Christians and Suffering
I found some notes on a class I taught years ago on Habakkuk, one of the twelve minor prophets of the Old Testament. He really speaks to our times. Habakkuk recognizes like we do, that the enemy makes power their God. He tells God, “We are your people and we are not nearly as bad as these enemies who are defeating us. When are you going to free us?” And God answers, “This will end at my appointed time. You have to wait for it. The proud think they should have it their own way, but the righteous live by faith.”
And in Matthew 16:21-28, when Jesus begins to warn his disciples about his coming suffering and death, Peter says, “This must never happen to you, Lord.”
Habakkuk was upset about God letting his chosen people suffer. Peter was shocked at the idea of God letting His Son, the chosen one, suffer and die.
Jesus not only rebukes Peter, He calls him Satan! Ouch!! It sounds to me like Jesus was experiencing this as a temptation himself. But then Jesus says, “If ANY want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”
As American Christians many of us have bought into the American dream of happiness and prosperity in our life on earth. After all, we are the good guys. We are the chosen. What’s with this suffering?
Guess what? Jesus did not suffer on earth so that we would not have to suffer on earth! Remember what the early Christians faced? When did we decide that because we “Follow Jesus,” we shouldn’t suffer on earth? When did we decide that loving others enough to suffer for them wasn’t on our to do list?
What makes us as Christians, think it’s just about claiming Jesus as Savior, but not following in His journey as Lord? I did Christian work, I was kind to people, I grew in my ability to love another person more than myself. But the call to let go of the life I thought we had earned for our later years has been much much harder.
I’ve been listening to caregivers for parents or spouses with Alzheimer’s on line. Over and over, one person or couple are carrying all the burden because their siblings or children want to enjoy their hard-earned retirement. It seems the idea that we work to earn atime of pleasure without suffering or responsibility for others while we are still here on earth is the American Dream even for many Christians.
I had hoped to find some meaning in my journey of having Alzheimer’s by sharing what I’m learning by being on both sides of it. But I realize only the grace of God can get people through either side of this.
Jesus never promised the Apostles or disciples a heaven on earth. He said, “Accept your cross to follow me.”
His spiritual journey was one of constantly expanding whom he should actively care about: the soldier of the enemy government – who do we consider supporters of the enemy government? He cared about the lepers of his time. Who are the lepers of our time? Who are our heretic Samaritans? Who are like the traditional Jews who clung to the laws instead of learning to love? Who are those controlled by their inner demons? Who are the old and fragile widows outlivingtheir financial security and their mental acuity? Jesus cared about all of them. And now….. we are his hands and feet.
I confess, I did not realize that when I signed up for Jesus as Lord, not just as Savior, what a big difference there is in those, But, like Thomas, if this is my cross where Jesus is leading, I will have to pray constantly for grace to follow, because I can not do this on my own.
Reflections on My Journey through Alzheimer’s
I am trying to write about and share my current journey with Alzheimer’s in the hope that it might help others.
Most people live mentally in the safety of the past or the freedom of the present moment. Often this limits recognition of the need to accept change, particularly the kind that comes with old age. When our bodies or minds betray us, we cling to our familiar surroundings as safe places because relocating is frightening.
But I personally have always focused on both the positive and negative possibilities of the future. When at 88 I was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I knew from my mother’s fourteen-years with it that I might soon require caregivers. I don’t have enough money for a Nursing Home. After asking God to tell me when I needed to stop driving, I had two altercations with stationary objects. I took that as the answer that I needed to stop driving. Shortly afterward I started living every other three months with two of my children and their spouses, which gives each couple breaks and I help some with groceries. But this way the money I have won’t continue to be used up by rent and utilities if they ever need the help of paid caregivers. And at this point I’m only a mild challenge.
Many friends don’t recognize that I have Alzheimer’s because I’m only with them for short times and my age group is mostly a bit forgetful anyway. And I’m still aware enough to make lists and keep a calendar with me. Most of my forgetting involves words and names. Thanks to my computer and Google, I can still write, though it is much more tedious. Probably because of my mother’s Alzheimer’s, I recognized the beginning symptoms and had a Nuclear MRI that showed that there were areas of my brain not getting enough blood. I’m now 89, but my doctors say I am very healthy and may live a lot longer. So, I am getting infusion treatments that may slow down the losses. I go to Twelve Stones Infusion Centers in both Nashville and Memphis. These are some of the best hours in my old age life. The personnel are not only efficient and kind, but hilariously funny and fun. I look forward to this hour every two weeks. And they have uplifting scripture quotes all over the walls and offers for prayer either with or for you. And in the information handout they stress that all genders and combinations are equally welcome. Also to ask if help is needed for financing. Since I have four generations of gays and lesbians and one trans in my family that I know about. I see this as a plus.
I’m consider myself blessed to be one of the 30 % of those with Alzheimer’s who are aware of having it. I think that helps on both sides, mine and my family’s. But I also admit that I would never have made it this far in life without accepting the unconditional love of God fleshed out in Jesus. My mom didn’t know she was losing it mentally. She once said, “Am I doing something wrong? I can tell by your face that I’m upsetting you.” There have been a lot of hard challenges in my life and I was losing it in many ways in the early easier times before grace became a conscious part of my journey. But mom’s slow dying by inches for fourteen years tested my faith more than anything else. A few days after her funeral I was waiting in my car for a friend and mentally yelling at God in anguish, “WHY? WHY! WHY!” I wiped away tears and tried to get a grip by going into a small shop there. The first thing that jumped off a stand at me was a card with big letters in bright colors that said, “EARTH HAS NO SORROW THAT HEAVEN CANNOT HEAL!
Wonderfully, in my old age, I have become much more able to live in the present moment. And one of my best gifts is being able to laugh at myself, so now I get to laugh a lot more. A sense of humor is definitely a survival skill for old age. Playing a word form of Charades when I forget something can be fun with family.
Perhaps the biggest blessing is that in the past I have received grace to grow stronger and more loving most often through the hard times. So, I pray for grace to somehow make it through this at least being aware enough to be kind.
Please feel free to pray for that.
Richard Rohr on Mother Teresa’s Ministry
I do not believe that the lifestyle of the Missionaries of Charity answers all questions or that they are holier than many other Christians I have met. Yet there is a radical and utterly clear gift of God that is revealed through them. I even dared to ask one of the leaders about one of the most common criticisms of Mother Teresa: “Why did Mother not speak out against social injustice? Why did she not point out the evil systems and evil people that are chewing up the poor?”
The answer was calm, immediate, and firsthand. Mother Teresa felt that if she took sides, or played the firebrand, that she could not be what Jesus had told her to be—love to and for all. She said that if she started correcting and pointing out “sinners” she could no longer be an instrument of love and reconciliation for them. Like her patron Thérèse of Lisieux, “her vocation in the church was to be love.” She knew that her primary message had to be her life itself.
Memories of One Unfinished Much Loved Child of God
Chapter One
New Orleans, the French quarter, born in the heart of Dixie Land Music. Want to have “When the Saints Go Marching In” played as people leave my funeral. Shrimp Creole, French baguettes, and Eggs Benedict still on my favorites list.
Memories, when still in a crib around the age of three, looking out the window of the Pontalba Apartments on Jackson Square and seeing my parents walking away under the street lights. Feeling terrified, not knowing the doors between the next apartment were open so they could listen if I cried.
Early criminal instinct killed when Mom found a toy watch I stole from my friend’s house. The spanking wasn’t so bad but returning it along with my favorite doll did the trick.
Still remember the music and excitement of sitting on my dad’s shoulders catching beads thrown from the Mardi Gras floats.
Happy times sailing my sailboat on a long narrow pond. It always capsized before reaching the end. But I could not be consoled at five when we were moving to St. Louis on a train, so we sailed it out into the dark waters of Lake Pontchartrain. I didn’t care if it would make some other child happy when they found it.
But I have good memories of return trips to visit dad’s family and as an adult revisiting the Quarter including Pat O’Brien’s Bar and going to the large cathedral looking Catholic Church near Tulane that my grandfather built.
On one return trip as an adult, I was standing on Bourbon Street in the Quarter at night. This was some years after my conversion to a relationship with Jesus as the expression of God’s unconditional love, rather than a particular religion. I stood there enjoying watching very varied people and places. On the corner was a crowded bar open to the street with loud jazz flooding the area. Next to it were some transvestites in beautiful gowns on a balcony inviting people in for a show. In front of that building there was a preacher giving out religious tracts and urging people to repent. Next to him were some small black boys dancing for coins. On the opposite corner at a safe distance was a group of tourists sort of glued to each other for safety, suggesting maybe a group of Baptist Sunday school teachers in New Orleans for a convention. A steady mix of very varied people poured down the middle of the street. There were solid looking tourists in Bermuda shorts with cameras hanging around their necks, college students carrying Pat O‘Brien’s Hurricane glasses. and even a couple of priests coming through from St. Louis Cathedral on Jackson Square. I experienced a strong and wonderful sense of being part of God’s motley crew; all of us loved just as we were.
THE JOURNEY THROUGH ALZHEIMER’S: MY MOTHER’S AND MY OWN
I’ve had a hard time forgiving God for my mother’s fourteen years of dying by inches with Alzheimer’s. I could not see any good coming from it.
It hit me today, that my walking with her through that gives me a heads up on my journey with it. And since I am aware of my losses partly through seeing hers, I can share the journey and the grace I am finding in it. Not sure how this can help others, but hoping it can somehow.
TO BEGIN WITH A WARNING: I did fine on the verbal tests the doctors give. I took them in the morning when I am usually at my best. I had to fight to get the Nuclear MRI test that shows the damage to the brain. It showed a definite area of my brain that is no longer getting oxygen through a blockage to blood flow.
But the classic symptom I myself had missed recognizing was forgetting what I did and becoming paranoid and blaming others. Often people with Alzheimer’s misplace things and think caregivers or others are stealing them.
In my case, driving back from Nashville after not sleeping on the plane trip from Portugal, I was so tired that I was afraid I’d fall asleep on the way to Dickson. I decided that a milkshake would keep me awake long enough to get home, instead of coffee which might keep me from much needed sleep. So, I stopped at a Sonic that didn’t have a drive through window. On the back side there were open slots, but pulling into them showed a sign that they were out of order. I pulled into two and finally on the third, I was trying to see if the sign was on its menu without pulling all the way in. Focused to the left I heard a “Klunk” to my right. I thought my right mirror had hit the right side menu but backed out without any change on the mirror. Since that one was out of order too, I gave up.
The next two days I didn’t leave the house between jet lag sleep and unpacking. On the third day I went to the grocery, not noticing a large dent and a long streak of yellow paint down the passenger side of my car’s hood! Sometimes I’m too focused and oblivious to the obvious!! In my defense, I’m very short also!
On the fourth day I noticed the damage and forgetting the “Klunk” decided that there was no way a truck or car could have done this because of where the car had been parked ever since I came home and even at Walmart. I had a Democrat candidate’s hat on my dash board facing front and I decided that someone in my neighborhood had made a political response!!!
I reported this to our wonderful apartment manager and he didn’t think any of my neighbors would have done this, but said I should report it to the police. Well, two child police came and were obviously convinced I had done this and was lying. I was furious that just because I am old, they treated me like I was senile or lying. My insurance people were great, but did want the police report.
In the middle of the night, I woke up with the horrible memory of the “Klunk” at the drive-in!
Early the next morning a police detective called. And I confessed the whole scenario to him, complete with apologies to the child police persons. Since my altercation with a menu was not in Dickson he closed the file. I confessed to the insurer and they still paid for the repair.
I was pretty sure the damage to the car was worse than to the menu and didn’t feel any responsibility for it, but I did pray that God would let me know if I should quit driving.
Two weeks later in a parking lot downtown, I backed into a pole. There was no damage to car or pole, but I decided this was God’s way of getting me off the roads.
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Sexual Morals and Love in our Day
I’m turning 89. My generation grew up not even knowing what queer meant. We knew boys who seemed feminine. My brother, who is very religious, dated a woman for ten years who was happy to be treated like a sister. At 40 he gave up and accepted that he was gay because he wanted to love someone his whole life. He and I discovered that we had lesbians in two generations of both sides of our family. We discovered the first, a great-great aunt who in the turn of the century in the late 1890’s became a pediatrician and founded a clinic for poor children in California. I saw a beautiful woman in a long dress in a photo of my cousin’s family album and asked who she was. When told of her achievements at a time when she would have had to been amazing to do this, I asked why I had never heard of her. My cousin pointed out another woman in the background of the photo and said, “Well, she lived with this woman all her life.” My brother and I also agreed that on our other side, a great-aunt who was very masculine and lived a very sad solitary life was also gay though she chose to live her life alone. My brother and his spouse have been together over 35 years. So, I was prepared then when one of my sons came out after college and moved to California where it was more acceptable. He and his husband have been together thirty years. Another son also decided he was gay at about thirty. My husband has one gay cousin that we know of. So, I’ve become pretty sure it’s a recessive gene that has to be on both sides of a family. We now have a grandchild that is trans. My brother and one of my gay sons have always been very religious and kind. And my other son and my grandchild are two of the kindest people I’ve ever known. In my spiritual journey and my sixty year heterosexual marriage, my experience has led me to see marriage as the best opportunity to make the journey from the neediness of a baby to the spiritual maturity of being able to love another person more than yourself. Our current sexual permissiveness for heterosexuals is much more likely to create children born into situations that are tragic. I personally did not choose abortion as a Catholic though I almost died having a fifth child by Cesarean Section when my church taught me it was wrong to use birth control. I have come to see NOT using birth control as one of the greatest evils we are currently doing since more children are suffering from that. Interestingly enough, if being gay had been accepted all along, so gays didn’t marry women and lesbians didn’t marry men trying to conform, maybe the genes would have died out by now! My first experience personally of becoming aware of gays was when taking art classes from gay teachers, which opened my eyes to how much better gay men treat women, even ugly women and old women. They treat us as interesting individuals and friends. Gays often have more women friends than men, because they treat them as people, not sex objects. I am a born again Christian, who has experienced the unconditional love of God expressed in Jesus and many miracles, including in my last years becoming free of judging people, even the judgmental people who find safety in the rules as they have learned them. I don’t agree with them and I see the terrible harm it does, but I understand them. Once you understand people, you may not agree and may work hard to make society more loving of minorities, but understanding frees us of hating and judging.
From Religion through Agnosticism to Jesus
I became an agnostic but came back to a very alive and relevant relationship with Jesus not connected to any religion. I went back to the Catholic church as a missionary. But Vatican II had changed the church enough that I could celebrate the spiritual journey of Jesus and the Holy Spirit there as our own. Years later I left again, because I wanted to share my experiences of freeing love and women couldn’t preach there. The liberal Presbyterian USA gave me that freedom. Though they stress mostly feeding and housing the poor or broken, more than the transforming grace of a relationship with Jesus that helps us in following Jesus’s life pattern of expanding our understanding of whom God loves. I think every original creator of any religion “got it.” But by the third generation, religion becomes about power…. thanks in a large part to being controlled by men. Fear is the root of all evil. When religion becomes about safety or power it loses the point of being about love. To me we enter a journey from the need of a baby to the freedom to love our unfinished selves and like Jesus eventually to even love those that disagree with us, the friends that abandon us, the enemy, and ultimately even God in those times when we feel abandoned by God also. To me the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. God is ALL. We are part of God and the Spirit of God is part of us and can along the spiritual journey become a larger influence in us. We are ALL in this together, believe it or like it or not. It’s about love, not salvation or power.
Laughter: Carbonated Grace 