Which is why I just deleted an entire post.
It was long. It was about my friend Cheryl, and why I'm not going to drive her to church.
I began by outlining the many ways I've been a friend to Cheryl, who goes to my old church and has had myriad health problems this past year. I told you about the hospital visits I made, the diabetic baked goods I baked. I made it clear to you that I am a Good Guy when it comes to Cheryl.
I mentioned at length how I will be helping out Cheryl this summer by walking her dog. I did not mention that I think maybe she should find another home for her dog. You might not think I was a Good Guy if I suggested maybe a woman who has difficulty walking should not, at this time in her life, own a dog.
It's important you think I'm a Good Guy. After all, the whole post was leading up to the fact that I'm not going to drive someone--someone I consider a friend, someone who can't drive herself, someone who at the age of 57 has to live in assisted living with the ninety-year-olds--to church.
You have to be a Very Good Guy to get away with that.
The fact is, it's hard to justify not driving someone to church, even if the church in question is not your church. Even if the question might be raised: Why isn't someone from the church that is her church and not your church driving her? (Actually, it was someone from her church who suggested I might drop Cheryl off on my way to church).
My justification for not driving someone who really wants to go to church to church? I will have to leave home forty-five minutes early. Cheryl's church is on the way to my church, it's true, but Cheryl's in a wheelchair. I've taken Cheryl to church before, to the Thursday service, and I can tell you it's quite an affair to wheel someone to your van, push her into the front seat, cram the chair into the back, drive, get there, get the chair out, and pull her back into the chair.
I sound terrible. I sound like a Not Very Good Guy. I don't want to help someone in a wheelchair. I don't want to get up forty-five minutes early on Sunday to do a job surely Jesus would do.
But Jesus didn't have to get Jack and Will and the Man ready for church, did He? If He did, I suspect he might be on my side in this particular instance of selfishness.
I can bake the diabetic baked goods. I can make the visits. I can walk the dog. But getting everyone ready for church forty-five minutes early? Or leaving the Man to get the boys ready while I took the other car to get Cheryl? Honey, there wouldn't be no boys from my family at church if that happened.
So there you have it. I'm not a Good Guy. I am a lazy, selfish guy with a husband and children who are all but helpless (not to mention not particularly motivated when it comes to church-going). All I've got going for me at this time is the sincere desire to make reading this blog worth your time. It's all I have left. And frankly, it might not be enough to save me.
Under the Speading Chestnut Tree
5 hours ago