On the first day of the week we came together to break bread. Paul spoke to the people and, because he intended to leave the next day, kept on talking until midnight. There were many lamps in the upstairs room where we were meeting. Seated in a window was a young man named Eutychus, who was sinking into a deep sleep as Paul talked on and on. When he was sound asleep, he fell to the ground from the third story and was picked up dead. Paul went down, threw himself on the young man and put his arms around him. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “He’s alive!” Then he went upstairs again and broke bread and ate. After talking until daylight, he left. The people took the young man home alive and were greatly comforted. (Acts 20:7-12, NIV Bible).I made a serious effort not to fall asleep today in our church service, even though the text above shows that you might receive a miracle if you fall asleep. Not falling asleep is especially important for me since I am a volunteer assistant pastor at our church and sit on the platform, and it is quite embarrassing to take a little snooze and have everyone in the sanctuary see it. The pastor had even spoke to me about it, but I still fell asleep the following two weeks. I tried to keep active today by taking notes and journaling during the message. It worked pretty well, but I got concerned when the yawning started.
I hate myself for doing this, but at least I've been consistent through the years. I fell asleep at my previous church too, but I sat in the congregation with everyone else, so it wasn't as noticeable. I'm sure I would fall asleep during a Joel Osteen or Rick Warren sermon too if I had the chance to hear them. I'd last a few minutes, yawn a couple of times, and then my head would start dropping repeatedly, even though they are the most famous preachers in the world. There is no public speaker that cannot put me under! In fact, I sometimes have this feeling that in a past life I fell asleep while listening to Socrates give a speech. Socrates! Then, as I think about it more, I get this similar impression that it happened with Euripides and Sophocles, although I can't remember what either of them looked like. Then Lincoln's Gettysburg Address comes to mind. Yep, I think I may have been there too, and not long after “Four-score and seven years ago . . .” I must have gone down and out. That first phrase is the only thing I can remember about the entire speech. Yes, I've succumbed to slumber under some of the greatest orators in the history of the world.
A comfy chair, a wooden plank: It doesn't matter to me. When my tush goes down, my eyelids will soon follow. Try not eating, you say? No matter. Usually, I'm hungry on Sunday mornings, but it doesn't keep me from sleep. Even today, as I listened to a message, I was starving and yet I still got sleepy. This makes no sense.
Growing up, my grandfather modeled random snoozing for me. (I lived with my grandparents and mother growing up.) He would come home from his work as a bricklayer, rear back in his recliner, and get a little shuteye just before getting up for a rib-eye steak for supper. (Clarification: We called our lunch “dinner” and we called dinner “supper.”) Sometimes he would nap after supper, and sometimes he would nap before and after. I remember that he fell asleep on the couch one evening during an appointment he and my grandmother had with an insurance salesman. I know he did not start out lying down on the couch, but by the end he was there, out cold, while the salesman droned on with his talk to my grandmother. I would come out of my room every so often and walk to the kitchen and back just to see the spectacle. I admired my grandfather's courage that he displayed by falling asleep in front of a total stranger! My grandmother bought a policy from the salesman because she felt bad for him.
For better or worse, I have inherited this napping ability. In fact, I have gotten so sleepy during my 30-minute commute home from work that I have pulled off the road to sleep a little before continuing the trip. Yes, I know my body, and I know when to say when.
Yawn. Aw-oh! I'm starting to feel one coming on, so I'll be quick about this. My grandpa and his cousin Bud took me to the Indianapolis 500 when I was a senior in high school. To get there, we had to leave at midnight from Southern Illinois so we could get settled at the race for the 11:00 a.m. start. Staying up all night was a difficult for a couple of 60-year olds, even though they were both at their first Indianapolis 500, a race they had each wanted to see their entire lives. We were excited to arrive at Indy at the break of dawn, walk around in the infield area, and see all of the people at what is one of the biggest parties at a U.S. sporting event. We finally made it to our seats at about 10:00 a.m. The seats were on the back row of the bleachers, but gave us a good view of the entire straightaway and finish line. It was hard work to watch lightning fast zoom by over and over again on such little sleep. In fact, the race was a couple of hours old, A.J. Foyt (our favorite driver) was struggling, the sun was scorching hot, and I looked over and my grandpa had fallen asleep, his head facing down with the crown of his head firmly planted in the man's back in front of him as if my grandpa's head were a battering ram. The man was not too thrilled with this arrangement. Next to my grandpa, his cousin Bud was leaned back against the fence, his face skyward and mouth open, snoozing away. I decided to lean back and join them because I was tired too, even though I was only 17 years old and at one of the biggest, loudest races in the world.
My wife does not understand how I can fall asleep like this. To be honest, I don't understand how she cannot fall asleep like I do. Falling asleep is a simple fact of life. You get up. You live. You get tired. You fall asleep. You wake up and go on. What's so wrong with that?
So you see, napping is a family tradition for me.