DECEMBER 13TH, 2010 WALLA WALLA, WA, 55 DEGREES, OVERCAST,
We have lived in cities during our married life. Aix-en Provence, France; Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada; Pasadena, California. It's not like we can't live in an urban setting, we just choose not to. Today we leave our ranch and home and begin the trek to Seattle and the Cancer Care Alliance. We will meet up with daughter Ella and her husband Christopher in Portland, Oregon for dinner along with daughter Hanna. We will spend the night with Hanna at her place in Kelso, WA and proceed on to Seattle on Tuesday with appointments scheduled at SCCA (Seattle Cancer Care Alliance) beginning around 11 AM on Wednesday. I describe Seattle as Nineveh, not because it is such a sinful place, but because we feel like this decision somehow has God's overriding imprint and we are just along for the ride. There are things we are to do there in ministry with others and there are things we are supposed to learn while we are there from others. It is very difficult to leave one's home and spiritual family of over 32 years and be gone for up to 4 months with a medical challenge that is both life threatening and life saving. We will have to redo all the pre-transplant testing in the coming weeks and the transplant itself is scheduled for January 5, 2011.
One of the things I will miss the most is the ministry with our first guest family in the Wasser House back here in College Place. Allen has lung cancer, complicated with a tumor that has spread and wrapped itself around his spinal column. He lives in LaGrande, Oregon with his fiance, Pauline and their blended family of 5 children. They are expecting their first child together in March. We bought and remodeled the Wasser House in order to house cancer patients and their families while they are receiving cancer treatment here in Walla Walla. It is no coincidence that Allen is our first guest. A plaque in the living room comes from Haggai 2:9, it reads: "The glory of this present house will be greater than the glory of the former house," says the Lord Almighty, "and in this place I will grant peace." Allen, like so many people accepted Christ as his savior when he was younger. But life and the spiritual powers of darkness have a way of isolating and alienating us from our first love for God and we slowly grow cold and indifferent to the things of God. The lowest point was last April when Pauline miscarried their baby and her brother-in-law, Allen's best friend, died. Weeks later, Allen was diagnosed with cancer and life seemed hardly worth living. He was tempted to just give up and give in to the disease and die. Pauline reminded him he had 11 reasons not to give up; she and her five children, an older step-daughter from a previous marriage and the three young children from his friend who had died who looked to him for a father figure, plus his unborn child she is carrying at this time. He decided to fight the cancer. That is how it came about that Allen and I were sitting almost next to each other, Wednesday, November 17th at St. Mary's Cancer Center here in Walla Walla, WA, both of us receiving chemo. We overheard them talking about staying at a place called the Wasser House and after a while, Kriss and I introduced ourselves and told them that we would be their hosts and show them how to get to the house and show them around.
From the first minute they entered the house they were overwhelmed with the beauty and simplicity of this home of love. Hundreds of willing hands have toiled countless hours to transform this derelict tenement dwelling into a sanctuary of hospitality. My friend, Frederick Buechner writes in his book, WISHFUL THINKING, about what it means to be "Holy": "Only God is holy, just as only people are human. God's holiness is his Godness. To speak of anything else as holy is to say that it has something of God's mark upon it. Times, places, things, and people can all be holy, and when they are, they are usually not hard to recognize.
One holy place I know is a workshop attached to a barn. There is a wood-burning stove in it made out of an oil drum. There is a workbench, dark and dented, with shallow, crammed drawers behind one of which a cat lives. There is a girlie calendar on the wall, plus various lengths of chain and rope, shovels and rakes of different sizes and shapes, some worn-out jackets and caps on pegs, an electric clock that doesn't keep time. On the workbench are two small plug-in radios both of which have serious things wrong with them. There are several metal boxes full of wrenches, and a bench saw. There are a couple of chairs with rungs missing. There is an old yellow bulldozer with its tracks caked with mud parked against one wall. The place smells mainly of engine oil and smoke-both wood smoke and pipe smoke. The windows are small, and even on bright days what light there is comes through mainly in window-sized patches on the floor.
I have no idea why this place is holy, but you can tell it is the moment you set foot in it if you have an eye for that kind of thing. For reasons known only to God, it is one of the places he uses for sending his love to the world through." I have no doubt that the Wasser House is already one of the places God is sending his love to this world. Allen has rededicated his life to Christ and daily feels Jesus's presence whenever he walks into the House. I visit him there almost daily and we talk about life, cancer treatments and his hopes and dreams for his family. He is committed to following Jesus faithfully the rest of his days and showing his expanding family the hope and power of God's love. He has been overwhelmed by God's unconditional love as manifested by the people of our congregation. I have never seen such a spiritual and emotional transformation in all my years as a pastor. This is the essence of evangelism, the sharing of the "Good News" of God's love and salvation through authentic and sacrificial love. I can see God making this brother in Christ into a new creation before my eyes. I never leave Allen's presence without tears in my eyes. The tears are not about the life and death medical battle we are both facing. They are tears of unbelievable joy in seeing God use our humble, yet sincere hands and hearts to make an eternal difference in this family, to the Glory of God. I know others in our congregation will step in and continue to nurture and befriend Allen and his family. God's work isn't dependent on my presence, but I will miss the privilege of being an instrument of God's love in Allen's life.
Pastors and theologians are constantly analyzing and attempting to define "the Church". For the most part, I feel it is futile and a waste of time. Jesus called his followers to do two things; love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind and strength and your neighbor as yourself. When we come even close to obeying both of those commandments, we are truly the Body of Christ, the ecclesia/the church. I have stopped going to pastoral conferences because almost everyone there seems miserable and angry at the people they are called to serve. They whine and complain about the lack of passion and authenticity among their parishioners and then go out in the evening with fellow clergy and drown their sorrows with a pint or two. If one speaks out in praise and celebration of the blessings of God and the joy of serving with amazingly gracious and Christlike people, they look at you like you couldn't possibly be telling the truth and ignore you completely. Following Christ is essentially pretty simple. You either trust and obey or you don't. The apostle Paul calls us to love deeply and joyfully. In this Advent Season, may we all find the time to simply love and enjoy the abundant blessings God has given. Most of the time they are living within your own walls or family unit. Slow down long enough to embrace those that God has put in your circle of love.
Yakima Valley Community College, Fall of 1970.
My second year of College started like the first, but it ended dramatically differently. I was still involved in Middle School and High School ministries, but now the complication of "relationships" took hold. There is no manual to easily navigate these winding twists and turns of the heart. Scripture gives us bold moral guidelines, but there are so many subtle choices you have to make on a daily basis that is gets more and more confusing. Romantic love is an intoxicant and people act out those emotions in foolish and sometimes dangerous ways. I thought I had found the love of my life, even my mother approved. But we were both too young and immature to understand the gift of another person's heart. We ended up causing each other more pain and suffering than I could ever have imagined. Whatever feelings we had for each other were consumed in the flames of perceived rejection and abandonment. By the grace of God we both survived the ordeal, but there were emotional scars and pain that we both carried for years.
I was slowly weaning myself away from my relatively comfortable life of living with my Mother and working in ministries that were known and safe. I had to make some major decisions about the coming years of education and I felt God's call to go to France and study in a French University in Aix-en-Provence. I applied to Institute for American Universities located in that city and was accepted. They had a Honor's Program that sent students directly to the Universite Aix/Marseille and I was hopeful that I would qualify, and I did. In the Spring of my last year at YVC I turned out for the tennis team and earned a spot on the team. Many of my fellow teammates were guys that I had competed against when I played for Wapato High School, so it felt like a real team. We had a very successful season. Mr. Shearer, the legendary coach was in his final few years and he taught us a lot about tennis and life. I found out rather quickly that athletes were treated differently than ordinary students. All our tennis shoes, socks, uniforms and letterman jackets were provided free of charge. All our travel expenses were covered and we lacked for nothing. They even sewed our names into the pocket of our letterman jackets and I still have mine to this day. I remember playing Central Washington University in Ellensburg one day. We swept every single match. Their coach was the legendary Dean Nicholson, both tennis and basketball coach. He took all of us aside after the match and offered any of us who would be interested a scholarship to come to CWU and play tennis for him. Most of the guys took him up on his offer and in the coming couple of years they won the NAIA national championships. I was headed to France, so I told him I couldn't take him up on his offer, but it would have been fun.
I remembered the disappointment I felt when I left Wapato High School and wasn't eligible to play tennis at Eishenhower High School. I never forgot the scripture where Jesus promised that anyone who sacrifices anything of value in order to serve Him would one day receive back that same opportunity not only in heaven, but in this life as well. I felt that God had given me back the opportunity to play competitive tennis that second year at YVC. It was a spiritual lesson that I was to see played out over and over again in my life and ministry. You simply can't out give Yehovah Jireh/God who provides. Whether it is tithing 10% of your income, dedicating time and talents to God's service or sacrificially giving of yourself in love and compassion, God's blessings seem to overflow into and through obedient hands. I heard someone teach about how blood vessels don't have any way of being provided nutrition except by drawing sustenance from the blood that flows through them. In the same way, God nourishes us abundantly as we serve as a vessel of his love and gifts. Once we stop that flow, we become stagnant and in our attempt to hoard what we have, we risk losing it all. The parable of the Talents has always inspired me to remember that everything, EVERYTHING, we have is a gift from God. One day we will be asked to account for what we have done with all those blessings and what rejoicing there will be when we lay those talents at Jesus' feet.
I finished my studies at YVC and began the craziest summer I could ever have imagined. God has a way of stretching us to our limits so that we have no choice but to trust more fully in Jesus. The summer of 1972 would make an amazing movie, I can hardly believe we survived it all.
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