So, When Is It OK To Be A Cripple?

All, very sorry for the unintended sabbatical. Life got in the way. We now continue with our regularly scheduled writing.

In a recent conversation I mentioned to a friend that I’d just started using my power chair to get around. “Oh my God! I didn’t know it was that bad!” Stunned, I wondered why I felt like I’d told her I had 6 months to live.

So the dark clouds descend, and the query forms. “So, when IS it OK to be a cripple?”

Is it OK when a person goes to war and has to have his limb amputated after “honorably discharging his duties”? Is it OK when you’re born “that way”? Is it OK if you survive after being the victim of a hit and run?

When Is It OK?

I’ve seen it in the Hallmark and Lifetime movies; read about it; even heard it coming from my own mouth talking to my wife. But it’s a different story, a whole world full of collisions, hearing it from other people. “Why are you crippled?” And then they just leave you there.

Wherever “there” is. Because people rarely realize where they leave you when they hit you with “why are you crippled?” They hear a part of your story and then, not understanding (not thinking?), they serve judgment.

This is the cross of living in a sight oriented world. Given my power chair, I’m as functional as most people, and far more functional than I’d been before I decided to finally say, “heck, it’s time to use it.” I’ve had access to the thing for over a year. Oh, and I wear glasses too.

“That’s a good reason to be crippled.” “Meh, dunno bout that – that really doesn’t qualify him to be a cripple, so why does he look like one?” “Guy, that’s an injury?” “And you think you’re hurt…” It’s not a new situation.

“Lord, who did sin that this man was born [a cripple]?” the disciples asked Jesus. (John 9:2)

My osteoarthritis, arguably, is genetic which means it was passed on to me. Arguably, it may be from my diet – I’ve always had an adverse reaction to fruit which is crucial to aiding the digestion of vitamins and minerals necessary for strong bone formation. Arguably, it may be from sin. I’ve done that before. Maybe my parents were sinners. But I believe it’s God’s fault.

What’d he just say?

I didn’t say God afflicted evil upon me, but I’m sure He’s the author of the occurrence.

These are situations. These affect what I can do. They do not affect who I am. But how I react to them will affect who God wants me to be.

Jesus’ answer is a subtly necessary reminder of who is in charge of what we see as good and bad and why, ultimately, we have to let the answer rest with His will. “Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.” (John 9:3)

I have learned about the suffering of others through my own pain. I have learned more about the gnawing, dark, scratching sounds we run away from in our own souls by being confronted with my own terrors both day and night.

I have learned why I must love the elderly, the hurting and downtrodden, because very few see their slowing steps, their crippled hearts, their struggling thoughts gasping for the air we casually, effortlessly breathe (or so we would make it seem). The downtrodden, by the way, are usually trod upon by the “healthy” seeking to run away from their own realities.

I am learning the limitations that exist in every mind and heart because of the limitations upon my body. What my glasses do for my sight, my osteoarthritis is doing for my heart. I have never seen more clearly in my life, and there’s so much more to see.

For the first time, I really thanked Job for what he shares. ‘Then his wife said to him, “Do you still hold fast to your integrity? Curse God and die!” But he said to her, “You speak as one of the foolish women speaks. Shall we indeed accept good from God, and shall we not accept adversity?” In all this Job did not sin with his lips.’ (Job 2:9-10 NKJV)

We find it so easy to accept the good that God gives, when evil comes along (as it will), we shouldn’t just want to crumple in a corner and die. This is the evil, not the adversity.

Should a 42 year old man fear a fall? It’s a moot point: this is my reality. Here’s an interesting thought: should a 82 year old man fear a fall? It, too, is a moot point. There is only one who is able to make me stand, and in Him I must trust. It’s just that I can see that, now.

Cue strains of “Amazing Grace” in the background.

O Lord, though my body should fall, and even fail, let me not fall from Your grace, which will never fail. -ever learning to serve.

Separation Without Anxiety

In a very real sense, my brother, in his visit to my home, has become my “Bridge to Terabithia”. We’re so much alike, done so many things together. I think we’re twins born out of time.

We spent a great deal of creative time together. At our closest, we would spend hours together talking and playing the games we loved to play, the games we lived for, the worlds we lived within.

I remember those last few months only vaguely, but the “shifting” I remember well. Even within the games we were playing, my desires were changing as my soul unknowingly collided with the hand of God. Perhaps in a very real way I’d abandoned my brother (more than any other) when I walked away and became a Christian. I know I had abandoned the world.

“It is time to wake up and Live”.

The seed, planted years before had taken root and had had enough. As it began to shove and shift Son-ward, touching the first rays of light, my portrayals were more and more “life-like”. On the Day of All Things Changing, all the signs were there. A majestic sunlit day. A determined outing to do “something right” with my life. My spirit-sister-guide and I had the same last names. And we both had a Knowing.

On that day I walked away from everything and everybody I thought I had known. I experienced total separation without anxiety. Though I lived in the same 12-story building with some of my friends, I did not see them for 6 months. And I would never again go back to the games which were my “cosmos from chaos”, because I was now on a true Journey Cosmic, towards knowing God. I had swallowed the red pill and was free from the Matrix.

But in that freeing, there came a certain deception or protection, though I am not sure which, and often think it was both. I truly enjoyed writing poetry. During one love-struck season, I’d written roughly 200 poems. And computers. Man, I really enjoyed computers.

I left them both, associating poetry with my illicitly sensuous relationship, and computers as something for the “weak-minded”. There were numerous other things I cut off from my life, unwittingly determined to make as clean a break as possible.

Does this happen to everyone who encounters Christ and wrestles with their own soul? Maybe it does. Haven’t seen that survey with the heading, “How much of your past did you leave behind when you found Christ?”

Protection – because I needed time to sort out bad from acceptable, and good from God. Finding sacred in the profane.

Deception – because I learned poetry, like a computer, is a tool. Sometimes I use them for work, but mostly for expression. Of course, it’s not just what I make, but also how it’s received. Deceived because I’m sure my wife would like some prose to go with that rose I give her now and then.

But there’s this Bridge, and on one side is a rose and another a golden quill. And is that a dragon standing on the Bridge?

Ergo my journey in spiritu sans ego. Because it’s challenging, even maddening, sorting through the garbage that’s STILL in your soul after years of sainthood.

Priest of the Lord. Beloved of the Most High. Friend of the Almighty. Son of God. Child of the Creator. My mind balks at those epithets, but if someone had called me IT Tech, Administrative Assistant, Welder, Soldier my heart would stand up and salute in agreement.

Remember… times of intense prayer how I would dance, man, how I would dance in the spirit. A sword swinging, cutting chains which bound to this world and all of its weighty devices. How I would sing and my words would merge with the wisps of smoke coming from around the world, joining in a sweet smelling, flaming offering of love.

Remember… times spent together, planning, fighting, victories against unsurpassed evils, against tyranny and oppression. Times of camaraderie and passion, bonding and laughter. We never feared the outcome because we could never truly die.

Are these world so far apart? Are they meant to be separate?

I’m standing at the foot of the Bridge, wondering will I have the courage which I once possessed to cross it again. Wondering if I will remember the truth to overcome the fear, knowing I can never truly die…?

Who Told You To Stop Writing?

I think in a very real sense I am re-entering a place in my soul, a place of childhood and growth. I don’t know how long this will last, but I do know that I am going there, and I must say that I am – for the moment – very glad.

I am not particularly sure whether it is my childhood re-lived or re-loved, but this I do know: I am willingly (but hesitantly) exploring many things I’d left behind. Writing and music, these were unripe fruit, seeds, that had fallen to the ground of my heart severed from the tree of expectation by the callousness of youth and folly – mine and others.

But seeds they were for they delved into the soil of my night and stayed safely hidden until now.

As I opened “Walking on Water” (by Madeleine L’Engle), my heart welling up in long-pent tears, I realized that I had been denied (denied myself?) so many things for so long. In essence I’d denied who I was, and this season, this journey of mine was, is, a resurfacing; no, a true resurrection of things long dead.

I do and do not know what lurks and stirs beneath the surface. With fear, awe and curiosity I wait wonderingly for it to surface, knowing that it is fearsome and truly Holy. What in Christ is going on?

And as I “pen” this, I realize that the Lord’s query – “Who told you to stop writing?” – was not accusing, but a calling, beckoning, a continuing invitation. “Who told you to stop writing?” This question must now be answered, indeed it is at the core of my soul; the heart and the crux of the matter as He gently shatters every pre-conception I have owned.

I do not know whether to welcome this transformation or not. I simply know that it cometh.

Casting Crowns

Victory. Maybe I’m just beginning to know what it smells like. Yet, there is something slightly different in this pot. Some odor that’s not quite …

I took for granted the first degree that I had achieved partially because I hadn’t received a diploma yet, partially because I was still in school (pursuing a second-degree), and partially because I’m just not used to successes on my own merit.

So many of my “accomplishments” haven’t been “my own”. The endeavored results usually happened far different from the anticipation or the plan. Getting my GED? That was a byproduct of going to Job Corps (which I never completed). Getting saved? Wow…

Getting married? Spiritually and emotionally I was still very young, didn’t really know what I had gotten myself into. After 14 years I now know that Tracy is the perfect gift for me. She has subtly, quietly, unknowingly caused me to find the rare diamond of being able to listen to my inner voice for validation.

At times, it seemed as if my beloved would intentionally withhold that tender endearment or that emotional high-five. For someone who often sought (and I still catch myself occasionally doing this, though not as “desperate-ly”, not as “needing-ly”, not as “clinging-ly”) the tangible approval of others, it caused me to “moping-ly” dig within myself and find the validation I so desperately wanted.

More often than not, I would run into a hearty, “Suck it up and drive on”. But occasionally, there was a rather quiet voice that stilled me… To hear God speak within your spirit saying, “well done…” on this side of eternity is a rare treat. It is one I suspect we would hear more often if we weren’t seeking our pat on the back from …

Surviving past the first term in the military? A gift, wrapped with many precious lessons. Being deployed to Afghanistan and Iraq, coming back totally intact and greatly enriched by the experiences? A blessing beyond measure. Medically retiring from the military, graciously exiting with nary a hurdle, easing through mounds of red tape with no glitches or hitches? The more I hear from my other friends who have left the military, the more I realize I have received nothing short of a modern miracle.

Through these and numerous other life events, a pattern emerges: if it was within my control, it often went out of control. Once it was beyond my control, things went right. This is the hand of God in my life. I thank You, Lord.

But going to school, graduating, feels different for me because the choices were essentially mine. It wasn’t something overnight, it was something I had to commit to, something I had to dedicate my heart to. There were no shortcuts this time, no snatching victory from the jaws of death and utter despair. This was just something I had to do. It was something I did. And nothing went wrong!

Sniff, sniff. Smelling far too familiar, this smell.

Looking back, I see now that the times that He’d said “well done…” was because — through His power — I had overcome the gravity of this world. By both doing the deed, and more importantly, giving Him the glory, I’d escaped the clutches of the enemy.

God’s permissive will. Areas He gives us more laterality, room to maneuver; this perhaps comes with maturity. Yet it is careless to confuse scope of movement for ability to do. Isn’t He the source of will and do? Would motion be possible without Him? Should it be?

He gives me the crown of victory. Will I remember that it is He who has made me? I had nothing to do with this. Will I remember that all of the victories in the world mean nothing without the comfort, presence, tenancy of my Lord? Oh Lord, make it so…

Through the eye of the Spirit: One day, coming from the heart, “Lord, it shall not be so…” The intention was good, even noble. But the difference between Good and God is one “oh” too many, one thought too much. The reply, I fear, has not changed in 2000 years: “Get behind me, Satan! For you are not mindful of the things of God, but the things of men”.

Hubris is subtle. It does not attempt the outlandish, the daring, the wildly insane thought. It merely attempts to cipher “Y” and “u” for “G” and “d”. By very small degrees it mutates “God” into “You”. No longer “God did this…”, but “You did this…” A child’s step to “I did this…”

How to react on that day? Will I take the crown off of my head, humbly bow and place it back at his feet?

Forgive me.

And thank You.

Thank You for snatching me from the jaws of death and utter despair once again.

What Do You Do For a Living? (Part 2)

(Part 2)

My exit from the military and re-entry into civilian life has been nothing short of grand. Paperwork went smoothly, medical help was excellent, assessments were stellar, entry into appropriate programs and schooling was almost painfully easy. Painful because after talking to some of my old military pals, I realize how much trouble they were having getting compensation and benefits for issues and injuries or just to use their G.I. Bill which they paid for with their own money.

It also reinforces my understanding of “The favor of God ain’t fair”.

Somewhere on the other side of this thing, about a year and a half into school, on the other side of my wife’s double lung transplant… Hmm. OK. Even I just had to stop there, scroll back up and look at the track on this story. In July of 2009, my wonderful wife had a double lung transplant. She’s getting stronger with each passing week. Right now she’s visiting family on a three week trip in TX.

My children are grown and my grandchildren are healthy and happy. My wife and I are celebrating 14 years of marriage. We live in a house that we didn’t and don’t pay for. I’m 42 years old and retired: a Blue-Card carrying member of the no-longer-active-duty United States Military. I’d survived 11 Army years and a trip to Afghanistan and Iraq (I suspect that Army years may be different than civilian years, I’ll get around to it, I’m sure).

So somewhere on the other side of this whole thing, it sunk into me. I was, am retired. I mean, really retired, the kind that says it’s time to start planning vacations. Not “really well off: retired”, but the “I can work part time if needed: retired” and the “Just going to school allows to make enough money to be pretty comfortable: retired” along with the “I can develop this freelance business without fear of not eating: retired.” This was looking up for a boy who didn’t think he would, a young man who didn’t want to, see his 40^th birthday.

Then I realized one lucid day, full of brightness and clarity, that God had bought me to this place of promise so I could fulfill the promise that He had given me the forethought to make. It was about 9 years ahead of what I hoped would happen. It wasn’t in the place I had thought it would happen. It wasn’t in the circumstances I thought would happen. But I’m laughing, because it happened. He said it would happen, and by God, it did happen!

“What do you do for a living?” I guess I had to go through all of that for a few reasons, one being so that it wouldn’t be trite when I said this: I serve God. I do whatever we agree needs to be done, where I’m at.

So, right now, I’m a student, I teach Bible Study at our church (alongside my wife) and a computer course called “How Do I Turn This Thing On?!?” and I help with the publications in our church. I’m almost finished with a second Associate’s degree (in Networking, the first being Website Development and Management) and will continue onward for a Bachelor’s in Independent Studies.

My near-life goals are to obtain an RV and go on a mission trip to Haiti. I would love to relocate (chuckling… I was about to say retire!) to Alaska where I lived for 6 years, but don’t know how that will pan out. If the wife makes it to Alaska for Christmas to see the grandchildren, we will have a better picture. She followed me around in the Army for 11 years, so she gets the main vote for the next 11 years.

I have at least one, maybe two surgeries pending in the not-too-near future so after I lose the weight I gained and have both hips replaced, I can drive the RV and get to Haiti. Though occasionally in pain, I truly love my life and can truly appreciate and love God and His wisdom in what and how He did and does what He do. And I welcome the growth (rebirths as Gordon Atkinson puts it) to come.

“What do you do for a living? And do you see a good fit between your personality type and job?”

Oh, yes. It’s like this whole thing was made just for me.

What Do You Do For a Living? (Part 1)

“What do you do for a living? And do you see a good fit between your personality type and job?” asked Sam Van Eman, closing in a reply stemming from “Empathy on the-Rise: Bloggers Unite“.

The question tickled me when I first read it, but it slowly congealed into my first HighCallings Blog posting. My desire is that it will serve as an introduction and creative springboard.

In advance, I appreciate all of the things I will learn from your comments and prayers… -mh

“What do you do for a living?” A curiously thought provoking question, slightly different from, “What kind of work do you do?”.  To me, it’s worth a chuckle and a rewind.

I was saved when I went into the Army. Not because I went in, but I was saved 2 years before that. I promised God that once I retired, I would put my life to full time ministry. After 10 years, midway to my goal, my military career came to a screeching halt. In 2006, I returned from Iraq early because my wife needed a double-lung transplant.

I have to note here that I felt betrayed. I was at the height of my game with more recognition and accolades than ever in my entire life. And more were waiting to land. This was a surprising and welcome turnaround for the amount of disciplinary and other trouble I’d experienced early in my career and my extreme lack of accomplishment prior to the military.

But with that one phone call, I knew that my military life was over. Being deployed to Iraq was the make or break it point, and I just knew that God had handed this thing to me on a platter.

And then He took it away. Poof. Gone.

When I returned from Iraq to our home base in Alaska, nothing we tried seemed to work. My wife needed the double lung transplant, but we weren’t getting anywhere on it.

Loss of career, pending loss of wife… I spiraled down, hard. I was skirting on the outward edges of a dark abyss I had been far too close to once before, and I was so tempted to just dive right in…

I picked up roughly 100 pounds in six months. That’s literal. I just didn’t care. Outwardly, I put as good a face on me as I could. Inwardly, I talked and the food listened. It said soothing things. It spoke peace in the midst of my storms. And it promised to always be there. It lied, of course, but I wanted the lie. So we got along just fine for a season.

In March of 2007, my wife checked into the hospital, and had no plans of checking out. She was there 36 days. The first 30 or so I was waiting for someone to die.

Upon reflection, she had to become “someone” because it hurts too much for it to be my wife in there. Gradually, the Lord spoke through my “be-wilderness”, and the perspective I had in dying was transformed into something that I could not only live with, but made me want to check out of here as well!

I understood, dimly at first, that she was in pain and we had run out of foreseeable options, needed a miracle. But more importantly, I learned that she was “on loan” to me and the rest of the world – which seemed to be part of her problem, everyone just pulls on her life so much – and she had done much for the Kingdom.

It was clearly, patiently and beautifully explained to me that If God wanted to call His precious daughter home to be with Him in a MUCH better place, then perhaps I could approach this with a little more grace, which he mercifully supplied. Outwardly I went from INdifferent to inDIFFERENT, the difference being peace and understanding.

About Day 30 of 36, she decided she wanted to live. So we bought her home from the hospital about a week later. There’s quite a story in there, but without at least 5 paragraphs (pages? A Book? Besides, she has to tell that story), I couldn’t touch that and do it homage. And it needs that, because it’s a mighty chapter in her life, wrestling with God.

Meanwhile, my own body continued its own spate of misbehaving – aided and abetted by my overconsumption and ailing joints – and I had to medically retire from the military.

(End Part 1)