It's Different When It's MY Mom

For most of us, there are things in life we look forward to, things we aim for or aspire to.  The list may include finishing school, a particular job, special relationships, wealth, success, or any number of things.  There are other things, though, that come our way whether we seek them or not.

I recently spent the better part of two weeks helping pack, load, and move my mom from her own home to my sister’s house nearly six hours away.  My mom is 81, and she is dealing with some pretty significant memory issues.  Gratefully, this move was something she supported, and she embraced it completely.  Nonetheless, it was hard, for all of us.

Over 35 years ago, Mom and Dad moved back to the small town where she was born.  It was also the place where they met and married.  At the time, there was still a lot of family (from both sides) nearby.  In fact, one of the reasons they cited for returning was to help take care of aging family members.

"There are other things...that come our way

whether we seek them or not"

Jump forward to 2018, though, and those relatives are almost all gone.  Dad’s been gone for 10 years this December, and Mom is past the age many of those “aging relatives” were when she and Dad moved back there so long ago.  Time marches on.

So, like countless others before us, we gathered, officially, to pack and load and move Mom.  But we also gathered to bid farewell to a part of our lives – both hers and ours – that is now over.  Officially, finally, and completely over. 

Mom is no longer the family leader she’s been.  While it’s been on the horizon for a while now, it’s suddenly become very clear that Mom is dependent, very dependent, on those of us who come behind her.  It’s hard to watch someone who’s been so strong lose her ability to be independent.  The process will certainly place demands on my sisters and I, though the biggest weight will clearly fall on my sister with whom Mom now lives.  But it’s more than just that.  

I’ve suddenly been reminded that I’m nearer the top of the family tree than I’d been willing to admit, certainly higher than I’d ever aspired to be.  It’s sobering to realize that what was once so nurturing and supportive and embracing is no more. For me, moving my mom out of her own home is a lot like placing that final period at the end of a sentence. That which preceded it is done.

While I know there are thousands of other families dealing with similar circumstances, it feels lonely.  It feels sad.  It’s gone from abstract to very, very personal.  I’ve talked with, prayed with, and counseled plenty of friends and colleagues in similar situations, but it’s different when it’s my mom.

"I can't effectively care for them

if I don't know something about them"

And that realization has reminded me of something I, too often, forget.  For those involved in caring for others (and aren’t we all to some degree), it’s easy to see those we serve as ”customers” or “cases” or “patients” rather than as people.  It’s easier to group others by what they require of us than it is to recognize the unique circumstances and needs of each individual. 

Every person I meet experiences circumstances that are unique to them.  No matter how similar their situation may appear to someone else’s, it is unique and personal to them alone.  Whether it be a personal crisis, a health concern, a family transition, or something else altogether, I can’t truly understand or respond to another’s needs without investing the time and energy to learn something about them as a person.  I can’t effectively care for them if I don’t know something about them. 

As I continue to adjust to Mom’s new circumstances and to changing family roles, I am grateful for the support of so many.  My immediate and extended families, friends, and colleagues all continue to pull together to help us care for Mom and to support one another.  That means the world to me, and that’s the kind of care I hope to share, at least in some small way, with everyone else I meet along the way.  Because, for all of us, “It’s different when it’s my mom.”

Finding Hope in Brokenness

Though we spend much of our time trying to avoid or deny the fact, our world is a broken world.  To be sure, there is a great deal of joy to be found, too, but ultimately, finally, we live in a broken world.  In theological terms, we often refer to it as a “fallen world,” as the Bible teaches that this brokenness/fallenness is a consequence of our own doing.  The Bible explains that our own selfish, sinful choices have led to the fallen state of this world, but the Bible also offers hope in the midst of that brokenness.

I was recently challenged to see brokenness as an opportunity for the gospel.  And what is the gospel?  It is the good news that God has intentionally chosen not to abandon us, leaving us to deal with the consequences we deserve.  Instead, God has provided an opportunity for us to be reconciled to him, and the Bible tells us that opportunity is found in the life, death, and resurrection of his son, Jesus Christ.

But what does it mean when we hear that brokenness is an “opportunity” for the gospel?  Is it that pain and suffering provide an opening, an “in,” for religious exploitation?  Does our pain make us vulnerable to angry, hateful religious rhetoric?  Sadly, too many have used it in just that manner.  It’s part of the brokenness of this world.  But the gospel is not about exploitation, religion, or material gain.  It’s about God and his willingness to unilaterally restore the perfect relationship with him for which we were created.

So, how do we seize the opportunity proffered by our brokenness?  Often, we use words to try and tell or explain or correct.  Jesus did some of that, but he didn’t do it from a distance.  For the most part, his words were delivered only as he came alongside those experiencing pain or suffering.  Jesus travelled from town to town, meeting people where they were and welcoming them as they learned the good news, the gospel, of his presence in their midst.  He met needs – both physical and spiritual – as he met people along the way.  He lived the gospel.

How do we, then, come alongside others?  How do we live the gospel?  Well, we don’t do it by throwing words at “them” or “those people.”  We can give dollars and send others, and that’s all good…to a point.  But there’s more, so much more, that we’re called to do.

I’d suggest two simple, though hardly easy, steps:

1.  Recognize your own brokenness – By admitting our own need and bearing witness to God’s faithfulness, we are able to live out the gospel in the most powerful and effective way possible.  Consider the apostle Peter.  He failed miserably when he denied even knowing Christ not once, but three times.  He experienced the gospel in his own life when Christ restored him and charged him to “feed my sheep” (John 21). 

2.  Meet others in the midst of their brokenness – Don’t turn away.  Don’t avoid.  Go to them where they are and in whatever situation they find themselves.  Then greet them, not with condescending words or harsh judgment, but with the love and compassion of Christ.  Embrace them for who God has created them to be.  Tend to their needs, physical and spiritual, and model Christ’s love and sacrifice.

It may seem strange to see our brokenness as an opportunity for anything but pain and sorrow.  The truth is, though, that the God who created and sustains this universe can also bring joy out of sorrow, peace out of suffering, and wholeness out of brokenness. 

So, the next time you’re struggling with pain or loss or sorrow, see that brokenness as an opportunity for God’s gospel of grace and renewal in your own life.  Then live out that gospel in ways that allow you to come alongside others and minister God’s gospel to them.  See brokenness as an opportunity for the gospel.

An Easter Blessing

Charles Dickens’ classic novel, A Tale of Two Cities, begins, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”  Certain days seem that way, too.

Last Saturday was one of those days for me and my family.  You see, Saturday was the day I officiated our oldest daughter’s wedding ceremony.  It was the best of times.  That same day also marked the funeral of one of the same daughter’s best friends from high school and college.  Her father officiated that service.  It was the worst of times.

Good Friday is another of those days.  Why call “good” the day upon which our Lord was brutally murdered?  It is only through the redeeming power of God that we can consider such a day, such an event, good.  Were it not for the promise of Resurrection Sunday, of Easter, that Friday would be anything but good.  

But Easter is an accomplished fact.  It is the day upon which that same Lord overcame death and fulfilled his promise of forgiveness and life eternal.  Without Friday, though, it could never have happened.  Hard as it was, Friday was very good, indeed.

This weekend, Friday included, marks the very best of times.  So, too, did last Saturday, with its wedding, and even with its funeral.  God's redeeming power seen so clearly in the resurrection was also at work in the life of our daughter’s friend.  Her death marks the beginning of life at home in the presence of God.  That fact allows us to join with the Psalmist in acknowledging that, “Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his faithful servants” (Psalm 116:15).

As we celebrate Easter this Sunday, remember that it happened because, not in spite, of the events of Good Friday.  The death and resurrection of Jesus Christ were not God’s “Plan B.”  He knew the darkness of our hearts and loved us anyway.  He knew the suffering and sacrifice it would take, but he loved us anyway.  The pain and sorrow of Good Friday were transformed into the exuberant celebration of Easter Sunday because he loved us anyway.

May all the blessings of Easter be yours because of his love.

God, Be Glorified

Parents, we should be praying not that our children
would be healthy, happy, and successful,
but that God would be glorified through their lives.

Those words from my pastor continue to weigh on my mind.  I have to confess, I have more often asked God to take care of my children than I have asked that their lives would glorify him.  What higher purpose is there than to bring honor and glory to the one who created us and stands ready to redeem and sustain those who call on him?  But that can be a hard prayer to pray.

A Parable of Two Daughters

Once there were two daughters, unrelated, but sisters at heart.  They met and became good friends.  While each was very much her own person, they found they had a great deal in common.  They shared a sense of adventure, their family backgrounds were remarkably similar, they shared a common faith, and they both embraced life with enthusiasm. 

As they neared graduation, each sought the best opportunity to further her education.  As God would have it, they ended-up attending the same university.  They chose separate courses of study, so, while their paths diverged to a degree, they remained good friends throughout.

Upon finishing their education, the first became a nurse, while the other a missionary – each in their own way serving God.  The first excelled at her work, increased her knowledge and ability, and was soon caring for the most critical patients.  Along the way, she fell in love and was married.  Likewise, the second excelled in her ministry, too, and followed her call to a city and people for whom she cared very deeply.

Along the way, both daughters encountered various challenges and opportunities that they embraced with fervor.  The second found great fulfillment in her work and experienced countless opportunities she might never have known elsewhere.  Though not always easy, she found great satisfaction in seeing others come to know God and in helping the ministry to flourish.

The first also found fulfillment in her work and marriage.  Likewise, she experienced unexpected opportunity, but in a sharply different way.  Very early in her career, she was diagnosed with a grave illness.  It was staggering, nearly devastating.  But with her faith and a deepening maturity, she embraced her battle with the same passion and enthusiasm for life that first drew her and her “sister” together.  She shared her story – openly, honestly, and with a sense of humor that took some by surprise, even as it drew them in.  And as she did so, she grew in ways she’d neither expected nor imagined.  It was almost as if God was doing a work in her, not in spite of, but because of the challenges she was facing.  A work she would never have known any other way.

Last week, the second daughter made final preparations for her wedding.  The first entered hospice care.  In which daughter’s life was God genuinely glorified?

I tell you the truth, it is both.  Despite their very different journeys, despite their very different circumstances, God is glorified in the life of each daughter.  In ways that only God can do, he is faithfully present in each daughter’s experiences, redeeming them for his glory, working through them and in them to accomplish his purposes. 

It is not ours to fully understand the ways of God.  It is very much ours to lean on his character and his word, trusting that he will be glorified in our lives as we yield them to him.  In our lives, and in the lives of our children, God, be glorified.

I am not skilled to understand
what God has willed, what God has planned.
I only know at his right hand
stands one who is my Savior.
                                       -- Aaron Shust

Remembering the Future

One of my favorite Christmas traditions is our Christmas tree.  While I’m not a huge fan of hauling boxes out of storage and setting it up, I do enjoy the beauty and the memories our tree evokes.  Most of the ornaments on our tree are connected to places and people who hold a special place in our hearts.  Year after year, those ornaments take us back to fond memories of past. 

This year, though, our tree has a slightly different look to it.  One might say it has a somewhat more “creative” display than in years past.  Where, typically, we distribute the ornaments to produce a full and balanced display, this year’s tree includes an eclectic grouping of ornaments concentrated in a space of about 6 inches.  It also happens that this collection is right at 3-year-old eye level.  You see, this year, for the very first time, our grandson had his heart set on being part of decorating our tree, and, of course, we welcomed his help. 

One of my favorite times to enjoy our tree is after everyone else has gone to bed, the TV is off, and the evening is winding down.  It’s not really intentional, but I often find myself staring at the tree and remembering times past.  It’s a selective process, of course, as I spend so much more time remembering the good times than I do the hard times.  Sometimes, that remembering makes it difficult to feel very good about Christmases ahead.  This has been a very difficult year for our nation and our world, as hatred, violence, natural disaster, and threats like terrorism and nuclear holocaust have dominated our news.  But, then, I look at that spot on our tree with all its assorted decorations.

Our grandson’s part in decorating the tree reminds me that God still has more ahead.  The innocence and promise of his young life bear witness to the fact that God continues to move and to work, most often in ways that are outside the grasp of my limited understanding.  While much of my Christmas focuses on remembering – remembering God’s gift in that miracle birth, remembering my own celebrations of that event over the years – I need never to let remembering keep me from anticipating God’s future work. 

As I remember the past, I can also “remember” the future – its promise and, ultimately, its path.  Though I can’t see it nearly so well as I can remember selected parts of the past, the future is every bit as real.  I don’t know the details, and I can’t control it nearly so much as I like to think I can, but the future is just as much God’s as is the past.  Hebrews 13:8 reminds us that, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.”  He doesn’t change, regardless of our circumstances.  Even if some of those things that concern us most actually come to pass, God’s love, power, and purpose remain unchanged.

Nearly 40 years ago, when my wife and I first started decorating our own tree, we couldn’t possibly have imagined what the future would hold.  And it’s probably just as well, because I’m not sure my finite mind could have comprehended everything that’s transpired since then.  One constant throughout, though, has been God’s faithful love and provision, in good times and in bad, that has sustained and blessed us.  In the same way, I don’t have to know the details of the future to know God doesn’t change, that his faithful love and provision will see me through everything that lies ahead, good and bad.

If ever I’m tempted to doubt that, all I have to do is look at our tree. 

"It's never been this..."

“Our nation has never been this divided.”  You’ve heard it said, maybe even said it yourself.  And, at least at times, it does seem that way.  To be sure, we have some deep and serious divisions in our national culture.  Fault lines along topics like race, economics, politics, and (seemingly) countless others threaten to fracture our nation, perhaps irreparably.  In fact, there are those who would suggest just such a fragmentation is imminent.  But are they right?

Marty Duren, self-described “Christ follower, husband, father, writer, social media manager and teaching pastor,” would disagree.  In a recent social media post, he proposed that a look at our nation’s history might suggest a different conclusion.  Without diminishing in the least our current crises, Duren calls attention to the U.S. Civil War of the 1860’s in which more than 600,000 lives were lost.  He also points to the huge cultural divides of the 1960’s that "saw soldiers and marines who had just returned from combat in Vietnam deployed on the streets of America to control protest and rioting," multiple assassinations, and domestic bombings so frequent they "reached 'ho-hum' levels."

When we take Duren's advice and look closely at our national history, we see that dissension, division, and heated antipathy are recurring elements of our national character.  When, then, do we tend to think our circumstances are the worst ever?  Why do we believe things have never been this a) divided, b) hateful, c) unpredictable, d) angry (choose all that apply)?  More to the point, regardless of where they'd rank on the list of "all-time worst," what can we do to bridge, even erase, the deepest of our divisions?

Duren's suggestion to take a closer look at history bears rich dividends here, as well.  Following the Civil War, intentional steps were taken to facilitate the reunification of the nation, though not exactly in a pre-war condition.  The new nation officially included nearly four million new citizens, slaves freed during the course of the war.  Sadly, it took the deaths of those 600,000 soldiers and citizens over four long years to begin the process of fully incorporating former slaves into the fabric of our nation (a process that continues to this day).  Similarly, it was only after many painful years of protests and violence that our culture found room to include traditional and more progressive values.  At least for a time, we seemed to find room for both the clean-cut and the long-haired, the conventional and the non-conformist.

In both cases, it seems the pain and angst of violence led to a recognition that the opposing sides had a common interest in reducing the intensity of the conflict.  It wasn't easy, and it was never smooth.  There were (and are still) pockets of reluctance and resistance on both sides, but progress was made.  How, then, can we reduce the level of hostility and confrontation we see in our own culture today?

I'd suggest it begins with an acknowledgement of the inherent worth of each and every human being.  (For me, this stems from my theology that teaches we are ALL created in the image of God.)  Such an acknowledgement allows room for conversation, and we can all learn so much from genuine conversation.  Now, conversation doesn't necessarily generate instant agreement.  It does, though, offer a full, more complete, understanding of another's position.  That richer understanding, then, can lead to fuller appreciation of each other.

Passion and conviction are, undoubtedly, important.  But, so long as our interactions with one another are driven chiefly, even exclusively, by emotion rather than understanding, we will remain divided.  Hostility and antagonism will continue to flourish.  If we will work, instead, toward honest conversation, perhaps we can change our future history by bridging divides before they lead to Civil War or 1960's levels of hatred and violence.  The choice is ours.

#MartyDuren  #history  #culturalconflict  #culturaldivision  #conversation  #inherentworth