In my line of work, it's something that is probably inevitable.  I've heard stories of several others going through similar experiences.  But this afternoon I got to experience it for myself for the first time:  preaching with a nasty stomach-flu.

It wasn't much fun.

It really is a tricky situation, though.  A sermon is something that takes several hours of preparation and is intensely personal.  It's not the kind of thing that can easily be handed off to someone else (either trusting that they can whip up their own sermon within a couple of hours' notice -- or handing them a stack of your own notes to try and work up into presentable form).  But at the same time, it's not something that can easily be accomplished, either -- considering the physical energy required to stand in front of the congregation for the better part of an hour, considering the need to be animated and engaging.  It's choosing the lesser of two options.  And after much deliberation (even thinking up a plan to send Marci to teach in my place, after having been briefed by me!), I decided that I would go ahead and try to do it myself.

And I'm still not sure if I made the right choice or not.

My teaching was two parts, with kind of a workshop exercise in between.  And after a good bit of rest and a lot of prayer, the first part of the teaching went remarkably well.  Not that I was in top-form.  But at least passable.  However, after the ten-minute workshop time, it went down-hill quickly.  I started teaching and almost immediately needed to sit down in a bar-stool that I had set aside if just such a need would arise.  But then I started sweating.  My back, my shoulders, my forearms, my forehead.  I kept talking through it all.  Then I started to feel light-headed and my vision blurred; people later told me that the color visibly drained from my face.  Still I kept talking.  At one point, though, I felt so miserable that I needed to stop and take a drink -- and at that moment, I noticed that just about everyone in the room visibly (and nervously) smiled and nodded in an overly-exagerated way, obviously having been made quite uncomfortable by my own level of discomfort.  It was embarrassing.  But after gathering myself for a moment, I finished the teaching and managed to hobble off to the church office where I crashed on the couch.

In the end, I made it.  But I genuinely wonder if anyone will remember any of the content of the teaching -- or if it will only be remembered for the circumstances in which the message was delivered.

It was a frustrating experience.  I know that the sickness was beyond my control, and I'm not beating myself up about being sick.  But I was frustrated and discouraged by the whole experience.  I was teaching on Luke 5, the story of the Big Catch, for goodness sake!  Teaching about applying faith in the areas of our failure, trusting that God can turn around our shortcomings (which, in my case, just so happen to be church leadership and Sunday preaching).  I prayed for the strength to make it through the teaching -- and I know that several others were praying for me, too... So what does that mean if God didn't answer those prayers?!?  I'm standing up there, trying to "rally the troops" for a new season of ministry -- speaking to a discouragingly-small crowd, by the way -- and I can't even present the content that God laid on my heart without my human frailty dominating the sermon!  What am I supposed to make of that?!?  So yeah, you could say that it was a frustrating experience...

I guess I really have no other choice but to entrust myself -- and my church -- to God.  Again.  And again.  And again.  Faith and patience must be applied in spite of (or perhaps because of) doubts and long periods of time.  And like I suddenly feel well enough to sit at a computer and write (after three hours of laying in my bed, covers drawn up around me against the fever as I curled up in a fetal position against the pain)... I have to hope that God will move us forward in His time and according to His plan.

In Jesus' name, Amen.