Monthly Archives: July 2012

Dialogue in a Deli

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On Friday I drove the 90 miles from southwest Michigan to Chicago, back to a place I call “Nate’s hospital.” It’s the place where we learned he had terminal cancer, where we drove the long round trip 14 times for radiation treatments, and where we met Dr. Ross Abrams.

Dr. Abrams had the difficult job of delivering one piece of bad news after another to our family as Nate struggled through his 6 weeks of cancer. The doctor also positioned himself to be our soft place to fall after each new (and always bad) development. Somehow, in the 2½ years since those dark days, the doctor and I have found enough common ground to become friends.

The relationship is based on respect for one another, fleshed out in hour-long conversations that take place only once every few months. All of our meetings are at Nate’s hospital. This time as I arrived to connect with Dr. Abrams he said, “Let’s talk upstairs in the deli rather than in my office.”

As I followed him through a labyrinth of halls, everything suddenly looked familiar. And as we came to the deli, which was full of medical personnel eating breakfast in their scrubs and white coats, a Nate-memory swallowed me up. I’d sat in that place before on one of Nate’s most difficult cancer days, and the feelings of confronting a hopeless disease came rushing back.

Nate’s brother had accompanied us to radiation that day, after which Nate was scheduled for a full body bone scan, the kind that requires an injection of dye beforehand. Those three appointments (for the injection, the radiation, and the scan) were supposed to take 4 hours total, but a big delay between appointments #2 and #3 found us waiting two extra hours.

That’s when Nate, Ken, and I ended up in the deli, a beautiful facility well stocked with goodies. My memories of that visit are only of sadness, frustration, and a husband in pain. Unbeknownst to us that day, Nate wouldn’t live out the month.

So this last Friday when Dr. Abrams and I sat down at a deli table with our coffees, it was difficult to focus forward rather than back. We talked about the sloppy realities of birth and death, marveling at how these two events have much in common. We touched on life’s disappointments and the unwelcome challenges that come to us. And we agreed that many of these things are tests from God.

I am an evangelical Christian, and Dr. Abrams is an orthodox Jew. Each of us knows what the other believes, and we disagree on many of the religious basics. So why do we keep meeting? What’s the point of our conversations? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because I’m curious about his faith, and he’s curious about mine.

Whatever the reason, I have a hunch God is at the center of it.

“If someone asks about your Christian hope, always be ready to explain it. But do this in a gentle and respectful way.” (1 Peter 3:15-16)

The Perfect Pair

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Some families love to play games and schedule regular “game nights” with their children as soon as they’re able to handle Candy Land. Kids love games: Uno, Checkers, Risk, Sorry, Shoots and Ladders.

One popular game that appeals to all ages is Memory. It includes 50 cardboard pieces, each with a picture on it. These are ordinary items any child would recognize: a cookie, a bird, a truck, a cloud, a flower.

Every card has a duplicate, i.e. 50 cards, 25 different pictures. The idea is to spread them out face down, then take turns peeking at 2 at a time. The goal is to find an identical match, so if the 2 pictures you choose aren’t identical, you turn them back over and surrender your turn to someone else.

The trick is to remember what you’ve seen where, and after a picture has been shown, to remember its position. If you succeed in turning over two matching cards, you get to keep the pieces. The player with the most cards at the end wins.

Memory is one of very few early childhood games based on skill. Being able to re-find a picture you’ve seen earlier by mentally remembering where it’s hiding is difficult. Interestingly, 6 and 7 year olds are better at this than adults. They have an uncanny sense of what-is-where-when.

This idea of finding a good match can also be found in faith matters. Children accept what God says at face value, buying into him and his promises 100%, while we adults feel a need to thoroughly understand him before we can join him. In other words, we need to “match up” logic and probabilities before we can buy into what he says.

When the Lord says, “All things work together for good,” we say, “Well, not in my case.”

When he says, “I’ll never leave you,” we say, “It seems like you have.”

When he says, “I love you with an unfailing love,” we say, “Then why do I feel so alone?”

Children seem to effortlessly match themselves and their needs with what God offers: “You say I’m your child? Great! Then I’ll call you Abba.” (They may not know that word, but they have Abba-Daddy responses to him.) In their naiveté they seem to sense he’s a perfect match for them.

The good news for us older folk is that God isn’t put off by our tendency to doubt what he says. Thankfully he never stops offering himself as a match to us, not that we’re duplicates or equals in any way. But far superior to matching 2 picture cards in a game of Memory is the match he puts forward: our needs, with his sufficiency.  Pairing with him is always a win-win match, much better than anything we can win on game night.

“[God’s] Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children.  And since we are his children, we are his heirs. In fact, together with Christ we are heirs of God’s glory.” (Romans 8:16-17)

Dreaming of Chaos

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We all know God sometimes speaks to people in their dreams, or at least he used to. Just remembering Mary and Joseph brings a handful of examples to mind, since their God-given dreams directed their every move. Does the Lord still do that today?

Last night I had a heart-thumper. In the dream I was babysitting for all my grandchildren, having trouble keeping them straight. Although I knew who was who, I couldn’t remember which mother-instructions went with which child. I had a heavy toddler on my hip and a baby on my shoulder and was trying to put together a bottle with one elbow and my chin. I couldn’t remember, though, if I was supposed to use formula powder or regular milk.

When I looked at the two children I was holding, they were both asleep. Had they already been fed? Or did they fall asleep hungry? And who went into which bed? And which child was the bottle for? And was it really nap time, or should I wake them up? On and on my confusion swirled as the other 4 grands ran circles around me, begging for popsicles and M&Ms.

All of us have experienced real-life confusion that could rival that dream. A number of small glitches, surprises, or coincidences happening in quick succession can combine to create a major crisis. And the worst part is realizing it’s not a dream and that we do have to cope with what seems un-cope-able at that moment.

I find it interesting that the few places in Scripture where the word “confusion” appears, it’s either in reference to an attack from the enemy (“throwing people into confusion”), or an example of God forcing confusion on a group as punishment, sometimes labeled “a curse.” In any and all cases confusion is synonymous with misery.

I often joke about being confused, but according to God it’s no laughing matter. Instead I should work at eliminating it from my life. Although I don’t invite confusion, it seems to dog me anyway. Is it possible that ongoing inefficiency and poor planning might be the real culprits? Is my hiding behind the “I’m-just-confused” line a cover-up for pure weakness?

Actually Scripture teaches that it’s worse than that. In 2 Corinthians 12 we see “disorder” listed as one of 8 sins! “…quarreling, jealousy, anger, hostility, slander, gossip, conceit, and disorder.” (V. 20) Who knew?

If God was using my dream to speak to me, his message was one of two things: (1) babysit grandchildren one at a time, or (2) get rid of the confusion in your life.

In either case, I was glad that this time I could eliminate the chaos simply by waking up.

“Chaos calls to chaos, to the tune of whitewater rapids… Then God promises to love me all day, sing songs all through the night! My life is God’s prayer.” (Psalm 42:7-8, MSG)