Post 4: The Pursuit.

Happy New Year!!

Umm. It seems I missed the train on that one. Sorry.

So, ya. Life got busy and such. I hope everyone had a great holiday season. And New Year beginning. And. And.

Nirma and I went to Puerto Rico in January. It was a good time. Actually, I could write an entire blog on the experience. Something about diversity and cultural difference and how it needs to impact our thinking. Maybe I will do that. But not today.

We arrived back to our house on a Thursday afternoon from Puerto Rico. That left me with less than 24 hours, including sleep time, to write 2 sermons, have an elder's meeting, finalize and reherse a special joint communion service between a couple of the local churches of which I was hosting and in charge of, and return the myriad of messages that had accumlated while I was gone. It was a bit of a whirlwind.

However, I was ready for the next week of work and grateful for a full week to get my next sermon written.

Depending on how one works and thinks, the process of putting together a sermon will vary. My process goes a little like this. I pray alot. I want God to write my sermon for me. I read until something starts to formulate in my mind. Once the idea gets rolling, I go take a shower. Yes, that is correct. I shower. For some reason, I think so much better in the shower. Plus, my office is in the basement, and it gets really cold in my basement, so a warm shower is a nice break. Then I come back and start to write. Now, mind you, this takes most of a week. The formulating of ideas, and then running and coalescing thoughts in my head can take a couple days. The bulk of sermon writing happens in ones head, not on paper. At least it does for me. Usually by thursday night or early friday, it's all done and printed. And by done and printed I mean that I have an outline from which I will preach from. I don't use a manuscript. I like the flexability of an ouline. Plus, it requires me to have a better grip on my subject matter than having a manuscript in front of me.

Anyway. I share that so I can share this. Monday comes around and I can't seem to pull anything together in my head. But that's not entirely unusual. Sometimes it takes a couple days to find a direction.

But when Thursday rolled around and I had nothing, not a single idea to run with, I was getting a little concerned. Friday came, and I had nothing. It was friday afternoon and, while I wasn't exactly panicking, I was a bit worried. No one wants to walk up to the pulpit and start there sermon like this, "Today, our sermon will be taken from this magazine I found on the sidewalk... let me see... ah yes, it says here that Honda will be releasing not one, but three new motorcycles this year. And this is much like how Jesus, um, decided that all of the... easter bunnies, yes, that's it, Easter Bunnies, should be made from chocolate for all eternity. May His Glorious name be praised. Amen."

I'm pretty sure they have had people committed for less than that.

Well, I was sitting my chair trying to figure out what was wrong. Why was my mind blank? Why couldn't I come up with a single new thought? It was at that point that a disturbing thought entered my mind.

I realized I had nothing more to say. When part of what you do is based around the concept of conveying information to people in order to help/teach/encourage/admonish/etc., and you suddenly realize you have nothing more to say... well, you can see the problem that creates.

I was going over in my head all the different concepts and ideas and I realized that I had said everything I knew how to say about them. Many of them I had hit more than once from different angles and I didn't know how to make it different. I didn't know how else to say it, and even more, I wasn't sure it was going to make any difference even if I did.

Now, if you were paying attention to my dissertation on how I write sermons, you will realize one glaring problem. I was upset because I had nothing to say, and yet, the whole purpose of doing what I do is to convey what God wants said. I was focusing on me and not on God.

One thing sermon writing has done for me is to answer my own questions about things. I still have unanswered questions about many things, but I've answered most of the ones that had caused me problems. For me sermon writing is not only highly educational, but also in many ways cathartic. It allows me to work out theological quandaries but also to pass on what I've learned to those around me. I'm not saying I'm always right, but it has brought be a measure of peace.

And there were two other parts to my distrubed conclusion. One, I was feeling like maybe I'd hit a block and become so overconfident in my "knowledge" that I had rendered myself unteachable. Which is bad and is also self diluted cause I really know better. The essense of learning is that, the more you know, the more you realize you don't know. Secondly, I had grown increasingly frustrated that my people weren't "getting it." Week after week, day after day, I try to get them moving in a direction, and consistantly meet failure. Or at least it often seems that way. As if progress depends on my definition of it.

All these things I know better than to fall into, and yet, there I was. I wasn't burnt out, but I think I was at the very least ignoring my own teaching. Perhaps headed toward burnout.

It was at that moment, I remembered something I had read from Rob Bell. He had a very similar situation happen to him, except for the opposite reasons. So I went back and read.

He describes a moment he had before going up front to preach one day. Rob Bell is the pastor of Mars Hill church in... Michigan? Yes. Let's go with Michigan. It is a hugely successful church with thousands of attending members. So here he is, postor boy for young successful pastors, and he is hiding in a back room with his car keys in his hands, five minutes before he walks up to preach, ready to sneak and walk away from it all. And his reason?

"I realized I had nothing else to say."

A small lesson there is, success and failure have nothing to do with satisfaction, happiness and burnout.

But even though our situations were vastly different, I discovered that our causes had a similar source. He describes talking to a councelor. During this visit the councelor tells him, "Rob, I know what your problem is."

"It's sin."

Rob had one of those "say what?" moments.

But the councelors response was one of the more profound things I have heard in a long time.

"Your job is the relentless pursuit of who God wants you to be. Anything else in your life is sin and you must repent of it."

Now, I think we can all agree that is a bit over generalized and over simplified. But the underlying point is no less true. And for those of you who may not put much stock in God, the point is still a valid one and I'll say it differently.

Your job is the relentless pursuit of who you are suppose to be, and anything else is a waste of time.

It's mostly the first half of that, that I like. "The relentless pursuit of who God wants you to be."

For Rob, the problem was that he was trying to be what everyone else wanted him to be. Superpastor. Everywhere, all the time, fitting the mold to make everyone happy.

And I found, as I thought about it, that even though I protest so much at being just another typical pastor, in many ways I had been just reacting. Making decisions based on everyone around me. But not based on me at all. I don't mean that in a selfish way. It's good to be selfless. But one can't ignore ones self. You can't ignore your instincts. Your better judgement. Your own personal needs. Otherwise you just collapse.

Your pursuit of whatever you pursue just becomes hollow. You become hollow.

And you find that you have nothing left to say.

After all that, I had a sermon to write. And I wrote in less than 2 hours. Every successful preaching and sermon giving teacher will tell you that 2 hours is about 10 hours too short at the minimum to write a good sermon. And usually they are correct.

I went in to church the next day. Instead of a typical biblical sermon, I told three stories. One of a guy from Union College named Mike Needles. Another of Solomon. And the third of Rob.
Solomons is short and simple. Read Ecclesiastes 1:12-2:17 if you want to see the words. The short of it is this. Solomon was trying to find the meaning of his existance. And he searched everywhere, tried everything whether good or bad, and succeeded in every endeavor. But at every point he found it meaningless. He kept finding himself unworthy of the great king who had come before him, his father David. Over and again it was meaningless.

Like chasing after the wind. And he hated it all.

But at the very end of the book he finds the one thing that actually mattered. Fear God and keep his command.

Solomon was looking for meaning every where. But he neglected the one place that actually mattered. God wanted him to be something, to fill a role, and he was fighting it. Trying to be wise, but ignoring wisdom.

Just like Rob was looking to everyone else to find his purpose.

The story of Mike is the success story. The short of it is that we were all together at a function and someone broke into his car and ripped him off and trashed it. But he didn't get mad. He remembered that he had been no different at one point in his life, he remember where he had come from, and now knew who he was to be. He figured he had it coming, but more than that, he knew who we was suppose to be and understood that one day those kids who did that to him would figure it out. Maybe.

I've never forgotten that day.

Now, the point of the sermon when I tied it all up had to do with people who had junk in their past, but unlike Mike had never come to terms with it. They can't let the memory of it go even if the problem is no longer there.

People who, like Solomon are trying to find meaning everywhere in everything, only to find it hollow and empty and to have taken them somewhere they didn't want to go.

Or like Rob, trying to please everyone, and keep pushing through. Putting on the mask, sucking it up, and going forward until one day you have nothing left to give. And everything falls apart.
That was the jist of my sermon. But here is the part that amazed me.

Before I got the sermon, before I had really talked to anyone, we had the portion of the service where people can tell what they are thankful for, or give a request for prayer. What amazed me was that out of the 10 or so people who spoke up, every single one of them asked for help because they were feeling that they had were reaching this point of running out of steam. Not sure if they could keep going or keep it up.

I was totally oblivious to any of these things. Some pastor I am. But the point that this made to me was that I was trying to figure out what I needed to tell these people, what they needed to be hearing, and the reality was, what they needed to hear had nothing to do with my ability to discern it.

Why I thought I had nothing to say, God took my nothing and used it anyway. I wrote that sermon because of me. I didn't write it for them. At least, I didn't know I was writing for them. It turned out to be one of my top 3 sermons of all time. Not because it was good, but because it was relevant.
This may all seem a little scattered in scope so I'll bring this back around to the purpose. Which is actually two fold.

One. Never think that what you are doing is irrelevant. That you aren't making an impact. That you have nothing left to offer. You do. You ALWAYS do, even if you don't realize it.

Two. Our job in life is to be who God wants us to be. Who we are meant to be. Define that as you will. Not what anybody else wants us to be. Everyone has this stuff in their past that controls their thinking and decision making. It holds us back. We are still trying live according to someone elses mindset. Which would be ok if we were, in fact, them. But we aren't. And this we have to deal with and kill it. Not ignore or run away from it. We can't run from it. It just finds us again. There is a saying that says, "Where ever you go, there you are." Our problems follow us because we are the problem.

We, as individuals, must deal with our personal histories, external expectations, and start being who we are suppose to be.

Everything else in our lives hinges upon us figuring that out.

Good luck and God speed.

Post 3: Meaning Beyond The Con

31,536,000 seconds. 525,600 minutes. 8760 hours. 365 days. 12 months.

These numbers all have one thing in common. They all equal the same thing.

1 year.

One year ago today, two days before Thanksgiving, my doctor called me with the results of my regular follow-up exams and told me that I had cancer. Again.

Two days before Thanksgiving.

We were already packing up to head out for the big family get together. We had been looking forward to getting away, and suddenly we weren't feeling to much like going. We had lost the desire to be a part of it, and we didn't want to ruin it for everyone else.

But we decided to go anyway. We decided not to say anything till after we got back from Thanksgiving. We would go. We would force a smile when it was time to smile, laugh when it seemed everyone else was laughing, and eat the food even though it we really weren't all that interested in eating. We didn't want bring everyone down so we just put on our best show and went through the motions. We just acted normal.

"Hey Tony, you've been staring at that cookie for 5 minutes and it's starting to creep me out. You ok?"

"What?!? Who said I was dying?!?... I mean, I like cookies. No cancer here."

Gag.

Ya, it went well.

Now, go ahead and ask me if I was feeling overly thankful. The answer is decidedly "no."
Fast forward to yesterday.

We are sitting in the doctor's office waiting for the results of my latest post-chemo tests. I started thinking back over this last year. Trying to smile through Thanksgiving. Going through all the tests with all the tubes and needles poked and inserted into various and unpleasant places. The surgery to put in my access port for chemo. The anticipation of the hell that was to come. Praying to God the day before chemo that I would wake up from the nightmare to find that it just a big dream or mistake. Going in the next for my first treatment and realizing it wasn't a dream and it wasn't a mistake. The next four months nausia, vomiting, head aches, weakness, chills, loss of hair, anemia, blood infusions, pain, erratic emotions and the realization that it was all much worse than anything I had anticipated. The unpleasant surgery to remove my access port. The recovery. And now I was there waiting to find out if history was going to go in circles for me.

Fortunately, it wasn't to be. My CT scans were as they should be and my blood tests were frighteningly close to normal. My doctor said, "It seems like you might have to suffer through till old age kills you after all."

Fair enough.

Now, it's two days before Thanksgiving again and I'm ready to go. I can smile and laugh and eat some great food... and I won't have to pretend too much.

Now, ask me if I am feeling overly thankful. The answer is "hell ya."

Now ask me why.

Is it because I have no cancer currently? Is it because I don't have 4 more months of chemo-torture looming ahead? Is it because in two days I'll get to put up with some of my crazier family? (maybe, maybe, and probably not)

Maybe it's because not have to die soon.

Maybe.

Do you know what a "shell game" is? I'm sure you all do. It is a game where a person hides a small object like small ball, or pebble, or pea under one of three cups, and then shuffles them around in order to confuse a player, then get them to place a bet as to which cup it is under. It was originally played with thimbles and a pea, then later walnut shells(hence the name "shell game") and a pea.

They show you the pea, put it under a cup, shuffle it around trying to confuse you, then stop and ask you to bet and choose a cup. They tell you that you have a one and three chance in choosing the correct cup. They are very good at shuffling the cups quickly so that they can mess you up. They usually let you choose correctly once or twice to suck you in. Then they make it hard for you, until you start losing.

It seems easy enough, though. If you just pay close enough attention, you should be able to follow the pea or ball because there are only three places the ball can be. Cup 1, 2 or 3.

And there in lies the illusion. The con man gets you to buy into to the parameters of the game as if they are actually true. The player knows that the con man is being tricky with the cups. They expect it. They expect the con man to switch up the cups or shift the ball from one cup to the next. But what the player doesn't realize is that it is an illusion with in an illusion.

The ball isn't under any of the cups. The player is given a false set of choices and then made to believe that they are the real ones. They are convinced they have three choice. Cup 1, 2, or 3. But really the ball is in the con mans hand the whole time.

Most of you probably knew that already. But have you ever stopped and looked around at your life to see just how often we believe that the set of options around us are really the only choices we have to choose from?

We habitually buy in to the parameters put in front of us and rarely try to see around them. I doubt any of you would ever fall for the shell game. And yet we do it every day.

Back to me being thankful.

Do you know why I'm thankful? Or maybe I should say, what I'm most thankful for? Because, yes, I am thankful that I don't have chemo anymore. I'm really thankful I don't have cancer anymore. I'm glad I'm not actively dying. I'm super glad I had my wife with me the whole time. She's awsome. But none of those things helped me accept the reality of this last year. None of those things had meaning beyond themself. (except for my wife, but that is another topic.)

I made this myspace(refer to first blog) page BECAUSE I had cancer. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have done it. I didn't feel like I had the time. But I had it, so I did. You are reading this blog BECAUSE I went through hell. And most importantly, I got back in touch with alot of people I had forgotten I cared about and had missed for a very long time BECAUSE my life was jeapardized by illness.
I'm thankful for my cancer because I'm thankful for all of you. Surviving is great. But having something more to show for it, to have made it worth not giving up, this brings meaning.

It brings thankfulness.

Don't let life convince you that your options are small and meaningless. Don't let yourself be convinced that the bad situation you are in is out of your control or without meaning. That the only options you have are "bad" and "worse" because what you see in front of you is often just an illusion.

It's just a shell game.

It's a false and flawed premise. There is more going on than what you see.

Look for it.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Post 2: Vacations Save Lives

I was sitting in prayer meeting the other day when it happened. I realized I really really need to take a vacation.

It happened like this.

I have three churches, which means I have three prayer meetings a week. The format for each is the same, but each church is very different. But that doesn't matter for this story.

I start prayer meeting, oddly, with prayer. I ask everyone for things they want to have prayer about. They can be needs, or praises, or thanks... whatever. I write them down to keep track of them, and then we can keep the list going from week to week.

Once we have a list for the evening, then everyone will say a short prayer for the things on our list.
After that is done, which can take anywhere from 30-45 minutes, we will have a bible discussion. A topic or bible passage/chapter will be decided on, then we will read and discuss. It's great because then it's not just me lecturing. Instead we are all learning from each other.

Anyway. We were doing the prayer request portion and it was getting to the point where no one had anything more to add. So I made the last call for requests.

Now, when I make the last call for requests, I give it a few seconds just to make sure no one has anything else to add. I don't want to cut anyone short. Prayer is the most important part of anything anyone can do in their service and relationship with God. I truly believe that will all of my being.
So, when no one spoke up, I let them know we were going to pray, Set down my list and started praying.

I got three words into it, when one lady... you know, the one who apparently is never allowed to talk anywhere else on the planet?, cause she never stops talking? ever?... that lady interupts me three or four words into the prayer and says that she has something else to add to the list. So, I stopped, she expounded about her request, as usual, and then I made another last call for requests. After no response, I start prayer, get about 3 or 4 words in, and again, she says she has another request.

Now, I'm thinking that this is a bit rude, but hey, it's prayer and if someone has something important to share, then it would be wrong to not let her bring before God publically. So I stop and let her give her request.

You are probably thinking that is pretty funny. But would you believe that she did that 2 more times after that before we finally got the prayer going?

I couldn't believe it. I was just sitting there dumbfounded. The last time she interrupted the prayer I yelled at her to shut up already and then I reached across the table and slammed her head right through it.

Ok, that is decidely not true.

However, I wanted to tell her to shut up. But instead I said something else and the tone with which I said it was probably just as bad. When was finished I looked her right in the eyes and said, "Is that all?"

She said, "I think so."

I said, "Are you sure?"

She said, "Yes."

I let my stare linger for a second, then I started prayer.

And it was at that precise moment, that I realized I really really needed a vacation.
I didn't show it outwordly so much, but inside, I was furious. This lady never shuts up unless she gets interrupted. Otherwise, you wait for her to breath, then jump in. And I had just had enough of it.
I've never come that close to losing it with a church member. Even her. She is actually an extremely sweet lady. She doesn't get to talk to people much, and she is always cheery. She didn't deserve my anger.

And I knew it. Even as I was seething inside, I knew it. What was making me mad wasn't her talking. It was the fact that she was slowing me up and I wanted to get it over with already and get home.

And that is WHY I needed the vacation.

When suddenly the very thing you are called to do is an inconvenient annoyance, then something is clearly wrong. I have dealt with people are much more rude and much more annoying, and I've never even hardly so much as blinked at it. But that day I just didn't have it in me.

I was forced to ask why.

This week while I was writing my sermon, I got the answer. You know what's great about working for God? Even as I am trying to teach and help others, God is teaching me even more. It's amazing.

It's humbling.

The answer. It revolves around two words.

"Healing" and "Wings".

There is a story in the book of Matthew about a woman who had a bleeding disorder for twelve years and knowing that she probably wouldn't be able to talk to Jesus, decided that if she could just touch the edge of his cloak, she would be healed.

She did. And, she was.

Let me give you two more words. "Tsitsit" and "Kanaph".

Tsitsit is Hebrew for "fringe or tassel". Kanaph is Hebrew for "corner, edge or wing."

You see, all Jewish men were to where a cloak or covering with tassles on it's wings. The edges of these cloaks were called wings because when a Jewish man prayed, they were to put this cloak, or prayer shawl, over their head, lift their arms up and pray. And when they did, the shawl hung off their arms like wings. So they prayer shawl had tassles on it's wings because God told them to make that way back in the book of Numbers, during the time of Moses.

By now you are wondering what the point is, and will I ever get there? Fair enough.

Jesus, being a law biding Jewish Rabbi would have been wearing one of these. This is important, because in the book of Malachi, the prophet Malachi made a prediction that the Messiah(son of righteousness) would come. And when he did, he would have "healing in his wings." The word for wings there is the same word used for the wings of the shawl. The prophecy of Malachi became a story and legend that the Jews remembered.

So now we fast forward to this bleeding woman. She knows that this man Jesus claims to be the Messiah. And she knows that the prophet Malachi said that the messiah would have healing in his wings. Therefore, if this is true, then all she needs to do is touch the edge of his prayer shawl, his "wings", and she will be healed.

And she was. She showed that she truly believed that this man was the fulfillment of Malachi's prophecy. Many others did, also, because it is mentioned in both Matthew and Mark that many people would come and touch the tassles on his wings and be healed or made whole.
And it's at this point where God taught me something. I had already read about the tassles and the wings and the prophecy of Malachi. But as I was reading these texts in Greek and Hebrew, I saw something I did not expect to see.

In Mark, where I just said that people would come and touch his wings and be healed, the word used there for "healed" is the greek word "sozo."

There is only one problem. The word "sozo" really doesn't mean "healed." It actually means "saved." Literally saved.

The definitions of the word are "saved, salvation, kept from destruction, preserved." It didn't make sense to me. Then I realized that Mark was telling us that everyone who touched Jesus "wings" were saved. They had salvation. They weren't just healed physically, they were healed mind, body and soul. Every fiber of their being was effected.

Jesus told the bleeding woman to go in peace. The Hebrew word for peace is Shalom. But Shalom doesn't just mean the absence of conflict. It means "to be covered in the goodness of God. To be covered with his wholeness and completeness." He told her to go in the completeness of God. He told her that she was now changed mind, body and soul.

Because the Messiah has healing in his wings.

The Messiah has salvation in his wings. To be healed by Jesus is to be saved.

I gave that to my people as part of my sermon. But that sermon was actually for me.

As I mentioned in the last blog, it's been a long year for me. And what I keep forgetting is that, I'm still healing. And I don't mean just physically. Everything I am has been altered. And I'm still adjusting. And I'm still changing. I was saved from death.

And I'm still being saved.

And that is just my story. It's easy to know better. But knowing something isn't the same as believing something. People will go through things in their lives, and when they come through the other side of it, they will think they have finally finished, or that they have arrived.

But it's never true. And I fell into that trap. I was feeling fantastic. My mind was working better. I was feeling like things were getting to be as they should again. And then I realized they weren't.
I was so focused on healing physically, I forgot to deal with the rest of me that needed to heal. And as it turns out, the physical wounds are the easiest to deal with.

True healing is a total, holistic experience. And apparently, I'm much farther from being whole than I thought. But as long as I understand that, it's ok. Because my healing is in Jesus hands.

And Jesus has salvation in his wings.

What kind of healing are you looking for?

Post 1: Me, But Not Me.

Blog. Sounds like something the Swedish Chef from the Muppets would say. And by it's nature is almost as difficult to make out. One word, but an infinite number possible fulfillments. Should I blog about my house? My job? My zit? Someone elses zit?

God? Yes, yes. I'm sure you figured that's where I'm going. "We all know you are a pastor now, so clearly you are going to spout on endlessly about God.

Probably. But not this time.

Oddly, not even for my first official myspace blog. But I'm sure I'll get there eventually. It is what I do, after all.

As with all things in my life, I feel God does weigh in, in some way. But tonight I'm going to blog about me.

"Well, isn't someone all full of themself?" I hear you say.

Touche'.

But it's not that kind of self rambling. I've been trying to come to terms with something over the last 4.5 months. Some of you, but not all, know that I've had cancer. Twice. Once over four years ago, and again this year. Four years ago I went through surgery and radiation. This year I did chemotherapy.

Cancer immediately brings to mind visions of death. And that's one of the top issues you deal with when your doctor tells you that you have cancer. But this isn't about that. I dealt with that four years ago. The prospect of immanent death doesn't bother me. It's not because I'm brave. I'm a coward. It's because I'm a realist. I know where I stand. And I understand the reality of my reality. (this is the part where I tell you all kinds of things about God, and how I dealt with death, and blah blah blah. That's for another blog.)

Chemotherapy causes incredible physical discomfort. It was easily the most horrible experience of my life. And it lasted for four months. Five days a week, every fourth week. My doctor said it like this. "You are young and we are playing hardball here. It's going to suck."

He wasn't wrong.

But this isn't about that either. (however, you do notice how I'm trying to draw you in and gain your sympathy... is it working?)

Before chemo, I was witty(a lie), handsome(another lie), funny and charming(also both lies). Well, at the very least, laughing came easy, I socialized easily, and I was decent at keeping a conversation going.

But now, I'm different. The wit is gone. Being charming and funny and clever... it's become hard work. I used to be goofy. Now it takes effort to be who I was.

All because, for some reason, I no longer am. And even when I try, I don't always succeed.
One could argue, "Well, you've gone through a traumatic experience and that changes people."
Perhaps.

However, it hasn't changed my outlook on anything. I had already dealt with all the issues that come with near death and trauma. No, this is something else. Chemo is basically poison injected directly into your veins. So, I have no doubt that I lost more than a few brain cells. I know it has effected my short term memory in a significant way.

But it's also changed who I am on a fundamental, psychological level. My wife has noticed. However, she was kind enough to not say anything. But I noticed also. I find myself doing things that I have always done, interacting as I've always tried to, but now, it's as if I'm just watching it happen from the inside. I have to force the smile more. Witty comment doesn't flow right. It's as if I'm an actor playing me.

Then suddenly, and unexpectedly, I'm normal for a while. It comes in short bursts. In certain situations, it comes back, and I'm me again. But it never lasts.

If I were counciling someone like this, I would probably conclude it was situation depression of some sort. The only problem is, I'm happy. My life is no more stressful than normal. My wife is great. My home is great. I still love my work. I'm probably closer to God than I've ever been.
And yet somehow, I'm often much more apathetic than I would normally be. And knowing it's true does nothing to change it. I don't feel bad. I just feel different. It's palpable. The emotion is there, but somewhere between the inside and outside it dissapates.

I'm happy about my level of health right now. I love my life. But now I'm a different person.

Me. But not me.

And I haven't decided if I like the new me yet. The new me isn't as fun. He's harder to use. Unwieldy. Clumsy. He didn't come with an instruction manual.

Most people don't notice. The witty flows if I force it out. The funny is there when it needs to be, but it's no longer natural.

I find myself living for the moments when I feel normal as I used to be. In those periods of time, it's easy again. I don't have to work hard for everything. Socializing, smiling...

Thinking.

Ha. Now this is strange. I was just realizing how depressing this all sounds. And it made me laugh. That's probably not normal. But I suppose that is just me. All throughout my treatments, I kept having odd situations present themselves that even my oncologists considered unlikely and rare. And now that I'm done with the chemo and cancer, I'm still having things pop up. Apparently I have a genetic abnormality that puts me at risk for Hemochromatisis. A condition that causes the body to absorb more Iron from food than it should. He checked for it cause my iron is high. My doctor recognized the strange nature of being me when he said, "well, it could be Hemochromatosis, or it could be residual side effects from chemo. You have the gene for Hemochromatosis, but you have the gene that is least likely to cause it. But then again, you're wierd."

I really like my doctor. He doesn't sugar coat stuff. He's a realist, like me. We get along great. He asked me to perform his sons wedding. It was pretty darn cool.

But I digress.

My parents were here this weekend. And it was all I could do to be conversational. It was hard all weekend. I just couldn't get it to click. And it showed. My wife just thought I was in a bad mood. But I wasn't. I was happy. I was glad they were there. I hadn't seen them since May. But it was hard. I just couldn't get into the groove.

They left today, and it was during this time that I realized that I was no longer sure who I was anymore. I don't mean as a Christian and my service to God. I don't ever question that anymore. Perhaps the nature of the service, sure. But I did that anyway.

But I mean, me. My personality. What makes me, me. The old Tony doesn't really exist anymore. And the new Tony... I don't know about him yet.

Why do I share this with all of you who may read this? Maybe in part because it's cathartic. It's good to get things off ones chest from time to time. It's the down side of my life now that it's not always appropriate for me to share whatever is on my mind. Although you wouldn't know it to listen to me. I usually talk first and think later.

But I'm also sharing this for another reason. This is where I bring up that God guy again. People have this idea that pastors are just perpetually blissful and oblivious to reality. They don't understand what the suffering of normal people is all about. Pastors are either about perpetual hope or they pound fire and brimstone. Either way they are detached from reality.

Some(many?) are.

They think they have answers for everything. They think they have it all figured out, and because they work for God, they are either better than everyone or more privilaged than everyone else.

That's so much crap.

I can't even figure out my own experience completely, I won't even insult anyone else by thinking I know what theirs has been like.

I keep running into people who are trying to figure out their life just like i'm trying to figure out mine.(That'd be everyone...) Some keep telling themselves the same biblical answers, hoping that they will start to believe it. Others don't even have answer to try to believe.

I was sitting in a meeting with a group of pastors. And don't get me wrong, I work with some really good people. But there was some talk about people just like you and me. People trying to figure out what happened to their life. And one of them commented on how that was such a great opportunity for us to share some of our beloved doctrine and truth.

And I thought to myself, "Are you freaking kidding me?" Some poor guy is trying to figure why his life took the turn it did, and I'm suppose to run over tell him about how great the sabbath is? Or the lady who is standing in front of her fathers coffin, and I'm suppose to tell her what I think the bible teaches about dead people?

It was the most ridiculous thing I had heard in at least... well... propabably at least a day. You'd be surprised at the things people say to me. But the point is this. I'm trying to figure out me. But, it's my job to help people who are messed up just like me. How can I know about me, and try to give them something that isn't even relevant for them? How can I presume to think that what matters to me, matters to them?

I'm going to try to put out a blog from time to time. And I shared all of this with you, all of the gloom and messiness of my life, so you can know that I know better. Not that I am better. Just that I won't insult you. Everyone wants something in their life that means something. Something relevant. And I want my blog to be useful in some way. I want to share things that are relevant. Share things that have meaning.

To me. To you.

If anyone actually reads this, well, I really am as crazy as I sound. Next time, it will be funnier. Wittier. I don't want to depress people. But it will always be honest and straight to the point. And if you want or need to hear about something, let me know. I'll answer questions. Or I'll listen. Whichever. Maybe we can be useful to each other.

Till then.

Greetings and other fancy "hello" type words.

Hi.

So here it is, my first official blog for the second time.

I sense a contradiction somewhere but the source eludes me.

I say "second time" because I have been posting blogs on my MySpace page. So, not really my first blog ever. It's actually my fifth blog ever. Not really saying much, is it?

But now, I have set up this dedicated blog page so I can ramble on meaninglessly to my hearts content. Actually, I hope that's not true at all. I hope everything on this page has meaning to somebody. Somebody besides me, that is.

I am going to repost my previous blogs from MySpace. Mostly because i'm lazy. I really don't want to have to rewrite and edit them. So I am giving you fair notice that if you see references to myspace and other things that suggest inside knowledge, this is why.

Since this is my fifth, there will be four that will come next. They will be titled using words that look strikingly similar to these. "Me, But Not Me." "Vacations Save Lives." "Meaning Beyond The Con." and, "The Pursuit."

Within these blogs you will probably discern a few things about me. I'm a pastor. Wait, don't run away. At least give this a chance. Please? I know there are probably many of you who are of the opinion that the last thing you want is some bible thumper shoving fistfulls of God down your gullet. I'm not that guy. Don't get me wrong. I like God and I will be talking about God. But I've only been a pastor since June of 2006. That means before that I had a real life in the real world doing normal things. I would like to think that the stuff that is said on this page has more to do with life in a realistic, relevent, rubber-meets-the-road, life-is-messy sort of way.

If you read the next four posts, you will get the idea of what I'm peddling.

I welcome comments. I welcome questions.

Ok, I'll shut up. The next post really says what I'm trying to say here, anyway, and it even gives one or two reasons why. Enjoy, and maybe I'll even hear from you.

Till then, may death not catch you napping...