Today's Prayer - At a Loss for Words

Dear God-

Some days I come to you and know exactly what I’m asking for.  Today is not one of those days.

For 11 ½ years I have prayed that you would heal my wife from cancer.  I rejoiced with you when the treatments worked well and she felt good.  I lamented when the cancer grew and she felt lousy.   Her health always hit the top of my prayer list.

Now, over a month into hospice, I don’t have any idea what to pray for anymore.  

A part of me wants as much time with her as I can get.  We’ve had the blessing of some wonderful time together in these past weeks.  We’ve been able to plan the funeral, write the obituary, and think together about what life will be like for me after she is gone.  It’s been a blessing and I thank you for that.  A part of me prays for more days…more conversations…more love.

But another part of me struggles to see her body wasting away.  Eating is nearly impossible.  She can barely even drink without throwing up even though she’s incredibly thirsty.  She has lost so much weight that she is down to skin and bones.  The pain is growing again so we’re increasing the medications to take care of it.  She sleeps most of the time.  God, it’s hard to watch someone you love struggle so much.  Last Sunday in worship there was a focus on lamenting and we had the opportunity to write prayers on the wall.  I found myself writing, “Come sweet death.”  

See what I mean?  These requests don’t fit together.  I want Shannon to be at peace.  I want all this suffering to end.   I want to have as many days with her as I can.  

So this morning I come in prayer, not knowing what to say.  I guess it’s not a day to ask for anything.    For today, these verses from Romans 8 will have to suffice:

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.

Holy Spirit, intercede for me today.  I’m at a loss.

Pete

Letter to God - A Morning of Hope

Dear God -

This morning I woke up with a strong sense of peace.  I can't explain it.  My wife has a short time
(days...weeks) to live.  The cancer ravages her body and she has barely eaten in days.  I watch her grow weak before my eyes.  Yet, strangely, this morning I have words of praise on my lips.

A week ago Shannon was in the hospital and I thought the end had come near.  She was in extreme pain and couldn't keep anything down.  They drugged her up to get it all under control which made her pretty loopy.  I wondered if I would ever have a normal conversation with her again.  I had to tell the doctors to give her a 'Do Not Resuscitate' arm band.  My soul ached.

But then things improved.  They got the medications under control.  She started thinking clearly.  We've able to talk and make plans.  We're getting details for the funeral pinned down and her obituary written.  She has chosen the clothes she wants to have on in the casket.  This morning she excitedly peeled the garlic for some salsa I'm making.

Yesterday we went to Rochester so she could see Good Shepherd Lutheran, the church where the funeral will be held (we are members at People of Hope which is nowhere near large enough to hold her funeral).  Shannon had never seen the church before and she was pleased with what she saw.  We then went to the funeral home so she could see the chapel where the visitation will be held and she marveled at the stained glass windows.  I assumed these would be highly emotionally charged things.  They were not.

I'm trying to figure this out.  I've had many times where the tears flowed, but for now life seems good.  Shannon is still feisty but knows that her days are short.  We're taking each of them as a gift.

I suppose the initial shock of hearing 'Your wife has a short time to live' has worn off.  We're living in the daily reality of her mortality.  What had seemed overwhelming now seems normal.

Yesterday someone dropped off some cleaning supplies with a note that included this verse from Romans 8:
If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we die, we die for the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord.

 God, I know that much grief lies ahead, but for now I'll just revel in that promise.  Whether Shannon lives or dies, she is the Yours.  I am Yours.  Ben is Yours.  Thank you for the peace and hope.

Another Letter to God - A Little Hope

Good morning, God,

It’s me again.  Remember me?

This morning I did something that seemed quite normal.  I woke up, opened my book of daily Bible readings, and reflected on a few verses.  As I’ve done most of this year, I looked for some words that stood out (today it was ‘set you free’ from Romans 8:1-5).  My aim has been to have these words percolate throughout the day.  In some ways, just another morning devotion.  I muttered a few words of prayer.  A little time spent with you.  Not that amazing, really.

The bookmark in the book opened to September 11^th, a day that for me will always be ‘ the day my wife Shannon was told she didn’t have long to live.’  Since that day I’ve had little interest in sitting with you for a morning devotion.  I have known that you remained by my side but I haven’t felt like engaging in a conversation.  I’ve attended worship but have felt like I was just going through the motions. 

God, I admit that the last two weeks have very self-focused.  I’m wrapped up in caring for Shannon, a task which I do with relish.  She’s a wonderful woman and I have nothing else I’d rather do, but being in charge of someone whose health is failing takes a toll!   I'm sleeping in a cot in her hospital room.  I’m coordinating a visiting schedule so Shannon doesn’t get overwhelmed with people.  I’m planning a funeral, I’m making sure that her business continues smoothly, I’m trying to get exercise (to keep sane), I’m wondering what life will be like as a single man, especially once Ben goes off to college.  It’s about me.  Things have turned inward.

This morning, as I woke up and lay there thinking (something that happens around 4 or 5 am every day…it’d be nice to get a full night of sleep for a change), my thoughts shifted to Shannon.  What must life be like to be standing at the brink of death?  Here I am thinking and making plans for the future.  She will never see that future.  Her future is with you, not me.

As you know, my faith has always centered around this hope.  From the moment of my mom’s funeral when I was a mere seven years old I have clung to the resurrection with my whole being.  Now that hope is for Shannon.  It’s the only hope we have.  She’s eating and drinking little.  She’s losing weight and energy.  No matter how hard we try to keep her strong our options are limited.  God, your options are not.  I’m not going to beg and plead for a miracle.  I know all too well that death is a part of life.  Shannon will die, but in you she will rise.  She will life with the glorious saints.  I won’t pretend to understand what that looks like, but I do trust that you have it all under control.

So, for this one morning, I’m reaching out to you.  I’m trusting in your faithfulness.   I know that Shannon will be ‘set free.’   Tomorrow the cares of this world may again overwhelm me, but right now your resurrection floods my soul.  Thank you for that.

Today's Prayer

Dear God,

I’m having a bit of a hard time focusing these days so I thought I’d take some time to write you a letter.  This way I can get all my thoughts in one place.

God, my wife Shannon is dying.  Yes, I said that.  My brain believes it (most days), but only sporadically does the reality sink in.

For 11 ½ years she has endured ovarian cancer treatments, but she’s had cancer longer than that.  Before we moved to Minnesota she went to her doctor with all the classic symptoms of ovarian cancer. (bloating, cramping, etc).  She was sent home with a pat on the head and a, “Tut tut, you’re over 30 now.  The body changes.”  Four months after we’d moved to my new call at Peace Lutheran Church she felt a lump in her abdomen one morning.  At first they assumed it was a hernia but sent her for a CT scan to be sure.  The doctor called us back into her office as soon as the results came in.  Cancer.  Ovarian cancer.  The cancer her mom has.  The cancer that took her grandma’s life. 

That diagnosis hit me hard.  My mom Edee passed away when I was seven.  I have few memories of her, and she’s very sick in every memory.  At the time our son Ben was five.  Would the same thing happen to him? 

Shannon endured that first surgery and the heavy chemotherapy that followed and received a clean bill of health.  She’d beaten it!  For about five months we celebrated, but then a scan revealed it had come back.  More surgery.  More chemo.  Another celebration of victory followed a couple months later by a reality that we’ve had to live with.  This cancer wouldn’t go away.  The focus of treatment changed from remission to management.

Some day we’re going to look back on our current cancer treatment options with horror.  Basically, we poison the body and hope it hits the cancer worse than it hits everything else.  It seems barbaric, but it’s the best we have.  It’s like looking at the ‘tools of the trade’ for dentists from 150 years ago.  What made sense then seems downright evil to us today.  For years we have pumped chemicals through Shannon’s body to keep the cancer at bay.  We retained some control.  We planned the treatments based on the time of year.  When summer would come we’d try to have something that required fewer trips to Mayo Clinic and had fewer side effects.  We learned to plan our trips to the lake around when she would feel good.   When one chemo would quite working we always had more in the hopper.  Some made her miserable.  Some were tolerated well.  Our hope was that she’d have enough options for treatment until they could find something really good to take the cancer out once and for all.

Last fall is when things started to unravel.  She had a great summer including three straight weeks at the lake.  We walked a couple miles a day.  We lived in great hope.  But last fall she had a hard time getting her breath on a walk.  The scan showed that cancer had spread to the lining of her lung.  We never expected this!  Unlike breast cancer (and some others), ovarian cancer tends to stay put.  It doesn’t show up in other parts of the body, yet here it slipped over the diaphragm.  This lead to new treatments which proved ineffective, which led to more new treatments.  Her tumors started reacting in different ways: a chemo would do a great job on the cancer by the lung but let the tumors in the abdomen grow.  We’d switch to another drug and the opposite would occur. 

Despite all this Shannon and I kept hope.  We knew we were one good drug away from knocking the cancer back.  This wasn’t a completely vain hope.  We’d seen it happen before.  We knew it could happen again.  God, we’ve experienced your healing touch through all of this.  We’ve prayed and prayed for healing.

Yet in the midst of this hope a knife of pain began to stab in my soul.  I started having moments of doubt.  Was my hope simply a denial of reality?  Every time I explained Shannon’s situation to someone it sounded worse than I expected.  What seemed so ‘normal’ to me usually shocked others. 

For the past months it seems that my entire faith life has centered around Shannon and her cancer.  When I pray she’s on my mind.  When I read scripture I do it through the lens of cancer, pain, and suffering.  When I worship I think of little else.  Last Easter I found myself in tears on many occasions with all the talk of death and resurrection.   It seemed to hit close to home.

God, my life with you has always centered around resurrection.  My earliest memories of faith are of my mom’s funeral and the words of hope that I heard there.  I have always reveled in the book of Revelation with its portrayal of your victory over evil and death.  Frankly, I have missed having the opportunity to preach at funerals and proclaim to the world that death does not have the last word.

Yet the word from the doctor last Friday still hurts.  After 11 ½ year of this, the time for fighting cancer has ended.  The scan showed that in the past two months the cancer has grown rapidly.  We didn’t expect this!  Ovarian cancer has been slow growing and we expected it to stay that way.   I suspected the day would come when the cancer would become life threatening, but I wasn’t prepared to hear ‘You have weeks to months to live.’ 

God, after the initial flood of emotions I’ve become numb, which is why I’m writing this letter to you.  It just doesn’t seem possible that my time with Shannon is so short.  Sure she sleeps much of the day but it’s like she’s on chemo.  I feel like we’ve been here before.  I’m just waiting for things to improve and we can get back to life.  I have to face it.  There is no getting back to life.  Shannon is on hospice.  The goal is to keep her comfortable.  How can this be?

I want to revel in Your hope.  I want those words of victory from Revelation to inspire my soul.  Right now they do nothing for me.   Some are ‘praying for a miracle.’  I know You can do that.  I also know You usually don’t.  I’m not going to spend these last days pretending that everything will be fine.  Deep down I know that I must face reality.  As a pastor I’ve walked down this road with many families.  It’s time to walk the road myself.   Thankfully I’m not on this road alone.  I have family and friends alongside me.  My brain knows that You are there too, even when I’m not feeling it.  

God, right now I’m not feeling it.  I have to trust in Your promises.  I guess that’s what faith is all about.

Be with me!

Your servant,

Pete

Accepting Mediocrity

A while back I sat through a church conference presentation that I thought would never end.  The presenter had some helpful things to say but the room drifted into a late afternoon stupor .  Hearing someone read bullet points off of a PowerPoint in a monotone proved too much.  The pain people experienced overflowed in the bitter conversation over dinner. 

“What a waste of time.” 

“Doesn't she know that she’s boring?” 

“I came here to learn, not to be put to sleep.”  

Those who knew the presenter stood up for her (following Martin Luther’s words, ‘Defend them, speak well of them, and explain their actions in the kindest way’).  “She’s a good person who loves the church and knows her material.  She obviously didn't have time to prepare.  Go easy on her.  It’s not her fault.”

A whole table full of people talked ABOUT the presenter, but not one person talked TO the presenter.  Nobody would dare do that.  It would be the height of rudeness to tell someone that their presentation was mind numbing!  As Christians we’re supposed to love and support each other, right?

That’s exactly why someone needed to talk to the presenter!   Was it loving to allow her to think she did a great job when she didn’t?  Would it be more loving to talk behind her back or to speak truth in love to her face?  If the presenter truly ‘loves the church and knows her material’ she will WANT that kind of feedback to allow her words to carry the power and insight that can change the world.

Instead, out of Christian ‘politeness,’ people chose to complain among themselves.

Recently I met with someone from an organization that embraces a brutally honest culture.  When they give a presentation people sit in the back to observe.   They take time afterwards to sit with the presenter and offer very pointed critiques to allow the presenter to do a better job the next time.  The person I met with told of his early days in the organization.  He had been assigned to observe one of the icons of their movement as she led a group.   In the feedback time that followed he simply stated, “That was the best presentation I have ever seen.  You have an amazing gift for this and I am fortunate to be able to observe.”  At the end of the feedback session, she took him aside privately and said, “If you don’t have any helpful critique for me you are of no use to me.”

This sounds harsh but every presenter in the organization sought to be the best that they could be.  If they only received sycophantic feedback then they would never have the opportunity to face their weak areas.  They would remain trapped in the same unhelpful patterns throughout their career.  They would never fully unleash all their God-given gifts.

Last year I spoke at a gathering of retired pastors.  The gathering ended with me receiving kudos from many in the room.  “Great presentation, Pete.”  “You have a lot of energy.”  “Well done.”  One response, however, stuck with me, “You yelled the whole time.  You had a microphone, so bring your voice down a bit.  It was hard to listen to you for the whole time.  I eventually tuned you out.”  His response took me by surprise.  My first thought, “How could he be so rude?!”  But the more I thought about it, the more I realized he had a point.  He wasn’t attacking me as a person.  He wanted to help me to be a better presenter.  Now, as I speak to a group, I intentionally think about the way I sound.  One person’s honest response changes how I act.  Without it, I would never have known.

Many of our churches have created a culture of accepting mediocrity.   We equate ‘what I do’ with ‘who I am,’ so any critique of my actions becomes a personal attack.  We’re willing to lie and say, “Great job” when we know it was anything but great.  We label someone ‘a jerk’ if they speak the truth…sometimes the truth that everyone else is thinking but is afraid to say.   What if we created a culture of honesty, where in love for one another we could actually talk about ways to improve? 

We’re afraid of that kind of honesty.  The sermon was terrible?  That’s OK, he’s a nice guy.  The council meeting ran way over because the president kept getting sidetracked?  Annoying, but we can deal with it.  One person completely dominated the adult ed conversation, leaving no room for anyone else to speak?  That’s just fine, we just won’t go next time.

I know full well that some people are just mean.  They go out of their way to criticize for the sole purpose of making someone feel terrible.   That’s not what I’m talking about here.  When we’re in loving relationships with each other we can be honest with each other.  We can provide praise when that’s appropriate.  We can offer critique when needed. 

God calls us to excellence in what we do.  Leaders who can’t face any critique will remain limited in their abilities and will never fully use the gifts that God has given them.  How can God’s church boldly proclaim God’s Good News to a world that desperately needs to hear it if we so willingly embrace mediocrity? 

Time for Honesty

On Wednesday morning I heard brutally honest words.  "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."  In a nutshell, as someone placed a cross of ashes on my forehead she told me, “You’re going to die.  Your body will decompose.  You will go back to dirt.”

Not exactly the stuff of Hallmark greeting cards…but an honest assessment of reality.

Nearly every Sunday when I worship I start the service by boldly proclaiming my failures.  Together with the whole community I tell God about my selfishness, my pride, my greed, my anger, and my jealousy.  It’s a no-holds-barred assessment of my life: I have failed God in many ways.

Followers of Jesus Christ have the freedom to express such blunt honesty. 

We live in a world that feels the need to sugar coat everything.   We want to be strong.  We want to be successful.  We want to live happily every after.  These Disney-dreams sometimes creep into our lives of faith.  We can get the impression that if only we believe in Jesus ‘enough’ then everything will go our way.  The pressure is on us to get things right so God can properly bless us.  We need the proper prayers, the proper devotional life, the proper morality.  Do these things and God will shower you with blessings.

It’s a dangerous lie. 

When our faith depends on our good actions, churches become cesspools of hypocrisy.  People dare not show any weakness in faith.  Only stories of God’s amazing power in their lives can be told (and if you don’t have an amazing story, you might try to come up with one to fit in).  Underneath the veneer of a happy smile, however, people hurt.  They doubt.  They struggle.  They don’t want to admit to any problems (other than ones in the past that they have ‘conquered in Jesus’) lest they be looked down upon and judged.  It’s a race to see who can seem the most content in their faith.  “Look at me, God.  I’m awesome.”

It’s a dangerous lie.

We are broken, sinful people living in a broken, sinful world.  That’s the harsh truth.  We have moments when we doubt our faith.  We have times when we wonder if God is even out there anywhere.  We have things that we do which we know full well are wrong, yet we can’t seem to stop ourselves.  We have illnesses that don’t heal.  We have financial problems.  We struggle to raise our children.  The list could go on and on.

Life is difficult…and then you die.  That’s an honest assessment, but it’s not the whole story.  In the midst of this life of pain, Jesus comes for you.  Jesus brings love, hope, forgiveness, and life.  Jesus knows pain, he had nails driven into his wrists.  Jesus knows rejection, his followers deserted him and his people condemned him.  Jesus knows death.  We’re not alone in this journey through life...and even into death.

It’s time for Christ’s church to proclaim the honest reality of the world.  We don’t have to ‘get it all together’ to have faith.  The only way we come before the throne of God is as unworthy people forgiven through Jesus’ death and resurrection.

I am free to hear that I am dust because of a God who redeems the dust.  I am free to confess my failures because of a God who forgives failures.  My role in faith is not to impress God with my faithfulness so I can receive a blessing.  My role is simply to walk with Jesus, in good days and in bad, in hope and in despair, when my faith is strong and when it’s struggling.  In the end, when my body goes back to dust, this is the God who will redeem me.  In the Bible Job proclaims, "After my skin has been thus destroyed, then in my flesh shall I see God."  I will die and God will continue to act.

I am free to be honest.  God knows me too well to do anything else.

Having a goal...and shooting for it!

A couple weeks ago my son Ben and I reached a goal that is out of the grasp of most people: we

completed a half marathon.  For the past several months I’ve been in ‘training mode.’  While I enjoy running year round, this is the time when I increase the number of miles I’m putting in.  I start with 5 mile runs and weekly increase to 6, then 7, up to 9 miles.  I figure that if I can run 9 miles by myself I can definitely run 13 miles in a crowd.  The training paid off.  On a beautiful day in downtown St. Paul I ran my third half marathon, finishing 8 minutes faster than last year.  I wanted to beat 2 hours, and I finished in 1:53.  Goal completed!

Some of the 500 people running that day ran with a very different goal in mind.   “The Securian half-Marathon is an official Wave 1 qualifier for the Medtronic Twin Cities Marathon.”  That means some the top runners ran this race with a larger goal in mind.  They sought to qualify to start with the elite crowd in a marathon.  I suspect that their training took a more vigorous course, as the top runner finished over 40 minutes before I did.  For every mile that I ran, he gained 3 minutes on me.  Pretty impressive! 

For me, the Securian half-marathon served as goal to shoot for.  For the top runners, this half-marathon served as a means towards a more significant goal.  For them the half-marathon was not enough: they had their eyes on a greater prize.  We ran the same race…we had different ideas of what the race meant to us. 

Different goals…different training…different outcomes

I think the same can be said for faith formation in many congregations.  People come to it with vastly different goals, seeking different outcomes.   Is it any wonder that we have a hard time agreeing on the best way to ‘train’?

• For some, faith formation means Sunday School attendance.  Having many kids roaming the halls of the church building brings satisfaction and hope.  If kids show up, the goal is complete.
• Others want their children to gain a sense of right and wrong.
• Others want their kids to know something about the Bible. 
• Others come with a goal of keeping youth engaged in faith and the church throughout their lives. 

Is it any wonder that when you bring people together with such different goals and ask the question, “What should our church do with our kids,” you get vastly different responses? 

•  Those for whom Sunday School attendance is the measuring stick will go all out to preserve the status quo while seeking to find a ‘draw’ to get kids to show up.  Perfect attendance pins used to be a draw, but they don’t seem as effective as they used to be.  If only they can find a fun curriculum then kids will flock to Sunday School once again! 
• If the goal is to grow kids with a strong sense of morality, some education needs to be coupled with opportunities for to serve in the world.  Once the kids have the proper background (i.e. when Confirmation is complete), then the necessary groundwork had been laid.    
• If Bible teaching is crucial, then the proper teachers need to be brought in to pass on that information.  You’d never expect a parent to teach calculus to their child, so why would you expect a parent to teach the Bible to their kids?  Trained leaders are good…pastors have the most training and are the best!  These Biblical stories can be taught all the way through Confirmation, but that’s enough.  Sure there are deeper levels of learning, but a basic understanding is sufficient.
• If the goal is to develop young people with a vibrant faith, the research overwhelmingly shows that the most effective way to 'produce young adults who are active and engaged in their lives of faith' is through mentoring from parents and other adults.  These parents seek opportunities for inter-generational learning so their children can be impacted by the faith of their elders.  They seek to be empowered in their own faith journey so they can share those experiences with their kids.  “If Sunday School and Luther League don’t develop kids into a life-long relationship with a living God, then scrap them!” they say.

Ben and I trained for a half-marathon.  It was enough for us!  Others approached the event with much loftier goals in their sights (and they accomplished what they set out to do).  It would have been difficult to train together given these vastly different desired outcomes.

Congregations struggle to agree on ways to raise kids in the faith because they come at it with vastly different goals in mind.  Some parents (and grandparents) are perfectly happy with the ‘old models’ because they accomplish exactly what they want them to accomplish.  Others seek much more.   It is difficult to ‘train’ together given these vastly different desired outcomes.

What ‘goals’ does your congregation have for faith formation?  Is it accomplishing what you want it to accomplish?