Rough beginning of When Life Shakes You Up - Feedback/Criticism ?

Chapter One - Face the Facts

Some of this is cut and paste from previous writings ... needs editing

God speaks to Joshua and he doesn’t pull any punches. Moses is Dead … talk about blunt ! We don't like the bad news. Maybe you have noticed - bad news does not send an engraved invitation. Bad news comes suddenly - unexpectedly. When life shakes you up it slaps you in the face and it's the last thing you expect. .

God speaks to Joshua. Moses is dead - now it’s your turn. Think about it. Moses was one of the big guys. God had spoken to Moses in person on the top of Mount Sinai. Joshua had watched as Moses hand delivered the 10 commandments, still smoking from the hand of God. He had watched Moses deal with all the annoying whining grumbling people as he paid the price for being their leader. He watched Moses stretch his rod out and part Red Sea. It was Cecil B. Demille, in real technicolor and real life. Joshua had big shoes, rather sandals, to fill. Joshua was in over his head.

Face the Facts: Bad news is bad news …

We don’t like the news that shatters our plans and dashes our dreams. I did not like hearing I had an incurable disease. Immediately, I wanted a second opinion. There must be some mistake. Shortly after diagnosis, I was gathering information, searching online, educating myself on what I was facing. I received a large manila envelope from one of the PD research/support groups. It was stuffed full of more information than I ever wanted or needed.

The first thing to fall out of the envelope was a royal blue business sized card with bright yellow letters – with the words I AM NOT RETARDED emblazoned on the front. The back of the card explained that the carrier of the card was not retarded but rather had Parkinson’s Disease. I could use this card to let people know that I may have trouble with my words but be patient it just takes me longer. So the good news is that I am not retarded - the not so good news is I just look and act retarded. I had to face it. I had/have an incurable disease. I didn’t like it ...I don't like it … it was/is not good news.

There were frightening financial realities to face. We had a plan for getting the kids through college and preparing for retirement. Over the years, my wife Brenda has worked as a home care nurse providing care especially for pediatric cases. She is amazingly gifted as a care giver and considers it a ministry. She loves “her children” as her own. I would continue as a full time pastor and as soon as our nest was empty or maybe even during the last few high school years, she (my wife? Brenda?) would work full time. This would help the kids through school and invest in retirement so we could buy a house and settle in hopefully near family and grand children.

The problem was that God did not check in with my broker. Possibly because he knew I didn’t have a broker but he didn’t even give me any notice. Our plan was clearly a good plan. It was almost like God didn’t get it. After all we had “sacrificed” to live in a church owned parsonage our whole life. (I wish I could write another book about the blessings of raising kids in a parsonage … yes you heard/read me right!) Hadn’t we given our over 20% of our income to God’s work in the church, missions, and various building projects and special needs. We kind of deserved at least a say in the deal.


Lest you think that “facing the facts” is a formula for feeling groovy in five easy steps, when life sucks … this was certainly not my experience. Facing the facts, the hard realities of life, is a decision but also an arduous never ending process. The salesman with the bad breath, this courier of bad news: whom I will introduce shortly, was banging on the front door … and I was not about to answer.

Michael J. Fox’s books, “Lucky Man” and “The Diary of an Incurable Optimist” have been an invaluable help in writing this book. Upon being diagnosed with PD the neurologist told him he had at least ten good years of production before he would need to step back and retire. I was 49 years old and kind of accepted the ten more years of production thing, in an “I’ll deal with all that 10 years from now” sort of way. I was not about to consider that in two years, the lay leadership would be doing most of my work in the church and that in four years I would be on disability.

In retrospect, I had been slowing down for a number of years. Weekly sermons which typically involved six to eight hours of preparation, now took 12 – 20 hours. My meetings with the 10 lay pastors, who provide practical care within the congregation, would normally meet every 6 weeks. These meetings were happening perhaps twice a year. For many years I had prepared a daily devotional follow up to the weekly sermon, hoping I guess that if my people had no idea what I was saying … maybe it would make more sense in print. Somehow I just didn’t seem to be able to continue that on a weekly basis. There were times I was plagued with guilt because I was just too exhausted to visit a parishioner in the hospital. I needed to face up to the reality that I needed help.

Letting go of that which I loved so much … allowing others to fill in and make up for my deficiency was heart wrenching. So many people were so responsive to the ministry needs of the church. The church where I served as pastor for 14 years was planning an $1,000,000 expansion. During the two years before my retirement (resignation?), the building committee met without me. Nominations, elections, finances, Christian education … most of the functions of the church were cared for by volunteers with my two secretaries basically acting as a pastor in planning and facilitating the activities of the church.

My effectiveness as a pastor and leader were clearly diminished. The good news was that I had a great excuse for my work, which was from my perspective was far below my personal standards. I will deal with the blessing/curse of an excuse more fully in Chapter Three - Count Your Blessings under … “it’s not all bad” . The bad news was/is that my excuse was an incurable disease.

I didn’t like it … and it sounds like it in a journal entry late one night:

I don't want to be like this the rest of my life. I don't want my wife to have to live with this stinking blank stare spaced out look. I don't want people calling the house wondering if I'm able to answer the phone. I want to visit all day Saturday. I want to go early to church, talk to people come preach two services and talk to some more people. I want to be part of realizing that we messed up the building program and there's a much better way to do it. I don't want to keep telling people that I am too impaired to do their weddings, dedications, and if they die they need to make other arrangements. I want to keep harassing with District licensed ministers on the credentials board. I'm not the sure if I like seeing them squirm or and deeply concerned about the leadership of the church. Probably both. I want to stay out late with some with nutty people without feeling that will be a wreck on Sunday because of it.
I am so tired stupid voice software won't work. I don't want to be someone different... I want to be myself. It is that too much to ask?
No

This is what happens when my mind goes hyper. My mind has just jumped in the last one or two minutes from going to Sam’s, going to the bank, going to the driving range, going fishing, going to the wake, talking to Louise, working on Colossians, working on the cycle of victorious living diagram, meeting with Gary, going swimming, working out, taking the digital recorder back, fixing supper. What do I do to short-circuit my head from this mind blitz?

This is not like me. It is why I feel lonely or mixed up sometimes. I keep missing myself... but I am really still there. When I’m writing... that’s the real me. When I’m goofing off ... that’s the real me. When I cried... I guess that was the real me... just didn’t know it. When I preach... it’s not a persona... it’s the real me (but God’s words). So when I miss myself I just need to remember I’m still there... for the most part I’m still pretty visible. When I am trying to help people... it’s the real me... but only when I’m not trying to fix the whole world. When I am walking in puddles with Andrew... there I am... and I think it is a real Andrew as well. When hugging my wife, marveling at Jonathan’s talent or admiring Christina as a gift from God ... I am most myself. When I ask for help from friends... sometimes too often... I hope it’s the real me, not manipulating, not overly dependent... hoping to be a help to them as well.

Anyway this whole weird situation is interesting, exciting, hopeful, terrible, strange and the working of God continues in and through the whole thing.

Many who read this book (excuse the delusions of an un-published wanna-be author) will have stories of parental abuse as a child, the lingering pain as an adult victim of divorce, teachers who are not fair, an employer who has thrown them away like a used rag, friends who destroyed their reputation, a pastor who betrayed their confidence, a diagnosis that is overwhelming. None of this is good news. The fact remains … and I seldom if ever use this word but … duh … bad news is bad.


Denial is not Faith

The first response when life shakes you up is – face the facts. Don’t deny reality. Denial is not a response of faith. Faith is not wishful thinking but rather a foundation upon which you can base your response to the crises of life. Christians have been accused of hiding their heads in the sand. In no way is Christian faith some sort of spiritualized denial mechanism.

You might say that faith is a crutch for there are times of weakness when we really need the love of God and care of his people. We need to lean hard upon that which is solid and dependable. But again, faith does not entails pretending that the crisis does not exist. Examples of people who are always fantastic ?

Denial tends to be sub conscious, an involuntary response. The premise of this book is that the response to crises can be on purpose rather than involuntary. Denial takes several forms.

Initial Denial

There are times when the news is so bad that denial is necessary as a first step in coping with unthinkable bad news. My son Ryan as a sophomore in high school had been having headaches and dizzy spells at school. We took him to the doctor who immediately ordered an MRI. It was on a Friday afternoon that my wife walked through the back door of our home (the parsonage?) with an MRI film. She was white as a sheet and nearly paralyzed with fear. The MRI revealed a large white mass the size of a softball on the right frontal lobe of his brain. We took him to the emergency room and after waiting five hours the neurologist on call said he was busy and would see him in five days.

We were frightened. We knew it was serious. But in spite of what we “knew” … he still went to the New York Mets games the next day at Shea Stadium. How stupid could we be? The facts were so overwhelming that we were unable to act as though we believed it. I had been diagnosed with PD a few months earlier, there was conflict and criticism in the church concerning a building project, we could not assimilate a brain tumor on top of everything else. He even went to school on Monday morning.

The good news is that I took the MRI to Columbia Presbyterian Hospital and my neurologists in the Movement Disorder Center dropped everything to call Sloane Kettering on the other side of Manhattan. Making like a New York cab driver I madly transported the MRI across town. The surgeon said get him down here immediately. By that afternoon my son was in intensive care at Cornell-Weir Hospital for Special Surgery. On Thursday, Dr. Souedane a world class pediatric surgeon performed the operation. The tumor was fully removed, unattached to the brain, and totally benign with no trace of cancer. We are so thankful for the doctors, surgeons and staff of these amazing medical centers.
Ryan missed his last two years of high school basketball but was able to play two years of college ball. It was a gift from God and he is now a social worker in Boston with plans for seminary in the near future.

The first natural response to trauma is denial. In an interesting way it is the first step in facing the facts. It is that time in which the facts are “known” but we act as though they are not real. In this sense, initial denial is a helpful tool as a step toward facing reality.

Denial becomes a negative response when it continues beyond the initial state of shock. There is a type of pseudo-Christian response which ignores the seriousness of bad news and tragic circumstances. The attitude is God is still on the throne and everything is going to be OK. Ultimately everything will be OK for the Christian. Later I will introduce you to an important tenet of the faith, “Cheer Up … someday you’re gonna die”. By faith we believe in eternal life.

The reality of heaven does not, however, guarantee that I will be healed of my disease in this life. I will attempt to leave you puzzling over the whys and wherefores of healing/non-healing in a page or two. Jesus does not teach that the life of a disciple is a life without suffering, pain, disease, and persecution. Living by faith is not denying the suffering but rather living out the life of hope and faith even if the suffering is not miraculously removed.

Any denial of the difficult realities of life is a denial of the adequacy of Christ in whom we place our faith. Jesus is the cornerstone of our faith. He did not come to live among us, so that we could escape real life. He came; calling us as His followers to get all wrapped up in realities of a world full of sin, oppression, and injustice... seeking to save those who are lost.

When you lose your job... face the facts. When you are stricken with illness don't act as though it doesn't exist. When you fail... Afess@ up... face the music... suffer the embarrassment. When you sin, don't pretend it's a mistake, confess the sin. There's no way to deal with the things that shake your life until you look them straight in the eye. (pink slips, diagnoses, rejection, and other trials certainly must have eyes ... They find us so readily)

There are other less than positive responses to the trials of life.

Bitterness

Blame

Pity I am entitled

Why Doesn’t God Heal Me?

What About Providence?