BUILDING ON THE FOUNDATION

Chapter 7, (part 2)

"Nevertheless, God's solid foundation stands firm sealed with this inscription: 'The Lord knows those who are his....'" (The Apostle Paul, 2 Timothy 2:19 NIV)

It was during these times of reflection - when I could do little else but lay in bed and wait and wonder - I became acutely aware that on that foundation of faith in Christ, had been built several other key foundations. It is sad that we don't always think about what we have until we run the risk of losing it. Laying in that hospital bed gave me the opportunity to clearly understand this.

The second foundational strength in my life had become my family. I had been raised in a Christian family where love was freely expressed and where an emphasis was always placed on togetherness and faith. Growing up in Englewood, Colorado our family never missed being in church unless we were out of town. I was blessed with parents who supported and encouraged my two sisters in every way. We took great family vacations together, built wonderful holiday traditions, enjoyed playing cards and other table games, having picnics in the nearby Rocky Mountains, and participating in each other’s events and accomplishments.

Judy and I began dating in 1968. She still says that she fell in love with my family before she fell in love with me. One more reason to be thankful for a great family. So, when Judy and I were married in 1972, we decided that we wanted to make the same kind of commitment to family. Church participation, family vacations, special events, support of our daughters' interests and activities, and most importantly family devotions and prayer marked this commitment.

When our daughters came along, I was in Seminary, studying to receive my Master of Divinity. I had a great job working part-time as a youth pastor at the church in which I had been raised - Corona Presbyterian Church in Denver. I got to take Junior and Senior High Students on backpacking trips, bicycle treks, bowling nights, swimming parties, and all the other stuff youth pastors do as “work.” Every week we had Bible study and discipleship training. We even formed a small youth choir. I hung out with a bunch of guys, playing basketball on the asphalt court located in the church’s parking lot. Several kids off the streets would come around and play pick up games with us and eventually several of those guys trusted Christ and became active in our youth program.

During the first year and one half of my seminary studies Judy and I managed a small 22 unit apartment building. This enabled Judy to stay home with the kids. She did most of the paper work and managerial duties from our small two bedroom corner apartment. Even though she had always felt God’s calling in her life to be a teacher, she put that dream on hold for the sake of providing that early, all-important nurture to our two babies. When I would come home in the evenings, I would water the grass, tend the flower beds, tend to people’s broken garbage disposals, cabinet hinges or running toilets.

As Kresta and Melissa began to grow, they became a central part of our lives. We took them on visits to the zoo, picnics in the mountains, overnight camping trips (kids that age go through too many clothes to make camping any longer than one or two nights impractical).

As they grew older, we spent time every night reading Bible stories, praying together and then ending the day with a family back tickling session. They were happy days even though we didn’t have much. It was also great during those formative days for the girls to be in close proximity to both sets of grandparents and their cousins, the children of my sister Barbara and her husband Dennis. We all grew close to and appreciated this extended family.

That same commitment to our family carried forward when, after graduation from Seminary, I was called to be the Associate Pastor at First Presbyterian Church in Renton, Washington. We would go ride the ferry boat between downtown Seattle and Bainbridge Island, go on picnics in the mountains, play together in the park at the end of our street and explore the beauty and grandeur of the Pacific Northwest. Once again, extended family became important as my sister Jean and her husband Jeff began to have children. Jeff was the Program director at a nearby Christian Camp and we often went to SAMBICA (Sammamish Bible Camp) to spend time by the lake, play on the spacious grounds and share meals and pinochle games together.

Those times of closeness have carried our family through many interesting adventures and helped us all survive the shock of moving from Renton to the desert of southern New Mexico. When we arrived there, much to Melissa’s delight, we purchased a home with a swimming pool. The day we arrived, even though it was late October, she jumped in the frigid and unkempt, green water of that pool just because she could. As Kresta and she became teenagers, that pool and our home became a haven for great numbers of teenagers. I helped coach the Mustangs – a girls fastpich softball team. Judy took them to piano lessons and school activities. Between the two of us, we attended every recital, program, assembly and game the girls ever were a part of. In turn, the girls were with us at church, Sunday School and youth group. I would like to think that it was because they wanted to be there. We always told them that we didn’t do these things together simply because I was a pastor but because we were believers and we felt it important to share that part of our lives together.

The same year the new church building was completed, 1991, Judy’s father was tragically killed in an accident while working under his car in his driveway. Edith, Judy’s mom came to live with us in New Mexico. There was never any question about it. Our family was close and families take care of each other.

That commitment to family was, without my having realized it, one of the foundational supports that helped carry me through my accident and recovery. Judy, Kresta and Melissa were there for me, encouraging me, praying for me, keeping my spirits up through the whole thing. We continue to be there for each other even though separated by miles today. That foundation is solid and secure.

When I reached my mid-thirties I also realized a greater need to strive for physical fitness. This was rapidly becoming the third foundation of my life. I had always been involved in some sort of organized sports. Now I needed new motivation to stay fit. In addition to swimming, I lifted weights, worked in the yard and jogged several miles every day or went on a bike ride through the pecan orchards. A day didn’t seem complete if I had not done some sort of physical workout. Not only did it make me feel better, it kept a middle aged spread from expanding around my waistline; a problem that many people with sedentary jobs face.

Keeping physically fit was also the key to keeping emotionally and spiritually strong as well. A pastor is an administrator, counselor, preacher and teacher, comforter and shepherd through the times of grief and hardship in people’s lives. Trying to minister to all those needs can be wearing. Members of each congregation have strong opinions and difficult relationships. Dealing with all the issues a pastor deals with, I found that if I put in a vigorous workout, that stubborn committee person or trying parishioner didn’t get to me quite as much. Pounding the desert paths, while trying to do an 8 minute mile for 40 minutes, did wonders for my outlook on life and ministry. My wife and daughters could attest to the fact that I was always more pleasant to be around when I had kept my daily regimen.

Of course the most important reason for any cardio vascular exercise is to strengthen the heart muscle and the lungs. I had gotten my resting heart rate down to a meager 45 – 50 beats per minute which, according to the self-checking pulse and blood pressure machine at the local Smith’s grocery store, was that of an athlete. That vitalized heart and expanded lungs would serve me well in a way I could not have planned for. More than one person attributed my survival of the initial injuries to the fact that I was in excellent shape. I was glad that fitness had become a foundational support in my life.

Another foundation that we had unknowingly been building was fellowship. From the earliest days in our marriage, we found that the disciplines of worshiping corporately with a church family, participating in activities with other couples and being a part of a small support and accountability group were important vitamins for our spiritual health. They also produced lasting friendships and intellectual stimulation as, in a group, we would not only share ideas about life and faith, we would also listen to and be fed by the experience of the others. The richness of these experiences was deepened by the knowledge that these brothers and sisters were faithful prayer partners as well.

In small groups, we learned to be able to trust others enough to share our weaknesses and doubts. We did so knowing that those concerns were being borne on the shoulders of the members of our group. They promised to be praying for us daily, even as we promised to pray for them.

In Denver, we enjoyed such group fellowship with Ken and Kay, Quen and Judy, Scott and Leslie, Mike and Susie. In Renton, our fellowship was with Ron and Gwen, Jay and Mary, Don and LoAnn and Janet.

When we arrived in Las Cruces, it took some time for small group ministry to develop. Steve and Juli became our earliest, closest confidants and prayer partners. They remain so to this day. Steve took a job in a different part of the state. We would see each other two or three times a year. Each time, it was as if they had never left. That close fellowship, understanding, support and laughter picked up right where it had left off the last visit. Eventually we found ourselves in deep fellowship with Dan and Anne, Bob and Vivian, Bob and Barb. Later, our group expanded to include Mark and Tina, Thelma, Lynn, Bruce and Laurie, Brenda. It was this group that was together the night before my accident talking with and supporting Lyn as she pondered the possibility of God’s calling her to ministry.

That night was a meaningful one as we sat on our covered patio, enjoying a warm, dry breeze and watching the sun set far off on the western horizon. After concluding with prayer, we shared homemade ice cream and parted company, totally unaware of how that group had provided the strength we would need the next day. That foundation was an integral, vital link for the trial we were about to face.

Finally, we have found that having friendships – not always with church people – have been helpful in expanding our world view, getting us out into the world where our life and witness might be salt for someone else’s life. Judy had developed two very close friendships. One was with Anne, a member of our small group. Anne lived close enough that she and Judy could go on long walks together, discussing the trials and tribulations of raising adolescents, of being married to men who weren’t always as sensitive as they should have been and questions of faith. Judy and Anne have maintained this friendship through the marvel of email since Anne now lives in southern California and we live in Washington.

The other close friend in Las Cruces was Betty, a colleague of Judy’s at work, a nurse and a sister in Christ. She was there in the ER with Judy during the first traumatic and scary hours, offering reassurance, interpreting medical terminology and just being present to hold a hand, offer a Kleenex or simply share the quiet tension of the moment.

As for me, I had many whom I considered friends; very few could I call close friends. I am not sure if it true of all pastors but I felt it was difficult to develop a strong friendship – the kind of friend that Jonathan was to David – with one person. So many people demanded my time and interest. Maybe men in general have a more difficult time sharing such deep friendships as women.

But I did try to cultivate friendships outside the church. David, a friend who gave the Charge to the Pastor at my installation service in Enumclaw challenged me to develop friendships outside the church. It is sound advice. And so I had numerous friends, some within the church family, some from other churches and some friends through Rotary. Most of these men I probably didn’t value and understand as much as I should have. There was David, the local Campus Pastor; Daryl, the Associate Pastor at the other Presbyterian Church in town; Gil, the former Youth Pastor at the same church and then a teacher in El Paso; the fellow pastors of the Evangelical Ministerial Fellowship and the Las Cruces Ministerial Association; fellow Rotarians, Charlie and DeVon, the guys that I spent numerous late nights with along the shores of Elephant Butte Resevoir, fishing for white bass and Charlie, with whom we had gotten acquainted through Young Life Committee. We had also become good friends with a few neighbors with whom we shared backyard barbecues, chile roasting parties and other social get togethers.

Sometimes a person only comes to realize who their true friends are when the chips are down and they really need the support and care of a close friend to stick by their side. This became evident to us both – and to Kresta and Melissa whose own circles of friends supported them through this difficult trial as well. Friends became as strong a foundation for us as any rebar reinforced concrete might be to a large building. How we appreciated those friends.

All five of these factors came to be tested and stretched during the tumultuous events that began the day of my accident. Each of them proved to be solid foundations on which we could rest and find strength.

In February of 2000, Seattle experienced a 6.9 earthquake, centered along the Nisqually fault line some 90 miles south east of Seattle. Even though the degree of magnitude as strong, we were told it was a deep, rolling earthquake; the kind that doesn’t produce nearly as much percussive shock as other, surface quakes. Even so, many structures – bridges, houses, factories and downtown skyscrapers shook and rattled, sending frightened inhabitants out into the streets. Buildings whose designers had planned for earthquake remained in tact. Many older buildings did not fare as well and many suffered damage ranging from moderate to severe.

I learned that not only does a building need to rest on a solid foundation, it also needs to be designed with the capacity to endure the forces of twisting and stretching. That is true in life as well. Foundations are important like the foundations I mentioned earlier. But there is also a need in life to be able to flex and twist; to go with the flow as it were. Trusting in the sovereignty of God and in divine providence was helpful reassurance in the days following my accident. Each one of the five foundational pillars – faith, family, fitness, fellowship and friends stood the test. They were rock solid and we rested on them heavily.

When an accident happens, it is always unplanned and unexpected. We discovered this. In a period of just a few moments, our life and plans were thrown into complete disarray and uncertainty. Some people have their lives turned around through a longer course of devastating illness or inconsolable grief. Ours happened in the period of less than ten minutes. At 4:00, our lives were pretty well mapped out. By 4:30 that afternoon, nothing was certain any longer. We had to learn to “take it one step at a time.”

At one point along the way of hospitalization, surgery and rehabilitation, someone handed me a little booklet entitled "Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff" (and its all small stuff. That book’s title spoke volumes to us. The content of the booklet was short and somewhat bland, making it marketable to a reading audience that doesn’t like things that are difficult. We had to learn that in the grand scheme of things, almost everything that we ever worried about or stressed over was pretty small stuff compared to the struggle for life in which we were now embroiled. By virtue of circumstances beyond our control, we had to learn to flex and twist or else be shattered.

Strangely enough, just a few short months prior to May 8th, I had gone to Reformed Seminary’s Orlando Campus to audit a week long Doctor of Ministry course on Divine Providence, taught by renowned scholar and author Dr. R.C. Sproul. After reading books by Jonathan Edwards, Martin Luther and others, and sitting in on the lectures, I left with the absolute conviction that “there is not a maverick atom in the universe.” (Dr. Sproul’s phrase) In other words, nothing that happens in this universe or in our own private world happens outside the watchful, providential eye of an all-knowing beneficent God. By his decretive will (that is those things which come to pass just as God has decreed or spoken) and God’s permissive will (those things that are allowed to happen in our lives to strengthen us and not destroy us) God is always at work in the believer’s life to accomplish his overarching, pre-ordained plan for our lives.

We may not always know or be able to identify what that purpose’s long term implications or specifics might be. But we can rest in the knowledge that nothing can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:38) and that God is at work within us to do and to act according to his good purpose. (Philippians 2:13) The Psalmist averred that not one of our days passes without his knowledge and that before any of those days came to pass, they were ordained for us (Psalm 139:16 my paraphrase) We are God’s workmanship, created for good works that he has planned for us that we should walk in them.” (Ephesians 2:10)

Armed with such conviction, we found that, like the Apostle Paul, we were “hard-pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed but not in despair; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.” (II Corinthians 4:8–10). Further more, we found that “His grace was sufficient for us, his power is made perfect in weakness.” (II Corinthians 12:8)

That is not to say that there weren’t hard times; times of doubt, frustration, impatience, anger and sometimes resentment. As I live with partial paralysis in both legs due to this accident, there are still times when I wonder why God allowed this to happen. Perhaps I will never know the full answer to that question. It could be that someone reading these pages is encouraged or strengthened through some trial of their own that God’s purpose for me is fulfilled. Yet, I may never know if what we have experienced has helped someone else.

I do know that when the foundations were tested, they held solid. They permitted us to bend and flex with the circumstances, knowing that God would never allow anything to happen that was not part of his perfect plan for our lives.