It's already been about a year ago now that the global Church came together and discussed, debated and deliberated about critical issues of our day. I can't believe it's been that long already. Certainly, we've gotten emails, FB posts and twitter feeds reminding us of where we've come from and where we are at today. Certainly, it is equally amazing (some movements of God around the world, including the Arab Spring, have been awe-inspiring), and equally tragic (several delegates present in South Africa have subsequently been martyred) as to what happens in a year. Incidentally, in larger society, many other things have also occurred - a quirky example of that was how the world was apparently supposed to end -twice!- over the past year.
It's a funny place to look back. I think, had I known that this is where I'd be at this point, I think I would have been incredibly reluctant to go. I think I would not have been totally thrilled with the description, in the mindset that I was in, of what I'd be doing, thinking, feeling, being by this point.
On the other hand, having had to go through it anyways, it's been stretching. I think the enlargement of the territory that God has demonstrated His sovereignty over, despite my biases and prejudices, has been good. I think it's still a journey of watching how my biases limit God. I think it's been good to be with people, that likely with all the brainwashing, that even a few years ago I would have been uncomfortable sitting in the same room with. I think it has been good to be reminded, and not just to 'talk' about it theoretically, but to actually 'be', with the many of those who will be called to the wedding banquet table, when those who were "expected" to be there will disinvite themselves, or be cast out. I think it's been good to remember to try to stay humble, to poke at my blindspots, to remind myself that I am not God and I am not the only one privy to His thoughts. I am thankful for those who have been walking with me along the journey, for those who have walked partway along the way, for those who stand by the roadside and point out directions, for the 'innkeepers' who have invited me in for refreshment, for those journeymen and women who have been joining the path this past year. It is good to be reminded that His people are all over and they are more and do more than I could ask or imagine...
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
FFT
Vicarious Wounds
"Maybe no one had thought of it," he said. "Or maybe they had, but didn't want to say it. Whatever the reason, no one warned me about the pain medicine inflicts." he reflected.
It had crept up on him over time, this sadness. The product of his compassion; this despondency oppressed his every day.
"I thought I'd save lives and help people; that I'd feel great about my work," he lamented.
Instead, his patients' sadness, their despair, their suffering and their remorse lived within him. Concentrated in his soul. Poisoned his spirit.
Empathy can be a double-edged sword.
"Talk to someone, they say..." he snickered with irony.
"Useless solution," he answered himself with disdain.
"How can anyone understand what I feel?" he cried.
"Can you really describe to anyone the silence in the room, as a woman, exhausted, pushes to deliver what she knows is a dead baby? Or the sorrow in her eyes when she sees his macerated skin? How do I convey the apprehension I felt when I closed the door after I wheeled a toddler into a fridge for the night? Will anyone stay awake like I did, thinking of his mother imagining her baby; alone, cold and in the dark, without his blankie? How do you describe your shock, at the unnatural coldness of a body at autopsy? Can anyone even imagine trying to work, distracted by visions of your own child, cut from neck to pubis under the glare of police flashes? Can you imagine my unease, knowing that beneath that pretty dress, her organs are unceremoniously stuffed inside a garbage bag and hidden in her chest; sewn with cotton string? Can someone really feel the gruesome shock I felt when I took off the stiff collar on that little boy whose broken neck gave way under the weight of his head, spilling a mouthful of blood onto my shoes?"
So much resentment. So much grief. A litany of examples. I listened.
"That's not what I signed up," he whispered, pressing his hands to his temples, as if to prevent his head from bursting.
"Can anyone understand the dryness of my mouth the first time I had to tell someone their husband had died? Can someone ever be as nauseous as I am every time I hear the music that played in that child's room the evening he died? Can anybody understand what it means to be unable to erase the skeletal face of the boy I watched take two agonizing weeks to die after we stopped his fluids? And what would that mother say, serene in her gift of vision, if she saw how corneas are actually harvested? Shame on me for jumping on the learning experience!"
I didn't tell him, but he was sharing. Finally, after years of amassing pain, he was sharing; paving the way to his own recovery.
Medicine provides a privileged glimpse into the most tragic hours of humanity. Quietly, stealthily, we accumulate hundreds of lives' worth of sorrow into our own; seeing, hearing, smelling and feeling death like no other. Indeed, no one can understand or experience death like we do.
Perhaps, it is the pound of flesh we owe for the privilege of sharing a father's joy as he cuts his newborn's umbilical cord.
Perhaps it is the price of the tearful gratitude of the mother whose child you resuscitated.
Perhaps it is what we must bear in exchange for the satisfaction of having relieved an old man's pain.
Vicariously, we suffer. But perhaps, just perhaps, it is what distinguishes the healers from the doctors.
-Dr. Steven Bellemare
"Maybe no one had thought of it," he said. "Or maybe they had, but didn't want to say it. Whatever the reason, no one warned me about the pain medicine inflicts." he reflected.
It had crept up on him over time, this sadness. The product of his compassion; this despondency oppressed his every day.
"I thought I'd save lives and help people; that I'd feel great about my work," he lamented.
Instead, his patients' sadness, their despair, their suffering and their remorse lived within him. Concentrated in his soul. Poisoned his spirit.
Empathy can be a double-edged sword.
"Talk to someone, they say..." he snickered with irony.
"Useless solution," he answered himself with disdain.
"How can anyone understand what I feel?" he cried.
"Can you really describe to anyone the silence in the room, as a woman, exhausted, pushes to deliver what she knows is a dead baby? Or the sorrow in her eyes when she sees his macerated skin? How do I convey the apprehension I felt when I closed the door after I wheeled a toddler into a fridge for the night? Will anyone stay awake like I did, thinking of his mother imagining her baby; alone, cold and in the dark, without his blankie? How do you describe your shock, at the unnatural coldness of a body at autopsy? Can anyone even imagine trying to work, distracted by visions of your own child, cut from neck to pubis under the glare of police flashes? Can you imagine my unease, knowing that beneath that pretty dress, her organs are unceremoniously stuffed inside a garbage bag and hidden in her chest; sewn with cotton string? Can someone really feel the gruesome shock I felt when I took off the stiff collar on that little boy whose broken neck gave way under the weight of his head, spilling a mouthful of blood onto my shoes?"
So much resentment. So much grief. A litany of examples. I listened.
"That's not what I signed up," he whispered, pressing his hands to his temples, as if to prevent his head from bursting.
"Can anyone understand the dryness of my mouth the first time I had to tell someone their husband had died? Can someone ever be as nauseous as I am every time I hear the music that played in that child's room the evening he died? Can anybody understand what it means to be unable to erase the skeletal face of the boy I watched take two agonizing weeks to die after we stopped his fluids? And what would that mother say, serene in her gift of vision, if she saw how corneas are actually harvested? Shame on me for jumping on the learning experience!"
I didn't tell him, but he was sharing. Finally, after years of amassing pain, he was sharing; paving the way to his own recovery.
Medicine provides a privileged glimpse into the most tragic hours of humanity. Quietly, stealthily, we accumulate hundreds of lives' worth of sorrow into our own; seeing, hearing, smelling and feeling death like no other. Indeed, no one can understand or experience death like we do.
Perhaps, it is the pound of flesh we owe for the privilege of sharing a father's joy as he cuts his newborn's umbilical cord.
Perhaps it is the price of the tearful gratitude of the mother whose child you resuscitated.
Perhaps it is what we must bear in exchange for the satisfaction of having relieved an old man's pain.
Vicariously, we suffer. But perhaps, just perhaps, it is what distinguishes the healers from the doctors.
-Dr. Steven Bellemare
Monday, October 10, 2011
I could make a bad pun here
I've been feeling fuzzy in the head for months now, and the clarity that is usually there is slightly out of focus. It's been a bit annoying.
Part of it is bias and experience, of course, contributed by the last few months. Usually, being able to see Kingdom with a clear eye and being able to declare it is supposed to be my gifting. That being said, the gifting is kind of not a big deal. People of our sort are simply saying what is true, what has been said before, and what people will continue to ignore. That's it.
I sometimes kind of wish it would be the determining the lottery numbers kind of thing instead. Then, I imagine, I would gradually win, over and over again, and give it all away to people in need and that's what I would do for a living. On the other hand, like most people, perhaps a feeling of avarice, fear and selfishness would take over and I'd buy ten iPads or something.
At any rate, I had to confess to a few people that I haven't been able to see as clearly for the last little while. Understandable. It's been distracting, maddening and heart-breaking all at the same time for the last little while. And, rarely are there baskets of figs, valleys of dry bones or overturned pots to look at. Sigh.
Part of it is bias and experience, of course, contributed by the last few months. Usually, being able to see Kingdom with a clear eye and being able to declare it is supposed to be my gifting. That being said, the gifting is kind of not a big deal. People of our sort are simply saying what is true, what has been said before, and what people will continue to ignore. That's it.
I sometimes kind of wish it would be the determining the lottery numbers kind of thing instead. Then, I imagine, I would gradually win, over and over again, and give it all away to people in need and that's what I would do for a living. On the other hand, like most people, perhaps a feeling of avarice, fear and selfishness would take over and I'd buy ten iPads or something.
At any rate, I had to confess to a few people that I haven't been able to see as clearly for the last little while. Understandable. It's been distracting, maddening and heart-breaking all at the same time for the last little while. And, rarely are there baskets of figs, valleys of dry bones or overturned pots to look at. Sigh.
Sunday, October 02, 2011
Epicness
Honestly, I don't think it would necessarily rate as 'epic' if it wasn't for all the ways that God showed His face, but 'epic' is what I will call this weekend. I'm tired as heck, but I think it has been well worthwhile.
One thing I realize is that, as a quote from CS Lewis, "The next best thing to being wise oneself is to live in a circle of those who are"... and I realize the more that I try to keep certain linkages, the more unwise I am being, and it brings up exasperation and prophetic despair at how terrible those linkages are, like chains that drag you deeper into the abyss, rather than freeing God to work....
At any rate, spent a good chunk of Saturday with a diverse group of Christians, all working to demonstrate the full gospel (like, really, the full gospel, not the 'four spiritual laws', not 'atonement theory', not 'justification'), in word and deed, here to those that we would generally not associate (or 'be') with. To struggle to figure out how we can speak to the Church about getting out of an 'us/them', serve the poor mentality, but to something greater than this. To see how God has worked in so many different nations, to see the world reflected in the faces around the room, for us to share our giftings in being strategic for the Kingdom - exciting! God demonstrated His face in the faces all around me.
To see a good friend do a kick-ass job at guiding us through prophetic visions of Isaiah, and having even myself gleaning more out of passages that I thought I was quite familiar with - that was exciting to watch her discipling and teaching us and truly being released to use her gifting to bless the Church! God working through her to demonstrate His voice and calling on our lives!
Wandered through Nuit Blanche, and totally blissed out by the creativity that this city holds. How much artists demonstrate and envision for us what our city could be, weaving dreams and potentials, if only we would see them.... God demonstrating the extent of His gift of creativity, of His gift of transformation and vision!
Worshipping alongside a very old friend (a kindergarten friend!), and then having lunch with a pastor, who wanted to know about how I saw how evangelism and mission could be transformed in the church today to make radical inroads into society.
Headed to the Slow Food Picnic, and reconnected with chefs and farmers that I had not seen for a while - it was good to talk about collaboration, and transformation and advocacy with them. It was exciting to develop new relationships with chefs that I totally admire for their vision and passion about making food an issue about justice, and talking about how justice drives what we do. To see how God works here, even if they themselves cannot name Him, at least not yet.
Headed to a international health and politics dinner, filled with frigging brilliant minds who are all visioning for a better world. Sat down with one guy, and we talked about God. He wondered what was up with all these missionaries coming to the developing world, and what was up with them. Explained both the incredibly bad way that we 'do' missions and the attitudes that we bring, and explained why, a lot of the time, this doesn't jive with the God who loves us through our brokenness, to the God who transforms the human heart, to the God who loves the littlest, the least, the last and the lost, to the Jesus-God-man who broke through and calls us to following Him into the Kingdom. Explained our issues in the Church, our very-hard-to-see motivations, and completely transformed his viewpoint of Christianity. Had spent much time overseas working and, with all of his encounters with Christian missionaries, had never had the gospel explained to him like that. Had never seen what we should be (though fail a lot at) like, and could see how God could work in the world in this way. Transformed his mind, though not his heart, and can only pray for him to reconsider Christ. That so blessed me out. God is here. Emmanuel. Praise be to Him through whom the whole world holds together, waiting with baited breath for His full glory...
One thing I realize is that, as a quote from CS Lewis, "The next best thing to being wise oneself is to live in a circle of those who are"... and I realize the more that I try to keep certain linkages, the more unwise I am being, and it brings up exasperation and prophetic despair at how terrible those linkages are, like chains that drag you deeper into the abyss, rather than freeing God to work....
At any rate, spent a good chunk of Saturday with a diverse group of Christians, all working to demonstrate the full gospel (like, really, the full gospel, not the 'four spiritual laws', not 'atonement theory', not 'justification'), in word and deed, here to those that we would generally not associate (or 'be') with. To struggle to figure out how we can speak to the Church about getting out of an 'us/them', serve the poor mentality, but to something greater than this. To see how God has worked in so many different nations, to see the world reflected in the faces around the room, for us to share our giftings in being strategic for the Kingdom - exciting! God demonstrated His face in the faces all around me.
To see a good friend do a kick-ass job at guiding us through prophetic visions of Isaiah, and having even myself gleaning more out of passages that I thought I was quite familiar with - that was exciting to watch her discipling and teaching us and truly being released to use her gifting to bless the Church! God working through her to demonstrate His voice and calling on our lives!
Wandered through Nuit Blanche, and totally blissed out by the creativity that this city holds. How much artists demonstrate and envision for us what our city could be, weaving dreams and potentials, if only we would see them.... God demonstrating the extent of His gift of creativity, of His gift of transformation and vision!
Worshipping alongside a very old friend (a kindergarten friend!), and then having lunch with a pastor, who wanted to know about how I saw how evangelism and mission could be transformed in the church today to make radical inroads into society.
Headed to the Slow Food Picnic, and reconnected with chefs and farmers that I had not seen for a while - it was good to talk about collaboration, and transformation and advocacy with them. It was exciting to develop new relationships with chefs that I totally admire for their vision and passion about making food an issue about justice, and talking about how justice drives what we do. To see how God works here, even if they themselves cannot name Him, at least not yet.
Headed to a international health and politics dinner, filled with frigging brilliant minds who are all visioning for a better world. Sat down with one guy, and we talked about God. He wondered what was up with all these missionaries coming to the developing world, and what was up with them. Explained both the incredibly bad way that we 'do' missions and the attitudes that we bring, and explained why, a lot of the time, this doesn't jive with the God who loves us through our brokenness, to the God who transforms the human heart, to the God who loves the littlest, the least, the last and the lost, to the Jesus-God-man who broke through and calls us to following Him into the Kingdom. Explained our issues in the Church, our very-hard-to-see motivations, and completely transformed his viewpoint of Christianity. Had spent much time overseas working and, with all of his encounters with Christian missionaries, had never had the gospel explained to him like that. Had never seen what we should be (though fail a lot at) like, and could see how God could work in the world in this way. Transformed his mind, though not his heart, and can only pray for him to reconsider Christ. That so blessed me out. God is here. Emmanuel. Praise be to Him through whom the whole world holds together, waiting with baited breath for His full glory...
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