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:
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!
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!
posted by Pierce | 12:00 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home