I was MIA last Sunday...
I can count on one hand the number of Sundays I’ve missed in the last 10 years.
Which is both impressive… and mildly concerning.
My body runs this deeply ingrained script:
Wake up at a time when only God is awake
Chug coffee like my salvation depends on it
Forget breakfast
Drive to church, praying I remembered to brush my teeth
Prepare for people
Minister like my coffee finally kicked in
Realize I haven’t eaten anything—ten minutes before the second service
Smile, nod, and answer “How are you?” fifty-seven times
Eat lunch like I’ve been fasting for 40 days
Collapse on the couch with dramatic flair
Wake up disoriented and suspicious
Realize it’s still Sunday
Go to bed, spiritually full and socially bankrupt
And then somehow, I do it again the next week.
Because I’m called.
Why was I MIA this time?
I was at home.
The house was 73 degrees, and I was freezing under blankets.
Turns out, I wasn’t feeling all that great—and I wasn’t standing up very well either.
My wife, who knows me best, got in my face (gently) and told me I was sick.
And she was right. I would’ve gone, and probably come home halfway through anyway.
I’m so thankful for her.
Because here’s the thing: I don’t always know my limits.
But the Lord does.
“He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust” (Psalm 103:14).
That verse hits different when you’re lying under three blankets wondering why gravity feels heavier today.
Rest is obedience.
Wisdom is listening to the person God gave you to keep you human. And sometimes, ministry looks like knowing when to sit down so you can stand up again next week.
Honor your limits. God does.
And He never asked you to be the Savior—just to show up faithfully… with clean teeth and maybe a protein bar.