I was sick this weekend. I hate being sick. Especially when I need to be working. Diane asked me on Thursday, "What are you going to do tomorrow?" I said, "I'm going to do what I must. People need to be fed."
I thought about cancelling the service Saturday, but a number of people walked or drove for miles just to come to the service. I was miserable, but I did it. People need to be fed.
Of course, we don't want all the street folks to get sick. So I washed my hands a lot.
After the service on Saturday, I tried to take a nap. I had just closed my eyes when a knock came at the door with a couple who wanted to talk. They had been driving from church to church, looking for a minister to pray with. The man, Fred, told me his story. He's suffered with mental illness for a number of months. He was telling me all of his accomplishments in life, and they were many. I told him, "God has put you in a place where you have to recognize your weaknesses and depend on Him. Cry out to Him, and He will strengthen you in as much as you need to depend on Him." We prayed together.
That was as much for me as for him. I hate being sick. But if being sick means that I cry out to God and let God show me that it is His ministry, not mine, then so be it.