Miracles

“I don’t understand this.  I’ve never seen this before.  Call the O.R. and cancel surgery immediately.”  These are the words texted by my brother from his hospital bed, quoting his doctor just before a scheduled second surgery to repair a failed skin graft to his tongue after the initial cancer surgery only four days prior!  My brother is incredulous.  He goes on in his trademark style, “There is the simple miracle.  The rest is history…. There is no room for argument or debate in the Kingdom of God…. I am a mere mortal but an expert only in my own story…. Please join me in another miracle celebration.”

I cannot believe what I am reading.  The news spreads like wildfire.  Suddenly our colorful truth-stretching interesting beloved alcoholic brother is holding forth like a preacher.  And if there are any doubting Thomases (He must have read his Bible somewhere), he says he’ll stick out his tongue at them. 🌝  No more dead meat in his mouth; he’s already envisioning next ‘storytime’ at local coffee shop!

I too am incredulous – and so is another of my brothers.  We of the greater theological education on said subject put our heads together in thoughtful telephone conversation.  Even as we are both excited and obviously relieved, we agree to wait and see.  Wait and see yields confirmation!  Yes indeed, next morning Philip's wife confirms she too is convinced.  Apparently this is beyond explanation in the medical units in the hospital.  Dead matter appears to be throbbing with life, swelling and throbbing to recovery as a successful surgery must. 

Now the reflective confession.  I believe.  Even so, please consider the perspective of this elder brother!  "Deep calls to deep", says Psalm 42:6 in my Bible.  Based on this and many other experiences, my faith includes more than this.  I see ample invitation to believe because of or perhaps in spite of this evidence.  While this was transpiring in a Saskatoon hospital, here was I at home in Calgary, reading a recently published book Making the Crooked Places Straight by Carol Harrison and Ruth Keighley (Carol’s Corner Publishing, 2020).  Unlike my brother’s declarative testimony this book is full, absolutely full, of claims to God’s miraculous involvement in people’s lives, anecdotally recorded page after page.  The incidents and the sermon move along side by side, nary a paragraph that does not mention God the one who makes crooked places straight.  It is a compilation of heartwarming stories of individuals and their encounter with a miracle-working God.  Philip’s testimony is a one-time incident which defies explanation – mere mortal expert in his story!

Indeed.  The temptation is now to run on into a bit of an evaluation of two very different approaches to and experiences of God the Higher Power (AA lingo) or God the Miracle Worker (born again lingo).  At this point in my life I am not inclined to go the exclusivist way.  I am enthused and I am humbled by both of these accounts happening right before my eyes.  Rather than disclaiming or validating one or the other I receive these as a confirmation of my growing understanding and experience of both God the HP and the MW.  As I have written in my profile (check it out ), I am inspired especially of late, to reserve judgement on exactly who holds the patent on the most accurate description of God and God’s doings. 

I remember a lesson from many years ago in a college Old Testament class.  Dr. Waldemar Janzen was holding forth on the names of God.  Moses was anxious about how the people would receive him if he came to them with a word from God.  Then God says to Moses, “I am who I am. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I am has sent me to you.’” (Exodus 3:14).  In the O.T. are many names for God, El Shaddai, Elohim, Immanuel, to name a few, and all best summarized in the consonants YHWH.  However, as per instruct to Moses, do not become too concerned about the articulation of My name.  More important is the need for you to know Me.

My brother with the healed tongue would probably quit reading right about now. This is too much of that complicated churchy sounding stuff.  He prefers his own explanations to things.  On the other hand, my very evangelical miracle oriented author friends also prefer their renditions on said topic.  Me?  I am easy with both perspectives.  More important to me is the One who has come among us (John 1:14).  Yes, Jesus the word among us, the One who walked the talk, and if needed among his teachings, regularly performed  miracles.  Even after the crooked places are all straightened and after the tongues all healed and the mutes speak, there is still need for a reason to live, and for many people, especially in these days of Covid-19, that could use some healing too!  “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” So says Jesus in John 14:6.

In fact, just knowing that One is enough to get me speaking in tongues, but that’s topic for another time. 

Another Chance

It's a Calgary springtime.  I've been looking at snowflakes out my living room window last couple of days.  I remember my trucking years (Funny how this retired preacher has only road dreams during this stay-at-home Covid-19 time!).  The following was written a number of years ago.  I've left the date intact for my readers of the scholarly persuasion!  Something quite applicable here for my life, for anybody's life.  I still get a lump in my throat five years down the pike.  😔

 December 18, 2015

GRATITUDE

He jumps out of his truck

Big strong arms encircle my back.

He presses with gratitude, the hug full of emotion.

With a tear in his weary face, he jumps back into driver’s seat.

“Thank you so very much.  I’m so outa here,”

and his truck beats a hasty exit out the yard.

In slow motion I get the picture.

His truck got frozen into place in the cold overnight temperature,

even as mine had in my corner of this yard.

Only he did more fighting with circumstance, more spinning of wheels

thus digging a hole which held him even when brakes finally released.

Other truckers had refused to pull him – why?

Maybe because he was black; maybe because he was agitated;

maybe because he had no tow hooks, and as I told him

“If I pull you there is a possibility of me damaging your truck."

He was in trouble, and desperate.

I could not resist his plea for a pull, please.

With my truck carefully in place, tow hooks installed, and tow rope carefully attached,

A few smart tugs, and he is free of the holes, truck sitting high and ready.

An air of celebration erupts as bystanders appreciate my risk

and a bumper that did not tear apart!

He was free of his trouble – at least for now.

I sympathize with his lack of experience.

I rejoice with his good fortune to have met a trucker like me!

And then a familiar scripture comes to mind,

So if you think you are standing, watch out that you do not fall. 1 Corinthians 10:12

Lest I become too exhilarated or self-righteous, another picture comes to mind.  Only the day before, way back up the mountain on the other side of the Snoqualmie Pass, on the other side of the snow and the ice, just after I had successfully mounted tire chains, I avoided stopping to help a distraught overweight inexperienced trucker who obviously was unable to get the job done.  He was going nowhere with his half-mounted chains.  I looked the other way.   I had to get going because I had already wasted too much time on mine!

Maybe God gave me an opportunity to make up for something I didn’t do yesterday. Thank you Lord.

Can't Marry a Hillbilly

“I just could not stick around any longer and risk one of my daughters marrying a hillbilly”.  This one sentence is inscribed into my brain and will be there for the rest of my life.  It was one of those vacation conversations – seemingly one must travel to a vacation getaway to actually sit down and visit with one’s hometown neighbors these days!

Our friend was telling us about a most significant career move they had made a number of years ago.  They took on a voluntary service term coordinating housing reconstruction among poor people of the Appalachians in Kentucky.  Enthused and a very enjoyable story, his face literally glowed as he told of that Mennonite Central Committee assignment.  It was full of description and empathy for miners whose lives were literally controlled by ‘big coal’.  I was especially intrigued having recently read John Grisham’s, Gray Mountain (Doubleday, 2014).  Among stories of black lung and deplorable housing and family conditions I noticed also some kind of a reservation - I can sense these things sometimes. After a bit I asked him about it.  He answered forthrightly.  Yes, the work had been very satisfying for him and his family, but eventually he determined they must ‘get out of there’. “Why?” I asked. “The risk was too great that one of our daughters might fall in love and marry a hillbilly”.  Yes, he said it exactly like that!  And although his wife was sitting at same table and had prepared the delicious meal, I am not certain whether or not she had participated in that decision!

I was touched by this friend’s resolve to provide the right atmosphere for the nurture and care of his family.  At the same time his protectiveness gave me pause. I would be interested to have a conversation with his daughters to hear how they experienced this ‘care’.  Did they experience this as overt control?  Or did they appreciate the care and concern of their loving dad?  And also, what influence did their mother have in these family impacting decisions?  One of my brothers and his wife are also fully involved in high risk ministry in a poor neighborhood in Colorado Springs, CO. For them it is a lifetime commitment, and before their decision to become thusly immersed they together gave this attention.  They decided they would not have children.  In my mind that was a good decision, especially given their penchant for radical advocacy and 'bannering' peace messages against the military in that militaristic city.

Almost this could become a philosophical treatise because it now begs the next question.  What is the role of a Christian in today’s society, or as Francis Schaeffer once wrote, How Should we then Live? (Revell, 1976). Of what priority is the safety and well being of our children?  Is it appropriate to put them at risk for the sake of the Gospel of Jesus Christ?  Is it a real risk or merely parental fearfulness?  I once participated in a seminary Study Group on almost this very topic,"Celibacy and the Priesthood." Catholics and Protestants have much to learn from each other on that.  Perhaps I shall write a little more about that some time. Stay tuned!

 

How should my wife and I have lived?  After twenty-some years in pastoral ministry and then twenty years trucking after my burnout, we still think about that as we are now well into retirement.  Although our children, all four of them adults by now, employed and relatively stable, we wonder about next chapter of our life and impact it will have on them.   Our eldest with his family in Ontario, youngest in Winnipeg, and two daughters here in Calgary, we think about short term ministry assignments, about our education (yup), and even a possible return to the work force (Our pension profile not as well padded as many of our friends).  We cannot ignore that our next years will seriously impact two of our daughters who have not yet gained their complete independence from us.  By moving out of town are we abdicating our responsibility as parents, or are we finally providing opportunity for them to fend for themselves?  We also do not believe it a good idea to move around following your kids.  The answer may seem obvious to the casual advice-giver or gossiper, but it is not obvious to us.   

We wonder have we adequately provided those learning opportunities that might have avoided the co dependence we are in now?  I may be slightly critical of my friend’s careful control of his children’s environment, but also envious of his helpfulness in guiding the formative years of his children (and as revealed in further conversation, now also providing employment and career opportunities).  His talk intrigues me, even along with some reservation.  We are two Christian families.  Indeed we live our lives quite differently.  

Our respective children do not know each other.  My impression is they may have little in common.  If they were to compare notes, who might claim to have received the better deal?   I think our kids would say they did.  Verna and I believe in our children and that they will make decisions that are right for them.  We have not attempted to guide life partner decisions (One is married, one in a committed relationship, and two single).  We have had many discussions about education and what's priority here and there, along with our encouragement to them to make decisions that seem right, along with our trust that God will guide them if they ask, AND our love is unconditional.  Sounds nice and loving, yes.  But quite task oriented also, especially from this workaholic!

 

It is not fair to evaluate these Christian friends or us according to these incomplete criteria.  Nonetheless this recent conversation gives pause. I have many good friends who probably think more like me than my good businessman volunteer friend.  

As many of you know, I have resolved to write stridently and occasionally controversially if need be in these retirement years.  Nothing strident here this time, just kind of thoughtful on said subject.  I must, however, posit an additional query or perhaps seed of an idea perhaps more academic than practical (my dad called me a nehsheah - kind of nosey kid!).  Family Systems is a theory of counseling which was considered in some of my practicum pastoral training.  As the world repopulates at this time, even our individualistic North American culture is meeting systems so much different.  Even doctors, lawyers, business managers, politicians - immigrants both educated or uneducated, may well be within arranged marriages.  Their children are growing up among the hormones and fads of our children.  So my closing query:  How different is our concern about who our children marry than those parents from other cultures who just go ahead and make that selection for them?