This being said, though, I must confess that I some times do hide behind saying that this “is part of it” or “that the cost is worth it.” I hide behind it because I am tired of being sick, tired of not being able to do many of the things I love, tired of wondering if meals will show up or if I will be able to drive tomorrow. I hate not being able to work or take a full load of classes. I am tired of trying to figure out how to make life work and wondering how God now wants me to use my gifts and abilities. I am tired of causing my friends to worry and be mournful about what has happened to me. I wonder if disability is ever going to come through, if I will ever be able to pay off these medical bills that keep piling up, and will I ever be able to meet all of my obligations (most of which are self imposed). And I am tired of not being as socially active and caring as I once was, as the desire for ministry calls the very marrow in my bones to be, and as my heart longs for.

A number of these, especially the last ones, are the reasons I have been pushing it for the past few weeks and am paying for it now. It was great to be around people! I made some new friends and was able to spend time with old ones. I was able to engage in some great conversations, counsel and write, and was able to serve to the point of exhaustion, which is something I absolutely adore. In doing these things I think my motives were at least some what pure. I was taking advantage of opportunities given to me, I did not allow my self to be complacent with the Fibromyalgia, I showed love despite my own discomfort, I explored some business opportunities, and I celebrated life and Easter…

Somewhat pure does not mean fully pure though. I see where I have used and use these things to hide from the circumstances of life. It feels good to be wanted and needed, it feels good to go on a date and cook on the grill. It is fun to see friends being cared for and enjoying themselves… it feels good to be active again and pretend that the suffering is gone. But in this case that is what it is. It is pretending instead of facing. It is telling myself that I am worthy because I do these things, instead of trusting my Father when he tells me that he has made me worthy. By pretending I am given a few moments where I do not have to think about risking hope. It is a place where I can feel like I am contributing to the Gospel instead of recognizing my need for it.

Now, as I sit here on my back porch, I am confronted once again with the reality of life, suffering, joy, hope, and the cross. I find that I am longing to remember the Gospel and the hope it entails. Not just the hope of Heaven, but hope that is present now in this time, in this world, in this place, in this life. It is not a frilly hope that is contingent upon daffodils, pretty days, money to buy a house, or the ability to run around the playground. Rather, the Gospel tells of a hope that exists in spite of these things, and despite the presence of suffering, loneliness, poverty, brokenness, over cooked hamburgers, beer that is flat, loss, the need for new clients or a job, the wrongs done against us and the wrongs we have done, broken sandals, stepping in dog crap, a bad hair cut, and death itself.

This longing makes/forces me to look back towards Easter, Jesus’ love for his brothers and sisters, and my love for Jesus, even though at times I do not feel it. Easter was special this year not because of an emotionally romantic or physical high. Rather, I hurt, the nightmares and bad dreams had found their way even into my naps, and my simple exercises wreaked havoc on my body. Easter was good because of the hope it gives in the midst of crap. It started with the dread, tears, greed, betrayal, abuse, fear, pain, suffering, punishment, sacrifice, and loss of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, to the longing, bewilderment, and fear of Saturday, and cumulated in the joy, excitement, forgiveness, love, reunion, victory, defeat of death, crushing of the serpent, the serving of justice, the promise of not being left alone, and the promise of whole and authentic lives in the resurrection of Jesus Christ on Easter Sunday. This is why we can risk hope and why our hope is not unreasonable. This is why I do not have to hide, even when I feel like it!

LJ

Beautiful.
Who knew you were a theologian? A good one that is.

LLoyd, thank you for your reflections. I find it encouraging that you seek Jesus in your suffering (it is the place we can begin to grasp the significance of the cross, in my mind). I think pain can lead us two places: Further into ourselves and bitterness and anger, or further into reliance on Jesus, transformation, GLORY! So Glory to God, and you are a minister just by being alive and leaning on Him!

I love you, and I miss you very much!
I am praying for you.

Take a nap.

P.S. I'm burning a CD for you RIGHT now... get excited.

You told me to read it and be honest. It makes sense to me, knowing who you are. In a sense, I'm glad you cannot prove yourself to God. He has taken away much of your ability to do so. An interesting thing to me is the fact that no one is exempt from the parts of scripture that forbid complaining, and command us to be thankful in all circumstances. Yes, we mourn and tell God when we're tired. But we don't sit in it. We believe and move forward. And that, my friend, is what I see you doing. And I'm glad for it. chris

Hey Lloyd,
I had no idea you were sick! Rachel (from CN St. Charles) just told me a couple of weeks ago so I played somewhat of a stalker and tracked down your blog! It doesn't surprise me in the slightest that you still have such a wonderful outlook on life-you never cease to amaze me. I would love to bring you dinner sometime- will you e-mail me?? You are most certainly in my prayers!
XOXOXO