One Fall from Being in Serious Trouble

My wife Jeanette has walked with a slight limp as long as I have known her. She has had joint issues that required her to exercise caution when moving about. For years some degree of numbness has been present in her hands and feet. Earlier attempts to identify and correct these matters were not successful. So, she learned to adapt, endure, and move forward without complaint. Her aches and pains have not stopped her from taking care of her home, serving as a pastor’s wife, being a denominational servant, or serving as a mission volunteer. But in recent years these issues have become more of a challenge. In the past two years her pain has been excruciating and her mobility has been limited. In the past year she has required a cane and then a walker to move around the house. The pandemic slowed the journey to discover the causes of these problems. Our efforts were further delayed by deaths in the family. But in the course of time, it was revealed that she had spinal stenosis in her lower back and neuropathy in her feet. Medications and physical therapy helped with the pain and enhanced her mobility to a degree but it was obvious that her problems were numerous and complicated. In January we had a consultation with a neurologist who did a thorough examination. He concurred that she had neuropathy in her legs and suffered from stenosis, but these things should not be causing the current level of weakness in her legs, her unnatural gait, enhanced reflexes, and the tingling and numbness in her feet and hands. He ordered a battery of blood test and though he was not convinced of the need for it, determined that an MRI of the neck should be performed. Within a couple of hours, we saw the results of the MRI on line. It revealed severe spinal stenosis in her neck at the C-4 ,5, and 6 area. That very afternoon the neurologist office secured an appointment with the neurosurgeon. The neurosurgeon showed us the MRI images and explained how the spinal stenosis was putting severe pressure on the spinal cord and that surgery to relieve that pressure was necessary. He did not promise that it would correct any of her existing problems but said the surgery needed to be done in order to prevent much more crippling effects.

Jeanette had surgery on February 15. The surgery went well. Later that day the surgeon’s physician assistant was visiting with Jeanette and in the course of conversation asked her “when was the last time you fell”? She replied that it had been 3-4 months. He said they could tell by the bruising on the spinal cord that she had endured a blunt force impact that likely had been caused by a fall. Then he said, “one more fall and you would have been in serious trouble”. When My wife relayed that story to me my soul cried and rejoiced at the same time. The Lord had been gracious, and she had been spared from severe physical injury. She is now recovering from the surgery, we have seen some positive results, and we await to see what the next steps of the journey might be.

But the words of the physician’s assistant keep ringing in my heart and mind “One more fall and you would have been in serious trouble”. There is a spiritual lesson in those words for us as a missionary people. Every day we encounter people who physically and spiritually are on the pericope of death and Hell. They are one fall from an irreversible eternal destiny. You and I stand before them with the healing gospel of the Great Physician. The saving power of the gospel is the only hope they have. We are the ones who must confront them with the truth about the severity of their predicament and we are the ones who must deliver the crucial plea for them to believe the gospel and come to faith Christ. The gospel may sound like foolishness to them, but “one more fall and they will be in serious trouble”.

Christmas in COVID Times

 

Midst efforts to resolve a viral pandemic

Causing global illness and death epidemic

As we process the merits of our heartfelt fears

Mixed with worry, doubt, dread, anger, and sometimes tears

Let’s not forget about the virgin who conceived

A child sent from God, so our sins could be relieved.

 

As we shelter in our places of seclusion

Where once welcomed visits are now an intrusion

As we inhale and exhale covered by our mask

While simple routines are now a cumbersome task

Let’s recall that to the virgin a child was born

Who would bring hope, joy, and peace to a world forlorn

 

When six feet apart striving for social distance

Has become the new normal of our existence

When our multiple efforts of sanitation

Instigates within us constant aggravation

Visit the manger, see Joseph and his betrothed

Gaze upon the child who in swaddling rags was clothed

 

When the news of more COVID cases scours the land

When the ones who govern hand down a new demand

When after each encounter we wash our hands clean

As we hope and pray each day for a new vaccine

Listen to the voices of the angelic throng

Announcing the Messiah’s presence in their song

 

As new stipulations create family strain

And events occur causing economic pain

When we come in close contact with those infected

Then obey rules of quarantine as directed

Let’s treasure the glorious news of a savior

Who came to remedy our sinful behavior

 

When we grieve a cherished friend or loved one who dies

And we can’t properly gather to say goodbyes

When we want to weep and give each other a hug

But we are restricted to a stare and a shrug

Let’s join the angels in praising the Prince of Peace

For in His grace and mercy we will find release

 

When each retail store bears the sign “masks are required”

And every adventure makes us tense and tired

When we learn that someone had a positive test

And we retreat to our homes for much needed rest

Let’s treasure Jesus, ponder His truth in our heart

With fresh faith in Him tomorrow a new day start

 

Midst our expressed concerns about the world’s future

Worrying that the wounds are too deep to suture

When mental anguish and fear are out of control

When encouraging words lack power to console

Recall that our purpose is to give Christ glory

And our mission is to propagate His story

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quinton Rutledge

Quinton Rutledge was in my 5^th grade class at Eastern Elementary School in Scott County, KY. Miss Carpenter was our teacher. I recollect that Quinton was slender and had brown wavy hair. He sat parallel to me in the row to my left. I remember him as being a quite person. I don’t recall him complaining about not feeling well. But one day he went home from school and had an appendicitis attack. They took him to the hospital but his appendix had ruptured and he died. He left school one day and the next morning we got the news that he was dead. You don’t get much school work accomplished after giving or receiving that kind of news. Quinton’s mother was the secretary at our school. So she had to come to work at the school where her son was supposed to be and watch the activity of other children and then go home without her son. Quinton’s father was a farmer. He had to work the fields around their farmstead with the constant reminder of the emptiness left by his absence. The school bus I rode went by the white two-story weather boarded house where Quinton lived.  Every day I would look at that house and sense the sadness and pain that surely dwelled within those walls. I listened to my own mother express sorrow for the family. Mother always shuddered when a family lost a child the same age as one of her own. That has been 48 years ago. But that is the kind of thing one does not easily forget.

There is a lot of pain and suffering in the world. I have been right in the middle of a lot of it. The longer I live and the more I see and the longer I reflect the more I am determined not to be involved in fussing about small things. There are too many important things and hurtful things that need my attention and emotion. I cannot solve all or even most of the problems I encounter. But I can soothe them. I can share the truth of God and exercise the love of God and pray for the power of God. And my feeble lips can deliver a word from God in the hope and belief that it will bring hope and comfort to tortured souls. Life is too short and often too tragic to do otherwise.

A Memorable Lord's Supper

We celebrated the Lord’s Supper last Sunday morning. We served the juice in cups made of olive wood that had been made in Bethlehem. I had bought the cups on my recent trip to Israel with the intent that after using them each partaker could take the cup home with them as a souvenir. It was a different experience with observations worthy of notice. We had filled the cups before the Sunday School hour. By the time we served the cup at the end of the worship time two and one-half hours had lapsed. When I stepped down from the platform to serve the Lord’s Supper I noticed that the olive wood cups had absorbed some of the juice. In fact a few of the cups had completely absorbed all the juice that had been poured into them. It occurred to me that as God’s chosen vessels we are to absorb Christ becoming more and more like Him each day. When we drank from the cup it tasted bitter. The fruit of the vine had taken on the flavor of olive wood. It reminded me of the bitter cup Christ had to drink in bearing our sin on the cross. From a different angle I thought of how the presence of Christ changes the flavor of our lives and how His love and mercy and grace and peace can change the flavor of the world. I thought of how Christ drank a bitter cup in order that the world might taste a sweeter cup. The folks took the now empty and juice saturated cups home with them. I took mine as well and sat it on my desk to dry. When it had dried it was left with a reddish stain. The stain reminds me of Christ’s mark upon our lives. For when we truly absorb Christ we are not the same. We have been changed. We are different. His mark is upon us. That mark is left to remind us of who we are. It is left to cause those whom we encounter to inquire about who we are.

A place of Clean Hands

A week before I was four years old my baby brother was born. While my mother was at the hospital I went to stay with my grandmother and grandfather Cloyd. They ran a dairy farm which meant there was plenty of dirt to play in. But having a great belief in cleanliness my grandmother scrubbed me up real good before they took me home. Honestly, you have never been scrubbed until you have been scrubbed by Ada Cloyd with a bar of lava soap. Upon my return home I discovered that my Aunt Zuma, Uncle John and their three children Rhonda, Richard, and Rozi had also come to inspect this new baby that had arrived in our family. My cousin Rozi, who was about two years older than me, for some reason was sitting beside the bassinette where my newborn brother lay. I went over to inspect this bundle of joy that everyone seemed in awe of. I reached out my hand to touch my baby brother only to be greeted with a sharp rebuke from my cousin Rozi. In a loud protective voice she shouted “Get your dirty hands off that baby”! I obeyed. I am certain I did not say a word but I remember processing in my mind that she surely has no idea about the cleansing experience I had just endured not more than an hour earlier. I have never forgotten that moment. Surely it is one of my earliest memories. As for Rozi, I suspect I was in my late teens when we last saw each other. I am glad we were able to reconnect via facebook about two years ago. About two weeks ago Rozi became ill and could not eat and grew weak. When she went to the hospital it was discovered that she had two tumors on her liver that had metastasized from other parts of her body. Her demise was quick. Her kidneys failed and by the time her sister, brother, and father got to her side she was basically unable to communicate. Death came painfully but quickly. Her family is left to weep even as they are grateful for a merciful end. I am weeping and praying with them. I am sorry it had to be this way. But let me give a personal word to Rozi: Thanks for a beautiful memory that has lingered with me for 52 years. I am sure there was a crowd to greet you when you passed through the heavenly gate. But be cautious lest you are tempted to go on hygiene patrol. Be assured that all the residents of heaven have clean hands.