The Road Let's Travel

Blessed be Your name, on the road marked with suffering.
Though there’s pain in the offering, blessed be Your name.
“Blessed BeYour Name”
lyrics by Matt and Beth Redman

“God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience but shouts in our pains; it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”
C.S. Lewis

“I doubt whether God can bless a man greatly until he has hurt him deeply.”
A.W. Tozer

While this Monday may dawn in its typical way, interloping on those who find it hard to get motivated for another long week, it will carry some special significance for me. It was on a second of October in 1981 that my life was forever changed. One moment I was walking, running and standing. In a fateful next moment, I no longer laid claim to these simple luxuries. Before October 2nd, I could stand in front of a urinal just like any other guy. Showering? No problem. Just run into a shower stall, do the job, get out. I could pull my pants legs on and be none the wiser. Twenty minutes. From the time my feet hit the floor, through the morning routine and out the door, twenty measly minutes.That all changed on the evening of October 2, 1981.

Twenty-five years ago, this Monday, the strongest bone in my body snapped like a twig and a crazy little string that runs inside it, called a spinal cord, was mangled, smashed, bruised and nearly severed. Turns out, you really need an intact cord in order to stand, walk, run, shower upright, dress upright and, uh, how to say, expel upright (sorry…oversharing?). How did I break my back, you ask? Gravity. More specifically, gravity and a rock at the end of it. You see, I was out in the mountainous woodlands of Tennessee with some college friends and during our outing together, I took a spill off a cliff, fell twenty feet, and landed squarely on my back on top of a triangle-shaped rock. C-c-rack-k!

Paralysis is what Dr. Herndon Murray called it. From the middle of my chest to the very tip of my toes there is no feeling. None. A complete injury, he said.

Will I ever walk again, Dr. Murray?

No, he said.

That was twenty-five years ago this Monday. (What do you buy for that anniversary???)

Now life is shower chairs, hoyer lifts, special beds, catheters, wound dressings, BPs (don’t ask), hand controls, checking for cloudy urine, checking skin for redness, getting dressed flat on a bed (try that sometime!), and, oh yes, wheelchairs. And van lifts and callused hands. Leg bags. Sitting higher at a table than anyone else. Getting stared at by foreigners in whose culture those with disabilities are shut away in institutions. Not sitting with friends at stadiums because you have to sit in a special area while they sit with the “normal” people. Wanting to be independent and push yourself yet struggling up hills knowing you cannot be.

“In all these things…” That’s what Paul said. He had a different list, yes, but my list and your list work just as well. Just as true. “In all these things, we overwhelmingly conquer…” (Romans 8:37) You have to know what was in my spirit as I was jotting down those “inconveniences” of disability. I was not even close to despair nor was I whining and martyring. No! A thousand-million times no! There is rejoicing in me and it’s been in me for the past quarter-century. I’m often asked, Scott, are you bitter? and I can answer with untainted integrity that I have never been bitter over it. Frustrated? Bothered? Mad, at times? Put off? Isolated and self-conscious? Humiliated? Yes, most assuredly. I confess I’ve been bothered by it from time to time but never bitter.

Why? How can this be? First off, let me tell you it’s not because of anything in me. Well, that’s not entirely true. Christ is in me. It is HIS Life and victory that upholds me. Through the suffering, through the rugged miles, through the pain and loss, it’s Him, always Him. This is gonna sound strange but if given the choice to relive my life, I would still choose His way over mine even if my way offered a delectable smorgasbord of riches, fame and ease minus Him, and His way was, well, what I’ve gone through these twenty-five years.

I’m not saying I’d enjoy reliving the summer of ‘97 when a skin sore nearly took my life and the wound was so deep one’s fist could disappear down into its nefarious cave. I could do without New Jersey in 1990. And Fall of 2003. And early winter of ‘05. I’m not saying that I would prefer to have a humiliating “accident” and wet my pants in front of my friends or fall on a floor of our vacation villa and have to wait for a couple hours until someone can hear me calling and come to my rescue (long story). I can live without the memory of what happened after my wedding on the way to our honeymoon. Right out of the gate, Sandy was becoming “one with me” whether she was ready for it or not. Ah, Sandy…could I write volumes in honor of his woman? Through every wound, accident, gaining weight and strangers’ stare she never, ever made me feel small, in the way, embarrassing or troublesome. Saint Sandy…

No, these things can be so upsetting and humiliating. Who wants to cry themselves to sleep? Yet, in all these things, God is there, looming larger and more defined than even in the sweet by-and-by times. He comes as Warrior, Friend, Succorer, Comforter, Healer…think of it! When would you ever know Him as Healer unless you were broken? When would you ever know His infinite power unless the enemy was picking on you? When could His comfort lay you down to rest unless you were crying yourself to sleep?

I choose His way. The road marked with suffering is the road less traveled because of its thorns and thistles, gloomy places and dangers. But I still choose His way because it is where He bids me and meets me. It is where I learn to lean harder into Him and trust Him with my life. It’s where He brings heaven’s nectar out of stony places and sweet bread from the sky. Funny thing, my sandals never wear out on this road. I joke with people that I never have to buy shoes because I don’t walk on them. I still wear shoes from years ago. They may get scratched on top but they never wear out on the soles. They may fall victim to the fashion police, but they are still road-tested and road-worthy.

When Monday dawns, some will yawn, hit the snooze button and groan to face another week. I’ll get lifted into my shower chair, strap on my leg bag, dress while supine, get hoyered into my wheelchair, struggle up more hills and get more callouses. Just like any other Monday. But I’ll do it gladly because my Friend will be there smiling and telling me “Chop-chop, Scott. We got a few more weary miles to go, but soon we’ll be home. Wait’ll you see what I’ve got up My sleeve for you then! C’mon, some pretty cool adventures lay ahead…”

And then I’ll smile back at Him and say, “Right behind You, Lord, right behind You…”

World Getting Rocked? Send For 'The Sopranos'

It happened again today. Yet another pastor I had run into wanted to know about the church, how it’s faring, who’s left. You’ve lost a lot of people, haven’t you? he quipped. There was no compassion in his words, just a man who needed to feel better about his own ministry, I suppose. What could I say? Yep, the ranks are skinnying up some more. But God is good, doncha think? How’s your church? Growing? Fantastic, and God bless you more (grumble, grumble)!

Each week Sandy and I find ourselves at a venue where some of those who have left our fellowship also attend. We smile and greet, but the pain of separation is there. Most of them are quite warm and gracious. That’s not the problem. The issue is the insidious voices inside our minds that tell us to keep our heads down. Don’t look anyone in the eye, they say. If you must speak, make it short, sweet and move on. You are a failure. You have let these people down. It’s your fault. They hate you. I confess, if I let myself go there, I can begin to believe these sulfur and brimstone rumors. My throat gets raw and scratchy from vomiting back up the poison the devil wants me to swallow.

When the voices started in on me the other evening, I just tuned into another frequency and listened for the opera of Heaven. I listened for the sopranos.

What do you do when a person for whom you prayed over to receive healing of cancer, saw the miracle happen, then months later that person tells you on their way out that your church will close its doors in a year? How, pray tell, can you keep your heading when a companion with whom you’ve shared bread and life walks away from the dream you’ve built together, thus ending a valued friendship?

You call in the sopranos. No, not those Sopranos.

When the sons of Asaph watched the noose of hate and turmoil tighten around the neck of their nation’s existence, they wrote a song. The inscription over Psalm 46 reads, “set to Alamoth.” The word in Hebrew is plural for ‘virgin’ or ‘maiden’ and it is generally thought the chorus was written for the high voices in the choir. Not the earthy, grainy croonings of Joe Cocker or the screechy nails-on-chalkboard stylings of Steven Tyler. Pure voices. Melodic voices. There’s nothing like the grace of blending sopranos to “make it all go away”. Picture a child, fearful and crying over the boogeyman he thinks hides in his closet, and his mother who soothingly lullabies him into slumber. Now picture that multiplied by a crystalline choir of heavenly Sarah Brightmans. Oh, yeah, you just got duck bumps, didn’t you?

When life deals a hard hand, learn to listen for the sopranos. And if you listen really hard, you will be able to download their lyrics. And, man, they’re good!

1. LEARN TO SAY “IT’S GOD”!

And what is the message of Psalm 46? Let’s consider two things. First, notice God’s Name is used in four different ways in these few verses. The psalm starts out with ‘Elohim’, a plural proper noun illustrating His power and authority. Also is ‘Yaweh’, or Jehovah, which is God’s covenant name. It comes from a root ‘haya’ which means ‘to make or cause to happen’. The prefix ‘ya’ (Lord) brings out the harmonic beauty of “The God Who Makes Things Happen.” (thanks, Lloyd John Ogilvie!)

Two other names float from the refrains. ‘Sabaoth’ is a military term meaning He is the commander-in-chief of all the angel armies. He is the Warrior’s Warrior. He fights for us. And wins EVERY battle. Then there is ‘Elyon’ which denotes His absolute supremacy. Elohim. Elyon. Sabaoth. Yaweh. Four names for God in a scant eleven verses. See it? I think the lyricists mean for us to know that whatever happens in life, good or bad, we say, “It’s God.” That doesn’t mean He knocks down tall buildings with jets or molests children or fired you from your job. I’m not saying He caused it, but He’s most certainly in it.

There is certainly something He is working out in me (the operative word being “out”) whenever I suffer humiliation or criticism or brokenness or despair. These things drive me to God. What safer place is there for a troubled soul?

2. LEARN TO LOOK FOR A RIVER

In the three movements found in this Psalm (each punctuated with “Selah” which could mean either a pause or modulation), the glorious voices crescendo in verse four to discover an amazing truth for those who are getting hammered (ummm, no, not drunkenly hammered). A literal rendering could be “Lo! A river!” When we find Him in our trials, we always know there is a River nearby. He is the River of Life. To me, the River speaks of Resurrection. Every time He works something “out” in me, He also does a corresponding work of bringing new life, new glory from the deaths I die (2 Corinthians 3:18; 4:16).

Hallelujah! No wonder there is gladness in the “City of God.” We are the City of God, by the way—the habitation of the Holy One (Revelation 21:9,10). And in the midst of her is a River that washes, nourishes and revives. Take heart, oh beaten down one. God is showing you a river if you will only open your eyes. Remember Hagar? Crying in the desert, watching her child die, waiting for her own demise, and the Lord shows up and creates a well for her to drink from out of the dusty earth. Lo! A river, indeed.

There’s more but let me just wrap it up with a quick baseball anecdote. Alex Rodriguez plays third base for the hated Yankees (’scuse my gratuitous editorializing). His career has been festooned with MVP seasons and All-Star performances, but this year his otherwise illustrious career has hit some bumps on the road to the Hall. The Yankee fans have been on him about his hitting, fielding and throwing. He’s heard it all. “Dat Bum,” he’s been called along with an assortment of other colorful not-to-be-mentioned-here colloquialisms.

Imagine going to the office and having 60,000 people watching your every move and booing you when you make a mistake. If I could encourage A-Rod (which I won’t because, remember, he is still a Yankee), I would tell him to forget the Bronx-ish diatribes lobbed his way but picture a choir of sopranos offering the very best of their golden-tongued arias.

Heaven isn’t booing you, either, saint of God. Just listen. It’s music to your ears.

The Old Man And The Plea

“And Caleb stilled the people before Moses and said, ‘Let us go up at once and possess it; for we are well able to overcome it.’”
(Caleb, Numbers 13:30, KJV)

Persistence: noun, Holding firmly and steadfastly to a purpose, state, or undertaking despite obstacles, warnings, or setbacks.

• Colonel Sanders was told “no” 1,009 times before finally selling his chicken to a restaurant. He always knew his 11 secret herbs and spices would one day catch on even as he slept in his car shlepping his dream

• Lucille Ball was told by an acting coach in 1927 to find another profession, “any profession”. She went on to make 80 movies and 500 television shows in a career that spanned 50 years

• an MGM exec said of Fred Astaire: “Can’t act. Balding. Can dance a little.”

• At 22, Abe Lincoln failed in business; at 23, he was defeated in a race for state legislature; at 24 he again failed at business; his sweetheart died when he was 26; he suffered a nervous breakdown at 27; defeated in race for speaker at 29, elector at 31, Congress at 34, Senate at 46, Vice-President at 47, and again defeated for Senate at 49 years of age before becoming our 16th president at age 51

• Walt Disney sought loans from 300 banks before securing one in order to build his first theme park

They all had one thing in common: they wouldn’t be stopped. Someone once said that character is measured by what it takes to stop you. Persistence. Perseverance. Insistence. They all had it.

Look up “persistence” in a Bible dictionary and you might just find a picture of Caleb. Here is a guy who, in his later years, still mustered enough gumption to sound the charge, join the fray, wade into the deep, do the unthinkable, press his luck and tempt fate. All at one time. A warrior he, Caleb wanted to mount an offensive against an unassailable enemy of giants even in the bodily era of arthritis, rickety knees, gnarled paws and old bones.

We’re not taking the antediluvian age here. This wasn’t the day when great-great-Grandpa worked the fields when he was pushing six hundred and still cutting a rug a century later! Caleb was every bit his age of 85 when he spoke his iron-willed mind to Joshua.

“And here I am today, eighty-five years old! I’m as strong as I was the day Moses sent me out. I’m as strong as ever in battle, whether coming or going. So give me this hill country that God promised me. You yourself heard the report, that the Anakim were there with their great fortress cities. If God goes with me, I will drive them out just as God said.”
(Joshua 14:12, The Message)

Caleb’s name means “dog” and one wonders what kind of parents would name their son after a mongrel and why. Was he an outcast? We also know from his pedigree that he was not a Jew even though he is seen as a prince among Jews from the tribe of, yes, Judah. Caleb was an Edomite which happened to be a little branch from Esau’s family tree. These were the people who hated their cousins and made life miserable for them. But somewhere along the line, Caleb was adopted into the family of God’s chosen people, and not only that: into the very line of Messiah!

Scripture also reveals some other adoptees into the Lion’s Tribe: Rahab (an Amorite harlot) and Ruth (a Moabitess, the very people who were forbidden to worship with the Jews). And why not? Never lose the wonder that we too, who were far off, Paul said—aliens, strangers, without hope, without God—have been brought near to this wonderful Life and partakers of it (Eph. 2:13), having been adopted into His forever Family (Eph. 1:5).

The old guy had some moxie, I’ll give him that. An old man, fighting for his adopted homeland against an army of giants. The Anakim. The offspring of the fallen ones, the Nephilim (see Genesis 6:1,2). The sons of Anak. Their very name was whispered in hushed tones for fear of invoking a visit. The Moabites called them the Emim, the “terrors” or “horrible ones.” Others spoke of the “Rephaim”, the ’shades’, ’shadowy’ or ‘ghostly’ ones. Yikes! Yet others referred to them as Zamzummins, meaning ‘the ones who spoke gibberish.’

Get the picture?

This old man said, “uh, Joshua, my friend, those weirdos are squatting on my land. My wife and I would like to retire there but they’re in my way! I’ll not have them as my neighbors! I’d like to clear-cut the land of them so me and the Mrs. can have our dream home in peace. Whattaya say?”

Hebron. The land of Abraham. Beautiful high country. The best of the lot. Caleb wasn’t settling for anyone’s back forty. He had eyed the best and would settle for nothing less than that. Caleb was one of ten spies Moses sent into Canaan and, evidently, when he stumbed upon Hebron (Num. 13:22) it started a love affair with that place. A marginal note in the NASB says, in the place of “they came”, a possible rendering is “one came.” Probably our man Caleb.

Something in him stirred when he laid eyes on it. Maybe it was the knowledge that this is where Abraham had built his altar to the Lord. Where the progenitor of a new nation, a chosen nation, looked up into the skies and the Lord showed him the stars and promised a people that would number the earth as the stars seeded the heavens. The name Hebron means, “fellowship.” It is where Abraham experienced perpetual fellowship with God. And Caleb wanted in on that.

In spite of danger, wrecklessness, age and giants, Caleb saw it as a Divine mission and knew its end would be joy evermore. That is why he made his plea. That is why he said “we are well able to take it.” He knew God wanted him to have it and would move heaven, earth and giants so he could.

Got any rivers you think are uncrossable?
Got any mountains you can’t tunnel through?
God specializes in things thought impossible
And does the things others cannot do