You know what I think? I think there's something about patience and letting go and humility that I just haven't learned yet, and the Holy Spirit is leading me towards that understanding during these days.

Last week I sent out an e-mail to the congregation with great confidence (hubris?), telling everyone about the daily schedule I had settled on, to balance activity and rest, as I recover from this lung inflammation called sarcoidosis. I proclaimed that my productive hours were in the mornings, and that afternoons and evenings were for rest. Sounds great, huh? All buttoned up! Well-organized, in control! See how well I'm managing my recovery!

Well, almost immediately after sending out that proclamation, my days became much different. I've had a very hard time getting going in the mornings! I have indeed been out and about for a few hours each day -- but I have no idea when those "productive" hours will be from day to day. I can only receive them as they are given to me, in patience and humility. I am entirely out of control. Is that the lesson that the Holy Spirit is teaching me?

I do not think that God sends suffering. God our Creator wants us to live life to its fullest! But we undergo periods of suffering, and God the Holy Spirit leads us through such periods to deep insights, along the Way of Jesus the Christ. It is a Way of deep humility, of letting go, of openness to what God gives. You and I are not in control. You and I deserve nothing of this day, or of any day. We can only receive the blessings that God will give, during this day.

"Pastors only work one hour a week, on Sunday morning, right?"

What that's said to me, it's always tounge in cheek, by someone who's very supportive, and who knows how much there is to do in pastoral ministry the other days of the week, as well! But, since leading the liturgy this past Sunday (for the first time in four weeks!), I've been reminded how important that Sunday morning contact truly is, between congregation members and their pastor. Since this past Sunday, so many people have said how their spirits were lifted by my just being there.

It is true that Sunday morning is when 95% (or 97%? or 98%?) of the congregation's members see their pastor! So, over these next weeks, as I recover from this lingering sarcoidosis (inflammation in my lungs), it seems a good thing to schedule my productive hours and rest periods so that I spend the week pointing towards leading the Sunday morning liturgy and preaching. And I've recovered enough to become able to make phone contact with folks who are experiencing their own health difficulties and other challenges.

I hate missing time with the College students, and with Affirmation of Baptism youth and parents, and with book study participants, and, oh yes, committees, and all the other things I do during the evenings. But that will come with my recovery of energy and endurance, as God grants me healing.

Today is the 11th day I've taken 60 mg a day of Prednizone, to reduce the inflammation caused by the sarcoidosis in my lungs. I do see some improvement. Last night, for instance, for several hours, I was able to breathe evenly and deeply without feeling an urge to cough! It has been more than a year since I experienced that! I simply sat and paid attention to the grace and blessing of relaxed breathing. What a gift.

My recovery is uneven, day-to-day. Early this morning I had a fever again. But, as the day goes on, I'm feeling a little better. It is hard not to feel discouraged. But my prayer is rich and deep: it is a matter of patience, of openness, of receiving the healing God is giving me, as it comes.

The dosage of Prednizone is due to be decreased to 40 mg per day soon. The only side effect of the steroid so far are periods of interrupted sleep. I am finding that the short stories of Alice Munro are the best way to relax into times of wakefulness. I hope you know of Alice Munro, who is a master of the short story. Nearly all of her stories are set in small towns or rural areas of Canada. Her subjects are all entirely ordinary people. The depth and force of each story is subtle and quiet. The reader needs to pause frequently, to realize what's going on! Each story is perfect for an hour of wakefulness, with only a lamp burning in the dark quiet, no other distractions. It's contemplative time.

Just back from worship, at the 8:30 service. I was hoping to hang around the church building long enough to say a few words to the assembled folks during the announcements period at the 11:00 service, and then head home, but I couldn't make it that long. I'm astonished at my lack of endurance.

But what a moving experience it was, to be surrounded by worshipers this morning. I didn't have the strength to sing much, but I was carried by those sitting around me! Their voices carried me! What a blessing from God's gracious love.

My experience over these past weeks is teaching me anew how important are all those things I've been preaching and teaching myself over the decades. When we assemble in a worshiping community, those who are strong carry those who are weak -- not just physically, but spiritually and emotionally as well. What blessing and healing from God! And, of course, from week to week, from month to month, we go from being strong to weak to strong, according to what is happening to us.

How can anyone possibly regard worship as optional?

A very difficult Psalm was appointed for Morning Prayer this morning: Psalm 35, which begins,

"Fight those who fight me, O Lord;
"attack those who are attacking me...

"Let those who seek after my life be shamed and humbled;
"let those who plot my ruin fall back and be dismayed."

And the Psalm goes on from there in that vein!

The violence of this Psalm has struck me particularly because of how the grieving Lancaster County (PA) Amish families are mourning their daughters who were murdered this past week in their school room. They are reaching out to the killer's family in a way that exactly contradicts this morning's appointed Paalm. They are reaching out with forgiveness! According to one report in last night's PBS "Newshour," one grieving family invited the killer's wife and children to their daughter's funeral -- and to the family gathering that followed, so that there could be an offering of God's grace to the murderer's family in their own severe suffering. (I don't know if the killer's wife accepted the invitation. It would be awfully hard be open enough to receive such profound forgiveness.)

What a witness, though, to Jesus' teachings on forgiveness! That is why the Amish families are reaching out in this way: they explain, simply, that Jesus teaches us to live in this way.

So, what about Psalm 35? How can I make it my own prayer? One way is to read it not literally, but figuratively.

"Fight those who fight me, O Lord;
"attack those who are attacking me."

That first verse of the Psalm becomes my prayer when I say,
"Fight the sarcoidosis that is fighting me, O Lord!
"Attack the sarcoidosis that is attacking my lungs!"

I do want God's healing to be that powerful, that aggressive!

And, again:
"Let those impulses within me, that cause me to be self-centered, be shamed and humbled;
"let those impulses, which would turn me inward and cause me to be depressed, fall back and be dismayed."

I do want God's life-giving grace to be that active within me!

It is good to turn Psalm 35 into my own prayer in this way. Today is not a good day. I don't feel as good today as I did yesterday. I am needing to rest more today than I did yesterday. It is going to be a long haul back to full energy and health, beginning with only a couple of hours of productive activity each day. I will be relying heavily on God's sustaining grace and love, which will be given to me through Scripture, through prayer, and through other people.

I have learned many things over the past two weeks of sickness.

I have learned what pulmonary sarcoidosis is. It is certainly not as bad a diagnosis as many other possibilities were. I had never heard of it before. But I have heard from several people who have successfully been treated of the illness. My son found an excellent web site, from the American Lung Association, for those who would like to know more:
http://www.lungusa.org/site/pp.asp?c=dvLUK9O0E&b=35766#serious

I have learned what maga-doses of steroids do to a person. I have immediately felt stronger and better able to breathe. I have experienced hours of insomnia. I have also heard my body tell me not to jump to the conclusion that I will get better quickly, that the steroids are only masking my continuing need for rest. As one friend e-mailed me, "I will pray for God's healing hand to be with you, and for you to have sense enough to pace yourself!"

I have learned of the tremendous strength that comes from God through your prayers and cards and words of concern and love. (I have never understood people who don't want their name put on a prayer list. Now I REALLY don't understand that!!)

I have learned (or, really, been reminded) of what a wonderful gift from God is the congregation and staff of St. Stephen. What grace there has been in the assurances from staff and members that they're carrying on, and that my job right now is to relax, stop worrying, and get better.

I have learned, during these days of enforced inactivity, the value of slowing down to the speed of a poet. One of my teachers has been a friend who sends me irregular extraordinary letters. She suffers from MS. I received a letter from her last week (which she began, "Hello, dear friend and fellow spiritual traveler--"). She did not know I was sick when she wrote it, but her last paragraph could not have been more to the point in instructing me how to deal with enforced inactivity:

"My time is blessed. I read, think, make grocery lists, write cards to lonely seniors, listen to birds singing to each other, read, think, help with homework, help edit [her husband's] presentations, read, think, write haiku, laugh at fawns bouncing in the side yard, exercise, tease bees with the hose when watering deck plants, visit with lonely folks downtown, eat sunflower seeds and crystalized ginger, listen to the creaking of the old, woodpecker-thinned walnut tree when the storm winds blow through. I inhale deeply and exhaled slowly. My life is blessed. My love to you."

Her love is God's love. So too is your love for me. God's blessings are so rich!

Day 10 of my fever. I woke up with the fever a week ago Saturday, when Patty and I were in South Carolina, visiting my ailing father. She had to drive all but about an hour of the way back home that day so we could be back for worship the next morning. But, when morning came, I was in no shape to be in church. And there's been fever every morning since.

Fortunately, as it turns out, tests were already scheduled that the pulmonary specialist will use to get to the bottom of what's going on. I'd had a chest x-ray on September 7, which revealed areas of "abnormality" in both lungs, and a C-T scan was already scheduled for this past Monday, the first Monday back from South Carolina. Also, this past week, I had much blood work done, and endured a throughly distasteful surgical procedure called a bronchoscopy, during which lung tissue was removed for biopsy and for culture.

So now, I wait. On Wednesday afternoon I meet with the pulmonary specialist to see what we're dealing with and what the treatment will be. I have a few hours each day of semi-lucid thinking (usually aided by Tylenol).

I've walked with hundreds -- probably into the thousands -- of people through sickness during nearly three decades of being a parish pastor. But this is the first time I've been this sick for this long. I don't know how to do it!

I am better at it than I was a week ago, as a result of my prayer and thining!

For instance, I spent this past summer immersed in the writings of two Spanish 16th century mystics, Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross. Teresa was sick a lot -- and she saw sickness as periods of spiritual growth. She writes that it gave her insight on Christ's sufferings. Otherwise, Christ's sufferings are only an intellectual concept, and we don't truly appreciate them. Hmmm. That's entirely counter to our therapeutic culture, isn't it? We're supposed to be feeling good all the time, right? If we don't feel good, then there's something wrong with us, right? So, I'm chewing on what Teresa writes. Hmmm. For another matter, it's so easy to move from what she writes, and to say that suffering is good. That is certainly not the case! But there is perverted theology in the Christian tradition that would make that claim. There's danger there.

John of the Cross wrote somthing that's more helpful for me. He urges us to look at what most bothers us during a period of suffering. When we identify that, then our spiritual task is to detach ourselves from that concern -- because that gets in the way of receiving the love of God during the suffering. That one is easy for me to understand. Those first nights of the fever, my dreams were lively with exaggerated anxiety -- projects that I needed to get to, responsibilities that I needed to fulfill, people whose needs I needed to meet. There was no possibility of God's love getting through all that crap. So: detach. Let go. Allow God's love free flow. There is healing in that.

Want to know one thing that's helped me with that detachment? Each morning I wake up, and I find that the world is still turning. Yes, it's true! It's true even though I haven't been doing a single "constructive" thing to help the world turn. So: detach. Let go. Allow God's love free flow. I am indeed receiving much spiritual and emotional healing, even as I wait for physical healing.