Christ is in the details…
It is time; This essay is long overdue.
The photo that you are seeing is real. This is my brother and me from 1977 at Sears Photo Studio. Christopher was born in 1973. I was born in 1976. He was my brother, and the two of us seemed to be inseparable. My sister, Sharon, was born in 1978. And my brother Joshua was born in 1993.
This summer, I have been grieving the loss of my brother in 2015. He died at the age of 42. Our relationship was, at best, fenced. Some circumstances happened that were out of my control. For this essay, all you need to know is that there were times we were best friends and other times we couldn't stand one another. However, we were raised by my parents to love one another even in the worst of times. As a Christian and pastor, for most of my life, I got it wrong. I was harsh and judgmental over things that were not in his or my control, and I was convinced I did nothing wrong.
1998, I graduated from Ashland University; my brother came with my sister, my little brother Joshua, and my parents. I remember this: He wore a gray Sharkskin suit. He looked the part. His college career wasn't successful at that time. After graduation, we gathered in the upper convocation center for a meal. He put his arms around me and told me how excited he was for the future. I was 22 years old, and I knew everything. There was nothing that anybody could say to me about life. The truth is I knew nothing. I went to college for four years, ate prepared meals, and worked a part-time job. I was, and I was in the middle of alcoholism and depression.
In the years following college, I would move to California, come home to my parent's house, and return to Ashland, OH, where I would enter a Master of Education program. I worked at Richland County Children's Services and then quit my job and the Master of Education program to attend Ashland Theological Seminary and become a Christian counselor. Oh, did I mention that in my first semester, I fell in love with a woman with two children, broke up with her a few months later, quit seminary, and traveled back home to my parent's house again? I had nothing under control. I was so out of control that I did not know who for what I was.
I lived in my parent's basement and went to work in and day out. I promised God I would not leave home again until God directed me. That year and a half was the toughest of my life.
In January of 2001, I met my wife again. We had met when she was 17 in 1997, and we tried to have a relationship, but I was not ready. I was holding out for someone better, but God had already placed her in my path. For the next four years, I would spend my life my way and drinking at any cost to soothe my depression, anger, and rage against things that were out of my brother's control. I saw myself as righteous and justified to feel this way. The reality is this: I had sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. I did not know where I was going or how I would return to the way things used to be. The truth was that the way things used to be all that great. After college, all my friends went off to their own lives. I was stuck with four years of memories and no direction of where I was going or wanted to be. This was a tough time.
My wife Mary was more than faithful. I found out after we got married that she had filled boxes with her journals —prayer journals. When I asked her about them, she said that she had been praying for me for the past four years. She told me that she prayed that God would give me to her or quiet the desire in her heart to be married. I remember being in our first Parsonage and hearing that news. I began to cry. Mary taught me about persistence in prayer that day and not letting go of what you are asking of God. It took Mary and me four years to unite us for the work we now do in ministry. Mary has found her place working in the Episcopal office, and I have found mine as a prophetic preacher and provisional elder at the United Methodist Church.
My sponsor in the recovery program told me this summer that I had entered the second phase of recovery. Finally, it only took two strokes and totaling a minivan to bring about these changes in me. I wish I had not waited so long to make it, but with those changes, I believe that God has worked in me through and despite me all my life. It is not something I did or deserve, but God's prevenient grace has paved the road before me. One of my best friends told me this week, "It's hard to see your feet when you're on your knees." More valid words have never been spoken. The image continually comes to mind as being led to a stream of cool water. I kneel, cut the water with my hands, and bring it to my weary face. When I look up, I see Jesus, and he takes me by the hand through the waters and onto the promised land.
OK, I have no idea when that will happen or if it has happened many times, and now I am just realizing it. What I believe is this: we are nurtured in the water of our mother's womb, we are baptized with refreshing waters, and through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are sent out to do the work God has called us to. However, we cannot do that work if we are not willing to be changed. I can see all this now as God's plan.
Trying to put all the pieces together was damn near impossible. You might say that I fought God every step of the way.
The last time I had the opportunity to share Holy Communion with Christopher was at my renewal of wedding vows in 2011. I was angry because he, my sister, my brother Joshua, and my parents showed up late; they were late. But my family came through the communion line, and I said the words as I shared the bread and said, "The body of Christ is broken for you. As she held the chalice, Mary reminded them, "Blood of Christ is shed for you."
More valid words have never been more right at that moment.
I am reminded of the story of John and Charles Wesley, who fought over John's boldness to ordain Francis Asbury and Thomas Coke. Charles was furious with John and questioned whether he had the authority to do this act. They fought long and did not speak for a year or two. Sometime later, they were both in London in church where Holy Communion was being shared. John and Charles did not know that the other was present. The preacher at that service went on about the importance of forgiveness of one another in God's power for the redemption of relationships. John and Charles met in the communion line, broke bread, and embraced.
One of the things that I am continually learning is that being right is not righteousness. It is dangerous to think that we are righteous just because we are convinced that we are correct. In the Apostle Paul's letter to the Romans, 3:23 reminds us, "All have fallen short of the glory of God," that even means me. I can no longer put myself as important or better than my brother Christopher. I lost a lot of years with him in anger and hatred for things that had been done. Things he had no control over. And I never appreciated the moments when he shared grace words with me.
My mother told me that as he entered the hospital emergency room, he was praying to God. He was praying for God to heal him and for me, my brother Joshua, my sister, Mom, and Dad. Something changed in him, and I can only believe it was the power of God.
There were three times I served him Holy Communion: once on our wedding day, on Christmas Eve, and at the renewal of our wedding vows. Something inside of him changed; the light of Christ was shining. As he faced his last days, his thoughts were only of his family. And that's something I have to hold on to. The picture that you're seeing is a picture that was given to me by my mother this week. I haven't seen that photo in thirty-five years. But just because I haven't seen it doesn't mean that that moment didn't happen. Christ is in the details of my family through all of our experiences. Christ's prevenient grace continues to bring us to the calm waters. Now more than ever, with the loss of my father and brother, we need those quiet waters. We need to look up and see Jesus, take his hand, and let him through the waters of life. In this season of recovery, I have learned that sometimes the seas are smooth and calm, and other times the waters are at flood stage. I am also reminded that Jesus walked on water that wasn't so calm and called Peter to come to him. We all know what happened; Peter looked around and let fear enter his heart. Peter sank into the waters and cried out to Jesus. Jesus picked him up and brought him into the boat. I have always struggled with his words to Peter: "You of little faith, why did you doubt?" I have always seen this as a condemnation of Peter, but these words are words of grace. They are words that mark the human condition; we see Jesus, look around at all of life's circumstances, and question our faith. We ask for the existence of God and the grace of God.
In my recovery community, there is an expression, "Therefore, but the grace of God goes I." I finally know what that means. It is not about me. It is about God and what God does in us, through us, and sometimes despite us. None of us can escape God's plan, and in every lesson, we learn, there is hope that we have the propensity to change, change in the grace of God, and become refreshed. I woke up this morning at 3:30, dreaming about that day at Sears Photo Studio. All I remember is that there was laughter and fun. I don't want to forget that it is one of my best memories, and I will hold on to it until the day we meet with Christ.
Edited 10-16-2024
Comentários