Jim is undergoing knee surgery today. I'm confident we will get the complete rundown and color commentary upon his return, and I’m looking forward to the high drama of it all! What you may not know is that Jim’s not the only one of our pastors who spent some quality time in the hospital this week. Our second-oldest ordained staffer also had quite an eventful time surrendering his aging body to medical professionals.
A kidney stone is rarely a life-threatening event. It’s relatively common, with 1 in 10 adults experiencing them. Yet, they say the discomfort is up there with gunshot wounds and labor pains. Listen, I would never suggest that I now know what giving birth feels like. That’s a ridiculous thing for a man to say, and I would never even mention the comparison. It might help instead to put this in strictly scientific terminology for you: it’s like a demon tunnelling through your innards.
It occurred to me at one point that I didn’t want my last words to be “We have to find the remote; I just can’t take this Puppy Bowl anymore.” That was right around the time I had turned completely inward and began to feel sorry for myself. Ever since Usher had started singing “Yeah,” I’d been thinking, “Oh no.” By the beginning of overtime, I was vomiting in the ER waiting room (pro tip: you get seen faster that way). Seven or so hours later, we were still struggling to manage the pain and they were talking about admitting me to the hospital.
Many of you know how fraught these moments are. You are hurting and utterly helpless. You aren’t thinking clearly, but you’re being asked to make some very expensive decisions. You’re often experiencing some sort of post-traumatic triggering. You’re worried about all the important things that are now completely out of your hands. Fortunately, I had been with my Community Group when it happened, and my family and friends are incredible. I was so well supported. But that didn’t keep me from being anxious. And pouty.
Paul calls our sufferings a kind of fellowship. Yet, when I look at the way Jesus suffered and the kinds of things he said in his hours of agony, I don’t feel like I have much overlap there at all. I had been reduced to the version of myself that can’t fake strength or nobility. I was breathing curses and looking for any way out. I doubt that when my actual time comes, I will be one to die with all the serene dignity of a Jedi.
But Jesus doesn’t look on the guys writhing next to him, nor the shocked onlookers, nor the mocking assailants, nor even me, with smug superiority in his perfect suffering. In his distress, Christ, too, is concentrated to the bare essentials of who and what he is: the God who loves and reaches toward us at our most pitiful. And I want to hang on every word that proceeds from that mouth.
So, I hope you can join us this weekend as we begin our Lenten series, Famous Last Words: The Sayings of Christ from the Cross.