A Clearing Season - Easter Sunday

To be honest, there really isn't much else that needs to be said.  Our whole purpose, our whole lives center on this one truth.  He is risen!  He is risen indeed!

As we move from the gut-wrenching week of Holy Week, from the celebration and excitement of Palm Sunday, to the betrayal and denial of Maundy Thursday, to the ultimate suffering of Good Friday, we know that in the end, the love of Jesus Christ can conquer anything.  So little matters in our ordinary lives, the only thing that matters is the cross, the empty tomb and the promise of Easter.

I really have very little to say, I've said enough over the last six weeks.  I know I have a lot to work on, but as I've noted, I'm still a work in progress, and God isn't finished with me yet.  I know I struggle with those that are on the periphery, those who need me to see them as the beautiful children of God that they are, and I need to work on that.  I know I have to use the ultimate prayer more often, "Thy will be done", and I plan to work on that too.

This Lenten Journey has been painful, it has led to a great deal of self-examination, and I've seen a great deal of the flaws that dominate my life.  But I've also been able to see and accept that I have some positive traits that I bring to the relationships in my life.  The greatest thing that this Lenten Journey has provided me is that there have been some who have traveled with me the entire way, and I appreciate that.  And I also have some who have jumped in at various points, and I appreciate that too.  As I like to say, if I can reach at least one or two people through my blog posts, I view it as a success.

I put "Sandy's Benediction" as my wallpaper on my computer for my Lenten Journey, and I think I'll keep it for a while as I move on for the rest of the journey.  To close, here are those words that I'll do my best to live by:

A Clearing Season - Consecration

“If we want to know what salvation and life truly meant to Jesus, and therefore what they must mean for us, we will have to go all the way to a hill called Calvary.  We will have to stand in the shadow of the cross.  Only there will we encounter the sacred in its most painful and powerful reality.  Only there will we discover the deepest meaning of this clearing season.”

Houston to Atlanta.  The long six weeks of traveling every single week in North America and South America is finally over.  I’m home.

As I thought about writing my sixth and final installment of my Lenten Journey, I realized I was completely empty.  I was tapped out.   After five weeks of committing to writing about my Lenten Journey each week, I had emptied my heart and my soul, and I had nothing left to give.

I also had driven myself into a deep state of depression.  For me, it wasn’t entirely unexpected.  As I wrote about last September in my blog post “I Feel Like I’m Dying Alive”, depression is a devastating disease for so many.  When I wrote my blog post, I described my brother Bill, and I described my son Patrick, but I was also describing me.  The good news for me is that I know myself, I recognize when I’m in such a state, and in my own way, can deal with it and fight through it.  While many would and do ask the question, “how can you possibly be depressed?”,  read my post from last September, yes, it makes no sense, but that is the reality of depression.

The truly good news in all of this is that through my emptiness, I was ready to be filled again.  I also had heightened senses to experience some incredible moments through our church services, adult education and the reading this week.  My challenge is to try to put it all together in a cohesive message that captures the beauty of Palm Sunday and the days leading up to the Crucifixion.  Where to start?

Let’s start with the church service.  I’ve always said my favorite service of the year is Maundy Thursday, but I’d probably have to say Palm Sunday is also near the top.  I love the celebration, the children singing, entering the church waving palm branches.  It’s exciting, but nonetheless, you know what’s coming, so it’s bittersweet.  That is the “profound mystery of Holy Week”. 

The sermon was incredible, but our Senior Pastor Chris Henry never disappoints.  The quote above comes from the sermon, and quite honestly, there were so many quotable moments in the sermon.  If you read my blog post from last week, you know that I’m “challenged” by poverty, by being in the midst of the slums.  My level of guilt gets the best of me, and I get far outside my comfort zone, and struggle to just breathe.  As Chris noted in his sermon:

“We’re going to need to pay attention for the presence of God in unexpected places.  Those on the periphery.  The outcast and the refugee.  The addicted and the down-and-out.  The fearful and the mourning.  The people we most want to ignore.  If the kingdom of God is to be found anywhere among us, this is where to look … in the forgotten and difficult and challenging places.”

As I have shared before, I strongly believe I was in the presence of God once through the eyes of a lonely, old man that I couldn’t give the time of day.  The pain that I experienced from this encounter has never subsided, I recognize I have a lot of work to do.  I’m not good with those who are on the periphery.  I need to pay attention to the presence of God where I least expect it.  I need to see and experience it on the streets of Providence, the streets of Houston, any city I frequent, no matter how difficult that is for me.  That is my reality.  I need to change.  As Dave Carr says so eloquently, “we need to walk our faith”.

Adult education was another amazing experience.  This week we discussed death, and so many people had such beautiful stories to tell about people close to them dying.  I was awestruck as I sat there listening to so many personal and beautiful stories about people losing close relatives and the experience they went through.  There was a constant theme woven throughout of basic principles in life of “love is all that matters”, “living life to the fullest”, “doing everything to love God and to love our neighbor until your last breath”, and finally, and I loved this one, “death ends a life, not a relationship”.  Since our theme is Celtic spirituality, we focused on the mystery of death and the fact that we need to trust in God in both joy and sorrow.

We also discussed the struggles we have with death, particularly untimely death.  It is much easier to celebrate the life of a person who has lived a full life than it is to celebrate the life of someone who has died tragically, or has died very young.  In these cases, we tend to mourn more than we celebrate.  It brought me back to so many years ago, when my brother Bill committed suicide.  It’s not easy to celebrate a life when the life was ended in such a way.  I still remember at the time, Laurel’s sister Kathy was dying from cancer, and my Mom said the day after Billy’s funeral, “It’s so sad, she wants to live so badly, and can’t, and he had a life, but didn’t want to live it.”  This life experience has given me a passion to never have to experience suicide within the family again. 

The Maundy Thursday service was a very different one for me, but it was such a special night.  Our church had separate services in people’s homes, and we had the opportunity to worship with several Shallowford families at Davis and Kay Stewart’s house.  We congregated, we shared, we got to know many people we hadn’t had the opportunity to meet before, and we ate (a lot!).  Then we celebrated the Last Supper in an intimate setting, as we prepare for the crucifixion that lies ahead.

Finally, Holy Week isn't complete without Good Friday.  We went to the chapel at Shallowford at noon, and experienced the emotionally-draining story of Jesus' betrayal and death.  It is such a moving passage in the Bible, and it is so painful, but necessary, to read and immerse yourself in.  

As I reflect on this week, I have to also share some of the reading from “A Clearing Season” and what hit home for me.  The first one is easy, the reading proposes that “we endure Lent’s process of subtraction because it opens us wider; the process of subtraction brings us closer to God, where true life is to be found” and “…trusting beyond reason, beyond our senses, that God is working powerfully in and through us”.  As best I can, I’m trying to endure the Lenten process, or more appropriately, embrace the Lenten process.

But what really hit me from the reading was the central theme of what is wrong with me and what needs to change.  Thy will be done.  As I’ve shared before, when Patrick hit his low point, and we were right there with him, I’d go for my runs in the morning, and I’d pray and cry and plead with God, “please help him, please take his pain away, please save him.”  I was never, ever able to bring myself to the ultimate prayer, the most important prayer, “thy will be done”.  As the reading this week so beautifully notes, “Thy will be done.  In relation to our ordinary, workaday lives, these may be the most revolutionary words we will ever say…  The prospect of relinquishing our lives to God’s will can be terrifying, as it may have been at first for Jesus on that night of prayer in the garden.  But this fear comprises part of a holy moment; it is endured and transcended so that God’s will may be done.”

As if I needed further reminder, but then again, I’m sure God knows my head is stuffed with fluff, and I am stubborn, I received the notice of the Maundy Thursday service at United Theological Seminary.  President Kent Millard would be preaching on “Thy Will Be Done”.  But, of course.

As we discussed in Adult Education, as humans, we want to believe we are in control, and I suffer more than most with this.  Death is the ultimate sign, we aren’t in control.  While I may believe that the reason I’m able to fight through and overcome my times of depression is all about me, I’m pretty certain, it’s all about Him.  And I need to let go and understand, Patrick’s fight through this is also all about Him.  Providence.  As I’ve said it before, maybe this is where Patrick comes to find God again.  In the ghetto, in the slums, with those who are on the periphery, with the people we want to ignore.

Just a few more things and then I'm done.

Clinging Cross - I guess the excitement of Holy Week moved me, I gave out three Clinging Crosses this week.

Jeanne Thrift -  As I've said before, Jeanne is one of my dearest friends at WIKA.  She is an incredible person, and yes, she is very much a beautiful child of God.  Jeanne has been enduring a great deal for many years, but more so lately, with her daughter Holly's battle with Cystic Fibrosis.  I can't imagine enduring this battle from Holly's perspective, but also from the caregiver's perspective.  My heart breaks for them.

BJ Grooms - BJ works at WIKA, and recently returned from hip surgery.  BJ has an unbelievable smile, and an infectious laugh.  I so look forward to seeing him anytime I'm in town, he brightens my day.  He also knows sports better than most people, so I love to hear his thoughts and predictions on bowl games, the NCAA tournament, just about any sporting event.  BJ is simply full of life, and when he talks about sports, he just exudes life and excitement.

Jeff Poynter - Jeff is the Business Administrator at our former church, First United Methodist Church of Lawrenceville and also a dear friend.  Jeff and I became close when I served as the Chair of the Finance Committee at church.  I will always remember and continue to quote Jeff on what he said when his Mom died years ago.  He referred to it as "graduation day".  And really, that's what it is, isn't it?  We are constantly on a learning path, and we are never completely there, until we reach graduation day.  I miss worshiping with Jeff, but I will always appreciate his friendship and his leadership.

As I noted at the beginning, I love Palm Sunday.  A tradition of course is the great anthem, "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross".  Our choir did a beautiful job with it, and of course, left me in tears.  As a final thought for Holy Week, here is the last stanza:

"Were the whole realm of nature mine,

That were a present far too small,

Love so amazing, so divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all."

A Clearing Season - Weathering Storms

  “The lesson, of course, is that our neighbor is not necessarily the one who looks like us.  Our neighbor may not belong to our community.  Our neighbor may be the person we have avoided or even despised, yet he or she may be the very one we will need for our survival.”

Atlanta to Providence, Rhode Island to Atlanta to Houston

How appropriate!  I mean the title of this week’s reading “Weathering Storms”.  We flew up to Providence to see Patrick this weekend.  The weekend started off great, we saw Jim Dyer, a close friend from Dayton at the Atlanta airport.  Jim was on his way to see his new grandson, and we got to spend some time together and catch up on each other’s lives.

We arrived in Providence to 37 degrees, torrential rain, and heavy winds.  We were definitely weathering storms.  It was awful weather for most of the weekend we were there.  But it isn’t just the weather, or wasn’t the weather, that created the storms for me.  I have to confess, this is very far outside my element.  As Laurel notes, she grew up in the city of Pittsburgh, so Providence doesn’t hold the same issues for her.  I grew up in the country, and have lived my life in the suburbs.  Plus, I’m the one who does all of the driving, and the Providence roads are painful enough, but with torrential rains, it creates a new level of difficulties.

I have a special trepidation for Patrick’s apartment and neighborhood.  Patrick lives in the ghetto, slums, low rent district, whatever definition you would give to an area such as this.  The building is run down, it smells, the carpet is soiled horribly, the walls are peeling, the railings are loose (do you get the picture yet?).  You constantly hear sirens as police or ambulances go to the next crisis. 

When we pulled up, I looked up to the porch, and Patrick was waiting there.  We got out of the car, and there was an African-American man yelling at someone in a car, something about a cell phone, and he had a pit bull with him, off its leash.  I quickly eyed Patrick and then eyed Laurel, and worried, is this pit bull going to attack one of them?  The man put the pit bull on its leash, and said, “Don’t worry about her, she’s friendly, she won’t hurt you.”  Patrick joked with him about what a good looking dog it was, and he said, “Want to buy her?”  This is how the weekend started.

We went to dinner that night at a pizza place a few blocks down, and as we walked there, in the rain, we passed a bickering African-American couple, not sure if they were homeless, they didn’t seem completely coherent or sane, but we quickly passed them by.  We went to the pizza place, and had an excellent meal.  That is the one thing I thought about as I sat there at dinner.  The people in the restaurant were incredibly friendly, and I guess that is my main point of all of this.  Not once, have I had a bad experience in Providence, or in Patrick’s neighborhood.  OK, the driving sucks, I’ve had some people with road rage issues toward me, but the people you meet are incredibly friendly, they are just nice, normal people, even if they don’t look like me, talk like me or act like me.  I just don’t feel comfortable there, and that is all on me, no one else.  I struggle in a climate of poverty, I feel guilty, I feel like an outsider, my heart aches the whole time I'm there.  As this week’s reading described, sometimes we take a step back in our spiritual journey, which is OK.  I definitely took a step back this weekend, I realized that I am not viewing everyone as my neighbor, and I need to work on that. 

Tuesday night was the awards ceremony at Georgia Gwinnett College where I received the School of Business Part time Teaching Award.  It was a wonderful ceremony where many students were recognized for their academic accomplishments.  As various students were recognized, some of whom were my former students, and you heard their stories, you heard stories of first generation college students, students who came from various countries, suffered many difficulties, but they were committed to succeeding.  As I scanned the great menagerie of races, ethnicity, and most likely, religions, I realized why I do what I do, or did what I did.  Laurel and I have talked, we were also first generation college students years ago, although we did have siblings who paved the path for us. 

While it would be a stretch to say these students were the ones I needed for my survival, I can say these students gave me life when I needed it.  Their energy, their commitment, their desire to learn, breathed life into me.  It’s hard to explain the satisfaction you can get from teaching, but I tried to do it in the biography that I wrote for my award:

“Seven years ago, Steve reached out to Dr. Tyler Yu about a part-time teaching position.   Since then he has taught various accounting classes each semester, and will be finally “retiring” from teaching this year.  While Steve has always had an appreciation for the work that teachers do, he learned that it takes a great deal of hard work, dedication, patience and creativity to be a teacher at the college level. 

Steve tries to bring his work experience with him to the classroom, to not only teach his students about accounting, but to also teach them about business through the use of real work examples.   Steve’s goal was to give back to students, and help them just like so many teachers have helped him through his education process, many years ago.  What Steve found was that he learned a great deal more from his students than he taught them.  These seven years have been incredibly rewarding, and he has so much appreciation for his students, and also Dr. Yu, Kathleen Pinson, Dr. Jim Weisel, and Dr. Janita Rawls for all of their help and support.”

This was such a bittersweet night for me.  With my job, with my travel schedule, I just can’t do it anymore.  To be honest, it’s also not fair to Laurel, as I often say, I’m off chasing and fighting windmills like Don Quixote, while she has to deal with the reality of our lives.  I just can’t do it anymore, but it hurts so bad to leave it.  I can’t believe what I received over the last seven years, it was so much more than I gave, and I’m so thankful for that.

Just a few more things and then I'm done.

Clinging Cross - To celebrate my seven years of teaching, I gave a Clinging Cross to Kathleen Pinson.  More than anyone, she has been the one to guide me, nurture me and train me to be a teacher. I never imagined when I first started seven years ago, how hard it is.  She was always there with advice and counseling.  Anytime I stopped by her office, no matter what she had going on, she would greet me with that smile and "Hello my friend!  Come on in!"  I could learn something from that.

Thank You? - At the beginning of the church service this week, our Senior Pastor, Chris Henry, thanked us all for being there.  It was spring break in the area, so various people were traveling, but Chris thanked those who were up all night with babies (like him), those who were older or tired, those who had ailments or illnesses, all of us, he thanked us for being there.  I sat there thinking about our choice, we took a 6 am flight out of Providence, so we could be at church.  I never thought twice about it (OK, I did think once about it), because it is Lent, and I wanted to be at church to hear the sermon, to experience the service, to be at Adult Education.  Our wanting to be at church had nothing to do with us, but it had everything to do with what we were getting from church.

Perfect Timing – Having said that about wanting to be at church, we had incredible timing on when we arrived.  Due to a flight delay, we got to Adult Education a bit late.  We arrived as this wonderful woman, Bette, was telling a story about playing her harp for people who are suffering from Alzheimer’s Disease.  I was mesmerized by the story.  She described how patients, who hadn’t shown any ability to recognize anything around them, would hear the music, would hear her playing hymns on the harp, and they would start humming, or whistling, along.  It was an amazing story to hear, and I was so thankful to get there just in time to hear it.

Later, Prue Swerlick, who is doing a wonderful job leading our class along with Kay Stewart, closed our class with “Be Thou My Vision”, as our closing prayer.  This has always been my favorite hymn, and I get teary-eyed every time I hear it.  Afterward, Jay Scott came up and talked about the Van Morrison version of “Be Thou My Vision” and playing it for his father’s funeral.  It took me back to many years ago, when I was lost and didn’t know if I’d ever find my way back.  I had left Laurel, I had left Megan and Kelly, and I was drifting, I was living at friend’s houses, sleeping in spare bedrooms, sleeping on the floor.  I had lost my way completely, and the one thing that kept me sane was listening to Van Morrison’s “Hymns to the Silence”.  I’d listen to it every night, and I’d listen to “Be Thou My Vison” every night.  Eventually, I came to my senses, I found my way back, and thankfully, Laurel didn’t give up on me.  It still amazes me how those little things, hearing those stories, sharing those stories in Adult Education, can tie it all together.

And so I look at this past week, and I realize, I did weather some storms.  I realize from my trip to Providence, I’m not who I want to be yet.  But I also realize, I’m not who I was either.  I can be so much more, but I am so much more than I was.  I’m still a work in progress, I have a long way to go, but God’s not finished with me yet.  And to close, stanza 3 from “Be Thou My Vision”:

“Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise

Thou mine inheritance, now and always

Thou and Thou only, first in my heart

High King of Heaven, my Treasures Thou art”