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