Archive for August, 2008

I just got knocked off my keister just 40 minutes ago

Most of the time, when I write one of these here blog thingy’s, I write to help myself process what I perceive to be God’s working in me, or comment from an observational perspective what has been on my heart and/or mind. 

I don’t really take myself seriously, and from the tone of my writings, try to be as light-hearted while at the same time being reverent as the occasion warrants.

Recently in a blog post, (and I will not name it and don’t encourage you to look for it) i used a word that to the Christian-ese world, people understand to mean one thing.  I made a very tragic mistake.  That word can be interpreted in a variety of ways, and to those not familiar with Christian-ese (and don’t worry, you’d be better off at times if you weren’t), that word can and does take on an entirely different meaning. 

The word wasn’t a cuss/swear word.  It wasn’t even meant in a crass, demeaning, or vulgar way.

However, that one word caused someone some pain.  They respectfully let me know that.  Never in a million years would I ever expect to hear from that person through this forum or any other. But I did hear from them.  And the point is, they were/seemed hurt at what I said, and for good reason.

i never wanted to cause them pain, nor meant to do that with my word choice.  But the point is:  i did.  And it wasn’t a necessary hurt. (sometimes people have hurt me with their words because their words were very true and confrontational that led me to change.  That’s a necessary hurt.)  I was careless, and not thinking.  And sadly, that describes me far too often.

Today,  I’ve been taught a powerful lesson in watching what i write and say very carefully.  I must not unnecessarily offend anyone with my verbage.  I’m not a shock jock, nor a comedian (and not giving them an excuse for doing that).  I can’t and must not be overtly offensive.  And with one word, I was.  Now, I’m kicking myself for doing it. 

Here’s what I learned:  It doesn’t matter what i mean by the words I say (especially when they can be taken more than one way) as much as how it lands in the eyes and hearts of those that hear and read what I write and say.  Becuase of that, I need to be quicker to NOT speak/write, and to be quicker to evaluate words.  They have more power than I realized.

I have apologized via email to the person that I offended.  My sincerest prayer is that they would know that the last thing I wanted to do was to cause them any pain. 

I AM AN IDIOT some times.  Most of the time.

God has laid some smack down on me just a few minutes ago.  And I have a feeling I’m going to be thinking a lot more (hopefully), and writing a lot slower.

Would you pray for me?  That I would not be needlessly and recklessly offensive?  Because honestly, that’s the last thing I would want to do.

But I do think I’ll be kicking myself for a while.

Jason

Did you catch the worship service on CBS/NBC/Fox/ABC last night?

I didnt’ see all of it…but there were elements of it all over the news last night and this morning.

84,000 people gathered at an outdoor stadium .  They were led in celebrative song by many accomplished artists.  They heard a compelling sermon that was delivered with fire, passion, and ownership of the message.  There were fireworks.  People were there from as far away as Africa. 

There were video screens to follow along, and people were raising hands, crying, and shouting in celebration.  People had paid according to some sources up to $80.00 to park 1/2 a mile away from the stadium, and had waited up to 5 hours to get in; in heat with a line a mile in length.  Many people stated how they were there to witness history.  There were t-shirts, bumper stickers, and hats available (selling well from reports), and people were encouraged to call and text message their friends to tell them about the goings on.

While things were going on before the main message, chants broke out of the refrain “Yes we can.” 

FInally, a 44 minute message concluded the festivities, with shouts of affirmation and cheering, along with copious amounts of crying.  “Change” was what was talked about, both our need for it individually and as a country.

Sound good?  It was.  Too bad it was the Democratic National Convention, and not a “real” church service (although I’m sure there were at least a few Christians there). 

Don’t blow me off because I’m white and Obama’s black.  THe same thing will happen again in just a few days in MInneapolis/St. Paul, Minnesota. (Hint:  Think Republican National Convention)

And this time, there will be women preachers err….Vice Presidents on the stage…………….

I wish my worship of Jesus was as exburant and enthusiastic as what I saw in honor of Barack Obama yesterday (and to his credit, he deflected it, saying it wasn’t about him.).

One day, it will be.  I yearn for that day.  But as nice a guy as Senator Obama seems to be, and as desirous of change as he seems to be, he’s not my savior.  He won’t save me.  He can’t.

He really can’t.

Neither can McCain.

Neither one shed his blood for my sin.  Neither one was a substitute in my place, absorbing the right anger of God to give me right standing before God.

There is only one.

And worship must be reserved for Him only.

Yesterday was called “history in the making.”  Yeah it was….only they got it wrong who was making the history.  I get it wrong far too often as well.  I need to get right about that…and not right-wing….just right.

Jason

 

 

 

contrary to what you have heard…..

Time doesn’t heal all wounds. 

I have experienced that revelation anew and afresh this week; over the last six days specifically. 

I went over to some friends’ house on Friday. Actually the word “Friend” is a bit too loose a word to connotate exactly what these folks mean to me.   I love these people.  They are family to me.  I am so grateful for their godly influence in my life, and for their children’s influence in my life.  I wouldn’t be the person i am (in a succintly “for better” part, as I am giving them credit for any good, not any blame for the bad.  I take total blame for the bad.) if it weren’t for God using them in my life.  All of them. 

They recently decided to leave our church.  I can understand why.  The particulars, while important are not so important to this story.  The emphasis is they are gone.

Probably for good.

And while our relationship is as solid now as it has ever been, I can’t help but feel like when I see them, a scab over my heart that was just forming, is ripped anew.

It’s not their fault.  It’s not their doing.  I am just mourning the fact that we are not sharing life the same way we used to. 

Saturday saw our student ministry go to Schilitterbahn an amusing trip to be sure.  But again, I was wounded and feeling wounded…..because I had another scab opened up.

See, ever since July 3rd, I’ve been feeling like things were getting back on track.  I received great news from the doc that I can work out again, lifting weights, with little restrictions (no military press, or pull ups).  There were normal rhythms returning. 

I then went to Schlitterbahn.  I don’t normally take my shirt off in public, nor did I there.  But at one point, I half-wanted to, and was reminded of a scar that will never go away.  And my pecs aren’t back to where they were pre-pacemaker, which means that it’s really evident that I have some ….hardware…in my body.  Plus, I rode two rides….one being the lazy river, so that really doesn’t count.  One ride, with two good friends, had me concerned most of the time for how it would affect “the maker.” 

Geez, I can’t even enjoy a water ride anymore.  I know, I know.  It’s ticky-tack, and at the end of the day, it shouldn’t matter.  God has given me breath and life right?

Yes He has, and yes it matters.

I was struck anew by the reality that I will never be the same.  No amount of lifting, cardio, pats on the back telling me “just like before” or anything will ever help me be the same.

Then there was Wednesday.  One of my dear friends (dear to me anyways) has been pulling away from me, it seems.  I thought we were okay, and again, a scab was beginning to happen.  Then, last night, during a time when I needed a boost the most, they were very cold to me.  Now, I’m gearing up for what may be yet another loss at a time where I can ill afford one.  Right now, it’s so hard to see what God is doing.  And I know I’m supposed to walk by faith and not sight…..but to be honest, both my faith and sight are dim. 

Louie Giglio did a two part series called “Hope when Life Hurts Most” that he released on DVD recently.  In it, he tells the narrative of a young college student named Ashley (sp) who journeys from party-girl to Christ-follower.  She dies tragically, and at her funeral, her atheist dad is confronted with the claims of Christ.  Louie does such a masterful job of weaving the story that I thought the dad would become a Christian. 

 Instead, Louie tells of how “there’s no bow” on the end of the story, indicating that her dad is not a Christian.  Soemtimes, God doesn’t give us the whole package with the pretty bow.  And He doesn’t have to.  Sometimes, the promise of the bow must be enough for us.  The promise that God will one day make it right. 

Faithful are the wounds of a friend.

What a friend we have in Jesus.

I bet I’ll see some scabs………and scars….when I see Him.

Time doesn’t heal all wounds.  Only Jesus does…..on His time schedule.  And that’s no bow…..but I guess a scab will do. 

Lord, help me be faithful in the meantime.

Jason

Pace: The Final Frontier…..for now.

Wednesday evening:  April 23, 2008

After the Notorious EKG, we are finally cleared to wheel on out to the car.  I haven’t walked a whole lot in the last 2 and a half days, but was nimble enough to make it to the car. 

You know, last post (or 2 posts ago) I stated that I wanted to go home so bad.  Well, that’s true.  But not total truth.

I wanted to go to church. 

To see my kids.  To let them know I was going to be okay.

I wanted to see them, if nothing else, so I could give them strength.  And to be totally truthful, I wanted to gain strength from them.  So we pulled up an I walked in.  My arm is in a sling.  I look like hell. 

I really shouldn’t be at church.  But I need to be.  I have to be.  I need this.  So Mandy willingly takes me, although she really wants to be home.  I’m grateful for her.  She showed me a lot of patient love by just taking me, even though she really wants to be home.  (Didn’t I say that already?  I learned that repetition increases emphasis)

There’s no right way to interrupt Tim while he’s preaching.  So I knock on one of the side doors to at least alert him that an unexpected interruption is coming.  People see me.  I get a cheer.  But some people are shocked.  Some cry, having never seen me in this position of weakness.

I start crying.  i’m a wuss!!  Tim is so gracious in handling the interruption.  THey had drawn on some posterboards some get-well wishes.  I’m genuinely touched.  I leave to go home.

We arrive home.  The journey is over.

But in reality, it’s only beginning.

Moment of clarity final:  I have no idea when I’m going to die.  So I better make use of this life now.  While I can.  I must (more and more) live life in light of eternity.  Once my time on earth is done…it’s done.

More to come,

Jason

I”m thinking of writing a book on the pacemaker experience

For some of you, you are still waiting on the first book idea, which is stalled, but in the works.

My two top titles are:  My Pace  and Pace Book.

What do you think?  Leave a comment with your opinion……even if you think I’m being a complete geek!

 

Jason

Pace-exploration……..coming to a close I promise

Wednesday afternoon-evening:  April 22-23, 2008

We are waiting for the doctor to come and give me the okay to go home.  I really want to go home. 

To sleep on my own couch.

To watch my own non-cable TV.

To regain some small sense of normalcy.

The minutes tick by like hours.  Every time the door opens, I reclaim a sense of expectation but it’s not the doctor.   Expectations up, and then dashed on the rocks.  Yet, every time the door opens, I still have a sense of hope.

The nurses I bet are getting sick of me asking:  When is he coming?  They head me off and let me know “Hey, I haven’t heard from him.”  “I’m sorry about all this.”  I’m okay with them.  I surely hope they don’t think I’m mad with them.  I just want to go home.  I want to go to a place where I have refuge.  I want to go to a place where I sense a measure of safety.

It’s near 6 p.m.  Discharging hours are nearing a close.  I am incredibly ancy.  I make Mandy, not normally an ancy person……….incredibly ancy.  Now, I’m affecting my wife in a negative way.  Then the door opens.  While I’m still hopeful, I expect it to be another nurse with another update.

And then I saw him.

He’s here.  The doctor is here.

Rescue from another night at the hospital has come….I hope.

The doctor looks tired.  I bet he is.  He’s seen patients all day who probably try his patience.  He looks at all the vitals and checks a few things.  Then, after mulling it over in his mind, we receive the happy news.

We’re going home.

It’s amazing what that news can do for me.  I immediately brighten up, sense a surge of energy.  I begin to change clothes, get packed up, stand up (For the first time in two days), and am excited.  Sure, all of these tasks are regularly boring…but now…they take on a sense of purpose!

Excitedly, Mandy and I prepare for home.  And just before we walk out the door (or to be precise:  Wheel out the door), there’s yet another snafu:

One more EKG for the road. 

Sullen, yet not shaken, we wait.

and wait.

and wait some more.

Seems like the computer and the wires are in a fight (Like the chambers of my heart), and they are not wishing to cooperate at all for anyone, much less the nurse charged with getting the test done.  Instead of looking at this comically and with a touch of grace, knowing God is in control, I internally throw a party of pity.

“Why can’t I just go home?”  “Why can’t I have a normal heart?”  “Why can’t we just be done with all this?”  I’m actually taken aback at how much rage I’m internally experiencing while externally remaining unflappable. 

I’m now asking myself some tough questions.  What is getting me so amped up?  I just was given extra life by Almighty God and I’m internally complaining whining about staying a few extra minutes?

I guess the drive to want to be home is much larger than I thought.

Looking back, I can now see some obvious connections to our journey with Christ.  We are exiles on this planet.  My home?  Yeah, it’s not really home.  Heaven is my home.  And I long to be there.

I long to be with Jesus uninterrupted by my sin or folly.

The fact that I really wanted to go to my physical home should drive me to want to go to my eternal home.  While I enjoy life on this planet, I look forward (hopefully) more eagerly to the life ahead of me with Jesus in His home.

Even when the days tick by like years, I need to reclaim a similar sense of expectation like I had when waiting for the doctor.  Even though now i see in a haze, I can still have expectant hope that Jesus will come.  I just want to go home. 

Moment of clarity 8:  I really hate waiting on anything.  And that’s not a good thing.  Because God makes us wait a lot.  And I need to not get used to it…but to grow in the midst of it.  I need to wait well.

The doctor is nice.  He’s smart.  He’s not Jesus.

My true rescue is found in Christ alone.  Period and end of story.

And one day, Jesus will take me home.  And while I wait, those tasks that I think are all-together mundane (you know, loving God and people…) can take on a new sense of purpose in light of His coming!

Bonus moment:  Rescue has come and is coming.  Jesus has rescued me from worse things than a stale environment or crappy food.  He has rescued me from sin, death, and the wrath of a holy God.  And rescue is coming.  I’m being rescued from me on a daily basis as God convicts me of sin and comforts me along this journey. 

And while my apartment is great….I still am yearning to go home. 

Heaven.

Where I truly, and most gratefully belong.

More to come,

Jason

Pace-exploration…..more…

 A brief recap:

Moment of clarity one:  Nothing shakes you like a forced ambulance ride in which you are wide awake.

Moment of clarity two:  You can fool everyone into thinking that your heart (physical/spiritual) is fine.  You can fool yourself into clouding over the problem by thinking “it’ll get better.” But deep down…you know.  And deeper down:  God knows.  You’re not fooling Him.

Moment of clarity 3:  You can’t shortcut a trial.  There is not a “pass go/ straightly to BoardWalk” option on suffering or trials.  God wants me to extract each moment I can from a trial to see Him and grow in Him.  And during the trial….it sucks. 

Moment of clarity 4:  No matter how much a control freak one tries to be…they can’t control everything.  And they are not better about control than God himself.

Moment of clarity 5:  God will use all different types of people….in all different types of ways…..to comfort you in times of trials and doubt. 

Moment of clarity 6:  There is a finality about death that should drive me to truly live.  The sad reality is….I don’t let it as much as I should.

Tuesday afternoon-Wednesday morning:  April 22-23, 2008

I am out of it.  Apparently, they gave me some half-decent pain medication (not the IV stuff…) in pill form that proceeded to knock me out and for a loop.  I slept through the Game Show Network lunchtime festivities of Old School Family Feud with Richard Dawson, Match Game ‘76 with Gene Rayburn and Card Sharks with Jim Perry.  What, you’ve never heard of these guys?  Geez……..

Mandy comes up to spend time with me, and I’m also alerted that apparently I slept through attempts for my mom, sister and stepdad to say “hi.”  Also, I missed a few other visitors who were very kind and signed a piece of paper alerting me that they wanted to say hi.  I growled at myself, because I geniunely wanted to see those folks. 

Tuesday evening is spent somewhat lazily, but gimme a break:  I JUST GOT A PACEMAKER!! :)

Wednesday morning is met with happy news.  The doc is going to come by and if all keeps going well, (which by grace it has so far.) I’ll get to go home tonight!!!

So we wait………..

and wait…………..

and wait some more………….

Really waiting here…………

One positive during the waiting is this:  I get to eat, and yes, it’s possible for hospital food to taste downright great.  I’m hungry and eat nearly everything.  I can’t move my left arm, which cramps my smooth eating style, but that small annoyance is lost in the fact that……..I GET TO EAT!!  Which leads me to the following:

Moment of clarity 7:  Why do I focus so much on what I can’t do/don’t have (waiting, cramp in style) when I have so much and can do so much (eating, get to live)?  Why do I focus on the negative when the 100,000,000 ton positive of God’s grace stares me in the face every moment of every day?

 

More to come,

Jason

Pace-exploration…..

I asked the lady before they left what the deal was, and she exclaimed that the girl “pushed and pushed me to come up here.  When are we going to see jason?” 

Moment of clarity one:  Nothing shakes you like a forced ambulance ride in which you are wide awake.

Moment of clarity two:  You can fool everyone into thinking that your heart (physical/spiritual) is fine.  You can fool yourself into clouding over the problem by thinking “it’ll get better.” But deep down…you know.  And deeper down:  God knows.  You’re not fooling Him.

Moment of clarity 3:  You can’t shortcut a trial.  There is not a “pass go/ straightly to BoardWalk” option on suffering or trials.  God wants me to extract each moment I can from a trial to see Him and grow in Him.  And during the trial….it sucks. 

Moment of clarity 4:  No matter how much a control freak one tries to be…they can’t control everything.  And they are not better about control than God himself.

Moment of clarity 5:  God will use all different types of people….in all different types of ways…..to comfort you in times of trials and doubt. 

Tuesday Morning April 22, 2008

I’m actually able to grab some sleep.  I’m nervous about the surgery, but what can I do?  That’s right:  Nothing.

My mom, stepdad and sister are here.  Mom must have driven for hours just to meet Kelli in the Woodlands by 6 a.m.  I’m so blessed to have them there.  We go down into the prep area waiting for surgery.  We see Mike and Cindy Waldrop there as well (Mike is one of the pastors on staff at FBC.  Cindy is his sanity.)

We exchange the small-talk I guess one undergoes before surgery.  The nurse says she needs to prep me.  Check out this awkward exchange:

“Mr. Hess, we’re here to prep you for surgery.  We’ll need to shave your chest.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

She opens my gown…and is gasping.  “No…..you don’t.”

“Tweezers please…”  One pull later.  “Wow….we’re ahead of schedule!!!”

“Told ya.”

They wheel me in to the surgery room.  They explain that they are going to cut my skin about two inches, and insert the pacemaker.  Now get this.  If that’s not wild enough….they are going to keep me AWAKE the entire time.

Don’t worry and don’t go out to get new glasses.  You read right.  I said “AWAKE.”

Apparently, there’s a way to keep one awake during surgeries.  And I am going to be awake.  They are taking two drugs that completely numb the pain, and will give them to me intravenously.  I’m glad I don’t remember their names, because if I did, I’d be a serious drug addict….and could tell the nurses from my room inquiring about my drug usage, “Why yes, I abuse these two drugs quite frequently!!!”

They keep me awake because I have to cough at one point, and answer a question at another.  I remember being awake, and aware that voices are going on.  But I don’t feel a thing……………

until I realize that they are putting pressure on my pacemaker.  While it doesn’t hurt, I can feel it.  They stitch me up.

It’s 95 minutes later and the surgery is over.  I’m being wheeled back into my room.  And this bomb drops:

My heart rate decreased to 20ish beats per minute while on the operating table.  Whether that was due to the surgery or the natural progression of how things were going I don’t know. 

So I have a nice, shiny new pacemaker.  Why am I so blown away by the news that my heart was 20something?

Moment of clarity 6:  There is a finality about death that should drive me to truly live.  The sad reality is….I don’t let it as much as I should.

More to come,

Jason