Do you remember being afraid of death? I used to run away from thinking about it--I'd do anything to avoid letting my mind wander to the topic. And then I gave my life to Jesus, and the fear just melted away. How amazing!
I was reminded of that old, gnawing fear today at our Easter service. We were singing the third verse of "Because He Lives," which goes like this: "And then one day I'll cross that river, I'll fight life's final war with pain. And then as death gives way to victory, I'll see the lights of glory and I'll know he lives."
And suddenly, I remembered. The nights lying alone in bed, distractions and defenses of the day reduced to nothing, desperately trying to avoid the thoughts--the times, in broad daylight, when something random would remind me of death and I'd struggle to find a different topic, to change the course of my mental ramblings. And never being able, ultimately, to escape.
From June 10, 1970 to this day I've never had another thought like those. I've thought of death, of course, particularly with the two brain tumors, and what it would do to my family, and I've even thought some long thoughts about what I might have to offer Christ, but not once have I ever worried about my own destiny. In fact, in the couple of years preceding my surgery in 1987, I had not one, but two dreams about death. And in both, with death a split-second away, I felt like a baby in a mother's arms. Again--amazing.
And as we sang, I started to cry.
Sometimes it's good to remember from where you've come.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
April 5
Here's a devotional I wrote for an accountability group a few years ago.
THAT RASCAL IS HEAVY
Matthew 7:5--You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.
Bless God, Jesus was not afraid to say what needed to be said.
Entirely apart from the comedic value of this statement, which still elicits a few chuckles, Jeus is saying three things we need to hear.
The first thing is simply this: we are sinners.
The second item is worse news yet: even if we admit to a few peccadillos, our sense of scale is badly distorted. We don't consider our sin any large matter. Now that other guy--his sin reeks!
Pardon me, says Jesus, but you've got that backwards. You're the hypocrite, pal. Not the other guy.
These two problems, grievous sin and our inability to name it as such, lead inevitably to a third problem: we're no earthly good to anyone else who struggles with sin.
Now see here, you might be thinking, I can help that other guy. With a two-by-four, I'll help him.
Actually, friend, the two-by-four is stuck in your eye.
And here I've got to get personal. Because, truth be told, it's not just stuck in your eye, it's stuck in mine too. And the one in my eye is the one I need to worry about.
You see, I've never been commissioned as someone else's personal Holy Spirit. That's hard for me to comprehend, but it's true.
Once I quit obsessing about someone else's sin, however, I'm free to start dealing with my own. And that's exactly what Jesus wants me to do; has, in fact, promised to help me do.
It is true that when I really engage my sin God's way, i.e., with a group of similar sinners, there may be a few times when God calls me to confront another person. But I must always do this in humility, and once the Holy Spirit has accomplished his task through me, I need to let the matter rest.
Because my own sin is still the big-ticket item.
But praise God, he's helping me to get a grip on that two by four.
Man, that rascal is heavy!
THAT RASCAL IS HEAVY
Matthew 7:5--You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.
Bless God, Jesus was not afraid to say what needed to be said.
Entirely apart from the comedic value of this statement, which still elicits a few chuckles, Jeus is saying three things we need to hear.
The first thing is simply this: we are sinners.
The second item is worse news yet: even if we admit to a few peccadillos, our sense of scale is badly distorted. We don't consider our sin any large matter. Now that other guy--his sin reeks!
Pardon me, says Jesus, but you've got that backwards. You're the hypocrite, pal. Not the other guy.
These two problems, grievous sin and our inability to name it as such, lead inevitably to a third problem: we're no earthly good to anyone else who struggles with sin.
Now see here, you might be thinking, I can help that other guy. With a two-by-four, I'll help him.
Actually, friend, the two-by-four is stuck in your eye.
And here I've got to get personal. Because, truth be told, it's not just stuck in your eye, it's stuck in mine too. And the one in my eye is the one I need to worry about.
You see, I've never been commissioned as someone else's personal Holy Spirit. That's hard for me to comprehend, but it's true.
Once I quit obsessing about someone else's sin, however, I'm free to start dealing with my own. And that's exactly what Jesus wants me to do; has, in fact, promised to help me do.
It is true that when I really engage my sin God's way, i.e., with a group of similar sinners, there may be a few times when God calls me to confront another person. But I must always do this in humility, and once the Holy Spirit has accomplished his task through me, I need to let the matter rest.
Because my own sin is still the big-ticket item.
But praise God, he's helping me to get a grip on that two by four.
Man, that rascal is heavy!
Monday, March 23, 2009
March 23
I sent the March 16 blog post to the guys in an accountability group I attend. Afterward, a friend commented to me on the imagery of a bug splattered on a windshield locomotive. Well, it just seemed natural, given the large number of locomotives in the world and the even larger number of bugs.
I finished my third chemotherapy treatment six days ago. (I've got three more to go.) I've been pretty washed out since then, but hopefully things are turning around. This post may not be long, as I've got to go upstairs and catch a nap.
Paul Rudy's surgery, which I mentioned in the March 10 post, was successful in removing all the cancer. That is a huge blessing! But just a day before he underwent surgery, a family in his church with an eight-year old son named Jacob got very bad news. Jacob had been diagnosed more than a year earlier with a very aggressive cancer, neuroblastoma, but treatment had apparently gotten rid of it. However--recent tests showed it's come back. We need to pray for him and his family. His Mom and Dad are named Florita and Harry, and he has two younger siblings.
My church is beginning a small-group ministry in just a couple of weeks. I am heading a men's accountability group modeled on Ouija Sink's group at Redeemer Presbyterian in Winston-Salem. Ouija's group, called simply TMAG (Tuesday Men's Accountability Group) has worked tremendous progress in the lives of a number of men struggling with both heterosexual and homosexual sin. I was a charter member in July of 2003, and it has enabled me to get a handle on an addiction to heterosexual pornography and lust. I am praying very hard that we will be able to pass that blessing on to others in a new setting, while at the same time mourning the pending loss of some friendships I hold very dear.
Time to sign off. See you later!
I finished my third chemotherapy treatment six days ago. (I've got three more to go.) I've been pretty washed out since then, but hopefully things are turning around. This post may not be long, as I've got to go upstairs and catch a nap.
Paul Rudy's surgery, which I mentioned in the March 10 post, was successful in removing all the cancer. That is a huge blessing! But just a day before he underwent surgery, a family in his church with an eight-year old son named Jacob got very bad news. Jacob had been diagnosed more than a year earlier with a very aggressive cancer, neuroblastoma, but treatment had apparently gotten rid of it. However--recent tests showed it's come back. We need to pray for him and his family. His Mom and Dad are named Florita and Harry, and he has two younger siblings.
My church is beginning a small-group ministry in just a couple of weeks. I am heading a men's accountability group modeled on Ouija Sink's group at Redeemer Presbyterian in Winston-Salem. Ouija's group, called simply TMAG (Tuesday Men's Accountability Group) has worked tremendous progress in the lives of a number of men struggling with both heterosexual and homosexual sin. I was a charter member in July of 2003, and it has enabled me to get a handle on an addiction to heterosexual pornography and lust. I am praying very hard that we will be able to pass that blessing on to others in a new setting, while at the same time mourning the pending loss of some friendships I hold very dear.
Time to sign off. See you later!
Monday, March 16, 2009
March 16
Okay, that's more like it. Six days from the last post. If you recall, I gave myself permission to write. Now I'm using it.
Two updates. Rhonda Dering, whom many of you know, went home last week. Sometimes I am conflicted about how to pray, but in her case, it became obvious that God was not going to prolong her time on earth. And so I prayed that she would have grace to cross the river. God answered that prayer, and today she is with Jesus, seeing unimaginable sights. Her funeral is Saturday, March 21.
The other update has to do with my brother-in-law, Paul Rudy, a minister in southeastern Wisconsin. I and a lot of other people prayed very hard for him during his surgery last Friday, and it appears God has given us the answer we were looking for, though we won't know for sure until the pathology reports come back this week. He was full of quips afterwards. When my sister told him they had to take part of his colon along with everything else, he said "Well, now I've got a semi-colon."
One more update. It does look as though God is working out the schedule change conundrum I referred to last week, where I was getting shortchanged by not being able to take a nap in the morning. Last week I really did do better on getting by with, say, nine hours sleep at night and no naps. It is problematical, though, when you have to pee four times a night, which I do, because if your mind runs off on some tangent when you lie back down, you might not go back to sleep. That actually happened, Friday night, costing me at least four hours sleep, and impacting me right into Sunday. (It was a little embarrassing to have to tell my pastor that I fell asleep during his sermon and could he please repeat the main points, but retrieving one of his sermons is worth some embarrassment.)
Now for a little more from the quiet time "research lab." As you might remember, a few months ago on this blog I posted a devotional I had written about quiet times in which I suggested we stop having them. Actually, I suggested we stop having them just to show off. I didn't really mean we shouldn't have quiet time. After all, God's children need to grow, and you won't grow if you don't eat.
But even if we are committed to "doing" time with God for the right reasons, as I mentioned last week, it's still very easy to slip back into the wrong motivation. That is part of our struggle as humans. Satan is always sliding that noxious vapor of self-righteousness under our bedroom door, and we need the gas mask of the gospel to filter out his poison.
But the more you humbly and conscientiously persist at quiet time, the more things begin to change. God slowly but consistently forms your character with every step you take in the right direction, and eventually you find yourself playing in a higher league. You move closer to the place where you actually enjoy getting out of bed because you know whom you'll find when you do get your lazy bones moving--none other than God himself.
In my case, when I first consciously dedicated myself to quiet time, I would begin by dressing, then going downstairs and doing a couple of little things that really needed doing, i.e., feeding the dogs and changing the cat litter box. Then I would sit down and read my Bible. But by that point, to use Will Rogers' memorable phrase, the "new had already gotten rubbed off" the day, and though I still could get caught up in the Biblical narrative, by the time I got around to praying, things were getting a little arid.
So now I simply drop to my knees the minute I get out of bed. I've got a prayer list I keep on my bedstand, and moving that the two feet to my bed is all I've got to do to start. After fifteen minutes of praying, it's time to do the chores, quickly; and then I read. That's my routine, anyway. I'm sure yours might be different.
All this, by the way, from a man who is definitely not a morning person. But I do quiet time first thing in the morning for one simple reason--my mind is still uncluttered. The minute you eat breakfast and start thinking about what you have to do next, the day roars into your brain like a mile-long Union Pacific freight train. And then, of course, any hope of having quiet time is splattered like a dead bug all over the windshield of the locomotive.
So there you have it--our weekly "Quiet Time Research Lab 101." Let me know if you've got some research you'd like to share with me. Have a good week!
Two updates. Rhonda Dering, whom many of you know, went home last week. Sometimes I am conflicted about how to pray, but in her case, it became obvious that God was not going to prolong her time on earth. And so I prayed that she would have grace to cross the river. God answered that prayer, and today she is with Jesus, seeing unimaginable sights. Her funeral is Saturday, March 21.
The other update has to do with my brother-in-law, Paul Rudy, a minister in southeastern Wisconsin. I and a lot of other people prayed very hard for him during his surgery last Friday, and it appears God has given us the answer we were looking for, though we won't know for sure until the pathology reports come back this week. He was full of quips afterwards. When my sister told him they had to take part of his colon along with everything else, he said "Well, now I've got a semi-colon."
One more update. It does look as though God is working out the schedule change conundrum I referred to last week, where I was getting shortchanged by not being able to take a nap in the morning. Last week I really did do better on getting by with, say, nine hours sleep at night and no naps. It is problematical, though, when you have to pee four times a night, which I do, because if your mind runs off on some tangent when you lie back down, you might not go back to sleep. That actually happened, Friday night, costing me at least four hours sleep, and impacting me right into Sunday. (It was a little embarrassing to have to tell my pastor that I fell asleep during his sermon and could he please repeat the main points, but retrieving one of his sermons is worth some embarrassment.)
Now for a little more from the quiet time "research lab." As you might remember, a few months ago on this blog I posted a devotional I had written about quiet times in which I suggested we stop having them. Actually, I suggested we stop having them just to show off. I didn't really mean we shouldn't have quiet time. After all, God's children need to grow, and you won't grow if you don't eat.
But even if we are committed to "doing" time with God for the right reasons, as I mentioned last week, it's still very easy to slip back into the wrong motivation. That is part of our struggle as humans. Satan is always sliding that noxious vapor of self-righteousness under our bedroom door, and we need the gas mask of the gospel to filter out his poison.
But the more you humbly and conscientiously persist at quiet time, the more things begin to change. God slowly but consistently forms your character with every step you take in the right direction, and eventually you find yourself playing in a higher league. You move closer to the place where you actually enjoy getting out of bed because you know whom you'll find when you do get your lazy bones moving--none other than God himself.
In my case, when I first consciously dedicated myself to quiet time, I would begin by dressing, then going downstairs and doing a couple of little things that really needed doing, i.e., feeding the dogs and changing the cat litter box. Then I would sit down and read my Bible. But by that point, to use Will Rogers' memorable phrase, the "new had already gotten rubbed off" the day, and though I still could get caught up in the Biblical narrative, by the time I got around to praying, things were getting a little arid.
So now I simply drop to my knees the minute I get out of bed. I've got a prayer list I keep on my bedstand, and moving that the two feet to my bed is all I've got to do to start. After fifteen minutes of praying, it's time to do the chores, quickly; and then I read. That's my routine, anyway. I'm sure yours might be different.
All this, by the way, from a man who is definitely not a morning person. But I do quiet time first thing in the morning for one simple reason--my mind is still uncluttered. The minute you eat breakfast and start thinking about what you have to do next, the day roars into your brain like a mile-long Union Pacific freight train. And then, of course, any hope of having quiet time is splattered like a dead bug all over the windshield of the locomotive.
So there you have it--our weekly "Quiet Time Research Lab 101." Let me know if you've got some research you'd like to share with me. Have a good week!
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
March 10
February 17 to March 10--I've really got to get with the program. I keep thinking about all these other things I've got to do--that's a recipe for disaster. I am covenanting with myself and with God, right now, to write more often. Writing is one of my gifts, part of my mission in life. So I give myself permission to do it.
I have been having my quiet times and have been learning many things, among them how easy it is to be with the program and yet not with it. That is to say, to have your mouth and your body in the right place but for your heart to be somewhere far away. That can happen without even knowing it.
But the lesson of the Scripture I've been reading is that even when your heart is in the wrong place, God is still faithful. I've been reading about Abraham, the father of the faithful, and it strikes me that there were times his heart was definitely not in the right place, times where his heart was depressed and fearful and weak and foolish and totally out of joint. And yet God worked in his life, and not only in his life but in the life of every believer since then. God has his purposes and he will accomplish them, no matter how weak and sinful the vessels he is using.
I was lying in bed this morning struggling with many things, and it occurred to me the only answer is to believe--that God is alive and is working and will accomplish what he wants to accomplish in my life. And so I made a conscious commitment to believe that. (And I got out of bed.!)
As regards the medical situation, the five hours of light duty continue, but at a different venue and at different hours. I've moved from Archdale back to High Point, and my hours have changed from morning to afternoon. On a morning schedule, I could come home and nap in the afternoon. An afternoon schedule, however, is more challenging, since when I get home, at six, it is too late to nap. And when I do get home, Alison often has homework she needs help with, and I am generally too tired to be of much use. I am still looking for a way around this conundrum, but I know God has one.
I am getting ready to start my third month's worth of chemotherapy--one week a month, from January till June, is the schedule. I still fatigue easily. I got up yesterday at 7:30, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and was out of gas by 12:45. That's typical, which makes me wonder when I will ever be able to work fulltime. At the rate I'm using it, I run out of sick leave near the end of April. I do have a bunch of annual leave, but I don't really want to use that.
But those are all questions God can deal with. He has not let me down yet, and I don't expect him to do it anytime soon.
I hope you will excuse me--I just got back from watching the north-bound Cotton Grove local on the Winston-Salem Southbound Railroad, which runs about two hundred yards from my house. This economy has really affected traffic, but they still need an engine to pull the thing, and locomotives have always fascinated me. This one was an SD 60, which packs 3600 horsepower. Quite a bit more than was needed for seven cars, I might add.
One last item--please pray for my brother-in-law, Paul Rudy, a loving minister of the gospel in SE Wisconsin. He is having surgery on Friday to remove a tumor that is growing in four different internal organs, including his stomach, and if this surgery does not work he won't live long. He has a wife (my sister) and three daughters, college-aged to junior high. The surgery starts at 9:30 EDT.
You know what I'll be doing then!
I have been having my quiet times and have been learning many things, among them how easy it is to be with the program and yet not with it. That is to say, to have your mouth and your body in the right place but for your heart to be somewhere far away. That can happen without even knowing it.
But the lesson of the Scripture I've been reading is that even when your heart is in the wrong place, God is still faithful. I've been reading about Abraham, the father of the faithful, and it strikes me that there were times his heart was definitely not in the right place, times where his heart was depressed and fearful and weak and foolish and totally out of joint. And yet God worked in his life, and not only in his life but in the life of every believer since then. God has his purposes and he will accomplish them, no matter how weak and sinful the vessels he is using.
I was lying in bed this morning struggling with many things, and it occurred to me the only answer is to believe--that God is alive and is working and will accomplish what he wants to accomplish in my life. And so I made a conscious commitment to believe that. (And I got out of bed.!)
As regards the medical situation, the five hours of light duty continue, but at a different venue and at different hours. I've moved from Archdale back to High Point, and my hours have changed from morning to afternoon. On a morning schedule, I could come home and nap in the afternoon. An afternoon schedule, however, is more challenging, since when I get home, at six, it is too late to nap. And when I do get home, Alison often has homework she needs help with, and I am generally too tired to be of much use. I am still looking for a way around this conundrum, but I know God has one.
I am getting ready to start my third month's worth of chemotherapy--one week a month, from January till June, is the schedule. I still fatigue easily. I got up yesterday at 7:30, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and was out of gas by 12:45. That's typical, which makes me wonder when I will ever be able to work fulltime. At the rate I'm using it, I run out of sick leave near the end of April. I do have a bunch of annual leave, but I don't really want to use that.
But those are all questions God can deal with. He has not let me down yet, and I don't expect him to do it anytime soon.
I hope you will excuse me--I just got back from watching the north-bound Cotton Grove local on the Winston-Salem Southbound Railroad, which runs about two hundred yards from my house. This economy has really affected traffic, but they still need an engine to pull the thing, and locomotives have always fascinated me. This one was an SD 60, which packs 3600 horsepower. Quite a bit more than was needed for seven cars, I might add.
One last item--please pray for my brother-in-law, Paul Rudy, a loving minister of the gospel in SE Wisconsin. He is having surgery on Friday to remove a tumor that is growing in four different internal organs, including his stomach, and if this surgery does not work he won't live long. He has a wife (my sister) and three daughters, college-aged to junior high. The surgery starts at 9:30 EDT.
You know what I'll be doing then!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
February 17
I may be wrong, but I could almost swear I heard a demon open my bedroom door, just before 10 PM last night, and whisper the following: "Yoo-hoo, Mr. 'captivating, lovely discipline of drawing near to God,' have we got a surprise for you. " And then the hourly beep of my watch on the bedstand, catapulting me into a waking condition that lasted for three hours.
At least, I think the demons were behind that beep. Or maybe I just forgot to shut off the hourly alarm feature. Anyhoo. Same difference.
Needless to say, my time with God this morning was neither captivating nor lovely. But that's the way it goes.
Take it from someone who's been around the block a couple of times, life has its up's and life has its down's. We live in a broken universe that, according to Romans 8:21, will only be healed when it is brought into the freedom of the glory of God's children. (By the way, there will be no insomnia in that universe.)
Meanwhile, believers experience tragic situations that will never change, no matter how much they pray for relief, and other situations that will change, but oh, so slowly, and only with overwhelming amounts of pain. I think of my friend Robert Dawkins. God never promised anything different.
But he did promise that he will be with us through the situation. And that he will be enough. And that, both here and on the other side, the pain will ultimately bring great glory to God and profound joy to us.
Here are the lyrics to one of my favorite songs, entitled simply "Through."
When I saw what lay before me
"Lord," I cried, "What will you do?"
I thought he would just remove it,
But he gently led me through.
Without fire, there's no refining,
Without pain, no relief.
Without flood, there's no rescue,
Without testing, no belief.
Through the fire, through the flood,
Through the water, through the blood,
Through the dry and barren places,
Through life's dense and maddening mazes,
Through the pain and through the glory,
Through will always tell the story
Of a God whose power and mercy
Will not fail to take us through.
At least, I think the demons were behind that beep. Or maybe I just forgot to shut off the hourly alarm feature. Anyhoo. Same difference.
Needless to say, my time with God this morning was neither captivating nor lovely. But that's the way it goes.
Take it from someone who's been around the block a couple of times, life has its up's and life has its down's. We live in a broken universe that, according to Romans 8:21, will only be healed when it is brought into the freedom of the glory of God's children. (By the way, there will be no insomnia in that universe.)
Meanwhile, believers experience tragic situations that will never change, no matter how much they pray for relief, and other situations that will change, but oh, so slowly, and only with overwhelming amounts of pain. I think of my friend Robert Dawkins. God never promised anything different.
But he did promise that he will be with us through the situation. And that he will be enough. And that, both here and on the other side, the pain will ultimately bring great glory to God and profound joy to us.
Here are the lyrics to one of my favorite songs, entitled simply "Through."
When I saw what lay before me
"Lord," I cried, "What will you do?"
I thought he would just remove it,
But he gently led me through.
Without fire, there's no refining,
Without pain, no relief.
Without flood, there's no rescue,
Without testing, no belief.
Through the fire, through the flood,
Through the water, through the blood,
Through the dry and barren places,
Through life's dense and maddening mazes,
Through the pain and through the glory,
Through will always tell the story
Of a God whose power and mercy
Will not fail to take us through.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
February 15
Two weeks and a day have passed since my last post, and I am here to report that I am presently working the five hour per day light-duty assignment, a custodian's job in Archdale, and will continue to do this for a month or more until I am ready to come back to carrying mail. I putter around, here and there, all at my own sweet pace. God is so very good!
I was sharing with my pastor today that, prior to my surgery, several groups of people had prayed for divine healing of the tumor. I believed with all my heart that this was a possibility, and even asked for one more MRI in case it had happened. It had not, however, and I proceeded with the surgery.
If it had happened, I would have missed one of the great blessings of my life. This whole process has brought me much closer to Jesus and has begun to warm my heart in a way I had longed for but never really thought possible. More specifically, I have been able to spend more time with Jesus and to grow, albeit so slowly, in the captivating, lovely discipline of drawing near to God. I had known beforehand what it meant to be warmed and nurtured by the Word of God, to crawl up on Jesus' lap, so to speak, and pour my heart out, to listen for his voice to me, but these times were much more irregular than they should have been. It occurred to me after the surgery that the time God was giving me was a great gift, and so I began to spend regular periods in the evening reading my Bible and then praying--either lying on my back beside my bed or just kneeling. Sometimes my mind would wander, but I saw a growth in my ability to call it back.
Somewhere along the line, I asked specifically to be able to pray passionately, and, praise God, that is happening more frequently.
And one more thing. I have begun, oh so slowly, to comprehend the amazing love of the triune God for Chuck Eggerth. There was a time when I did not really think I could comprehend it. Now I'm thinking differently--now I believe he wants me to know and experience and live in that tender, overwhelming love.
The challenge now is to transfer the evening time to the morning, which will involve getting up earlier. I'm not sure I'm up to it, but I'm going to try.
Sheldon Van Auken wrote a book entitled "A Severe Mercy." In it he recounts the death of his beloved wife and all the beauty that terrible, terrible grief ultimately worked into his life. My situation is not tragic like his, but the beauty is similar, and it has stirred my soul.
By the way, you don't need a brain tumor to experience this.
But that's what it took for me!
I was sharing with my pastor today that, prior to my surgery, several groups of people had prayed for divine healing of the tumor. I believed with all my heart that this was a possibility, and even asked for one more MRI in case it had happened. It had not, however, and I proceeded with the surgery.
If it had happened, I would have missed one of the great blessings of my life. This whole process has brought me much closer to Jesus and has begun to warm my heart in a way I had longed for but never really thought possible. More specifically, I have been able to spend more time with Jesus and to grow, albeit so slowly, in the captivating, lovely discipline of drawing near to God. I had known beforehand what it meant to be warmed and nurtured by the Word of God, to crawl up on Jesus' lap, so to speak, and pour my heart out, to listen for his voice to me, but these times were much more irregular than they should have been. It occurred to me after the surgery that the time God was giving me was a great gift, and so I began to spend regular periods in the evening reading my Bible and then praying--either lying on my back beside my bed or just kneeling. Sometimes my mind would wander, but I saw a growth in my ability to call it back.
Somewhere along the line, I asked specifically to be able to pray passionately, and, praise God, that is happening more frequently.
And one more thing. I have begun, oh so slowly, to comprehend the amazing love of the triune God for Chuck Eggerth. There was a time when I did not really think I could comprehend it. Now I'm thinking differently--now I believe he wants me to know and experience and live in that tender, overwhelming love.
The challenge now is to transfer the evening time to the morning, which will involve getting up earlier. I'm not sure I'm up to it, but I'm going to try.
Sheldon Van Auken wrote a book entitled "A Severe Mercy." In it he recounts the death of his beloved wife and all the beauty that terrible, terrible grief ultimately worked into his life. My situation is not tragic like his, but the beauty is similar, and it has stirred my soul.
By the way, you don't need a brain tumor to experience this.
But that's what it took for me!
Saturday, January 31, 2009
January 31, 2009
It's been awhile (a long while) since I posted, but something new has happened. I had an incident at work Monday where I nearly fainted and had to be driven home from work. Actually, I had bloodwork scheduled for that afternoon at Baptist Hospital, so my driver graciously took me there, a trifle early, before taking me home.
While I was there I ran into Sherri and Charles (I called him "Edward") Willard, from waiting room days several months ago. Please keep praying for them. Sometimes Charles has very long, uncommunicative days because of his situation, and that is hard on Sherri.
I was thinking the reaction was due to my first round of post-radiation chemo, which I completed on the 18th of January, but Ed Shaw said the bloodwork was normal. I had an MRI scheduled for the 9th of February, which he moved up to this past Wednesday evening. I called him about that last night, and he told me that everything on the MRI was hunky-dory, or better. I couldn't ask for more than that.
Which leaves as our lone culprit the little item of stress, which can pile up when you are working a different route every day and splitting it four or five different ways and when the post office does not take into account the travel time needed for all the subs to travel from their routes to the part of my route they're carrying. (These are at least partially excuses, which I will critique later.) But the Post Office has been very gracious and has offered me a light duty position as a custodian until I get back on my feet.
I have another appointment with Ed this Tuesday, February 2, and Priscilla and I will ask him some questions about further treatment, as well as determine when I might go back to work.
I think ultimately all of our maladies are worship disorders, either our own or perhaps traceable all the way back to Adam and Eve, but I certainly have had time to reflect on some of mine. I am sure that at work, much of the stress lay in my inability to worship God in the circumstances rather than trusting in my own strength for the task. Since I've been home, I've noticed some others, like watching TV basketball. I turned on the Wake game today with 6 minutes to go and watched them lose, which disappointed me greatly until I remembered who made the players and the gymnasium and the ball and the uniforms and everything else I was watching. At that point, I had to repent and beg forgiveness for misplaced worship. God, of course, who is gracious above all things, willingly granted.
I've had a chance to do some reading this week from three books: "What I Think I Did," by Larry Woiwode; "Amish Grace," by three different authors, none of whose names I recall immediately, and "End of America," by Naomi Wolf, sent to me by my sister Shelley Tea in Seattle. The one that grabbed me first was "Amish Grace," a book detailing the reaction of an Old Order Amish community in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, to the murder/wounding of ten young female students in a school in southern Lancaster County. (The killer also killed himself in the process.) This community takes seriously Christ's command to forgive, and they went to work right away, walking the few miles, if necessary, to the homes of the killer's wife and parents to offer condolences for their pain and loss.
The work was not that easily completed, most notably for the relatives of the girls who were attacked, and the writers point out that the Amish will be constantly needing to reforgive. But as daunting as this task was, it is still relatively easy compared to the often laborious work of forgiving fellow Amish within their church districts, a work complicated by the fact that the "culprits" have the nasty habit of continuing to live. This book probed the whole Amish process and culture of forgiveness, editorial reaction to the forgiveness, and many serious questions about the whole forgiveness/pardon/reconciliation process. And it offered an overview on the entire Amish community that would be well worth the time to read, particularly since the book is only 203 pages long .
The Woiwode book is subtitled "A Season of Survival in Two Acts," and revolves around an extremely cold winter in southwestern North Dakota and various glimpses into Woiwode's past. There is an absolutely amazing intermission section in which Woiwode talks about the influence of nature on his outlook, particularly as it relates to English poet W.H. Auden's statement that "time...worships language" and Christ as the ultimate language/revelation of God the Father, in nature and in other ways. (The Gospel of John refers to Christ as the "logos," or "word" of God.)
I've got to leave you with one quote from the book. "I feel a pressure behind and turn and there are the cottonwoods and the willows at the far end of the street, along the edge of the lake, flying the maidenhair faces of their leaves into the wind, and beyond their crowns of trembling insubstantiality, across the lake dotted with cottonwood pollen, the blue and azure plain abuts against the horizon at infinity." In this all he sees Christ.
The Naomi Wolf book has two subtitles, "Letters of Warning to a Young Patriot" and "A Citizen's Call to Action." I've read thirty-five pages so far. Wolf's thesis is that Fascist states follow the same predicatable pathway to repression, and that the Bush/Cheney administration has started us down this pathway. I am not on the same ideological page as Naomi Wolf, but Shelley has asked me to read it with an open mind and I am doing that. I did check out one internet clip where she says she would oppose Obama if he attempted to use the powers that Bush had arrogated to himself. That is certainly admirable.
I have meandered on long enough, so let me bid you all adieu. Will keep you posted, hopefully more often.
While I was there I ran into Sherri and Charles (I called him "Edward") Willard, from waiting room days several months ago. Please keep praying for them. Sometimes Charles has very long, uncommunicative days because of his situation, and that is hard on Sherri.
I was thinking the reaction was due to my first round of post-radiation chemo, which I completed on the 18th of January, but Ed Shaw said the bloodwork was normal. I had an MRI scheduled for the 9th of February, which he moved up to this past Wednesday evening. I called him about that last night, and he told me that everything on the MRI was hunky-dory, or better. I couldn't ask for more than that.
Which leaves as our lone culprit the little item of stress, which can pile up when you are working a different route every day and splitting it four or five different ways and when the post office does not take into account the travel time needed for all the subs to travel from their routes to the part of my route they're carrying. (These are at least partially excuses, which I will critique later.) But the Post Office has been very gracious and has offered me a light duty position as a custodian until I get back on my feet.
I have another appointment with Ed this Tuesday, February 2, and Priscilla and I will ask him some questions about further treatment, as well as determine when I might go back to work.
I think ultimately all of our maladies are worship disorders, either our own or perhaps traceable all the way back to Adam and Eve, but I certainly have had time to reflect on some of mine. I am sure that at work, much of the stress lay in my inability to worship God in the circumstances rather than trusting in my own strength for the task. Since I've been home, I've noticed some others, like watching TV basketball. I turned on the Wake game today with 6 minutes to go and watched them lose, which disappointed me greatly until I remembered who made the players and the gymnasium and the ball and the uniforms and everything else I was watching. At that point, I had to repent and beg forgiveness for misplaced worship. God, of course, who is gracious above all things, willingly granted.
I've had a chance to do some reading this week from three books: "What I Think I Did," by Larry Woiwode; "Amish Grace," by three different authors, none of whose names I recall immediately, and "End of America," by Naomi Wolf, sent to me by my sister Shelley Tea in Seattle. The one that grabbed me first was "Amish Grace," a book detailing the reaction of an Old Order Amish community in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, to the murder/wounding of ten young female students in a school in southern Lancaster County. (The killer also killed himself in the process.) This community takes seriously Christ's command to forgive, and they went to work right away, walking the few miles, if necessary, to the homes of the killer's wife and parents to offer condolences for their pain and loss.
The work was not that easily completed, most notably for the relatives of the girls who were attacked, and the writers point out that the Amish will be constantly needing to reforgive. But as daunting as this task was, it is still relatively easy compared to the often laborious work of forgiving fellow Amish within their church districts, a work complicated by the fact that the "culprits" have the nasty habit of continuing to live. This book probed the whole Amish process and culture of forgiveness, editorial reaction to the forgiveness, and many serious questions about the whole forgiveness/pardon/reconciliation process. And it offered an overview on the entire Amish community that would be well worth the time to read, particularly since the book is only 203 pages long .
The Woiwode book is subtitled "A Season of Survival in Two Acts," and revolves around an extremely cold winter in southwestern North Dakota and various glimpses into Woiwode's past. There is an absolutely amazing intermission section in which Woiwode talks about the influence of nature on his outlook, particularly as it relates to English poet W.H. Auden's statement that "time...worships language" and Christ as the ultimate language/revelation of God the Father, in nature and in other ways. (The Gospel of John refers to Christ as the "logos," or "word" of God.)
I've got to leave you with one quote from the book. "I feel a pressure behind and turn and there are the cottonwoods and the willows at the far end of the street, along the edge of the lake, flying the maidenhair faces of their leaves into the wind, and beyond their crowns of trembling insubstantiality, across the lake dotted with cottonwood pollen, the blue and azure plain abuts against the horizon at infinity." In this all he sees Christ.
The Naomi Wolf book has two subtitles, "Letters of Warning to a Young Patriot" and "A Citizen's Call to Action." I've read thirty-five pages so far. Wolf's thesis is that Fascist states follow the same predicatable pathway to repression, and that the Bush/Cheney administration has started us down this pathway. I am not on the same ideological page as Naomi Wolf, but Shelley has asked me to read it with an open mind and I am doing that. I did check out one internet clip where she says she would oppose Obama if he attempted to use the powers that Bush had arrogated to himself. That is certainly admirable.
I have meandered on long enough, so let me bid you all adieu. Will keep you posted, hopefully more often.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Jan. 8--Devotional
Folks, this is from a pile of devotionals I wrote a couple years ago for our men's accountability group.
GOSPEL FAITH
Habakkuk 2:4--...the righteous will live by his faith...
Hebrews 10:10 tells us we are made holy by the will of God.
This is foundational. If God hadn't chosen you to be holy, you probably woudn't be reading this, and you certainly wouldn't be comprehending it.
But let me tell you something else. He did not will your holiness in such a way as to render your own will superfluous.
At this point, I need to issue a warning. People have, quite literally, gone straight to hell trying to figure out how God's will and their own will could exist in the same universe.
When they got to hell, they may have arrived at a conclusion. Who knows. But don't bother going there to find out. Just believe they both exist and go from there.
Which is not to say that a few statements can't be made about the situation.
We observe, first of all, that our will exists because God willed it to exist. And we observe, secondly, that God has willed for our will to operate on faith--a faith that he has created, birthed in us, and is now nurturing to fruition. And--we observe that we genuinely have to choose to accept that faith.
In fact, the cardinal truth of sanctification is that the just live by their faith. Habakkuk's statement gets plenty of press in the New Testament.
This is not a life experience for most of us. Most children of God live as if they get into the kingdom by faith and then paddle upstream from there. And we've all tried it. We all keep trying it, from time to time.
But the Bible says we live by faith; that is, our actions derive from the unassailable fact that the Father loves us and has clothed us in the righteousness of Christ.
Let me give you a scenario.
Your boat has hit some rough water. As a matter of fact, it is being tossed thirty and forty feet into the air by waves you had no idea lurked on the little lake of your life. You are in pain; some situation or relationship is lacerating you; a bloody, throbbing wound in your soul is begging for novocaine.
And then you see it--the way out--the anesthetic--the one you've used so many times before, your favorite; the one that works! And you can have it--no-one will know--it's yours for the taking. And the devil fool with the consequences.
(He will, by the way.)
Friends, this is when you need faith--that God loves you, that you are whole, that no Bondo is needed on the car body of your life.
But this is also exactly where faith is hardest to find. Because all this pain that's tearing out your intestines is about some perceived deficiency in your life or soul, and gospel faith, of course, tells you that your soul is as safe and healthy in the arms of Jesus as a nursing baby. But you can't see this. The two strands of your life, actual and experiential, have diverged, and you're like a kid on roller skates with one leg careening south and the other racing insanely north.
And you might lose this battle. Because faith is better applied steering you away from the city the bordello's in than dragging you out the front door of the durned thing.
If you do lose, make up your mind to go back to faith. Remember who died to forgive you. Practice James 5:16. Figure out who you can call to keep you in the right city, or to go through the wrong one with you if that's where the path really leads.
And then again, you might not lose. Because faith, like a muscle, gets stronger every time you exercise it. And if Satan does manage to get you into a bad place, the child of God who's been around the block a few times remembers how much that last soul hit cost him.
And he remembers something else.
Gospel faith means you don't need painkillers.
GOSPEL FAITH
Habakkuk 2:4--...the righteous will live by his faith...
Hebrews 10:10 tells us we are made holy by the will of God.
This is foundational. If God hadn't chosen you to be holy, you probably woudn't be reading this, and you certainly wouldn't be comprehending it.
But let me tell you something else. He did not will your holiness in such a way as to render your own will superfluous.
At this point, I need to issue a warning. People have, quite literally, gone straight to hell trying to figure out how God's will and their own will could exist in the same universe.
When they got to hell, they may have arrived at a conclusion. Who knows. But don't bother going there to find out. Just believe they both exist and go from there.
Which is not to say that a few statements can't be made about the situation.
We observe, first of all, that our will exists because God willed it to exist. And we observe, secondly, that God has willed for our will to operate on faith--a faith that he has created, birthed in us, and is now nurturing to fruition. And--we observe that we genuinely have to choose to accept that faith.
In fact, the cardinal truth of sanctification is that the just live by their faith. Habakkuk's statement gets plenty of press in the New Testament.
This is not a life experience for most of us. Most children of God live as if they get into the kingdom by faith and then paddle upstream from there. And we've all tried it. We all keep trying it, from time to time.
But the Bible says we live by faith; that is, our actions derive from the unassailable fact that the Father loves us and has clothed us in the righteousness of Christ.
Let me give you a scenario.
Your boat has hit some rough water. As a matter of fact, it is being tossed thirty and forty feet into the air by waves you had no idea lurked on the little lake of your life. You are in pain; some situation or relationship is lacerating you; a bloody, throbbing wound in your soul is begging for novocaine.
And then you see it--the way out--the anesthetic--the one you've used so many times before, your favorite; the one that works! And you can have it--no-one will know--it's yours for the taking. And the devil fool with the consequences.
(He will, by the way.)
Friends, this is when you need faith--that God loves you, that you are whole, that no Bondo is needed on the car body of your life.
But this is also exactly where faith is hardest to find. Because all this pain that's tearing out your intestines is about some perceived deficiency in your life or soul, and gospel faith, of course, tells you that your soul is as safe and healthy in the arms of Jesus as a nursing baby. But you can't see this. The two strands of your life, actual and experiential, have diverged, and you're like a kid on roller skates with one leg careening south and the other racing insanely north.
And you might lose this battle. Because faith is better applied steering you away from the city the bordello's in than dragging you out the front door of the durned thing.
If you do lose, make up your mind to go back to faith. Remember who died to forgive you. Practice James 5:16. Figure out who you can call to keep you in the right city, or to go through the wrong one with you if that's where the path really leads.
And then again, you might not lose. Because faith, like a muscle, gets stronger every time you exercise it. And if Satan does manage to get you into a bad place, the child of God who's been around the block a few times remembers how much that last soul hit cost him.
And he remembers something else.
Gospel faith means you don't need painkillers.
Monday, January 5, 2009
1-5-09; Back to Work
Before I start in on the back to work section, let me tell you about the two preceding days. On Saturday, the 3rd, I had my heart set on cleaning out my garage. Alison had her heart set on going ice-skating at the Coliseum Annex. Priscilla (my wife) managed to talk some sense into my head, and the garage is still waiting to be cleaned. I can clean it when Alison goes off to college, if worst comes to worst, but time with one's daughter is simply not something to pass up. We had a wonderful afternoon and evening, and I am very thankful that Priscilla spoke up.
Yesterday, the 4th, we had an amazing adult Bible study from a John Piper book. The teacher ran off copies of one of the chapters, entitled "Faith in Future Grace vs. Anxiety." (Maybe now you know the title of the book, which eludes me.) John Piper related that when he was in high school he had a monstrous fear of public speaking, what he called a "horrible and humiliating disability." This was more than a little stage fright, believe me. He and his mother struggled mightily in prayer, but no breakthroughs came. Finally, John went off to Wheaton College. He knew that in order to graduate, he would have to speak in public.
The first chance came in a Spanish class. Each student was required to give a three-minute speech in Spanish. John memorized his, to eliminate the possibility of losing his place and lapsing into a "paralyzing pause," and he also stood behind a very large lectern which he could hold onto to conceal his shaking. He was obviously frightened. But somehow, he made it through.
A second opportunity came when the school chaplain asked him to lead prayer in chapel. Again terrified, John said "yes" anyway, and once more received grace. From that moment, he vowed never to turn down a speaking engagement because of fear. The rest, of course, is history.
Piper's application was simply that anxiety is lack of faith and often leads to other sins. He said that if you were driving a race car (analagous to our race of life) and someone threw mud onto your windshield, you would turn on the wipers and the windshield washer. He compares the wipers to the Word of God and the washers to the Holy Spirit. He then went on to exposit Matthew 6:25-34, where on four different occasions we are told not to be anxious.
When I went to bed that night, knowing I'd be going back to work in the morning, albeit parttime, I picked up the copy of the article, reread the Scripture passage, and prayed for the Holy Spirit to come. Nothing happened. The harder I struggled, the more fear made a fool out of me. (I know this sounds crazy, but believe me, it happened.) Finally, in desperation, I said simply "Father, I want your name to be glorified."
And then it hit me. That was exactly the same thing Jesus said in John 12:28, a passage my pastor had spoken about that morning. Jesus there was struggling with much more than I was--the huge weight of the cross loomed before him. My struggle was small by comparison, but still very real.
And it occurred to me--there was no way the old Chuck Eggerth could have produced that thought. It obviously came from the Spirit of Christ inside me. Suddenly I realized I had resources to deal with the situation.
Then another image came to me, a picture of myself at the post office with Jesus shining inside me, a light so bright people would have to know who it was . My struggle to that point had been selfish, wondering how I would look to folks who knew the Chuck Eggerth from four months ago. Now I had a reason to go back to work that didn't involve my ego. And the fears left me. I was able to relax and go to sleep.
And when I got up, I went to work. I had a couple of panicky moments, where it oppeared to me that the carriers who were assigned to finish what I didn't carry would be standing around waiting for me to get the mail ready, but I made up my mind to go one step at a time. It worked out, and I was able to finish my job.
Yesterday, the 4th, we had an amazing adult Bible study from a John Piper book. The teacher ran off copies of one of the chapters, entitled "Faith in Future Grace vs. Anxiety." (Maybe now you know the title of the book, which eludes me.) John Piper related that when he was in high school he had a monstrous fear of public speaking, what he called a "horrible and humiliating disability." This was more than a little stage fright, believe me. He and his mother struggled mightily in prayer, but no breakthroughs came. Finally, John went off to Wheaton College. He knew that in order to graduate, he would have to speak in public.
The first chance came in a Spanish class. Each student was required to give a three-minute speech in Spanish. John memorized his, to eliminate the possibility of losing his place and lapsing into a "paralyzing pause," and he also stood behind a very large lectern which he could hold onto to conceal his shaking. He was obviously frightened. But somehow, he made it through.
A second opportunity came when the school chaplain asked him to lead prayer in chapel. Again terrified, John said "yes" anyway, and once more received grace. From that moment, he vowed never to turn down a speaking engagement because of fear. The rest, of course, is history.
Piper's application was simply that anxiety is lack of faith and often leads to other sins. He said that if you were driving a race car (analagous to our race of life) and someone threw mud onto your windshield, you would turn on the wipers and the windshield washer. He compares the wipers to the Word of God and the washers to the Holy Spirit. He then went on to exposit Matthew 6:25-34, where on four different occasions we are told not to be anxious.
When I went to bed that night, knowing I'd be going back to work in the morning, albeit parttime, I picked up the copy of the article, reread the Scripture passage, and prayed for the Holy Spirit to come. Nothing happened. The harder I struggled, the more fear made a fool out of me. (I know this sounds crazy, but believe me, it happened.) Finally, in desperation, I said simply "Father, I want your name to be glorified."
And then it hit me. That was exactly the same thing Jesus said in John 12:28, a passage my pastor had spoken about that morning. Jesus there was struggling with much more than I was--the huge weight of the cross loomed before him. My struggle was small by comparison, but still very real.
And it occurred to me--there was no way the old Chuck Eggerth could have produced that thought. It obviously came from the Spirit of Christ inside me. Suddenly I realized I had resources to deal with the situation.
Then another image came to me, a picture of myself at the post office with Jesus shining inside me, a light so bright people would have to know who it was . My struggle to that point had been selfish, wondering how I would look to folks who knew the Chuck Eggerth from four months ago. Now I had a reason to go back to work that didn't involve my ego. And the fears left me. I was able to relax and go to sleep.
And when I got up, I went to work. I had a couple of panicky moments, where it oppeared to me that the carriers who were assigned to finish what I didn't carry would be standing around waiting for me to get the mail ready, but I made up my mind to go one step at a time. It worked out, and I was able to finish my job.
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