Confessions of a Former Burnout
That was prophetic! (ffffaaaaaaarrrrrrrtttttt!) As I sit here, I've just gotten through watching the infamous Farting Preacher, Robert Tilton. This guy never ceases to crack me up. How can he not know that his facial expressions contributed to one of the biggest religion jokes of all time? He's also one of the wackiest crooks out there. "I just know there's one more person gonna make me a thousand-dollar vow!" :-D Also, as I sit here, I am contemplating something I've done in the past couple of weeks. I took a bold move to combat something that has beset me in recent years. You see, my name is Deaf Jedi, and I am a former burnout. (Audience: Hi, Deaf Jedi!) It's been 2 and a half years now since I last said "hell with it." (sniff sniff) But seriously, burnout is a condition that afflicts an insane number of those in the ministry. It's unreal. And if left untreated, one can struggle with the effects or aftereffects for a long time afterwards. Guess what I did? Ding ding, that's right--I thought I was man enough to do it myself. I've skirted the edge ever since. But as part of the requirements for my supervision class, I was required to set "learning goals" for the semester, and I figured, "why not?" So I listed as a primary goal the conquest of burnout. Part of what I will do in my "master plan" is give accountability to my supervisor and peer group. That's so evil, it's worthy of Darth Sidious. ;-) So from time to time, perhaps once or twice a week, there will appear on this weblog an addition to your irregularly scheduled mock entertainment. There will be an as-yet-unnamed report detailing the current progress of combat in update format. Otherwise there will still be the regular fare of half-baked ranting, liberal debunking, funny happenings, thought of the day detailing, blast-and-bebothers, so on and so forth. With that, I now leave you with my modified Irish Blessing of the Month: May the road always rise to meet you, May the wind be at your back, Don't fall and get asphalt all over your schnozz, And run if Robert Tilton stinks up your shack.