Unfortunately John's computer crashed while he was on the road this week. He will put up his next post as soon as he is able to do so. Thanks for understanding!
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Sunday, July 25. 2010
Untangling Conclusion
I’ve been delayed in posting a blog this week because Joanna and I are having the pleasure and privilege of being with a small group of young ministry couples as they experience a renewal event in the Bitterroot Mountains of Montana. We’re on a 2,000 acre ranch that is quite rustic. Think port-a-potties and dust. Think great mountain views and grazing deer. Think quiet breezes blowing through pines. Think solitude. My cell phone barely works. Internet does not. I’ve not seen a TV in four days. We’re just a half-mile from the highway that connects us to the world and its frenetic pace, but I have no desire to get back on it today. I’m away from the buzz of life and I’m happy.
Most of us don’t get to live on 2,000 acre ranches. Most of us don’t even get to visit 2,000 acre ranches. Most of us live within a block of the buzz. Some of us feel like we live in the center of it.
Being on this ranch for a few days is serving me well in my quest to untangle my line. (Please read the previous 2 blogs if you are unaware of what I’m talking about.) I’ve withdrawn from the way most of the world operates. I’ve leaned in to creation.
This came at a good time. You see, from a human standpoint I’ve not made much progress on my untangling efforts so far this summer. In fact, in some ways (that I’ll share with you in a later post) life feels like it’s getting more complicated, rather than less. Occasionally on that river bank of my childhood, my inexperienced fingers only made the tangle worse for a while. Rather than eliminating the confusion, I added a loop or twist of my own.
Here’s the principle I’m thinking of today: Life complicates. Tangles happen. Without intentional effort and/or divine intervention, our lives become increasingly complex. Untangling is a proactive and, at times, laborious process. Simplification doesn’t happen naturally. Complexity does.
I believe there are countless reasons for this. Financial debt, material possessions, interpersonal relationships, physical health and many other factors guarantee that without intentional effort to the contrary, life becomes increasingly complicated.
We must be on guard—we must take the position of a sentry for our own spirit—for life can wrap us up in a knot of worry, stress and dis-ease. The good news announced to the Christ-follower is that where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. I don’t know all that Paul meant by those words, but I do know that many of us aren’t living with a sense of freedom.
I’m calling us today to make efforts for a greater experience of freedom. Untangling is doable. A lightness of spirit can be found. Solitude, simplicity and Sabbath-keeping (i.e. hearing God’s permission to spend a day renewing your soul rather than conquering your “to do” list) are powerful spiritual disciplines helping us enter in to this freedom. Forgiveness is a big one, too: Nothing tangles the line of the soul quite like the skill of hanging on to a grudge. Nothing frees it quite like the joy of letting go of the offense.
I doubt if you’ll be able to find your way to a ranch for a few days. Your back deck or the county park might do just as well. Wherever it is, pursue some soul-quieting places this summer. While you are there, listen to the Spirit and see if He whispers some ways to your spirit to get a loop or twist out of your line.
We’re losing daylight. Our time to “fish” is limited. I want to get in lots more casts before nightfall. I’ve got to get this line untangled. I hope you will, too.
Hmmn, maybe it’s time to ask Dad to help.
Traveling with you,
John
PS To post this blog I’ve driven into town and am sitting inside my car outside the bank. The locals tell me this is the best place to pick up internet service as the bank’s connection is unsecured. Evidently this is common knowledge. You gotta love Montana!
Most of us don’t get to live on 2,000 acre ranches. Most of us don’t even get to visit 2,000 acre ranches. Most of us live within a block of the buzz. Some of us feel like we live in the center of it.
Being on this ranch for a few days is serving me well in my quest to untangle my line. (Please read the previous 2 blogs if you are unaware of what I’m talking about.) I’ve withdrawn from the way most of the world operates. I’ve leaned in to creation.
This came at a good time. You see, from a human standpoint I’ve not made much progress on my untangling efforts so far this summer. In fact, in some ways (that I’ll share with you in a later post) life feels like it’s getting more complicated, rather than less. Occasionally on that river bank of my childhood, my inexperienced fingers only made the tangle worse for a while. Rather than eliminating the confusion, I added a loop or twist of my own.
Here’s the principle I’m thinking of today: Life complicates. Tangles happen. Without intentional effort and/or divine intervention, our lives become increasingly complex. Untangling is a proactive and, at times, laborious process. Simplification doesn’t happen naturally. Complexity does.
I believe there are countless reasons for this. Financial debt, material possessions, interpersonal relationships, physical health and many other factors guarantee that without intentional effort to the contrary, life becomes increasingly complicated.
We must be on guard—we must take the position of a sentry for our own spirit—for life can wrap us up in a knot of worry, stress and dis-ease. The good news announced to the Christ-follower is that where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. I don’t know all that Paul meant by those words, but I do know that many of us aren’t living with a sense of freedom.
I’m calling us today to make efforts for a greater experience of freedom. Untangling is doable. A lightness of spirit can be found. Solitude, simplicity and Sabbath-keeping (i.e. hearing God’s permission to spend a day renewing your soul rather than conquering your “to do” list) are powerful spiritual disciplines helping us enter in to this freedom. Forgiveness is a big one, too: Nothing tangles the line of the soul quite like the skill of hanging on to a grudge. Nothing frees it quite like the joy of letting go of the offense.
I doubt if you’ll be able to find your way to a ranch for a few days. Your back deck or the county park might do just as well. Wherever it is, pursue some soul-quieting places this summer. While you are there, listen to the Spirit and see if He whispers some ways to your spirit to get a loop or twist out of your line.
We’re losing daylight. Our time to “fish” is limited. I want to get in lots more casts before nightfall. I’ve got to get this line untangled. I hope you will, too.
Hmmn, maybe it’s time to ask Dad to help.
Traveling with you,
John
PS To post this blog I’ve driven into town and am sitting inside my car outside the bank. The locals tell me this is the best place to pick up internet service as the bank’s connection is unsecured. Evidently this is common knowledge. You gotta love Montana!
Posted by John Stumbo
| Comments (14)
Thursday, July 22. 2010
This week's post
John is speaking at a conference in Montana where there is no internet service available. He will put up his next post as soon as he is able to do so. Thanks for understanding!
Blog Administrator
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Posted by John Stumbo
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Thursday, July 15. 2010
Untangling: Part 2
If you read the July 8 post you know that Joanna and I are in “untangle” mode—something we’ve been working on for a month now. However, in recent days I’ve realized that my untangling metaphor has another layer to it. I’ll try to explain … but I find I need to use another picture to do so:
I purchased a new pair of glasses. They were extremely expensive. They didn’t just cost me an “arm and a leg.” They almost cost me my life.
They aren’t a pair of glasses I put on my nose and ears to focus my eyes. They are a pair I put on my heart and mind to focus my perspective. Just like Joanna reaches for her prescription glasses a dozen times a day to read a label or book, I’m reaching for these glasses throughout my day to read life.
My new glasses have an odd name: “Death Stare.” I acquired them a year and a half ago in the ICU ward at OHSU in Portland, but I’m just now figuring out how to use them.
Okay, let me stop writing in terms of metaphor and explain what I’m thinking: I’m becoming more proactive at looking at my life through the lens of my death bed experience. I’m becoming intentional about this.
For example, recently I was taking notes during a meeting. A few minutes into it, I wrote at the top of my paper, “I came back from my death bed to do this?” I surprised myself when I did it, because it was a good meeting and I was fully engaged in the conversation. However, it was a personal “reality check” moment.
I’ve complained enough in the past: you know that recovery hasn’t been an easy journey for me. Death would have been unspeakably easier. But, upon coming to accept that God has more for my life, I’ve tried to cooperate with Him in this challenging recovery process. And, I rejoice that I’m miles down the recovery path. I’m not the healthy man I was two years ago, but I’m certainly not as sick of a man as I was one year ago.
Progress is definitely being made. And, now that it is, I’m back doing more things: preaching, writing, working on the final project for the doctoral program, participating in meetings, coaching and mentoring, preparing for the launch of The Upper Room (the new Salem Alliance prayer center), etc. Yet, as I do all of this—and I’m absolutely thrilled that I can be doing these things—I’m beginning to ask this new question: Did I come back from my death bed for this? Or, to state it differently, Did God give me a second chance to live so that I would give what little time I have left to this?
This reflection has become a great tool for me to evaluate what I’m giving myself to. In the past, I often took on countless projects merely because “somebody had to do it.” There was a measure of good to this, but its inherent weakness was a lack of evaluation. I now have an evaluation tool—a pair of glasses to look through—to help decide if I’m the one to take on that project or not.
These questions—these glasses—are also becoming a helpful tool to check my emotional response. I’ve known through the years that I can become passionate about too many things. I’m embarrassed now, as I look back on life, at all the times I spoke so fervently in a meeting over an issue I now consider to be insignificant. I pounded tables, raised my voice, spiked my blood pressure, filled white boards and challenged the views of teammates with great intensity on far too many issues. I wasn’t selective with my passion. If I had an opinion, you were sure to know. I’m trying to change.
I’M NOT VERY GOOD AT THIS YET, but I’m excited about the potential that awaits me with these new glasses. When my emotions arise over a subject, I’m trying to ask myself, “Did I come back from my death bed to fight over this issue? Is this how I want to use my remaining breaths?”
Don’t be concerned, I haven’t lost any passion. In fact, it has probably increased. What I’m trying to change—where I’m seeking to mature—is to be more selective in these passions … to raise my voice on fewer issues.
And so, this too is an “untangling.” Just as I’m back on the river bank sorting out my fishing line in practical ways such as selling our home, I’m now attempting to unravel my spirit from so many issues as well.
Untangled line & death glasses. Add to that, my improved health and the pleasure of eating food. Hmmm, life might actually become enjoyable again.
Travel light. We’ve got more miles to go,
John
I purchased a new pair of glasses. They were extremely expensive. They didn’t just cost me an “arm and a leg.” They almost cost me my life.
They aren’t a pair of glasses I put on my nose and ears to focus my eyes. They are a pair I put on my heart and mind to focus my perspective. Just like Joanna reaches for her prescription glasses a dozen times a day to read a label or book, I’m reaching for these glasses throughout my day to read life.
My new glasses have an odd name: “Death Stare.” I acquired them a year and a half ago in the ICU ward at OHSU in Portland, but I’m just now figuring out how to use them.
Okay, let me stop writing in terms of metaphor and explain what I’m thinking: I’m becoming more proactive at looking at my life through the lens of my death bed experience. I’m becoming intentional about this.
For example, recently I was taking notes during a meeting. A few minutes into it, I wrote at the top of my paper, “I came back from my death bed to do this?” I surprised myself when I did it, because it was a good meeting and I was fully engaged in the conversation. However, it was a personal “reality check” moment.
I’ve complained enough in the past: you know that recovery hasn’t been an easy journey for me. Death would have been unspeakably easier. But, upon coming to accept that God has more for my life, I’ve tried to cooperate with Him in this challenging recovery process. And, I rejoice that I’m miles down the recovery path. I’m not the healthy man I was two years ago, but I’m certainly not as sick of a man as I was one year ago.
Progress is definitely being made. And, now that it is, I’m back doing more things: preaching, writing, working on the final project for the doctoral program, participating in meetings, coaching and mentoring, preparing for the launch of The Upper Room (the new Salem Alliance prayer center), etc. Yet, as I do all of this—and I’m absolutely thrilled that I can be doing these things—I’m beginning to ask this new question: Did I come back from my death bed for this? Or, to state it differently, Did God give me a second chance to live so that I would give what little time I have left to this?
This reflection has become a great tool for me to evaluate what I’m giving myself to. In the past, I often took on countless projects merely because “somebody had to do it.” There was a measure of good to this, but its inherent weakness was a lack of evaluation. I now have an evaluation tool—a pair of glasses to look through—to help decide if I’m the one to take on that project or not.
These questions—these glasses—are also becoming a helpful tool to check my emotional response. I’ve known through the years that I can become passionate about too many things. I’m embarrassed now, as I look back on life, at all the times I spoke so fervently in a meeting over an issue I now consider to be insignificant. I pounded tables, raised my voice, spiked my blood pressure, filled white boards and challenged the views of teammates with great intensity on far too many issues. I wasn’t selective with my passion. If I had an opinion, you were sure to know. I’m trying to change.
I’M NOT VERY GOOD AT THIS YET, but I’m excited about the potential that awaits me with these new glasses. When my emotions arise over a subject, I’m trying to ask myself, “Did I come back from my death bed to fight over this issue? Is this how I want to use my remaining breaths?”
Don’t be concerned, I haven’t lost any passion. In fact, it has probably increased. What I’m trying to change—where I’m seeking to mature—is to be more selective in these passions … to raise my voice on fewer issues.
And so, this too is an “untangling.” Just as I’m back on the river bank sorting out my fishing line in practical ways such as selling our home, I’m now attempting to unravel my spirit from so many issues as well.
Untangled line & death glasses. Add to that, my improved health and the pleasure of eating food. Hmmm, life might actually become enjoyable again.
Travel light. We’ve got more miles to go,
John
Posted by John Stumbo
| Comments (21)
Thursday, July 8. 2010
Untangling: Part One
Some of you already know this, but let me bring everyone up to date: Joanna and I feel like the summer of 2010 is a season for us to “untangle.”
The metaphor comes from my boyhood when I spent countless hours fishing—often on the banks of the Mississippi River. Every time I fished, it was inevitable that I would need to untangle my line. Innumerable are the ways a kid-fisherman can get his line tangled, and I found most of them. As a result, I would take a seat on the river bank to sort out the mess I had caused. My fishing was delayed for a few minutes, but once untangled, I was free to cast out again. No one can fish effectively with a tangled line.
As Joanna and I take a seat on the river bank together, we find that our lives are entangled in a half dozen ways. We’re proactively working and regularly praying that we could get our lives untangled from these things in the months to come so that we would be free to cast out again.
For example, I’ve wanted to complete a doctoral program for fifteen years. I’ve been enrolled in one for five. It’s time to finish. It has become a knot in my line and I need to sort it out. I have November 3 set aside on my calendar for my oral defense. The end is in sight! But, like a kid on the riverbank, it’s time to plop my back side down in a chair and do what needs to be done.
Another example: While our home served us well during the years I was healthy and the kids were home, it is now another tangle in our line. It’s a great home. We’ve loved it. Yet, this is a season to simplify our finances, yard maintenance, etc. (By the way, we’ve had people from the church take over our yard care since my illness. The body of Christ has been so kind to us. But how long does one impose on this kindness?) All this to say, our home is on the market. A realtor’s sign—looking so out of place—hangs by our driveway. I was surprised by the emotion I felt when I saw it … but it’s time.
Being released from the feeding tube would be another major “untangle” experience. God continues to strengthen my swallowing. I am clearly improving. Yet, I still need the tube. “Feeding Tube Freedom Day” will be exciting! I’ll keep you posted. Meanwhile, I munch and pray. (I have a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios beside me as I write this.)
So, now you know some of what Joanna and I have been working on and praying about in recent weeks. Selling a home kicks all manner of activity into action: cleaning closets, maintenance projects and garage sales (yes, it will take more than one.) Finishing a doctorate has a list of it’s own. But with each box sorted or final project page written, we’re making incremental progress toward our untangling goal.
More on this later. I think the Lord is taking this metaphor a step further in my life, but give me another week to process it.
Meanwhile, let me throw on the “pastor hat” and remind us of the well-known instructions found in Hebrews 12, Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. “Throw off”—unburden yourself—and run freely. Wise words.
Jesus himself had something to say about this as well, The seed that fell among thorns stands for those who hear, but as they go to on their way they are choked by life’s worries, riches and pleasures, and they do not mature.
Jesus’ words make me think of some of the vines that grow here in the fertile Pacific Northwest. To the naïve, they look like they are full of “life.” They are green, aggressive and abundant. Yet, in a sense, they carry “death.” Left to grow around your other plants, they will choke them out and take over. You don’t just prune such vines. If you care about your garden or landscape, you poison or uproot them.
So, pick your picture: untangle, unburden or uproot—fishing line, extra baggage or threatening vines. My hunch is, whatever one you choose, you can probably find some way to apply this to your life as well.
Talk to you again soon,
John
PS Got an untangling story of your own? Share it with us. Some of our blog readers benefit as much from the comments as they do from the blog itself.
The metaphor comes from my boyhood when I spent countless hours fishing—often on the banks of the Mississippi River. Every time I fished, it was inevitable that I would need to untangle my line. Innumerable are the ways a kid-fisherman can get his line tangled, and I found most of them. As a result, I would take a seat on the river bank to sort out the mess I had caused. My fishing was delayed for a few minutes, but once untangled, I was free to cast out again. No one can fish effectively with a tangled line.
As Joanna and I take a seat on the river bank together, we find that our lives are entangled in a half dozen ways. We’re proactively working and regularly praying that we could get our lives untangled from these things in the months to come so that we would be free to cast out again.
For example, I’ve wanted to complete a doctoral program for fifteen years. I’ve been enrolled in one for five. It’s time to finish. It has become a knot in my line and I need to sort it out. I have November 3 set aside on my calendar for my oral defense. The end is in sight! But, like a kid on the riverbank, it’s time to plop my back side down in a chair and do what needs to be done.
Another example: While our home served us well during the years I was healthy and the kids were home, it is now another tangle in our line. It’s a great home. We’ve loved it. Yet, this is a season to simplify our finances, yard maintenance, etc. (By the way, we’ve had people from the church take over our yard care since my illness. The body of Christ has been so kind to us. But how long does one impose on this kindness?) All this to say, our home is on the market. A realtor’s sign—looking so out of place—hangs by our driveway. I was surprised by the emotion I felt when I saw it … but it’s time.
Being released from the feeding tube would be another major “untangle” experience. God continues to strengthen my swallowing. I am clearly improving. Yet, I still need the tube. “Feeding Tube Freedom Day” will be exciting! I’ll keep you posted. Meanwhile, I munch and pray. (I have a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios beside me as I write this.)
So, now you know some of what Joanna and I have been working on and praying about in recent weeks. Selling a home kicks all manner of activity into action: cleaning closets, maintenance projects and garage sales (yes, it will take more than one.) Finishing a doctorate has a list of it’s own. But with each box sorted or final project page written, we’re making incremental progress toward our untangling goal.
More on this later. I think the Lord is taking this metaphor a step further in my life, but give me another week to process it.
Meanwhile, let me throw on the “pastor hat” and remind us of the well-known instructions found in Hebrews 12, Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. “Throw off”—unburden yourself—and run freely. Wise words.
Jesus himself had something to say about this as well, The seed that fell among thorns stands for those who hear, but as they go to on their way they are choked by life’s worries, riches and pleasures, and they do not mature.
Jesus’ words make me think of some of the vines that grow here in the fertile Pacific Northwest. To the naïve, they look like they are full of “life.” They are green, aggressive and abundant. Yet, in a sense, they carry “death.” Left to grow around your other plants, they will choke them out and take over. You don’t just prune such vines. If you care about your garden or landscape, you poison or uproot them.
So, pick your picture: untangle, unburden or uproot—fishing line, extra baggage or threatening vines. My hunch is, whatever one you choose, you can probably find some way to apply this to your life as well.
Talk to you again soon,
John
PS Got an untangling story of your own? Share it with us. Some of our blog readers benefit as much from the comments as they do from the blog itself.
Posted by John Stumbo
| Comments (11)
Friday, July 2. 2010
On Snipers and Souls and Hard Days
I know I caused some concern by my last blog. Thanks for your love and prayers in response. I hesitated to post it because I didn't want to worry you. Yet, at the same time, I have this high level of commitment to do what I promised 18 months ago…to give you "an honest look into a mysterious journey." Hence, a post like yesterdays. I don't think you'd want it any other way. I know I wouldn't. Pretending takes too much energy.
Today I've been thinking about Elijah. He was the character in my devotional reading (I Kings). I'm intrigued by the way he handles solitude, deprivation, death, the king and eventually the huge showdown on Mount Carmel. Before the day is over, fire has fallen from heaven, 850 false prophets are humiliated and slain, the people of God have returned to Him in repentance and a three year drought has come to an end. Not a bad day's work for a prophet. He even got in a good run to finish the day off right. My kind of man.
Then came a one sentence threat from the Queen who hadn't even come to his big faceoff with the false prophets. She says that before the sun sets again, she's going to make sure that he is like them … as in "dead." The man who took on the heavy artillery of hundreds of prophets in the presence of thousands of people gets picked off by a lone sniper in the palace. The Queen doesn't actually kill him, of course. But she does effectively kill his spirit. He flees faster than you can say "scared rabbit." And, he's suddenly so depressed he wants God to take his life…now. His attitude is, "I'd rather die than face another day." Elijah the stouthearted becomes Elijah the no-hearted.
I didn't slip that low yesterday, don't worry. I wasn't asking God to take me home…besides, I already know His answer to that prayer: "No. I've got a job for you to do here. You tried that dying thing already, now get on with life!" (Those weren't God's exact words, mind you, but I think I got the gist of what He has been saying on that matter.)
I can relate to the “getting picked off by the sniper” routine, though. I'm amazed at how many hard days and how much bad news and how many life changing factors I can face with relative strength, only to have one phone call or one difficult conversation completely flatten me. I feel like I can successfully navigate a field of land mines, defend against the artillery and dodge the air strike only to have some pistol in a guy’s pocket take me out.
What Elijah is about to learn is that the Queen doesn’t have final say. She can threaten and wield great intimidation with her threats, but his life is in the hands of Another…and so is yours and mine.
It would take quite a bit to get Elijah back to a good place—a few really good meals, a couple long naps, some solitude, a revelation of God's presence, some new assignments and a ministry partner (Elisha). I don't think it will take this much for me, at least not this time around…although the "really good meals" thing does sound very inviting! I don't believe we're supposed to take Elijah's story and make a formula out of it, Six Steps to Soul Recovery. The example is a good one and the principles are significant, but the fact is that God works uniquely in each of us. And, a good work He does!
He's not One to leave His troops wounded on the side of the road. In my latest battle I haven't seen Him yet, but I know He's near.
So, take heart with me tonight, wounded soldier. Your injury isn't fatal. Your enemy is temporary. Your Redeemer and Healer is near. We may have caught the sniper’s bullet, but the Lord will catch us. Of that I am certain.
Fighting along side of you,
John
Today I've been thinking about Elijah. He was the character in my devotional reading (I Kings). I'm intrigued by the way he handles solitude, deprivation, death, the king and eventually the huge showdown on Mount Carmel. Before the day is over, fire has fallen from heaven, 850 false prophets are humiliated and slain, the people of God have returned to Him in repentance and a three year drought has come to an end. Not a bad day's work for a prophet. He even got in a good run to finish the day off right. My kind of man.
Then came a one sentence threat from the Queen who hadn't even come to his big faceoff with the false prophets. She says that before the sun sets again, she's going to make sure that he is like them … as in "dead." The man who took on the heavy artillery of hundreds of prophets in the presence of thousands of people gets picked off by a lone sniper in the palace. The Queen doesn't actually kill him, of course. But she does effectively kill his spirit. He flees faster than you can say "scared rabbit." And, he's suddenly so depressed he wants God to take his life…now. His attitude is, "I'd rather die than face another day." Elijah the stouthearted becomes Elijah the no-hearted.
I didn't slip that low yesterday, don't worry. I wasn't asking God to take me home…besides, I already know His answer to that prayer: "No. I've got a job for you to do here. You tried that dying thing already, now get on with life!" (Those weren't God's exact words, mind you, but I think I got the gist of what He has been saying on that matter.)
I can relate to the “getting picked off by the sniper” routine, though. I'm amazed at how many hard days and how much bad news and how many life changing factors I can face with relative strength, only to have one phone call or one difficult conversation completely flatten me. I feel like I can successfully navigate a field of land mines, defend against the artillery and dodge the air strike only to have some pistol in a guy’s pocket take me out.
What Elijah is about to learn is that the Queen doesn’t have final say. She can threaten and wield great intimidation with her threats, but his life is in the hands of Another…and so is yours and mine.
It would take quite a bit to get Elijah back to a good place—a few really good meals, a couple long naps, some solitude, a revelation of God's presence, some new assignments and a ministry partner (Elisha). I don't think it will take this much for me, at least not this time around…although the "really good meals" thing does sound very inviting! I don't believe we're supposed to take Elijah's story and make a formula out of it, Six Steps to Soul Recovery. The example is a good one and the principles are significant, but the fact is that God works uniquely in each of us. And, a good work He does!
He's not One to leave His troops wounded on the side of the road. In my latest battle I haven't seen Him yet, but I know He's near.
So, take heart with me tonight, wounded soldier. Your injury isn't fatal. Your enemy is temporary. Your Redeemer and Healer is near. We may have caught the sniper’s bullet, but the Lord will catch us. Of that I am certain.
Fighting along side of you,
John
Posted by John Stumbo
| Comments (12)
Thursday, July 1. 2010
It's Wednesday
It's Wednesday night.
It's my night to write to you…this blog community I have come to appreciate so deeply.
I tried. I really did.
I started a follow-up to last week's theme of shame. It actually has some potential, but it refuses to be written tonight.
I started a poem on the death of dreams. It doesn't have much potential, especially tonight.
I considered providing a summary of my day--the dying man, the raging envy, the wounded heart, the shocking news, the latest test--but really can't. Each story is too raw, too fresh or too confidential to splatter over the web.
As a pastor, I have a front row seat to the pain-filled drama of this world. As a husband and dad, I have a backstage pass or even a director's chair. And, as a man myself, I have an active role in this same drama--I find that I am one of the characters. Some days, like this one, I follow the script in disbelief. It doesn't read like I'd expect.
To change the metaphor…
Like a sneaker wave at the coast, today tried to catch me unguarded and sweep me out to sea. I'm grateful for the solid footing established through the faith that has been rebuilt this past year. The wave didn't carry me away, but my sneakers are awfully soggy and I'm chilled by the splash.
Give me a little time. I'll find a towel and regroup. I'll clean the sand out of my socks and head out again.
But for the moment, I have little to say. I process better in silence…at least the deepest things of the soul. Something "trivial" like a colonoscopy I can process in public (remember that blog?), but when the scope takes a tour of my innermost being, I must pause, wait…reflect.
When the ancient song writer, Asaph, had a day (or season) like this, he waited to express himself until he had "entered the sanctuary of God." There he gained a perspective on the trials of his life and questions of his soul. He knew that if he had spoken too early, it would have caused harm. In his words, "If I had said, 'I will speak thus,' I would have betrayed your children." (See Psalm 73)
So, with my friend from ancient times, I will wait to speak. I will seek His sanctuary. To try to understand is "oppressive" (73:16), but in time the Spirit will bring His counsel to my soul.
Meanwhile, I claim his declaration as my own, "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever…as for me, it is good to be near God. I have made the Sovereign Lord my refuge, I will tell of all your deeds." (73:26, 28)
Watch out for those waves.
Dry out those socks.
We've got more miles to travel.
Your companion in the journey,
John
It's my night to write to you…this blog community I have come to appreciate so deeply.
I tried. I really did.
I started a follow-up to last week's theme of shame. It actually has some potential, but it refuses to be written tonight.
I started a poem on the death of dreams. It doesn't have much potential, especially tonight.
I considered providing a summary of my day--the dying man, the raging envy, the wounded heart, the shocking news, the latest test--but really can't. Each story is too raw, too fresh or too confidential to splatter over the web.
As a pastor, I have a front row seat to the pain-filled drama of this world. As a husband and dad, I have a backstage pass or even a director's chair. And, as a man myself, I have an active role in this same drama--I find that I am one of the characters. Some days, like this one, I follow the script in disbelief. It doesn't read like I'd expect.
To change the metaphor…
Like a sneaker wave at the coast, today tried to catch me unguarded and sweep me out to sea. I'm grateful for the solid footing established through the faith that has been rebuilt this past year. The wave didn't carry me away, but my sneakers are awfully soggy and I'm chilled by the splash.
Give me a little time. I'll find a towel and regroup. I'll clean the sand out of my socks and head out again.
But for the moment, I have little to say. I process better in silence…at least the deepest things of the soul. Something "trivial" like a colonoscopy I can process in public (remember that blog?), but when the scope takes a tour of my innermost being, I must pause, wait…reflect.
When the ancient song writer, Asaph, had a day (or season) like this, he waited to express himself until he had "entered the sanctuary of God." There he gained a perspective on the trials of his life and questions of his soul. He knew that if he had spoken too early, it would have caused harm. In his words, "If I had said, 'I will speak thus,' I would have betrayed your children." (See Psalm 73)
So, with my friend from ancient times, I will wait to speak. I will seek His sanctuary. To try to understand is "oppressive" (73:16), but in time the Spirit will bring His counsel to my soul.
Meanwhile, I claim his declaration as my own, "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever…as for me, it is good to be near God. I have made the Sovereign Lord my refuge, I will tell of all your deeds." (73:26, 28)
Watch out for those waves.
Dry out those socks.
We've got more miles to travel.
Your companion in the journey,
John
Posted by John Stumbo
| Comments (19)
Thursday, June 24. 2010
The Woman in the Hall
Recently I shared that with my increasing energy, I've opened up myself and my calendar to speaking opportunities as they might arise. The response has been very encouraging. I share the following schedule so that a) you can see what I'm up to, b) you can pray with me for these events, and c) you can join us if you live in the areas mentioned. Here's what the next 90 days look like:
July 4--Dallas Alliance, Dallas, OR
July 21-26--Connor, MT (Pastors Conference--not open to public)
August 1--Perham Community Alliance Church, Perham, MN
August 8--Community Heights Alliance Church, Newton, Iowa
August 25--Corban College (off campus leadership event)
August 29--East Hills Alliance Church, Kelso, WA
September 11/12--Broadway Commons Grand Opening, Salem, OR
September 13--(Tentative) Opening Day for The Upper Room (our new prayer center in Broadway Commons)
September 18/19--Smokey Point Community Church, Arlington, WA
Interspersed throughout these weeks, I'll also have the privilege of preaching a few times at Salem Alliance.
Meanwhile, I continue my role at Salem Alliance and am making progress on completing the writing necessary to finish the Doctor of Ministry degree I began a few years before becoming ill. And, I think I'm walking about 15 miles a week. I praise God for the energy he is giving me…a direct answer to your prayers! A year ago today I was in a completely different place, still relying on the wheelchair and only able to write, read or think an hour or two a day. I was persevering but discouraged. I was sleeping upwards of 15 hours a day. I wasn't seeing much sign of improvement. But you kept praying, and I'm praising God for where I am today. It makes me hopeful for what June 2011 will hold!
Switching gears: I wrote this for our church Perspectives Column but I want to share it with you today. It gives a window into my recent experience at Mayo and is a prelude to the message I'm preparing for Salem Alliance.
The Woman in the Hall
She had her back turned to me as I took my seat. I knew exactly what she was doing, but she was hiding it. I could sense what she was feeling: awkwardness, embarrassment…even shame.
I was at the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale, AZ. I had been escorted into a hallway with a couple chairs plopped in front of a TV stuck on a home improvement channel. The Mayo has at least six beautiful waiting areas, but this wasn't one of them. It was a drab hall with only a few chairs indicating that not many people had the need to find their way to this part of the building.
The embarrassed woman and I were the only two seated as we waited to be given the barium swallow test where a technician and speech/swallow therapist monitor attempts to swallow under video x-ray.
I greeted her as I sat down, but she kept her back turned to me as she said, "I'm not trying to be rude."
"I understand," I said. "I have one, too."
"You do?!" She said with shocked surprise, turning toward me and revealing the feeding tube she was pouring formula into.
I don't think she had ever met anyone who shared her experience of having difficulty with swallowing that required the insertion of a feeding tube into her stomach. It's something we tend to hide and for her it brought with it some shame.
I wasn't hungry, but I reached into my backpack, pulled out a can of formula and a syringe and said, "Let's have lunch together!"
She relaxed and smiled. The embarrassment and shame gone. Her story spilled out faster than her formula. I had made a friend.
Hiding under shirts or behind doors or within hearts is a world of shame…shame that in turn causes us to hide. Like the leaf-wearing couple hiding from God in the garden, we still cover and cower today. Like the noontime well-user in Samaria, we let our shame isolate us. It's unnecessary. Jesus knows our hiding places. He meets us there.
He's the God who understands pain and rejection, suffering and shame, scars and crosses. You're not going to surprise Him or tell Him anything He hasn't heard before. He's either already experienced it Himself or shed His blood for it.
The fog of shame disappears in the sun of acceptance. Come out of hiding. Love is waiting.
In His Grip,
John
July 4--Dallas Alliance, Dallas, OR
July 21-26--Connor, MT (Pastors Conference--not open to public)
August 1--Perham Community Alliance Church, Perham, MN
August 8--Community Heights Alliance Church, Newton, Iowa
August 25--Corban College (off campus leadership event)
August 29--East Hills Alliance Church, Kelso, WA
September 11/12--Broadway Commons Grand Opening, Salem, OR
September 13--(Tentative) Opening Day for The Upper Room (our new prayer center in Broadway Commons)
September 18/19--Smokey Point Community Church, Arlington, WA
Interspersed throughout these weeks, I'll also have the privilege of preaching a few times at Salem Alliance.
Meanwhile, I continue my role at Salem Alliance and am making progress on completing the writing necessary to finish the Doctor of Ministry degree I began a few years before becoming ill. And, I think I'm walking about 15 miles a week. I praise God for the energy he is giving me…a direct answer to your prayers! A year ago today I was in a completely different place, still relying on the wheelchair and only able to write, read or think an hour or two a day. I was persevering but discouraged. I was sleeping upwards of 15 hours a day. I wasn't seeing much sign of improvement. But you kept praying, and I'm praising God for where I am today. It makes me hopeful for what June 2011 will hold!
Switching gears: I wrote this for our church Perspectives Column but I want to share it with you today. It gives a window into my recent experience at Mayo and is a prelude to the message I'm preparing for Salem Alliance.
The Woman in the Hall
She had her back turned to me as I took my seat. I knew exactly what she was doing, but she was hiding it. I could sense what she was feeling: awkwardness, embarrassment…even shame.
I was at the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale, AZ. I had been escorted into a hallway with a couple chairs plopped in front of a TV stuck on a home improvement channel. The Mayo has at least six beautiful waiting areas, but this wasn't one of them. It was a drab hall with only a few chairs indicating that not many people had the need to find their way to this part of the building.
The embarrassed woman and I were the only two seated as we waited to be given the barium swallow test where a technician and speech/swallow therapist monitor attempts to swallow under video x-ray.
I greeted her as I sat down, but she kept her back turned to me as she said, "I'm not trying to be rude."
"I understand," I said. "I have one, too."
"You do?!" She said with shocked surprise, turning toward me and revealing the feeding tube she was pouring formula into.
I don't think she had ever met anyone who shared her experience of having difficulty with swallowing that required the insertion of a feeding tube into her stomach. It's something we tend to hide and for her it brought with it some shame.
I wasn't hungry, but I reached into my backpack, pulled out a can of formula and a syringe and said, "Let's have lunch together!"
She relaxed and smiled. The embarrassment and shame gone. Her story spilled out faster than her formula. I had made a friend.
Hiding under shirts or behind doors or within hearts is a world of shame…shame that in turn causes us to hide. Like the leaf-wearing couple hiding from God in the garden, we still cover and cower today. Like the noontime well-user in Samaria, we let our shame isolate us. It's unnecessary. Jesus knows our hiding places. He meets us there.
He's the God who understands pain and rejection, suffering and shame, scars and crosses. You're not going to surprise Him or tell Him anything He hasn't heard before. He's either already experienced it Himself or shed His blood for it.
The fog of shame disappears in the sun of acceptance. Come out of hiding. Love is waiting.
In His Grip,
John
Posted by John Stumbo
| Comments (22)
Thursday, June 17. 2010
June Update
My daughter, Anna, who had gone in to work at 4:15a.m. to get a project started, drove me to the Scottsdale Mayo Clinic. Past saguaro cacti almost as tall as palm trees, we drove through a neighborhood of high end homes, all the color of the landscape. The morning temperature was already pushing 100 degrees as we stepped out of the car into the Mayo parking lot to hear the chimes play, "O What a Wonderful Feeling, O What a Beautiful Day." Evidently the Mayo wants you to think happy thoughts.
We entered the building to be swept into a current of kindness and efficiency. Everyone was helpful. Everyone knew what they were doing. I had a very thorough exam from a highly respected doctor who took more time with me than I expected. He drew some initial conclusions but then set up my schedule for the next day.
Day two was a flurry of filling out forms, phlebotomy (19 vials of blood and one cup of urine…I'm glad those numbers weren't reversed!), and fascinating conversations with friendly doctors (5 appointments in 8 hours.) The day concluded with another visit with my initial doctor who already had the results from my other appointments before him.
Here are a few things I learned:
1. My swallow is functioning at about 10% capacity. This was a little disappointing, but it sure was fun--after all the unsuccessful tests of the past 18 months--to watch the barium go all the way down my esophagus. And, I can tell that even in the days since then, my swallow continues to gradually improve.
2. I gained a better understanding about the nerve damage in my left leg and a reassured hope that it will improve.
3. I gained some helpful, although hopefully unnecessary, information about feeding tubes. I continue to pray that this will be the last tube I ever have.
4. The most significant sentence I heard was, 'Mr. Stoombo, I can say with certainty, you have Dermatomyositis.' This is the diagnosis I've been treated for the last year. (It doesn't fully explain what about killed me at first, but it does explain much of what is going on in my body now.) The doctor verified that some of the treatment I am receiving is appropriate and significant while immediately taking me off one medication…one I've always questioned. So, I've happily quit taking it. There is a chance that by getting off of this medication that my anemia will improve--my blood level and counts have remained low all year. This may have been a contributing factor.
5. One doctor (whose cool name sounds like a sports car driven by a Saudi sheik) wants me to come back and run numerous tests to see if I have an 'overlapping' condition as well...that I may have something else going on besides the Dermatomyositis. I'll talk to my local doctor about this.
Meanwhile, Anna and Jeff were fabulous hosts. We had a great time together. It was so nice to sit at restaurants with them and be able to join in--only one hour for the peanut butter DQ shake!
Those are all the facts, but some of you want to know how I'm really doing with all this. Here's the real answer: I was disappointed…to say it mildly. I didn't hear what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear, "Mr. Stumbo, they misdiagnosed your disease and here's the remedy that will have you back to normal soon." Instead, the doctor looked me in the eye and said that I would never run the long distances again that I once did. A second Mayo doctor said, "You have a condition that you will have to learn to live with." It was sobering.
I've had a week to process it and here's where I'm at today.
1) I believe that it is good to be told the truth and accept it. This is my condition. I need to face it. I respect those who face the truth about themselves and want to be one of those people.
2) I believe that this is all the more reason to continue to pray for healing. If God continues to heal me completely, the statements from these doctors will only add to the glory God receives for the healing.
3) I need to accept that without divine intervention, medicine will only be able to do so much for me. According to the National Association of Neurological Disorders, "There is no cure for Dermatomyositis." That's pretty straightforward.
A few months ago I wrote that I was seeking to: "Accept today. Battle for a better tomorrow." In my post-Mayo reflection, I realize that this is more appropriate than ever.
Much of this "battle" is in prayer. So many of you are battling with me and I thank you again.
He has healed me, He is healing me, He will heal me.
May He grant you the grace to accept whatever you face today, while determining to do what you can so that tomorrow is better.
Battling with you,
John
We entered the building to be swept into a current of kindness and efficiency. Everyone was helpful. Everyone knew what they were doing. I had a very thorough exam from a highly respected doctor who took more time with me than I expected. He drew some initial conclusions but then set up my schedule for the next day.
Day two was a flurry of filling out forms, phlebotomy (19 vials of blood and one cup of urine…I'm glad those numbers weren't reversed!), and fascinating conversations with friendly doctors (5 appointments in 8 hours.) The day concluded with another visit with my initial doctor who already had the results from my other appointments before him.
Here are a few things I learned:
1. My swallow is functioning at about 10% capacity. This was a little disappointing, but it sure was fun--after all the unsuccessful tests of the past 18 months--to watch the barium go all the way down my esophagus. And, I can tell that even in the days since then, my swallow continues to gradually improve.
2. I gained a better understanding about the nerve damage in my left leg and a reassured hope that it will improve.
3. I gained some helpful, although hopefully unnecessary, information about feeding tubes. I continue to pray that this will be the last tube I ever have.
4. The most significant sentence I heard was, 'Mr. Stoombo, I can say with certainty, you have Dermatomyositis.' This is the diagnosis I've been treated for the last year. (It doesn't fully explain what about killed me at first, but it does explain much of what is going on in my body now.) The doctor verified that some of the treatment I am receiving is appropriate and significant while immediately taking me off one medication…one I've always questioned. So, I've happily quit taking it. There is a chance that by getting off of this medication that my anemia will improve--my blood level and counts have remained low all year. This may have been a contributing factor.
5. One doctor (whose cool name sounds like a sports car driven by a Saudi sheik) wants me to come back and run numerous tests to see if I have an 'overlapping' condition as well...that I may have something else going on besides the Dermatomyositis. I'll talk to my local doctor about this.
Meanwhile, Anna and Jeff were fabulous hosts. We had a great time together. It was so nice to sit at restaurants with them and be able to join in--only one hour for the peanut butter DQ shake!
Those are all the facts, but some of you want to know how I'm really doing with all this. Here's the real answer: I was disappointed…to say it mildly. I didn't hear what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear, "Mr. Stumbo, they misdiagnosed your disease and here's the remedy that will have you back to normal soon." Instead, the doctor looked me in the eye and said that I would never run the long distances again that I once did. A second Mayo doctor said, "You have a condition that you will have to learn to live with." It was sobering.
I've had a week to process it and here's where I'm at today.
1) I believe that it is good to be told the truth and accept it. This is my condition. I need to face it. I respect those who face the truth about themselves and want to be one of those people.
2) I believe that this is all the more reason to continue to pray for healing. If God continues to heal me completely, the statements from these doctors will only add to the glory God receives for the healing.
3) I need to accept that without divine intervention, medicine will only be able to do so much for me. According to the National Association of Neurological Disorders, "There is no cure for Dermatomyositis." That's pretty straightforward.
A few months ago I wrote that I was seeking to: "Accept today. Battle for a better tomorrow." In my post-Mayo reflection, I realize that this is more appropriate than ever.
Much of this "battle" is in prayer. So many of you are battling with me and I thank you again.
He has healed me, He is healing me, He will heal me.
May He grant you the grace to accept whatever you face today, while determining to do what you can so that tomorrow is better.
Battling with you,
John
Posted by John Stumbo
| Comments (13)
Friday, June 11. 2010
Storylines
Something "glitched" with my computer and this didn't get posted. I haven't been slackin' or forgot about ya! Here's what I intended to post yesterday .
Well, the "walk and munch" was sure fun. At least I thought so anyway.
I was surprised when Joanna and I couldn't find a parking spot at Riverfront last Saturday. It did make a difference that it was the first really nice day Salem had in weeks. Somebody prayed.
But the real shock came when I stepped out of the van. Over 100 smiling faces greeted me. Amazing. I promptly forgot most everything I was going to say. Nobody knew.
We headed out at our own paces. It was fun to see people from young kids to the over 80 crowd. Families. Friends. Mother/daughter, husband/wife, grandma/granddaughter combinations. One celebrating a birthday (one of the things I forgot to mention--sorry Michelle!). One processing the grief of losing a loved one just days before. One who slipped a Jamba Juice into my hand (thanks, Christy!) My walk and munch became a walk, sip and munch.
Lots of good conversation. Plenty of smiles. An abundance of curious looks and not a few "what's going on here" questions.
I owe Mike at Great Harvest an apology.
"I don't know whether to expect 25 or 75," I told him a week earlier. "Let's plan for 50."
So we doubled that and then some. We were just a couple cookies short of a perfect day.
Thanks to all who celebrated God's healing journey with us. I greatly appreciate all of you who are part of this blog community.
I pray that this blogging experience wouldn't just be about Joanna and me…although it is a great source of encouragement to us. But I pray and long that our story would assist you in writing yours better. "Let us spur one another on to love and good works," the author of Hebrews tells us. May this blog be a practical expression of that verse.
Speaking of stories, mine keeps getting more interesting. I'm writing this blog from a lobby of the beautiful Mayo Clinic facility in Scottsdale, AZ. It's bonus that I've been able to spend the last few days with our daughter and son-in-law, Anna and Jeff. They sure know how to host a dad.
I'll plan to give a full account of my adventure here next week. I've got a page full of appointments that I need to finish before the story is complete.
For today, I'll report that the Mayo appears to be a happy place to work. The staff seems relaxed. They appear to actually like working together. Kindness permeates. They've built this place around caring for people. I feel valued.
All this changes when my doctor enters the room. He is a man who evidently views words as currency and he's the embodiment of "cheap." He grew up in the Great Verbal Depression. Words are to be saved, not foolishly spent. His Rule of Operation (an unstated rule, obviously): "Never use a sentence when a single word will do."
I respect him, though. His silence makes one think he must be brilliant. Talking only delays the opportunity to think and he has a lot to think about right now: me.
I take his cue. This preacher will join him in the silence and let him do his brain work.
When my appointment with him was over and I was back at the scheduling desk, the receptionist cautiously asked me how it went. Evidently he has a reputation.
"I thought he was great," I said.
"He wasn't …" She was careful with her words. "Well, some patients just don't like him very well."
"I wasn't hoping to make a friend. I just wanted his medical help."
She breathed a sigh of relief and commended my approach.
And I was reminded that the expectations we bring into a room--or a relationship--matters immensely. More than one perfectly beneficial experience is ruined because it wasn't the experience I expected to have.
It's impossible to never have expectations. That's not the goal. But it is possible to be aware of our expectations…and alter them if they are messing things up.
Don't expect the doctor to be your friend, too. Just let her or him be your medical expert.
Don't expect the fastest or most talented person on the team be the team leader, too. They may not have that gift.
Don't expect your church to be your sole source of spiritual development. It should be a source, but not the source.
Don't expect your neighbor to be neighborly and help you with your home project. If they do. Fantastic. If not, you shouldn't be mad at them for not meeting your arbitrary expectations.
Don't expect your spouse to meet all of your needs. He/she is your spouse, not your God.
You get the point. You will write better chapters to your story as you understand what is driving the main character's actions.
More next week,
John
Well, the "walk and munch" was sure fun. At least I thought so anyway.
I was surprised when Joanna and I couldn't find a parking spot at Riverfront last Saturday. It did make a difference that it was the first really nice day Salem had in weeks. Somebody prayed.
But the real shock came when I stepped out of the van. Over 100 smiling faces greeted me. Amazing. I promptly forgot most everything I was going to say. Nobody knew.
We headed out at our own paces. It was fun to see people from young kids to the over 80 crowd. Families. Friends. Mother/daughter, husband/wife, grandma/granddaughter combinations. One celebrating a birthday (one of the things I forgot to mention--sorry Michelle!). One processing the grief of losing a loved one just days before. One who slipped a Jamba Juice into my hand (thanks, Christy!) My walk and munch became a walk, sip and munch.
Lots of good conversation. Plenty of smiles. An abundance of curious looks and not a few "what's going on here" questions.
I owe Mike at Great Harvest an apology.
"I don't know whether to expect 25 or 75," I told him a week earlier. "Let's plan for 50."
So we doubled that and then some. We were just a couple cookies short of a perfect day.
Thanks to all who celebrated God's healing journey with us. I greatly appreciate all of you who are part of this blog community.
I pray that this blogging experience wouldn't just be about Joanna and me…although it is a great source of encouragement to us. But I pray and long that our story would assist you in writing yours better. "Let us spur one another on to love and good works," the author of Hebrews tells us. May this blog be a practical expression of that verse.
Speaking of stories, mine keeps getting more interesting. I'm writing this blog from a lobby of the beautiful Mayo Clinic facility in Scottsdale, AZ. It's bonus that I've been able to spend the last few days with our daughter and son-in-law, Anna and Jeff. They sure know how to host a dad.
I'll plan to give a full account of my adventure here next week. I've got a page full of appointments that I need to finish before the story is complete.
For today, I'll report that the Mayo appears to be a happy place to work. The staff seems relaxed. They appear to actually like working together. Kindness permeates. They've built this place around caring for people. I feel valued.
All this changes when my doctor enters the room. He is a man who evidently views words as currency and he's the embodiment of "cheap." He grew up in the Great Verbal Depression. Words are to be saved, not foolishly spent. His Rule of Operation (an unstated rule, obviously): "Never use a sentence when a single word will do."
I respect him, though. His silence makes one think he must be brilliant. Talking only delays the opportunity to think and he has a lot to think about right now: me.
I take his cue. This preacher will join him in the silence and let him do his brain work.
When my appointment with him was over and I was back at the scheduling desk, the receptionist cautiously asked me how it went. Evidently he has a reputation.
"I thought he was great," I said.
"He wasn't …" She was careful with her words. "Well, some patients just don't like him very well."
"I wasn't hoping to make a friend. I just wanted his medical help."
She breathed a sigh of relief and commended my approach.
And I was reminded that the expectations we bring into a room--or a relationship--matters immensely. More than one perfectly beneficial experience is ruined because it wasn't the experience I expected to have.
It's impossible to never have expectations. That's not the goal. But it is possible to be aware of our expectations…and alter them if they are messing things up.
Don't expect the doctor to be your friend, too. Just let her or him be your medical expert.
Don't expect the fastest or most talented person on the team be the team leader, too. They may not have that gift.
Don't expect your church to be your sole source of spiritual development. It should be a source, but not the source.
Don't expect your neighbor to be neighborly and help you with your home project. If they do. Fantastic. If not, you shouldn't be mad at them for not meeting your arbitrary expectations.
Don't expect your spouse to meet all of your needs. He/she is your spouse, not your God.
You get the point. You will write better chapters to your story as you understand what is driving the main character's actions.
More next week,
John
"Walk and Munch" destination: Great Harvest
Posted by John Stumbo
| Comments (17)
Thursday, June 3. 2010
PS
In this week's post, I want to add some "postscripts" to various conversations we've been having on this blog lately.
It Happened Again
Thanks for your prayers for strength for the weekend. The wedding went well and it was very enjoyable…even healing…to share my "swallow story" with the home church family. In direct answer to prayer, my voice actually got stronger as the weekend progressed. I felt energized and carried along. Amazing. Chalk it all up as another time that you prayed, God answered and I was helped.
Rain or Shine
The forecast looks hopeful, the Great Harvest crew is braced for us and the "Rejoice with Me: Stumbo Walk and Munch" is a go! I'm looking forward to it. See you at 2:30 on Saturday at the McCall statue at Riverfront. Regardless of the weather, the cookies will be good and the fellowship will be better.
Anticipation
After many months of effort, mainly by our daughter Anna, I will be seeing a doctor at the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale next Tuesday. This will be the first time that the diagnosis of Dermatomyositis will be reviewed and reassessed. I'm very curious and excited to see what I learn from this appointment. Besides, it is always fun to spend time with Jeff and Anna.
The Food Channel
My favorite swallow moments of the week: Joanna's fabulous fruit pizza and a serious cinnamon roll a volunteer baked for the weekend worship team. The caramel cashew sundae ranked pretty high on the list as well. The bottom line though is that I'm pretty happy to swallow about anything…including saliva!
A Jaw Dropping Conversation
My doctor--a great brother who has walked with me professionally and personally through the journey this last 18 months--was at the service Saturday night as I spoke. He approached me afterwards and said, "I never told you this, but I consulted with your ENT doctor (ear, nose, throat) after he examined you. He said that since you hadn't swallowed in over a year that it was very unlikely that you would ever do so. It's a miracle, not medicine."
I thanked him for telling me the story…and for waiting to tell it to me now.
A Sermon Deletion
As I prepared for my message this last weekend, I was thinking about the listeners who might be skeptical. Not everyone easily believes or accepts testimonies of the miraculous. I can tend to be skeptical as well, so I think I understand. Here is a short section that I wrote but didn't have time to use:
I trust that this story will strengthen your faith. However, I understand that not everyone easily believes a story like this. I can't convince you of anything; all I can do is share my story and leave it for you to decide what to do with it. What I know for sure is that I didn't swallow for 18 months and now I do. I believe God did this.
You can come up with some other explanation if you want to. I can't stop you from it. But I'll just tell you that there's an unemployed spit cup in some dumpster in Southern Illinois. There's an empty yogurt container that echo's a testimony to God's power. There's a pile of unused spit rags ready to be thrown away instead of sitting next to a pillow. There's a 49 year old guy who is sleeping like he hasn't slept in 18 months because he's no longer spitting the night through. There's suddenly an additional seven pounds on his skinny frame. And, there is a turkey & cheese sandwich in hand as he prepare these words. You can draw your own conclusion, but I am convinced that God did this.
Joanna's Devotional Thought
It seems like the theme has popped up in numerous places. I know I keep mentioning it when I preach.
We have a part to play in the work of God. He could do everything for us…He certainly doesn't need us. But in His grace, He partners with us. He lets us participate with Him.
Earlier this week, Joanna ran across a verse that I hadn't noticed before which makes the point again. "You can get the horses ready for battle, but it is the Lord who gives the victory" (Prov. 21:31). We have our part to do…get the horses ready; but He is the one who wins the battles for us.
For me in these days the "horse preparation" includes continuing to try to coax my muscles back to health through exercise, working toward completion of my doctoral program and attempting to be proactive in many areas of life. I'm not sure what "horse preparation" you need to do. What I do know is that "waiting on God" is rarely a passive state. It usually includes some involvement on our part. As Isaiah prayed, "Yes, Lord, walking in the way of your laws, we wait for you." In other words, "Doing what I know I'm supposed to do today, I wait for you to do what only you can do; for you are my Lord."
Saddle up those horses and ride with me. The victory is His!
Your fellow traveler,
John
It Happened Again
Thanks for your prayers for strength for the weekend. The wedding went well and it was very enjoyable…even healing…to share my "swallow story" with the home church family. In direct answer to prayer, my voice actually got stronger as the weekend progressed. I felt energized and carried along. Amazing. Chalk it all up as another time that you prayed, God answered and I was helped.
Rain or Shine
The forecast looks hopeful, the Great Harvest crew is braced for us and the "Rejoice with Me: Stumbo Walk and Munch" is a go! I'm looking forward to it. See you at 2:30 on Saturday at the McCall statue at Riverfront. Regardless of the weather, the cookies will be good and the fellowship will be better.
Anticipation
After many months of effort, mainly by our daughter Anna, I will be seeing a doctor at the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale next Tuesday. This will be the first time that the diagnosis of Dermatomyositis will be reviewed and reassessed. I'm very curious and excited to see what I learn from this appointment. Besides, it is always fun to spend time with Jeff and Anna.
The Food Channel
My favorite swallow moments of the week: Joanna's fabulous fruit pizza and a serious cinnamon roll a volunteer baked for the weekend worship team. The caramel cashew sundae ranked pretty high on the list as well. The bottom line though is that I'm pretty happy to swallow about anything…including saliva!
A Jaw Dropping Conversation
My doctor--a great brother who has walked with me professionally and personally through the journey this last 18 months--was at the service Saturday night as I spoke. He approached me afterwards and said, "I never told you this, but I consulted with your ENT doctor (ear, nose, throat) after he examined you. He said that since you hadn't swallowed in over a year that it was very unlikely that you would ever do so. It's a miracle, not medicine."
I thanked him for telling me the story…and for waiting to tell it to me now.
A Sermon Deletion
As I prepared for my message this last weekend, I was thinking about the listeners who might be skeptical. Not everyone easily believes or accepts testimonies of the miraculous. I can tend to be skeptical as well, so I think I understand. Here is a short section that I wrote but didn't have time to use:
I trust that this story will strengthen your faith. However, I understand that not everyone easily believes a story like this. I can't convince you of anything; all I can do is share my story and leave it for you to decide what to do with it. What I know for sure is that I didn't swallow for 18 months and now I do. I believe God did this.
You can come up with some other explanation if you want to. I can't stop you from it. But I'll just tell you that there's an unemployed spit cup in some dumpster in Southern Illinois. There's an empty yogurt container that echo's a testimony to God's power. There's a pile of unused spit rags ready to be thrown away instead of sitting next to a pillow. There's a 49 year old guy who is sleeping like he hasn't slept in 18 months because he's no longer spitting the night through. There's suddenly an additional seven pounds on his skinny frame. And, there is a turkey & cheese sandwich in hand as he prepare these words. You can draw your own conclusion, but I am convinced that God did this.
Joanna's Devotional Thought
It seems like the theme has popped up in numerous places. I know I keep mentioning it when I preach.
We have a part to play in the work of God. He could do everything for us…He certainly doesn't need us. But in His grace, He partners with us. He lets us participate with Him.
Earlier this week, Joanna ran across a verse that I hadn't noticed before which makes the point again. "You can get the horses ready for battle, but it is the Lord who gives the victory" (Prov. 21:31). We have our part to do…get the horses ready; but He is the one who wins the battles for us.
For me in these days the "horse preparation" includes continuing to try to coax my muscles back to health through exercise, working toward completion of my doctoral program and attempting to be proactive in many areas of life. I'm not sure what "horse preparation" you need to do. What I do know is that "waiting on God" is rarely a passive state. It usually includes some involvement on our part. As Isaiah prayed, "Yes, Lord, walking in the way of your laws, we wait for you." In other words, "Doing what I know I'm supposed to do today, I wait for you to do what only you can do; for you are my Lord."
Saddle up those horses and ride with me. The victory is His!
Your fellow traveler,
John
Posted by John Stumbo
| Comments (17)
Thursday, May 27. 2010
May Update Updated
I'm back again with two items of breaking news.
1) It's official. The one and only "Rejoice With Me: Stumbo Walk and Munch" is scheduled for Saturday, June 5 at 2:30. We'll meet at Salem's beautiful Riverfront Park by Governor McCall's statue (he's the big fisherman by the river, close to the parking lot). We'll take the newly re-opened walking bridge and head over to the West Salem Great Harvest. It's only a mile. You can do it. We'll take our time.
The fantastic staff at Great Harvest will have fresh baked chocolate chip cookies and coffee waiting for us. We'll hang out there for a while and walk back to the park. If anyone wants to cheat and get picked up at Great Harvest…or skip the walk altogether and just join us for cookies and coffee…that's cool, too. No rules. Just community.
Joanna and I greatly appreciate how you've "walked" with us in this journey, and at this moment of celebration, we'd like to hang out with you.
Join us--rain or shine--June 5 at 2:30. (3:15 at Great Harvest and back to Riverfront by 4:30.)
2) I've been invited to share the story of my recent healing at the Salem Alliance services this Saturday and Sunday (May 29 & 30). It was very kind of the staff to bump the schedule around so that I could do this. I'll look forward to praising God with you for His kind answers to your prayers.
This would be a great weekend to invite a friend. If you've been waiting for an excuse to invite someone to church, this might be the opportunity you were waiting for. There is something powerful about a story…especially a God-story. Bring a friend along and come hear one.
I also have a wedding this weekend to officiate. My voice has been weak in these days so I'm a little concerned about vocal stamina. I appreciate your prayers!
For His Glory,
John
1) It's official. The one and only "Rejoice With Me: Stumbo Walk and Munch" is scheduled for Saturday, June 5 at 2:30. We'll meet at Salem's beautiful Riverfront Park by Governor McCall's statue (he's the big fisherman by the river, close to the parking lot). We'll take the newly re-opened walking bridge and head over to the West Salem Great Harvest. It's only a mile. You can do it. We'll take our time.
The fantastic staff at Great Harvest will have fresh baked chocolate chip cookies and coffee waiting for us. We'll hang out there for a while and walk back to the park. If anyone wants to cheat and get picked up at Great Harvest…or skip the walk altogether and just join us for cookies and coffee…that's cool, too. No rules. Just community.
Joanna and I greatly appreciate how you've "walked" with us in this journey, and at this moment of celebration, we'd like to hang out with you.
Join us--rain or shine--June 5 at 2:30. (3:15 at Great Harvest and back to Riverfront by 4:30.)
2) I've been invited to share the story of my recent healing at the Salem Alliance services this Saturday and Sunday (May 29 & 30). It was very kind of the staff to bump the schedule around so that I could do this. I'll look forward to praising God with you for His kind answers to your prayers.
This would be a great weekend to invite a friend. If you've been waiting for an excuse to invite someone to church, this might be the opportunity you were waiting for. There is something powerful about a story…especially a God-story. Bring a friend along and come hear one.
I also have a wedding this weekend to officiate. My voice has been weak in these days so I'm a little concerned about vocal stamina. I appreciate your prayers!
For His Glory,
John
Posted by John Stumbo
| Comments (28)
May Update
Hey, Friends. I trust that you are experiencing God's presence…in whatever mysterious form He reveals Himself.
As is my habit, I'm giving you a monthly update as to my health and home life issues. Once again, it is a pleasure to announce to you numerous answers to prayer and evidences of God's kindness to us.
Safely Home
8,750 miles, sixteen states and as many beds, a half dozen churches and half a nation of friends later; we're home. Joanna & I had a great time hitting the road together and accomplished our goals:
Seeing and thanking many people who have prayed for us so faithfully.
Breathing some different air for a few weeks.
Celebrating Josiah's college graduation…with honors.
Enjoying time with family we don't get to be with often enough.
Seeing bears at Yellowstone.
Little did we know that we'd have the added surprise of the swallow miracle. I sipped on shakes across half the continent. Praise God!
Medical News
I'm grateful to be continuing the gradual progress back to health. I'm walking stronger, feeling better and steadily swallowing at least 1/4th of my daily needs. God continues to answer your prayers.
I'm also grateful for two medical events happening in early June. I have been approved for another IVIG treatment--the three day event of getting a slow drip of the best of peoples' blood. Next, after months of effort (mainly by my daughter) I get to see a specialist at the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale. He has reviewed my files and has requested my biopsy slides/reports. I'll be fascinated to hear what he has to say.
I joked with some people recently, "You'd be grumpy, too, if you hadn't eaten since the Bush Administration." As thrilled as I am to be eating again, in an odd way I have to admit that of at least equally great pleasure and relief has been the fact that I no longer must spend my days and nights spitting. My sleep is better (much better!), my digestion is healthier, my behavior is less embarrassing and the sidewalks are cleaner. I'm the happiest swallower you ever met.
Speaking of swallowing, I know that there are curious minds out there who desire to know. My current food groups are 1) the "soft and creamy" family, 2) the "soft and not too juicy" family, and 3) the "soft and pasty" family. "Soft and creamy" includes shakes, ice cream sundaes, cheesecake, fudge and my sister's "salad" that primarily consists of cream cheese, sugar, pudding, whipping cream and other forms of smooth decadence. This is a happy food group with which everyone should be acquainted. The "soft and not too juicy" family includes potatoes, french fries, some breads, deli meat and cheese. The "soft and pasty" family is primarily the world of nuts--cashews, pecans, etc. When chewed, they turn into a paste that goes down pretty well. Meanwhile, the church staff welcomed me back to the office this week with a "food shower" of sorts, so I'm about to re-enter whatever food group in which you place Ho-Ho's and Ding-Dongs. Thanks, team!
Two Announcements
My schedule and stamina are now such that I have begun accepting invitations to speak at churches, schools and events. I'm finding this very fulfilling. Feel free to let the word out that I'm "back" and eager to share as God opens the door.
For those in the Salem area, I'd like to invite you to the first and probably only Stumbo Invitational Walk and Munch. The TENTATIVE plan is to meet at Gov. McCall's statue at Riverfront Park in Salem at 2:30 on Saturday, June 5. Together, we'll walk the mile across the newly re-opened Salem walking bridge to the little picnic table area by West Salem Great Harvest Bread. There we'll munch and sip together a bit before we head back for the last half of our walk. I know this kind of event isn't for everyone, but it is wheelchair accessible and I don't walk very fast. I'll finalize this information next week, so stay posted. The bottom line: I'm looking for an excuse to celebrate with you. Sound fun?
Well, I'd better quit with that. Talk to you again next week,
John
As is my habit, I'm giving you a monthly update as to my health and home life issues. Once again, it is a pleasure to announce to you numerous answers to prayer and evidences of God's kindness to us.
Safely Home
8,750 miles, sixteen states and as many beds, a half dozen churches and half a nation of friends later; we're home. Joanna & I had a great time hitting the road together and accomplished our goals:
Seeing and thanking many people who have prayed for us so faithfully.
Breathing some different air for a few weeks.
Celebrating Josiah's college graduation…with honors.
Enjoying time with family we don't get to be with often enough.
Seeing bears at Yellowstone.
Little did we know that we'd have the added surprise of the swallow miracle. I sipped on shakes across half the continent. Praise God!
Medical News
I'm grateful to be continuing the gradual progress back to health. I'm walking stronger, feeling better and steadily swallowing at least 1/4th of my daily needs. God continues to answer your prayers.
I'm also grateful for two medical events happening in early June. I have been approved for another IVIG treatment--the three day event of getting a slow drip of the best of peoples' blood. Next, after months of effort (mainly by my daughter) I get to see a specialist at the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale. He has reviewed my files and has requested my biopsy slides/reports. I'll be fascinated to hear what he has to say.
I joked with some people recently, "You'd be grumpy, too, if you hadn't eaten since the Bush Administration." As thrilled as I am to be eating again, in an odd way I have to admit that of at least equally great pleasure and relief has been the fact that I no longer must spend my days and nights spitting. My sleep is better (much better!), my digestion is healthier, my behavior is less embarrassing and the sidewalks are cleaner. I'm the happiest swallower you ever met.
Speaking of swallowing, I know that there are curious minds out there who desire to know. My current food groups are 1) the "soft and creamy" family, 2) the "soft and not too juicy" family, and 3) the "soft and pasty" family. "Soft and creamy" includes shakes, ice cream sundaes, cheesecake, fudge and my sister's "salad" that primarily consists of cream cheese, sugar, pudding, whipping cream and other forms of smooth decadence. This is a happy food group with which everyone should be acquainted. The "soft and not too juicy" family includes potatoes, french fries, some breads, deli meat and cheese. The "soft and pasty" family is primarily the world of nuts--cashews, pecans, etc. When chewed, they turn into a paste that goes down pretty well. Meanwhile, the church staff welcomed me back to the office this week with a "food shower" of sorts, so I'm about to re-enter whatever food group in which you place Ho-Ho's and Ding-Dongs. Thanks, team!
Two Announcements
My schedule and stamina are now such that I have begun accepting invitations to speak at churches, schools and events. I'm finding this very fulfilling. Feel free to let the word out that I'm "back" and eager to share as God opens the door.
For those in the Salem area, I'd like to invite you to the first and probably only Stumbo Invitational Walk and Munch. The TENTATIVE plan is to meet at Gov. McCall's statue at Riverfront Park in Salem at 2:30 on Saturday, June 5. Together, we'll walk the mile across the newly re-opened Salem walking bridge to the little picnic table area by West Salem Great Harvest Bread. There we'll munch and sip together a bit before we head back for the last half of our walk. I know this kind of event isn't for everyone, but it is wheelchair accessible and I don't walk very fast. I'll finalize this information next week, so stay posted. The bottom line: I'm looking for an excuse to celebrate with you. Sound fun?
Well, I'd better quit with that. Talk to you again next week,
John
Posted by John Stumbo
| Comments (9)
Thursday, May 20. 2010
Test Taking Hints
We’ve celebrated our son’s college graduation and are heading back to Oregon. The many miles have given me lots of time to munch. Priase God, the swallowing continues to very gradually strengthen. Yesterday I surpassed 1,000 calories for the first time…thanks to the invention of chocolate milk and my sister’s fabulous cheesecake.
I’ll update you more on our world in the next week or two, but for today I want to reflect on some of my traveling meditations.
Don’t be surprised by the many trials you are facing, the New Testament authors advise us. Tests are an expected part of our journey. No one is immune. There was only one “get out of jail free” card and Adam lost it in the garden. This you already know. But you may not have thought through some of the following. I pray it comes as an encouragement.
Hints for Taking Life’s Tests
#1 Every test is an open book test. It didn’t happen very often when I was in school, but I always loved it when my teacher or professor announced that we could use our notes or text book in taking the test. Good news: God has given us the finest resource—the Bible—and welcomes us to keep it wide open during our trials. Joanna and I have always been students of the Word, but in this era of testing, our commitment to turn to the Word every day has only increased. This has been a key to our emotional, spiritual and relational health during this hardship. If you are in a trial, stubbornly resist the temptation to withdraw from the Word. This WILL be a temptation for you. There were months in this journey that my Bible reading time was 100% determination and 0% inspiration. I’ve referred to that era of Bible reading as feeling like “sandpaper” to my soul. Yet, Joanna and I persisted and testify that we are the better for it. Keep the Book open. Feed your weary soul. Seek your Father’s heart.
#2 Every test is a group project. On a rare occasion, my teacher or professor would announce that the project or exam was going to be done in a group context. I didn’t always appreciate this. I liked to work at my own pace and do my own thing. I can be a bit of a “loner.” However, in the tests of life, God never intends for us to bear them completely alone. He’s placed us in a family with brothers and sisters for a reason. To be sure, some of those family members will disappoint us in our time of trial; forgive them knowing we have done the same thing to others. Resist the temptation to isolate. Determine that you won’t wallow in your private pool of self-pity. Keep opening your heart to others who in a direct or indirect way will walk with you through this trial.
#3 Every test is a personal encounter with the Instructor Himself. If I am able to finish my doctoral program, I will have to give an oral defense of my work. This will be a “test” unlike any I’ve had in my academic past. However, I look forward to it because it will be a personal encounter—a dialogue—with people I’ve come to respect. In a much more significant and personal way, every test we face can be a personal encounter with God the Father, Son and Spirit. Our mysterious God reveals more of Himself to us through trials than in any other way I know. You don’t have to like your personal test, but you will have less angst and more hope it you see the test as an opportunity to enter into new dialogue and deeper relationship with God.
#4 Every test elicits something deeper from within us. In our school days, exams drew out of us knowledge that we had acquired. Often we didn’t realize we had learned something until we were tested on. Of course, the opposite was also true: we didn’t know how little we knew until we were tested on it. I want to encourage you today that in your “life-test,” you are not being graded so much as you are being guided. The Guide, our kind God, wants to use the test to draw deeper things out of us…to carve deeper furrows into our shallow hearts so that roots of truth can reach further into our being. I think this is part of what A. B. Simpson (founder of the Christian & Missionary Alliance) was suggesting in the following:
Pressed out of measure and pressed to all length;
Pressed so intensely it seems, beyond strength;
Pressed in the body and pressed in the soul,
Pressed in the mind till the dark surges roll.
Pressure by foes, and a pressure from friends.
Pressure on pressure, till life nearly ends.
Pressed into knowing no helper but God;
Pressed into loving the staff and the rod.
Pressed into liberty where nothing clings;
Pressed into faith for impossible things.
Pressed into living a life in the Lord,
Pressed into living a Christ-life outpoured.
Traveling with you,
John
"I was crushed…so much that I despaired even of life,
but that was to make me rely not on myself,
but on the God who raises the dead."
II Cor. 1:8-9
I’ll update you more on our world in the next week or two, but for today I want to reflect on some of my traveling meditations.
Don’t be surprised by the many trials you are facing, the New Testament authors advise us. Tests are an expected part of our journey. No one is immune. There was only one “get out of jail free” card and Adam lost it in the garden. This you already know. But you may not have thought through some of the following. I pray it comes as an encouragement.
Hints for Taking Life’s Tests
#1 Every test is an open book test. It didn’t happen very often when I was in school, but I always loved it when my teacher or professor announced that we could use our notes or text book in taking the test. Good news: God has given us the finest resource—the Bible—and welcomes us to keep it wide open during our trials. Joanna and I have always been students of the Word, but in this era of testing, our commitment to turn to the Word every day has only increased. This has been a key to our emotional, spiritual and relational health during this hardship. If you are in a trial, stubbornly resist the temptation to withdraw from the Word. This WILL be a temptation for you. There were months in this journey that my Bible reading time was 100% determination and 0% inspiration. I’ve referred to that era of Bible reading as feeling like “sandpaper” to my soul. Yet, Joanna and I persisted and testify that we are the better for it. Keep the Book open. Feed your weary soul. Seek your Father’s heart.
#2 Every test is a group project. On a rare occasion, my teacher or professor would announce that the project or exam was going to be done in a group context. I didn’t always appreciate this. I liked to work at my own pace and do my own thing. I can be a bit of a “loner.” However, in the tests of life, God never intends for us to bear them completely alone. He’s placed us in a family with brothers and sisters for a reason. To be sure, some of those family members will disappoint us in our time of trial; forgive them knowing we have done the same thing to others. Resist the temptation to isolate. Determine that you won’t wallow in your private pool of self-pity. Keep opening your heart to others who in a direct or indirect way will walk with you through this trial.
#3 Every test is a personal encounter with the Instructor Himself. If I am able to finish my doctoral program, I will have to give an oral defense of my work. This will be a “test” unlike any I’ve had in my academic past. However, I look forward to it because it will be a personal encounter—a dialogue—with people I’ve come to respect. In a much more significant and personal way, every test we face can be a personal encounter with God the Father, Son and Spirit. Our mysterious God reveals more of Himself to us through trials than in any other way I know. You don’t have to like your personal test, but you will have less angst and more hope it you see the test as an opportunity to enter into new dialogue and deeper relationship with God.
#4 Every test elicits something deeper from within us. In our school days, exams drew out of us knowledge that we had acquired. Often we didn’t realize we had learned something until we were tested on. Of course, the opposite was also true: we didn’t know how little we knew until we were tested on it. I want to encourage you today that in your “life-test,” you are not being graded so much as you are being guided. The Guide, our kind God, wants to use the test to draw deeper things out of us…to carve deeper furrows into our shallow hearts so that roots of truth can reach further into our being. I think this is part of what A. B. Simpson (founder of the Christian & Missionary Alliance) was suggesting in the following:
Pressed out of measure and pressed to all length;
Pressed so intensely it seems, beyond strength;
Pressed in the body and pressed in the soul,
Pressed in the mind till the dark surges roll.
Pressure by foes, and a pressure from friends.
Pressure on pressure, till life nearly ends.
Pressed into knowing no helper but God;
Pressed into loving the staff and the rod.
Pressed into liberty where nothing clings;
Pressed into faith for impossible things.
Pressed into living a life in the Lord,
Pressed into living a Christ-life outpoured.
Traveling with you,
John
"I was crushed…so much that I despaired even of life,
but that was to make me rely not on myself,
but on the God who raises the dead."
II Cor. 1:8-9
Posted by John Stumbo
| Comments (15)
Friday, May 14. 2010
Rejoice With Me: Conclusion (At Least For Now)
It's been a little over two weeks since the miracle on I-64 occurred. My joy has been doubled by hearing of your joy. Thanks for celebrating with us. It's fun to picture the scenes you've described from Austin, Texas to Arlington, Washington…from the Black Forest of Germany to the deserts of Morocco. God is being praised, and that makes me happy.
Baby Steps, Baby Bites
I wish I could say that I am freely eating anything in sight, but the fact of the matter is that those little swallow muscles had been dormant for 18 months and I must still be careful about what I attempt to consume. At least once a meal, getting a little greedy, I take too big of a bite and break into a coughing fit.
If you can picture the size of a bite of baby food that you'd give to a little tike, and then cut it in half, you can picture the size of bites that are best for me to take. As a result, I'm still relying--depending on the day--60 to 90% on my feeding tube, but I'm making progress. While I'm still a long way from taking on a buffet, my nibbling and sipping are gradually getting stronger.
It Doesn't Take Much
Picture this scene: I'm seated in a fast food place with my family. Various assortments of burgers and fries fill the table. Pleasant conversation and laughter flows as freely as the iced tea. I'm eating with them, albeit only one french fry, one nibble of Joanna's sandwich, a sip of her tea and a couple bites of ice cream. A part of me wishes I could just be normal and eat freely like they do…but the fact that I can do something--that I can nibble and sip--makes all the difference. The pain of isolation is gone. The sting of feeling so left out is over. I feel a part again.
Another example: A year ago I was so weak, I was unable to do any household chores except pay the bills…a laborious task on multiple dimensions. But this chore I had always done in our marriage, and I had found nothing to alleviate all the extra work I had caused Joanna. Then I got an idea: I could empty the silverware basket after the dishwasher was finished. This attempt to help Joanna probably only saved her 90 seconds, but it was something I could do. I now was making a contribution…miniscule though it was…and felt encouraged by it.
I think there is something to be learned here that should be applied more broadly. Whether it is a child on a playground, a member of a church, a volunteer in an organization or a guy sitting at a fast food table--a little involvement goes a long way. Too often people are left out entirely because their contribution is considered small. As one who has just moved from the awkward place of watching while others eat, to joining them--albeit in a very small way--I testify that there is a massive difference. Finding even small ways for people to participate can bring more blessing to their lives than you would anticipate. To be included--to belong--is the longing of every heart. Countless people will never be the "lead actor", but if they can have a "bit part", they will experience the pleasure of the whole production.
Running in the Dark
Repeatedly this past year, my caregiver and counselor--Joanna--has talked to me about the life of Joseph from the account in Genesis. Sold by his brothers, hauled away as a slave, falsely accused and then literally forgotten in an Egyptian prison, Joseph had no way of knowing when or even if his trial would end. The dreams he once experienced now mocked him. The life he once enjoyed was now just a distant memory. Month after month he faithfully obeyed God in a forgotten state. Had he known that in just weeks or days his trial would end, it certainly would have been easier to endure. Had he known he only had a mile to go on this grueling marathon, it would have been easier to persevere. But his trial had no mile markers. God Himself had marked off the finish line; but God alone knew where it was.
Joseph didn't have any more reason to hope the day before he got released than he had his entire imprisonment. There was an end to his tunnel, but it was hidden by a sharp bend--a sudden turn of circumstances which he had no way to see.
I am impacted by the fact that Joseph stayed faithful to God during the dark days. His character was tested by trial. His faith was stretched to painful lengths. Each new day looked as bleak as the last.
Yet, suddenly--without warning--it was over. The trail of trial abruptly ended. Certainly there would be other lessons to be learned--other tests to follow--but this long, grueling journey ended never to begin again. I love the picture that when the news of deliverance comes, he is just one shave away from being ready to stand in the pharaoh's presence.
Through the year and a half of being unable to swallow, I took heart from my "coach's" insights. I knew her observations were correct. I related completely to the "tunnel blindness" of Joseph's story. On April 26, the day before my healing, my trial didn't look any brighter than it had any other day. In fact, on the day of healing, my morning began with no greater sense of hope or expectancy than any other morning. Like Joseph, I had no way of seeing my deliverance coming.
But suddenly it happened. I rounded the last curve and unexpectedly found myself in daylight--blinded and confused--but out of the tunnel. I'll probably have many more "tunnel marathons" to run in life. Hopefully this will be one of my worst, but it likely won't be my last. I'll run in the dark more effectively if I am confident that God knows where the finish line is…and leave that detail to Him.
I pray that those of you who are still running in the tunnel will find encouragement from these words today.
Your Fellow Traveler,
John
Baby Steps, Baby Bites
I wish I could say that I am freely eating anything in sight, but the fact of the matter is that those little swallow muscles had been dormant for 18 months and I must still be careful about what I attempt to consume. At least once a meal, getting a little greedy, I take too big of a bite and break into a coughing fit.
If you can picture the size of a bite of baby food that you'd give to a little tike, and then cut it in half, you can picture the size of bites that are best for me to take. As a result, I'm still relying--depending on the day--60 to 90% on my feeding tube, but I'm making progress. While I'm still a long way from taking on a buffet, my nibbling and sipping are gradually getting stronger.
It Doesn't Take Much
Picture this scene: I'm seated in a fast food place with my family. Various assortments of burgers and fries fill the table. Pleasant conversation and laughter flows as freely as the iced tea. I'm eating with them, albeit only one french fry, one nibble of Joanna's sandwich, a sip of her tea and a couple bites of ice cream. A part of me wishes I could just be normal and eat freely like they do…but the fact that I can do something--that I can nibble and sip--makes all the difference. The pain of isolation is gone. The sting of feeling so left out is over. I feel a part again.
Another example: A year ago I was so weak, I was unable to do any household chores except pay the bills…a laborious task on multiple dimensions. But this chore I had always done in our marriage, and I had found nothing to alleviate all the extra work I had caused Joanna. Then I got an idea: I could empty the silverware basket after the dishwasher was finished. This attempt to help Joanna probably only saved her 90 seconds, but it was something I could do. I now was making a contribution…miniscule though it was…and felt encouraged by it.
I think there is something to be learned here that should be applied more broadly. Whether it is a child on a playground, a member of a church, a volunteer in an organization or a guy sitting at a fast food table--a little involvement goes a long way. Too often people are left out entirely because their contribution is considered small. As one who has just moved from the awkward place of watching while others eat, to joining them--albeit in a very small way--I testify that there is a massive difference. Finding even small ways for people to participate can bring more blessing to their lives than you would anticipate. To be included--to belong--is the longing of every heart. Countless people will never be the "lead actor", but if they can have a "bit part", they will experience the pleasure of the whole production.
Running in the Dark
Repeatedly this past year, my caregiver and counselor--Joanna--has talked to me about the life of Joseph from the account in Genesis. Sold by his brothers, hauled away as a slave, falsely accused and then literally forgotten in an Egyptian prison, Joseph had no way of knowing when or even if his trial would end. The dreams he once experienced now mocked him. The life he once enjoyed was now just a distant memory. Month after month he faithfully obeyed God in a forgotten state. Had he known that in just weeks or days his trial would end, it certainly would have been easier to endure. Had he known he only had a mile to go on this grueling marathon, it would have been easier to persevere. But his trial had no mile markers. God Himself had marked off the finish line; but God alone knew where it was.
Joseph didn't have any more reason to hope the day before he got released than he had his entire imprisonment. There was an end to his tunnel, but it was hidden by a sharp bend--a sudden turn of circumstances which he had no way to see.
I am impacted by the fact that Joseph stayed faithful to God during the dark days. His character was tested by trial. His faith was stretched to painful lengths. Each new day looked as bleak as the last.
Yet, suddenly--without warning--it was over. The trail of trial abruptly ended. Certainly there would be other lessons to be learned--other tests to follow--but this long, grueling journey ended never to begin again. I love the picture that when the news of deliverance comes, he is just one shave away from being ready to stand in the pharaoh's presence.
Through the year and a half of being unable to swallow, I took heart from my "coach's" insights. I knew her observations were correct. I related completely to the "tunnel blindness" of Joseph's story. On April 26, the day before my healing, my trial didn't look any brighter than it had any other day. In fact, on the day of healing, my morning began with no greater sense of hope or expectancy than any other morning. Like Joseph, I had no way of seeing my deliverance coming.
But suddenly it happened. I rounded the last curve and unexpectedly found myself in daylight--blinded and confused--but out of the tunnel. I'll probably have many more "tunnel marathons" to run in life. Hopefully this will be one of my worst, but it likely won't be my last. I'll run in the dark more effectively if I am confident that God knows where the finish line is…and leave that detail to Him.
I pray that those of you who are still running in the tunnel will find encouragement from these words today.
Your Fellow Traveler,
John
Posted by John Stumbo
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