When I was younger, I had no idea what older folk meant when they said things like, "Getting old is not for wimps." Now I know. It was 2:00 a.m. Sunday morning when I realized there was no way I was going to make it to GCA to preach. It's been five years (yes, five years) since I've missed a Sunday morning. I wasn't always preaching, but I was always there. If I was sick, sore, bruised, bent ... anything short of utterly incapacitated, I was there. Until this morning.
So here's what happend. I forgot. That's right. I forgot. I forgot that I was 54 and that I had been very careful and methodical over the last year to make sure my back healed and became stronger. I've been exercising, stretching, seeing the chiropractor, doing what needed to be done to get healthy again. And I've been doing quite well, thank you very much. Then yesterday, I forgot.
I was connecting an antenna to my daughter's television. Easy enough. I was down on my right knee with my left leg bent in front of me, leaning forward to plug it into the power strip. Fine. The little light went on, letting me know that everything was working correctly and all that was left to do was to stand up.
Now, a smart man would have taken a moment to think about how he got up off his knee. But it turned out that I was a thoughtless man in a hurry. As young, agile men do, I tossed my arms upward, jolting my torso up a few inches, pushed with my left leg, and swung my right leg up under me -- well, that was the plan anyway. Instead, I felt my lower back twist, my left leg gave up completely, and I ended up in a heap in the middle of my daughter's bedroom floor. The first thought that popped into my brain was, "Oh, this isn't just going to hurt today." The second was, "AAAAUUUUGGGHHHH ---- JAMES!!!!!" Fortunately, my hulking brute of a son was home and he came to lift his ailing father off the carpet.
Providentially, a few weeks ago Tom and I had been together, visiting a midweek service at Mt. Gilead Missionary Baptist Church in Nashville (where my friend, Elder Roderick Glatt is the pastor), and at the end of the evening I reminded Tom that he was next person up to bat if I was ever unable to preach. He said he had an idea what he'd talk about and I encouraged him to get his notes together, put them in a folder and have them standing by because .... well, you never know.
So, I called Tom last night to forewarn him that I was hurt. He knows how I am. He knows that I'll show up if there's any way possible. We speculated about preaching from a chair. He offered to pick me up and drive me. But, I adjured him to be ready. I know that this type of injury is usually more painful the day after the inital shock to the system. And sure enough, today I was barely able to hobble.
But, here's the interesting part. At 2:00 a.m. I had peace. I frequently remind the folk at GCA that it's not "the Jim show." It's a church whose purpose is the service and worship of God, regardless of my condition or presence. And I was comforted knowing that the congregation was in good hands. There's no one at GCA who goes back further with me, or who knows my teaching more thoroughly, than Tom. I could rest, trusting that God had everything under control and that Christ would not gather His people without feeding and nurturing them.
And that's how it worked. I just heard and posted Tom's message to the website. And he taught on -- of all things -- peace and contentment. You see, when you worship a truly sovereign God, peace and contentment are "part of the package." If you worship a God who is waiting for you to exercise yourself so He can judge and assess the value of your work, there's no peace and certainly no contentment. There's only fear, doubt, and the spectre of failure. But, our God is indeed Sovereign. And He worked through Tom this morning. No worries.
I'm so grateful for GCA. I'm grateful for the men, women, and children who gather together to worship God, love each other, and demonstrate that the Christian faith is still alive and well. I'm grateful for the lattitude they give me to chase all my theological rabbits. And I'm grateful for the fact that I can lay down when I need to, fully confident that they'll carry on until I'm back on my feet.
So, thanks Tom! Thanks for being my friend for 25 years. And thanks for watching over the flock this morning. And thanks for the good message.
As for me, I'm a blessed man .... wrenched back and all. A few days of mending -- and being thoughtful -- should get me moving again.
(Now, where's that tube of Biofreeze?)
