Singing a New Song

I'm a pastor.  There are lots of other things I was interested in doing vocationally, and perhaps one or two of those things I might have even done well.  But for pretty much all of my adult life, when I look in a mirror I see a pastor looking back.  The reality of my life is I work Sundays.  It took a while for me to discover that Sunday is not my sabbath.  Leading worship is work, and -- for me, at least -- I know that I cannot be authentic in what I preach and teach about all of us needing a worship life if I am not constantly discovering avenues for worship for my own soul's contentment.  And so, today my soul is fulfilled.  Pastoring a church on a college campus has benefits, including opportunities on Tuesday morning to worship among students and staff in Chapel, which affords me the luxury of worshipping without responsibility.

This morning, we sang a new song, or at least one that was unfamiliar to me.  I'm not even sure I caught the title.  I'm not even sure I consciously was aware of the verse.  But as I sang along with the lyrics on the screen, the chorus began to speak to me.  Oh, the way you love me ... Oh, the way you call me ... Oh, the way you save me -- I love you.  It has stirred in me since.  And the extraordinary chaplain, Lucas, has this wondrous audacity to, of all things, preach from Nehemiah.  Who does that?!  And he did so extraordinarily well, ending his message with the invitation to ponder, "God, will you supply us what we need?".  I have been to worship!

It was four weeks ago today that I had surgery.  I don't know how Molly feels, but that seems like an eternity ago.  For all the reading and researching I've done, the conversations with others who've been down this path I've had, the conversations with doctors and nutritionists I've been a part of, and the processing with Molly every step of the way, I haven't fully felt prepared at any step of this journey.  My journey thus far into bariatric surgery has felt a little like growing in faith or falling in love:  eventually it ceases to be an academic exercise and requires a leap.  Until I jumped off the cliff six weeks ago and began that kooky liquid diet, I never knew I had this inner strength to do what I am doing.  My last few weeks testify that, indeed, God will supply what we need.

This morning I stepped on the scales.  I only do this first-thing in the morning, in my bathrobe to ensure I'm weighing while consistently wearing the same thing.  While this journey got real when the liquid diet began, I regard that initial consultation with the surgeon in October as the beginning of the journey when they took my weight, body measurements, and had me pose for a polaroid.  As of this morning, I've lost 50 pounds, all but a few I've lost in the past six weeks.  I'm no different than most bariatric patients in that I've done diet programs before and even experienced modest -- although short-lived -- success.  This is the most weight I've ever lost and I now weigh less than I ever have in my adult life. 

My faith reminds me constantly that I am blessed.  Indeed I am.  There is no human way I could have done this on my own.  Molly has been my rock.  Her support, encouragement, and faith in me has been unwavering even when I have been uncertain.  Our girls have typified grace in their own beautiful ways -- with compassion and concen and seemingly no distraction from their normal routines, much to my delight.  My calling as husband and daddy is the only thing more important than my calling as pastor -- and I give God thanks that God equips me for my role in each.  I simply cannot separate my love of them from my love of God -- the hymn of praise to God I sang this morning is the love song I sing to them:  Oh, the way you love me ... Oh, the way you call me ... Oh, the way you save me -- I love you.