When the Holidays Aren’t So Happy
For many, Christmas is sleigh bells, mistletoe, eggnog and presents – in other words, it’s all Ho!, Ho!, Ho!. For others it’s the hardest time of the year. If you are in the second camp – and you are wondering if you have the energy to make it to January – keep reading. If you are in the first group, keep reading as well, because you need to know how hard this time of year is for many around you. It took me an embarrassingly long time to grasp the level of pain December brings. Thankfully, at some point I realized that that something lay behind the spike in pastoral emergencies we face every time this year – e.g., domestic violence, marital breakdowns, suicides, drug and alcohol abuse, etc.What’s going on? Why are Christmas and New Year so difficult for so many? Here are a few of the reasons:
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A Mentor is Dying
For over twenty years I’ve had the privilege of serving on the board of an international leadership development organization called Scholar Leaders International. (Note: earlier this group was called CISF). The mission of ScholarLeaders is to identify and then invest in the best and brightest young and proven Christian leaders from Africa, Asia, Latin America and the former Soviet Bloc countries. Our goal is to help Level Four leaders – i.e., those who will write the important books, lead denominations and NGOs and pastor pastors.
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Better – and More Beautiful – for Having Been Broken
They say that every week a pastor wrestles over many different sermons: there is the one he writes; there is the one he actually delivers; there is the one that the people actually hear and understand; and – finally – there is the best one, which is the one he preaches to himself as he drives home on Sunday afternoon.
I feel that way after learning about Kintsugi, the Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with lacquer resin dusted or mixed with gold.
As you can see below, the broken object becomes more beautiful than the one that wasn’t broken. This would have been a perfect addition to the Broken series!
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It’s Advent, Whatever That Means
Advent is one of those words that everyone hears – and associates with Christmas – but few can actually tell you what it means. It’s actually much more than a descriptor of December in general or a reminder of Christ’s birth 2000 years ago.
The word “Advent” – which comes from the Latin word meaning “coming” – was not associated with the coming of Christ until the 6thcentury. And at that point the focus was far more on his second coming than his first. And they are quite different things. When Christ returns it will not be as a helpless and peaceful baby, but as a conquering king and judge. Because of this, Advent was not primarily a time of joy but of repentance and longing. It was not until the Middle Ages, when Advent was explicitly linked with the birth of Jesus, that it became a season of celebration.
Today, Advent is both a time of remembrance and anticipation. The first two Sundays of this four-week season are spent focusing on Christ’s return, whereas the second two reflect back on his incarnation. This forward-reverse tension is an important one for us to reflect on, because that is the nature of the times that we live in. The promised Messiah has come, but he is coming again. The kingdom of God is here, but not fully. The war has been won, but the fighting continues. By taking four weeks every year to observe Advent, we remind ourselves of this tension.
So as Christmas approaches – as your calendar fills up, decorations take over the mantel, the fridge fills with food and presents crowd the tree – take some time to reflect on the birth of our Savior and to prepare yourself for the day that he returns.
Two Steps Forward, One Back – Again
I’m been having one of those weeks where I sense God is more concerned with my patience than my balance.
There is good news. After nearly aceing the Burg Balance test a week ago, my score climbed from an initial 17/56 six weeks ago to a 55/56 last week. I graduated to the next level – the Functional Gate Assessment, where I scored a 28 out of 30. That’s great news, though it led my physical therapist to introduce a whole new set of balance challenges, turning my therapy sessions into something akin to the NFL combines. Suffice it to say, I will not be mastering the new drills anytime soon.
The challenges came in two other forms: my new glasses and my voice.
- The glasses: Both eyes see well and have full motion but they are not cooperating with each other, which leaves me seeing double or something like it. It’s not fun. Neither are the glases. Those of you who made the transition to bi-focals (or progressives) know that they take a while to adjust to. Well, my prism glasses are about ten times more challenging. I was told by the neuro-optomistrist and my occupational therapist that the glasses would be hard to get used to. They were not lying. I can wear them for about five minutes at a time.
- My voice: Twice in the last week I’ve seen an Otolaryngologists – that is, a doctor whose specializes in the vocal chords (or vocal folds, as those in the know seem to call them.) His brochure says that he specializes in helping “professional voice-users,” which I guess includes me. He’s a nice guy and clearly knows a million times more about vocal folds than I do, but the visits include him sticking a camera down my throat which violates several articles of the Geneva Convention. (Sheri ran out of the room when he pulled it out the first time). I’ve known for some time that my left vocal fold was paralyzed by the stroke and that it may or may not “turn back on.” I’ve also known that I’ve been left with an anemic cough. What I didn’t appreciate is how important a good cough is, and how sore (and swollen) my throat could get if I coughed really hard with a really weak cough…especially when you pick up a common cold as I did this week. I’ve been silent for the last 24 hours in order to bring as much voice to preaching this weekend as possible. Pray that I can talk clearly and audibly this weekend, and pray for the left vocal fold to turn back on.
Finally, one last – and somewhat random – thought. At dinner last night, with friends who’ve been navigating their own set of challenges, I picked up a memorable line. At each turn of their crisis they reminded each other, “remember, the children are watching.”
We will all get knocked down. The question is, how do we respond, and what does our response teach those who are looking on, especially our own children.
Press On,
Mike
Family and Friends
I’m in the twilight zone that follows a major event. I can go for increasingly long periods of time having forgotten that my Dad died. And then I remember. The good news is the kick in the stomach is not what it was days ago. And the kicks have not been as harsh as I expected.
And I’m OK with that. I did most of my grieving ten months ago when I first learned about the cancer and his prognosis. And I’ve grieved off and on since then. In light of that I’m trying not to feel guilty about not feeling worse.
When a spouse, parent or good-friend is about to die after an extended illness, I try to get to the ones closest to them and say, “Make me a promise. When they pass, you will not feel guilty if you feel relieved.” Often times they have already been grieving and now see the prolonged suffering of the one they love as something that needs to end. They may even start hoping that death comes and pray to that end. Only to feel guilty later on. I ask them to promise me that they will not feel guilty if they do not feel bad. I am trying to allow myself that same grace.
Over the last few days I’ve been hanging out with two very good friends – Bob Thomas and Roger Berry, the first from the Bay Area the second from Austin, TX. We get together once a year if not more. After they learned about my stroke they offered to fly in right away but I asked them to hold off, reasoning that they’d visit me in the hospital for about 20 minutes, I’d fall asleep and then they’d go play golf or go out to eat. Selfishly I asked for a month or two so I could join them at least on part of the outings. (Last week in therapy I tried swinging a 7 iron. It wasn’t pretty, not that it ever was. )
Anyway, they were in town and as we generally do, we spent much of the time in deep conversation about our lives. We use a list of questions to prompt us to move past the surface. In fact, we type out our answers in advance and mail them to each other so we can drill down on the areas that need the most attention. I have included this list of questions in this blog before, but I include them below all the same.
Master List of Questions
Relationship with God:
· On a scale of 1 – 7, rate your relationship with Christ right now?
· Are you trending positively or negatively?
· What has God been teaching you over the last year?
· How many days a week do you have some sort of private devotional time?
· On a scale of 1 – 7, how would you rate those times?
Relationship with Wife
· On a scale of 1 – 7, what would you give your marriage right now?
· What would your wife give it?
· What one or two things could you do to be a better husband?
· How often do you pray together?
Relationship with Children:
Ministry:
· If you were to get the chance to speak once to a million believers, what would you speak on? Another way to put this question is: What is something that you believe the Holy Spirit has taught you, that you are passionate to pass on to others?
Work
· On a scale of 1 – 7, how much do you like your job?
· What do you like most and least about your job?
· How many more years do you believe you will do it?
· If you could change one thing about it what would it be?
Money:
· On a scale of 1 – 7, do you feel like you are being a good steward with all God has entrusted to you?
·
General Well Being
· What has been the high point and low point of your last year or so?
· What gives you energy/recharges your emotional batteries?
· What are your favorite recreational activities?
· What is draining you? Do you have any on-going / besetting sin in your life?
· Where do you need more accountability in your life?
· Do you get enough physical activity?
· What are you worrying about?
· What are one or two things that you would like to start doing or do more consistently?
Relationships:
· Which relationships are most stressful for you right now?
· Do you have any / enough relationships that aren’t stressful?
· Other than your spouse, parents and children, who has had the biggest impact on your life?
· Who has had the biggest impact on you in the last ten years?
Reading:
· What books have you read recently?
· What books have made the biggest impact on your life?
Miscellany
· How might we help you or pray for you over the next 90 days?
· What 3 things in the next 90 days will make the greatest impact in your life for 2013?
· What 3 measurable priorities do you want to accomplish in the next 90 days? Next 180?
· What are three things that you are thankful for?
Are you hiding anything we really should know about?
What is your biggest regret at the moment?
The deal is, any question can be asked and every question must be answered.
Many fear that if they were fully known they would be rejected. Not true. God knows all and loves. And it’s possible to have other such relationships. No secrets.
It is wonderful to be fully known and accepted. Do you have such friends?
My Dad Has Gone to be With God
When I woke up this morning I saw that I had a phone message from my brother. He had called at 12:56 AM. I didn’t have to wonder why. Phones that ring in the middle of the night seldom bring good news.
I waited a couple hours before calling back, reasoning that if he’d been making calls at 1 AM, he probably wasn’t up early. When I reached him he confirmed what I already knew: sometime shortly after midnight my Father had “slipped away.” The hospice staff said that when they checked on him around midnight he was resting comfortably. When they checked on him ten minutes later he was gone. They told my Mom they were not surprised. They had heard that one more child was due to show up. Their guess was that my Dad would hold out until he last of the five kids had been in to say good-bye. Steve, my youngest brother, had arrived on Saturday.
How do we respond to the death of a loved one who knows Christ – and is thus promised Eternal Life? Some say we rejoice. I protest. That’s too simple of an answer. It’s not complete.
Death is ugly. It reduced my Dad to a shell of who he’d been. The man lying in the hospital bed was not the giant I knew as a child; not the man who hit more homeruns for the company softball team (of which I was the five year old bat boy) than anyone else; not the guy who got up early, worked hard and helped put five kids through college and grad school. Cancer and chemo diminished him. Death destroys. My Mom told me that he fought hard to maintain his dignity throughout his fight with cancer. “When he lost that I think he just gave up.”
Death is ugly. For those in Christ it has lost its sting, but it is still a sign of the curse. It has been defeated but not yet destroyed. We await that (I Cor. 15:26f).
It’s too simple to say that our response is “to rejoice.” There is that side of it, and not simply because it brings an end to suffering, but because it allows us to leave the world of the dying and enter the land of the living. It allows us to fully enter into the presence of God.
How do we respond to the death of a loved one? I turn to Acts 8:2 for direction. It’s an easy passage to overlook but it has much to offer. It comes immediately after the stoning of Stephen. As you may know, shortly after Pentecost the early church grew rapidly and enjoyed great favor with just about everyone….but then the persecution began. There was a 300 year, Empire-wide effort to wipe out Christianity. The first victim (martyr) was Stephen. He was stoned.
As you may know, his death came after he gave an impassioned speech to an agitated mop. For a while it looked as if he had won most of them over. He might have made it out alive had he stopped with the history lesson. But he kept speaking, directing his comments to them. Let me quote from Acts 7:51 and following, which I am taking from Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase, The Message:
“And you continue, so bullheaded! Calluses on your hearts, flaps on your ears! Deliberately ignoring the Holy Spirit, you’re just like your ancestors. Was there ever a prophet who didn’t get the same treatment? Your ancestors killed anyone who dared talk about the coming of the Just One. And you’ve kept up the family tradition—traitors and murderers, all of you. You had God’s Law handed to you by angels—gift-wrapped!—and you squandered it!”
At that point they went wild, a rioting mob of catcalls and whistles and invective. But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, hardly noticed—he only had eyes for God, whom he saw in all his glory with Jesus standing at his side. He said, “Oh! I see heaven wide open and the Son of Man standing at God’s side!”
Yelling and hissing, the mob drowned him out. Now in full stampede, they dragged him out of town and pelted him with rocks.
Stephen died under a shower of rocks. It was quite a way to go out: he offered powerful testimony to the work of Christ; he stood fearless in the face of an angry crowd; he saw Jesus (who was normally seated at the right hand of the Father) stand to welcome him into heaven; and then he died.
How did his friends response to Stephen’s death? Acts 8:2 gives us the answer. There we read:
Godly men buried Stephen and mourned deeply for him.
The translation I first memorized said, “Righteous men buried Stephen and wept.”
Did they cry for Stephen? Hardly. The King of the Universe had stood to welcome him into Heaven. They were believers. They knew it was all good for Stephen! They wept for themselves. His gain was their loss.
My Dad was not Stephen, and he would be the first to say so. But he was justified by the death of the King of the Universe, and so he has been welcomed into Heaven. There is no need to cry for him. But his gain is our loss. I’m glad his suffering is over, and thankful that he lived until I was in my 50s (few have that privilege). But it’s OK to weep.
Happy Father’s Day
Happy Father’s Day to all the Dads out there. I hope it’s a good one for you. Please do not underestimate your importance. God’s plan depends on men acting like men: courage, selflessness, leadership, civility, discipline, initiative. Seek to live like the second Adam (Jesus) not the first . It will make such a difference to so many – especially those you love.
I’m particularly focused on Father’s Day this year for two reasons:
My own Father is slipping away:
- Yesterday the hospice doc said he thought my Dad had three days left. One of my sisters and one of my brothers are standing vigil with my Mom as I write this. I’m ready for the call announcing the end of his suffering and struggles for at least two reasons: I am confident that my Dad will be welcomed by Christ – and that I’ll see him again.
- Nothing more needs to be said: Nine months ago – shortly after my Father was diagnosed with cancer, and during a time when we thought he had five weeks to live – we had a great conversation. He told me: that he loved me; that he was proud of me; and he apologized for any times when that was not clear. I asked for his forgiveness for my missteps as well. I am mystified by the power his words of affirmation had on me. (Years earlier I saved a voice mail where he called – which was unusual – and left a message – even more unusual. As he was signing off he casually said, “I love you and I’m proud of you.” I had not heard those words in some time, was shocked to hear them and started to weep. From time to time I’d replay them, almost always to the same effect. At one point I expressed to Sheri, “I don’t get it. I’m nearly fifty years old. I hardly ever see him or talk to him. I am fairly independent – I do not seem to need the affirmation of others. Why do his words have so much power in my life?” I am not sure I know the answer even now. But they do.) Which is why I am so glad to be able to say, “I heard from him what I needed to hear and I said what I needed to say.” There is no unfinished work there. (On this Father’s Day, let me encourage you to say what needs to be said, and let me encourage all the dads to not underestimate the power of their words in the lives of their children.)
My Boys Have Stepped Up: The last two months have brought change. It started on the night of my stroke. Early, when I still thought all I had was the flu – I got out of bed and was collapsed on the floor. The next thing I knew I was being picked up and set back in bed. I was pretty out of it at the time, but I knew two things right away: these are not Sheri’s arms lifting me, they are one of the boys – and this is a first. I’ve picked them up before – I’ve held them – but they’ve never held me. This is a “cats in the cradle” moment.
Other firsts followed. For the most part, Sheri was the one on point 24/7. I’ve never had any doubts that if I went down she would be there – calm, caring, protective, etc. – but it was fun to see her in action, modeling sacrificial love and devotion. But the boys also stepped up. They logged hours at the hospital – keeping me company, typing up my blog, reading me my cards and emails, pushing my wheel chair through downtown Chicago so I could get a real meal or a real cup of coffee. And then they were there for me at home. For a while I could not be left alone. They “babysat “ me, held me up as I took walks (stumbled) around the block, reminded me to take my meds, drove me to therapy or the doctor’s office, took care of the house, etc. All of this was bittersweet. It is not fun being so profoundly needy. But it was /is fun to watch them step up. They sacrificially did what was asked and took initiative beyond that.
When the old man went down, they stepped up and started acting like men. Later today I will probably get some gifts for Father’ Day. But none will mean as much to me as the gifts they’ve given me over the last eight weeks.
Some Father’s Days are more significant than others. This is a big one for me. I hope it’s a good one for you.
Prayer Requests: Thanks to the many of you who have been praying for me / us. At the moment I’d like to make some specific requests:
- Eye site: My vision remains a bit off. This makes reading hard and driving impossible. It continues to improve. Pray that I keep making progress.
- Coordination: There are two issues here. First, I need my left hand to cooperate a bit more. My typing has dropped from 60 plus words/ minute to 10-20. There are times when being a half inch off isn’t much. And there are times – and typing is one – where being a half inch off means a lot! Second, I continue to veer to the left, especially when I am tired. It’s much better than a few weeks ago. I am hopeful that I get back to 100 percent.
- God’s Power: Finally, please pray that I can embrace and embody Paul’s comments in 2 Cor. 12:-10: “But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
Press On,
Mike
My Dad
Kudzu, sweet tea and a church on every corner – it must be the south. A razorback decal on every other truck – it must be Arkansas. And it is. Sheri drove me down so I could get some more time with my Dad. Here is a quick update:
- My Dad is in clearly in his last days. He sleeps most of the time and barely eats, but there are a few moments when he is lucid and we’ve been able to talk. I’m very glad that there is nothing left unsaid between us. His final words of affirmation and love for me add to a great conversation we had shortly after his diagnosis.
- My Mom is doing pretty well. We’ve all had time to prepare. Her days are long as she spends most of her time with my Dad – even though he sleeps 23 hours a day. I was the first child down this round. My two sisters fly in today. My brothers will roll in later. Our goal is to have someone with my Mom from this point through his home-going. (By the way, yesterday my Dad said, “at this point, living longer has no value. When I die I get to stop suffering and go to heaven.” He is ready to go).
- I went to church with my Mom. They were supposed to meet at a picnic rounds near the lake for a joint service / baptism and picnic (sound familiar?). But heavy storms led to a change of plans. In place of plan A they held an indoor picnic complete with a birthday cake for the church – according to tradition, its Pentecost Sunday, the day the church was born.
- The time here has been slow but good. My Dad’s brother and his wife (Uncle Mark and Aunt Janet) were here. It’s been quite a while since I last saw them. I’m glad to have had time with them and get a few more stories about my Dad. Sheri is down with the flu – which delays our return given that she is our only driver, but she’s feeling better already.
Press On,
Mike
Two Steps Forward, One Step …
If you’ve been reading this blog you know that my progress has been steady and significant. In fact, in my last post, I noted that we are wrestling with a bit of guilt over how quickly I am progressing versus everyone else in the hospital. Well, in the last few days there have been some “wrinkles.”
Absence of Pain: One of the things I discovered this weekend is that I have some diminished feeling on my right side. To be more specific, I cannot feel hot. I was rinsing my right hand and when I put my left hand into the water, I realized that it was too hot to touch. (That’s a problem). Also this weekend, I realized that I have some dysesthesia. At a doctor’s appointment I described some odd sensations on my right side and she said, “This is very common for people with the type of injury you sustained. It’s called dysesthesia.” My response was, “You mean there is a name for this?” Dysesthesia means I have some altered sensations. In my case, I don’t like the feeling of water on my leg. It could be that this is a phase I’m going through as my brain heals. It could also be that I’ve had these challenges throughout the last six weeks but was less aware of it. Clearly, the foggy feeling that I’ve had is lifting. I no longer feel like I’m on lots of cold medicine.
My Dad: I’m writing this entry from Perryville, MO. Sheri is driving me down to see my Dad. Three days ago he checked himself into hospice. This was a small surprise. We had hoped he was going to make it through the summer. I’m glad for a few more days with him. Death is an enemy, but in Christ it has lost its sting. I’m confident I’ll see my Dad in heaven. Thanks for your prayers.
Press On,
Mike