Pockets of Resistance
Dear friends,
Last week I reported that I had undergone the driver's evaluation program at the Shepherd Center, and that I did quite well. After last week's message I drove the first leg of our trip to the Nashville area. It was only about 35 minutes but it was a start. I did not drive anymore until Monday morning, when Carole took the truck to work and left me with our Camry. There was still a lingering concern about my ability to close the door; to start the car; to push the key while turning it for removal. After all that, I made it from my home to the Presbytery office and back home again -- solo!
Tuesday evening we enjoyed our weekly dinner with the Camp Cherokee staff and campers. The dining room was packed with campers and noisy beyond belief. I loved every minute of it. By the way, I am so thankful for Kelly Howington and his staff. They are doing a great job. Carole drove to Camp; I am not quite ready for Wilderness Camp Road with all of its hills and curves. My arms are still not completely secure steering the car. However, I am sure that I will drive to Camp before the summer is over.
As we were coming home that evening, Carole commented that we needed gas and she would stop so that I would not have to get gas Wednesday morning when I drove to work. In response, I protested quickly -- but respectfully. After all, Carole has done almost everything for me for the past 14 months. My logic was that if I am to resume my former lifestyle I would have to put gas in the car on a regular basis. Having made this grand statement, I began to think about what would be involved in driving myself to the gas station and filling the tank. My immediate thoughts turned to the numerous exercises I had been doing for the past year, mostly to regain my strength and to improve my range of motion. I could see in my mind the stretching exercises with Carole early in the morning and the miles of stationary bike riding I had been doing faithfully every day. I remember well those difficult days at the Shepherd Center when I was taking my first steps. It is hard to describe how frightening it was not to be able to walk -- and then how hard it was to take those first steps. Again, I had to learn strength, flexibility, and range of motion all over again. I was like a baby learning how to walk, but without benefit of that nicely padded diaper when I fall down.
Anyway, Monday morning I got into the car and drove immediately to a nearby convenience store with self-serve gas pumps. As I pulled up to the pump I noticed a young woman with a little girl in a car seat starting to pump gas. As I pulled myself out of the car, I called to her and asked her if she would be willing to help me if needed. She could see pretty quickly that I was not able to move very well and she responded without hesitation that she would be available. As it turned out, I did not need her -- but I thanked her for her willingness to help.
On leaving the car, I pulled the lever that opened the door to the gas cap, which proved to be my first challenge. Having to push down and twist the gas cap was reminiscent of my adventure with the Listerine bottle a few weeks ago. It took several efforts and a good bit of "shaking hands" but I was able to remove the cap without assistance. At this point I was worried about whether I could handle the hose. I soon realized that this was the least of my worries; the next step was to insert my credit card and withdraw it -- quickly. It was "quickly" that concerned me.
As you probably know, one of the prominent presentations of my particular variety of spinal cord injury is "hypertonia." Also known as "spasticity," hypertonia is increased muscle tightness that prevents me from doing anything quickly -- like with drawing a credit card from a gas pump. Once again, I give thanks to Carole for her faithful stretching, and to my physical and occupational therapists who taught me how to use my body as though it were normal. Again, it was agonizingly hard work, but if I did not engage the regular discipline, my body would become inactive and deformed.
After four attempts I succeeded in getting the card processed. The next step was easy; I had no trouble whatever picking up the hose, putting it in the fill pipe, squeezing the fill lever and locking it. As I filled the tank, I was definitely on the verge of strutting; once again, I appeared to be accomplishing another life task, that is, until I reached the last step in the process. Putting the gas cap back on the fill pipe was without a doubt the hardest task of all. It was just hard! As I was trying and trying, I kept looking at my young, strong potential helper at the next gas island. Although she was willing, I was proud. I worked until nearly breaking a sweat -- and the cap finally clicked into place. I sat in the car seat exhausted but satisfied that I had taken yet another missional step; that is, I am now even more able to carry out the specific calling that God has placed on me as your General Presbyter and Stated Clerk. I hope you remember that my goal is not merely to "get well," but to carry out the call to service that is inherent in my Baptism. It was truly a great morning!
Last evening, I told Carole of my adventures and my successes; to say the least, it was an evening of celebration. I was coming along beautifully and gratefully. The strength and freedom to move in new and challenging ways has sent my spirit soaring. Although I have always been optimistic about my future, my trip to the gas pump kicked me up a couple of notches on the optimism scale. From here there is nothing I would not try -- and nothing that would stop me from succeeding. That is, until this morning.
As Carole stretched me at 5:15 a.m., I was feeling pretty loose and, again, very optimistic about my prospects for success today. At the end of our stretching ritual, Carole puts my straightened leg on her shoulder for a hamstring stretch. It had been a good morning so far, but Carole tried something that she had not done for several weeks: she pulled down on my right foot and asked me to "resist" her. When I did so, the "hypertonia" throughout my upper body kicked into high gear. After all that good stretching, my upper body muscles protested loudly her attempts to engage my uncooperative foot in exercise that would enable it to join the rest of my body in missional activity. Instead of cooperation, I got resistance.
Almost immediately, I thought about the "Common Assumptions as We
Continue the Journey," on the "About Us" page at www.cherokeepby.com
. The section entitled, "We Are a Community Organized for Mission not Maintenance," suggests several questions about the critical difference between mission and maintenance. An important question in this category is, "How will we deal with resistance to missional transformation-i.e. "talking mission" but
"living maintenance?"
A relatively small part of my body was protesting loudly that my body was engaging new, exciting, and potentially dangerous activity. That little foot at the end of my leg was not going along with the program -- and its resistance affected the rest of the body. No matter how much I talk about my new mission in life, I must contend with the painful truth that not all of me is moving ahead.
Think about your church family today. What is it that you talk about? What is it that you fear most? How do your talk and your fear affect your congregational output in terms of missional proclamation and service? It is those pockets of resistance that really kill us. In response, we have several options: ignore the resistance and hope it will go away; keep pushing no matter how much the resistance brings tension to the body; carefully nurture and exercise the resistance so as to "win it over" to the cause of the body's true mission.
To some extent we must engage all three options. There is a fourth however, I believe. My recovery experience over the last 14 months has involved working with those parts of the body that are ready for exercise and renewed mission. In many instances, those parts have become so strong and flexible that they have brought along the less willing parts and groups of parts. I do not wish to minimize how difficult this is, but I simply have no other goal than the authentic mission for which my body -- and the Church -- was created!
Pockets of resistance are inevitable when you are doing important work. If you are not doing important work, there is never resistance.
Blessings,
Jim
Last week I reported that I had undergone the driver's evaluation program at the Shepherd Center, and that I did quite well. After last week's message I drove the first leg of our trip to the Nashville area. It was only about 35 minutes but it was a start. I did not drive anymore until Monday morning, when Carole took the truck to work and left me with our Camry. There was still a lingering concern about my ability to close the door; to start the car; to push the key while turning it for removal. After all that, I made it from my home to the Presbytery office and back home again -- solo!
Tuesday evening we enjoyed our weekly dinner with the Camp Cherokee staff and campers. The dining room was packed with campers and noisy beyond belief. I loved every minute of it. By the way, I am so thankful for Kelly Howington and his staff. They are doing a great job. Carole drove to Camp; I am not quite ready for Wilderness Camp Road with all of its hills and curves. My arms are still not completely secure steering the car. However, I am sure that I will drive to Camp before the summer is over.
As we were coming home that evening, Carole commented that we needed gas and she would stop so that I would not have to get gas Wednesday morning when I drove to work. In response, I protested quickly -- but respectfully. After all, Carole has done almost everything for me for the past 14 months. My logic was that if I am to resume my former lifestyle I would have to put gas in the car on a regular basis. Having made this grand statement, I began to think about what would be involved in driving myself to the gas station and filling the tank. My immediate thoughts turned to the numerous exercises I had been doing for the past year, mostly to regain my strength and to improve my range of motion. I could see in my mind the stretching exercises with Carole early in the morning and the miles of stationary bike riding I had been doing faithfully every day. I remember well those difficult days at the Shepherd Center when I was taking my first steps. It is hard to describe how frightening it was not to be able to walk -- and then how hard it was to take those first steps. Again, I had to learn strength, flexibility, and range of motion all over again. I was like a baby learning how to walk, but without benefit of that nicely padded diaper when I fall down.
Anyway, Monday morning I got into the car and drove immediately to a nearby convenience store with self-serve gas pumps. As I pulled up to the pump I noticed a young woman with a little girl in a car seat starting to pump gas. As I pulled myself out of the car, I called to her and asked her if she would be willing to help me if needed. She could see pretty quickly that I was not able to move very well and she responded without hesitation that she would be available. As it turned out, I did not need her -- but I thanked her for her willingness to help.
On leaving the car, I pulled the lever that opened the door to the gas cap, which proved to be my first challenge. Having to push down and twist the gas cap was reminiscent of my adventure with the Listerine bottle a few weeks ago. It took several efforts and a good bit of "shaking hands" but I was able to remove the cap without assistance. At this point I was worried about whether I could handle the hose. I soon realized that this was the least of my worries; the next step was to insert my credit card and withdraw it -- quickly. It was "quickly" that concerned me.
As you probably know, one of the prominent presentations of my particular variety of spinal cord injury is "hypertonia." Also known as "spasticity," hypertonia is increased muscle tightness that prevents me from doing anything quickly -- like with drawing a credit card from a gas pump. Once again, I give thanks to Carole for her faithful stretching, and to my physical and occupational therapists who taught me how to use my body as though it were normal. Again, it was agonizingly hard work, but if I did not engage the regular discipline, my body would become inactive and deformed.
After four attempts I succeeded in getting the card processed. The next step was easy; I had no trouble whatever picking up the hose, putting it in the fill pipe, squeezing the fill lever and locking it. As I filled the tank, I was definitely on the verge of strutting; once again, I appeared to be accomplishing another life task, that is, until I reached the last step in the process. Putting the gas cap back on the fill pipe was without a doubt the hardest task of all. It was just hard! As I was trying and trying, I kept looking at my young, strong potential helper at the next gas island. Although she was willing, I was proud. I worked until nearly breaking a sweat -- and the cap finally clicked into place. I sat in the car seat exhausted but satisfied that I had taken yet another missional step; that is, I am now even more able to carry out the specific calling that God has placed on me as your General Presbyter and Stated Clerk. I hope you remember that my goal is not merely to "get well," but to carry out the call to service that is inherent in my Baptism. It was truly a great morning!
Last evening, I told Carole of my adventures and my successes; to say the least, it was an evening of celebration. I was coming along beautifully and gratefully. The strength and freedom to move in new and challenging ways has sent my spirit soaring. Although I have always been optimistic about my future, my trip to the gas pump kicked me up a couple of notches on the optimism scale. From here there is nothing I would not try -- and nothing that would stop me from succeeding. That is, until this morning.
As Carole stretched me at 5:15 a.m., I was feeling pretty loose and, again, very optimistic about my prospects for success today. At the end of our stretching ritual, Carole puts my straightened leg on her shoulder for a hamstring stretch. It had been a good morning so far, but Carole tried something that she had not done for several weeks: she pulled down on my right foot and asked me to "resist" her. When I did so, the "hypertonia" throughout my upper body kicked into high gear. After all that good stretching, my upper body muscles protested loudly her attempts to engage my uncooperative foot in exercise that would enable it to join the rest of my body in missional activity. Instead of cooperation, I got resistance.
Almost immediately, I thought about the "Common Assumptions as We
Continue the Journey," on the "About Us" page at www.cherokeepby.com
. The section entitled, "We Are a Community Organized for Mission not Maintenance," suggests several questions about the critical difference between mission and maintenance. An important question in this category is, "How will we deal with resistance to missional transformation-i.e. "talking mission" but
"living maintenance?"
A relatively small part of my body was protesting loudly that my body was engaging new, exciting, and potentially dangerous activity. That little foot at the end of my leg was not going along with the program -- and its resistance affected the rest of the body. No matter how much I talk about my new mission in life, I must contend with the painful truth that not all of me is moving ahead.
Think about your church family today. What is it that you talk about? What is it that you fear most? How do your talk and your fear affect your congregational output in terms of missional proclamation and service? It is those pockets of resistance that really kill us. In response, we have several options: ignore the resistance and hope it will go away; keep pushing no matter how much the resistance brings tension to the body; carefully nurture and exercise the resistance so as to "win it over" to the cause of the body's true mission.
To some extent we must engage all three options. There is a fourth however, I believe. My recovery experience over the last 14 months has involved working with those parts of the body that are ready for exercise and renewed mission. In many instances, those parts have become so strong and flexible that they have brought along the less willing parts and groups of parts. I do not wish to minimize how difficult this is, but I simply have no other goal than the authentic mission for which my body -- and the Church -- was created!
Pockets of resistance are inevitable when you are doing important work. If you are not doing important work, there is never resistance.
Blessings,
Jim
posted by Pierce | 8:00 AM
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