Transplant won't let me go without one last run through the ringer. Sunday was supposed to be my first day off since the snow day. I went to church, bought some gifts for Payton's first birthday, and was heading over to Myung's place to see his latest impulse purchase, a Bowflex-vs-coat-hanger (we'll see). Then I got called in for a liver transplant. Before I drove back down to the city, though, I made sure to stop by Paul/Seung's kid's party and inhale some food. The transplant took all night and, of course, I didn't get home until today because I was already scheduled to be on call yesterday. Transplant ends tomorrow. One more day for the rest of my life.

While we were driving around yesterday, Sharon talked about how she was bothered by the fact that the Christian life that Anson urges us toward in his sermons doesn't even begin to resemble our day-to-day. I remember thinking a few weeks ago that today's congregation, at least at Bethel, is made up of certain types of people. We are mostly single, some career-oriented (although maybe not by choice), usually with a fairly long history of being involved in the Church, some combination of wanting to be earnest and comfortable being jaded, perhaps settling into living as "mature Christians," which probably doesn't mean what we think it means. And I thought about how difficult it is to try to reach a group like that - and I mean really reach, to the point of significant and sustaining life change. Did we grow out of passion? Was holiness a phase? When God calls, can we drop everything and go? I know it's humanly possible because that's what I've been doing for work for the last two months, but is it spiritually possible when the only one who won't let go is not me?

The thing is, that's really the only way it's spiritually possible. I want to be put through the ringer, if only that I would live that life for the rest of my days.