Trey passed away Thursday at St. Jude's in Memphis. His family was by his side. Trey's disability wasn't fatal. It's just that with Ataxia-Telangiectasia comes the increased risk of lymphoma and that took it's toll on his weakened body.
I remember cutting the grass one Saturday and found a mostly hidden area on the side of my yard where a beautiful peony flower was growing. It was hidden from the street and the sidewalk. You would have to be looking for it to see it there. I wondered if God plants these disabled children among us and their broken bodies sometimes hide their beauty from my view. They're there, over to the side, hidden from the mainstream and God sees their beauty and they glorify Him in ways I don't understand. I want to see Christ in their faces. I do not want to miss their beauty.
Now Trey smiles like he has never smiled before. He moves purposefully and without the aid of a 200 pound wheelchair. I can only imagine his joy as he sees the one who died for him. I bet he's running and dancing. I love you little buddy.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Trey
A young man is battling for life tonight in a hospital in Memphis, Tennessee. I did several wheelchairs for him over the years. In fact, he was one of the first children I saw at clinic when I got back into this business over ten years ago. He was 13 then. I liked him immediately as I am sure everyone does who ever met him.
He has kind of a mischievous grin and would take you by surprise with some of his comments. He isn't hard to understand though you have to listen with both ears. He has a rare disease (about one person in 3 million are affected) called Ataxia-Telangiectasia or A-T for short. I cannot be sure but I think mischievous may run deeper than his grin because there was that time he ran his power chair straight into the family pool. His dad dove in and released his son from the seat belt and chest harness and brought him up to safety, thank God. Of course I was brought in to diagnose why the wheelchair wouldn't run - that was a no-brainer.
My friend and those who suffer with A-T have an increased risk of lymphoma or other cancers and their suppressed immune system limits treatment options. His mom has been at his side and I heard that his dad has been called and is probably there too. It's difficult to know how to pray. When I consider my friend struggling I want more than anything for him to be free. Not just from pain but from from the grasp of this disease completely. I imagine him dancing before the Lord in complete bliss because Jesus is there and he is set free and his body finally expresses his unrestrained joy. But, if our Father should call him home, I know his mom and dad would grieve terribly. So, I bowed my head and let the tears fall, grateful that His Spirit knows how to pray when I don't (Romans 8:26). Maybe I didn't cover everything but I trust Him who loves this young man much more than we can imagine and knows the pain his parents are feeling too. I love you little buddy.
He has kind of a mischievous grin and would take you by surprise with some of his comments. He isn't hard to understand though you have to listen with both ears. He has a rare disease (about one person in 3 million are affected) called Ataxia-Telangiectasia or A-T for short. I cannot be sure but I think mischievous may run deeper than his grin because there was that time he ran his power chair straight into the family pool. His dad dove in and released his son from the seat belt and chest harness and brought him up to safety, thank God. Of course I was brought in to diagnose why the wheelchair wouldn't run - that was a no-brainer.
My friend and those who suffer with A-T have an increased risk of lymphoma or other cancers and their suppressed immune system limits treatment options. His mom has been at his side and I heard that his dad has been called and is probably there too. It's difficult to know how to pray. When I consider my friend struggling I want more than anything for him to be free. Not just from pain but from from the grasp of this disease completely. I imagine him dancing before the Lord in complete bliss because Jesus is there and he is set free and his body finally expresses his unrestrained joy. But, if our Father should call him home, I know his mom and dad would grieve terribly. So, I bowed my head and let the tears fall, grateful that His Spirit knows how to pray when I don't (Romans 8:26). Maybe I didn't cover everything but I trust Him who loves this young man much more than we can imagine and knows the pain his parents are feeling too. I love you little buddy.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Burglarized again
(A friend asked me to post this note here. It happened 6 months ago and I wrote it then.)
I think this is the 3rd or 4th time this has happened to me. Today’s burglary was the first in a long time. I was at work and got a call about 2:15 p.m. from my neighbor to tell me that he had Trudie my dog sitting on his couch. At first I couldn’t figure it out. The cleaning people were coming but they said they probably wouldn’t be there until 4:00. Plus they’re used to letting her out the back door to roam in the fenced back yard while they work. No, if Trudie had gotten out and went to a neighbor’s house she had to get out the front door. Someone had to have opened the front door.
I drove toward my home and my neighbor called me back to say indeed, the front door was opened and obviously not with a key. He called the police and they arrived shortly after I did. Not much appeared to be gone; a TV, DVD player, a gold ring and my “gig bag” filled with microphones, cords and other musical stuff. All the guitars were here and the place wasn’t ransacked. My neighbors showed up with Trudie and I was grateful for their kindness and glad to see my dog.
Now as I sit on the couch wondering about the events I think, how is Christ glorified in this? I remember a conversation I had with another neighbor last Saturday. He said he was a Deist. He believed a Creator began the entire world and cosmos but basically stepped back at that point letting us humans live out our days as we willed. I guess if I was a Deist I would not think about Christ in this situation. At best I would just have a que sera sera attitude and go about replacing my stuff. I would also hope the perpetrator got what he deserved. But I am not a Deist. I’m a Christ-Follower. A disciple. The Bible doesn’t leave room for Deism. It says that my times are in His hands (Ps. 31:15) and that He searches me and knows me and knows when I sit down and rise up (Ps. 139:1-2). He perceives my thoughts from afar and knows what I’m going to say before it is on my tongue (Ps. 139:2,4). Well, basically when I read that entire Psalm 139 it blows me away with His intimate closeness.
So I pray. I thank God for sparing my little dog today (you non-dog people may not get it) and I thank Him for the kindness of my neighbors. I thank Him for the possessions I do have left and secretly wonder if His grace would carry me through if the Martin D-42 guitar was part of the robber’s booty. I think of the guy using the crowbar on my door and start to get angry. Then I think of the things I have stolen when I was younger and I soften a bit. I think of the rock I hurled in juvenile delinquency through the window of Russell Lapre’s house and I’m ashamed. I think of the more secret sins that I’ve spoken of to only a few and I picture Jesus bearing them all. He deserved everything good and got the worst. I imagine His Father pouring His wrath like a torrent on Christ because of what I did. Because of what I am.
“Father, forgive the robber. Open his eyes and lead him to Christ, call him to yourself”. I imagine him somewhere, when the light of God’s love and forgiveness dawn in his heart. I can see the tears streaming down his face as he knows the touch of a Savior whose gentle touch can wipe away every sin. And I long for Christ’s heart to be formed in him….. and me.
I think this is the 3rd or 4th time this has happened to me. Today’s burglary was the first in a long time. I was at work and got a call about 2:15 p.m. from my neighbor to tell me that he had Trudie my dog sitting on his couch. At first I couldn’t figure it out. The cleaning people were coming but they said they probably wouldn’t be there until 4:00. Plus they’re used to letting her out the back door to roam in the fenced back yard while they work. No, if Trudie had gotten out and went to a neighbor’s house she had to get out the front door. Someone had to have opened the front door.
I drove toward my home and my neighbor called me back to say indeed, the front door was opened and obviously not with a key. He called the police and they arrived shortly after I did. Not much appeared to be gone; a TV, DVD player, a gold ring and my “gig bag” filled with microphones, cords and other musical stuff. All the guitars were here and the place wasn’t ransacked. My neighbors showed up with Trudie and I was grateful for their kindness and glad to see my dog.
Now as I sit on the couch wondering about the events I think, how is Christ glorified in this? I remember a conversation I had with another neighbor last Saturday. He said he was a Deist. He believed a Creator began the entire world and cosmos but basically stepped back at that point letting us humans live out our days as we willed. I guess if I was a Deist I would not think about Christ in this situation. At best I would just have a que sera sera attitude and go about replacing my stuff. I would also hope the perpetrator got what he deserved. But I am not a Deist. I’m a Christ-Follower. A disciple. The Bible doesn’t leave room for Deism. It says that my times are in His hands (Ps. 31:15) and that He searches me and knows me and knows when I sit down and rise up (Ps. 139:1-2). He perceives my thoughts from afar and knows what I’m going to say before it is on my tongue (Ps. 139:2,4). Well, basically when I read that entire Psalm 139 it blows me away with His intimate closeness.
So I pray. I thank God for sparing my little dog today (you non-dog people may not get it) and I thank Him for the kindness of my neighbors. I thank Him for the possessions I do have left and secretly wonder if His grace would carry me through if the Martin D-42 guitar was part of the robber’s booty. I think of the guy using the crowbar on my door and start to get angry. Then I think of the things I have stolen when I was younger and I soften a bit. I think of the rock I hurled in juvenile delinquency through the window of Russell Lapre’s house and I’m ashamed. I think of the more secret sins that I’ve spoken of to only a few and I picture Jesus bearing them all. He deserved everything good and got the worst. I imagine His Father pouring His wrath like a torrent on Christ because of what I did. Because of what I am.
“Father, forgive the robber. Open his eyes and lead him to Christ, call him to yourself”. I imagine him somewhere, when the light of God’s love and forgiveness dawn in his heart. I can see the tears streaming down his face as he knows the touch of a Savior whose gentle touch can wipe away every sin. And I long for Christ’s heart to be formed in him….. and me.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Latter Day Saints
Well, it was kinda sad last night when my LDS friends left. I called them Mormon's but my friend Laura told me that it was more PC to refer to them as "latter day saints" or LDS's. That doesn't have the same ring to it or roll off my tongue as easily but I'm trying not to offend. Anyway, I will no longer be seeing them regularly and I'm a little bummed.
About 2 or 3 months ago these two fellas showed up walking down the narrow lane behind my house. I'm up on my back deck and spot the telltale short-sleeved white shirts and ties. Oh yes, and the name tags. They were looking for my neighbor, I think they were following a lead or a referral but I don't know how that works in the Mor... I mean LDS church. Anyway, I was hoping they'd take me cause I was sure I could pound away relentlessly at their theology until they came to Christ right there on my deck and then asked me to disciple them ongoing. Sure enough, they visited, we had a nice discussion and though we disagreed I liked these guys.
About a month later they showed up again. I was truly surprised because I had done a little more reading and felt like I wasn't a great prospect for their church. They place a high value on marriage and big families and neither were in my future. I figured they spent most of their time with younger couples and maybe those with greater kingdom potential, whatever that is. So, I invited them in and we talked about all kinds of stuff. It appeared they really weren't trying to convert me. I started thinking, hey.... what's wrong with me? Don't they want me? I WANT TO BE A MORMON, D*#% IT!!
Well, we talked on and on. One asked about my guitar collection and I sensed he had some musical training. Sure enough he was an accomplished trumpet player and had even been a member of the Blue Knights, a drum corps from Denver. He said he always wanted to learn to play the guitar. Hmmm..... I thought, I love to teach guitar, I used to do it all the time. I said, "would you like to learn?"
So that's how we started meeting regularly. Every Wednesday night in my home they would come. Me and "Blue Knight" would practice guitar and his friend would read a book. Once he would read the book of Mormon, another time it was the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy. Blue Knight and I labored over finger picking, chords, Amazing Grace and the pentatonic minor scale. Every once in awhile I thought, wait a minute.... I'm not doing my job. I need to point out to them the error of their doctrine. Don't you know God doesn't have flesh and bone? Jesus was never Lucifer's brother, for crying out loud!!! Well, I just didn't think that was the voice of the Holy Spirit.
We continued for a few weeks. "Reader" read a few books he borrowed from me and "Blue Knight" practiced consistently. He's going to be a good guitar player if he hangs in there. We talked and actually did delve into their doctrine a bit. I always felt like we went around in circles when we did that. I also felt like it wasn't my role to try to figure out if these guys were saved. Do they know Him? Are they Christians? They professed to know Him. Maybe a few more weeks and we would have spent more time examining the scriptures and working it out. Maybe God was ready to move them on to a more obedient servant who would more diligently work on them. I planted seeds. Or maybe I watered. I tried to always point to Jesus Christ and his completely forever finished work on the cross. No Aaronic priesthood is necessary any longer. There remains no more sacrifice for sins or any work we can do. It's all Jesus. Man, it is all Jesus!
I really like those guys.....
Note: "Reader" and "Blue Knight" are not their real names.
About 2 or 3 months ago these two fellas showed up walking down the narrow lane behind my house. I'm up on my back deck and spot the telltale short-sleeved white shirts and ties. Oh yes, and the name tags. They were looking for my neighbor, I think they were following a lead or a referral but I don't know how that works in the Mor... I mean LDS church. Anyway, I was hoping they'd take me cause I was sure I could pound away relentlessly at their theology until they came to Christ right there on my deck and then asked me to disciple them ongoing. Sure enough, they visited, we had a nice discussion and though we disagreed I liked these guys.
About a month later they showed up again. I was truly surprised because I had done a little more reading and felt like I wasn't a great prospect for their church. They place a high value on marriage and big families and neither were in my future. I figured they spent most of their time with younger couples and maybe those with greater kingdom potential, whatever that is. So, I invited them in and we talked about all kinds of stuff. It appeared they really weren't trying to convert me. I started thinking, hey.... what's wrong with me? Don't they want me? I WANT TO BE A MORMON, D*#% IT!!
Well, we talked on and on. One asked about my guitar collection and I sensed he had some musical training. Sure enough he was an accomplished trumpet player and had even been a member of the Blue Knights, a drum corps from Denver. He said he always wanted to learn to play the guitar. Hmmm..... I thought, I love to teach guitar, I used to do it all the time. I said, "would you like to learn?"
So that's how we started meeting regularly. Every Wednesday night in my home they would come. Me and "Blue Knight" would practice guitar and his friend would read a book. Once he would read the book of Mormon, another time it was the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy. Blue Knight and I labored over finger picking, chords, Amazing Grace and the pentatonic minor scale. Every once in awhile I thought, wait a minute.... I'm not doing my job. I need to point out to them the error of their doctrine. Don't you know God doesn't have flesh and bone? Jesus was never Lucifer's brother, for crying out loud!!! Well, I just didn't think that was the voice of the Holy Spirit.
We continued for a few weeks. "Reader" read a few books he borrowed from me and "Blue Knight" practiced consistently. He's going to be a good guitar player if he hangs in there. We talked and actually did delve into their doctrine a bit. I always felt like we went around in circles when we did that. I also felt like it wasn't my role to try to figure out if these guys were saved. Do they know Him? Are they Christians? They professed to know Him. Maybe a few more weeks and we would have spent more time examining the scriptures and working it out. Maybe God was ready to move them on to a more obedient servant who would more diligently work on them. I planted seeds. Or maybe I watered. I tried to always point to Jesus Christ and his completely forever finished work on the cross. No Aaronic priesthood is necessary any longer. There remains no more sacrifice for sins or any work we can do. It's all Jesus. Man, it is all Jesus!
I really like those guys.....
Note: "Reader" and "Blue Knight" are not their real names.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Wheels for the World
The World Health Organization estimates a need for 20-30 million wheelchairs around in the world. In some countries the cost of a wheelchair can equal an average worker's yearly wage. Consequently, many who are disabled are cut off from society and live in relative isolation. This impacts the ability of many to hear the gospel.
Through Joni and Friend's ministry "Wheels for the World" wheelchairs are collected from all over the United States. Inmates in selected penitentiaries refurbish the donated wheelchairs making them like new again. They are then shipped overseas to meet up with the missionaries who will be fitting them to the patients one by one.
Apparently there were some customs or ministry of finance delays getting the first container out of the Romanian port at Constanta. Our brother Daniel on the ground in Romania sent an email requesting our prayers. I could sense his frustration as he described the bureaucratic obstacles he was facing. (In some respects I suppose government is the same all over the world!) We short-term missionaries were praying in our respective cities. One brother in Oregon typed his prayer and sent in out in an email. It's kind of cool to be a part of the electronic global church. Emails flew back and forth as we prayed and we heard from Daniel again on Friday. The container was out of the port an unloaded at the distribution center.
Here is the recently freed container full of refurbished wheelchairs. I cannot wait to meet these people with whom I've been praying. Soon we will all be gathering for prayer in person. Email is cool but that'll be so much better.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
This Kind of Love
Many years ago when I started reading the Bible daily I began to see Jesus as kind of aloof. Some of the things he said and did made me think of him as unfeeling, standing back from life and always evaluating everyone's motives and finding fault with people. It seemed like, as God in the flesh, he was suffering with the people for awhile until he could get back to heaven and reign as king again. Like there was that time in Matthew 17 when a man approached Jesus and implored him to heal his son. Jesus answered him, "O unbelieving and perverse generation, how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you?" See what I mean?
This morning I had to take another break from Isaiah. Seems I have to steer my small group discussion this Sunday so I was looking at John 13. As I read I saw him differently. He knew his time was short, he knew he would soon die and he knew who was going to betray him. The Bible says "having loved his own who were in the world he loved them to the end." So what does he do? This is where he lays aside his outer robe, ties a towel around his waist and washes his disciples feet. Peter protests and Jesus tells him, "what I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand." He is still painstakingly teaching his men. He loved them dearly so he's preparing them, right up to the end.
A few minutes later the writer says that Jesus was troubled in spirit. Then Jesus tells them one of their own will betray him. Wait a minute. He knew this was coming. He talked about it almost from the start three years earlier. He came to give his life as a ransom and he knew this was coming all along. Was he troubled because now it was imminent? What does it say.....? It says he was troubled and then the first thing out of his mouth was about Judas' betrayal. Was he troubled over Judas? Did he love him? Was he hurting over him? This is no aloof king. This is a love like I've never seen. He loves the betrayer, right up to the end.
More than anything else I want to know this kind of love....
This morning I had to take another break from Isaiah. Seems I have to steer my small group discussion this Sunday so I was looking at John 13. As I read I saw him differently. He knew his time was short, he knew he would soon die and he knew who was going to betray him. The Bible says "having loved his own who were in the world he loved them to the end." So what does he do? This is where he lays aside his outer robe, ties a towel around his waist and washes his disciples feet. Peter protests and Jesus tells him, "what I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand." He is still painstakingly teaching his men. He loved them dearly so he's preparing them, right up to the end.
A few minutes later the writer says that Jesus was troubled in spirit. Then Jesus tells them one of their own will betray him. Wait a minute. He knew this was coming. He talked about it almost from the start three years earlier. He came to give his life as a ransom and he knew this was coming all along. Was he troubled because now it was imminent? What does it say.....? It says he was troubled and then the first thing out of his mouth was about Judas' betrayal. Was he troubled over Judas? Did he love him? Was he hurting over him? This is no aloof king. This is a love like I've never seen. He loves the betrayer, right up to the end.
More than anything else I want to know this kind of love....
Monday, June 1, 2009
Serving
Recently I had house guests. Two male guests. During their stay I passed the commode in "the other bathroom" a few times and I watched it get a little dirtier and a little dirtier. Day by day as they used the facilities a new stain would appear or an obvious miss would catch my eye. I kept thinking, how hard can it be to ring the bowl for crying out loud? (For crying out loud is how I cuss since the Spirit started cleaning up my language.) It wasn't too unbearable because I had the master bathroom to myself and it was staying clean. Yep, spotless. You could eat off the.... well you get the picture.
On my second mission trip, the one to Mexico, I roomed with "Oscar". I was so completely "Felix". All my shirts folded and put into the drawers. Shoes (with shoetrees) lined up neatly in the closet. His opened suitcase stayed in the corner of the room for the whole week with clothing seemingly trying to escape the mayhem. I saw not even a sock folded! He actually left a pair of boxers on the window sill of our bathroom. Just laying up there like that was perfectly normal. With the window opened other Christian missionaries could walk by and see them laying up there like some sort of white trash flag. Nevertheless, in the evening when we talked and got to know one another and prayed for each other before turning in I realized I loved this messy dude. We joked about my neatness bordering on obsessive compulsiveness and his desire to basically live like a pig. (Well, that's how I remember it.) But you know, I would go anywhere with this friend and serve alongside him with joy. I never laughed harder than I did that week living with someone so different from me.
One Sunday morning after these recent guests had gotten dressed for worship I had a few minutes available and thought why don't I clean that commode in the "other bathroom?" Clearly it's something they cannot undertake, for whatever reason. I longed for Playtex Living gloves, those kind that go almost to your elbow - no chance of any wayward germ or jumping virus ever touching your skin. I went to my van and found an old pair of exam gloves we're supposed to keep for when we're working with kids that have infectious diseases. As they had been in there awhile they ripped to pieces as soon as I put them on. Alas, there was no way out. I had to tackle this unprotected.
As I was cleaning the commode and wondering why I had to stoop to do this and why they couldn't be cleaner I remembered my Lord. He took a basin and a towel and washed his disciples feet. Dirty, nasty, smelly feet. He touched them with his hands as he washed them one by one. God spoke to my heart, "this is what it means to serve." I smiled. Tears filled my eyes as I thought how backwards I have it most of the time. I did a good job.
On my second mission trip, the one to Mexico, I roomed with "Oscar". I was so completely "Felix". All my shirts folded and put into the drawers. Shoes (with shoetrees) lined up neatly in the closet. His opened suitcase stayed in the corner of the room for the whole week with clothing seemingly trying to escape the mayhem. I saw not even a sock folded! He actually left a pair of boxers on the window sill of our bathroom. Just laying up there like that was perfectly normal. With the window opened other Christian missionaries could walk by and see them laying up there like some sort of white trash flag. Nevertheless, in the evening when we talked and got to know one another and prayed for each other before turning in I realized I loved this messy dude. We joked about my neatness bordering on obsessive compulsiveness and his desire to basically live like a pig. (Well, that's how I remember it.) But you know, I would go anywhere with this friend and serve alongside him with joy. I never laughed harder than I did that week living with someone so different from me.
One Sunday morning after these recent guests had gotten dressed for worship I had a few minutes available and thought why don't I clean that commode in the "other bathroom?" Clearly it's something they cannot undertake, for whatever reason. I longed for Playtex Living gloves, those kind that go almost to your elbow - no chance of any wayward germ or jumping virus ever touching your skin. I went to my van and found an old pair of exam gloves we're supposed to keep for when we're working with kids that have infectious diseases. As they had been in there awhile they ripped to pieces as soon as I put them on. Alas, there was no way out. I had to tackle this unprotected.
As I was cleaning the commode and wondering why I had to stoop to do this and why they couldn't be cleaner I remembered my Lord. He took a basin and a towel and washed his disciples feet. Dirty, nasty, smelly feet. He touched them with his hands as he washed them one by one. God spoke to my heart, "this is what it means to serve." I smiled. Tears filled my eyes as I thought how backwards I have it most of the time. I did a good job.
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