HE WAS GAY... AND I LOVED HIM

My brothers and I grew up in the 50s and 60s in Des Moines, Iowa. We lived in a suburban neighborhood that was filled with 3 bedroom ranches,.  and we attended the best schools that Des Moines had to offer at the time. Randy was my little brother, Larry was my middle brother, and I was the oldest. Larry and I shared a love for baseball. Randy and I shared a love for alcohol, and all three of us shared a secret- we were tied up in knots because we lived in a violent home. 

Sometimes, when the screaming gave way to violence, Randy would run across the hall from the room that he and Larry shared to my room. He would climb into bed with me and I would hug him, hoping to be something of a sanctuary for my vulnerable little brother. Eventually of course, we all grew up, married and had our own families. Larry married Anne and they had three wonderful children. I married Sherry and we had two lovely girls. Randy married Linda and they had two great boys. We all built successful careers in grocery business, and then, out of the blue, the day came when we received a phone call from the South Bend area. Randy was in trouble.

He had left his family, believing himself to be gay, and he needed treatment for alcoholism. Surely it was a mistake! I could understand the alcoholism- I have it myself- but no one in our family had ever been gay. Indeed, the Shedenhelms are nothing if not manly. I was hoping, I think, that Randy would discover that he was straight during treatment. He would see that, while he may have been "kinky," he was NOT gay, and seeing this, he would return to his family and live out a normal life. Well, I was wrong. Randy never drank again in his life, but he left the treatment center convinced that he was gay, and that he had been gay for years. He never said much to me about his lifestyle (and I don't think he said much to Larry), but he expressed his struggles and his joys in being gay rather freely with Sherry and Anne.

The years went by, and after a flurry of sexual activity in the Omaha area, Randy settled into more stable relationships and began to rebuild his career. He had a few partners, earned a few promotions, and eventually ended up in Georgia, where he was diagnosed with AIDS. These were pre-concoction years and AIDS was a death sentence. Randy visited Sherry and me in Joliet, where I was pastoring at the time, and I can remember walking around our church sanctuary with him. He asked, "Will you do my funeral service?" and I told him I would. "Are you afraid to die?" I asked, and he said "no."  Then he became weaker and weaker and eventually ended up on hospice. Sherry and I visited as frequently as we could, and to get away from the house, Randy's son, Aaron, and I would walk down the street and play tennis for an hour or two. Randy was witty and full of life. He was always playful, but he died quietly and gently, with grace. He was blessed to have his partner with him and to have hospice on his side (they showed him more love than the church even considered showing him). He was, in the end, every bit as vulnerable as he had been when he ran into my room for comfort so many years before. But I could do nothing but cry.

I cried and asked myself, "Why?" Why wasn't he satisfied to just be straight? He had a sex life with his wife- that was evident- and if it wasn't the greatest, so what? Why didn't he just tough it out? Why was he so selfish? Why did he hurt so many people? And why was he so reckless? Why" Why" Why? Why did you die, baby brother? When he was coming down with AIDS, Randy joined Larry and I at a driving range in Dallas. Randy was in town for his nephew's wedding, and the three of us got away for an hour. Larry was always the best golfer in our family, but Randy wasn't bad, and there he was, hitting grounder after grounder.  Nothing went more than 50 yards. It broke my heart then and it still does.

I loved Randy as I loved Larry (who is now gone too), but I never considered him a "hero" for being honest about who he was. In fact, I wish he had been honest earlier. Nor do I consider Jason Collins a "hero" for being transparently honest. In an age where words like "hero," are being tossed around indiscriminately, I wish we wouldn't call people heroes for simply telling the truth... BUT I would call both of them courageous because the price one pays for being "different" can be extremely high.
Just a few hours ago I saw a tweet that read, "Tim Tebow says 'I'm Christian' and the media says, 'Keep it to yourself.' Jason Collins says 'I'm gay," and the media says, 'The man's a hero.'" What do you make of this? There does seem to be a  bias or bias in play. However, if Tebow had said, "I'm Christian" in the 2nd century, or even today in many parts of the world, I'd have to give him an "A" for admirable courage.  If he or anyone of us would say "I'm Christian," in a time when saying it would have disrupted their families, destroyed their friendships, affected their livelihoods, or threatened their lives, I would applaud that person's courage and rejoice in their liberation. In short, I don't think that the word "hero" applies, but the struggle for liberation and authenticity sure takes courage.

My little brother was not a hero, but he was entitled to live life authentically, fully, as himself, in the light of day. I haven't thought about how much I loved Randy for some time now. But I did. I loved him deeply and I would give anything if I could hug him today!  Amen.,

Patriotism... or Jingoism?

Like many other men, I am a sports fan(atic), I don't sit and watch many games anymore, but when we lived in Omaha I doted on the Big Red. I followed them religiously and their performance on the field really did affect me emotionally. Years before I fell in love with the Cornhuskers, I experienced the same emotional highs and lows from the Iowa Hawkeyes. I would sit in our recreation room by myself and listen to Jim Zabel's call, as Don Nelson made a key basket or Alex Karras sacked an opposing quarterback. I loved the Hawkeyes, but I also loved the Milwaukee Braves and I can still recall the joy I felt when I saw Henry Aaron and Eddie Mathews play in the old County Stadium. Sports has played a big part in my life, although I didn't have much talent myself, and I've never quit watching highlights and checking stats.

In any event, because my love for sports still calls to me, I find myself listening to Sports Talk radio from time to time. I know that I am well beyond their targeted age group and sometimes I cringe at the shallowness of the dialogue and commentary. Sometimes I wonder why I am listening to nearly mindless chatter, but for the most part I like it (and even get caught up in it). However, as I was listening to one of my regular shows last week, a listener called in and said that he (virtually all sports talk listeners are testosterone bound) was really pleased to see more emphasis on our national anthem at ballgames now. He wondered if the anthem itself would be telecast more frequently, in light of Newtown and Boston, and noted that he had been a marine. I waited for one of the talk show hosts to speak, and finally the younger one did. He said that the singing of our national anthem was "jingoism," of the highest order, and that as far as he was concerned, our anthem should not be included in sports venues at all. Now, as a reformed liberal, I will confess that there is a part of me that resists orchestrated patriotism. But when I think of those who've given their lives for our nation, I find it hard to believe that standing together, in gratitude, is somehow "over the top." According to Wikipedia, jingoism is "excessive bias in believing that one's own country is superior to others." Jingoism is an "extreme type" of nationalism, Wikipedia goes on to say, and we all understand "extremism." There are all sorts of extreme behaviors and many of them can be traced to someone's misguided faith or crazy view of things. Blowing up a Federal Building because you don't like what's going on in Washington, DC, is extreme. Blowing up an 8 year old boy because you don't agree with our war in Afghanistan... is extreme. Sending poisoned letters to elected officials, instead of protesting with a sign... is definitely extreme!

But standing as a people and acknowledging our principles and our heroes for a moment or two, even if someone else asked you to do it, is hardly extreme. Nor is it indicative of "excessive bias" for our side against those who would do us harm. If  my father was still alive, he would be pleased with my drift toward "the right" in recent years. The talk show host I listened to is an articulate man- who else would use the word "jingoism" on a sports talk show- and I know that there are very real dangers with orchestrated behavior and group mentality... but patriotic songs and symbols are deeply cherished and they are forever connected to the men and women who died so that we can sing them, or hold them, or touch them, or call them "jingoistic." Indeed, I've become so hopelessly old-fashioned these days that, sometimes, when our anthem is sung, I am forced to fight off a tear or two.
Maybe I've become drunk on my country's wine. Maybe I am just a fool for slogans and gimmicks. Maybe I've finally seen the light. You decide,

RESPONSIBLE GRACE AND OTHER OXYMORONS

 Act naturally. Deafening silence. Pretty ugly. Only choice.  Accurate estimate. Congressional oversight. Grape Nuts. Common sense. Rice milk.  Student athlete, Jumbo shrimp. Minor miracle,  Objective opinion, Social security... and Responsible Grace. Oxymorons one and all, but it is the last one- Responsible Grace- that has been bothering me of late.

Responsible grace. Someone told me recently that "Responsible Grace," is sound Christian doctrine, but I wonder if it's not actually more of an oxymoron. Grace, as I've understood it, is unmerited favor, like the taste of Country Style Ice Cream or a loved one's smile. When our grandson, Archer visits us from Brooklyn, NY,  he breaks into a run as soon as he sees us.  He runs with joy, seeing only us in a sea of faces, and his joy brings tears to my eyes. It is grace and I did nothing to deserve it! Grace, to me, is unearned forgiveness, which is really all forgiveness, and grace is unmerited love, which is really all love, because things like forgiveness, grace, love and second-chances can only come as gifts. If "responsible grace" means offering grace only to those who deserve it, I want no part of it, and if it means that grace ought to  be reserved for those who have done their part, I would never have received it. 
 

You  remember the parable of the loving father, whose prodigal son squanders a considerable amount of his family's money on wine, women and song, and then comes home when everything runs out on him. Well, as you know, the prodigal's older brother knows that his brother doesn't deserve grace and he simply won't  have any part of it, even though his father pleads with him. Fortunately, his father's joy cannot be complete without unfettered grace, but many of us are more like the older brother! I read a story about an old man whose diligent daughter took.care of him while her brother disappeared for months at a time. She visited her father frequently, met his every need, and agreed to sing a special song at his funeral service. Finally, that day came, and as she was taking care of things at the front of the parlor, her wayward brother entered the funeral home from the rear. Immediately everyone made a "big deal" over his arrival. "Hi Jack! How's it going, Jack! Nice to see you, Jack." The older sister seethed. How dare her brother barge in now. She and her father had not seen him for months. Then it struck  her- the song that she had been asked to sing for her father... was a song to Jack. It was her father's way of saying, "Son I love you. Welcome back!." Her song, as it turned out, was her brother's song, and she vowed immediately that no power on earth would get her to sing it.. And she didn't. She didn't sing the song and a moment of reconciliation slipped away. If not singing our love songs is "responsible grace," you can have it because it's not for me.

Giving grace on our own terms makes a mockery of the word, but I admit that grace CAN BE abused and even manipulated.  In Yancy's book, What's So Amazing About Grace, he tells of a man who matter-of-factly told him that he was going to leave his wife for a younger woman, knowing that God would forgive him when he did.  Likewise, I recently had a church member ask me for a $100 so that he could show his girlfriend a "better time." Now, this same man sends money to internet girlfriends and still seeks money from the church, and what is more- he always will.. We like to think that people in need are ordinary people who are just momentarily down on their luck, and that once we give them a helping hand, they will get a job, give up their sins, and become contributing members of society. But chances are, they won't. The unemployed person who needs $500 for rent this month will need $500 for rent next month, and the same needy individual who seems "out of control" this month will surely be "out of control" next month. What is to become of these people, and what are  we to do with them. Does responsible grace say "no," if they don't "shape up and fly right?" 

I am little more than a forgiven sinner, and knowing myself to be forgiven, I live for God everyday now,. I live to please my Lord, but I never think about being responsible or irresponsible, for that matter. I simply do what love demands, and now we have uncovered the anecdote for cheap grace, and that anecdote is love! Responsible grace, whatever it is, isn't necessary at all if we love the One who gave us a second chance and a new name. I read a story about a man who tried to rescue a scorpion that was caught up in some twigs along a river bank. He reached ever so slowly from above, and the scorpion stung him. So, he made a faster move from the other side, and...the scorpion stung him again, and again and again. Finally, another fellow along the shoreline shouted, "Mister, let it go. That scorpion will sting you every time." "Yes," the would-be savior replied. "I know. It is the scorpion's nature to sting, but it is my nature to save!"  It seems to me that God gave His life for me, not really knowing if I would be responsible or not, because grace is God's nature.

At this point in my life as a pastor, I've heard every excuse there is for needing money. I know that some people "work the system" by going from church to church with the same story, and I realize that most of the people who "took advantage" of our grace when I was in Peoria 15 years ago are still doing so today! I know all of this, BUT I cannot embrace a thing called "Responsible Grace." It is an oxymoron to me.  It is too man-made, too narrow,, and too Pharisaic. Grace that is not given.... freely, radically, and maybe even dangerously, is not grace at all.  Sherry and I have two daughters, two granddaughters, and two grandsons (okay, Donald is our great-grandson) and we love them all unconditionally. No matter what they do or do not do, no matter how often they do it, if they run off and come back a hundred times, seeking the same help with the very same needs, I pray that I will always run to meet them. 

I said some of this to a civic group today at noon, and after my speech, an elderly woman told me that I had touched her heart with the little story about the woman who wouldn't sing for her brother. She said that, when he father was dying, he told her to give her brother his full share of his inheritance. She remembered saying, "Daddy, it won't last a week. You know that Randy will spend it foolishly." She says that her sister agreed with her, but their daddy insisted that they give Randy his full share.  They did as they were asked, and the woman said that it took her many, many years to see what her daddy meant. Now 82, and with tears in her eyes, she told me that she understands why her daddy gave his son his full share, irresponsibly and without conditions. Amen

Awkward In-Between Time

In the church world, some of us are fond of talking about chronos time and chairos time. Chronos time is "ordinary time," as if there could be such a thing.  Words like "chronology" capture the passing of ordinary time, but chairos moments are bigger than the passing of time. Indeed, they define time.  I can still remember attending our oldest daughter's college graduation.  She had been a single mother for some time by then, but she kept her feet moving and she never gave up on her dream.  She kept on going and when she stood in front of us in cap and gown, it was more than the passing of time for me.  Likewise, although I traveled a lot when our girls were growing up, I did attend our youngest daughter's soccer games when I could.  I loved to cheer her on, and I was there when she scored the one and only goal of her limited soccer career. She was positioned on the left side of the field, at some distance from the goal, and to my surprise, she took a shot.  She kicked the ball and, as if it was in slow-motion, it flew almost gently through the air, went over the outstretched arms of the goalie, and landed in the back of the net.  It was a timeless moment.  It was chairos!

There are many chairos moments- weddings, births, proposals, promotions, and more- and there are countless chronos moments, although I would not call them "ordinary."  There are also moments of anxious time (will my in-laws like me), boring time (for me, an opera), and passionate time (fill in the example yourself).  There is all sorts of time, but today I want to talk about that awkward in-between time when you have already said goodbye, but you're not gone yet. People know that you will not be part of their future, but you are not yet part of the past.  And time just hangs, awkwardly  Well, that's the time I'm living in here at the church.  I gave too much notice of my retirement and was part of rallying others to find a replacement.  I was pleased to give them enough notice to find another pastor, but now, the very people that I once counted on- the people I love- no longer quite know what to do with me.  I am no longer in on things, and if I am, it is only in a perfunctory manner.  Meetings are held without my knowledge; strategies are set to meet "their" goals, not "ours"; and while many people will miss me (I think), others are enthused by the chance of carving out their own direction. This is, of course, the way it should be, the way it has always been, but I'm in pain.

When I was in the retailing business, we seldom accepted an employee's notice.  We honored their notice of resignation.  We paid them their two weeks, but we ushered them out the door immediately, believing that their thoughts had already turned elsewhere.  In fact, as soon as an employee gave notice, he or she was no longer invited to planning meetings or given information that employees only should have.  Family business is family business and they were no longer family.  Having a non-family member hanging around for weeks and months on end is an awkward thing.  No doubt, and I am not surprised at the sudden change in my relationships with my old friends.  Yesterday I was asked to approve an event that will take place AFTER I'm gone, and I thought "why?".  Why should I approve or disapprove anything now?  Where do old pastors go? And why did I give so much notice?

pk

PRESBYTERIAN AND PENTECOSTAL???

This month, my church newsletter column focuses on Pentecost, which is the day on which the greater church was born. For many years now, the term "Pentecostal" has been increasingly associated with speaking in tongues, which is a spiritual gift that I respect and celebrate. However, for the legions of believers who don't praise God in tongues, exclusive focus on just one of the Spirit's gifts is disenfranchising, disabling, and disappointing.  Tying the Spirit to a single spiritual gift makes it difficult for the rest of us to enjoy the Birthday party... BUT we need not despair because Pentecost is for us too- for all on us in the so-called mainline church- and for cerebral, stoic Christians everywhere.

In the first place, when we're baptized, we are baptized in the name of the Father, Son, AND Holy Ghost, and what is more- for each of us, baptism is a tomb in which we die to self and a womb in which we are reborn as a new creation.  Knowing this, believing this, and living as if this is true is the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives.  No one can profess Christ as Lord and Savior apart from the power of the Holy Spirit.  Secondly, when we join a Christian community, we confess our faith in the Holy Spirit, and if we are ordained as elders or deacons as we mature as Christians, we are ordained in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Indeed, as our recent PCUSA Statement of Faith notes, "we trust in God the Holy Spirit, everywhere the giver and renewer of life."  The Spirit, our Confession goes on to say, justifies us by grace through faith, set us free from idolatry, binds us together with all believers, engages us in the word proclaimed, gives us courage to pray without ceasing, to work with others for justice and peace, and to witness that Christ Jesus is indeed Lord and Savior.

 In short, we are not only called into ministry by the Holy Spirit, but we trust in the Spirit for grace and courage and strength.  Our entire Christian journey relies on Spirit-power... BUT we are also blessed with many, many gifts of the Spirit.  There are Presbyterians who do speak and pray in the Spirit, BUT the rest of us are blessed with (and these are not mutually exclusive) the gifts of grace, courage, wisdom, discernment, faith itself, patience, understanding, proclamation, hope, expectation, unity, vision, and leadership- just to name a few in no particular order. Yesterday, I preached about Tabitha, and we discovered that she transformed her community with gifts of service and compassion.  These are gifts of the Holy Spirit, as is the willingness to do anything for Christ!   

Presbyterians who know Christ as Lord and Savior are Spirit-filled and Spirit-powered.  So, let's get ready for the party on May 19.  Bring your family and friends as we praise God with all of the strength and exuberance we can muster.  Pentecost was a day of inclusion, not exclusion, and it was a day of understanding, not confusion. Thus, our commitment to decency and order is well taken... but let's face it: knowing that we've been saved ought to bring a smile to our face and a dance to our step!  Some of us may even be led to raise our hands now and then!

Shalom,

pk

REMEMBERING One of His Sheep

Tomorrow, I will conduct a Memorial service for Coy Bullard.  As a pastor in a aging, "mainline," denomination, I've done hundreds of funerals- 49 in Rock Island alone- and I've felt good about most of them.  In their own quiet and stoic way, the vast majority of our saints die with Resurrection Hope in their hearts.  With few exceptions, they really do see their own funeral as a Service of Life, and their strong faith lifts the rest of us.  I've long since decided that funerals are far more comforting that weddings.  Our service tomorrow will be grace-filled too, but Coy Bullard was a man of extraordinary faith..

He asked me to stop by his hospital room and pray with him a couple of days ago because he was "ready to meet His Lord." He said that he couldn't wait to sit down and talk with Jesus "on a hill somewhere" and that he desperately wanted to be reunited with his wife and parents.  He told me that he had accepted Christ on Easter Sunday 49 years ago and that he had lived for Christ ever since.  He had never asked for much from God, he indicated, other than to bless his loved ones, but he was now asking God to take him home quickly.  "Come, Lord Jesus." This was his prayer and it was a prayer that we shared together in our sacred moment.  Tomorrow morning, as is my custom, we will thank God for allowing us to share life's stage with Coy and we will claim our faith that, through Christ, Coy lives.  We will also do our best to capture the essence of Coy's life, but in a letter that Coy wrote years ago, he speaks for himself quite nicely. 

He entitles his thoughts, "To be read at my Services," and what follows is some of what I will read tomorrow:

Since this will be the last Funeral Service I will ever attend, I thought it appropriate to make a few last comments, and then, forever hold my Peace. I was blessed by God in many ways, probably more than I deserved.  I will tell you about some of them.  I was blessed with loving, caring parents who made sacrifices for me.  Life in the "Great Depression" was not easy, especially for Mom and Dad, but I never knew anything of it until much later.  I was encouraged to read books, build things with my hands, and to have patience.  Mom was a consummate seamstress, and dad was a mechanical genius, who could operate and repair anything, even though he did not have much formal education.  I was fortunate to have inherited some abilities, and was clever in some ways, but I was not as gifted as my parents were.  They endured the smell of airplane glue when I build model airplanes; they covered their ears when I learned to play guitar, and they put up with a 60 foot tower in our back yard when I built my amateur radio station.

Later, I was blessed by knowing a wonderful man who became my mentor at WOC, where I was given the chance to make mistakes and pursue great opportunities, and to get paid for doing what I enjoyed. And it gave me a chance to meet a very special lady.  Meeting and working with Mary was the most important event in my live.  As we became friends, it became apparent that we belonged together, and January 16, 1965 started the most important, and certainly the happiest, part of my life.  Because of Mary I did things that I didn't think possible.  She brought out the best in me.  She was a lot smarter that I was, but she never said so. She overlooked my failings and shared her life with me without hesitation.  We always had a strong Trust between us and that never wavered. I knew I loved her the first moment I saw her in that old WOC building, and I loved her more each day that we were together. 

Finally, as my time on earth draws to an end, I have to say that I have no real regrets.  I know that I said things and did things that I should not have.  I take full responsibility for that, but I did the best I could.  I do regret that there were things left unsaid and undone.  I know that this probably disappointed friends, family, and Mary, and for that, I am truly sorry.  I know that there were, and are, loved ones that I never told enough how much I loved them, and I know that I never told Mary often enough how much her love and friendship meant to me.  I hope that now I will have that opportunity.  With that, I say Goodbye, and may God bless you as richly as He has blessed me.  My relationship with Jesus has grown every day and it is now the most important thing in the world to me.  I am trusting in Him as you hear these words...    Coy M. Bullard

Coy Bullard will forever stand out in my mind as an authentic Christian witness- a gentle and grateful man- who brightened our church with grace.  He absolutely adored the Gaither's music, and perhaps he will be pleased when we conclude tomorrow's service with "Because He Lives."

Shalom,

pk

BOSTON TRAGEDY-FAITH PROCLAIMS WHAT REASON CANNOT EXPLAIN

It's "Patriot's Day" in Boston today.  A day of celebration. The Red Sox won, and it was a great day for a marathon.  It's "Tax day" in America too, and it's yet another day for one of our children to meet a violent death.  In fact, at least three people lost their lives in Boston today because someone, or some group, blew them up.  Reports indicate that more than 100 more innocent and ordinary people were injured as well, many of them critically.  I don't live in Boston.  I've never even been to Boston, but my heart breaks for those who were victimized today.  My heart breaks for them, and for the rest of us, because we're all caught up in a maddening escalation of hatred and violence.  People have been  killing one another since Cain murdered his brother, and the history of our world is, in many ways, a history of violence. I am old enough to know these things, but things seem to be getting out of hand in recent years.  They are unrelated- Columbine, Aurora, Newtown, Boston, Oklahoma City, the gang-related killings in Chicago and all the others.  Different people died at the hands of different killers for different reasons, but the deaths, and the randomness of the deaths, are adding up. Americans are getting more and more tense, fearful, and distrusting, and even though we say that nothing will change our way of life, we stand in long lines, without shoes, just to board a plane.

What's going on?  Does anybody know?  And who's to blame?  Is it really just a matter of tighter gun laws?  Or better schools?  Or less poverty?  Or violent video games? Or adults who are self-indulgent? Or drugs?  Or simply the changing of society?  My father was sure that Elvis was ushering in a time of calamity, and he thought that the "Great Society" would be the death of our national character.  Were these moments really the beginning of the end?  Or can we trace the origin of the slippery slope back to the day when they opened the stores on Sundays?  Well, it's hard to say, but there does seem to be a perfect storm brewing in which self-indulgence and intolerance of others are coming to a head.  They are a bad combination to begin with, but when one throws in hatred and fear, and takes out religion and faith, we have a recipe for disaster. 

As a "street theologian" I'm at a loss for words to explain why tragedies happen.  Indeed, I can't even explain why sad things have happened to me, but they have. I've buried a father and two brothers, and I know that pious platitudes will not suffice.  There is deep sadness in Boston tonight, and there seems to be a pervasive sadness over the country these days.  These things are real, but they are NOT the final word.  They are not the final word and never will be because faith is knowing that God walks with us WHEN we walk through the valley of the shadow of death.  Faith is believing that God walks with us in troubled times, and thus, rather than explain why bad things happen, faith sees us through   In short, faith doesn't explain- it proclaims!

 I don't know why our children die, and I don't know why we suffer, but I do know that our God is in the resurrection business.  God cries for us, just as surely as He cried over Jerusalem, because our pain is great and because we have rejected the fullness of life that He offers. Death is everywhere around us, and I won't add to its emptiness by trying to explain it.. But this truth I cling to: God is able to bring life out of death!  Indeed, this lies at the very core of our faith, and therefore, against all odds, there is hope for us tomorrow.

Shalom,

pk
yt

CANCER AND THE FUTURE

My wife and I just returned from Chicago, and we're waiting for her oncologist to send us her blood counts.  We've done this dozens of times before because she was diagnosed with "Multiple Myeloma" more than ten years ago. We have already been blessed greatly because the average life expectancy for people with MM is something in the area of 5-7 years at this time, and it used to be much less.  We are very thankful for the prayers, goodwill, and excellent medical care Sherry has received, and we know that things could have been much worse.en  Still, she has received two stem cell transplants for her cancer, undergone three surgeries for glaucoma, and experienced extensive treatment for a lung disease called " MAC" over the last decade. At times, her anxiety has been debilitating, but, by and large, we have discovered that people CAN live with cancer.

When one is diagnosed with cancer, life goes on. Children continue to have birthdays, errands still need to be run, and the Cubs continue to lose. At first, the word, "Cancer,"  shoves everything else into the background, but eventually it becomes just another part of one's life. Life goes on and the present can still be rich, but the future seems to slip away.  It doesn't make sense to talk about retirement, or even a medium-term investment. Recently, my wife was a little concerned when I mentioned a 7-year ARM for a loan.  A 30-year fixed rate is much more secure, she noted, and she's right of course... unless you have 5 years to live!  Even now, as we near retirement, Sherry and I don't really know what to do with tomorrow. She is only 67, but it is unlikely that we will be together in five years (that would be pushing the outer limits of MM). But who knows?  Perhaps someone will find a cure tomorrow. Perhaps I will die long before she does. It is impossible to know. Everyone is in the same boat, but unless you've received a death notice, you can pretend that tomorrow is in your hands.

Yes, it is frustrating to give up the illusion of control, even if it is just an illusion. Living in today seems limiting, but actually it is a great spiritual blessing. Indeed, while we never asked for it, living with cancer has enriched our relationship with each other and with our God. Today I thank God for giving Sherry and me several years in which we were able to truly value every moment of life.  Today I thank God for giving us the chance to embrace our loved ones as if there is no tomorrow.  Today I thank God for teaching me to live in the moment and to trust Him with tomorrow.

Living in the NOW helps us separate the wheat from the chaff.  It makes us more sensitive to the things that are really important. One of my favorite authors noted that there is a big difference between a lump in one's oatmeal, a lump in one's throat, and a lump in one's breast. Indeed. Now I know what he meant.

On Faith and Doubt- Thoughts on John 20:19-31

"Tom- The Concrete Man"

John 20:19-31

Did you hear the joke about the neighbor who loved children in the abstract?  A young married couple who had several children lived next door to an older man who frequently told them how much he loved children, especially their little tykes. But when these same kids ran through the neighbor's new driveway before the concrete dried, the neighbor was incensed. He was beside himself, and when the couple commented, "You told us that you loved children," the neighbor replied, "I do. I do love children, in the abstract, but not in the concrete!" Perhaps you have known or know people who embrace things more willingly in the abstract than they do in the concrete.  Well, Thomas the Twin (Didymus) was just the opposite. He was a committed as anyone to the things he had seen, but he trouble embracing those things he had not seen.

If Thomas had seen something, he was capable of being deeply committed to it, as Scripture tells us in the 11th chapter of John. When Jesus heard that his friend, Lazarus, was ill, he waited two days and then said, "Let's get going," to his disciples. But they were afraid.  "Teacher," they cried, "We just barely made it out of that area alive, and now, you want us to go back?" Jesus explained that Lazarus needed them, but the disciples were still afraid. And then, Thomas, who would later be given the label "Doubting," stepped to the plate. "Let us go and die with Jesus," he said, showing that he was fully committed to his earthly Lord.  He had seen Jesus heal, he had heard his wisdom, he had witnessed His miracles, and he believed, even to the point of death!  If Thomas could see it, he believed it as much as anyone, but he wasn't good with abstract ideas. For instance, when Jesus told his disciples that they knew the way to the place where He was going,(John 14:4-5) it was Thomas who had the courage to say, "Master, we have no idea where you are going. How in the world can we know the way?"  This honest question gave rise to one of the Bible's great truths when Jesus replied, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life, and no one comes to the God except through me." Honest questions often elicit life-changing answers, and honest doubt can be the catalyst for great faith, which brings me back to our passage today.    

On Sunday evening, His frightened disciples were clustered behind closed doors for "fear of the Jews." They were dejected, believing that the power of evil had prevailed once again. They were confused, as they had often been while Jesus was alive, and they were hopeless. Then, our Risen Christ appeared to them, which is, in itself, life-changing news. Just knowing that closed doors cannot keep Christ from ministering to us is overwhelming. But there's more: in the midst of our pain, Christ offers us peace  that transcends circumstance! Real shalom, not just the absence of war (although we pray for that); real peace, not just a temporary truce (although that is a blessing to a battle-weary soul). Only Christ can give peace at this depth, and that is exactly what he gave to his troubled disciples. But Thomas the Doubter was not with them when Jesus first appeared, and because he only embraced things ”in concrete," he could NOT believe.  He needed proof-the same proof that the other disciples had already seen- and he said so.  His need was an honest expression, not a stubborn stance, and Jesus met Thomas in his need.  He met Thomas at his place of need and showed Thomas his wounds. Nothing can be more concrete than open wounds, and Thomas saw what he needed to see!  "My Lord and My God," he cried, showing us that honest moments of doubt often give birth to greater conviction and faith.

There are many things that can be said about this morning's Bible passage.  It is rich in material. Peace, forgiveness, faith, doubt, Christ's presence, even the giving of the Holy Spirit- they're all here and they're all worthy of proclamation. However, I will simply offer a few thoughts on doubt and faith:

 1) Doubt is NOT the opposite of faith. Someone said that "faith is the ants in the pants of faith," and it

is true that honest doubt may well lead us to greater growth in Christ. So, don't give up when doubt rears its      head.    Instead, turn to prayer, Scripture, and to a Christian you trust.  Let doubt spur you    to a faith that is more strongly rooted, but...

2)  Do NOT surrender to doubt.  Do NOT become a doubting person. Doubts are common enough,

especially in the early stages of a faith journey, but a DOUBTING person will never reap the rewards of
faith because we are saved by grace through faith.  Besides, while faith and reason can be dialogue partners
for part of our journey in life, faith goes on when reason drops off.  No matter how much we know, no matter how smart we are, salvation demands a leap of faith  It is one thing to wish for more answers in the concrete- it is quite another to need them. Thomas had a choice that we do not have. We MUST live by faith, which is  great  because the best things in life can neither be measured or seen. Things like joy, honor, and love cannot be dissected, but they make our lives fuller, even as faith in the Risen Christ makes our lives worth living.

3)  None of us will ever come to faith by putting our hands in His wounds, but we have the Holy Spirit,

 who gives us the wherewithal to call Him, Lord, and to serve Him in every way we can.  We are     blessed with the Holy Spirit and also with Scripture, which is His Living Word.  What is more, our    Lord intercedes for us in heaven and lives within us. In short, as Christ himself noted, we are empowered to do "greater" things that He did.

 Thomas the "cement-man," was wrong, not so much in his doubting, but in the course that he was taking.  What the Twin didn't know is that the quest for proof is ultimately a dead-end because, when it comes to spiritual matters, believing is seeing!  If we only believe what we see, most of us will be forever in the dark.  However, if we see what we believe, we will see Christ in many places and we will see the Image of God in every person we encounter!  Amen.

Holy Week Thoughts

Were you there... when they crucified our Lord?  I was.  I was there.  Disappointed and frustrated that Jesus hadn't done what I would've had him do, I cried out, "Crucify Him." Yes, crucify him for deceiving those of us who counted on him. Crucify him for giving us false hope when we were so vulnerable; crucify him for getting himself killed when so many of us needed him so desperately.  He had good intentions and a heart for people. I still believe this much. He also had the instincts that men of justice need- interceding for women on several occasions- and, God knows, he had courage.  It took courage to speak truth to power; it took courage to touch the lepers; and it took courage to dine with Pharisees. I loved him, but kings don't hang on trees. So, I screamed "Crucify Him," and watched him die. 

Were you there... with the women... when they stood at his empty tomb?  I was.  I was there, expecting to do little more than take in the sadness.  I've walked through many  graveyards in my life and it's always the same.  We walk in between the tombs of strangers, until we reach the grave we're seeking.  Sometimes it's a grave that's been dug; sometimes, it's a crematorium; sometimes, it's a cave with a heavy stone protecting the entrance... but there's always a dead body, or the remains of the one we loved. We never expect anything more than a dead body because graves are for the dead, and we only go to weep and show our respect.  You've been there. And the women were there, looking only to express their love for him.  It would be foolish-insane- to expect to meet the living in a cemetery, but Mary heard his voice. "Miriam," he called, and she knew his voice at once.  Have you ever been overwhelmed with something that surprised you? Have you ever been in a place of darkness and heard his voice? Has God ever asked you the question he asked the women at the tomb: why do you seek the living among the dead?  Have you ever encountered God in the graveyard? Have you ever been there... when he called your name? 

I was in the garden when the morning broke.  I recognized him.  Praise God, I recognized His voice (to my own surprise), and like Mary, reached for him.  "O my dearest Lord, I am so very glad to see you!  My tongue is tied because my heart is in my throat and I so badly want to wrap my arms around you."  I bet Mary thought something like this... but he said: "Noli me, tangere.  Don't cling to me." I'm going to my "abba," he said... but YOU have work to do." You have a story to tell. Hurry now and tell the others! Tell'em that death is not the victor.  Tell'em that sin is not their master!  Tell'em that I live and that because I live, they also will live- fully, abundantly, purposefully, eternally!  Run and tell them! Show them, Mary, Ken, and Christian- that you have a joy that cannot be squelched and a peace that passes all circumstance because I am alive.

O, dear child, you who felt so unworthy, have found your worth in me.  You who were so sure that death and darkness had carried the day, have seen that the day belongs to God!  You who sought love and life in the wrong places, have found the essence of both in me. Now, get going and tell them.  Tell them all that I live.  Tell them that I have carried their sin to the cross and I have risen in victory over death! Tell them that I have forgiven them- even those who cried out, "Crucify Him." Grace has triumphed and that alone makes life worth the living!  Tell'em that.  Amen.