The Bug

By the time I was seven I had a full blown case of something I don’t know the name of. Somewhere between Utica and Vandalia I must have come in contact with the bug. You know when you have it when you find yourself writing sermons while your listening to someone else preach, you enjoy arranging chairs in straight lines, you get a warm sense of satisfaction when you put a good shine in your shoes, you’re ears perk up whenever you hear of a church that doesn’t have a pastor, and you respond to every invitation. I’ll never forget the first time I actually got to do the baptizing myself—outside, beautiful day, shallow pond, singing, food, the whole bit. There is something absolutely wonderful about administering the ordinances of church with your own two hands. You just have to experience it to know that sense of satisfaction you get from passing out the elements as Christ did himself. Of course, that’s not something you toy with. It’s the kind of thing that helps you to be your best. Sin confessed, accounts settled. I love it. It makes my heart pound. I suppose that’s how I know I got the bug.

If you have it you may notice an unsettled feeling at times. You feel driven and you couldn’t imagine what it would feel like not to be. You may feel inadequate but you still feel like taking on the world on some great crusade. Not everyone has this rather selective bug, but since I do I can only tell you what it’s like to have it. Don’t worry though, it won’t kill you. I mean, you’re gonna die anyway…of something…right?

Anyway, if you have a fully developed case of this yours is probably one of the only names in the bulletin with your phone number published beside it. No matter how hard you work the rest of the week you may often find your workweek peeking on Saturday night. You work like the devil on Sunday and take Mondays off when you can. You have a hymnbook with several dates written in the margin beside your favorites and you can tie your tie without even knowing your doing it. You have a parking spot at the local hospital and you’re on a first name basis with several morticians. But, even with all the furry and surprises it keeps calling you back. Like a breeze on a hot summer day right about the time you can’t take the heat any more—as if someone knew just what you needed. There it comes; clean, cool air. That refreshing breeze may actually be a tear in someone’s eye when you’ve made your point and they finally caught it. Or, watching the unbelieving husband walks the isle after he finally left the bar for the last time. It could be that kind lady that won’t let you pay her for her home-made bread, or the older gentlemen that stands up when you walk into the room. It’s a shifty vigil to watch for a man’s soul. But if you have the bug you go to sleep at night with your lips moving whispering the names of people you probably wouldn’t even know otherwise. Don’t feel like the Lone Ranger, though. Our kind doesn’t run in packs but we’re all over the place.

If you don’t have this bug you might like to know how you can spot someone who does. We watch people’s eyes. Listen between the lines. Sometimes we’re thought of as a salesman, but that’s not it. It’s just that we never know when the next person we meet is going to be a life long friend. We may not always make the best first impression but we grow on you. We sometimes pull over for hitchhikers, or give up a few bucks against our better judgment. We take you to the gas station and offer to take you back to your car. We study name badges and actually try to remember. We go to convenience stores even though we don’t play the lottery because our heart is burdened for the person who works behind the counter. Many of us kind of have a way with used cars or resale shops, but we don’t all golf and eat fried chicken.

There are some people who don’t manifest a full set of these symptoms. However, there is a possible explanation for this. If full symptoms never develop you may just be a carrier.