Two Batteries and a Hopeful Future

Dear friends,

There is a rumor across Cherokee Presbytery that I am doing quite well. While I do not want to dispel that rumor, I want to remind you of the reality in which I operate. My "reality" begins with two batteries. Yesterday morning I had about an hour from the time that Carole left for work and when Judy was to pick me up to take me to the Presbytery office. Rather than take the time to fire up my computer, I decided to dictate some of today's message into my digital recorder. This is really quite an ingenious little writing tool: I can wear it around my neck and dictate thoughts and ideas as they come to me. When I am finished dictating, I plug it into my computer through the USB port and it is transcribed directly into Microsoft Word. From there I can edit as needed with my voice recognition software. This is really great -- except when the dreaded "low battery" message is blinking on the recorder at power-up.

I'm sure I started with an expression like, "Rats!" Within one half second my expression of frustration turned into great hopefulness -- I know where there are AAA batteries! At this point it was 8:55 a.m. My first thought was to find the batteries in our kitchen junk drawer. To my dismay, Carole had cleaned it out a few weeks ago. To my elation, I remembered where she put the valuable stuff that was in the drawer. To my dismay, it was in a big basket full of pens, pencils, and batteries of all shapes and sizes. I leaned my canes up against the counter and began digging in the basket. I got my hands on several pens, pencils, AAs, and even a few 9 V batteries.

After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, I spotted a AAA battery. I picked it up and dropped it at least 10 times until I finally got it to rest on a napkin on the counter. If I put it down on the hard surface of the counter it would have fallen on the floor for sure. Similarly, I struggled with the second battery -- only dropping this one five times. Unfortunately when I put it on the napkin the battery rolled off the napkin across the counter and onto the floor, which, by the way, is one of those laminate floors on which things like batteries roll and roll. Thankfully the battery stopped in a reasonable place, but more about that later.

I struggled to pick up the remaining battery, finally managing to hold it on the ends with my fingers. By the way, my fingers were pretty well curled up by this point from all the stress and strain on them. I managed to get back to the kitchen table and put my single battery down on yet another napkin until I was assured it was not going anywhere. Then I began to pull the escaped battery on the floor with my cane and then with my foot, being very careful not to let it get away for me. Finally I leaned down and, once again, struggled long and hard and before I was able to get in my hand and on the table. By this point, it was 9:35 -- 40 minutes later! Judy walked in as I was resting from my heroic accomplishment. Actually, putting the two batteries into the recorder went relatively easily, and even now I am dictating into my beloved electronics labor saver.

What would normally have been a pretty simple, routine task turned out to be something just short of an ordeal! I wish that my recovery could simply be a matter of physical conditioning and strength training. I could do that in a heartbeat because I learned a long time ago how to discipline and control my body. The reality with which I lived today is that I cannot control my body. This week I have done a little research on the Internet in an effort to understand what feels like an unmanageable gap between my brain, my spinal cord, my arms, hands, and legs.

At the "National Institute of Neurological Disorders" web site I came across two pieces that describe my situation perfectly. First, is my presenting diagnosis; and second, is a description of why I feel so bad most of the time.

Central Cord Syndrome is a form of incomplete spinal cord injury (in which some of the signals from the brain to the body are not received), characterized by impairment in the arms and hands and, to a lesser extent, in the legs. The brain's ability to send and receive signals to and from parts of the body below the side of the trauma is affected but not entirely blocked. This syndrome, usually the result of trauma, is associated with damage to the large nerve fibers that carry information directly from the cerebral cortex to the spinal cord. These nerves are particularly important for hand and arm function. Symptoms may include paralysis and/or loss of fine control of movements in the arms and hands, relatively less impairment of leg movements.

Hypertonia is a condition marked by an abnormal increase in muscle tension and a reduced ability of the muscle to stretch. It is caused by an injury to motor pathways in the central nervous system, which carry information from the central nervous systems to the muscles and control posture, muscle tone, and reflexes.

The difficult truth for me is that I simply cannot control my body. I am making excellent progress, to be sure, but I still live a very insecure existence -- my body is simply not very reliable and, to be very honest with you, I do not like it at all! On the other hand, however, in almost everything that has happened to me over the past nine months I have found God's presence to be overwhelmingly sufficient, and I have always discovered lessons for the Church and its mission.

First, I must always begin with Scripture. Without the daily lectionary or some other disciplined reading of the Scriptures I could not survive. With this, it is very important that you know that I do not see the Scriptures as my "personal power manual." The writings of the Old and New Testament's are for the Church. Their purpose is to help form a believing community of Christ for its mission -- to bring blessing and healing to the whole world. This is especially comforting to those of us who are wounded physically!

The Old Testament lesson for today is from Isaiah 49 and speaks to my heart -- not to mention the hearts of those in harm's way in Iraq and the families here at home who worry about them. Into this unmanageable and uncontrollable situation it is wonderful to know who our God is -- and that our God will not forget us.

Sing for joy, O heavens, and exult, O earth; break forth, O mountains, into singing! For the LORD has comforted his people, and will have compassion on his suffering ones. But Zion said, “The LORD has forsaken me, my Lord has forgotten me.” Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.

This time of year our church sessions are holding retreats for the purpose of planning their futures. In fact, this weekend your "two-headed" General Presbyter will be at two retreats -- Steve Bacon will be with the Southminster session and I will be with the Calhoun session. So often, we approach church planning from a business perspective -- that is we have been taught to "imagine the future," and then to plan so that it will happen exactly as we imagine it.

Last year I had a pretty good set of plans until God put me aside for a time to learn some important lessons about life. What I learned was that my life could change in a heartbeat, and although this year has been extremely difficult I am grateful to God that that I am moving in exciting -- and scary -- new directions. What I am experiencing is the comforting Reformed doctrine that God is mysteriously in control.

In The Continuing Conversion of the Church, Darrell Guder reminds us of this truth and our mission:

The desire of the disciples to share Christ's throne and to know the time that the Kingdom will be restored betrayed common motifs of control that constantly bedevil the Christian church. Indeed, the gospel's insistence that conversion must be linked with repentance is a clear indictment of the human urge to control. To acknowledge one's need for forgiveness is to renounce the human demand to control one's own life and fate.

Those two batteries were enough to remind me that even though I am out of control, God is not!

The peace of Christ be with you.
Jim

Any Excuse for a Song

Dear friends,

Yesterday was a day that I have been dreading for some time. First, Carole and I overslept. That's right -- we sacked-in until 5:50 a.m.! After an abbreviated time of stretching the painful truth hit me: I did not want to get out of the bed. I was so cold, stiff, and weary that it took all the energy I could muster to get out of bed, eat breakfast, and ride my stationary bike for 40 minutes. I didn't really want to go to work but I knew I had to. After all, I had made a promise.

As it turned out, I not only survived -- I actually prospered! By 2:30 p.m. Steve Bacon and I had shared a good bit of our workload, we met with a prospective interim pastor, I tried out a new telephone headset and participated in six calls without stress and strain on my hands, and thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to be with friends and coworkers. If I failed to get out of bed, and gave in to my more immature tendencies, I would have missed not only a great blessing, but several great blessings!

Without going any farther there is a great lesson in this. Over the past nine months, Carole and I have learned that blessing often (or perhaps always) comes after a time of subjecting body and soul to extreme stresses. Yesterday, my stress was simply getting out of bed and going to work. It was quite difficult, but I did it.

When I think about the devastating nature of a spinal cord injury, I find myself both highly introspective and passionately athletic as I engage the healing process. I recall a helpful illustration from The Horse Whisperer. In the process of healing for the young woman she learns something about how horses deal with pain. Instead of fleeing the pain, a horse "runs at the pain." That is, the horse bites at the pain and in a sense makes it worse so that it can get better. In our pill and medicine addicted culture, pain is simply not allowed. I am pleased to say that I attack my pain with athletic enthusiasm -- but also with a song!

On the other hand, everywhere I look today I sense that people are in pain -- and that they are running away from it as fast as they can. The problem is that our pain is increasingly associated with events that we did not expect, cannot control, and cannot explain. Since September 11, 2001 we have gone into a deep dark hole of fear and defensiveness. While I certainly admit to my share of concern, since April 14, 2004 I have discovered resources that have been planted in my soul, my consciousness, and most recently in my will and actions. Despite the pain, discomfort, and uncertainty, I am simply not afraid of anything.

This week, I have read an excellent little book, American Desert, by Percival Everett. This is a delightfully satirical novel about a man named Ted who decides to put an end to his life. On his way to the ocean where he intends to drown himself, he is hit by a truck and killed -- decapitated! For the funeral service, they stitched Ted's head back onto his body. As his friends and colleagues try to eulogize this man, his body sits up in the casket and causes a riot in the church.

From here Ted becomes a celebrity. The rest of the story depicts the various news media in hyperspace overdrive. Nobody knows exactly how to deal with the dead man who continues to live. It is laughable for sure, but yet we see and hear stories like this almost every day. Early in the story, Ted has an illuminating conversation with his little boy, Perry.

Perry stared at his father. "What is it, son?" Ted asked. "Are we in trouble?" the boy asked. "Why do you ask that?" "Because of what happened in the church and all that fighting." Perry looked at his knuckles on the table. "Were they fighting because of us?"

Ted loved Perry for being honest in his characterization of the situation. How easy it would have been for him to pass it all over to one person, namely to Ted, but that would have been an adult move. For Perry, he was part of the father; what ever happened to his father happened to him. And suddenly, Ted was overcome with contrition and sadness as he considered that he had been about the business of killing himself when he had been killed. How could he have done that to his son, to little Perry, who was so delicate and trusting, who still insisted on believing in the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny?

"They were fighting because of us," Ted told the child. "They were fighting because something unexpected happened, because they couldn't explain it and understand it."

"Do we understand it?" Perry asked. Ted shook his head. "No, we don't, but in a way it's easier for us because it's happening to us."

On April 14, 2004 something "unexpected" happened to me and to Carole. We were doing pretty well in many ways -- good health, good jobs, and retirement in less than 10 years. We had planned a trip to Korea later that month, and I was to participate in several national level church functions as a teacher and leader. Also, I was very hopeful about improving my golf game -- and the friendships that go with it.

When I woke up on the bathroom floor, fully paralyzed, I had no idea what was coming next or how long would be the recovery. What I did know very early in the process was that the God I was taught to love and trust was One who came and moved in unexpected and often surprising ways. From the beginning, I knew that I was entering a new place in God's time -- and I did so with joy. After all, joy is really tremendous after a life changing event.

Let's think about it for a moment: how has your life changed in the past couple of years? How has your church changed in the last couple of years? Are you upset and angry about the changes? I suspect that many of you are upset and angry. I will pray for you because I have learned how to prosper by singing loud songs of worship in a situation where one might be tempted toward despair.

The daily lectionary for Thursday includes Ephesians 5: 15-20 from The Message:

So watch your step. Use your head. Make the most of every chance you get. These are desperate times! Don't live carelessly, unthinkingly. Make sure you understand what the Master wants. Don't drink too much wine. That cheapens your life. Drink the Spirit of God, huge draughts of him. Sing hymns instead of drinking songs! Sing songs from your heart to Christ. Sing praises over everything, any excuse for a song to God the Father in the name of our Master, Jesus Christ.

Whatever is wrong; whatever is painful; whatever is perplexing and difficult can be made joyful through the profoundly simple act of worship. "Any excuse for a song..." Let us just make sure that we sing our hymns of praise to the only One who can and will save us and make us whole!

Messes and Blue Skies

Dear friends,

This week marked a great milestone in my life. After 8 1/2 months of pain, discomfort, very hard work, and significant success, I am returning to my position as General Presbyter and Stated Clerk for Cherokee Presbytery. Since my recovery is by no means complete, I am very thankful that the Presbytery has employed Steve Bacon as my partner and colleague for reentry and adequate functioning.

As I begin work once again, my personal difficulties and challenges seem almost insignificant in light of the incredible human suffering in Southeast Asia. The following is a quotation from a letter written by Clifton Kirkpatrick, Stated Clerk of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church USA to the Christian community in that part of the world:

"I write to let you know that the hearts of your sisters and brothers in Christ in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) are reaching out to you as you seek to minister amidst the unspeakable tragedy and tremendous suffering brought to your people through the recent earthquake and tsunami. Presbyterian churches throughout the United States lifted you up in prayers yesterday in Sunday worship.

I also want you to know that Presbyterians are actively involved through ecumenical efforts in offering immediate relief to those who survived but lost their homes, their family members, and their livelihoods.

Beyond the prayers of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), and on behalf of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches, I want to assure you of prayers of intercession for you from the entire WARC family. Our prayers for you will continue throughout the many long months and years of rebuilding that lie ahead."

Whatever else you do today, please pray for this desperate part of the world -- and write a check!

Many of you will remember that when Cherokee Presbytery renewed our covenant relationship after my sixth year of service, the Presbytery took action to grant me a "sabbatical leave" at the end of my seventh year. The purpose of such a leave time is for me to create some "space" between me and my "job," so that I can more effectively consider my "calling" and more effective service on your behalf.

On reflection, I have had a sabbatical indeed. The Presbytery paid my full salary for three months in fulfillment of the disability requirements -- and then paid me nothing for the next 5 1/2 months. The first three months of my rehabilitation involved a good bit of meditating on the Word and the Confessions as I remember them from years of reading and hearing. There were times when I was brought down to simply meditating on every breath, because there were times when that was all I could manage!

From these challenging beginnings, I began to realize that God had called me to this great work, and that I would return one day -- but that everything would be different!

My return to work will involve people and places -- and the great mission to which God has called us and continues to call us every day. When a person like myself is flat on his back, or in a wheelchair, struggling for even the simplest bodily movements, political and theological differences inside and outside the church take on a remarkable level of insignificance. What is very significant is our relationships in Jesus Christ, our calling by him, and the trust that grows out of those relationships in the context of God's mission. In this regard, I suppose I am forever changed!

Yesterday's Old Testament lectionary selection was Joshua 1: 1-9.

"Only be strong and very courageous, being careful to act in accordance with all the law that my servant Moses commanded you; do not turn from it to the right hand or to the left, so that you may be successful wherever you go. This book of the law shall not depart out of your mouth; you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to act in accordance with all that is written in it. For then you shall make your way prosperous, and then you shall be successful. I hereby command you; be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."

I certainly needed to hear this. I am still not completely steady on my feet. Also, my hands are not anywhere close to fully functional. If this were not enough, I am feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the things that have gone on in Cherokee Presbytery during my absence. In a very real way, my "sabbatical" is over and I am faced with the great challenge of re-entering the Presbytery and its ongoing needs, pains, and concerns.

On the other hand, it is a time of great joy because I am being reunited with people and places that are important to me -- and to us! I just need to be "strong and courageous," and not "frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." With this in mind, Eugene Peterson's introductory material on Joshua in The Message, spoke to me in a special way.

"What we often consider to be the subject of religion -- ideas, truths, prayers, promises, beliefs -- are never permitted to have a life of their own apart from particular persons and actual places. Biblical religion has a low tolerance for 'great ideas' or 'sublime truths' or 'inspirational thoughts' apart from the people and places in which they occur. God's great love and purposes for us are worked out in the messes, storms and sins, blue skies, daily work in dreams of our common lives, working with us as we are and not as we should be."

Over the next few months you will find me at my desk in the Presbytery office -- Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I will also start visiting churches on Sundays. This Sunday Carole and I will visit the John Knox church in Marietta, were I will serve on a commission to install Fritz Bogar as pastor. The following Sunday, we will visit the Cedartown church for the installation of its new elders. I love Peterson's line that reminds us of our purpose -- "worked out in the messes, storms and sins, blue skies, daily work in our dreams of common lives, working with us as we are not as we should be."

Sometimes, you will find Steve Bacon at my desk in the Presbytery office -- Tuesdays and Thursdays. I am so thankful that God has called Steve and gifted him for this particular time in his ministry, and in ours. I am glad that God has sent Steve our way in a time of missional need. Also, I hope you will invite him to visit your church on Sundays. We are trying to be partners in Christ's ministry in every sense. His presence is my presence -- and my presence is also his presence! The goal through all of this is not simply to get me back to work, but rather that God's mission continues to be carried out in North Georgia and throughout the world. I hope that this will be a model for ministry everywhere!

There is so much more to say, but I must come to an end. Carole and I thank you with all our hearts for your faithful ministry to us throughout most of 2004. It has been a difficult time, but your loving presence and prayers have lightened the load. I hope you will pray for your pastors, elders, and deacons with a similar level of intensity. They, too, are carrying heavy burdens and need your support. Go ahead, make their day!


God's grace and peace be with you.
Jim