Bob Rakestraw
I’m sick and tired of ugly—anything and everything ugly. I’m sick of violence, war, famine, human trafficking, disease, rape, materialism, injustice, idolatry, hunger, rage, lying, adultery, greed, loneliness, grief, self-hatred, addictions, corruption, senseless noise, and a thousand other evils!
For the last posting of this year I want to focus on beauty. The Oxford American Dictionary defines beauty first of all as “a combination of qualities that give pleasure to the sight or other senses or to the mind.” I believe there is more beauty than ugliness in our world, and I trust my reasoning will become evident in the thoughts to follow. Here are a few of my favorite beautiful things.
Christian Character. Other than God himself, a mature, wise, virtuous person, living in harmony with his or her Creator and Lord, is the most beautiful individual thing in the world. Nothing else that I know of meets so well the definition of beauty mentioned above.
Is there a man or woman you know—perhaps several—with such a sterling Christian character that you long to be around them, listen to them, and try to learn what makes them tick? This person, among other things, is unselfish, kind, and suffers well. He or she is concerned for children, teens, the differently-abled, the elderly, and “working” adults (what a strange term). The man or woman of deep Christian character has a beautiful soul. This person is not perfect—just beautiful! (I Cor. 13:4-8; Gal. 5:22-23)
Personal Relationships. Real beauty, flowing from the person of Christian character, can be seen when two or more such persons are living, working, discussing, studying, worshipping, playing, or serving others together. There is not a lot of beauty in the one, however appealing he or she may seem to be individually, who cannot exist in harmony with others. The home, the church, the school, the workplace, the playing field—these are the places where real beauty can shine. I love to see people in close friendships, strong marriages and effective working arrangements. This does not mean that there are never disagreements—sometimes vigorous ones—but that love and unity of purpose sustain the relationships for the good of all. (Ps. 133:1-3; Rom. 12: 9-18)
Loving Churches. At first I was inclined to write “vibrant” churches or “Spirit-filled” churches. As I thought about it, however, I realized that love (closely aligned with unity) is the true mark of a Christian and a Christian church. “They will know we are Christians by our love.” This is biblical (Jn. 13:35; I Cor. 13:3).
When the Pharisees asked Jesus “which is the greatest commandment in the Law” (they had 613 laws), Jesus said it was to “Love the Lord your God.” He then added the second most important: “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Mt. 22:34-40). Strong Christian individuals amid solid personal relationships and loving churches constitute a triad of beauty superior to every other created thing, including the choirs of angels and the wonders of nature. A loving church not only cares for its own but for those in its community, its country, and its world. Such churches consist of loving and humble Christians committed to promoting justice and mercy and the whole truth of God until the end of the ages. (Mic. 6:8; Mt. 28:18-20)
God. Above all else, there is God. Above all angels, natural wonders, creations of humankind, loving churches, strong relationships, and men and women of excellent Christian character, there is God. The reason Jesus said to love God above all else is because God IS above all else. To love anything else supremely is to love something less than God, and that is idolatry.
God has always existed and will forever exist as one God in three persons: Father, Son and Holy Spirit (Mt. 28:19; 2 Cor. 13:14). This is a great mystery, especially concerning the incarnation. The doctrine of the trinity is beyond our full logical comprehension but is not illogical.
The Bible also teaches that “God is love” (1 Jn. 4:8), but how can this be? Can this teaching assist us to understand the trinity? Some have suggested (helpfully, I believe) that God as a single person—a “monad”—could not give and receive love without an “other,” an object of that love. Thus the Godhead must exist as a “dyad” (two persons) at least. But in order for these two persons to have a nonexclusive love, a love that is shared, there must be at least a triad—a Trinity. God’s threefold eternal dance of love “within” the Godhead and “outside of” the Godhead is complete and perfect, and serves as the supreme model for all human love.
God is the only uncreated beauty. Although he is beautiful beyond description, we do well to ponder some of the qualities of our great God. Theologians often distinguish between God’s perfections in himself (such as eternity and omnipotence) and God’s perfections that extend to his personal creatures (such as mercy and justice). Sometimes these are called the non-moral and moral perfections (attributes) of God. To God, however, these are all one, and never conflict within themselves.
Lord, you are altogether lovely, and nothing I desire compares to you. Help me not to focus on the ugly in 2011, but on the beautiful. (Phil. 4:8)
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Heart Cries
Bob Rakestraw
In the United States, Thanksgiving Day was celebrated last week. Whether you live in the U.S. or in some other country on our common planet, I trust that you gave thanks to our gracious God for every blessing in your life.
I would like to use this brief posting to announce that my new book, “Heart Cries,” has just been released. I wrote this book, with the valuable help of my colleague and friend, Jane Spriggs, to encourage everyone to know God better through prayer. I have felt for years that misconceptions about God and his invitations to prayer have held back many people from the peaceful, joyful, confident life that God gives to those “praying by the Spirit in the midst of life” (the subtitle of the book).
Our desire in this book is to examine some basic biblical teachings about prayer, basic guidelines and approaches to prayer, and difficult questions about prayer, while devoting a major section of the book to actual prayers I have written and prayed over the past twenty-five years concerning some of the most crucial elements of life.
The book is grace-infused, not legalistic. I recommend it to you for your personal growth and comfort, as well as a gift book for those on your Christmas list. The cost is $13.99.
To order your copies please visit: www.createspace.com/900001812.
One more item: Jane and I, with our spouses, will be present at a book-signing for “Heart Cries” on Tuesday, December 7, 2010 from 12:00 – 1:00 pm. This will be at the Bethel Seminary Lower Campus Center, 3949 Bethel Drive, St. Paul, MN 55112. (It is actually in the city of Arden Hills, MN.) Please come if you are in the area and share with us some cider, cookies, candies, and conversation.
Lord, teach us to pray!
In the United States, Thanksgiving Day was celebrated last week. Whether you live in the U.S. or in some other country on our common planet, I trust that you gave thanks to our gracious God for every blessing in your life.
I would like to use this brief posting to announce that my new book, “Heart Cries,” has just been released. I wrote this book, with the valuable help of my colleague and friend, Jane Spriggs, to encourage everyone to know God better through prayer. I have felt for years that misconceptions about God and his invitations to prayer have held back many people from the peaceful, joyful, confident life that God gives to those “praying by the Spirit in the midst of life” (the subtitle of the book).
Our desire in this book is to examine some basic biblical teachings about prayer, basic guidelines and approaches to prayer, and difficult questions about prayer, while devoting a major section of the book to actual prayers I have written and prayed over the past twenty-five years concerning some of the most crucial elements of life.
The book is grace-infused, not legalistic. I recommend it to you for your personal growth and comfort, as well as a gift book for those on your Christmas list. The cost is $13.99.
To order your copies please visit: www.createspace.com/900001812.
One more item: Jane and I, with our spouses, will be present at a book-signing for “Heart Cries” on Tuesday, December 7, 2010 from 12:00 – 1:00 pm. This will be at the Bethel Seminary Lower Campus Center, 3949 Bethel Drive, St. Paul, MN 55112. (It is actually in the city of Arden Hills, MN.) Please come if you are in the area and share with us some cider, cookies, candies, and conversation.
Lord, teach us to pray!
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Is There Any Hope?
Bob Rakestraw
Is there any reason to be hopeful? About worldwide malnourishment and disease? About seemingly endless wars and rumors of wars? About human trafficking, bloody drug battles, and cruel white-collar crime?
Is there reason for hope in our own lives—our families, friends, frustrations, finances and futures? Feelings of failure and of being unpopular pull us down. Awareness of our own limitations—whether related to physical health and skills or mental and psychological conditions—leave us feeling sometimes with little or no hope.
The word “hope” may be either a noun or a verb. As a noun, hope can mean, in part, “a feeling of expectation and desire combined,” or “what one hopes for.” As a verb it can mean “to feel hope, to expect and desire, to feel fairly confident” (Oxford American Dictionary). Hope is a good word, and a very strengthening thought.
When I struggled with depression a couple of years ago, the word that most closely expressed the way I felt was “hopeless.” I knew that God was still holding me with his strong hand and would bring me to glory at the end of my earthly life. I felt hopeless, however, because my health was broken and I lacked the energy and the will to do anything that I thought would be of service to God or humanity. The complications from my heart transplant of 2003 had been (and still are) steadily worsening, and I felt gripped by that heavy, almost-tangible condition of hopelessness. I felt unable to move forward in any meaningful way since I retired from teaching in 2005, yet I could not die—what I most longed for.
At the present time I am writing on hope, not because I feel in an upbeat mood, but precisely because I do not. While the depression described above has lifted significantly, I still have times when the shadows come, because of both physical health issues (quite a medley) and the lack of meaningful activity due to those issues. I chose to write on hope now because I hope, God willing, to explain briefly the firm hope that God has engendered in me, even when I have felt hopeless about the circumstances of life.
I am convinced that there is hope for the mega issues of this world and human existence and hope for the matters of daily living. The latter are more short-range, while the former encompass the broad sweep of our earthly life, and beyond. At times I have lacked the short-range hope, but always have known the deep hope of God’s providential care for the poor in spirit in this life and in the life to come.
Both the long-range, big-picture view of life, and the more immediate aspects of our everyday tasks, may be intended in the life-giving words of Romans 5. After “we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand….we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us….” For 25 years or more I have had these words on a shelf by my desk at home, where I naturally rest my eyes: “Hope does not disappoint us” (Rom. 5:5).
How can we become hopeful people, both concerning the sorry state of this planet and concerning our present issues: health, relationships, careers, finances, moods, and service to God and others?
The scripture just quoted shows one major route by which we become people of hope: we must first be people of character, and for that we need to develop perseverance, which comes from—of all things—suffering! This is contrary to the world’s thinking, but here it is in God’s word: if we endure suffering well, we will become hopeful people. We will come to see the depths of God’s wisdom and love for us, and for all his creation. We are not to seek suffering, as though that would speed up our maturation. Enough suffering will come to us all, but never more than we are able to bear (I Cor. 10:13).
It is not possible to live well without hope. In fact, many who are hopeless decide not to live at all. They choose suicide, while others continue with lives of “quiet desperation.” I urge each of you to face your present sufferings well (“we…rejoice in our sufferings”), so that you will know the deep hope that God gives. I have learned from my sufferings over a lifetime that God can be trusted (faith). This has given me strong hope to go on in the service of God and all his people (love).
“Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality” (Rom. 12:11-13). Faith, hope and love to you all.
Is there any reason to be hopeful? About worldwide malnourishment and disease? About seemingly endless wars and rumors of wars? About human trafficking, bloody drug battles, and cruel white-collar crime?
Is there reason for hope in our own lives—our families, friends, frustrations, finances and futures? Feelings of failure and of being unpopular pull us down. Awareness of our own limitations—whether related to physical health and skills or mental and psychological conditions—leave us feeling sometimes with little or no hope.
The word “hope” may be either a noun or a verb. As a noun, hope can mean, in part, “a feeling of expectation and desire combined,” or “what one hopes for.” As a verb it can mean “to feel hope, to expect and desire, to feel fairly confident” (Oxford American Dictionary). Hope is a good word, and a very strengthening thought.
When I struggled with depression a couple of years ago, the word that most closely expressed the way I felt was “hopeless.” I knew that God was still holding me with his strong hand and would bring me to glory at the end of my earthly life. I felt hopeless, however, because my health was broken and I lacked the energy and the will to do anything that I thought would be of service to God or humanity. The complications from my heart transplant of 2003 had been (and still are) steadily worsening, and I felt gripped by that heavy, almost-tangible condition of hopelessness. I felt unable to move forward in any meaningful way since I retired from teaching in 2005, yet I could not die—what I most longed for.
At the present time I am writing on hope, not because I feel in an upbeat mood, but precisely because I do not. While the depression described above has lifted significantly, I still have times when the shadows come, because of both physical health issues (quite a medley) and the lack of meaningful activity due to those issues. I chose to write on hope now because I hope, God willing, to explain briefly the firm hope that God has engendered in me, even when I have felt hopeless about the circumstances of life.
I am convinced that there is hope for the mega issues of this world and human existence and hope for the matters of daily living. The latter are more short-range, while the former encompass the broad sweep of our earthly life, and beyond. At times I have lacked the short-range hope, but always have known the deep hope of God’s providential care for the poor in spirit in this life and in the life to come.
Both the long-range, big-picture view of life, and the more immediate aspects of our everyday tasks, may be intended in the life-giving words of Romans 5. After “we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand….we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us….” For 25 years or more I have had these words on a shelf by my desk at home, where I naturally rest my eyes: “Hope does not disappoint us” (Rom. 5:5).
How can we become hopeful people, both concerning the sorry state of this planet and concerning our present issues: health, relationships, careers, finances, moods, and service to God and others?
The scripture just quoted shows one major route by which we become people of hope: we must first be people of character, and for that we need to develop perseverance, which comes from—of all things—suffering! This is contrary to the world’s thinking, but here it is in God’s word: if we endure suffering well, we will become hopeful people. We will come to see the depths of God’s wisdom and love for us, and for all his creation. We are not to seek suffering, as though that would speed up our maturation. Enough suffering will come to us all, but never more than we are able to bear (I Cor. 10:13).
It is not possible to live well without hope. In fact, many who are hopeless decide not to live at all. They choose suicide, while others continue with lives of “quiet desperation.” I urge each of you to face your present sufferings well (“we…rejoice in our sufferings”), so that you will know the deep hope that God gives. I have learned from my sufferings over a lifetime that God can be trusted (faith). This has given me strong hope to go on in the service of God and all his people (love).
“Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality” (Rom. 12:11-13). Faith, hope and love to you all.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Why Know God?
Bob Rakestraw
Lately I have been thinking about the over six billion people on this planet. Actually, I think about them a lot, but even more so in recent weeks. I think about the people who walk on the sidewalk near my home and those living on rickety rafts and boat-houses on the rivers of southeast Asia. I think of young and old, male and female, poor and rich, healthy and unhealthy. Mostly I grieve over the billions who don’t know God.
I want them to know God. I want everyone to know God, for their good in both this life and the life to come. But why should they want to know God? Even if, as is the case, the overwhelming majority of this world’s population believes in some kind of a God or exalted being (or beings), why should they desire to know God, or even know about God, more than they do?
This line of thinking leads me to write about the central reasons why I long to know God more fully and more personally than I now do. These are not primarily reasons to know more about God, although this is an inseparable part of my lifetime quest. These are, above all, my reasons for knowing God experientially—personally and intimately.
First, I want to know God because, frankly, my friendship with him gives me the most enjoyable quality of life that I can imagine on this earth. I was born again into the family of God in 1962, and have not once regretted that I was drawn into the body of Christ by the gracious pull of the cross. It is literally impossible for me to conceive of a more personally satisfying relationship with anyone (or ones) other than the all-mighty, all-merciful, and all-holy God of the Hebrew-Christian scriptures.
I have not always had the degree of satisfaction in God that I now have. This has been a growing relationship over many years. I have failed the Lord many times during my journey, but this was never because he abandoned me. I have been the one who did not remain in close fellowship with God as I should have. Yet he has always brought me back to himself, leading me again and again to repentance and forgiveness and full acceptance as his loved child.
Another reason I want to know God more fully is to know what to do with the rest of my life. While I am writing this after the most active and public years of my Christian service are likely behind me, I still have some time remaining on earth, even if it’s only a short while. Even in these, my “retirement” years, I never have considered myself retired. In my view, God’s people don’t retire. We, by God’s grace, live everyday seeking to do God’s blessed will, just as we have before finishing our more formal work life.
Circumstances—health, finances, activities, places, people—may change, but life as a child of God continues. I seek God through prayer, meditation in the Word, interaction with others, acceptance of my gifts and ministry opportunities, and experimentation, just as I did before my major work responsibilities changed in 2005. In that year, for health reasons, I needed to retire early from my position as Professor of Theology at Bethel Seminary in St. Paul, MN. But I am continually seeking to know how to serve others with the remainder of my life and resources, and to stay on a meaningful, useful and Christ-centered course, I want to know God more and more so that I sense the direction he has for me. I have no desire to flounder and fumble along until the end of my life. I remind myself often of the words of the apostle Paul: “Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:58).
My final reason is a spinoff from the second, which is a spinoff from the first. I want to know God because I want to know, more and more, how he thinks, feels, and acts in this world, so that I may think, feel, and act like him. The longer I live the more saddened, as well as encouraged, I become over the condition of the peoples of the earth. I grieve and I rejoice; I scratch my head in bewilderment and I have glimpses of light and hope. I desire to know God so that I may—as much as is possible in this life—see the big picture of what God has been doing in this world since its beginning, what God is doing now, and what he has yet to come.
I do not wish to know these things for my own intellectual curiosity or psychological stability, or to feel closer to God. All of these are by-products of knowing God well, and we surely must be grateful for them. But I desire to know the big picture in light of God’s will so that I may be involved in his kingdom program as productively as possible. For example, since I know through the close reading of God’s Word, the Bible, that God longs for justice and mercy to prevail in this world, I want to give a portion of my energy and finances to strengthen those agencies that are concerned with these activities. I want to pray for and encourage those who are suffering and bowed down with care, because I see Jesus in the Gospels ministering compassionately to the hungry, the sick and the weary.
Here I close with two scriptures (NASB) that will encourage you and me to continue seeking to know God more and more all of our days on earth.
“Evil men do not understand justice, but those who seek the LORD understand all things” (Proverbs 28:5).
“The people who know their God will display strength and take action” (Daniel 11:32).
Lately I have been thinking about the over six billion people on this planet. Actually, I think about them a lot, but even more so in recent weeks. I think about the people who walk on the sidewalk near my home and those living on rickety rafts and boat-houses on the rivers of southeast Asia. I think of young and old, male and female, poor and rich, healthy and unhealthy. Mostly I grieve over the billions who don’t know God.
I want them to know God. I want everyone to know God, for their good in both this life and the life to come. But why should they want to know God? Even if, as is the case, the overwhelming majority of this world’s population believes in some kind of a God or exalted being (or beings), why should they desire to know God, or even know about God, more than they do?
This line of thinking leads me to write about the central reasons why I long to know God more fully and more personally than I now do. These are not primarily reasons to know more about God, although this is an inseparable part of my lifetime quest. These are, above all, my reasons for knowing God experientially—personally and intimately.
First, I want to know God because, frankly, my friendship with him gives me the most enjoyable quality of life that I can imagine on this earth. I was born again into the family of God in 1962, and have not once regretted that I was drawn into the body of Christ by the gracious pull of the cross. It is literally impossible for me to conceive of a more personally satisfying relationship with anyone (or ones) other than the all-mighty, all-merciful, and all-holy God of the Hebrew-Christian scriptures.
I have not always had the degree of satisfaction in God that I now have. This has been a growing relationship over many years. I have failed the Lord many times during my journey, but this was never because he abandoned me. I have been the one who did not remain in close fellowship with God as I should have. Yet he has always brought me back to himself, leading me again and again to repentance and forgiveness and full acceptance as his loved child.
Another reason I want to know God more fully is to know what to do with the rest of my life. While I am writing this after the most active and public years of my Christian service are likely behind me, I still have some time remaining on earth, even if it’s only a short while. Even in these, my “retirement” years, I never have considered myself retired. In my view, God’s people don’t retire. We, by God’s grace, live everyday seeking to do God’s blessed will, just as we have before finishing our more formal work life.
Circumstances—health, finances, activities, places, people—may change, but life as a child of God continues. I seek God through prayer, meditation in the Word, interaction with others, acceptance of my gifts and ministry opportunities, and experimentation, just as I did before my major work responsibilities changed in 2005. In that year, for health reasons, I needed to retire early from my position as Professor of Theology at Bethel Seminary in St. Paul, MN. But I am continually seeking to know how to serve others with the remainder of my life and resources, and to stay on a meaningful, useful and Christ-centered course, I want to know God more and more so that I sense the direction he has for me. I have no desire to flounder and fumble along until the end of my life. I remind myself often of the words of the apostle Paul: “Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:58).
My final reason is a spinoff from the second, which is a spinoff from the first. I want to know God because I want to know, more and more, how he thinks, feels, and acts in this world, so that I may think, feel, and act like him. The longer I live the more saddened, as well as encouraged, I become over the condition of the peoples of the earth. I grieve and I rejoice; I scratch my head in bewilderment and I have glimpses of light and hope. I desire to know God so that I may—as much as is possible in this life—see the big picture of what God has been doing in this world since its beginning, what God is doing now, and what he has yet to come.
I do not wish to know these things for my own intellectual curiosity or psychological stability, or to feel closer to God. All of these are by-products of knowing God well, and we surely must be grateful for them. But I desire to know the big picture in light of God’s will so that I may be involved in his kingdom program as productively as possible. For example, since I know through the close reading of God’s Word, the Bible, that God longs for justice and mercy to prevail in this world, I want to give a portion of my energy and finances to strengthen those agencies that are concerned with these activities. I want to pray for and encourage those who are suffering and bowed down with care, because I see Jesus in the Gospels ministering compassionately to the hungry, the sick and the weary.
Here I close with two scriptures (NASB) that will encourage you and me to continue seeking to know God more and more all of our days on earth.
“Evil men do not understand justice, but those who seek the LORD understand all things” (Proverbs 28:5).
“The people who know their God will display strength and take action” (Daniel 11:32).
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Ramblings from my Readings
Bob Rakestraw
Here are my thoughts on three of the books I completed reading from January through June, 2010. (Note: Please pray for my health. My heart transplant rejection leaves me with little strength for daily life and service. Thank you for caring.)
Walter Wangerin, Jr., Letters from the Land of Cancer. Grand Rapids, MI : Zondervan, 2010, 199pp., hardcover.
On December 26, 2005, the author felt a lump in his neck. It was diagnosed as lung cancer. Out of that crisis Wangerin began writing a series of letters to his family and friends about his unfolding experiences and his physical, psychological/spiritual responses to what was going on in his body, and to the medical treatments he was receiving. Here are those letters—22 of them—written in 2006 and 2007. Because of his fascinating writing style, but even more because of his frankness and specificity about his responses to his terminal illness, this will rightly be considered a classic in the autobiographical literature of suffering. It is valuable reading for everyone who suffers from a terminal illness and for those who live, pray for and seek to help such ones. Despite his acknowledged grumpiness and hurtfulness to others, Wangerin’s trust in Christ underlies the account, and leaves the reader with hope. (Note: a link to Walter Wangerin’s blog may be found on my blog’s introductory page.)
Lucien Stryk, Editor, The Gift of Great Poetry. Washington, D.C.: Regnery Gateway, 1992, 273 pp., hardcover.
It is hard to imagine a more delightful collection of poems in the English language, from the sixteenth to the early twentieth centuries. Stryk, a distinguished poet with over twenty books of poetry published since the 1950’s, has selected and introduced 130 poems by 130 poets, arranged in chronological order by the authors’ birthdates. You will find many well-known poems here, but also many lesser known. The editor, even when working with the likes of John Milton, John Greenleaf Whittier and Elizabeth Barrett Browning, selected only one poem from each author. Each poet, however illustrious, is represented only once. Stryk says that he did this “so as to represent all periods equally.” He adds: “I felt it to be my task to rescue from obscurity works generally ignored.” While this is not a book of “Christian poetry,” there are numerous pieces that will delight and animate the mind of anyone who loves God, language, and life.
E. Stanley Jones. Christ and Human Suffering. New York: Abingdon–Cokesbury, 1933, 235 pp., hardcover.
The course of my life in recent years, especially my health struggles, has moved me steadily toward the literature of suffering. I am especially drawn to materials written by those who have suffered and/or have spent much time among those who suffer. Jones (1884-1973), one of the best-known missionary evangelists in the world in the early and middle decades of the twentieth century, was a Methodist missionary to India. He first worked with lower-caste Indians, but gradually felt drawn to work with the educated higher castes, as well as student groups. In this valuable study the author presents the Christian way of victory in light of the terrible sufferings in the world. With numerous examples from his long ministry, and with careful consideration of several leading world religions (Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam especially), Jones presents the inherent fallacies within the other religions and the true worth and remarkable triumph over suffering through Jesus Christ. A very wise book from a wise and faithful missionary-writer. The initial in his name stands for Eli (in Hebrew, “my God”).
Here are my thoughts on three of the books I completed reading from January through June, 2010. (Note: Please pray for my health. My heart transplant rejection leaves me with little strength for daily life and service. Thank you for caring.)
Walter Wangerin, Jr., Letters from the Land of Cancer. Grand Rapids, MI : Zondervan, 2010, 199pp., hardcover.
On December 26, 2005, the author felt a lump in his neck. It was diagnosed as lung cancer. Out of that crisis Wangerin began writing a series of letters to his family and friends about his unfolding experiences and his physical, psychological/spiritual responses to what was going on in his body, and to the medical treatments he was receiving. Here are those letters—22 of them—written in 2006 and 2007. Because of his fascinating writing style, but even more because of his frankness and specificity about his responses to his terminal illness, this will rightly be considered a classic in the autobiographical literature of suffering. It is valuable reading for everyone who suffers from a terminal illness and for those who live, pray for and seek to help such ones. Despite his acknowledged grumpiness and hurtfulness to others, Wangerin’s trust in Christ underlies the account, and leaves the reader with hope. (Note: a link to Walter Wangerin’s blog may be found on my blog’s introductory page.)
Lucien Stryk, Editor, The Gift of Great Poetry. Washington, D.C.: Regnery Gateway, 1992, 273 pp., hardcover.
It is hard to imagine a more delightful collection of poems in the English language, from the sixteenth to the early twentieth centuries. Stryk, a distinguished poet with over twenty books of poetry published since the 1950’s, has selected and introduced 130 poems by 130 poets, arranged in chronological order by the authors’ birthdates. You will find many well-known poems here, but also many lesser known. The editor, even when working with the likes of John Milton, John Greenleaf Whittier and Elizabeth Barrett Browning, selected only one poem from each author. Each poet, however illustrious, is represented only once. Stryk says that he did this “so as to represent all periods equally.” He adds: “I felt it to be my task to rescue from obscurity works generally ignored.” While this is not a book of “Christian poetry,” there are numerous pieces that will delight and animate the mind of anyone who loves God, language, and life.
E. Stanley Jones. Christ and Human Suffering. New York: Abingdon–Cokesbury, 1933, 235 pp., hardcover.
The course of my life in recent years, especially my health struggles, has moved me steadily toward the literature of suffering. I am especially drawn to materials written by those who have suffered and/or have spent much time among those who suffer. Jones (1884-1973), one of the best-known missionary evangelists in the world in the early and middle decades of the twentieth century, was a Methodist missionary to India. He first worked with lower-caste Indians, but gradually felt drawn to work with the educated higher castes, as well as student groups. In this valuable study the author presents the Christian way of victory in light of the terrible sufferings in the world. With numerous examples from his long ministry, and with careful consideration of several leading world religions (Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam especially), Jones presents the inherent fallacies within the other religions and the true worth and remarkable triumph over suffering through Jesus Christ. A very wise book from a wise and faithful missionary-writer. The initial in his name stands for Eli (in Hebrew, “my God”).
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Earthly Life
Bob Rakestraw
Years ago a Canadian singer, Anne Murray, sang these words in one of her numbers: “Sure could use a little good news today.” Well, I want to give out some good news today: attitude-wise, I am doing much better than I have in many months, perhaps years. I am reluctant to call this a strictly psychological change or a strictly spiritual change. I don’t think the two can be neatly separated, because mind-body-soul-spirit-emotions are all intertwined and overlapping. We are instructed in the scriptures to “love God with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength,” meaning with all of our being, everything in us and everything we have. We are unified selves.
It is evident, however, that one (or more) of these aspects (functions) of our single self may predominate in certain situations more than in others. A person trying to push a car out of a ditch uses brute strength, spurred on by a strong will, to get the job done. But, even then, the total self is engaged. It cannot be otherwise.
In my situation, as some of you know, I have struggled in an unusual way. Because my health has been poor since my heart transplant of 2003 (and for years before that) I have had a strong desire to leave this earthly life and be taken into God’s heavenly presence. Since March, 2007, after two doctors said I likely had no more than six months to live, this longing has intensified. It became so strong near the end of 2008 that I suffered a lot from depression and anxiety. I believe the cause, or a big part of the cause, was that, although my health continued to decline, God was not taking me home. My longing for heaven—normally a healthy thing for the children of God—had become unhealthy. I did not want to go on living. I asked God numerous times to end my life.
After a crisis experience on January 1, 2009, I called for the elders of the church to come and pray for me, according to James 5. Then I went to a doctor who provided me with some helpful medications. During 2009 I improved gradually in my overall attitude toward life and death, but it has not been until the last month or so that I’ve come to realize that a major change has come over me. I can’t say just when this happened or point to anything different in my prayer life or daily routine. I just know that God has done a very good work in me, for which I am thankful.
Before this major turn in my life I had no desire to live, whereas since the God-wrought change, I am now willing to live to be 90, if God so wills. I hope I don’t, and I still long to go home sooner rather than later, but this new acceptance of life has improved my attitude and sense of daily well-being. Before this change, I wasn’t conscious of having a bad attitude toward God. After all, I wanted to go be with him forever. But I had a negative attitude toward the earthly life God had assigned for me. Part of this was, no doubt, due to depression, and part was due to feelings of uselessness. I was wondering whether I was doing any good here on earth. I had to admit that if God still had me here, and if my attitude is one of joyful (yes!) acceptance of God’s will, then I am being useful for his eternal purposes. It was not enough to resign myself to living, but I needed to gladly, positively accept my state in life (James 1:2-4).
My physical health continues to decline noticeably, but my daily consciousness of God’s good pleasure and will have increased noticeably. I desire to spend the rest of my days simply living for God’s glory. I serve him as best I know how each day, but I can’t delve much into how I may be actually useful to others. More and more I seek to live moment-by-moment according to the Great Commandment: “Love the Lord your God with all of your heart, soul, mind and strength, and your neighbor as yourself.”
May God encourage and lead you continually according to your own life-experience in this earthly existence. I trust that my testimony will be helpful to many of you, my readers.
Years ago a Canadian singer, Anne Murray, sang these words in one of her numbers: “Sure could use a little good news today.” Well, I want to give out some good news today: attitude-wise, I am doing much better than I have in many months, perhaps years. I am reluctant to call this a strictly psychological change or a strictly spiritual change. I don’t think the two can be neatly separated, because mind-body-soul-spirit-emotions are all intertwined and overlapping. We are instructed in the scriptures to “love God with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength,” meaning with all of our being, everything in us and everything we have. We are unified selves.
It is evident, however, that one (or more) of these aspects (functions) of our single self may predominate in certain situations more than in others. A person trying to push a car out of a ditch uses brute strength, spurred on by a strong will, to get the job done. But, even then, the total self is engaged. It cannot be otherwise.
In my situation, as some of you know, I have struggled in an unusual way. Because my health has been poor since my heart transplant of 2003 (and for years before that) I have had a strong desire to leave this earthly life and be taken into God’s heavenly presence. Since March, 2007, after two doctors said I likely had no more than six months to live, this longing has intensified. It became so strong near the end of 2008 that I suffered a lot from depression and anxiety. I believe the cause, or a big part of the cause, was that, although my health continued to decline, God was not taking me home. My longing for heaven—normally a healthy thing for the children of God—had become unhealthy. I did not want to go on living. I asked God numerous times to end my life.
After a crisis experience on January 1, 2009, I called for the elders of the church to come and pray for me, according to James 5. Then I went to a doctor who provided me with some helpful medications. During 2009 I improved gradually in my overall attitude toward life and death, but it has not been until the last month or so that I’ve come to realize that a major change has come over me. I can’t say just when this happened or point to anything different in my prayer life or daily routine. I just know that God has done a very good work in me, for which I am thankful.
Before this major turn in my life I had no desire to live, whereas since the God-wrought change, I am now willing to live to be 90, if God so wills. I hope I don’t, and I still long to go home sooner rather than later, but this new acceptance of life has improved my attitude and sense of daily well-being. Before this change, I wasn’t conscious of having a bad attitude toward God. After all, I wanted to go be with him forever. But I had a negative attitude toward the earthly life God had assigned for me. Part of this was, no doubt, due to depression, and part was due to feelings of uselessness. I was wondering whether I was doing any good here on earth. I had to admit that if God still had me here, and if my attitude is one of joyful (yes!) acceptance of God’s will, then I am being useful for his eternal purposes. It was not enough to resign myself to living, but I needed to gladly, positively accept my state in life (James 1:2-4).
My physical health continues to decline noticeably, but my daily consciousness of God’s good pleasure and will have increased noticeably. I desire to spend the rest of my days simply living for God’s glory. I serve him as best I know how each day, but I can’t delve much into how I may be actually useful to others. More and more I seek to live moment-by-moment according to the Great Commandment: “Love the Lord your God with all of your heart, soul, mind and strength, and your neighbor as yourself.”
May God encourage and lead you continually according to your own life-experience in this earthly existence. I trust that my testimony will be helpful to many of you, my readers.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Protection, but not for the Neighbors?
Bob Rakestraw
Two families of five live side by side. The families are good friends and are active in the same church. A tornado strikes their town and, among other devastation, destroys the one family’s house and kills two of the family members. The house next door suffers a small amount of damage but no one is seriously hurt. An unusual scenario, for sure, but not at all impossible.
The survivors of the families live together in the intact house for a while, until the funerals are over and the uprooted family moves. The members of the relatively untouched home feel uncomfortable about thanking God for his protection, especially in the presence of the other family. Why was the other family not protected? How are they to think of God’s protection for some but not for others?
This issue leads to such doubt and confusion in the “safe” family that they stop thanking God for their protection from the tornado. They continue, however, praying for encouragement and provision for their former neighbors and their other neighbors who were also affected.
Should they avoid thanking God about the tornado crisis? If so, what do they do about the exhortation to be “always giving thanks to God the Father for everything”? If not, how do they word their prayers of thanksgiving in light of their neighbors’ tragedies?
The same kind of tension would arise if the safe family, arriving home just after the tornado and seeing their house intact, said to one another, “God is good!” Was he not good to the neighbors who lost lives and property? Would he not have been good if the safe house were totally destroyed?
This issue is one aspect of a much larger question: why does God allow harmful things to come to people? Why is there evil and suffering in the world if God,, who governs this world, is all-mighty, all-wise, and all-good? It is not my intention here to explore this ages-old question, but to focus specifically on how we word our prayers and remarks in such instances as those described above.
I believe it is helpful for us to think about the words we are using. The psalmists used words, the apostle Paul used words, and Jesus used words. Their words are written down in the scriptures, encouraging us to concentrate on just what it is for which we are praying, and, specifically for which we are giving thanks.
It does not seem to be honoring to God if we choose to withhold prayers of thanksgiving in certain situations. As indicated above, after the apostle Paul speaks of being filled with the Spirit, he adds that one aspect of the Spirit’s fullness is “always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:20). In I Thessalonians Paul writes: “Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (5:16-18). And in his letter to the Philippian church, Paul exhorts God’s people to “not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God” (4:6).
It helps me to distinguish between my prayers in/for my own personal situation, and praying for others in difficulty. In some trials I have personally thanked God both in and for the situation, even praising God for the current terminal rejection of my transplanted heart. (I admit, however, concerning my heart failure and transplant vasculopathy, that I find it much easier to thank God in my ongoing illness than for it.) I have also thanked God for (not just in) equipment failure, interruptions, and the difficulty of preparing a certain sermon (or blog). James 1:2-4 and Romans 5:3-5, which speak of rejoicing in sufferings, are becoming more real and more comforting to me the longer I live. I can say (in my better moments) “you are good, Lord; you are wise; I rest in you, Lord,” when difficulties come upon me. I know that—if I respond with humility and trust—God is conforming me to the image of his Son, and leading me to deeper joy and satisfaction than I can ever produce on my own.
How do I pray, however, for my neighbors, either out loud or in my mind? I do not feel comfortable thanking God (audibly or privately) for my neighbors’ disaster. We are to “weep with those who weep.” I can, though, praise God in the situation because he is always reaching out to hurting people, he is wise and compassionate, and he is able to work all things for good in the lives of those who love him. I have experienced this God! But I do not want to “push” my prayers or thanksgivings on to hurting people. I can pray for and with them, but they alone must praise God directly and offer their requests specifically as they recover from the shock of the situation.
It is crucial to remind ourselves that God remains God no matter what circumstances he allows in our lives, or in our neighbors’ lives. We don’t just thank God when our home is spared or our car just missed being involved in a terrible crash. If the thought “God is good,” comes to us in such situations, we need to be thanking God for being God—for being who he is all the time. He is always gracious and loving, whether or not we can see these attributes in the midst of a crisis. His perfections remain, even as circumstances change. Our God is a good God—always.
One final thought: our God is a mysterious God. No matter how carefully we analyze situations, examine the scriptures, and probe the nature of God, we must always bow in the presence of Mystery. We word our prayers as best we can, but we rest ultimately in the sovereign wisdom and compassionate guidance of God. “His ways are not our ways, and his thoughts are not our thoughts.”
Two families of five live side by side. The families are good friends and are active in the same church. A tornado strikes their town and, among other devastation, destroys the one family’s house and kills two of the family members. The house next door suffers a small amount of damage but no one is seriously hurt. An unusual scenario, for sure, but not at all impossible.
The survivors of the families live together in the intact house for a while, until the funerals are over and the uprooted family moves. The members of the relatively untouched home feel uncomfortable about thanking God for his protection, especially in the presence of the other family. Why was the other family not protected? How are they to think of God’s protection for some but not for others?
This issue leads to such doubt and confusion in the “safe” family that they stop thanking God for their protection from the tornado. They continue, however, praying for encouragement and provision for their former neighbors and their other neighbors who were also affected.
Should they avoid thanking God about the tornado crisis? If so, what do they do about the exhortation to be “always giving thanks to God the Father for everything”? If not, how do they word their prayers of thanksgiving in light of their neighbors’ tragedies?
The same kind of tension would arise if the safe family, arriving home just after the tornado and seeing their house intact, said to one another, “God is good!” Was he not good to the neighbors who lost lives and property? Would he not have been good if the safe house were totally destroyed?
This issue is one aspect of a much larger question: why does God allow harmful things to come to people? Why is there evil and suffering in the world if God,, who governs this world, is all-mighty, all-wise, and all-good? It is not my intention here to explore this ages-old question, but to focus specifically on how we word our prayers and remarks in such instances as those described above.
I believe it is helpful for us to think about the words we are using. The psalmists used words, the apostle Paul used words, and Jesus used words. Their words are written down in the scriptures, encouraging us to concentrate on just what it is for which we are praying, and, specifically for which we are giving thanks.
It does not seem to be honoring to God if we choose to withhold prayers of thanksgiving in certain situations. As indicated above, after the apostle Paul speaks of being filled with the Spirit, he adds that one aspect of the Spirit’s fullness is “always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:20). In I Thessalonians Paul writes: “Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (5:16-18). And in his letter to the Philippian church, Paul exhorts God’s people to “not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God” (4:6).
It helps me to distinguish between my prayers in/for my own personal situation, and praying for others in difficulty. In some trials I have personally thanked God both in and for the situation, even praising God for the current terminal rejection of my transplanted heart. (I admit, however, concerning my heart failure and transplant vasculopathy, that I find it much easier to thank God in my ongoing illness than for it.) I have also thanked God for (not just in) equipment failure, interruptions, and the difficulty of preparing a certain sermon (or blog). James 1:2-4 and Romans 5:3-5, which speak of rejoicing in sufferings, are becoming more real and more comforting to me the longer I live. I can say (in my better moments) “you are good, Lord; you are wise; I rest in you, Lord,” when difficulties come upon me. I know that—if I respond with humility and trust—God is conforming me to the image of his Son, and leading me to deeper joy and satisfaction than I can ever produce on my own.
How do I pray, however, for my neighbors, either out loud or in my mind? I do not feel comfortable thanking God (audibly or privately) for my neighbors’ disaster. We are to “weep with those who weep.” I can, though, praise God in the situation because he is always reaching out to hurting people, he is wise and compassionate, and he is able to work all things for good in the lives of those who love him. I have experienced this God! But I do not want to “push” my prayers or thanksgivings on to hurting people. I can pray for and with them, but they alone must praise God directly and offer their requests specifically as they recover from the shock of the situation.
It is crucial to remind ourselves that God remains God no matter what circumstances he allows in our lives, or in our neighbors’ lives. We don’t just thank God when our home is spared or our car just missed being involved in a terrible crash. If the thought “God is good,” comes to us in such situations, we need to be thanking God for being God—for being who he is all the time. He is always gracious and loving, whether or not we can see these attributes in the midst of a crisis. His perfections remain, even as circumstances change. Our God is a good God—always.
One final thought: our God is a mysterious God. No matter how carefully we analyze situations, examine the scriptures, and probe the nature of God, we must always bow in the presence of Mystery. We word our prayers as best we can, but we rest ultimately in the sovereign wisdom and compassionate guidance of God. “His ways are not our ways, and his thoughts are not our thoughts.”
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Health Update
Bob Rakestraw
“His yoke is easy, his burden is light; I’ve found it so, I’ve found it so.”
I learned this catchy tune and these words from Matthew 11:30 in my early Christian life, and they have boosted me all through the years. I sing this chorus not when my life is easy, but when things are hard.
I have been singing and humming these words often lately. I felt that I should send a health update to you my faithful readers, since it has been a while.
Some of you knew I was having difficulties with my new transplant cardiologist. Well, now I have a new, new one. Judy and I met with her on Monday, May 17, and she seems to be just the medicine I need. She is compassionate and capable, and does not intend to push me in ways that have been ineffective in the past. She acknowledged there is nothing she can do except look into a couple of long shots, and monitor my drug levels every six months or so. She is head of the heart transplant program at the University of Minnesota Medical Center, and I am fortunate to have her. For the first time in over a year, I feel validated and understood by my cardiologist.
There is a down side, however, to my appointment. For the first time since my transplant in 2003, I learned that I have heart failure in addition to the transplant vasculopathy. I have not had heart failure since before the transplant. In fact, that was the reason for needing a new heart. Well, here I am again.
Even though I didn’t know what to call it, I knew I was changing inside. The breathing has become harder and the inner downward “pull” has intensified. I have other symptoms as well, such as increased dizziness, nausea and light-headedness. I sometimes have a “fog” inside my head. Talking is hard. Listening is hard. I am much like I was before the transplant, but worse. My friends understand these things, and, by doing so, consistently affirm me.
There is something more. I feel as though I am moving on. The old order of things is passing away, and the new is drawing near. I don’t know, of course, whether I will be called home by the Lord soon. I may still be here ten or twenty years from now. But my inner person senses that I am in a kind of twilight zone—a shadowland or “via media”—with one foot on the other side. The things of earth are growing “strangely dim.”
I desire to live every minute of my remaining time on earth for the honor of my King, for the good of those I know, and for the good of those I don’t know, but have influenced or will influence in some way in the days to come. I feel as though I could write a twenty-volume set of theology, ethics, biblical exposition, and life-lessons learned over the years. The spirit is very willing, but the body is weak. I affirm wholeheartedly, however, that “His yoke is easy, his burden is light; I’ve found it so, I’ve found it so.”
“His yoke is easy, his burden is light; I’ve found it so, I’ve found it so.”
I learned this catchy tune and these words from Matthew 11:30 in my early Christian life, and they have boosted me all through the years. I sing this chorus not when my life is easy, but when things are hard.
I have been singing and humming these words often lately. I felt that I should send a health update to you my faithful readers, since it has been a while.
Some of you knew I was having difficulties with my new transplant cardiologist. Well, now I have a new, new one. Judy and I met with her on Monday, May 17, and she seems to be just the medicine I need. She is compassionate and capable, and does not intend to push me in ways that have been ineffective in the past. She acknowledged there is nothing she can do except look into a couple of long shots, and monitor my drug levels every six months or so. She is head of the heart transplant program at the University of Minnesota Medical Center, and I am fortunate to have her. For the first time in over a year, I feel validated and understood by my cardiologist.
There is a down side, however, to my appointment. For the first time since my transplant in 2003, I learned that I have heart failure in addition to the transplant vasculopathy. I have not had heart failure since before the transplant. In fact, that was the reason for needing a new heart. Well, here I am again.
Even though I didn’t know what to call it, I knew I was changing inside. The breathing has become harder and the inner downward “pull” has intensified. I have other symptoms as well, such as increased dizziness, nausea and light-headedness. I sometimes have a “fog” inside my head. Talking is hard. Listening is hard. I am much like I was before the transplant, but worse. My friends understand these things, and, by doing so, consistently affirm me.
There is something more. I feel as though I am moving on. The old order of things is passing away, and the new is drawing near. I don’t know, of course, whether I will be called home by the Lord soon. I may still be here ten or twenty years from now. But my inner person senses that I am in a kind of twilight zone—a shadowland or “via media”—with one foot on the other side. The things of earth are growing “strangely dim.”
I desire to live every minute of my remaining time on earth for the honor of my King, for the good of those I know, and for the good of those I don’t know, but have influenced or will influence in some way in the days to come. I feel as though I could write a twenty-volume set of theology, ethics, biblical exposition, and life-lessons learned over the years. The spirit is very willing, but the body is weak. I affirm wholeheartedly, however, that “His yoke is easy, his burden is light; I’ve found it so, I’ve found it so.”
Friday, April 30, 2010
Ramblings from My 2009 Readings
Bob Rakestraw
April 30, 2010
Here are some of the books I completed reading in 2009. Feel free to send your own lists (with or without annotations). I trust that you will find something useful in this posting. May God strengthen you always with his grace.
• Amy Carmichael, Rose from Briar. Ft. Washington, PA: Christian Literature Crusade, 1973 (first published 1933), 200 pp., softcover.
This has to be one of the top five books in my entire life, from the standpoint of helping me live well. It is not an easy book to read, and was written over 75 years ago. It is not only difficult to read because of the tight, sometimes turgid English (British), but because of the depth—true profundity—of her acquaintance with suffering. Amy Carmichael lived from 1867-1951, most of her adult life as a missionary to the Dohnavur area of India. She had a serious fall and ended up as an invalid for 20 years. She came to know God intimately through her sufferings, and she expresses the most helpful thoughts about physical, emotional and spiritual suffering I have ever read. I keep this book close by my side. Ruth Bell Graham, wife of the famous evangelist Billy Graham, said, “By far the best I have found” on the subject of living with serious illness.
• Dr. Claire Weekes, Hope and Help for your Nerves. New York: Signet, 1969, afterword copyright 1990, 209 pp., softcover.
This has become another of the most helpful books to me in my illness of recent years. I had been suffering from serious depression in December, 2008, and severe anxiety during the first five days of the following month. This work came to my attention through two different doctors. I have written about this book on my two blog postings of January, 2009, so I will not repeat those remarks. Dr. Weekes’ work, from a secular perspective, and Amy Carmichael’s Rose from Briar from the Christian perspective have complemented each other remarkably in my recent life—especially in battling anxiety and depression. Very highly recommended. I must face, accept, float, and let time pass.
• Linda Hall, Island of Refuge. Sisters, OR: Multnomah, 1999, 308 pp., softcover.
One of the most captivating novels I’ve read. Not a work of “Christian fiction” as such, but an intriguing story by an author who is tuned-in to Christian realities. The subtitle is accurate: “A Novel of Suspense.” This multiple-murder mystery excels in the overall story-line and the outstanding character studies. Set on the easternmost island in the United States—off the coast of Maine. Hard to put down. A good change for me in these turbulent times of my life.
• N. T. Wright, Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church. New York: HarperCollins, 2008, 332 pp., hardcover.
A stimulating study of end-time events (referred to by scholars as eschatology), although the book is equally concerned with how Christians and the church should live and serve until Christ returns. The middle third of the book (about 110 pages) discusses the standard topics of eschatology: life after death, heaven, hell, bodily resurrection, the second coming of Jesus, the new earth, judgment, purgatory, and the new earth. He has some fresh insights on these topics. The first and third parts of the book attempt to clear up confusion over the ideas of heaven and resurrection, and prompt Christians to work now toward establishing the new earth. Not as clear as he could be on the issues, but an interesting read by an acclaimed New Testament scholar.
• Gerald L. Sittser, A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1996, 181 pp., hardcover.
This is a truly remarkable and revealing first-person account from a professor of religion whose wife, mother and daughter were killed in a horrific nighttime car crash. The author was driving his family home, when, at a curve, an oncoming car jumped its lane and smashed head-on into their minivan. The other driver was drunk, traveling at 85 miles per hour. He was accompanied by his pregnant wife, also drunk, who was killed in the accident.
The subtitle says it all. This is a book for those who have experienced any kind of loss in their lives. Sittser writes that his aim “is not to provide quick and painless solutions but to point the way to a lifelong journey of growth.” He adds: “writing this book has turned out to be meaningful but not cathartic. It has not exacerbated the trauma, nor has it helped to heal it. Keeping a journal over the past three years did that. …[Writing] this book has not mitigated my sense of bewilderment and sadness.” The accident “remains a horrible, tragic, and evil event to me.” Truly this book is a classic. Speaking of Gerald Sittser, the philosopher Nicholas Wolterstorff writes: “To all, like him, who must live with loss and beyond, this book will be a true companion. I know of none better.” And, according to Pastor Bill Hybels, “this is the single most reflective and redemptive book on sorrow and loss that I have ever read.” It helped me significantly with my own loss of health and career.
• Kathryn Greene-McCreight, Darkness Is My Only Companion: A Christian Response to Mental Illness. Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos, 2006, 176 pp., softcover.
In her preface the author writes: “This project examines the distress caused and the Christian theological questions raised by a clinical mental illness, namely, mine.” It is a highly personal narrative of her struggles with mental illness (bipolar disorder), with accounts of poignant and raw episodes that illustrate her statements. She does not recount every episode, because, as she notes, “this book is finally not about my own mental illness but my theological reflections on mental illness.” She discusses sin and grace, creation and redemption, God’s discipline of the soul, and the dark night of the soul.
This is a very honest, fascinating, and encouraging account of one person’s serious mental condition and how, through God’s mercy, she found (and finds) life worth living. The author of Being Sick Well, Jeffrey H. Boyd, writes that this “is the first book to develop a coherent and practical theology of mental illness. It is easy to read, deeply moving, compassionate, authentic, practical, profound, and uplifting.” He is not exaggerating when he says, “This is a must-read for any Christian suffering from mental illness, or for a family member, minister or health professional caring for a disturbed Christian.” Greene-McCreight is assistant priest at St. John’s Episcopal Church and a college teacher in New Haven, Connecticut. I have been greatly helped by this outstanding work. The book title comes from the last verse of Psalm 88
• J. B. Phillips, The Price of Success: An Autobiography. Wheaton, IL: Harold Shaw, 1984, 222 pp., softcover.
Especially from the late 1940’s through the 1960’s, J. B. Phillips (1906-1982) was a highly respected, much in-demand speaker and writer throughout Great Britain and beyond. He was a vicar in the Church of England, but came to prominence through his eminently readable contemporary translations of the New Testament writings. In 1958, The New Testament in Modern English was published (revised 1972), preceded by Your God is Too Small (1952) and other volumes, and followed by numerous works making biblical and theological scholarship accessible to eager lay readers.
I first read this book in 1986 or 1987. I had come to believe (and still do) that the most valuable form of reading for me was the autobiography. Here Phillips tells his life story in an interesting and quite readable fashion: his childhood, adolescence, ministerial training, marriage, parish ministry, and writing. The last twenty-two pages describe Phillips’ deep and enduring battle with depression. His account of depression was my primary reason for reading the book again in 2009. I too was suffering in this way. Riding at the crest of his illustrious career, he had a serious breakdown in the early 1960’s. Here are his own words: “I was tasting the sweets of success to an almost unimaginable degree.… I was not nearly so aware of the dangers of success. The subtle corrosion of character, the unconscious changing of values and the secret monstrous growth of a vastly inflated idea of myself seeped slowly into me….[It] is very plain to me now why my one man kingdom of power and glory had to stop.”
With refreshing candor and specificity, Phillips chronicles his depth of depression, lasting several years, and how he was helped and not helped. He writes: “Despite the use of drugs, which did me no good at all, there really can be no substitute for the healing of the mind by the encouragement and understanding of one who knows what he is talking about. The staff [in the clinic] were kindness itself, but as far as I was concerned the daily contact with others who were suffering as I was did me more good than anything.” Having suffered from depression, I profited greatly from Phillips’ account.
April 30, 2010
Here are some of the books I completed reading in 2009. Feel free to send your own lists (with or without annotations). I trust that you will find something useful in this posting. May God strengthen you always with his grace.
• Amy Carmichael, Rose from Briar. Ft. Washington, PA: Christian Literature Crusade, 1973 (first published 1933), 200 pp., softcover.
This has to be one of the top five books in my entire life, from the standpoint of helping me live well. It is not an easy book to read, and was written over 75 years ago. It is not only difficult to read because of the tight, sometimes turgid English (British), but because of the depth—true profundity—of her acquaintance with suffering. Amy Carmichael lived from 1867-1951, most of her adult life as a missionary to the Dohnavur area of India. She had a serious fall and ended up as an invalid for 20 years. She came to know God intimately through her sufferings, and she expresses the most helpful thoughts about physical, emotional and spiritual suffering I have ever read. I keep this book close by my side. Ruth Bell Graham, wife of the famous evangelist Billy Graham, said, “By far the best I have found” on the subject of living with serious illness.
• Dr. Claire Weekes, Hope and Help for your Nerves. New York: Signet, 1969, afterword copyright 1990, 209 pp., softcover.
This has become another of the most helpful books to me in my illness of recent years. I had been suffering from serious depression in December, 2008, and severe anxiety during the first five days of the following month. This work came to my attention through two different doctors. I have written about this book on my two blog postings of January, 2009, so I will not repeat those remarks. Dr. Weekes’ work, from a secular perspective, and Amy Carmichael’s Rose from Briar from the Christian perspective have complemented each other remarkably in my recent life—especially in battling anxiety and depression. Very highly recommended. I must face, accept, float, and let time pass.
• Linda Hall, Island of Refuge. Sisters, OR: Multnomah, 1999, 308 pp., softcover.
One of the most captivating novels I’ve read. Not a work of “Christian fiction” as such, but an intriguing story by an author who is tuned-in to Christian realities. The subtitle is accurate: “A Novel of Suspense.” This multiple-murder mystery excels in the overall story-line and the outstanding character studies. Set on the easternmost island in the United States—off the coast of Maine. Hard to put down. A good change for me in these turbulent times of my life.
• N. T. Wright, Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church. New York: HarperCollins, 2008, 332 pp., hardcover.
A stimulating study of end-time events (referred to by scholars as eschatology), although the book is equally concerned with how Christians and the church should live and serve until Christ returns. The middle third of the book (about 110 pages) discusses the standard topics of eschatology: life after death, heaven, hell, bodily resurrection, the second coming of Jesus, the new earth, judgment, purgatory, and the new earth. He has some fresh insights on these topics. The first and third parts of the book attempt to clear up confusion over the ideas of heaven and resurrection, and prompt Christians to work now toward establishing the new earth. Not as clear as he could be on the issues, but an interesting read by an acclaimed New Testament scholar.
• Gerald L. Sittser, A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1996, 181 pp., hardcover.
This is a truly remarkable and revealing first-person account from a professor of religion whose wife, mother and daughter were killed in a horrific nighttime car crash. The author was driving his family home, when, at a curve, an oncoming car jumped its lane and smashed head-on into their minivan. The other driver was drunk, traveling at 85 miles per hour. He was accompanied by his pregnant wife, also drunk, who was killed in the accident.
The subtitle says it all. This is a book for those who have experienced any kind of loss in their lives. Sittser writes that his aim “is not to provide quick and painless solutions but to point the way to a lifelong journey of growth.” He adds: “writing this book has turned out to be meaningful but not cathartic. It has not exacerbated the trauma, nor has it helped to heal it. Keeping a journal over the past three years did that. …[Writing] this book has not mitigated my sense of bewilderment and sadness.” The accident “remains a horrible, tragic, and evil event to me.” Truly this book is a classic. Speaking of Gerald Sittser, the philosopher Nicholas Wolterstorff writes: “To all, like him, who must live with loss and beyond, this book will be a true companion. I know of none better.” And, according to Pastor Bill Hybels, “this is the single most reflective and redemptive book on sorrow and loss that I have ever read.” It helped me significantly with my own loss of health and career.
• Kathryn Greene-McCreight, Darkness Is My Only Companion: A Christian Response to Mental Illness. Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos, 2006, 176 pp., softcover.
In her preface the author writes: “This project examines the distress caused and the Christian theological questions raised by a clinical mental illness, namely, mine.” It is a highly personal narrative of her struggles with mental illness (bipolar disorder), with accounts of poignant and raw episodes that illustrate her statements. She does not recount every episode, because, as she notes, “this book is finally not about my own mental illness but my theological reflections on mental illness.” She discusses sin and grace, creation and redemption, God’s discipline of the soul, and the dark night of the soul.
This is a very honest, fascinating, and encouraging account of one person’s serious mental condition and how, through God’s mercy, she found (and finds) life worth living. The author of Being Sick Well, Jeffrey H. Boyd, writes that this “is the first book to develop a coherent and practical theology of mental illness. It is easy to read, deeply moving, compassionate, authentic, practical, profound, and uplifting.” He is not exaggerating when he says, “This is a must-read for any Christian suffering from mental illness, or for a family member, minister or health professional caring for a disturbed Christian.” Greene-McCreight is assistant priest at St. John’s Episcopal Church and a college teacher in New Haven, Connecticut. I have been greatly helped by this outstanding work. The book title comes from the last verse of Psalm 88
• J. B. Phillips, The Price of Success: An Autobiography. Wheaton, IL: Harold Shaw, 1984, 222 pp., softcover.
Especially from the late 1940’s through the 1960’s, J. B. Phillips (1906-1982) was a highly respected, much in-demand speaker and writer throughout Great Britain and beyond. He was a vicar in the Church of England, but came to prominence through his eminently readable contemporary translations of the New Testament writings. In 1958, The New Testament in Modern English was published (revised 1972), preceded by Your God is Too Small (1952) and other volumes, and followed by numerous works making biblical and theological scholarship accessible to eager lay readers.
I first read this book in 1986 or 1987. I had come to believe (and still do) that the most valuable form of reading for me was the autobiography. Here Phillips tells his life story in an interesting and quite readable fashion: his childhood, adolescence, ministerial training, marriage, parish ministry, and writing. The last twenty-two pages describe Phillips’ deep and enduring battle with depression. His account of depression was my primary reason for reading the book again in 2009. I too was suffering in this way. Riding at the crest of his illustrious career, he had a serious breakdown in the early 1960’s. Here are his own words: “I was tasting the sweets of success to an almost unimaginable degree.… I was not nearly so aware of the dangers of success. The subtle corrosion of character, the unconscious changing of values and the secret monstrous growth of a vastly inflated idea of myself seeped slowly into me….[It] is very plain to me now why my one man kingdom of power and glory had to stop.”
With refreshing candor and specificity, Phillips chronicles his depth of depression, lasting several years, and how he was helped and not helped. He writes: “Despite the use of drugs, which did me no good at all, there really can be no substitute for the healing of the mind by the encouragement and understanding of one who knows what he is talking about. The staff [in the clinic] were kindness itself, but as far as I was concerned the daily contact with others who were suffering as I was did me more good than anything.” Having suffered from depression, I profited greatly from Phillips’ account.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
To Understand Each Other
Bob Rakestraw
It was nine days after my heart transplant, and my first restaurant meal since the surgery. There I sat at the Chinese buffet. I had a new heart beating within me from a young person who had died one foggy night in November. I was in a state of wonder. I marveled at the newness and freedom of life. I no longer had strapped to my body the powerful milrinone solution that had been infused continually into my heart, keeping me alive for the previous four months. I felt liberated and grateful.
I also wondered at the people around me, taking their seats, going to and from the food trays, talking to one another, looking right past me. Right through me. Didn’t they know? Why didn’t they marvel that I was there? I wanted to tap people on the shoulder and tell them what had just happened to me. Why couldn’t they see?
As I sat there with my wife, eating my noodles and sesame chicken, I was amazed at how little we know of those about us. Just as they had no idea of my recent experience—the years of waiting, the dozens of tests and consultations at Mayo Clinic and the University of Minnesota, the week in intensive care months before the transplant, the days of recovery—so I had no idea of the lives, joys, heartaches, and dreams of the diners and servers about me. Just as I felt unnoticed and unknown, so must have some—perhaps many—of them.
One of the lessons I have been learning during the six years since my transplant is that no one can fully understand what I am thinking and experiencing. No one on earth truly knows me, yet I long to be known. I’ve had to—very reluctantly—let go of my need/desire to be understood deeply. It has become enough for me to know that some people truly care and try to comprehend my situation, my pain, suffering, psychological struggles, medication side effects, and chronic transplant rejection. I have been helped greatly in learning this lesson by the realization that I don’t/can’t know others as they want to be known. I can try to see through their eyes, enter into their thoughts, fears, sufferings and motives, yet I understand them at best only partially.
Another realization that has gripped me strongly in recent years is that—apart from the truths of God—the most important non-material thing I can give to any person is my full, concentrated attention and concern. To look at and listen to a person with our whole self, trying our best to understand his or her words, mind and heart, is a rare and priceless gift. When you are on the receiving end of this gift, and you sense that it is genuine, you are strengthened and encouraged in a way that cannot be explained, even if the person is not able to help you in any other way. And when you are on the giving end (probably listening ninety percent of the time) you may very well be the representative of God to someone desperately needing to be understood.
Psychologist Paul Tournier, in his book, To Understand Each Other, writes:
"It is impossible to overemphasize the immense need [people] have to be really listened to, to be taken seriously, to be understood. No one can develop freely in this world and find full life without feeling understood by at least one person."
You and I are not able to be that one person for everyone we know, but we can be for someone, for two or for several. You may have no idea what a gift—what an encouragement to go on—you can be if you become an active, sincere listener, without letting your eyes and mind wander, without hazing over, and without interjecting your experiences and perspectives until (if ever) you sense that the person is ready for them. This whole matter of trying to understand others in such a way that validates them is tough work—sometimes really tough work. And we need to trust God for the who, where, when, why, and how long. And don’t forget the children—they sense immediately which adults really care.
Two days ago I was sitting with my wife in a medical clinic, and across from us sat a man and his wife. On the other side of the man was an elderly woman whom I believe had not known the couple previously. She had infinite patience, it seemed. She listened and listened and listened as the man talked and talked and talked. She bent toward him the whole time in an uncomfortable position, nodding her head occasionally as he glanced toward her from time to time to check if she was still listening. I averted my eyes, trying to read my book. But I could hear him. Looking straight forward, with a very pleased smile on his face, he spoke smoothly, without allowing any interruptions, moving from Iwo Jima, Swedish meatballs, church matters, Pearl Harbor and everything else that came to his mind by free association. Finally Judy was called in to her eye check-up and I immediately moved to the far corner of the (fortunately large) waiting room.
I give this account simply to illustrate when we do not need to be active listeners. If the person likes to talk just to hear himself or herself speaking, I try to slip away as quickly as possible. I don’t like feeling trapped. But if the person is open, as is often evident in his or her eyes or voice, and is truly looking to be understood (and thereby helped from some comments you may make), and I sense from the circumstances and the Spirit’s inner nudging that I should talk with the person, I do. Often it is not the quantity of time you give, but the quality.
“Now I know [God and others] in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known” (I Corinthians 13:12).
It was nine days after my heart transplant, and my first restaurant meal since the surgery. There I sat at the Chinese buffet. I had a new heart beating within me from a young person who had died one foggy night in November. I was in a state of wonder. I marveled at the newness and freedom of life. I no longer had strapped to my body the powerful milrinone solution that had been infused continually into my heart, keeping me alive for the previous four months. I felt liberated and grateful.
I also wondered at the people around me, taking their seats, going to and from the food trays, talking to one another, looking right past me. Right through me. Didn’t they know? Why didn’t they marvel that I was there? I wanted to tap people on the shoulder and tell them what had just happened to me. Why couldn’t they see?
As I sat there with my wife, eating my noodles and sesame chicken, I was amazed at how little we know of those about us. Just as they had no idea of my recent experience—the years of waiting, the dozens of tests and consultations at Mayo Clinic and the University of Minnesota, the week in intensive care months before the transplant, the days of recovery—so I had no idea of the lives, joys, heartaches, and dreams of the diners and servers about me. Just as I felt unnoticed and unknown, so must have some—perhaps many—of them.
One of the lessons I have been learning during the six years since my transplant is that no one can fully understand what I am thinking and experiencing. No one on earth truly knows me, yet I long to be known. I’ve had to—very reluctantly—let go of my need/desire to be understood deeply. It has become enough for me to know that some people truly care and try to comprehend my situation, my pain, suffering, psychological struggles, medication side effects, and chronic transplant rejection. I have been helped greatly in learning this lesson by the realization that I don’t/can’t know others as they want to be known. I can try to see through their eyes, enter into their thoughts, fears, sufferings and motives, yet I understand them at best only partially.
Another realization that has gripped me strongly in recent years is that—apart from the truths of God—the most important non-material thing I can give to any person is my full, concentrated attention and concern. To look at and listen to a person with our whole self, trying our best to understand his or her words, mind and heart, is a rare and priceless gift. When you are on the receiving end of this gift, and you sense that it is genuine, you are strengthened and encouraged in a way that cannot be explained, even if the person is not able to help you in any other way. And when you are on the giving end (probably listening ninety percent of the time) you may very well be the representative of God to someone desperately needing to be understood.
Psychologist Paul Tournier, in his book, To Understand Each Other, writes:
"It is impossible to overemphasize the immense need [people] have to be really listened to, to be taken seriously, to be understood. No one can develop freely in this world and find full life without feeling understood by at least one person."
You and I are not able to be that one person for everyone we know, but we can be for someone, for two or for several. You may have no idea what a gift—what an encouragement to go on—you can be if you become an active, sincere listener, without letting your eyes and mind wander, without hazing over, and without interjecting your experiences and perspectives until (if ever) you sense that the person is ready for them. This whole matter of trying to understand others in such a way that validates them is tough work—sometimes really tough work. And we need to trust God for the who, where, when, why, and how long. And don’t forget the children—they sense immediately which adults really care.
Two days ago I was sitting with my wife in a medical clinic, and across from us sat a man and his wife. On the other side of the man was an elderly woman whom I believe had not known the couple previously. She had infinite patience, it seemed. She listened and listened and listened as the man talked and talked and talked. She bent toward him the whole time in an uncomfortable position, nodding her head occasionally as he glanced toward her from time to time to check if she was still listening. I averted my eyes, trying to read my book. But I could hear him. Looking straight forward, with a very pleased smile on his face, he spoke smoothly, without allowing any interruptions, moving from Iwo Jima, Swedish meatballs, church matters, Pearl Harbor and everything else that came to his mind by free association. Finally Judy was called in to her eye check-up and I immediately moved to the far corner of the (fortunately large) waiting room.
I give this account simply to illustrate when we do not need to be active listeners. If the person likes to talk just to hear himself or herself speaking, I try to slip away as quickly as possible. I don’t like feeling trapped. But if the person is open, as is often evident in his or her eyes or voice, and is truly looking to be understood (and thereby helped from some comments you may make), and I sense from the circumstances and the Spirit’s inner nudging that I should talk with the person, I do. Often it is not the quantity of time you give, but the quality.
“Now I know [God and others] in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known” (I Corinthians 13:12).
Sunday, February 28, 2010
I Hate Suffering
Bob Rakestraw
Yesterday Judy and I were praying for people we know. I choked up when I was praying for one family in trouble. They have a number of serious problems, different for each person but all overlapping and intertwined. Their problems are not primarily health related, but they are major. Some are due to rebellion against God. Some are not.
Then I began thinking of three babies we know of, all nine months old or younger. Their health issues have been so severe since before their births that Judy and I are amazed they are still alive. One nine-month old has never been home from the hospital, and is now, I believe, in hospice care. The two others have spent much more of their lives in the hospital than at home.
I hate suffering—that of others as well as my own. When I think of my difficulties, I realize they are quite different from those above, and, in some respects, are not as serious. Yet, to me, they are awful. I hate them. I hate all suffering. My mother often said to me as a child, “Don’t ever say hate.” When I would say something like “I hate that barking dog” or “I hate that kid,” she would gently reprimand me. I think it had something to do with the hatred between nations and people-groups during World War II, which she had lived through during her thirties.
I’m not sure whether my mother, if she were alive, would approve of my saying, “I hate suffering.” Probably not. But I approve of it, for myself at least. I don’t say these words often, but when I do I feel a kind of relief and release. Last week I had a clinic appointment with my cardiologist. Halfway through the session I pounded my fists on my legs and said, “I hate this, I hate this, I hate this.” I told him I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I told him I do NOT want any more surgeries, tests, procedures—nothing but occasional blood tests and perhaps minor changes in my medications. Since then I decided that I will not be scheduling any more doctor visits except on an “as-needed” basis. No more “three months from now,” “two weeks from now,” or whatever.
If this sounds rather drastic and extreme to you, I suppose it is. Actually, I had made this decision two years ago with my previous cardiologist, and I am renewing it now with my present one. I have had excellent medical care over the twenty-five years of my cardiac problems, so I have no gripes with my doctor or the medical profession because they can’t do more. There is no “more.” I have declined a second heart-transplant (my first was in 2003) and two cardiologists have now told me there is nothing more that can be done except “futzing” with my drugs and my trying to exercise as I am able. Basically I was told this in November, 2006, when I was informed that my heart was in permanent rejection. The “transplant vasculopathy” would take my life in “a few months or a few years,” by a major heart attack or a series of heart attacks.
But what about endurance? Doesn’t the Bible instruct God’s people to be patient and steadfast, and to run the race well until the end? I have never been more convinced of the rightness and beauty of these teachings. I have been greatly helped by the books of Second Corinthians, Second Timothy, First Peter, Hebrews and others that speak of the necessity of endurance in trials, no matter how devastating they are. But I find no exhortations to become friends with my afflictions. Paul did not, Jesus did not, David did not, and I am not. I am a strong believer in the remarkable teachings in James chapter one, Romans chapters five and eight, and other scriptures that teach clearly that when God allows sufferings (and he does this often) it is for our eternal good.
I rejoice (yes!) that God permits whatever he does in my life—good or bad. But it is God himself in whom I rejoice and trust. He is totally wise, faithful and good. I know this cognitively and experientially. My desire is to be faithful to my Lord until the last day of my life. But I still hate suffering!
Yesterday Judy and I were praying for people we know. I choked up when I was praying for one family in trouble. They have a number of serious problems, different for each person but all overlapping and intertwined. Their problems are not primarily health related, but they are major. Some are due to rebellion against God. Some are not.
Then I began thinking of three babies we know of, all nine months old or younger. Their health issues have been so severe since before their births that Judy and I are amazed they are still alive. One nine-month old has never been home from the hospital, and is now, I believe, in hospice care. The two others have spent much more of their lives in the hospital than at home.
I hate suffering—that of others as well as my own. When I think of my difficulties, I realize they are quite different from those above, and, in some respects, are not as serious. Yet, to me, they are awful. I hate them. I hate all suffering. My mother often said to me as a child, “Don’t ever say hate.” When I would say something like “I hate that barking dog” or “I hate that kid,” she would gently reprimand me. I think it had something to do with the hatred between nations and people-groups during World War II, which she had lived through during her thirties.
I’m not sure whether my mother, if she were alive, would approve of my saying, “I hate suffering.” Probably not. But I approve of it, for myself at least. I don’t say these words often, but when I do I feel a kind of relief and release. Last week I had a clinic appointment with my cardiologist. Halfway through the session I pounded my fists on my legs and said, “I hate this, I hate this, I hate this.” I told him I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I told him I do NOT want any more surgeries, tests, procedures—nothing but occasional blood tests and perhaps minor changes in my medications. Since then I decided that I will not be scheduling any more doctor visits except on an “as-needed” basis. No more “three months from now,” “two weeks from now,” or whatever.
If this sounds rather drastic and extreme to you, I suppose it is. Actually, I had made this decision two years ago with my previous cardiologist, and I am renewing it now with my present one. I have had excellent medical care over the twenty-five years of my cardiac problems, so I have no gripes with my doctor or the medical profession because they can’t do more. There is no “more.” I have declined a second heart-transplant (my first was in 2003) and two cardiologists have now told me there is nothing more that can be done except “futzing” with my drugs and my trying to exercise as I am able. Basically I was told this in November, 2006, when I was informed that my heart was in permanent rejection. The “transplant vasculopathy” would take my life in “a few months or a few years,” by a major heart attack or a series of heart attacks.
But what about endurance? Doesn’t the Bible instruct God’s people to be patient and steadfast, and to run the race well until the end? I have never been more convinced of the rightness and beauty of these teachings. I have been greatly helped by the books of Second Corinthians, Second Timothy, First Peter, Hebrews and others that speak of the necessity of endurance in trials, no matter how devastating they are. But I find no exhortations to become friends with my afflictions. Paul did not, Jesus did not, David did not, and I am not. I am a strong believer in the remarkable teachings in James chapter one, Romans chapters five and eight, and other scriptures that teach clearly that when God allows sufferings (and he does this often) it is for our eternal good.
I rejoice (yes!) that God permits whatever he does in my life—good or bad. But it is God himself in whom I rejoice and trust. He is totally wise, faithful and good. I know this cognitively and experientially. My desire is to be faithful to my Lord until the last day of my life. But I still hate suffering!
Sunday, January 31, 2010
How Did I Get This Way? - Part II
Bob Rakestraw
This is a continuation of my previous blog of December 31, 2009, in which I wrote of six persons whom God has used significantly in shaping my character and mind. Here are six others to complete the list. The twelve are in a roughly chronological order. May God be eternally praised for bringing these individuals into my life.
7. Bernard Engevik. My father-in-law. Weather-beaten farmer from northern Minnesota. Lived in the house where he was born until age 50, when he and his wife, Blanche, answered God’s call to move to the mountains of southern California. Bernard served as an unpaid maintenance worker and counselor at a rustic Lutheran youth retreat, and as a volunteer caretaker at a nearby county park, which provided housing for the family. By faith he left the cattle and the land he loved so much, after auctioning off his equipment and saying goodbye to his lifetime friends and neighbors. Bernard and Blanche were the parents of 11 children (three in heaven) and three foster children. I knew Bernard for forty years, and learned from him—by observation—how to live joyfully, consistently, kindly (always helping others unselfishly), uncomplainingly, and with an unflappable trust in God to provide all his needs and those of his family. It is this last quality that has influenced me most. While he worked diligently at various jobs to support the family, he earned very little. Yet he simply did not worry. He lived a life of daily Bible study, daily prayer, cheerful service wherever he saw a need, and faithfulness to his Lord, his wife, his children, and all who knew him and loved him. Possessing little, he possessed all things.
8. Carl Hoch (pronounced Hoke). One of the New Testament professors in my Master of Arts program in Biblical Literature. His main contribution to my life has been his exacting, enthusiastic, contagious exegetical skill in the languages and literature of the Bible, especially the New Testament. Dr. Hoch was a master of the Greek language, and was very skillful in the Hebrew as well, yet he treated us graduate students with kindness and respect for our limited abilities with the biblical text. Carl Hoch sought the truth above all else and he was not afraid to point out erroneous ideas or conclusions from any mishandling of the scriptures. As he frowned, sniffed and pushed his glasses up on his nose with his finger, we his students knew he was thinking through a deep point. And we loved him for it.
9. Clark Pinnock. Theologian. Seminary Professor. Mentor. Friend. From 1970 to 1980 I was not in school. I finished my M.A. in 1970 and did not start my Ph.D. studies until 1980. But, while serving God as a college professor and a pastor during those years, I learned much. I devoured literature (books, magazines, journals) on biblical studies, theology, ethics and related topics. My most important mentor during this decade of independent learning was Clark Pinnock, a tall, red-headed Canadian with a keen intellect and a passion for showing the relevance of high-quality Christian scholarship (and thus the gospel) for today’s society. I rarely saw Clark during these years (I saw him considerably more after 1980), but he was highly influential in my life, especially in two areas. First was his leadership and involvement in the Theological Students Fellowship, especially through conferences and writings (articles, book reviews, informative and encouraging notes) in TSF Bulletin or its predecessor, TSF News and Reviews. In these years my eyes and mind were opened very wide to many rich and varied areas of advanced evangelical scholarship. I thirsted for the excitement of careful, dynamic thinking packaged for the education of younger-generation scholars like me. Second was Clark’s personal testimony and writings of his well thought-out move from a Calvinistic doctrine of salvation (with its views of a limited atonement and unconditional selection of everyone to either heaven or hell, before birth apart from anything foreseen). His 1975 edited book, Grace Unlimited, blew the door wide open for me to breathe the fresh, invigorating air of a robust, biblical, gracious, non-arbitrary view of God’s way of redemption. (I have, however, many dear Calvinistic friends; I greatly respect them and their passion for God’s truth.) Since 1980, Pinnock’s views have changed considerably, especially in his understanding of scriptural accuracy and the “openness” of God. While I do not follow Clark in these and some other approaches to theology, I will always regard him as a powerful influence in my life as a scholar, mentor and friend. Thanks, Clark.
10. Norman Geisler. Apologist. Seminary Professor. Voluminous writer. Major influence in my intellectual development during my decade of independent learning (1970-1980) referred to above. Geisler wrote significant, scholarly, readable works (some that I used as textbooks for my students) in biblical studies, ethics, philosophy of religion, and apologetics. Each of his books tackles highly relevant material and is well organized, carefully argued and clearly written. His Ethics: Alternatives and Issues appeared in 1971, and I devoured it. I was not teaching ethics at the time, and never had taken a substantial course in ethics, but I knew this was an area I needed to learn. I have always appreciated authors who are able to introduce a topic with a helpful typology and methodology, and present fairly the arguments for and against each position. Geisler offers these qualities in his books, and I have learned most from his overall pattern of reasoning and writing rather than from his specific points. In fact, I never have embraced his approach to seemingly conflicting moral absolutes (I hold, contrary to Geisler, that God’s moral absolutes never truly conflict, although they certainly appear to at times). So, while I disagree with Geisler in a number of areas in theology and ethics, I respect him highly and am thankful for his major influence upon me and upon many thousands of students and laypersons in their quests for truth grounded in the Word of God. I also am grateful to Norm for his spending time with me years ago in Dallas, as we sat at the counter of a local eating spot, sharing delicious Vietnamese spring rolls (he paid). Thank you, Norm.
11. Bruce Petersen. Pastor. Teacher. Vietnam Vet. Carpenter. Servant. Friend. Bruce has been my senior pastor since 1988, at Bethany Baptist Church of Roseville, Minnesota. He started in this position in 1981, and will reach the 30-year mark next year. Before that he was an English teacher and a youth pastor, and had built his own house. There are many qualities about Bruce that, together, have worked for good in our church and in my life. He is a very thoughtful and devout preacher, teacher and counselor, and is always biblically grounded in what he says. He is a careful, open-minded (in the best sense of the word) scholar, who seeks the mind of God on whatever topic or text he is studying. (Scholarship and spirituality are unfortunately, often separated, in contrast to Bruce’s wholistic Christianity.) His faithfulness to God and his consistency in the task of shepherding the flock of God, even through some very difficult times in the life of the church, have impressed me greatly. I believe that many (perhaps most) pastors would have resigned under similar circumstances. Most of all it has been Bruce’s giving spirit and servant heart, combined with a lack of pomposity, that have influenced me. He serves wherever he sees a need, whether laying carpet in a poor parishioner’s home, cleaning someone’s basement, cooking for church gatherings, or (along with his devoted wife, Julie) offering hospitality to many. Thank you, Bruce, for your personal integrity and faithful ministry. I am a much better man because of you.
12. Jerry Osbron. Missionary. Pastor. Teacher. Friend. Jerry and his recently deceased wife, Barb, served for nearly 40 years as missionaries in the Philippines. They had a very significant ministry of pastoring, teaching and discipling the people under their care. Their works and words live on among the thriving local churches they helped plant and nurture. I came to know Jerry especially after he retired from foreign mission service and began serving at Bethany Baptist as our associate pastor. I have always been grateful for Jerry’s steady, consistent, faithful way of life and ministry. He commits himself to our church family and always “shows up,” whether the group or meeting attracts only a few or a large number. He serves unselfishly and joyfully. Jerry has a nice balance of “wit and wisdom.” His wit comes out now and then with a quip or joke that lightens the atmosphere. His wisdom is evident especially in church meetings—small or large. He never injects his thoughts unnecessarily, but speaks as the need arises, always with mature words based upon scripture and a lifetime of experience. He is a well-organized teacher and preacher, and always presents God’s truth with conviction. The area in which Jerry has most influenced me is in his endurance. Without evident irritability, he lives and serves patiently and positively. His trust is in God, not in himself or in luck. Over the years I have witnessed Jerry endure some very difficult experiences. Barb’s health trials, his own medical issues (blindness or near blindness in these later years), serious difficulties facing his children and their families—in all of these hard circumstances, Jerry has been a strong example for me to “endure hardship as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.” Many thanks, Jerry!
This is a continuation of my previous blog of December 31, 2009, in which I wrote of six persons whom God has used significantly in shaping my character and mind. Here are six others to complete the list. The twelve are in a roughly chronological order. May God be eternally praised for bringing these individuals into my life.
7. Bernard Engevik. My father-in-law. Weather-beaten farmer from northern Minnesota. Lived in the house where he was born until age 50, when he and his wife, Blanche, answered God’s call to move to the mountains of southern California. Bernard served as an unpaid maintenance worker and counselor at a rustic Lutheran youth retreat, and as a volunteer caretaker at a nearby county park, which provided housing for the family. By faith he left the cattle and the land he loved so much, after auctioning off his equipment and saying goodbye to his lifetime friends and neighbors. Bernard and Blanche were the parents of 11 children (three in heaven) and three foster children. I knew Bernard for forty years, and learned from him—by observation—how to live joyfully, consistently, kindly (always helping others unselfishly), uncomplainingly, and with an unflappable trust in God to provide all his needs and those of his family. It is this last quality that has influenced me most. While he worked diligently at various jobs to support the family, he earned very little. Yet he simply did not worry. He lived a life of daily Bible study, daily prayer, cheerful service wherever he saw a need, and faithfulness to his Lord, his wife, his children, and all who knew him and loved him. Possessing little, he possessed all things.
8. Carl Hoch (pronounced Hoke). One of the New Testament professors in my Master of Arts program in Biblical Literature. His main contribution to my life has been his exacting, enthusiastic, contagious exegetical skill in the languages and literature of the Bible, especially the New Testament. Dr. Hoch was a master of the Greek language, and was very skillful in the Hebrew as well, yet he treated us graduate students with kindness and respect for our limited abilities with the biblical text. Carl Hoch sought the truth above all else and he was not afraid to point out erroneous ideas or conclusions from any mishandling of the scriptures. As he frowned, sniffed and pushed his glasses up on his nose with his finger, we his students knew he was thinking through a deep point. And we loved him for it.
9. Clark Pinnock. Theologian. Seminary Professor. Mentor. Friend. From 1970 to 1980 I was not in school. I finished my M.A. in 1970 and did not start my Ph.D. studies until 1980. But, while serving God as a college professor and a pastor during those years, I learned much. I devoured literature (books, magazines, journals) on biblical studies, theology, ethics and related topics. My most important mentor during this decade of independent learning was Clark Pinnock, a tall, red-headed Canadian with a keen intellect and a passion for showing the relevance of high-quality Christian scholarship (and thus the gospel) for today’s society. I rarely saw Clark during these years (I saw him considerably more after 1980), but he was highly influential in my life, especially in two areas. First was his leadership and involvement in the Theological Students Fellowship, especially through conferences and writings (articles, book reviews, informative and encouraging notes) in TSF Bulletin or its predecessor, TSF News and Reviews. In these years my eyes and mind were opened very wide to many rich and varied areas of advanced evangelical scholarship. I thirsted for the excitement of careful, dynamic thinking packaged for the education of younger-generation scholars like me. Second was Clark’s personal testimony and writings of his well thought-out move from a Calvinistic doctrine of salvation (with its views of a limited atonement and unconditional selection of everyone to either heaven or hell, before birth apart from anything foreseen). His 1975 edited book, Grace Unlimited, blew the door wide open for me to breathe the fresh, invigorating air of a robust, biblical, gracious, non-arbitrary view of God’s way of redemption. (I have, however, many dear Calvinistic friends; I greatly respect them and their passion for God’s truth.) Since 1980, Pinnock’s views have changed considerably, especially in his understanding of scriptural accuracy and the “openness” of God. While I do not follow Clark in these and some other approaches to theology, I will always regard him as a powerful influence in my life as a scholar, mentor and friend. Thanks, Clark.
10. Norman Geisler. Apologist. Seminary Professor. Voluminous writer. Major influence in my intellectual development during my decade of independent learning (1970-1980) referred to above. Geisler wrote significant, scholarly, readable works (some that I used as textbooks for my students) in biblical studies, ethics, philosophy of religion, and apologetics. Each of his books tackles highly relevant material and is well organized, carefully argued and clearly written. His Ethics: Alternatives and Issues appeared in 1971, and I devoured it. I was not teaching ethics at the time, and never had taken a substantial course in ethics, but I knew this was an area I needed to learn. I have always appreciated authors who are able to introduce a topic with a helpful typology and methodology, and present fairly the arguments for and against each position. Geisler offers these qualities in his books, and I have learned most from his overall pattern of reasoning and writing rather than from his specific points. In fact, I never have embraced his approach to seemingly conflicting moral absolutes (I hold, contrary to Geisler, that God’s moral absolutes never truly conflict, although they certainly appear to at times). So, while I disagree with Geisler in a number of areas in theology and ethics, I respect him highly and am thankful for his major influence upon me and upon many thousands of students and laypersons in their quests for truth grounded in the Word of God. I also am grateful to Norm for his spending time with me years ago in Dallas, as we sat at the counter of a local eating spot, sharing delicious Vietnamese spring rolls (he paid). Thank you, Norm.
11. Bruce Petersen. Pastor. Teacher. Vietnam Vet. Carpenter. Servant. Friend. Bruce has been my senior pastor since 1988, at Bethany Baptist Church of Roseville, Minnesota. He started in this position in 1981, and will reach the 30-year mark next year. Before that he was an English teacher and a youth pastor, and had built his own house. There are many qualities about Bruce that, together, have worked for good in our church and in my life. He is a very thoughtful and devout preacher, teacher and counselor, and is always biblically grounded in what he says. He is a careful, open-minded (in the best sense of the word) scholar, who seeks the mind of God on whatever topic or text he is studying. (Scholarship and spirituality are unfortunately, often separated, in contrast to Bruce’s wholistic Christianity.) His faithfulness to God and his consistency in the task of shepherding the flock of God, even through some very difficult times in the life of the church, have impressed me greatly. I believe that many (perhaps most) pastors would have resigned under similar circumstances. Most of all it has been Bruce’s giving spirit and servant heart, combined with a lack of pomposity, that have influenced me. He serves wherever he sees a need, whether laying carpet in a poor parishioner’s home, cleaning someone’s basement, cooking for church gatherings, or (along with his devoted wife, Julie) offering hospitality to many. Thank you, Bruce, for your personal integrity and faithful ministry. I am a much better man because of you.
12. Jerry Osbron. Missionary. Pastor. Teacher. Friend. Jerry and his recently deceased wife, Barb, served for nearly 40 years as missionaries in the Philippines. They had a very significant ministry of pastoring, teaching and discipling the people under their care. Their works and words live on among the thriving local churches they helped plant and nurture. I came to know Jerry especially after he retired from foreign mission service and began serving at Bethany Baptist as our associate pastor. I have always been grateful for Jerry’s steady, consistent, faithful way of life and ministry. He commits himself to our church family and always “shows up,” whether the group or meeting attracts only a few or a large number. He serves unselfishly and joyfully. Jerry has a nice balance of “wit and wisdom.” His wit comes out now and then with a quip or joke that lightens the atmosphere. His wisdom is evident especially in church meetings—small or large. He never injects his thoughts unnecessarily, but speaks as the need arises, always with mature words based upon scripture and a lifetime of experience. He is a well-organized teacher and preacher, and always presents God’s truth with conviction. The area in which Jerry has most influenced me is in his endurance. Without evident irritability, he lives and serves patiently and positively. His trust is in God, not in himself or in luck. Over the years I have witnessed Jerry endure some very difficult experiences. Barb’s health trials, his own medical issues (blindness or near blindness in these later years), serious difficulties facing his children and their families—in all of these hard circumstances, Jerry has been a strong example for me to “endure hardship as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.” Many thanks, Jerry!
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