but the flesh is weak. And that was certainly my experience at church yesterday morning. One of my colleagues was in the pulpit, preaching on the theme "The Adventurous Spirit;" my only duties were to welcome the visitors and introduce the announcements, and then later to lead the "Moment for All Ages" -- a message directed specifically to our children just before they leave for their Sunday School classes. I knew I was in trouble when I arrived at church and didn't even have the energy or the appetite to enjoy our monthly pancake breakfast -- just a class of orange juice and a cup of coffee felt like too much. Got vested into my robes without too much trouble, but I did ask my colleague to welcome the visitors, which he readily agreed to do. A few moments later my other colleague volunteered to take the children's story off my hands as well, and after thinking that over for half-a-second. Which left me with nothing left to do except sit in the parlor of the Parish House listening to the service over the loudspeaker, and trying to stay awake in my wheelchair.
And now, of course, I'm second-guessing myself. I guess this is just what I'm fated to do. I want my people to see me as strong and committed and devoted to this church, despite my illness and the subsequent disability it has brought about, but at the same time I DONT want to have them witness the opposite when I just can"t get it done, no matter how hard I may try. I feel a lot better today (after having slept, intermittently, from noon until about 6 am this morning) so naturally I'm felling like if I had just gutted it out and soldiered on, I could have gotten it all done. But that's not what my guts were telling me yesterday. My guts were telling me to back off and take it easy, knowing that next week there will be another Sunday.
Next Sunday I AM scheduled to preach, so it's really important that I feel in tip-top shape. And I keep telling myself as well that this could simply have been "that thing that's been going around" -- headache and runny nose, fatigue, body aches, queasiness and loss of appetite. It doesn't HAVE to be the chemotherapy. But it probably is....
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7 comments:
Too bad about feeling dragged down yesterday; I hope you have a good week and can be back in the pulpit Sunday. Good luck!
Rest up, soldier. We can refer back to volumes of earlier sermons if you are not up to it..... we hope you will have a better week, though!
Val C & company.
GOD BLESS YOU TIM AND WE ALL HAVE UPS AND DOWNS, CHEMOTHERAPY AND COLDS...YOU HAVE BEEN MORE THAN AMAZING THROUGHOUT YOUR ILLNESS AND CHALLENGES. ALWAYS SURPRISES ME HOW SURPRISED YOU ARE WHEN YOU DISCOVER YOU CANNOT WALK ON WATER, AND DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE THE STONES ARE, SOMETIMES. HANG IN THERE, JESUS JENSEN!
LOVE, LIZA
Tim, thinking of you and wishing you well in this New Year. Diane
Tim
You DID gut it out. Once again you demonstrated you are committed and devoted to this church, and you also demonstrated once again the strength of the Warrior in you. PERSEVERE....PERSEVERE as the Southern Baptist say. "some DAYS are diamonds and some DAYS are stones", but as a pastor and as a person YOU are definitely a diamond
Hang in there Tim!
"In ordinary life we hardly realize that we receive a great deal more than we give, and that it is only with gratitude that life becomes rich."
--Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Listen to your gut, babe. There's no reason to push yourself beyond reasonable expectations (and in this case, it is a very reasonable expectation that chemo or a little bug or a combo of the two will leave you feeling weak and lousy sometimes) when there are others ready, willing and able to step in for you. You were there. You showed up and then realized you didn't have the energy to do everything you had planned to do. But you showed up, and I'm betting that alone took some adrenaline to accomplish.
Glad to hear that you slept, slept, slept. Ya needed it, sailor.
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