Each of us have stories to tell that would benefit each other in ways we may never know. I'm trying to slow my pace in life so I'm able to see and hear what others are learning in their lives. I've noticed more often than not, vicarious learning is just as valuable as personal experience. The difference is our ability to actually take other people's life lessons to heart as we would our own.
As I visit with my hospice patients I tend to see how their way of life has worked for and against them. I can see the way their relationships with their family reflects who they were through their lives. I can hear their level of frustration regarding their inability to serve as they did when they were younger, healthier, and mobile. I listen to the stories they share of the experiences they've had that have impacted their lives both in good and bad ways. All this gives me a vicarious understanding of reasons to slow down and focus my attention more intently on the circumstances I'm experiencing through my day.
This weekend I'm attending a twenty-five year high-school reunion. I still struggle to believe it's been twenty-five years since I barely graduated. I know I'll be radically surprised to see how my friends from high-school have changed over the years. Many, if not most of them, I've not seen since graduation. I've interacted on Facebook with a number of them, which may make the reunion a bit easier to handle. But I suspect to find myself pretty darn melancholy as I drive home and reflect on all those years without properly connecting with these friends of mine.
I was flipping through old notebooks recently and found notes, letters, and cards written to me from other friends I've not seen since high-school, as well. These were relationships that had deep meaning in my life at that time. They encouraged me, prayed with me and for me, and were there to embrace me during the struggles I endured. Yet, somehow and for some reason I let go of these relationships to the point I would not even know how to contact them if I wanted...which I do.
How do we truly slow our lives to the point we're able to sustain these meaningful relationships? How do we do this in a healthy way that allows us to listen and learn from each others experiences...the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly of our lives?
Not to be morbid, but we really have no idea how many reunions we may have ahead of us. If we push aside the meaningfulness of these opportunities and simply chalk it up as another party, we may miss out on the purpose of the event...to reconnect, to reflect, and to actually learn from each other through the significant life lessons shared through our stories.
Feel free to slap me around if I don't slow down!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
How do I move forward?
My life is full. Packed to the hilt with memories, experiences, visions, and dreams. Yet for some reason I feel stuck, confused, off kilter with who I am and what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m healthy, alive, open, and available for whatever life has to throw at me, but I don’t have any leanings towards any particular direction or calling. If I remain doing what I’m doing, I know my contribution would be admirable. As a chaplain caring for the spiritual needs of the terminally ill, I know I’m serving well. I suspect God Himself would be satisfied with my level of giving and sacrifice. But I’m not.
Not too long ago I felt and heard God’s nudges in my life, giving me the bearings needed to do what I was intended to do. With these nudges I got married, moved to Florida in pursuit of hotel in the Bahamas, went to college, helped plant a church and became a pastor, moved to South Africa and served as a missionary, then a chaplain and foster parent. Now, though I’m still serving well, I don’t feel as if I’m living as deeply and meaningfully as God intends.
How do I move forward?
I know this is a tough question to ask, and I suspect the answer would be different for each of us. After all, each of us have approached life and experienced life differently. Some of us got married, some of us stayed single, some of us have been divorced, and some have remarried. Some of us have children, some of us chose not to or, like myself and my wife, simply couldn’t. Some of us became wealthy, some of us are living paycheck to paycheck or, even worse, out of work altogether. Some of us are healthy, some of us are struggling with health issues, or attempting to endure the tragedy of a loved one’s health issues.
Regardless of life’s circumstances, each of us needs to pursue the passions of life God intended for us. I know this to be true because, as I mentioned before, I’ve lived in the depth of those passions. I’ve experienced first hand the fullness of life available to us all, and I know there’s more to be pursued, but I don’t know how to move forward!
For some reason I believe this coming Easter week is a perfect opportunity for me to glean some meaning from those of you out there asking similar questions and/or those of you who have considered these questions before. I have no idea what I will be able to do with your answers, thoughts, perspectives, or beliefs regarding what I’m asking for here…but I would really appreciate something, anything from you for me to ponder and chew for awhile! God bless you as you consider offering me…anything. Happy Holy Week!
Not too long ago I felt and heard God’s nudges in my life, giving me the bearings needed to do what I was intended to do. With these nudges I got married, moved to Florida in pursuit of hotel in the Bahamas, went to college, helped plant a church and became a pastor, moved to South Africa and served as a missionary, then a chaplain and foster parent. Now, though I’m still serving well, I don’t feel as if I’m living as deeply and meaningfully as God intends.
How do I move forward?
I know this is a tough question to ask, and I suspect the answer would be different for each of us. After all, each of us have approached life and experienced life differently. Some of us got married, some of us stayed single, some of us have been divorced, and some have remarried. Some of us have children, some of us chose not to or, like myself and my wife, simply couldn’t. Some of us became wealthy, some of us are living paycheck to paycheck or, even worse, out of work altogether. Some of us are healthy, some of us are struggling with health issues, or attempting to endure the tragedy of a loved one’s health issues.
Regardless of life’s circumstances, each of us needs to pursue the passions of life God intended for us. I know this to be true because, as I mentioned before, I’ve lived in the depth of those passions. I’ve experienced first hand the fullness of life available to us all, and I know there’s more to be pursued, but I don’t know how to move forward!
For some reason I believe this coming Easter week is a perfect opportunity for me to glean some meaning from those of you out there asking similar questions and/or those of you who have considered these questions before. I have no idea what I will be able to do with your answers, thoughts, perspectives, or beliefs regarding what I’m asking for here…but I would really appreciate something, anything from you for me to ponder and chew for awhile! God bless you as you consider offering me…anything. Happy Holy Week!
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Lenten past, present, and future...
Although I'm pretty nostalgic at times, over the last several years I've tried to live deeply in the present. I've tried not to allow memories of previous moments to distort my understanding of what I'm doing or experiencing now.
Today, however, I was reminded by a friend of a Lenten devotion I wrote for Church Resource Ministries while I was living in South Africa. It told the story of my earliest attempts to face the tragedy of death along side a friend who was coming to his end. It's probably best simply to rewrite it for you:
"As I sat next to Alex, he struggled to breathe while sharing and confessing his guilt for having lived a life that was coming to an end like this - a shriveled resemblance of the thirty-three year old healthy and humorous man he was just weeks before. The promiscuous work of prostituting himself to support his heroin addiction had finally taken its toll. Now, feeling isolated and distant from everyone and anyone who visited him at this South African hospice, he alone fought the demons in his head who accused him so convincingly.
Everthing within me was in total agreement with Alex' assessment regarding the summation of the life he had lived. The AIDS at war with is immune system was invited into his body by his poor decisions. Yet God Himself was crying out on Alex' behalf. Alex no longer needed to hear of the condemnation that awaited him if he continued living as he did. He needed to hear the words of grace that call out to him from his loving Father in heaven. And for these last few moments of his life, God allowed me, as Alex' friend, to trumpet those words to him. With passion, God allowed me to cry out louder than the demons in Alex' head the very words of invitation he needed to hear - that he no longer needed to own the guilt which ruled his soul. He no longer needed to harbor the anguish the world used to punish him. His soul could now rise in confidence against these foes with the strength Jesus provides as he cried out to God...even with his faint whisper."
As I speak with my patients suffering, in many cases, just as Alex did. As I speak with friends and family in regular meaningful conversation. As I interact with strangers on the street, in stores, on the phone, or whenever or whomever I'm speaking with...I need to remember this last conversation I had with my friend Alex.
As little as most of us are willing or wanting to share about our lives at any given moment, I need to remember that deep inside us all are these demons from our past and present that taunt us about our future. They try to keep their thumb pressed against our desires and passions to move forward and make the difference we are intended to make in this world. They tell us our lives are for nothing and we should be satisfied with the puniness of our accomplishments and sulk in our mediocrity. Yet all we need is someone to incarnate the truth that God created us for those differences He intended for us to make. That there is greatness within each of us that needs to be presented to this world in order for others to take their desires and passions further, as well.
Just as Nelson Mandela said....
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
My hope is, as I enter into this Lenten period, I will allow myself permission to live in the moment without pushing aside the experiences that make me who I am today, yet leaving behind me those demons that so easily hold me back. And I pray, each conversation I have, with friend, family, and stranger will be God's voice trumpeting His call to those I speak for His greatness to shine through us all.
Enjoy this time before Easter Sunday. Use it to figure out what you're supposed to be about.
Today, however, I was reminded by a friend of a Lenten devotion I wrote for Church Resource Ministries while I was living in South Africa. It told the story of my earliest attempts to face the tragedy of death along side a friend who was coming to his end. It's probably best simply to rewrite it for you:
"As I sat next to Alex, he struggled to breathe while sharing and confessing his guilt for having lived a life that was coming to an end like this - a shriveled resemblance of the thirty-three year old healthy and humorous man he was just weeks before. The promiscuous work of prostituting himself to support his heroin addiction had finally taken its toll. Now, feeling isolated and distant from everyone and anyone who visited him at this South African hospice, he alone fought the demons in his head who accused him so convincingly.
Everthing within me was in total agreement with Alex' assessment regarding the summation of the life he had lived. The AIDS at war with is immune system was invited into his body by his poor decisions. Yet God Himself was crying out on Alex' behalf. Alex no longer needed to hear of the condemnation that awaited him if he continued living as he did. He needed to hear the words of grace that call out to him from his loving Father in heaven. And for these last few moments of his life, God allowed me, as Alex' friend, to trumpet those words to him. With passion, God allowed me to cry out louder than the demons in Alex' head the very words of invitation he needed to hear - that he no longer needed to own the guilt which ruled his soul. He no longer needed to harbor the anguish the world used to punish him. His soul could now rise in confidence against these foes with the strength Jesus provides as he cried out to God...even with his faint whisper."
As I speak with my patients suffering, in many cases, just as Alex did. As I speak with friends and family in regular meaningful conversation. As I interact with strangers on the street, in stores, on the phone, or whenever or whomever I'm speaking with...I need to remember this last conversation I had with my friend Alex.
As little as most of us are willing or wanting to share about our lives at any given moment, I need to remember that deep inside us all are these demons from our past and present that taunt us about our future. They try to keep their thumb pressed against our desires and passions to move forward and make the difference we are intended to make in this world. They tell us our lives are for nothing and we should be satisfied with the puniness of our accomplishments and sulk in our mediocrity. Yet all we need is someone to incarnate the truth that God created us for those differences He intended for us to make. That there is greatness within each of us that needs to be presented to this world in order for others to take their desires and passions further, as well.
Just as Nelson Mandela said....
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
My hope is, as I enter into this Lenten period, I will allow myself permission to live in the moment without pushing aside the experiences that make me who I am today, yet leaving behind me those demons that so easily hold me back. And I pray, each conversation I have, with friend, family, and stranger will be God's voice trumpeting His call to those I speak for His greatness to shine through us all.
Enjoy this time before Easter Sunday. Use it to figure out what you're supposed to be about.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Stop This Train...
As many of you may already know, I'm a hospice chaplain. I care spiritually for the terminally ill. I see patients, young and old, who are aware of their lives coming to an end. I speak to them on terms of connecting with God and themselves in ways, more frequently than not, they've not thought about before. I ask them to consider where God's taken them through their lives up to this point, from birth until now. We read scripture verses, we talk about the significance of their current circumstances, we reflect on what truly matters to them at this stage in their lives. We pray deeply, asking God to help them connect the dots of the memorable moments they've had so they can seemingly make sense of where He's taken them.
Over the last several weeks and months I've reflected on why I've taken on such a role as a hospice chaplain. I've had lots of conversations with friends who wonder how I do what I do. Somewhere along the way I've collected an understanding of my past. I experienced from early teen years to now many deaths, both family and friends. Each one impacted me deeply. Each death provoked me to want to live more meaningfully and with more passion than before. As a result I've done and experienced wonderful things, with no regrets.
But, most recently, I've found myself realizing once again, I want to slow down. I still want to live meaningfully and passionately, but I want to slow down enough to connect more deeply with friends and family, so my relationships, not just my experiences, are filled with meaning and passion.
One of my patients who I connected with pretty deeply died yesterday. I spoke with the patient's spouse yesterday morning and I made arrangements to visit the patient this morning since yesterday I was on a different route, but would be in the patient's area today. When I arrived at the patient's home and was informed by a neighbor that the patient had died, I was very disappointed in myself.
Obviously the relationship between my patients and friends and family are different, but I've come to appreciate the need to make the moments I'm together with those I care about more meaningful...not to take any moment for granted any longer.
I realize I'm probably overstating such a desire, but what's life for if not to deepen the relationships that God's placed in my life? To make each moment count, whether it be quietly watching a sunset with my wife, or loudly enjoying a football game with my friends...and not allowing either of those moments to slip away with no meaning.
If you get a moment, take a listen to John Mayer's tune "Stop This Train." A friend of mine, Danny, turned me onto it with a video he posted on Facebook. The video was all about connecting with friends. The song is bound to ruin you in a good way. Pretty sure we can all use a little ruining like this.
Over the last several weeks and months I've reflected on why I've taken on such a role as a hospice chaplain. I've had lots of conversations with friends who wonder how I do what I do. Somewhere along the way I've collected an understanding of my past. I experienced from early teen years to now many deaths, both family and friends. Each one impacted me deeply. Each death provoked me to want to live more meaningfully and with more passion than before. As a result I've done and experienced wonderful things, with no regrets.
But, most recently, I've found myself realizing once again, I want to slow down. I still want to live meaningfully and passionately, but I want to slow down enough to connect more deeply with friends and family, so my relationships, not just my experiences, are filled with meaning and passion.
One of my patients who I connected with pretty deeply died yesterday. I spoke with the patient's spouse yesterday morning and I made arrangements to visit the patient this morning since yesterday I was on a different route, but would be in the patient's area today. When I arrived at the patient's home and was informed by a neighbor that the patient had died, I was very disappointed in myself.
Obviously the relationship between my patients and friends and family are different, but I've come to appreciate the need to make the moments I'm together with those I care about more meaningful...not to take any moment for granted any longer.
I realize I'm probably overstating such a desire, but what's life for if not to deepen the relationships that God's placed in my life? To make each moment count, whether it be quietly watching a sunset with my wife, or loudly enjoying a football game with my friends...and not allowing either of those moments to slip away with no meaning.
If you get a moment, take a listen to John Mayer's tune "Stop This Train." A friend of mine, Danny, turned me onto it with a video he posted on Facebook. The video was all about connecting with friends. The song is bound to ruin you in a good way. Pretty sure we can all use a little ruining like this.
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