BROKEN TO BE WHOLE

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith for the Years of Winter… ©

Our pastor decided that each Sunday during Lent, we need to have someone tell a story of how s/he met a faith trial. He asked me to start it off yesterday. He certainly tried my faith, by saying I had only “3 or 4 minutes.” For a preacher, that is agony. But I did it.

I don’t normally write anything down as I prepare to speak, for I figure if I can’t do my prep in my brain, I can’t expect listeners to comprehend with only their brains. I wrote it this time, though, so I could time it.

Here is what I said in worship yesterday:

I never expected to get cancer. My father was one of 7 children and my mother was one of 8. I have a thousand cousins. Never been cancer anywhere in that whole huge family. I lived a healthy lifestyle. Ate right. Ran marathons. Played third base. I was a preacher, for God’s sake. I didn’t get sick. I took care of other people who got sick. But the down-low pain wouldn’t go away, so on my birthday, at midnight, they took me into the operating room, and cut me open from Los Angeles to Boston. They took out a tumor and a third of my colon. Ever since I’ve been trying to learn the rules for how to use a semi-colon.

My first oncologist said I had one to two years. Two years sounded like so much more than one, and I desperately wanted that second year, because I had so much more I had to do.

I worked at it. I did chemo, for a whole year. I read that people who went to support group had a 50% better chance of getting well. I read that people who kept a journal of their feelings had a 50% better chance. I’m no dummy. That’s 100%. So I went to support group and kept a journal.

Annual Conference came, and I was talking to one of my children in the ministry. I have 23 children in the ministry. They say they became preachers because I made it look like fun. They all hate me. But Danny C0x was still talking to me, and when I told him about the cancer and all I was doing to get that second year, he said, “It sounds like you are having in-body experiences.”

I overheard the Gospel.

I realized why I had never been impressed by stories of out-of-body experiences. I was out of my body all the time. I was in the body of Christ, the church, trying to get it well. And in the body of the environment, and in the body politic, and in the body of my congregation, and… trying to heal every body but my own.

Our Gospel story this morning is about the temptations of Jesus. One of Satan’s temptations to Jesus was to be a Methodist. [The Greek is a little fuzzy there.] The quintessential Methodist temptation is to trust in salvation by doing. Jesus resisted that temptation better than I did. I was a good Methodist. I was fine as a human doing, not so good as a human being.

Brother Antoninus, the Dominican poet, says, “Our wounds are the apertures into which God’s grace is poured.” So it was for me. It was the breaking of my body that opened me up so that I could believe for myself what I had been preaching to others all those years, about the grace of God, about God loving us as we are. It was the breaking that made wholeness possible.

I once had a wonderful visitation minister on staff, Max White. When it was Max’s turn to give the pastoral prayer on Sunday morning, he always prayed, “Bless those of us assembled here.” I got goosebumps every time he prayed it, with that wonderful double meaning, not just those of brought together here as a congregation, from diverse lives and places, but those of us who are being put together in ourselves here, who have brought out broken pieces here so we can be reassembled in wholeness.

The issue wasn’t one year or two. The number of years made no difference if I only got a cure. Cure is great, but we all die. There comes a time when there is no cure. But there is never a time when healing is not possible. I realized I could be healed, even if I didn’t get cured.

God uses broken things. The chick can’t get out of the egg until the shell is broken. The atom cannot release its amazing energy until it is split. It is in the breaking of the bread that we can share in the Body of Christ. Whenever God sees brokenness— broken heart, broken spirit, broken mind, broken body—God sees that as an opportunity to help us become human beings instead of human doings.

That was 26 years ago, and under the circumstances, I feel pretty good. I feel broken, and I feel whole.

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

If you want the 300 page version of this instead of the 3 minute version, you can read NOW THAT I HAVE CANCER I AM WHOLE: Reflections on Life and Healing for Cancer Patients and Those Who Love Them. It is published, in two versions, by AndrewsMcMeel. Audio by HarperAudio. Czech and Japanese translations.

I tweet as yooper1721.

My new mystery/action novel, VETS, about four homeless and handicapped Iraqistan veterans accused of murdering a VAMC doctor, is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc. Use my full name when looking for it.

FOLLOW JESUS INTO THE WILDERNESS-a song

Christ In Winter: Reflections on Faith for the Years of Winter

This first Sunday of Lent, the Gospel story is about the temptations of Jesus while he was in the wilderness by himself, getting soul-ready for the task God had set before him. As I thought about that, this little song bubbled up in me. It’s not really a hymn for worship, but I think it would be a good camp song. I hear a tune for it in my head, but I can’t write music, so I can’t put it down. However, it’s so simple, you’ll probably come up with the same tune, or one like it, so that you can hum along…

Let’s follow Jesus…

Into the wilderness

Into the wilderness

Into the wilderness

Let’s follow Jesus

Into the wilderness

And get our souls healed there

Let’s follow Jesus …

Into the wilderness

Into the wilderness

Into the wilderness

Let’s follow Jesus

Into the wilderness

And face the devil there

Let’s follow Jesus…

Into the wilderness

Into the wilderness

Into the wilderness

Let’s follow Jesus

Into the wilderness

And his temptations share

Let’s follow Jesus…

Into the wilderness

Into the wilderness

Into the wilderness

Let’s follow Jesus

Into the wilderness

And get our souls healed there

JRMcF

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I tweet as yooper1721. [When I signed onto twitter, I was a Yooper, a denizen of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, and I thought I was supposed to have a twitter “handle,” and my phone # ended in 1721. Hence, yooper1721. I should change my twitter name to my own name, the way more tweeters do, but I don’t know how.]

Oh, good grief! I just realized that the tune I'm humming for this is Great Green Gobs of Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts! Well, it works...

WHATEVER KEEPS YOU SANE

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith for the Years of Winter… ©

Bryan Bowers, the great folk singer and Hall of Fame auto-harpist was in town to do a concert and we took him to lunch. Local therapist Deborah joined us at The Runcible Spoon. Whenever some strange or quirky behavior was mentioned, and there are plenty mentioned when Bryan is around, Deborah said, “Whatever keeps you sane.”

That, of course, is her job, keeping people sane.

No one really knows what sanity is. I think it is the ability to choose not to be stupid.

All of us teeter on the brink of insanity, because we walk so closely to the abyss of stupidity. I don’t mean absence of IQ, but absence of awareness. Most of us do stupid things not because we are evil—and there are exceptions, of course—but because we don’t think very long or very well before we act. We just don’t choose well.

In those times when I am sane, it is because I have learned from others how to make good choices.

Sanity is not behaving like everyone else. In fact, it is often the exact opposite, the ability to choose the right way when all around us are running thoughtlessly in the wrong direction.

Whatever keeps you sane… Other people can drive you crazy, but the right ones can keep you sane.

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I tweet as yooper1721.

"I ALWAYS GOT WHAT I WANTED"

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith for the Years of Winter… ©

A number of years ago, a man came to see me at my office. I was not his pastor, but he was lonely, and he wanted someone to talk to. He was lonely because he was thrice divorced. As he talked about his former wives, he said, proudly, “Those marriages didn’t last, but I always got my way. I always got what I wanted.”

“Did you love any of those women?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I loved them all.”

“Then you didn’t get your way, didn’t get what you wanted, did you?” I said.

That’s not good counseling, but I had given up trying to be a good counselor by then. I told people ahead of time that I would listen to them, but they would have to listen to me, too. Sometimes that approach worked.

I wish I could use it on current politicians, although I doubt that it would work. The hypocritical crassness of politicians is overwhelming.

I think about that most recently in terms of the Flint water crisis. The members of Congress who voted against providing any relief for the people of Flint, on the basis that it would cost too much, and that meant higher taxes, have all taken relief funds for their states and districts in time of need, regardless of how much it cost, and to hell with taxes. It’s a simple, “As long as I get mine, I don’t give a damn about you.” And every one of them claims to be a Christian. 

There is always corruption in politics, always compromise, always self-interest. But for any political body to work, there needs to be an awareness that honesty, resoluteness, and good-neighborliness have to be the primary qualities of the politics. Dishonesty has to be seen as an aberration, not the default setting.

These are not just political issues. They are civilization issues, moral issues, and certainly religious issues. The Ten Commandments, for instance, say a lot about honesty. So did Jesus, and more than any other issue except forgiveness, Jesus Christ talked about the misuse of money.

Since money has become the one and only standard of success in our society, however, using politics to gain money for one’s self and one’s group is the only standard of success in politics, especially among those who claim to be Christians. Not good government. Not patriotism. Not morality. Not neighborliness. Just money. And good government, patriotism [like taking care of veterans], morality, and neighborliness get in the way of grabbing money.

Consequently, the hypocritical crassness. Politicians know we know they are lying hypocrites, and they don’t care, for they know as long as they have more money than anyone else, they can use their lies to keep on getting elected. They will repeat their lies with a straight face over and over.

They don’t care if we know they are dishonest, lying, corrupt and hypocritical, because they always get their way, they always get what they want.

John Robert McFarland

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I started this blog several years ago, when we followed the grandchildren to the “place of winter,” Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula [The UP]. I put that in the sub-title, Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.] The grandchildren, though, are grown up, so in May, 2015 we moved “home,” to Bloomington, IN, where we met and married. It’s not a “place of winter,” but we are still in winter years of the life cycle, so I am still trying to understand what it means to be a follower of Christ in winter…

I tweet as yooper1721.

My new novel is VETS, about four homeless Iraqistan veterans accused of murdering a VA doctor, is available from your local independent book store, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, BOKO, Books-A-Million, Black Opal Books, and almost any place else that sells books. $12.99 for paperback, and $3.99 for ebook. Free if you can get your library to buy one.

WHAT "CHRISTIAN NATION" MEANS

Christ In Winter: Reflections on Faith for the Years of Winter

I think it is quite clear that the USA was founded on Christian principles. That does not mean, though, that the writers of the Constitution intended to create a Christian nation.

When Moses Seixas wrote to George Washington and asked if the First Amendment meant Jews would be tolerated in the new nation, Washington replied, No. Jews would not be tolerated. Tolerance meant that a majority group would put up with a minority group. The First Amendment meant not that Jews would be tolerated, but that they would be free, in the same way any other citizen was free. Any citizen of any religion, or none, had the same rights as any other. [1]

That is a Christian principle. All people have total worth in the eyes of God, and each person is to be treated as a child of God. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Not “Do unto CHRISTIANS…” but “Do unto OTHERS…”

The fact that the US is founded on Christian principles does not mean that we are “a Christian nation.” It means the exact opposite.

Being a Christian nation, as currently defined in political rhetoric means either that all citizens must be Christian, or that Christians are the majority group and may, or may not, put up,  with non-Christians, may or may not “tolerate” them.

Strangely, people who champion the Christian nation idea refer to themselves often as “strict constitutional Constructionists” who believe in “the original intent of the Constitution writers.” They seem to think that they know the intent of the Constitution writers better than George Washington did.

JRMcF

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

1] From Sarah Vowell, LAFAYETTE N THE SOMEWHAT UNITED STATES, p. 266 in the LP edition.

I tweet as yooper1721.

Am I The Only One--a poem

Christ In Winter: Reflections on Faith for the Years of Winter

As the only scholar in a barbarian

land must feel when the theorem

proves,

     “Am I the only one

       in the world who knows

        this truth?”

and puts aside

the stub of chalk and rubs

away the evidence of thought,

so much distrusted

in that land, I wonder

as I gaze upon my own equation,

if I am the only one who sees

that this punctiliar x

does equal that peculiar y.

JRMcF

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I tweet as yooper1721. 

HOLDING WALTER PAYTON'S HAND

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith for the Years of Winter… ©

Bob and I watched the Super Bowl last night. Kathy and Helen talked in another room until the fourth quarter. Whenever I watch the Super Bowl, I think of Walter Payton, and whenever I think of Walter, I remember him holding hands with Helen.

I watched a “30 for 30” show on ESPN yesterday about the 1985 Chicago Bears super bowl team. Walter Payton was disappointed after the game because, even though he led the team in scoring all year, Coach Ditka never called for him to get to score one of their many touchdowns in the Super Bowl win over the Patriots. Ditka knew the Patriots would have to focus on Walter. They did. It made it easy for others, including “The Fridge,” of all people, to score. The Bears won all year because of Walter, and they won the Super Bowl because of Walter, but as a decoy, and he was bitterly disappointed that he was not used in the way he thought fitting for the best running back in the history of football.

So I’m glad he got to hold hands with Helen on Springfield Avenue in front of daughter Mary Beth’s house in Champaign, IL during that Hands Across America event in 1986. Why he came to Champaign for that event, or why he chose West Springfield Ave., of all the places he could have stood, I don’t know. But when we walked out of her house and across the street to join hands for 15 minutes with 6.5 others across the continental US, there was Walter. “Take his hand,” I whispered to Helen. She did. She didn’t know who he was.

So soon after his Super Bowl disappointment, it must have been very healing for Walter to hold hands with Helen. I know it always is for me.

When Walter died so young from a rare liver disease only ten years later, I hoped he remembered that healing hand. We need a hand to hold when we are hurting, and when we are dying. It doesn’t necessarily have to be one right there, though. A hand in memory is good, and even one over the phone.

My colleague Lee’s wife, Theda, took a long time to die. They lived in a small town, a long way from the hospital or doctor. One afternoon Lee realized it was different. He called the doctor and described what was happening. “She’s dying right now,” the doctor said. “What should I do?” Lee asked. “You hold her hand,” the doctor said, “and I’ll stay on the phone with you and hold yours.”

We need a hand when hurting. The good news is that a hand is always there. Sometimes in person. Often in memory. Always in spirit.

In the words of Gene MacLellan’s song that became a hit for Anne Murray and for Ocean. “Put your hand in the hand of the man from Galilee…”

 JRMcF

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I tweet as yooper1721.