Post Number Twenty-Six

Embracing Peace In A New Reality

Tomorrow morning I will take Terry to her final chemotherapy session.  An ordeal that began ten months ago with an unwelcome diagnosis, progressed through six weeks of daily radiation treatments, proceeded on to unexpectedly massive surgery, and finished with four months of aggressive chemo therapy will finally come to an end.  Tomorrow we begin the rest of our lives together now completely entrenched in a new reality.  We do not know what lies ahead.  We are trusting in the efficacy of the surgery and the treatments.  We shall continue do so until we are confronted with evidence to the contrary.  We are first and foremost trusting in a God of life and hope so clearly made known to us in this Easter season and through the loving care extended to us by our church, family and friends during this difficult time.  The question on our minds as we enter this new reality is the same question that confronts every follower of Jesus the risen Lord. 

“Now what?”   

It takes my breath away that in the Gospel of John the first words from Jesus to the frightened and dispirited disciples is a word of peace. 

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear ..., Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." 

The violent and dangerous world remains after the resurrection.  It is the hearts of the disciples that have changed.  As Terry and I adjust to a new and unwelcome reality in which a new vigilance against disease will now be routine, it is that word of peace that releases us from bondage to live as hope filled and faithful people. This is a peace that refuses to allow bad news to take control.  This is a peace that empowers us to face whatever may lie ahead.  This is a peace that cannot be explained but must be experienced.  This is Easter manifest in our hearts.

I would never choose to live through what we have experienced in the past ten months.  I wish it were in my power to save everyone from a similar experience, but here is the gift.  Easter has never been so alive to me as it is this year.  Our life has changed.  Now what shall we do with it?  I pray that whatever it is it will be filled with love and hope and joy and stand over against a world of fear, hate and violence.  It all begins with a word of peace from a master who came to love us toward God.

Dave Gladstone

Post Number Twenty-Five

YOU GOTTA LAUGH

I write on Holy Saturday.  This is the day when the promise of the Easter resurrection emerges from the gloom of suffering and passion. It is a fitting metaphor for our spirit as Terry stands one week away from her final chemotherapy treatment.  The day has not yet arrived, but we are confident of its coming. It is the Christian life in a nutshell.

A capacity to laugh has returned to our lives.  This is the surest sign that the the grip of Terry's disease is beginning to relax its hold upon us.  This was evident yesterday as Terry and I were running errands and enjoying a time of mutual attention to mundane matters.  As we traveled between stores I asked if she had heard any of the April fool jokes that National Public Radio is so skilled at creating.  She mentioned that she had heard one in the morning that she enjoyed.  I told her of the one I heard in the afternoon as I returned from taking her mother to the doctor.  "I missed that one.  What was it about?" she asked.

I explained that NPR did a phony promo for a twenty CD boxed set of its best funding announcements over the course of the last forty years.  They claimed that they had been honored with the coveted Fundy Award for the compilation and they included several examples of funding announcements for the imaginary set.  One of the announcements was, "This NPR program is supported in part by a grant from Madoff Securities.  Let us watch over your investments so that you don't have to."

Terry sat silent in the seat beside me.  I thought she did not fully appreciate the creativity of the joke.  Then she spoke.  "That was a joke?  I thought it was real.  I couldn't understand why anyone would want to listen to funding announcements."  

I was stunned.  She tried to claim that her mental capacity was diminished by the chemotherapy.  She pleaded with me not to tell others that she was totally taken in by the ruse.  But here I am telling the story for all to read.  We laughed like we have not laughed in a long time.  Her illness shrank significantly in that moment. That laughter was an Easter moment. Tomorrow we shall remember the empty tomb and announce the risen Christ.  The door of our tomb of illness has also been thrown open. Alleluia.

Dave Gladstone

NPR April Fool Joke 2010

Post Number Twenty-Four

Lloyd C. Douglas

The Gift

Upon entering my office this morning I noticed a red book that had been placed on my desk.  Taped to the book was a note from a man I had met for the first time last Sunday following the conclusion of our second worship service.  In that meeting, the man had told me of his appreciation for the message of the morning and he asked if I had ever read any of the works of Lloyd C. Douglas.  I confessed that I had never read any of his work.  My encounter with Lloyd C. Douglas was limited to a vivid technicolor movie memory of going with my parents to see The Robe back when I was a child of about seven.  He suggested that my message was in keeping with the writings of Douglas who was first and foremost a minister, preacher and theologian of the first half of the twentieth century.

The book on my desk was The Living Faith by Lloyd C. Douglas.  The note directed me to pages 57 and 90 suggesting that I would find there Douglas' thoughts on the subject of atonement which had been my subject for the Sunday message. The note suggested that I would find there a kindred theological spirit.  I did.  But, that is not the portion of the note that caused me to sit and weep.  The last sentence of the note said, "I find you to be a courageous and thoughtful man."

As I left the house this morning I felt neither courageous nor thoughtful.  With everything going on in our lives I had all I could do to just get out the door and get to the church.  Thoughtfulness has been replaced by reactivity as I have struggled to stay ahead of each new crisis.  I was stunned that anyone could encounter me in this moment and find any courage or thoughtfullness.  Then it occured to me that even in this moment of spiritual and emotional stress God had apparently used me to speak to another person's heart.  To have that reality placed before me helped me step aside from the troubles of the moment and appreciate that God has use for me even in my woundedness.

Dave Gladstone

Surveying the Wondrous Cross

Surveying the Wondrous Cross

Over the years of my ministry I have frequently been asked to articulate what I believe regarding Jesus and what was accomplished for humanity by his crucifixion and suffering. Whenever I am asked I have come to rely upon the famous hymn by Isaac Watts, When I Survey the Wondrous Cross.  I know of no other hymn that so clearly expresses what I have come to believe regarding these matters.

We love to argue over these things.  We act as though there is only one way to understand this mystery.  We give it a fancy name, Atonement, and we judge the authenticity of other's faith by whether they agree with us or not.  I try to avoid such silliness.

In this time of our personal trial as Terry toughs it out through chemo treatments, I find great comfort in these words.  The mingling of love and sorrow, the giving up of all vain things, the amazing love that demands my total devotion in response - these are the mysteries I see when I survey the wondrous cross.

When I survey the wondrous cross

On which the Prince of glory died,

My richest gain I count but loss,

And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,

Save in the death of Christ my God!

All the vain things that charm me most,

I sacrifice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,

Sorrow and love flow mingled down!

Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,

Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

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.

Post Number Twenty Two

Snowbound

This is the year of the great eastern seaboard blizzard.  Baltimore, Maryland has received a record snowfall in two powerful storms that came just a week apart.  Mary and Andrew have been snowbound in Baltimore through it all.  Their church has canceled services for the second Sunday in a row.  They had just finished moving into a house and buying groceries when the first storm hit.  They have been snowbound ever since.  Last night I sent Mary a text message asking, "How are the snow bunnies doing?" She sent me back five text messages of one letter each - "B - O - R - E - D."  Being a novice at the whole text message thing I laughed and marveled at how powerful and clear was her meaning.

We have been feeling snowbound in a different way.  Terry is not yet half way through her chemotherapy.  The burden of worry, and the accompanying physical and emotional difficulties have hit us hard.  On top of that, caring for Terry's aging parents gets ever more difficult.  Every time the phone rings my stomach knots and I expect yet another care assignment - a run to the pharmacy, an unexpected doctor visit.  The mid February weather mirrors my mood - dark, gray and foreboding. We are in the midst of it and the coming of a new spring seems a long way off. 

The words of Psalm 130 come to my mind:  Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord.  Lord, hear my voice!  I appreciate the exclamation point.  Put another way, "We're in trouble here, Lord.  pay attention."  If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, Lord who could stand?  Now is no time to remind us of our faults and failures. But there is forgiveness with you, so that you may be revered.  We're counting on it.  It is the foundation of our devotion.  I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope.  My soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning. Waiting is the part I have the most trouble with. Give me the spirit of the ancient watchmen.  I do find hope in your word, but hope is hard to hang on to when the morning seems so far away. O Israel, hope in the Lord!  For with the Lord there is steadfast love, and with him is great power to redeem.  It is the steadfastness of your love than speaks the most to my heart.  Make your love known so that we can make it through this particular night.

Dave Gladstone