You know what? I like who I am.
In the past there were times in which I'd fallen in love with who I am. And then I managed to fall in love with a beautiful soul—a woman who captured my imagination and heart.
But I'm not at that point now. I love being me but I do not love myself (if that makes sense). I 'would' love myself, but I have let myself down too many times. Like the undependable friend or unfaithful lover or cheating spouse. Oh, you have fond memories. And, yes, you have history with these people. But the smoldering love you once felt? Nah. Just burning embers. And the drift like an Indianapolis race car on a high-banked curve? Burns rubber from love to like, eternity to yesterday.
I know who I am. I am comfortable in my own skin (if not my body). I enjoy my sense of humor, how I make people laugh. I can't tell a joke to save my life, but spontaneity is my specialty. But to tell a joke? My kids groan and speak of the mysterious “Dad jokes,” although I'm not a hundred percent I believe in such things. I've told a joke before, and after guttural sounds that could be labeled “groans,” one of my sons immediately told that selfsame joke and got a laugh from the whole room.
“When you said it,” my son explained, “It was a Dad joke—but when I said the joke, it was hilarious.”
I try to convince myself that it's just timing. But somehow I know it's more than that.
I feel like I miss social cues constantly. Missed emphasis on words, meanings, body language—something that I just don't get. And instead of lingering in awkward silence, I tend to enjoy being alone.
Now, don't get me wrong—I'm not one of those silent-killer types. You know: the outsider who is such an outsider he decides to kill people. I'm not a killer. I'm non-violent. And I'm a pacifist by nature. In addition to that, I speak before people who pursue such things. As a Pastor of a tiny congregation that bled out of the Holiness Movement, all carnality is frowned upon.
But in spite of believing myself to miss social cues, I am able to deliver a sermon until tears come to listeners' eyes. Kleenex is scattered throughout the sanctuary. And I know that this isn't in my power, for I have stumbled through conversations and stuck both feet in my mouth several times a day for years. I am not the kind of gifted speaker Barak Obama was or even Billy Crystal or Billy Graham.
And so I decrease and become smaller and smaller, until whatever it is that I am (Little Johnny) shrinks to subatomic particles. And the only thing left is this power greater than myself—the Spirit of God, the anointing, the Holy Ghost, the Kingdom within me.
So, I don't love myself to be honest. I know the heart is deceitfully wicked. Who can trust it? And I know I will let members of my congregation down because I have let myself down countless times.
But it is the spirit behind me, the movement beyond religion, a momentum that propels me forward and yet at the same exact time makes me desire to diminish myself until I am no longer standing before you, Dear Reader. And the only thing left is the Light of the Universe bleeding through every written word, shining through every spoken sentence, and illuminating through every work my hands find themselves doing.
I'll always be Little Johnny. But behind me is the power of the universe, the power of the Creator. And He doesn't propel me before great crowds of through televangelist programs—thank God! He lets me be me with my simple, humorous spontaneity that brings a smile or a chuckle to those who need it. That bring a simple word to a single soul crying on the inside despite wearing a smile on the outside like a mask.
Godliness with contentment is great gain. I am content with my lot in life. Where I am. Where I'll be buried. I am making peace with my soul, with my past... and with my future. Mom's grave stone has just recently been placed at her place of burial. It shows me the way I am going. And sometimes I cannot wait, because I know that there will be peace in the valley, and serenity when my body is laid in the grave.
But for now I am content with each breath, each sermon, each spontaneous joke. I am grateful for each son and each daughter-in-law. I love them very much. I am elated when I see tears as I'm preaching, knowing that a power greater than me is at it once again. I am grateful for my writing because it keeps me from going crazy.
And I am grateful for you, Dear Reader. Although we may have never met, I love you. Honestly. Because if you've read down this far, Dear Reader, then you allowed me to take up quite a bit of your time. You've allowed me to share some things. You've allowed me to expose some things about myself in all honesty.
I love you for that.
And despite never, ever meeting any time soon (unless you attend my church)... I want to say thank you.
Thank you.
PS: I am not editing this as I always do. I want it real, heartfelt and pragmatically heartfelt. Even if it IS filled with typos and the errors that I know will cause someone to stumble through it. Yet, despite all that, I hope you feel what I'm feeling right now. A little bit sated. Partially elated. But mostly just feeling... serenity.
Again, thank you.