Tell Me God Doesn’t Have a Sense of Humor

This picture brings a flood of emotion. Good, bad, and everything in between. I love and appreciate my friend, Leslie. She’s a sweet gift to my life and makes my heart happy (GOOD). On this particular night, the world was literally hours  away from declaring a state of emergency due to Covid (BAD). And my hair had started growing back from chemo and radiation (IN BETWEEN). There’s also the other stuff; under the shirt.

I was sitting in my office this past Friday night, putting the finishing touches on a talk I had written along with the corresponding PowerPoint. I often talk out loud to God and that night was no exception. I had been arguing with myself about including another paragraph. The only thing better than arguing with myself is arguing with God. You’ve done it, too, right? The following words came out of my mouth: “God, why couldn’t we have a weekend with all female pastors so that I could say, ‘Ladies, I have uneven boobs.” I understand that now you need some context.

I was writing the talk for a retreat/conference weekend that I’m affiliated with. There are separate weekends for men and women. However, it’s often challenging to find five female pastors who are available; therefore, we frequently have one or two men join us for part of the weekend events. I knew that two male pastors would be joining us and I was questioning how appropriate it would be for me to say those words above. I ultimately closed my laptop and walked away without another thought. No big deal.

Saturday morning, we were scheduled for team meetings where I would have the opportunity to give my talk to the team and receive feedback and critique. Four other individuals were also on the agenda, one being a male pastor. I had never met John before, and I didn’t know any of his story. Listening intently, I was caught up in everything he had to say. And then the story took an unexpected turn. I was blindsided. Totally caught off guard. He said, “Ladies, I have uneven boobs”.

Maybe you need to go back and read those last couple of sentences again. Did you read that? He said, “Ladies, I have uneven boobs”. He had been describing years of drug use that had caused damage to his heart. He went in for surgery and when they closed his chest up, he came back out “uneven”.

I’m not sure that I heard a word he said after that. It was probably terribly profound and I missed the whole dang thing. I was too stuck on “uneven boobs”. Wouldn’t you be? Come on! Is it just me?

We can whine and complain and even argue with God about the most seemingly insignificant things. And even though my rant that evening had been so unwarranted, God heard my nonsense and even answered me. He answered me through a male pastor talking to a room full of women.

So, back to the stuff under the shirt. Through all of the experiences of being diagnosed with breast cancer, having surgery, completing chemo and radiation, losing my hair, puking non-stop, etc., most of those memories stay stored in the back of my mind. But every day, at some point in the morning or evening, I find myself in front of a mirror. Naked. And I’m reminded. God cares about the big things, but he also cares about uneven boobs. To be loved by a God that is that intimate, along with an outrageous sense of humor? Yes, please.