"the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist"


i was having a conversation with my step-brother several weeks ago, and we were waxing spiritual.

i was awaiting my first surgical procedure, the mediastinoscopy. as you may recall, the purpose of that procedure was two-fold. a) to go in and remove, if possible, the spots in my high lung area that glowed on my p.e.t. scan of january 31st. b) once removed, test those spots to see if they were related to what we would ultimately learn to be a recurrence in the area where my right kidney once was found.

my first piece of good news, post jan. 31, was discovering those spots in my chest were benign.

at the time of my lunch with ken, though, i had no way of knowing that. i was still processing the idea of, not only my cancer being back, but this time it having spread to a different part of my body.

what did that mean for me?

could i beat it?

was it beatable?

how long would i have 'til i died?

what does it mean if i do?

do i believe in god?

surely, i do, right?

if i do, is he gonna come and get me after the cancer takes me away?

surely, he will, right?

so, ken was in town and we got together for lunch. before we met, i told him i'd been wishing to talk with people smarter than me, people who believed in god like i want to think i believe in god and ask them how i find a comfortable place after being faced again with my mortality.

so, we talked. it was a good conversation and, in it, he shared some of his feelings on faith that i had never really heard him articulate before. it was nice.

listen, man. i get it. i get i am never going to be 100 percent comfortable with the idea of what comes next. i do wish i could be closer than i am right now. at this very moment. at this moment moving forward.

which brings us to the next series of discussions i'll be facilitating for six weeks or so at the church.

something ken said to me the day of our lunch has stuck in my craw. we got on the subject of pastors and he shared an observation on them that i couldn't agree with any more. in general, he opined, "pastors have it pretty great. they are glorified salespersons that don't have to deliver on their pitch in this lifetime."

now, to some of us, the remark could be taken as an unfair criticism, which let me be quick to say is not how it was intended. most pastors take their calling seriously. my current pastor speaks of the responsibility he feels towards his congregation often.

to me, though, the comment strikes me as a completely valid talking point. and, as such, i feel like we do pastors and their sermons a disservice if we don't find avenues to talk about them amongst our friends and and our family and others who shared the experience with us. if we do not, if we choose not to invest in the message outside of sunday morning worship, they are no different than a sham-wow commercial, a distraction during our respective weeks that marks and passes time. no more. no less.

beginning this sunday evening, april 15th, humc will again offer an opportunity to (over-) analyze what we hear from the pulpit earlier that morning.

during that time, we'll talk about what we've heard, why we've heard it and, why, if at all, we should apply the context of the message to our week to follow. hopefully, we'll come away with not only a greater appreciation of the work that was put in to deliver it, but also a better understanding of how a very invisible god may or may not be working in our lives.

having had cancer would surely be a lot easier if i could convince myself that my eternity was secure. up until now, i haven't been able to make it to that point, and, really, it scares the ever-living shit out of me.

i hope, though, that opportunities like limbo and like the sermon post-mortems and like the every now and again conversations at lunchtime at o'charley's can provide some security. for me. and for those around me during those happenstances.

i hope that you might be interested in joining us over the next several sunday nights at 6:30.

if not, we'll miss you and we'll wish you were there, because, really, why wouldn't you be?

i hate cancer and what it continues to do to me. for real.

but i do love god.

surely, i do, right?