Wheezing on the Sidelines

For four weeks I have been laid aside with the perfect storm of virus and infection that has given me an asthmatic-type condition. For two weeks I gasped and wheezed while waiting for the antibiotic and prednisone to take effect. They never did. Finally a nebulizer brought back the ability breathe with comfort again, and to sleep at night. It’s been over a month of lying low, but it hasn’t been devoid of deep moments and profound gratitude.

Somewhere out of the fog  a crystal-clear memory smacked me from forty-plus years ago.  It was the memory of the last time I felt unable to breathe. My college team was  competing in a big Track and Field invitational in Claremont, California. It was May of 1970 in that smog-shrouded suburb just East of Los Angeles.  The pollution was so dense on that hot afternoon that the runners on the other side of the track were colorless and indistinct in the haze.  I was running the 3000 meter steeplechase in which I had been leading until the home stretch.  Then everything went foggy, my legs went limp and somebody turned off the oxygen.  I hit and fell over the next to last barrier.  Staggering  in slow motion for the next eighty yards I literally crawled over the final barrier.  I was out on  my feet, resembling one of  those aphid-like specters crawling to the finish of the Ironman triathlon.  The combination of heat and smog had put me in severe oxygen debt.  Falling across the line after three runners had passed me in my semi-comatose state, I could barely gasp enough air to stay conscious.

My coach, not known for his bedside manner, probed me with his toe and a couple of questions, and left me to my own devices.  For over an hour I could not get off the ground.  Looking back, it was a lot more serious than I thought at the time.  Some water, some shade, and a long time later I was able to move. In the meantime my chest ached, as it would for several days afterwards.

While I was helpless, however, I observed our coach cruising around looking for four guys to run the mile relay. It was the last event and if we could score any points at all we could win the meet.  Everyone was exhausted, but I remember my admiration for the decathlete who had run four events, the long-jumper and sprinter for whom a quarter mile was a gut-buster, the middle distance guy who had doubled already, and the lone quarter miler who would anchor this ragtag team.  I so wanted to contribute, but knew I was helpless to do so.  The vision of those guys stepping up and carrying the team is one of my sweetest memories of competition.

I feel  that way today. I want to run a different kind of race, but I am temporarily unable to function in my normal capacity. But, I see other men keeping the pace, stepping up, and carrying the baton.  Leary, Art, Brent, Dave, Paul, Terry, Ron, John, Dean, Peter, Gary, and a dozen others run on.  While I wheeze my way back to health it is not lost on me that the call of the gospel, the building up of the body of Christ, and the courageous advance of ministry is not mine alone.  I so love and admire the men I’m teamed with. I am proud of your devotion, all the more when I am sedentary and you are pressing on.  David was humbled by his mighty men. I am humbled and grateful for each of you.  When I breathe, and run, and carry my leg of the relay again, it will be with a fresh reverence for the ongoing faithfulness of the men I run with.

"Be the Man!" Week 16

Grace and mercy work in harmony, but they are not identical.  Grace addresses and removes our guilt before a holy God.  Mercy addresses our misery and suffering, evoked from a loving Father who cares.  There may be some subtle theological nuances that are slighted by these definitions, but these distinctions give us some practical footholds.  Mercy is that welling up of compassionate concern, that urge to reach out, to fix something broken, to bandage a wound.  We learn mercy from our Father, and from His Son, who unquenchably move toward our miseries.  The Father never practiced kingship from a regal distance, but as creator and sustainer chose to involve himself in real, scabby, infected, miserable history.  The Son became acquainted with the immeasurable grief and multitudinous diseases of real people.  He touched, He wept, and He healed.  All because of mercy; that spontaneous, reaching, touching, and remedial love.  It’s love that doesn’t stay inside, but displays its heart for the wounded, the oppressed, and even the foolish.  Our misery evokes His mercy.  How close and connected is our Savior!  How poignant and personal is His mercy.  And now mercy like His is to echo into our time and space through us, his disciples.  Do I allow the miseries I see, however inherited and deserved, to evoke true mercy as a first response from my heart?

"Be the Man!" Week 15

It was a dark, blustery and slushy night as I trudged toward the entrance of the supermarket.  After a late meeting I was stopping to pick up a few items my wife had requested.  Suddenly a man flew out of the shadows, bursting past me in a full sprint.  Just as he went by my shoulder, a woman screamed: “He’s got my purse!”   My reflex bypassed my rational mind and the next thing I knew I was into my Roy-Rogers-to-the-Rescue chase of the bad guy.  We ran around the corner, and I swear I was gaining on him, but it did cross my mind: “What do I do if I actually catch him.”  A yell escaped from my heaving lungs: “Drop it!”  The purse flew over his shoulder and skidded up to the curb of a darkened gas pump. I stopped to pick it up, but not before shouting in my biggest voice what would happen to this miscreant should he ever attempt this crime again.  The purse was returned to its grateful owner.  Milk and eggs were bought for breakfast.  A tiny but concrete bit of justice was applied to a sick planet.  How I wish justice was always that simple to spot, or that quick to administer.  But often it is not.  Usually the need for justice lies under the murky sludge of economic systems, hidden legal trip wires, and slippery semantics.  Getting justice is normally a long slog of inglorious, expensive sacrifice.  Sometimes we ourselves are the victims, left feeling powerless to respond to unfairness and injustice.  It has always been so.  That is why God requires his men to “act justly,” as a consistent character trait; to overcome evil with good.  Am I—are you—ready to meet this challenge in this time of history?

"Be the Man!" Week 14

George Jenkins, Sampson Davi,s and Rameck Hunt call themselves “The Three Doctors.”  They are all products of broken homes from Newark’s inner city.  Their fathers were mostly absent.  Their trajectory could have easily been predicted by any sociologist or social worker, except for one remarkable pledge.  As high school seniors they made a pact with each other to go to college and then on to medical school.  Each accomplished his mission, but something still ate at their souls.  They missed their dads.  They were hurt by their dads’ absence and wounded by some of their actions in the past.  But instead of seething in bitterness or burying painful memories, each of these young African Americans decided as a son to bridge the gap with their fathers.  Though the results were less than perfect, as they document in their book The Bond, the effort has reverberated with the promise God gave to all children who honor their parents:  “...that you may enjoy long life on the earth.” (Ephesians 6:3)  Even stumbling upon this life-giving truth—perhaps not even realizing it was from the Bible-- transformed the lives of these young men.  How much more would be the impact of deliberately choosing to honor one’s parents in conscious obedience of the fifth commandment.  Long life, vitality, and safe habitation are the powerful incentives that induce this honor toward parents.  We ignore it to our peril, but we can practice it for our blessing! Roger

"Be the Man!" Week 13

I bow the knee to the Geek Squad. They flipped my switch from “no” to “go.” They rescued the hopeless and gave new life! After many unsanctified frustrations and fulminations with my new desktop computer that was not linking with the internet, talking to my laptop, or printing, I made the call. A very few minutes after arriving a respectful, be-speckled twenty-something had me up and running. He never broke a sweat, and gave no hint of condescension for my lack of computer savvy. The transformation in both my computer and my attitude was nearly miraculous. It was money well spent (ask my wife). This was yet another teachable moment for problem-solving, self-sufficient, I-can-figure-this-out me. How many times have I expended prodigious but hapless energy trying to figure it out, measure up, get it done, or make it work? Then, in utter frustration and defeat I ask someone with expertise for help, and they make the impossible look like child’s play. Lesson learned. Again. Humility really is a grace that gives in all directions, both to the humble who ask, and to the strong who help. Everyone wins and the humble learn. It’s the difference between night and day.
Roger

"Be the Man!" Week 12

“A tool’s got to work where the work’s being done!” This was my Dad’s proclamation when I questioned him about drawing a line the length of a sheet of plywood using his Parker ballpoint pen. He had just a few minutes’ time between the office and dinner to work on the trailer he was building. Rolling up his sleeves and taking off his tie, he then grabbed for the only marking tool he could find; his pen. From one perspective this would seem an unwise deployment of this particular implement. Technically, it was designed for use on paper, in the office, not for the dusty environment of the garage and the rigors of carpentry. However, from another angle, because the need was urgent, and nothing else was available, the pen could serve the purpose. Surprisingly, it worked, and the scene was repeated many times! This calls to mind how often I have questioned the Father’s deployment of me in a similar situation.  Lord, why don’t you wait until you have a better tool? Can’t you send someone with more wisdom, training or time? What am I doing here when I feel so outgunned and overwhelmed by the challenge? Why don’t we wait until we are ready, all the proper tools are gathered, and all the conditions are right before we tackle this problem. But, time after time He seems to be saying: “You are here, and I need you now: work where the work’s being done. And, surprisingly, under that pressing urgency, a capacity and endurance is discovered that I never knew existed. He can use His tools wherever, and whenever, they are needed! The question is: am I willing to be deployed according to His purposes, not just my preconceptions?
Roger

"Be the Man!" Week 11

Pondering God’s forgiveness got me thinking about tankless water heaters. Hang with me on this. Tankless water heaters offer instant, on-demand hot water where and when it is needed.  As appliances they are marvels of efficiency.  Many believers, I fear, think God’s gracious forgiveness works the same way: it’s on-demand, and newly heated for each application. The problem this image creates is that we feel we are imposing on God’s patience and goodness when we confess our sin. We don’t want to bother him with yet another call for his grace, so we delay, waiting for a more legitimate use of his forgiving warmth. This causes us to try to manage our sin and call upon God’s grace only when we really, really need it. Instead, we ought to think of God’s forgiveness as a standing reservoir of pre-heated grace, purchased by Jesus Christ through his work on the cross, ready to flow into our lives. We call for this grace when we feel convicted of sin, not worrying that He is inconvenienced or surprised, or that some new work needs to be initiated. He has already stored up all the grace, forgiveness and restoration we will ever need, and graciously waits for us to agree with Him that it is needed here and now. 

Roger