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My Sister: She Was More Than Her Illness

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I was not ready for the call as I resurfaced from physical therapy last Tuesday morning.  Chandra, my baby sister, had died in her sleep.  It was sad in so many ways,

 It was sad because of her age.  Forty-seven years old is not old, especially when it is over a decade younger than me.  Isn’t that how we use the terms “young” and “old?”

It was sad because of the timing.  While her body was that of someone twice her age, she had begun to make some better health choices.  She was in love and her marriage partner was supportive and present. 

But, not all was sad. 

She died in her sleep quietly and calmly.  She died knowing she was loved and was making headway against the storms and disappointment of her life.  Most importantly, she died knowing she was seeking the fellowship of God and made her decision personal and public when I baptized her last year.

When I stood to speak at her funeral, which was considerably more difficult than I had imagined, I began by saying what was not a surprise to any of my siblings:  “I don’t believe any of the children of our family had it as difficult as Chandra did.” 

The baby of the family, she contradicted what most birth order experts say about those born last, in our case, the last of six.  Her “difficulty” or “demon” or whatever you call it, was a product of both genes and environment, both nature and nurture.  Born within the destructive contours of alcoholism and family dysfunction, she never got out of the starting gate for the race that was her life.

As I prepared for the funeral, I oddly found myself fumbling through passages from the gospel of Luke.  I was attracted to the story of the man with leprosy and the father with a wayward son.  Then it hit me why.  In both of these stories, the person with the physical disease and the person with the emotional dis-ease, were people whose “illness” came from their nature and nurture.  

Likely the result of a sibling rivalry boiled over, the nurture of a loving father could not convince the adventurous son to stay within the net of family support.  Likely the result of bacteria, gone untreated and chronic, the nature of leprosy was progressive, causing permanent damage to the skin, nerves, limbs and eyes. 

Nature or nurture, disease or dis-ease, what I discovered in these two stories was that it did not matter to Jesus.  While I, and many of the people who knew her, defined Chandra by her “illness,” Jesus had this wonderful ability to love and to understand that “illness is illness,” and no matter what its cause, people are so much more than their illnesses. 

Without any questions asked, I heard Chandra in the words of the leper when he said, “Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.  And (Jesus) stretched out his hand, and touched him, saying, ‘You will be clean.’”  For Jesus, illness is illness, something to be set right by the love of the one true living God.

No, Chandra didn’t wake up last Tuesday to face her illness.  She woke up to the voice of the one who would not define her by her illness.  She woke up to the one who touched her and said, “You will be clean.”  Thanks be to God!

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Waking Up and Finding a Sledgehammer in my Neck

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This is the final installment (I think?) of my mini-series from the past.  While recuperating from my hip replacement surgery, I am re-reading my previous ponderings on the miracle of healing when I had neck surgery in 1995.  Here is part three.   Blessings!

When I was finally able to wake up (control people hate to be put to sleep), I was immediately conscious of two things:  while I felt stiff, I didn’t feel a lot of pain including the right arm which had been throbbing and numb for weeks.  I delayed my excitement because I was still drugged.  Within 24 hours, I would realize that 85% of the previous right arm pain was gone.

 The nurses attended to my every care … and some I didn’t even know I had.  They woke me up every hour on the hour to shine a flashlight in my eyes.  It was something about this being “brain” surgery.  I had never, fortunately, thought of it that way.  I found myself serendipitously energized by my post-surgery, mostly pain-free experience.  It was then and there I decided … continued health and God willing, I would write about this mind-boggling, body-altering experience. 

The day after surgery … I found a sledgehammer in my neck disguised as 10 metal staples.  The stiffness in my neck was inconceivable and gave record to the journey of the past 24 hours. 

 The official stapler arrived with an air of quiet confidence.  He asked how I was doing and I related the odd excitement of my mostly sleepless night.  He smiled and said the surgery had gone extremely well, but cautioned me about returning “residual” right arm pain and I hated that he was right. 

He also mentioned two souvenirs from our journey into the world of “necks and nerves.”  One he thought would be temporary, the other more permanent.  The first referenced a conversation in his office when he mentioned some “post-surgery neck pain.”  He warned of my Frankenstein-like neck mobility while the staples were present. It gave a new and improved understanding of the phrase “a pain in the neck!” 

 The second and more long-term souvenir from the surgery, the doctor identified as a numb place along the inside of my thumb and index finger.  Running his finger along this area of his concern, he said, “A loss of feeling here is sometimes a result of this kind of surgery.”  I felt slightly challenged by the comment and tucked it away in the back of my mind.

I was then given a surprising peek behind the wizard’s curtain.  My surgeon, professional and reserved, leaned back and listened as I expressed appreciation for my anesthesiologist, who I lovingly named “Dr. Poke.”  After listening intently, he smiled and said, “He is a good man.  I have known him for a long time.  Matter of fact, I had the terrible task of telling him his 10 year old child was brain dead from a car accident a few years ago.” 

Stunned by both the story and the storyteller, I re-connected the pieces of my pre-surgery puzzle with Dr. Poke and how he shattered my prejudice toward “pain numbers.”  His view from behind the surgery room mask was not one etched by med school tests and laboratory experiments.  No, his tender presence and soft touch was born of an agony and pain of the unforgettable kind.  The awful and awkward truth about the death of his child had moved him to understand—healers heal best when they are wounded healers!

Pain can be the great paralyzer or the great paraphraser.  It can steal us of all our words and leave us for dead or it can translate our stone cold silence into words that bring life.  And the best part of this is we have a small, but significant part in what our pain accomplishes in our life.  Thanks be to God!

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Going to See the Wizard!

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If you read these articles with the same fervor that I write them, then you will not be surprised to know that being both relevant and personal “each week” is a delicate dilemma.  For the past few weeks, while recuperating from my hip replacement surgery, I have been doing some comparison reading.  Reflecting on my previous neck surgery of over almost 20 years ago, I have sought parallels in the healing process. 

 

This week as I prepared to move from past reflections to present realities, well, reality got too real.  My youngest sister, Chandra, passed away in her sleep Monday night and while I will need to write about this experience (it is part of my grieving), frankly, right now it is too fresh.  So, I offer another peek into my past healing.

After a week at home, filled with daily doses of progress called pain, I found myself giddy about seeing the wizard (my surgeon).  Like a well-studied student going to the class of his favorite teacher, I wanted to impress the wizard with my post-surgery education.  While not anywhere near graduation, I was doing the work and, at least as far as I could see, making the grades.  But it was time for a new word from the wizard!

This trip to the waiting room was different.  While I was looking and listening the first time, this time I found myself scanning and planning.  I was scanning the room for rookies and planning my “post-op” answers to their “pre-op” questions.  Fortunately for all involved, my waiting time was brief and my story of the “yellow brick road” delayed.  My name called, I entered the wizard’s world. 

He entered with a smile, immediately reaching for that now sacred place on the back of my neck.  Pulling the bandage off, he remarked not only about the healing progress of the wound, but also about the length of the scar.  It was small, straight and hardly noticeable.  He asked if I would like to get the staples out and I almost hugged him. 

Then I blurted it all out!  I spoke as a man who had been saving his words.  Pain management will do that to a person.  It drains you and fills you all at the same time.  You look closely for healing and relief and while both came early and often for me, I was a “trader man” bartering my old pain for a newer version.  The old pain was debilitating and demeaning.  The new pain was heavy but strengthening. 

With all the fervor of a stray dog finding food and safety, I feasted on the opportunity to ask questions and offer my now experienced view of the way home.  The wizard enjoyed hearing about life on the other side of the scalpel. 

What I learned is simple and true.  Healing begins with a journey of trust and ends with a declaration of hope.  Healing starts by trusting the healer and concludes with an understanding of pain.  Healing happens when minds are submitted to knowledge and practice and hearts are surrendered to hope and wholeness.  Healing happens.  Yes it does!

 

 

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Passion, Perseverance and Predictions

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It happens every year when the light of February overtakes the shadows of January.  Punxsutawny Phil, the world’s most famous groundhog, and the Super Bowl, the world’s most famous football game, make their grand arrival and at the root of all their fanfare is the issue of predictions. 

The groundhog, which now has a Facebook page, Twitter account and satellite feed, reenacts the legend that says if the critter sees his shadow, there will be six more weeks of winter.  If not, spring is supposedly around the corner.  According to GameBookers.com, the odds are stacked for Phil to see his shadow tomorrow (February 2). 

The Super Bowl is predicted to be a close game, the New England Patriots a 3.5 point favorite to beat the New York Giants despite the fact the Giants won an earlier regular season game as well as the last time they played in the Super Bowl.  My money, figuratively speaking, is on the Giants.

Each year we calculate new goals and end up spending serious time on life planning or predictions about how “perseverance and passion” will lead us into our preferred future.  While I will never doubt the power of perseverance and passion, I do find myself wondering if we beat the drum of these two “no-brainers” without listening to the steadying music of “discernment.” 

A tragic story I read brought this to sheering clarity.  It is the story of Nathan Stiles.  Straight-A student, homecoming king and football team star running back who also played varsity basketball and loved to sing at church.  After sitting out three games for persistent headaches, his second game back and last game of his senior year turned out to be the final game of his life.  Nathan died of second-impact syndrome caused when a player is hit before the brain is healed from an initial concussion.

While nothing in the story indicates a negligence by either the doctors or the parents, I could not shake the underlying theme … why was no one able to “discern” that Nathan’s perseverance and passion would cause him to be involved in an activity that took his life?

Discernment is the ability to detect, to recognize and to perceive what is going on around you.  It is insight beyond the obvious and outside the realm of facts.  Discerning people have more than knowledge.  They have understanding and perspective.  Discerning people move beyond their wants to their needs.  Discerning people make the right choices amid the tough circumstances.

Spiritually speaking, discernment enters into the realm of wisdom. 

·      King Solomon prayed for such wisdom:  “So give Thy servant an understanding heart to judge Thy people to discern between good and evil … (I Kings 3:9).” 

·      The Apostle Paul said, “And this I pray, that your love may abound still more and more in real knowledge and all discernment (Philippians 1:9).”

Let me offer a prediction.  Perseverance and passion, without the incredible power of discernment, can, not only take a life, they can derail yours and mine!   

Look around.  Where do you need the passion to step it up?  Where do you need the perseverance to keep it going?  And most of all, where do you need to stop and pray and think and discern your next step?  It can be the difference between life and death. 

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The Grandeur of Greatness

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This comes from the “did you know?” category.  Did you know that on the same day this coming Monday (January 30) in different years, three world leaders had significant things happen in their lives?  Franklin D. Roosevelt was born (1882), Mahatma Gandhi was assassinated (1948), and Adolf Hitler became Chancellor of Germany (1933).        

Born in Hyde Park, New York, President Roosevelt’s greatest triumph may have been his ability to overcome a great physical handicap after he was stricken with infantile paralysis.  Gandhi, of India, was the father of modern nonviolent civil disobedience and was assassinated in 1948 in New Delhi.  Hitler, after becoming Chancellor, launched Germany into a suicidal path of hate and war.  All were men of potential significance, yet the choices they made and the paths they took determined the grandeur of their greatness.        

One man overcame unbelievable physical obstacles to serve as the longest-standing President of the United States.  He will be remembered best for his Great Depression dictum to the American people, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”   Another man used methods of passive resistance and nonviolent disobedience to assist India in her drive for independence from Britain.  Ironically, he was assassinated on the way to his prayer garden.  The other man dreamed of creating a “master race” of pure Aryans.  As a part of this plan, he supervised the murder of six million Jews and other supposed enemies of the Third German Empire.

Oh, how we marvel at the capacity of men and women to do good and bad.  The impact and potential of our lives has been, and will always be, a matter of timing and choices.  So, as we move into the wonder and hope of this New Year, may we reflect on the lives and choices of these three men and remember—all were men of potential significance, yet the choices they made and the paths they took determined the grandeur of their greatness.       

One thing I know for sure about God and His future for us—He wants us to be a “great” church in His eyes.  Never have I felt more convicted about the use of my time and resources, the value of telling the story of Jesus and the incredible opportunity we have to be the “church” in this piece of the world that God has gifted us.  Yes, the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.

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Retribution, Redemption and the Latonia Looters

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I always look for coincidence, a moment in time, an experience or maybe, a learning curve.  Being a historian, I have noticed how often I can have one of these “moments” without ever having the actual “pain” of the experience.  Well, actually, I know better and learned that again this week.

I came to the office and discovered the destruction of the Latonia looters.  Now four churches in our neighborhood, we were the latest in a spree of trashing and stealing overnight on Monday night.  When I walked through the office and building, looking at the invasion into our privacy, my mind raced back to a place on Frankfort Avenue in Louisville, Kentucky. 

I was a seminary student and new father.  Nicholas, our first-born, was less than a year old and we pulled up in front of our apartment and I immediately noticed the curtain in my office was pushed back as though someone had pushed it aside.  I told Neva to stay in the car until I checked the apartment.  Our worst fears were realized as we counted the items missing … video camera (you know the big ones you had to sit on your shoulder), IBM typewriter, and then the worst of the worst … they had taken our videotapes of bringing Nicholas home from the hospital. 

Funny how one moment in time can transport a person to another and with it the same pain of violation.  Now, let me be clear, the looters took nothing of value at the church that was even close to those VHS-sized videotapes, but the same sense of violation and the same sense of retribution hung in the air. 

Retribution you say, but you are a pastor.  Yes, retribution my friends, because long before I was a pastor, I was a kid on the playground at 10th district elementary school and I learned from the hard-knocks of childhood politics that eventually Joe Palma, the schoolyard bully, would get around to me.  Finally, he did. 

I had been taking karate lessons all of 3 months and fortunately for me, my brother was with me and the two of us together were able to deflect the playground pushing.  I left that day claiming retribution from the top of my head to tips of my toes!

Retribution is defined as punishment that is considered to be morally right and fully deserved, usually in response to a felt wrong.  Little did I know I would spend the next several decades of my life in the art and practice of karate and along the way realized my goal for retribution had melted into a discipline for redemption.  Instead of learning to defend myself, I learned to let God shape and mold me through my physical training, which quickly paralleled my spiritual training.  Instead of looking for ways to get even, I found ways to get well … and whole, and forgiving and finally able to take “most” moments of retribution and turn them into moments of redemption.

As I walked around the church I reflected on “from whence I had come.”  While I admit, I lingered in the Old Testament for a while (“an eye for an eye”), I quickly made my way into the grace and goodness and “turn the other cheek” redemption of the New Testament.   Just as the stealers of our newborn’s videos could not lock me into the room of retribution, neither can the looters of our church’s sanctity, keep me from the room of God’s full and freeing redemption.  Thanks be to God!

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Yes and No and You and Me!

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We are going through the “no” stage with our soon-to-be 2 year-old granddaughter, Jensen.  Some call it the “Terrible Twos,” but I have never liked that designation.  What I have learned about this developmental stage for Jensen is she is “just trying to express her growing independence and does not have the language skills to easily express her needs.” 

No matter how long that stage lasts, it is still too long.  Hot on its heels is another developmental stage — the “me want” stage.  Unfortunately, this fixation lasts longer than the “no” stage—like from age 2 until about 106. “Me want” is the cornerstone of our consumer culture and it is in full bloom during this season of the year.

Our culture has done an emphatically good job at leaving the “no” stage far behind.  Technological advances have helped us come to the point where we do not have to say “no.”  We do not have to accept boundaries and limitations, or to pick and choose.  We do not want to “give up” anything or “lose” one thing.  “We want” it all, and we have come up with ingenious ways to make that dream a reality.

All this “no” and “yes” business (another way to say “me want” is “I just can’t say no to myself!”) got me to thinking about the power of each of these one word declarations. For instance, …
•    How can we say “No” to the powers and principalities of this world?
•    By saying “Yes” to the ultimate power and authority, God.
In fact, the necessary “no” cannot be invoked without the affirming “yes.”

Jesus said “no” to the Devil because he had already said “yes” to the Father. Jesus said “no” to the seductive words of the tempter because he said “yes” to the authority of Scripture.

  You say to your child, no, you cannot play in the street.  That necessary no is only possible because you, as a loving parent, have already said yes to your commitment to safeguard the health of your child.

You say no to drugs because you have said yes to clean living.

You say no to revenge because you have said yes to forgiveness.

You say no to temptation because you have said yes to self-control.

You say no to Satan because you have said yes to the Spirit.

You say no to racism because you have said yes to love.

You say no to oppression because you have said yes to justice.

You say no to crankiness because you have said yes to kindness.

When you say “yes” to God, that “yes” means you are also saying “no” to something else. Think and pray about this as you look at your commitment card this morning.  Commitment at its best means we are going to find ways to say yes to God with our time, talent and financial resources. 

So, how about a good old “yeah God!”

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A Wonderful Time for Wondering

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I wonder how much Jesus could see and know about the events surrounding His birth.  He was always ahead of His time.  In the second chapter of Luke, we find Mary and Joseph looking for Him, only to discover that He was in the temple at Jerusalem interacting with the teachers who “were amazed at His understanding and His answers (verse 47).”
   
I wonder if He understood the reason for the lack of privacy.  The guest room was apparently occupied, so Mary and Joseph had withdrawn to a stable at the back of or underneath the house, perhaps in a cave.  A feeding trough even served as a crib.  How simple and bare it must have all seemed.
   
I wonder if He realized that Luke’s later story of His birth would speak of this starkness.  Luke, recognizing the need for Christ to identify with the poor, lowly and marginal of the world, gave us a poignant perspective of those early hours.
   
I wonder if He heard the angel and the heavenly host announcing His arrival.  Mary and Joseph did not.  These two, busy with the chores of childbirth under the most difficult of circumstances, do not themselves experience heaven’s visit, but hear of it from, of all people, the shepherds. 
   
I wonder if He heard the angel announce His threefold title of “Savior, Christ, and Lord.”  Interestingly, Luke is the only gospel writer who offers the word “Savior” in his birth setting.  Maybe Luke the physician, more than all the others who would later follow Jesus, recognized what “saving” a life really meant.
   
I wonder if He heard the heavenly host singing of peace and salvation.  And could he imagine that this peace would be granted not only to persons, but also societies through a restoration of balance in all the forces of creation, which influence our lives.
   
And I wonder about those shepherds.  I wonder if Jesus thought about why the shepherds played such a crucial part in those preliminary plans.  Did He know that it was all part of God’s plan to tie Jesus to the shepherd king, David (II Samuel 7:8)?  Did He recognize that much like the poor, maimed, and blind, the shepherds belonged on Luke’s guest list for the kingdom?
   
I wonder if Jesus was aware of the fact that even though the stable was bare, the glory of God was everywhere.  For most of us, the problem of celebrating Christmas is not one of simplicity and barrenness, but rather complication and busyness. 

Yes, the glory of God is everywhere.  It just takes us a while to see it.  So, what I really wonder is, will we see it this year?

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Our True Value Comes Only After a Restoration!

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This week we begin our yearly journey to the Christ child of Christmas.  Our theme comes from the Psalms, which is new for me so it promises to be a fresh and challenging journey.

Today our focus is on Psalm 80 where the theme of restoration is clearly developed in verses 3, 7 and 19.  Notice the repetition and intensification:
Verse 3:  “Restore us, O God; let your face shine, that we may be saved.”
Verse 7:  “Restore us, O God of hosts.”

Verse 19:  “Restore us, O Lord God of hosts.”

Each “Restore us” is the imperative of a Hebrew verb meaning to turn or return.  Here the sense is a request that God “return us” or “bring us back” or “refresh us.”  The meaning of the psalmist is clearly that only God can restore Israel to what God originally fashioned Israel to be and only God can restore us as well.

If you have ever seen a God-shaped restoration or perhaps even been on the receiving end of one, then you know how incredible it can be.  While doing research for this series, I came across the true story of a long-neglected painting hanging in Venice’s San Salvador church. 

Identified as a Renaissance masterpiece by Vittore Carpaccio, the 16th century Italian painter, the dirt-encrusted Supper at Emmaus, depicting the resurrected Christ meeting two apostles in a country inn, was thought to be a poor copy of a 15th-century work.  Its discovery as a Carpaccio, worth an estimated $50 million, follows the restoration of the canvas by the Save Venice campaign.

It was initially passed over by Save Venice because it was too dreary, but a closer inspection of the work a few years ago by two top U.S. and Italian restorers convinced Save Venice to fund the project.  After the removal of three layers of over-painting what emerged was a sumptuously colored, finely detailed painting.  The date 1513 at the lower right, along with stylistic and historical clues, led to its identification to Carpaccio.

What can be said of paintings can also be said of human beings:  our true value comes out only after a restoration!  This year as you begin your journey to Bethlehem, pray this simple prayer, “Restore me, O God!”  Restore to each of us this year, O God, the hope of the ages, the peace of the heavens, the joy of our salvation and the love for a lifetime.

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Thoughts on My Way to Epidural Ecstasy

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*WARNING: I begin this writing with a warning label.  You are about to enter the philosophical and theological world of a man dazed by several weeks of lingering back pain, but determined to have something to say, so enter this essay ONLY at risk of thinking deep thoughts.  I just hope it does not bring you too much pain! 🙂

With time on my hands and a pain in my leg (that emanates from my back and sprays fireworks down to the top of my foot, stopping periodically at my knee for a conference call with the pain demon), I find myself drawn to an article I read several months ago.  I had stored it in my “writing ideas” folder and while waiting on a call from a doctor to tell me he would be glad to stick a few needles in my back and smile on the way to the bank, while I hopefully smile on my way to epidural ecstasy!

The article comes from David Brooks, a columnist for the New York Times and is entitled, “Moving Toward a Richer View of Human Nature.”  He says our failures as a nation spring from “reliance on an overly simplistic view of human nature” which makes us “divided creatures.”  Our division comes from the belief that reason is trustworthy, but emotions, are suspect, therefore our society progresses only to the extent that reason can suppress our passions.  In other words, we are good at discussing material things, but bad at talking about emotions!  Hmmmm!

Hoping to escape this “amputated view of human nature,” he references a group of researchers from neuroscience (you know, the folks who give epidural shots … still waiting for that call … see why I was drawn back to this article), psychology, sociology and behavioral economics.  This growing body of research offers key insights:
•    The unconscious parts of the mind are most of the mind, where many of the most impressive feats of thinking take place.
•    Emotion is not opposed to reason:  our emotions assign value to things and are the basis for reason.
•    We are not individuals who form relationships.  We are social animals, deeply connected with one another, who emerge out of relationships.

In simple-speak, what does all this mean?  For me, it confirms what I understand and experience living in this mind and body over a few decades.  Paul knew about “this treasure in earthen vessels” (II Corinthians 4:7), and warned us not to separate our minds from our hearts, our thinking from our doing, the intellectual from the spiritual.  

We are indeed “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14).  We are designed in and for relationship and Jesus could not have been more clear about ”how” we are to live in whole and healthy relationships:  “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.  This is the greatest and the first commandment.  The second is like it:  ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself’” (Matthew 22:37-39).

Brooks says this research identifies a range of deeper talents, which overcomes this amputated view of human nature that continually separates reason from emotion.  He lists 5 of these talents, but the one I find significant is what he calls “limerence.”   Hang with me now!

He says “the conscious mind hungers for money and success, but the unconscious mind hungers for those moments of transcendence when the skull line falls away and we are lost in love for another, the challenge of a task or the love of God.”  Finally, he offers the punch line of the whole essay:  “Some people seem to experience this drive more powerfully than others.”

Duh!  Honestly, haven’t followers of Christ been saying this for centuries?  To finish Paul’s previous thought, “But we have this treasure in earthen vessels (conscious mind), so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God (experience this drive more powerfully) and not from ourselves (unconscious mind).”

My point in all this intellectual wonderings … well, even the smart people ultimately come to the same, simple truth.  We are loved and long to love! 

By the way, I still haven’t heard from the shot doctor about my epidural ecstasy, but my heart, soul and mind are completely at peace!