Back in August I participated in a funeral service for a beloved friend in Hot Springs, AR. It was also an unplanned, unscheduled gymnastics competition. My sweet friend would have laughed out loud at my spectacular landing. In the vernacular, I stuck it hard.

Here’s how it happened…

I spoke passionately for about twenty minutes. This particular friend? We could have talked for hours. There was a lot to say. Still is. Marilyn was one of the most loving, caring, and giving women I have ever known. If something needed to be done, she was the one. And if it required money and she couldn’t fund it herself, she could talk the Grinch into paying for it.

So here I was. My part of the funeral service was over, and that’s when I entered the gymnastic competition. Or tried to fly. I am not sure which—I’ll let you decide. At any rate, when I stepped down from the rostrum on to the lower (unsecured/ unattached) step, my athletic prowess began to shine… the step tossed and rolled—I went into the air, did a graceful turn, flip, and then planted myself into the hard floor shoulder first. My right shoulder. The one my right arm and hand is attached too. Did I mention I am right-handed? Why yes, yes, I am.

I don’t know if I have ever fallen and popped back up so quickly. Truthfully, I was mortified, embarrassed, and mortified some more.

Yesterday (Monday as I write this) the pain in my shoulder and arm finally got to the point where Becki was tired of hearing me complain about it (it’s the gift that keeps giving). So, I wimped out and made an appointment to see a doctor. That rarely happens in my world, but I went. The verdict? Who knows? At this point we are just going to treat it with Naproxen and see if it gets any better.

In the meantime, while I can’t quite scratch my back with my right arm or throw a ball like I should, I have run into some other health issues. Suffice it to say, I did not enjoy telling my wife how truly high my blood pressure was at the doctor’s office. No, that was not a conversation I wanted to have. All married men everywhere know the look. Yep, that one. I got it. Hard. Guys, pray for me. The fallout is severe. I am now on a starvation, uh, I mean strict, diet. As it was told to me, I WILL exercise every day (You are NOT leaving me here by myself with all these kids). And, I WILL learn to relax and let go of some of my stress and anxiety.

Unfortunately, I am not the only person with a magical ever-expanding waistline. And truthfully? I know I have to learn to turn things off, to not take things so personally, and to realize I am not the only person capable of whatever needs doing. It’s hard to break the habits of a lifetime, but that is what I must do to have a better quality of life and health.

While important, I wonder how many of us should be just as concerned about our spiritual health? I was asked today how many people around me live in poverty. It made me wonder how many people even in our own church family are living in spiritual poverty…

  • How’s my prayer life?
  • Do I spend quality devotional time with God?
  • Am I committed to my faith community?
  • Do I work at building God-honoring relationships with those outside my faith family?
  • What are my real-world spiritual priorities?

As it turns out, I know the things I need to do to make better my physical health—and I know the source of my spiritual well-being.

Are their needed changes in my life? You betcha!

Here’s this preacher giving you the look.

Les Ferguson, Jr.