On Being Surprised

In my work as a chaplain, I regularly encounter families who have lost a loved one.  So often, I hear something like, “We knew it was coming, we just didn’t know it would be today.”  If we’re really honest, though, we all know “it” is coming.  We just don’t like to think about it, and we don’t want to admit we know, so death often surprises us.

Another reality that often takes us by surprise is the fact that none of us is perfect or complete, at least not on our own merit.  The truth is that, even on our best days, we have a dark and broken nature that shows itself, sometimes, when we least expect it (the bible calls it sin).  We may hide it or try to cover it up, but it will make itself known.

At this time of year, as we begin to look toward the Easter season, I’m reminded of the start of that final week, “Holy Week” as we often call it.  Christ arrived in Jerusalem to cheering throngs who laid palm fronds and cloaks on the street in front of him – kind of a precursor to our contemporary red-carpet treatment, perhaps.  We know this day as “Palm Sunday,” and many faith groups celebrate it to this day.  Sadly, the celebration and cheering were followed, just five short days later, by hateful jeering and calls for the cruel death of that same Savior.  

Sadly, the celebration and cheering were followed,
just five short days later, by hateful jeering and calls
for the cruel death of that same Savior.  

It seems a jarring, even surprising, turn of events, but should it?  We’re reminded by scripture and, if we’re honest, by our own experience that we each have within us the capacity for both incredible good and incredible bad.  The Easter season, though, reminds us that God knows us in our entirety, our good and our bad, and loves us anyway.  It’s something for which we should be incredibly grateful, and it’s something to be celebrated like nothing else.

Easter and Christmas are two parts of the same story.  Without Christ’s birth, he wouldn’t have died and risen again.  Without his death and resurrection, there wouldn't have been much point in his birth, either.  Just like its Christmas counterpart, Advent, Easter has a similar period of preparation and anticipation.  It's called Lent.  The forty days (plus six Sundays) leading to Easter are often marked by honest self-reflection, acknowledgment of personal brokenness, and humbling one's self before God.  It points us to God’s holiness and incredible love displayed so clearly at Easter.  The observance of Lent, though, starts with Ash Wednesday.

The practice of Ash Wednesday includes receiving ashes on one’s forehead, generally in the shape of a cross.  This is typically accompanied by God’s reply to Adam after Adam had sinned, “You are dust, and to dust you shall return” (Gen. 3:19), a pointed reminder of our own mortality.  But even the shape of the ashes on one’s forehead (a cross) points to what is to come – redemption and victory.  Somber though it may be, Ash Wednesday serves as a promise of God’s faithfulness and love.

The healthcare system to which our hospital belongs (SSM Health), is in the midst of an enhanced effort to raise the profile of our faith-based heritage and character.  At our hospital this year, part of that focus will include an observance of Ash Wednesday.  As I began preparing, I learned that the ashes used are often obtained from the burning of palm fronds from the preceding year’s Palm Sunday celebration.  The very implements of praise serve, also, as reminders of our brokenness.   

It seems somehow appropriate that my own
unfaithfulness should be marked by ashes from
the remains of such a shallow and transient adulation.

As I think how suddenly the crowds turned from cheering to jeering, from worship to condemnation, I’m reminded that I am guilty of that same kind of betrayal.  It seems somehow appropriate, then, that my own need for forgiveness, my own unfaithfulness, should be marked by ashes from the remains of such a shallow and transient adulation.  

Ash Wednesday is a powerful reminder of who made me, what I’ve become, what I deserve, and who I can be.  It includes theological understandings such as creation, sin, death, and grace.  While reminders of my own fallenness may surprise me at times, the faithfulness and incredible love of the God who made, redeems, and sustains me should not.  

I invite you to join me this year in experiencing the fullness of the upcoming Easter season.  You might just be surprised again, this time by what God will do in you.

#AshWednesday  #Lent  #Easter  #Surprise  

Called to Serve

Here at SSM Health St. Anthony Shawnee, we recently held our annual MISSION CELEBRATION event.  This event is an opportunity for all employees to celebrate the work that is already being done and to consider new or improved ways of fulfilling our mission.  This year’s theme was “Called to Serve.” 

As we prepared for the event, our Mission Team (the group responsible for planning and leading the event), invested a good deal of time and energy in considering just what it means to be “Called to Serve.”  On the surface, responding to such a call includes meeting the needs of others, not just ourselves.  But isn’t that our job?  Aren’t we supposed to meet the needs of others?

But isn't that our job?

To be sure, answering the call to serve starts with meeting others’ needs – patients, families, and coworkers, alike.  The manner in which we respond to those needs, though, more accurately defines whether we’ve truly responded to that call.  I can treat a request as an obligation or as an opportunity.  When I fulfill an obligation, I’m doing my job.  When I seize an opportunity to make a difference in someone else’s life, no matter how small, I am truly serving.

Fully answering that call to serve is doing my job and so much more.  That call actually includes two calls – a call to care, and a call to act.  If I don’t really care, I may meet an obligation, but I won’t truly have served.  And what good does it do to care if I don’t choose to act?

Answering the call to serve, caring and acting, can take many forms.  It may be a major life decision such as choosing a profession, pursuing a degree or certification, changing jobs, or something else altogether.  More often, though, answering that call involves smaller choices we encounter on a regular basis.  It may be something as simple as saying “Have a nice day!” to those I encounter in the course of my day.  It may be spending just an extra few moments with someone who is confused or concerned.  It might even be taking the time to pray with a patient or coworker who has shared a concern. 

Most often, answering the call to serve is simply a matter of paying attention and choosing to act.  I’ve heard it said that, “Not to decide is to decide.”  If I don’t intentionally choose TO do a task, I won’t do it.  The end result is just the same as having chosen not to do it.  Not to decide, then, truly is to decide.  However, if I’m willing to simply pay attention to the needs around me AND to choose to act on them, I will have answered the call to truly serve. 

Not to decide is to decide

I’ve heard countless stories of our employees doing just this kind of thing.  For instance:

- A lab tech arrived to draw blood and noticed her patient was having difficulty shaving, so she invested a few extra minutes to help him complete the task.

- A therapist, on his way across the parking lot after work, spotted an elderly gentleman who was confused and agitated.  He invested time in helping the gentleman find someone who could help him clear his mind and get where he needed to be – again, all after work.

- A nurse took the time to sit and talk with a patient who, recently diagnosed with a stroke, was refusing life-saving treatment.  The nurse heard the patient’s pain, recognized his fear, and shared the compassion and insight needed to help the patient make a more productive choice.

- Another nurse, talking on the phone with a patient, recognized the despair in his voice and, when the call abruptly ended, chose to call the police out of concern. They later let her know she’d saved the patient’s life, as he was planning to commit suicide.

Not every opportunity to serve is as dramatic as some of these, but each is an opportunity to make a positive difference in someone’s life, and we all have them every day.  The real question is whether or not we’ll take the time to recognize and respond.

The real question is whether or not
we'll take the time

Sure, acting on the call to serve is our job, but it’s also our mission.  Our mission statement here at SSM Health reads, “Through our exceptional healthcare services, we reveal the healing presence of God.”  We’re called to reveal God’s presence by the way we respond to the call to serve. 

It’s no exaggeration, then, to say that the call to serve is, quite literally, a call to reveal God.  It’s a pretty profound call, actually, and it’s one we don’t take lightly.  Caring for this community is our job, but it’s so very much more. It’s a choice we make over and over again, each and every day.  And we’re grateful for the opportunity.

#call  #caring  #serving  #servant  #mission  #ssmhealth

This Town

As with so many others so much like it, This Town sits at an intersection.  Two roads of local, though not especially widespread, significance cross on the edge of This Town, and the intersection is governed by a ubiquitous four-way-stop.  Occasionally, and almost always by lack of attention, someone will drive on through without stopping.  In those rare instances, folks generally cooperate and look out for one another and just get on with their day. 

Within just a few blocks of the four-way sit at least six churches of various flavors and sizes. None are especially large, because, simply put, there just aren’t that many people who live in This Town.  The folks who do, though, are generally good-hearted, hard-working folks who, even though they go to different churches, usually get along pretty well.  Church is where they can be found on Sundays (and plenty of other days, too), but their faith is more often simply who they are rather than something they do.

On a recent Sunday, we were leaving Our Church when we saw something of a commotion out on the street.  Through town, anyway, the street is four lanes wide, and something was going on that had all four lanes stopped.  The first thing I spotted was a vehicle, apparently exiting from That Church Across the Street.  The vehicle had stopped in the middle of the road perpendicular to the traffic.  As I wondered why, I noticed a young man walking steadily but VERY slowly across the street in front of that vehicle, seemingly oblivious to the traffic that had stopped around him.

Their faith is more often simply who they are rather than something they do...

To say this was unusual would be a major understatement.  The situation unfolding in front of us seemed not only strange, but also quite dangerous.  If anyone approaching the situation happened to be less than attentive, the young man could easily be injured or worse. 

But then, suddenly, I noticed something else.  Two men from Our Church, probably 35-40 years apart in age, were walking out into the street toward the young man.  They greeted him warmly and escorted him safely to the sidewalk on Our Church’s side of the street.  Before it was all over, one of them took him in his own vehicle and gave him a ride home.

I was justifiably proud of the two men, both of whom I know.  I mean, they stepped right up and did the right thing.  That’s the way we are at Our Church.  That’s just the way Our Church is.  It’s a shame That Church Across the Street isn’t the same way.  If the situation was reversed, their members might not have even helped that young man.

Really?  REALLY!?!  Are their members not willing to step out and “do the right thing?”  Is That Church Across the Street so uncaring as I wanted to believe?  After all, left to its own devices, my imagination could also suggest all sorts of unfounded (read “wrong”) assumptions that led that young man out into the street in the first place.  Gratefully, something, and I have to believe it was God rather than I, caused me to stop and reconsider my arrogant pride.

After all, why was that driver stopped across the flow of traffic if not to protect the young man?  What had members of the other congregation already done or tried to do to help him?  If he had been crossing toward them, would they really have ignored him?  I don’t think so.

We’re not residents of This Town, though we’re there regularly.  We live elsewhere, and our backgrounds have taken us many places very different from This Town.  What I first saw as an “us vs. them” was actually a beautiful example of people coming together, from different congregations but from a common commitment to people and to doing the right thing by them, to make a difference in the life of this one young man. 

I have so much to learn from the folks at Our Church and the residents of This Town...

Just as they look out for one another at the four-way-stop, the residents of This Town also look out for someone crossing the street – whatever street it is and whichever way he’s headed.  My guess is they didn’t see this situation as anything special.  It was just regular people doing what they should.  And I feel sure that, once it was over, they simply went on about their day.

I have so much to learn from the folks at Our Church and the residents of This Town.  I can only pray I’ll be open to learning and will put those lessons into practice in my own life.  Eventually, maybe I can even share some of them with others, too.  This Town, Our Church, and even That Church Across the Street are beautiful places to be – at whatever intersection you may find them.

New Insights Into Old Words, Stanza 3

On a couple of occasions, now, I’ve written about this same topic.  We have so many words and phrases we don’t use anymore, and we continue to use countless others that have lost their original meaning.  For instance, does anybody ever encounter (or even remember how to use) a pay phone?  What about a cassette tape?  If you use one of those, you’ll surely have to rewind at some point.  And why do we still tell the kids to roll up the windows in the car?  If we’re not careful, we’ll sound like a broken record.  But don't touch that dial, I’m not running out of steam just yet!  When was the last time you experienced a Kodak moment? On the flip side, sometimes you’re just not up to having your picture taken because you feel like you’ve been through the wringer.

The context for each of my previous articles was the arrival of a new grandchild, and the arrival of our newest, Grace Elaine, prompted this one.  Just as each grandchild is unique, so, too, were the circumstances surrounding each child’s arrival.  Our first grandchild was adopted from a birth mother dealing with some very difficult and dangerous addiction issues. I found that the word redeemed described his situation quite well.  Our next grandchild, also adopted, came from a different situation.  His birth mother simply recognized she couldn’t provide all her baby would need.  In a very real sense, the birth mother bequeathed him to his new family. 

To bestow means to give or present
something of value or honor

Grace’s arrival called to my mind another word we rarely use any more, the word bestow.  To bestow means to give or present something, often something of value or honor.  Like her cousins before her, Grace is an incredibly precious honor deeply loved and cherished by her family.  During a recent visit with Grace and her parents, I had the chance to hear our son-in-law recall all the wonderful changes they’d experienced over the last couple of years.  Unlike her sisters, our oldest daughter didn’t marry right out of college.  In fact, she didn’t even meet her husband until she was into her 30’s.  But once they met, things moved rather swiftly.  In the span of just over 30 months, they went from meeting to dating to engagement to marriage to pregnancy to Grace’s arrival.  So, by the time we all caught our breath, it felt a very much as if Grace had simply, and almost suddenly, been bestowed on us.  The honor and responsibility that come with such a gift are still sinking in.

My prayer for Grace is that she will live into her name

Each of our grandchildren is a gift I treasure deeply.  In fact, I believe every child, every life, is a gift from God.  The timing and circumstances of Grace’s birth, though, made her arrival special in its own way.  Of course, her very name speaks to an even greater gift – God’s gift of grace to all who will receive it.  My prayer for Grace is that she will live into her name and will know God’s abundant grace in her own life, even as she shares it extravagantly with those around her.  What greater gift could God bestow to Grace than His grace?

Redeemed, bequeathed, and bestowed.  Oliver, Coehn, and Grace.  What precious gifts, one and all.

To God be the glory!

#bestowed #bequeathed #redeemed #grandchild #grace #old words

"Spiritual, but not religious" or "Religious, but not spiritual"

One of the questions we ask a patient upon admission to the hospital is whether they have a religious preference or affiliation. Like blood type and countless other pieces of information, this knowledge helps inform our care and enables us to provide the most effective treatment (physical and spiritual) possible. Interestingly, on both the national and local levels, the fastest-growing category of religious affiliation is, “Spiritual but not religious.” Now, the precise meaning of that phrase leaves a lot of room for interpretation, so it’s important for us to get to know a patient well enough to understand just what he/she means by it.

Some fall into the category researcher and author George Barna labels, “Love Jesus, but not the church.” This group would include those who have some sort of religious affiliation (presumably Christian, in this case) but don’t enjoy participating in a local congregation. For others, though, the phrase “Spiritual but not religious” (SBNR) conveys a loosely defined tendency toward “spiritual” things without any formal religious affiliation. Even some atheists and agnostics identify with this description.

Whatever their particular circumstance, the number of people identifying as SBNR continues to increase significantly. In fact, according to a 2017 study conducted by the Pew Research Center, nearly one in five Americans now identifies as SBNR. While that percentage might not be quite so high here in the Bible Belt, it has, no doubt, increased significantly over the last decade or two. The growth of this group has been so dramatic that pastor/blogger Craig Leukens wryly describes it as a “once-hip-but-now-it’s-too-popular-to-be-truly-hip” trend.

Outside the Bible Belt, a lack of religious or spiritual inclination carries no negative connotation whatsoever. However, the cultural faith that still predominates here (i.e. religious engagement driven by cultural expectation rather than genuine faith) apportions a pointed measure of guilt and shame to those who claim no religious, or even spiritual, alignment. In fact, I believe the implied condemnation is so strong it has driven many to take a stance I would describe as, “Religious but not spiritual.”

the cultural faith that still predominates here

apportions a pointed measure of guilt and shame

Like the SBNR, the “Religious but not spiritual” category can be divided into more than one group. Author Elizbeth Scalia (no relation to the late Supreme Court Justice, by the way) contends that many engage in religion-shaped behaviors “as they observe their special rites and rituals, identify new sins, and assign penances,” all without any affiliation with an organized religious group. She suggests they “know nothing of mercy and too much of rage.” John Stonestreet suggests we consider the so-called “’social justice warriors’ who patrol the internet seeking heretics and sinners to punish . . . They know little about wonder, mystery, and gratitude—which is at the heart of true spirituality.”

In the Bible Belt, anyway, I more often see a different side of the “Religious but not spiritual” bloc. This segment claims a strong affiliation with an established religious group and generally has a somewhat consistent record of attendance and participation. Significantly, though, those in this group, like others in the “Religious but not spiritual” category, seem to display little of the “wonder, mystery, and gratitude” referenced by Stonestreet. Frequently, this group also matches Scalia’s description, seeming to “know nothing of mercy and too much of rage.” Sadly, if I’m totally honest, I too often find myself in this category.

I was raised in church from childhood. In fact, I can’t remember ever not being a regular church-goer. I’m an ordained minister and chaplain, and I’m also a flawed human being. I find it easier to be religious than to be truly spiritual. Much easier. Allowing God’s Spirit to direct my thoughts and actions doesn’t come naturally, and it doesn’t come easily. And that’s one of the paradoxes of genuine spirituality – It’s not until I honestly confess I’m not capable that I can fully rely on God’s Spirit in me.

I find it easier to be religious than to be truly spiritual. Much easier.

My desire is to be both spiritual and religious. I’m convinced genuine religion strengthens my spirituality. Sadly, too much of what passes for religion in our culture isn’t genuine or spiritual, not by biblical standards, anyway. James 1:27 tells us, “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.” My prayer is that I would be found faithful in practicing religion that “God our Father accepts as pure and faultless,” religion stemming from a profoundly spiritual relationship with God. 

What about you? Are you “Spiritual but not religious?” “Religious but not spiritual?” Maybe something else altogether? It’s an important question for each of us to consider.

Remembrance

For some reason (some might call it chance, but I believe it to be far more directed than that), my thoughts have been drawn to this year’s anniversary of the 1995 bombing of the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City.  I felt led to pen a prayer that spoke to the significance of the event, both then and now.  It wasn’t until after I’d written it, though, that I recognized the confluence of this year’s anniversary with Good Friday, the day on which Christ Jesus was crucified.

As I thought about the combination of events, I reread my prayer and was struck by how its themes were equally fitting for Good Friday.  Both events mark tragic and horrific events.  In both cases, innocent lives were taken by evil.  And in both situations, God’s love and power triumphed over that evil – more visibly on the Sunday after Good Friday, perhaps, but with equal certainty following the Oklahoma City bombing.

Then it occurred to me that the hope and conviction arising from the tragedy of the bombing were possible only because of the resurrection – the ultimate demonstration of God’s power over death and destruction.  Without that, how could we find hope in the rubble?  Without it, in what could we place our faith?  In the absence of God’s victory, there would be no possibility of renewal, of growth, of life.

But He IS victorious!  “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (I Cor. 15:55)  That victory, HIS victory, offers hope where there is none.  Without ever ignoring the pain and sorrow, the suffering and sacrifice, it affords peace even in the horror of murder and destruction, both on Golgotha and in Oklahoma City. 

May this year’s remembrance – of both Christ’s crucifixion and the bombing – remind each of us of God’s ultimate power over evil and death.  May the sorrow and tragedy serve to remind us that there is more, so much more, yet to come.

A Prayer of Remembrance
On the 24th Anniversary of the Bombing of Oklahoma City’s Murrah Federal Building

Lord, we pause this morning to remember those lost on this day so many years ago.  We remember those, too, who were injured, whether in body, in spirit, or both.  

But, Lord, as we remember, may we respond, not in fear, but in faith.  Not simply in horror, but with hope.  Hope that reminds us that no matter how hard, how tragic, or how overwhelming our days may be, there is another day coming – A day in which You will wipe away all tears and evil will be banished forever. 

So, Lord, we remember the events of April 19, 1995.  But keep us mindful, as well, of Your promise still to be fulfilled.  In it may we find the strength for this, and each, day ahead. 

In the overcoming name of Jesus Christ, we pray. 

Amen.

Loosening My Grip

Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s human nature, but I’ve noticed a real tendency in myself to hold onto the things I like.  Whether it be people, situations, circumstances, things, whatever, if I like it, I don’t want to let it go, sometimes to a fault.

Now, there are some things that are worth holding onto, things I ought to hold onto.  I think of my faith, my marriage, my family and friends.  These are important, even foundational, to who I am and who I want to become.  How healthy is it, though, to cling tightly to these simply because of what I gain from them or how they make me feel?  Can I cling too tightly, or for the wrong reasons, to the right things? Do I need to reconsider not only what, but how I hold, those things I deem important?

Lord willing, my wife and I will celebrate 40 years of marriage this summer, and we dated for five-and-a-half years before that.  We truly were just kids when we met, 15 and 16 years old (though wisdom dictates I don’t tell you who was which).  Over the years, we’ve encountered our share of circumstances and events that have caused us to hold tightly to one another.

Can I cling too tightly, or for the wrong reasons,

to the right things?

Early in our relationship, our youth pastor shared an illustration that spoke deeply to us.  He took a pencil in hand and began to write.  As he wrote, he challenged me to grab the pencil out of his hand.  It came right out.  I returned the pencil to him, and he began to write again.  On his cue, I tried to take it back.  This time, though, he held it so tightly I couldn’t pull it loose.  He won…or did he?  What I hadn’t realized was that he also held it so tightly he could barely write with it.  He held it so tightly that he wasn’t able to use it for its intended purpose. The challenge for us was to consider whether or not our burgeoning relationship, focusing so tightly on one another, was keeping us from being/doing that to which God was calling each of us.

Is it possible to cling so tightly to the things I know and love that I squeeze the meaning or the purpose out of them?  That I squeeze the life out of them?  As we considered our youth pastor’s challenge, we became convinced that God was calling us to commit our lives both to Him and to one another.  The clear lesson, however, was that we could never allow ourselves to be so consumed with one another that we neglected those God put around us. 

Is my relationship with God ultimately about me

or about the person and nature of God?

So, is it possible to hold too tightly or for the wrong reasons?  I believe it is.  If my wife and I had tried to cling to that high school relationship we so enjoyed back then, we wouldn’t know and love the people we’ve become so many years later.  And my faith in God?  While God hasn’t changed, my understanding of God has changed immeasurably as I’ve allowed him to change me.  Had I held rigidly only to what I knew early on, I wouldn’t be who I am today.  And when it comes down to it, is my relationship with God ultimately about me or about the person and nature of God?

My wife and I were recently challenged to let go of a congregation and a small-group we’d been part of for several years.  God was leading us to accept a leadership role at another church, and, as much as we wanted to do that, we didn’t want to let go of what we knew and loved.  Our church and our small-group had been incredible blessings through some very trying circumstances. 

As we followed our understanding of God’s call, though, we were reminded of that illustration from our youth pastor.  If we chose to hold tightly to what we knew, what we had, what we loved, how much might we miss?  As teens, it was by loosening the grip on our relationship with each other that we experienced the fullness of our relationship today.  If we held too tightly to our small-group and our church, what might we miss by failing to step out into the future God has laid-out ahead of us?  

As I reflect on all of this, I have to wonder if there are other things in my life I hold too tightly.  What about you?  Are there things in your life you hold too tightly or for the wrong reasons? 

Maybe it’s you.  Maybe it’s me.  Maybe it’s all of us.