The Minister became the "ministeree"

Before this last month, my only other stay in a hospital was 32 years ago. I had a really bad tummy ache. Everyone said it was just a tummy ache. Turns out it was a ruptured appendix. So following its grand explosion, I spent ten days hanging out in the hospital and eating McDonald’s burgers (a treat back in those days). I think my mom felt bad about the whole tummy ache diagnosis and, since I was a tad spoiled anyway, and since I was a tad picky on my eating habits, she brought me yummy burgers to eat instead of the awful hospital food. It wasn’t too bad of a deal. For my troubles, I got lots of burgers, a little scar on my side and an autographed picture of Al Kaline (think of him as the Detroit Tiger’s version of George Brett). It’s hanging in my office to this day (the picture of Al Kaline, not my ruptured appendix).

My most recent hospital stay was for a week following the worst headache of my life. As you know, my noggin, like my appendix, had a grand explosion too, also know as a subarachnoid hemorrhage. I didn’t get an Al Kaline autograph or McDonald burgers or a scar for my troubles this time around. Karla did bring me a club sandwich from the Cheese Cake Factory one night. I am still a tad picky in my eating (and maybe a tad spoiled) and since I had grown sick of the hospital food (the shoe leather covered in gravy was a little too unappetizing), my lovely bride found me something better to eat. It’s another reason why I love her.

She wasn’t the only one to show me kindness. Not by a long shot. Not a day has passed that I haven’t received a get well card or a thoughtful e-mail telling of family prayer times on my behalf. Moreover, we have consumed many wonderful meals that folks from the church brought into our house during my recuperation. Some wonderful ladies even paid no attention to Karla and her ridiculous rule of “no desserts” and brought cookies, cakes, brownies, ice cream and pie anyway. Thank you for not listening to that silly, silly rule! (I am neither a doctor, nor the son of a doctor, but I say a good way to overcome bad pains in one’s melon is to fill the tummy with yummy treats!)

One family in the church provided our entire Christmas dinner. They made the whole deal. Karla heated it up and brought the ham, sweet taters, beans and yummy cake (and I don’t know what all) into my room at St. Luke’s Hospital. We turned my bed into the buffet line and we had a glorious Christmas dinner. Others secretly passed along money to Karla to help with the extra expenses that we were incurring. And some sent along gift cards to restaurants so that she would not have to take time cooking.

All of this is to say, the minister became the “ministeree.” (I am sure that is not a word, but you know what I mean). Since my little brain hemorrhage the tables have been turned and the people to whom I have ministered to and with the last couple of years have reached out in wonderful ways and ministered to me and my family. I think old Martin Luther would be proud to see “the priesthood of all believers” in action, ministering in such a wonderful way. You know, it’s true: we should all be ministers—whether you have an ordination certificate hanging on your wall or not. Our calling as “Christ follower” means we care for one another and think of ways to share and show the love of Jesus. And many, many people have done that for me these last four weeks.

So thank you Central Nazarene. Thank you for ministering to me. Thank you for the prayers. Thank you for being such a great place to serve. Karla and I are leaving for a conference tomorrow. OK, the truth is that the conference is on a cruise ship… so, I’ll have a few meetings with other pastors of churches similar to ours and hopefully there will be a little more recovery and rest and sun and sea, and I will return completely ready to join you in ministering once again.