Today is our anniversary. And I guess you could say, “what a way to spend it.” But I'm not saying that. Not just because to do so would be counter-productive or depressing, but because it's not accurate. We've been married nine years, have two wonderful boys and for all the sadness and difficulty of the past 18 months, it doesn't compare to the love and friendship we have. I suppose that sounds too good to be true, or trite, or denial of reality. Of course, I wish that we never had to deal with all this. But if you let it take away who you are and what the Lord has given you, you have something worse than cancer.
So, while there is not world enough and time, I have found that the Lord redeems the past. And when this is the past, there will be plenty of time to get back what has been put on hold. And more than that: Melissa and I have never needed a special day. Each day has been enough on its own to reinforce the love and joy in our hearts.
Believe it or not.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Monday, August 28, 2006
Melissa is still in the hospital. Doing a little better. She is still not able to take all her meds, but she is getting there. Keep lifting her up in prayer. I am not sure what else to say at this time. The docs are waiting for test results to see if this is from the brain radiation or if it is a sign of graft-versus-hsot disease, which sounds bad but is good-- it means the transplant will fight cancer cells. It is a long road and I think that is where Melissa is in all this: seeing that it is a long road.
Tekna-logy
Ruben, one of our pastoral staff, let me borrow a book, Jesus is My Uncle, a look at how language and culture interact with theology. It comes on the heels of a few conversations Ruben and I have had concerning multi-cultural ministry. We're fully aware that it's not supposed to work-- people like others just like them. For example, isn't it interesting that often the people who talk the most about diversity live, work, and worship in monocultural places? It's hard to let diversity be more than an idea. For example, in history, you will find nothing more diverse than Christian orthodoxy. Being hard-core and sold out to the Trinity and to the authority of the Scriptures is an incredible basis for entering into relationship with all peoples, nations, and races. But I digress.
This is a strange direction to take this, but I guess if you know me, it'll start to make sense. A friend of mine sent me this list:
If I had my child to raise all over again,
I'd build self-esteem first and the house later.
I'd finger paint more and point the finger less.
I would do less correcting and more connecting.
I'd take my eyes off my watch and watch with my eyes.
I would care to know less and know to care more.
I'd take more hikes and fly more kites.
I'd stop playing serious and seriously play.
I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars.
I'd do more hugging and less tugging.
I'd see the oak tree in the acorn more often.
I would be firm less often and affirm much more.
I'd model less about the love of power and more about the power of love.
It's really good advice, and hard to pull off! Morning is when you have to decide what kind of day you're going to have. I think especially with the boys, I have to make the decision that today will be good. What does this have to do with multicultural ministry? Glad you asked...
A few days ago, I did not make the decision to be calm enough to deal with the boys early in the morning. I made no decision, which, spiritually, is a decision. Things were going along fine until it was time to leave. It was the first day of school and Joseph looked at his new backpack and saw that he did not have a lunch bag. He balked at leaving and I told him we needed to go. He said, but where's my lunch? I said, “you'll eat at school, in the lunchroom.” He got a little more agitated. I said, “Come on! Let's go!” I started pushing him out the door. He said, “But I brought my ice-packs back, Daddy, and Mammaw said...” I cut him off and sent him to the car crying.
It took me until later that day to realize what had happened in his mind. At his daycare during the summer, he started taking his lunch the last two weeks he was there. He had ice packs in them, but forgot to bring them home, so he couldn't take his lunch until he brought them back. So when he saw his backpack ready for school but no lunch, he thought he was being punished when he had done right.
So while that was not the case, it was the case in Joe's mind. And not only did he not get to take a lunch (meaning being punished), he also got yelled at and hurried along. And on the first day of school no less!
At its heart, the situation was a misunderstanding between cultures. It's hard to see it that way, because we think of children as... people becoming adults. No doubt, that is true. But, at some point we have to recognize that children have a worth all their own, that they stand as independent beings who at each stage of their development need to be seen as people, people who have a right to their culture and language. It is our denial of the basic humanity of children that makes abortion possible. Short of that, they die a thousand deaths of cruelty, abuse, poverty, and neglect.
So, while we can on the one side say that Joseph needed to know that he was going to a new school where he would be eating in the lunchroom and not taking his lunch, I also needed to try to figure out why he was so adamant about having brought his ice packs back. The whole problem could have been solved by stepping back. Even if I could not have made the connection, I could have at least tried to handle it differently. But, I was on a time-table. My own, really. 5 minutes would not have made a bit of difference in my day.
But, see, we want what we want. I wanted Joe to hop-to, when I said. [Now, of course there are times when children have to learn to listen and obey]. This is the challenge for dealing with other cultures; we want what we want when we want it. We don't want to deal with another language, or accommodate ways of thinking that don't mesh with ours [and you have to know that I am not a relativist].
In my encounter with Joe, in all my encounters with the lovely, frustrating, funny, heartbreaking, and always entertaining and enlightening culture of my boys, I find this end at work: I am trying to learn to speak to them, to work with where they are. And yes, part of that is to help raise them, to usher them into “adult culture.” Which I wonder about-- do I want to be in adult culture?!?! But another part is to find a way to usher them into Kingdom Culture. It's a question of evangelism (you knew it had to come back to that!): am I winsome enough and open enough and (most important) motivated enough to cross the barriers that separate us from each other? To be united in Christ! Not as an idea, that we share the same values, or something, but that we are one in Him.
This is a strange direction to take this, but I guess if you know me, it'll start to make sense. A friend of mine sent me this list:
If I had my child to raise all over again,
I'd build self-esteem first and the house later.
I'd finger paint more and point the finger less.
I would do less correcting and more connecting.
I'd take my eyes off my watch and watch with my eyes.
I would care to know less and know to care more.
I'd take more hikes and fly more kites.
I'd stop playing serious and seriously play.
I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars.
I'd do more hugging and less tugging.
I'd see the oak tree in the acorn more often.
I would be firm less often and affirm much more.
I'd model less about the love of power and more about the power of love.
It's really good advice, and hard to pull off! Morning is when you have to decide what kind of day you're going to have. I think especially with the boys, I have to make the decision that today will be good. What does this have to do with multicultural ministry? Glad you asked...
A few days ago, I did not make the decision to be calm enough to deal with the boys early in the morning. I made no decision, which, spiritually, is a decision. Things were going along fine until it was time to leave. It was the first day of school and Joseph looked at his new backpack and saw that he did not have a lunch bag. He balked at leaving and I told him we needed to go. He said, but where's my lunch? I said, “you'll eat at school, in the lunchroom.” He got a little more agitated. I said, “Come on! Let's go!” I started pushing him out the door. He said, “But I brought my ice-packs back, Daddy, and Mammaw said...” I cut him off and sent him to the car crying.
It took me until later that day to realize what had happened in his mind. At his daycare during the summer, he started taking his lunch the last two weeks he was there. He had ice packs in them, but forgot to bring them home, so he couldn't take his lunch until he brought them back. So when he saw his backpack ready for school but no lunch, he thought he was being punished when he had done right.
So while that was not the case, it was the case in Joe's mind. And not only did he not get to take a lunch (meaning being punished), he also got yelled at and hurried along. And on the first day of school no less!
At its heart, the situation was a misunderstanding between cultures. It's hard to see it that way, because we think of children as... people becoming adults. No doubt, that is true. But, at some point we have to recognize that children have a worth all their own, that they stand as independent beings who at each stage of their development need to be seen as people, people who have a right to their culture and language. It is our denial of the basic humanity of children that makes abortion possible. Short of that, they die a thousand deaths of cruelty, abuse, poverty, and neglect.
So, while we can on the one side say that Joseph needed to know that he was going to a new school where he would be eating in the lunchroom and not taking his lunch, I also needed to try to figure out why he was so adamant about having brought his ice packs back. The whole problem could have been solved by stepping back. Even if I could not have made the connection, I could have at least tried to handle it differently. But, I was on a time-table. My own, really. 5 minutes would not have made a bit of difference in my day.
But, see, we want what we want. I wanted Joe to hop-to, when I said. [Now, of course there are times when children have to learn to listen and obey]. This is the challenge for dealing with other cultures; we want what we want when we want it. We don't want to deal with another language, or accommodate ways of thinking that don't mesh with ours [and you have to know that I am not a relativist].
In my encounter with Joe, in all my encounters with the lovely, frustrating, funny, heartbreaking, and always entertaining and enlightening culture of my boys, I find this end at work: I am trying to learn to speak to them, to work with where they are. And yes, part of that is to help raise them, to usher them into “adult culture.” Which I wonder about-- do I want to be in adult culture?!?! But another part is to find a way to usher them into Kingdom Culture. It's a question of evangelism (you knew it had to come back to that!): am I winsome enough and open enough and (most important) motivated enough to cross the barriers that separate us from each other? To be united in Christ! Not as an idea, that we share the same values, or something, but that we are one in Him.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
No Title, Which is a Title...
Melissa has been fighting a staph infection the past few days. She had a high fever, but no other symptoms and her labs looked normal. But then blood cultures showed something, most likely staph. So she is on a strong iv antibiotic.
Last night her fever broke, which is hopefully a good thing.
Staph infection sounds horrible, but there's many different kinds, and as she has not been admitted to the hospital, we're hoping it's minor and over with quickly. It's one of those OMDTs. But we had a good time in prayer, and you always find the truth with Jesus; so often we fool ourselves, or we say things that aren't true to make others (and ourselves!) feel better. But the Psalms especially are honest about the battle and the fear and the trials-- and about God and His mercies, His grace, His ministries.
When I came in from prayer meeting last night, the boys were in bed, sort of. They had a lamp on and had my Willie Nelson song book out. “Sing us a song out of this book.” So I sang “Yesterday's Wine,” my favorite Willie song. Then “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.” Then I went with some Bob Wills, “Still Waters,” “I Wonder if You Feel the Way I Do?” and ended with “Dusty Skies.” I could feel them fall asleep in my arms.
Last night her fever broke, which is hopefully a good thing.
Staph infection sounds horrible, but there's many different kinds, and as she has not been admitted to the hospital, we're hoping it's minor and over with quickly. It's one of those OMDTs. But we had a good time in prayer, and you always find the truth with Jesus; so often we fool ourselves, or we say things that aren't true to make others (and ourselves!) feel better. But the Psalms especially are honest about the battle and the fear and the trials-- and about God and His mercies, His grace, His ministries.
When I came in from prayer meeting last night, the boys were in bed, sort of. They had a lamp on and had my Willie Nelson song book out. “Sing us a song out of this book.” So I sang “Yesterday's Wine,” my favorite Willie song. Then “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.” Then I went with some Bob Wills, “Still Waters,” “I Wonder if You Feel the Way I Do?” and ended with “Dusty Skies.” I could feel them fall asleep in my arms.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Sweet Boys
A friend said to me yesterday something like, “the boys have Melissa's sunshine face, so it must be a real joy to walk into the house and see them.” Absolutely. Whoever comes home first, me or them, there is a big welcome. It's been that way since they were very small. It's pretty special.
Melissa went to the clinic Friday, and her platelets are holding steady, down a little bit, but not drastically. All the other levels are looking good. She has more energy. To wit: Friday afternoon, she and I went and got the boys' school supplies. This is for real-- John starts Kindergarten, so it felt different to get those kind of school supplies. I was so glad that Melissa was able to go with me and even walk thru Wal-Mart! I know it meant a lot to her, too.
Then yesterday, we took the boys to get their hair cuts. After that we went to let them get their back packs for school. Then we went to Barnes and Noble (a favorite hangout for the whole family). It was raining a little bit so I ran John and Joe up to the door, and Melissa was behind, walking a little more slowly. John reached out his arms, as if to say, “Come on, Mommy!” Then he ran out into the rain to get her. He waited at the edge of the sidewalk with his arms out. I guess words can't do justice to the sweetness of the picture.
Melissa went to the clinic Friday, and her platelets are holding steady, down a little bit, but not drastically. All the other levels are looking good. She has more energy. To wit: Friday afternoon, she and I went and got the boys' school supplies. This is for real-- John starts Kindergarten, so it felt different to get those kind of school supplies. I was so glad that Melissa was able to go with me and even walk thru Wal-Mart! I know it meant a lot to her, too.
Then yesterday, we took the boys to get their hair cuts. After that we went to let them get their back packs for school. Then we went to Barnes and Noble (a favorite hangout for the whole family). It was raining a little bit so I ran John and Joe up to the door, and Melissa was behind, walking a little more slowly. John reached out his arms, as if to say, “Come on, Mommy!” Then he ran out into the rain to get her. He waited at the edge of the sidewalk with his arms out. I guess words can't do justice to the sweetness of the picture.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Strange Praise
“You have now tasted the bitter brew that is a captain's life”
--Captain Sir Edward Pellew, HMS Indefatigable
I guess about 6 years ago I went to the VA Hospital to visit my best friend in seminary, David Crow. He was a retired Navy Officer. His cancer had returned, and it looked like it was probably going to get him. I went back to the parking lot after visiting with him and cried. I kept thinking, “Lord, I can't drink the cup.”
There was one last hurrah, Annual Conference. We ate some meals together, esp at Mark's BBQ (Conference was in Louisville) and we talked about the deep things: salvation, heaven on earth (we are Methodists, after all!), and the hard demands of the Gospel. David died the next February.
Melissa's uncle Jerry called me a few days ago. A fellow he works with has a granddaughter at UK Hospital, leukemia. The family did not know much about it yesterday. I went back today and Amanda, the mother, told me that the little girl, Brianna, has ALL, the same leukemia Melissa has.
I knew they were going to be pretty freaked out by the treatment regimen, so I took some time to encourage them, to let them know someone else knows the language. (And Polly, you should be proud of me. I think I did an ok job of explaining the mechanism of the disease in layman's terms. I know you don't agree, but I should have some kind of honorary degree after all this...)
Early on, when Melissa was diagnosed, she said that she hoped no matter what happened that she could have some hand in helping people come to faith and/or be comforted in their own struggle. I guess the liminal place I am is recognizing that we are in a war. And the sooner people figure that out, the better. And when they have figured it out, then we stick together and tough it out.
If you're lucky, a fellowship develops in the worst situations. I don't know why it's this way, that from Melissa's illness has come this moment of being able to say to a scared and sad mother, “You will get through this!” Some of you know I don't have a lot of patience for arguing about the problem of evil. While I appreciate the minds that can delve into it, in the end you want something you can take into the concentration camp, and modal logic ain't it. The answer to the problem of evil and suffering is the Cross.
I remember the most powerful sermon I have ever heard. Olav Parnemets talking about John 19, the Calvary Congregation, staying close to the cross of Jesus. From a man who had to fight the KGB. I keep learning what he means about staying close to the Cross. You know, the Cross should be more obvious to us than it is. Things can end badly. At least, you should know it is war. If it doesn't kill us, it'll surely break our hearts. In the battle of Belleau Wood, USMC Gunnery Sergeant Dan Daly yelled at his troops before they attacked, “What's the matter with you s.o.b.'s? Do you want to live forever?”
Take an ironic (irenic?) twist on those words: do you want to live forever?
Then lay down your life. Greater love hath no man but that he lay down his life for his friends.
--Captain Sir Edward Pellew, HMS Indefatigable
I guess about 6 years ago I went to the VA Hospital to visit my best friend in seminary, David Crow. He was a retired Navy Officer. His cancer had returned, and it looked like it was probably going to get him. I went back to the parking lot after visiting with him and cried. I kept thinking, “Lord, I can't drink the cup.”
There was one last hurrah, Annual Conference. We ate some meals together, esp at Mark's BBQ (Conference was in Louisville) and we talked about the deep things: salvation, heaven on earth (we are Methodists, after all!), and the hard demands of the Gospel. David died the next February.
Melissa's uncle Jerry called me a few days ago. A fellow he works with has a granddaughter at UK Hospital, leukemia. The family did not know much about it yesterday. I went back today and Amanda, the mother, told me that the little girl, Brianna, has ALL, the same leukemia Melissa has.
I knew they were going to be pretty freaked out by the treatment regimen, so I took some time to encourage them, to let them know someone else knows the language. (And Polly, you should be proud of me. I think I did an ok job of explaining the mechanism of the disease in layman's terms. I know you don't agree, but I should have some kind of honorary degree after all this...)
Early on, when Melissa was diagnosed, she said that she hoped no matter what happened that she could have some hand in helping people come to faith and/or be comforted in their own struggle. I guess the liminal place I am is recognizing that we are in a war. And the sooner people figure that out, the better. And when they have figured it out, then we stick together and tough it out.
If you're lucky, a fellowship develops in the worst situations. I don't know why it's this way, that from Melissa's illness has come this moment of being able to say to a scared and sad mother, “You will get through this!” Some of you know I don't have a lot of patience for arguing about the problem of evil. While I appreciate the minds that can delve into it, in the end you want something you can take into the concentration camp, and modal logic ain't it. The answer to the problem of evil and suffering is the Cross.
I remember the most powerful sermon I have ever heard. Olav Parnemets talking about John 19, the Calvary Congregation, staying close to the cross of Jesus. From a man who had to fight the KGB. I keep learning what he means about staying close to the Cross. You know, the Cross should be more obvious to us than it is. Things can end badly. At least, you should know it is war. If it doesn't kill us, it'll surely break our hearts. In the battle of Belleau Wood, USMC Gunnery Sergeant Dan Daly yelled at his troops before they attacked, “What's the matter with you s.o.b.'s? Do you want to live forever?”
Take an ironic (irenic?) twist on those words: do you want to live forever?
Then lay down your life. Greater love hath no man but that he lay down his life for his friends.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Sunday's Notes
Here's a totally random thought that has been bugging me. There is no animal that plays dead to trick a buzzard into coming close enough, and then the animal can eat the buzzard. I am sure a buzzard is just too nasty to eat, but then again, it's a big bird, more meat than most, and you'd think somehow, somewhere, some animal would be desperate enough to try this.
Melissa has been holding steady. Her platelet levels are holding at levels higher than they have been, so we are grateful. Not out of the woods; the docs say we're on a week-by-week schedule to see about taking out her spleen. Taking the spleen is probably the answer to the platelet issue. They might be inclined to let her platelets come up slowly, but they would really like to have a port in her brain to give the preventive chemo to her. The neurosurgeon won't put it in until the platelets are 100. So we have a ways to go. It would be wonderful if we could get her platelets up without having to take her spleen.
Me and the boys had a magic evening Saturday night. They had had a good time going to the Rock for a back-to-school bash for the neighborhood kids. We came home, they took a nap and then we swam, grilled hamburgers and played some sort of football/rugby game. It was a moment to live for-- a few hours where you let go of so many things holding you down.
Our evangelism team met again today. I have 15 people signed up to learn how to go out into the neighborhood and share faith. I am amazed that that many people are interested in such work. Anyway, as I tried to think about what we would need to get the work done, I realized we'd need a small group feel for the project. The work of evangelism takes a lot of hard work and patience, two things people in church generally don't do well. We think because it's church, and therefore spiritual, it needs to bring quick and gratifying rewards. Evangelism, however, has many pitfalls.
The idea of talking to total strangers, hoping that one day they won't be total strangers, scares most people. And then, when you realize that most people will reject you, it's discouraging. And when you have been faithfully visiting and sharing the gospel for 6 months and no one has even come to church, it gets to feel like you're not accomplishing anything. You're ready to teach 2nd grade Sunday school, or even go downtown to the soup kitchen—anything to get a quick fix of do-good.
“Evangelism fatigue,” we can call it. It hits anyone who pounds the pavement for the gospel.
But the incontrovertible fact is the best way to reach unchurched people is to visit in their homes. It's not by having events or advertising. You do those when you can't get any one to visit with you.
So I figured I need to get a group of people together to study, pray, and get to know each other. And mostly to get to the point where we could encourage each other when things are slow or difficult, and also to hold each other accountable to actually getting out and visiting people.
Well, we met today, and in only our second meeting, the things that need to happen started happening. We shared how we had come to faith, and we saw how many ways there are for people to come to believe in Christ, how many ways we have to be prepared to understand when we interact with people. And two people shared something about the difficulties in their lives that made them feel like they probably weren't cut out for faith-sharing. We were able to say to them that it is precisely the difficult places in our lives that make us the best witnesses. At some point as we get to know people, they will say to themselves, “If this fellow can go to church, so can I!” Or as people share with us the difficulties in their lives, they know that we can empathize with them.
It hit me as we were leaving that this is something like what Jesus must have been up to before he sent the 70 out on their evangelism mission. I can't emphasize enough that it it is one of the most difficult areas in church work. It's like planting an orchard or vineyard; it takes a lot of time and work to get to the fruit.
Melissa has been holding steady. Her platelet levels are holding at levels higher than they have been, so we are grateful. Not out of the woods; the docs say we're on a week-by-week schedule to see about taking out her spleen. Taking the spleen is probably the answer to the platelet issue. They might be inclined to let her platelets come up slowly, but they would really like to have a port in her brain to give the preventive chemo to her. The neurosurgeon won't put it in until the platelets are 100. So we have a ways to go. It would be wonderful if we could get her platelets up without having to take her spleen.
Me and the boys had a magic evening Saturday night. They had had a good time going to the Rock for a back-to-school bash for the neighborhood kids. We came home, they took a nap and then we swam, grilled hamburgers and played some sort of football/rugby game. It was a moment to live for-- a few hours where you let go of so many things holding you down.
Our evangelism team met again today. I have 15 people signed up to learn how to go out into the neighborhood and share faith. I am amazed that that many people are interested in such work. Anyway, as I tried to think about what we would need to get the work done, I realized we'd need a small group feel for the project. The work of evangelism takes a lot of hard work and patience, two things people in church generally don't do well. We think because it's church, and therefore spiritual, it needs to bring quick and gratifying rewards. Evangelism, however, has many pitfalls.
The idea of talking to total strangers, hoping that one day they won't be total strangers, scares most people. And then, when you realize that most people will reject you, it's discouraging. And when you have been faithfully visiting and sharing the gospel for 6 months and no one has even come to church, it gets to feel like you're not accomplishing anything. You're ready to teach 2nd grade Sunday school, or even go downtown to the soup kitchen—anything to get a quick fix of do-good.
“Evangelism fatigue,” we can call it. It hits anyone who pounds the pavement for the gospel.
But the incontrovertible fact is the best way to reach unchurched people is to visit in their homes. It's not by having events or advertising. You do those when you can't get any one to visit with you.
So I figured I need to get a group of people together to study, pray, and get to know each other. And mostly to get to the point where we could encourage each other when things are slow or difficult, and also to hold each other accountable to actually getting out and visiting people.
Well, we met today, and in only our second meeting, the things that need to happen started happening. We shared how we had come to faith, and we saw how many ways there are for people to come to believe in Christ, how many ways we have to be prepared to understand when we interact with people. And two people shared something about the difficulties in their lives that made them feel like they probably weren't cut out for faith-sharing. We were able to say to them that it is precisely the difficult places in our lives that make us the best witnesses. At some point as we get to know people, they will say to themselves, “If this fellow can go to church, so can I!” Or as people share with us the difficulties in their lives, they know that we can empathize with them.
It hit me as we were leaving that this is something like what Jesus must have been up to before he sent the 70 out on their evangelism mission. I can't emphasize enough that it it is one of the most difficult areas in church work. It's like planting an orchard or vineyard; it takes a lot of time and work to get to the fruit.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
When do I get my tattoo?
I had my first 911 call at the church. A fellow we have seen before came in and was really insistent about wanting help. But it was one of those cases where help would just enable him. He has to hit bottom, and the quicker he gets there the better for him. So I told him there wasn't anything we could do. He started getting agitated and blamed a fellow with me for getting in his business, telling bad stories about him, etc. I escorted him out and he was really torn up that a pastor was going to let him spend the night on the street. I tried to calm him down, but he was pretty upset, said he was going to kill the guy who had been with me. He lunged at the door and I held him back and told him he better go. He was a wiry fellow, and I would have had to pack a lunch to handle him. But since we can't have someone acting like that (even tho he is harmless), we called the police. Meanwhile, he started begging pretty hard in the parking lot from some folks who had left the service. I sent my muscle, two bodybuilders, Rosario and Walt, to keep an eye on things.
When things calmed down everyone was laughing and saying I finally got my first 911 call. I asked, when do I get my tattoo? We could each get a notch or something, and when we get 5 we could be “aces...”
A few nights ago, we were in the pool. I saw an Apache helicopter about ½ mile away, over HWY 60. We have those foam noodles that help you float and I got to waving one and so did John or Joe. I didn't think they'd see us or do anything, but after a minute or so of waving, the Apache turned to us and then did a steep dive. The boys loved it! God bless the troops.
Melissa is doing pretty good. After stomach flu and seizure, she's back to where she was, I think. Her platelets were 32 yesterday, and while we're not jumping up and down yet, it's good news. She is done with the radiation, has more energy. Let's keep praying that the transplant's anti-leukemic effect will take care of everything and we can be pronounced cancer-free and be done. It's a lot to ask, but when I think of the God of Israel that we know through and in Jesus Christ, it's not much, really.
Pray for the peace of Jerusalem.
When things calmed down everyone was laughing and saying I finally got my first 911 call. I asked, when do I get my tattoo? We could each get a notch or something, and when we get 5 we could be “aces...”
A few nights ago, we were in the pool. I saw an Apache helicopter about ½ mile away, over HWY 60. We have those foam noodles that help you float and I got to waving one and so did John or Joe. I didn't think they'd see us or do anything, but after a minute or so of waving, the Apache turned to us and then did a steep dive. The boys loved it! God bless the troops.
Melissa is doing pretty good. After stomach flu and seizure, she's back to where she was, I think. Her platelets were 32 yesterday, and while we're not jumping up and down yet, it's good news. She is done with the radiation, has more energy. Let's keep praying that the transplant's anti-leukemic effect will take care of everything and we can be pronounced cancer-free and be done. It's a lot to ask, but when I think of the God of Israel that we know through and in Jesus Christ, it's not much, really.
Pray for the peace of Jerusalem.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Birthday After
Joe had a really good birthday. It was a special day for him-- Waffle House, swimming, family, cake, presents. At one point, someone asked him why was he getting so many presents? He said, “Because everybody loves me.” True; he is surrounded by love.
Melissa was very tired; she had a long morning at the clinic and as soon as she got home, we ate lunch and opened presents. But, she seems to be ok and her platelets were at 29. Slowly but surely. But it's easy to get caught up in this or that piece of data. It can send a mood up or down. And we have to keep in mind we're always looking at more than platelets or magnesium levels. Healing. We're waiting for healing.
Joe slept with Melissa for a while last night. The boys came and piled in her bed and when I told them it was time to go down, Joe balked. “Mommy needs a bear to sleep with.” I call the boys “bears,” and what do you do when he says something so cute. So I told Melissa I would come get him when he fell asleep. John was pretty jealous. I told him we would take turns.
Well, I get up a little bit later to go get Joe. John says, “If Joe is crying, bring him down here. If he isn't crying, let him stay there.” John did a good job of making it a special day for Joseph. Joseph woke up this morning, and remembered a good day: “Thank you for my power rangers and my raptor.”
Melissa was very tired; she had a long morning at the clinic and as soon as she got home, we ate lunch and opened presents. But, she seems to be ok and her platelets were at 29. Slowly but surely. But it's easy to get caught up in this or that piece of data. It can send a mood up or down. And we have to keep in mind we're always looking at more than platelets or magnesium levels. Healing. We're waiting for healing.
Joe slept with Melissa for a while last night. The boys came and piled in her bed and when I told them it was time to go down, Joe balked. “Mommy needs a bear to sleep with.” I call the boys “bears,” and what do you do when he says something so cute. So I told Melissa I would come get him when he fell asleep. John was pretty jealous. I told him we would take turns.
Well, I get up a little bit later to go get Joe. John says, “If Joe is crying, bring him down here. If he isn't crying, let him stay there.” John did a good job of making it a special day for Joseph. Joseph woke up this morning, and remembered a good day: “Thank you for my power rangers and my raptor.”
Friday, August 04, 2006
Making Room
The boys don't make room, and I love them for that. When they sit next to you, they sit next to you. Or on you. At some point we grow up and we learn to make room. Maybe it's a good thing, but I'm not so sure. It seems vaguely tied up with isolation and making sure I keep what's mine.
Joseph's birthday is Saturday, and he is really pumped. The boys have had two birthdays while Melissa has been undergoing treatment. Like anything else you try to plan, there are pitfalls. How will she feel? Will there be some thing like going to the hospital to get in the way of the plans? More than anything, I want the boys to be able to stop and just be what we all want little kids to be: care-free.
I have been spending some time reading about Joseph, particularly in the New Testament. My fascination with him grew of course, because of our own Joseph. But also with an early church writer who said God chose Joseph to care for Jesus because He knew the devil was too vain to look in a humble place for the son of God! Matthew 1-3 is where you find Joseph. Go back and read it and be amazed by the man you've forgotten-- the one who heard from God quite a bit, took personal risks, and raised quite a boy. Tellingly for our age, Ignatius, an early church Father (early 2nd century) says that Joseph protected Jesus even in the womb, by still marrying Mary when she could have been stoned for being pregnant out of wedlock.
Joseph means "The Lord has added to" because He surely did increase our joy.
Melissa had a seizure yesterday in the clinic. A very difficult thing because she has not had one in 8 years, and not only did I obviously hope we could avoid it, we avoided when it seemed likely she would have one-- run-up to the transplant, changing her very successful anti-seizure med, etc. It revealed how much we're all on edge. We get generally good news about her progress. But a seizure crops up and my first thought was the radiation has fried her brain or the cancer has spread further in her brain and now they'll tell us, "Well, good fight, sorry about your luck."
The inevitable questions: why does she still have seizures? why didn't God stop it? why doe she have cancer? when will it be gone? will it be gone? Psalms are more important than ever right now.
Two years ago around this time, I was in California, and while there was scheduled to read Psalm 121-- so much to tell about that Psalm in that place! Today, I am scheduled to read Psalms 111-115. So I have stayed about on schedule; if you read 5 Psalms a day, you will get thru the book in 1 month, 12 times a year. If you can keep up this discipline consistently, it will do more than anything I know for your prayer life. It will increase your ability, desire, vocabulary, and (most important for our days) endurance for prayer.
Joseph's birthday is Saturday, and he is really pumped. The boys have had two birthdays while Melissa has been undergoing treatment. Like anything else you try to plan, there are pitfalls. How will she feel? Will there be some thing like going to the hospital to get in the way of the plans? More than anything, I want the boys to be able to stop and just be what we all want little kids to be: care-free.
I have been spending some time reading about Joseph, particularly in the New Testament. My fascination with him grew of course, because of our own Joseph. But also with an early church writer who said God chose Joseph to care for Jesus because He knew the devil was too vain to look in a humble place for the son of God! Matthew 1-3 is where you find Joseph. Go back and read it and be amazed by the man you've forgotten-- the one who heard from God quite a bit, took personal risks, and raised quite a boy. Tellingly for our age, Ignatius, an early church Father (early 2nd century) says that Joseph protected Jesus even in the womb, by still marrying Mary when she could have been stoned for being pregnant out of wedlock.
Joseph means "The Lord has added to" because He surely did increase our joy.
Melissa had a seizure yesterday in the clinic. A very difficult thing because she has not had one in 8 years, and not only did I obviously hope we could avoid it, we avoided when it seemed likely she would have one-- run-up to the transplant, changing her very successful anti-seizure med, etc. It revealed how much we're all on edge. We get generally good news about her progress. But a seizure crops up and my first thought was the radiation has fried her brain or the cancer has spread further in her brain and now they'll tell us, "Well, good fight, sorry about your luck."
The inevitable questions: why does she still have seizures? why didn't God stop it? why doe she have cancer? when will it be gone? will it be gone? Psalms are more important than ever right now.
Two years ago around this time, I was in California, and while there was scheduled to read Psalm 121-- so much to tell about that Psalm in that place! Today, I am scheduled to read Psalms 111-115. So I have stayed about on schedule; if you read 5 Psalms a day, you will get thru the book in 1 month, 12 times a year. If you can keep up this discipline consistently, it will do more than anything I know for your prayer life. It will increase your ability, desire, vocabulary, and (most important for our days) endurance for prayer.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Waffle House
Waffle House
The boys and I go to Waffle House on Saturday mornings. Big fun. Except because I am a smart aleck, I call the place Awful Waffle. And Joe hollers out, “where’s my awful waffle?!” Some of those waitresses look like they could take me. Man, I’d hate to fight my way out of a Waffle House. Give me a bar fight anyday.
Stanley Hauerwas says he thinks Christians should have to learn to do masonry work. He says they need to learn the hard work, vocabulary, traditions, and skill of a craft like masonry to get an accurate picture of discipleship. I see what he means. I’d say that learning to be a Waffle House cook would be just as good. I was watching the guy in there this Saturday. He was handling all kinds of orders. And every so often he would say to the apprentice cook, “See how I stacked those orders?” or “Don’t put the rings down yet.” The kid had to learn a vocabulary, a set of skills, how to do it when it was fast and furious. I was and am impressed.
What would it be like if discipleship was like that? If we had mentors who helped us learn the skills, language, tradition, and discipline it takes to be a Christian? See, we think it’s magic fairy dust. We say we are Christians, go to church and that’s it. I was lucky to have people who showed me how to pray, how to go to Scripture, how to visit the sick and imprisoned. At some point, I have to be humble enough to hear a mentor say, “I am going to teach you to be just like me.” That goes against the grain. We all want to find our own way, be individuals. But Jesus did not say, “go figure it out. Whatever works for you. It’s all good.” It’s more like, “I am the way, the truth and the life;” “whoever would be my disciple must take up his cross and follow me.” Did I learn to do it His way? Or do I want the freedom (read: self-indulgence) to find my owe have my own way? We glorify finding “my own way.” But there is only one way, and it is narrow. I am going to need help to navigate correctly. But am I humble enough?
Melissa is at the clinic today. As I wrote before, we are hoping for platelets in the 30s. We’re in this place where we don’t really know what to say to each other. There was this unspoken thing, unspoken til last night: “tell me we’re going to beat this.” “I hope it doesn’t come back.” Maybe that’s why we don’t know what to say, because what we have to say is difficult. I’m writing myself through a script I have played so many times—so many things to say to people that we don’t say because it would make us uncomfortable. But it’s honest. The funny thing is, avoidance doesn’t feel good.
The boys and I go to Waffle House on Saturday mornings. Big fun. Except because I am a smart aleck, I call the place Awful Waffle. And Joe hollers out, “where’s my awful waffle?!” Some of those waitresses look like they could take me. Man, I’d hate to fight my way out of a Waffle House. Give me a bar fight anyday.
Stanley Hauerwas says he thinks Christians should have to learn to do masonry work. He says they need to learn the hard work, vocabulary, traditions, and skill of a craft like masonry to get an accurate picture of discipleship. I see what he means. I’d say that learning to be a Waffle House cook would be just as good. I was watching the guy in there this Saturday. He was handling all kinds of orders. And every so often he would say to the apprentice cook, “See how I stacked those orders?” or “Don’t put the rings down yet.” The kid had to learn a vocabulary, a set of skills, how to do it when it was fast and furious. I was and am impressed.
What would it be like if discipleship was like that? If we had mentors who helped us learn the skills, language, tradition, and discipline it takes to be a Christian? See, we think it’s magic fairy dust. We say we are Christians, go to church and that’s it. I was lucky to have people who showed me how to pray, how to go to Scripture, how to visit the sick and imprisoned. At some point, I have to be humble enough to hear a mentor say, “I am going to teach you to be just like me.” That goes against the grain. We all want to find our own way, be individuals. But Jesus did not say, “go figure it out. Whatever works for you. It’s all good.” It’s more like, “I am the way, the truth and the life;” “whoever would be my disciple must take up his cross and follow me.” Did I learn to do it His way? Or do I want the freedom (read: self-indulgence) to find my owe have my own way? We glorify finding “my own way.” But there is only one way, and it is narrow. I am going to need help to navigate correctly. But am I humble enough?
Melissa is at the clinic today. As I wrote before, we are hoping for platelets in the 30s. We’re in this place where we don’t really know what to say to each other. There was this unspoken thing, unspoken til last night: “tell me we’re going to beat this.” “I hope it doesn’t come back.” Maybe that’s why we don’t know what to say, because what we have to say is difficult. I’m writing myself through a script I have played so many times—so many things to say to people that we don’t say because it would make us uncomfortable. But it’s honest. The funny thing is, avoidance doesn’t feel good.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Platelets, platelets, platelets
Melissa goes into the doctor tomorrow, for a clinic appt and radiation. Her platelets held steady and even inched up over last week. It would be a really great thing if they kept going up. we're praying they will be in the 30s!
She is home now, out of quarantine, and that is a good thing. It was good to see her again, really good. I kept thinking that it's not right that in all this there is more stuff to worry about. You want to catch a break.And sure, we have. But...
Today at the Rock/La Roca we had our evangelism meeting.Fifteen people have said they will be part of a group that learns about evangelism, prays, grows together for encouragement and accountability to visitation. Hopefully it becomes something that keeps growing. There was a fellow who came into the service hungry. We didn't have our pantry open, so we asked him to come to the meeting and at least eat a sandwich with us. He did and stayed. It was interesting. As we talked about the core of evangelism being breaking through in relationship to people who are isolated from each and God, he really resonated. On the way out, he asked for a Bible.
How just like God to break into an evangelism meeting with someone who wants something to eat...
She is home now, out of quarantine, and that is a good thing. It was good to see her again, really good. I kept thinking that it's not right that in all this there is more stuff to worry about. You want to catch a break.And sure, we have. But...
Today at the Rock/La Roca we had our evangelism meeting.Fifteen people have said they will be part of a group that learns about evangelism, prays, grows together for encouragement and accountability to visitation. Hopefully it becomes something that keeps growing. There was a fellow who came into the service hungry. We didn't have our pantry open, so we asked him to come to the meeting and at least eat a sandwich with us. He did and stayed. It was interesting. As we talked about the core of evangelism being breaking through in relationship to people who are isolated from each and God, he really resonated. On the way out, he asked for a Bible.
How just like God to break into an evangelism meeting with someone who wants something to eat...
Getting There
A promising sign is that Melissa seems to be getting back to normal. I am sure she doesn’t think so. Maybe it’s being off steroids, maybe it’s that things feel stable. Whatever the reason, she is more like herself. Feisty, coming up with all kinds of ideas.
The weird thing in recovering from something like this is that there is a border zone where you’re still down but getting better. It’s a hard place to be because you start to think of things you want to do but can’t do. Or you stop to pause for a minute to think of all you’ve been thru.
A friend from Christ Church sent her a quilt that is soo Melissa: it has squares with Scripture, mostly from Psalms. It’s beautiful and touching.
So many things come to mind about this ordeal. First, the prayer pager is a witness. We told a number of people about it, and they were touched and impressed. The neatest thing was one day when it went off and John said, “Mommy, someone is praying for you!”
We have been very fortunate so far; the odds were in favor of Melissa having already been readmitted to the hospital to fight an infection or some such. I guess we have taken that for granted, because now that she is “in quarantine” at her aunt’s because of the stomach virus, we’re all a little sad. The simple things become important in times like this—simple things like managing your time. So that when you anticipate a day that you can spend together and you don’t get it, resentment sets in. It has been a struggle not to feel sorry for ourselves, which seems so weird because there were worse things we gritted thru with not much thinking about it.
Today, her platelets were 21, another increase. Nowhere near out of the woods, but maybe it’s getting better. The only thing good I can say about having sick babies is that you wake up a lot and then you have time to pray.
One of the things I figured early on in all this was that it was going to make me reexamine things. I was going to have to come to grips with what is truly important. The sad fact of the matter is that I knew that you just generally float along from here to there, getting by day by day, pursuing some things, dropping others, having dreams that get laid by the way for no better reason than that they weren’t the order of the day for enough days in a row.
I knew also that I might become one of those frustrating people who was going to ask way too many questions and be impatient when nothing happens. I’d say that’s probably where I am. I hope where I am going is to a place that can be graceful but inflexible when it comes to the things that matter. Like I know!
People tell you to make a list of all the things you want to do in life. I guess that’s a useful exercise, but it can also make you feel bad. I have in my head that I need to have things like skydiving or going to Patagonia on my list. But they’re not on my list. In fact it’s not very dramatic at all. I don’t really have a list, other than to say that I hope things turn out well and I can be good to the people around me. I want a pop-up trailer where we can stop wherever we feel like it. Nowhere special to go. Maybe a canoe. I’d like a few acres to plant a few fruit trees, a place I can get to every month or so and just veg out. That’s it. At some point when things calm down I need an unspecified period of time on the California Central Coast so I can just stare at the water until I know it’s time to quit staring.
The weird thing in recovering from something like this is that there is a border zone where you’re still down but getting better. It’s a hard place to be because you start to think of things you want to do but can’t do. Or you stop to pause for a minute to think of all you’ve been thru.
A friend from Christ Church sent her a quilt that is soo Melissa: it has squares with Scripture, mostly from Psalms. It’s beautiful and touching.
So many things come to mind about this ordeal. First, the prayer pager is a witness. We told a number of people about it, and they were touched and impressed. The neatest thing was one day when it went off and John said, “Mommy, someone is praying for you!”
We have been very fortunate so far; the odds were in favor of Melissa having already been readmitted to the hospital to fight an infection or some such. I guess we have taken that for granted, because now that she is “in quarantine” at her aunt’s because of the stomach virus, we’re all a little sad. The simple things become important in times like this—simple things like managing your time. So that when you anticipate a day that you can spend together and you don’t get it, resentment sets in. It has been a struggle not to feel sorry for ourselves, which seems so weird because there were worse things we gritted thru with not much thinking about it.
Today, her platelets were 21, another increase. Nowhere near out of the woods, but maybe it’s getting better. The only thing good I can say about having sick babies is that you wake up a lot and then you have time to pray.
One of the things I figured early on in all this was that it was going to make me reexamine things. I was going to have to come to grips with what is truly important. The sad fact of the matter is that I knew that you just generally float along from here to there, getting by day by day, pursuing some things, dropping others, having dreams that get laid by the way for no better reason than that they weren’t the order of the day for enough days in a row.
I knew also that I might become one of those frustrating people who was going to ask way too many questions and be impatient when nothing happens. I’d say that’s probably where I am. I hope where I am going is to a place that can be graceful but inflexible when it comes to the things that matter. Like I know!
People tell you to make a list of all the things you want to do in life. I guess that’s a useful exercise, but it can also make you feel bad. I have in my head that I need to have things like skydiving or going to Patagonia on my list. But they’re not on my list. In fact it’s not very dramatic at all. I don’t really have a list, other than to say that I hope things turn out well and I can be good to the people around me. I want a pop-up trailer where we can stop wherever we feel like it. Nowhere special to go. Maybe a canoe. I’d like a few acres to plant a few fruit trees, a place I can get to every month or so and just veg out. That’s it. At some point when things calm down I need an unspecified period of time on the California Central Coast so I can just stare at the water until I know it’s time to quit staring.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Illness as Metaphor
Let's see. Melissa's platelets are still low, but steady. That is since Thursday of last week they have been 21, 17 and 19 when checked yesterday. She can't remember when she got platelets; it was somne day last week. So maybe things are holding.
The spots on the brain are shrinking fromt he radiation, so we are hopeful there.
Joseph came down with the stomach bug last night. If you recall, this has been the bane of our treatment process! Hopefully, Melissa got away soon enough (she is with her aunt) and she won't have to go back into the hospital. Is it possible that the rest of us can escape, too? Poor Joseph, he was miserable last night. But by this afternoon, he was more himself. So I suppose tonight we watch!
Pray that Melissa's platelets go up. There is some opining among the doctors that you can live with low platelets. Not that they want her to, but it may just be the way it is.
Thanks for all the prayer cover; it makes a difference. We feel it every day.
There is a ministry of undoing. A woman recently came into our community, needing to sober up, needing Jesus. I saw her sitting on the curb outside church one afternoon. As we talked a little bit, I had one of those insights you get from God about what was really happening to her. I just stopped what we were talking about and told her, "You don't have to believe what people told you about yourself when you were a girl. You don't ahve to believe what you tell yourself now." She just started bawling. I opened to one of the most powerful Scriptures, the account of God creating humans in Genesis. Before we are anything, I told her, we are created in the image of God. Before anything else, beyond anything else we are created in the image of God. "There it is in His Word. This is who you are. His child. So why do you listen to anyone, anything else?" We have to undo a lot of what has been done to people. And it is going to take a lot of people to do it. I may get to talk to a few people and share Jesus with them. There are many more who need to hear it.
It's a joy to be here. Sunday, a kid from Owensboro came to church. He was here looking for a treatment program. Had nowhere to sleep. So I put him up in one of our lovely accomodations on the Northside of town. He had to wait another day to find out about one treatment program. He was looking for another night in a room. He worked that day for tips at a car wash, so he paid for half the room and I picked up the other half.
We have a great relationship with the Lexington rescue Mission, a Christ-centered residential treatment program. But they were close to capacity. Could we get this motivated guy in? Sure enough, he got in. Finally, a chance to meet one of the deepest needs in our society: treatment for addiction.
Nothing makes you clean like getting mad when everyone is puking. I cleaned the heck out of the bathroom. I think a spider died from the fumes. I had the radio up, some hard rock blaring because there is no better mad-as-all-get-out cleaning music than hard rock. How do I know? Because my mom, the original, archetypal cleaning lady (her nickname is Ma Kelly, for those of you who like Johnny Dangerously) used to vacuum to the Scorpions. She'll deny it, but I came home from school one day, she had the vacuum running and I could still hear her over the top of it singing Rock You Like A Hurricane!
The spots on the brain are shrinking fromt he radiation, so we are hopeful there.
Joseph came down with the stomach bug last night. If you recall, this has been the bane of our treatment process! Hopefully, Melissa got away soon enough (she is with her aunt) and she won't have to go back into the hospital. Is it possible that the rest of us can escape, too? Poor Joseph, he was miserable last night. But by this afternoon, he was more himself. So I suppose tonight we watch!
Pray that Melissa's platelets go up. There is some opining among the doctors that you can live with low platelets. Not that they want her to, but it may just be the way it is.
Thanks for all the prayer cover; it makes a difference. We feel it every day.
There is a ministry of undoing. A woman recently came into our community, needing to sober up, needing Jesus. I saw her sitting on the curb outside church one afternoon. As we talked a little bit, I had one of those insights you get from God about what was really happening to her. I just stopped what we were talking about and told her, "You don't have to believe what people told you about yourself when you were a girl. You don't ahve to believe what you tell yourself now." She just started bawling. I opened to one of the most powerful Scriptures, the account of God creating humans in Genesis. Before we are anything, I told her, we are created in the image of God. Before anything else, beyond anything else we are created in the image of God. "There it is in His Word. This is who you are. His child. So why do you listen to anyone, anything else?" We have to undo a lot of what has been done to people. And it is going to take a lot of people to do it. I may get to talk to a few people and share Jesus with them. There are many more who need to hear it.
It's a joy to be here. Sunday, a kid from Owensboro came to church. He was here looking for a treatment program. Had nowhere to sleep. So I put him up in one of our lovely accomodations on the Northside of town. He had to wait another day to find out about one treatment program. He was looking for another night in a room. He worked that day for tips at a car wash, so he paid for half the room and I picked up the other half.
We have a great relationship with the Lexington rescue Mission, a Christ-centered residential treatment program. But they were close to capacity. Could we get this motivated guy in? Sure enough, he got in. Finally, a chance to meet one of the deepest needs in our society: treatment for addiction.
Nothing makes you clean like getting mad when everyone is puking. I cleaned the heck out of the bathroom. I think a spider died from the fumes. I had the radio up, some hard rock blaring because there is no better mad-as-all-get-out cleaning music than hard rock. How do I know? Because my mom, the original, archetypal cleaning lady (her nickname is Ma Kelly, for those of you who like Johnny Dangerously) used to vacuum to the Scorpions. She'll deny it, but I came home from school one day, she had the vacuum running and I could still hear her over the top of it singing Rock You Like A Hurricane!
Sunday, July 23, 2006
One of the great joys in life is reading aloud and listening to something being read aloud. One of the sublime joys in life is reading Paradise Lost aloud. Better yet, having James Sims read it to you. I was privileged to be in three classes where we studies Paradise Lost with Dr. Sims, one of the world’s foremost
If you have kids, maybe even in spite of the fact that you have Good Night Moon memorized, you know how important reading aloud is. Joe, for example, cannot read, but he can take a long story like Arnold Lobel’s “Small Pig” and repeat it to you almost word for word. In some way, memorization is more important than being able to read. He has learned the story without having to resort to reading it again. All that is required is that it be told every so often.
There is great meaning in this for the disciple. We are part of Jesus’ story. It does us good to not just know where to find such and such passage of Scripture, but to know it the way Joe knows Small Pig. More than that: there was a time when reading aloud was the most common way reading was done. Even if you were by yourself, you read the words aloud.
I think one of the things that shows the fellowship function of reading aloud is found in John 11. (as an aside, I would argue that even the great writers of today need to be read aloud. Maybe skill with writing a word to be spoken is a dying art, but reading Cannery Row last month, I realized that even that was meant to be read aloud to a group.) In John 11, Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. But when John mentions Lazarus, he mentions that he is the brother of Mary and Martha, and glosses that by saying that Mary is the same Mary who anointed Jesus with oil. But, that scene happens in chapter 12. Why does John tell us that in chapter 11? I like to think that it’s because he was telling the story of Jesus and when he mentioned Mary and Martha, someone interrupted and wanted to know if it was the same Mary who… Maybe a child who fixates on a character or event is the one who breaks into the story and wants to know. And so John says, by way of deflecting the interruption, “Yes this is the same Mary who…”
Hearing the Word read aloud lets us know who we are in a very powerful way. It’s one thing for us to independently know the same stories and come together. How much better, tho, to learn them and hear them repeatedly together? The Spirit moves us in different ways at different times.
A year or so ago at Melissa’s grandparents’ house, John was having a hard time. He was upset and frustrated about something. I took him aside and we ate our lunch together. We were sitting on the ground and I told him how in Jesus’ day people sat back to back so they could sit up when they were on the floor. You were the other person’s chair-back, as it were. I told John a bit about the Last Supper, and how Jesus was reclining at the table, and John was backed up to Him. I showed him the closeness of how they could talk by turning and laying back their heads. Two things, ok maybe more, came from that. First, John calmed down and had a good time. Second, he heard an important part of the story. He thinks depictions of the Last Supper with them in chairs has missed the point! And when we come to the story, he finds himself in it somehow.
There’s a way to live it that I think is going to require us to get together and hear the Word more than we do. And not to do the whole Quaker thing where we sit around tell what it means to us. But rather, we hear the Word, and let it form us. Otherwise, we’re still going to be doing our own thing and trying to call it “together” all the while wondering why we’re not together.
Friday, July 21, 2006
The Little Seminary
Melissa’s platelets held steady for two days. That’s a good sign, but they’re not very high, and they tend to drop after a few days. I think the docs like her so well they are doing anything they can to avoid taking the spleen out. She is off steroids and has more energy. She is more herself.
I took the boys in with me to work today. I had missed Wednesday with Joe being sick (and me, swimmer’s ear. Ye gads. I told Melissa I have never had it before. She said, “You’ve never been old before.”) Friday is normally my day off, but I had some stuff I did not get to.
I went out visiting with the boys, especially going to families with children, inviting them to our Family Fun Night—sheet draped on the side of the church so we can show a movie, hotdogs, popcorn, carnival games, blankets on the lawn, a great time of people getting together.
John and Joe each took a turn hading out fliers. Joseph talked to an older man who got the biggest kick out of him. “We are the Rock La Locust. (then some unintelligible words) movie tonight, popcorn (more jabber) hotdogs.”
I was reminded how good it is to walk at their pace. I sometimes get to moving too fast, blown away by how close the houses are and how many places I can go, rather than taking it in, and being ready to share the joy of hot dogs or Jesus.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
The Rock Keeps Rolling
Melissa came to church Sunday for the 11:15 service. It was really something.
At the beginning of the service, I get to sit with the congregation. So I was back there with Sissy, my mother-in-law, John, Joseph, and our friend Steve McKinney. At one point, I had my arms raised in prayer. Well, one arm. With the other hand I was holding John. He took my arm and raised it up. Immediately, I thought of one of my favorite Bible stories, in Exodus 17, where Joshua and the Israelites defeat the Amalekites. They are winning as long as Moses can hold his arms up in prayer. They start losing when he gets tired and can’t hold his arms up. So Aaron and Hur stand next to him and holdup his arms. I told John that story later, and he wanted to re-enact it. So I stood there and told him what happened, he held my arms and cheered, “We won! We won!” Then he gave me a high five. Now, what an interesting window on that story and prayer. Prayer can be life-and-death desperate. But get ready—and know how!—to rejoice!
p/g,
Aaron
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Life on the Rock
Sunday evening, I preached in the Hispanic service. Before I went into the service, I read something I often read, the last line of Ralph Ellison’s novel, Invisible Man: “who knows but that, on the lower frequencies, I speak for you.” Invisible Man is a powerful novel about being black in a deeply segregated time in
When I got home Melissa told me this about Joseph. I had dropped the boys off and went back to the Hispanic service. After a while, Joseph asked where I was. Melissa said, “Daddy went to work.” Joseph was insistent that I did not and asked where I was. He knows that preaching isn’t work! She told him again that I went to work. Joseph said, “no, he has gone to preach to the invisible people.”
He senses, even at his age, even at The Rock La Roca, that there is some separation. It’s natural, some of it. There are language barriers. Cultural barriers. But we are dedicated to helping them come down.
The Rock/La Roca is a place that will always need money. We have good attendance, but so many of the people have limited economic means. So we’re not the usual church with 300 people on Sundays. But I have a mantra; if you do the right thing, the money and the people show up.
We had proof of that a few weeks ago. We were in a meeting where we were discussing where to come up with the $3600 needed to send some of our kids on a mission trip. In came a group from a church in
Melissa had a long day yesterday. We had an early appt at the bone marrow transplant clinic, and then a later one with the radiologist. At the radiologist’s we learned that she will get two weeks of focused radiation to the spots on the brain. There are two spots, one shrunk the other probably gone, but the doc doesn’t want to take any chances.
The radiation treatments are short, about 30seconds or something. The issues we’re dealing with there are that she has already had brain radiation twice, and there is concern about long-term effects on the brain. Hopefully that won’t be a problem.
Her platelets—hard to tell. She is able to go 4-5 days and hold steady, then they start falling. Dr. Herzig says maybe she is making them and keeping them, so he is willing to let the numbers dip more than usual, and see if they hold. We are optimistic they will hold and increase.
She received a dose of chemo to the brain thru the spinal fluid, which involved a lumbar puncture. That’s no fun, and she was sore for a few days. Until they can put in the brain port (once the platelets get up) she will have monthly lumbar punctures to inject the chemo.
The way she puts it, the hardest thing is it seems like it’s always something else. When does it end? A few nights ago, she couldn’t sleep and so she read from a devotional. The title of the reading was something like Patience During Trials. She read a number of Scriptures, and strangely enough was encouraged. I say strangely enough because I am constantly surprised by the Bible’s openness to suffering, its honesty in addressing it and its spiritual results. And then, when the Bible says to joyfully accept trials, I am always surprised how comforting that is.
I suspect that Melissa would tell you that the benefit, the result of all this has been a deeper trust in Christ, a surer sense of His presence. And who doesn’t want that?
The difficulty comes when we start to neglect the Cross. While Melissa was on the transplant unit, I would go pray at St. Martin of Tours Catholic Church. St. Martin was a very popular saint in the part of
The church downtown is amazing. It is a very alive congregation. Their sign says, :Our doors never close.” There’s something about that, always having a place to pray, even at three in the morning. I took it as a good sign that it was a church dedicated to St. Martin, for I suppose that of the
St.Martin’s is just a great place to pray. There is a statue of Mary holding the dead body of Jesus. It is done so skillfully that when you kneel in front of it, your hand can slip right into His. And if you look up, you are at eye-level with the wound in His side. And if you look to Heaven, you stare into Mary’s sad eyes. A very powerful place indeed.
Catholic Churches also have a Stations of the Cross. These are paintings or sculptures that depict aspects of the Passion. Now, not all of them are in Scripture. But the point is to allow yourself to meditate on His suffering. Over a few days, I would go and pray at each station, asking “Why?” Why the Cross, indeed.
It is a strange symbol. It’s one you have not thought about much, because if you had, you would not have adopted it so easily. I dare say, you would feel uncomfortable with it in your life, much less your church.
It is a symbol of brutality. Of shame. Degradation. Humiliation. An inexorable grinding away of life. And yet, we Christians believe that it is life. Or at least we should. It is an honest assessment of our lives. How so?
We will all die.
Many will die painfully.
Some will be killed.
In each of us there is enough Hell to crucify someone.
And because, to varying degrees, we lead dark and twisted lives, the Cross is a dark and twisted thing. If Jesus were going to take on our form, our infirmities, what did we expect? A well-dressed fellow with a jaunty hat? While there is so much joy in Jesus—His words and His life—just like our lives, darkness and pain had their day.
Here are two websites that have some renderings of the stations of the Cross.
http://frpat.com/stations/stat01.htm children’s illustrations
http://www.christusrex.org/www1/jvc/TVCmain.html I think these are Dore’s artwork.
So, as I stood before each station of the Cross, I would ask why.
I don’t say that I have THE answers. Maybe some. Maybe partial answers. But I would like to share the fruit of this meditation. So, as you come to each station, think about the image, the action. Meditate on the Passion of our Lord.
First Station. Jesus is condemned to die. Why?
--Because we are
Second Station. Jesus is laden with the Cross. Why?
--Because there is no heavier burden; He knows our sorrows
Third Station. Jesus falls the first time. Why?
(For meditation on the three times Jesus falls, I am indebted to Heidi Klein, a friend from
--Because the burden is heavy.
Fourth Station. Jesus meets His afflicted mother. Why?
--Because our suffering pains our loved ones.
Fifth Station. The Cyrenian helps Jesus with the Cross. Why?
---Because help comes from unexpected places.
Sixth Station. Veronica wipes the face of Jesus. Why?
--Because suffering opens up paths for mercy.
Seventh Station. Jesus falls the second time. Why?
--The burden IS heavy.
Eighth Station. Jesus speaks to the women of
--Because we must be warned of the real nature of life.
Ninth Station. Jesus falls the third time. Why?
--Because we wonder how will we ever get up?
Tenth Station. Jesus is stripped of His garments. Why?
--Because humiliation is the devil’s joy.
Eleventh Station. Jesus is nailed to the Cross. Why?
--Because suffering will be complete.
Twelfth Station. Jesus dies on the Cross. Why?
--Because death is the way of the world.
Thirteenth Station. Jesus is taken down from the Cross. Why?
--Because in death He seems to no longer be a threat to the powers that be.
Fourteenth Station. Jesus is laid in the tomb. Why?
--Because we think death is the end. (here Melissa had an editorial comment: “Ha!”
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Howdy
Hey folks. I am trying to enter the 21st century. This is the place I will be posting about Melissa, the boys, and the ministry. It will take the place of my emails, I think.
Aaron
Aaron
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