“Learning and Unlearning”

A few years ago I had the opportunity to spend two weeks in Dublin with an Irish American folk singer named Jim Cole (He has a great old gospel number called “People Get Ready” that is worth checking out on UTube). There was this song that he performed regularly, which he wrote to describe his life as a born again believer in Christ, entitled “Learning and Unlearning”. It would be an apt title for this present season of my life.

LEARNING. Teachability is one of the essentials of the Christian life. Jesus called us to be disciples-a big word that means learners/followers-of Himself. In modern day vernacular the word disciple could be translated apprentice. As a learner, I like to learn things that are enjoyable. Paul calls this knowing Christ in His resurrection. But Christ is not one dimensional. In fact, to be resurrected one must first die. Death involves suffering. To learn Christ completely we must know Him in his suffering as well as His resurrection.  Since we don’t naturally choose this knowledge, He accomplishes this work by allowing, even orchestrating, adverse circumstances to intrude into our lives. “Beloved, do not think it strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you…but rejoice in the fact that you partake of Christ’s sufferings…” (1 Pet. 4:12-13). Through trials of varying intensity and frequency He builds in us Christ like character-“Tribulation produces, patience, and patience character…” (Romans 5:3-4).

Since September of last year I have had a character building season. Last fall, mom endured a bout with thyroid cancer. Soon after, my dad had a near death episode related to his pacemaker. The following month he had to have his pacemaker replaced. My wife, while six months pregnant, passed out at church and had to be rushed to the emergency room. Early this year, one of our elders had an allergic reaction during a leadership retreat way out in the boonies, and his breathing was nearly choked off by a swollen throat during our hour drive to the nearest hospital. Most recently, my newborn son was born with two heart defects.The less invasive, yet more pressing matter with his heart was to repair his Double Aortic Arch. Luke Anthony’s  aorta left his heart in the normal manner, upward and arching to the left. But he also had a branch that arched to right as well,

and this arch looped back around, connecting to the main stem of the aorta, encircling his wind pipe. This right aortic arch was the problem, because as the aorta grows it shut of his swallowing and breathing abilities. Surgery was successfully performed at Children’s Hospital, on May 12, to correct this issue, but not before we had an all night hospital run due to his labored breathing. The second condition is termed Vascular Septal Defect (VSD). In short, he had a moderate sized hole (we found out after surgery that it was a HUGE hole) between the two lower chambers (ventricles) of the heart. While not an uncommon condition, it required open heart surgery to be closed. This was surgery was performed successfully on June 2nd, yet it was much earlier than originally planned because of his lack of weight gain. Luke was hospitalized a week prior to the surgery due to severe dehydration and congestive heart failure. He returned home on June 6th and is recovering well!

I will not belabor you with all of lessons I have learned, or even the many lessons I have failed over the period described. I will, however, share the one overarching thing that the Lord has been teaching me, and that is this: that God’s presence and peace in any situation is more important that any situation itself.

UNLEARNING. Learning to unlearn. This is a continual process. A moment by moment process. Shedding my mind of all that I think I know in order to embrace what God wants me to know. This is tough. So many forces and experiences have shaped my perspective. From my family, to the religious environment I was or was not raised in, to the cultural setting I was exposed to; these things trick me into thinking I know something.

As I pastor I share. On Sundays I share a sermon. If someone calls with a dilemma, I give advice (hopefully from the word of God). If a person comes with a crisis, I say a prayer. If an individual approaches me sobbing, I share a Kleenex. I have always tried to live by a rule that once heard, “If your output exceeds your input then your upkeep is your downfall.” I have, living by this rule, always been very careful to guard my heart and my life so that I am always taking in more than I am giving out, no matter how many sermons I preach, how much advice I give, how many prayers I pray, or how many tissues I share.

It is the one thing I would say I have learned. Over the past six week’s of Luke’s life I unlearned all that I knew about this. About day ten of living at the hospital, despite my best efforts, I had nothing left in the spiritual, emotional or physical tank. Simply shot. The Bible’s words sounded as Charlie Brown’s teacher to my brain. No praying. Only groaning. Input
completely exceeded by output. And yet, right there in my weakness I experienced a strength and peace from the Lord that I neither labored for, nor, I ashamed to say, asked for.

Some of the strength was indeed supernatural. A peace that passes all understanding. A stillness in the heart in the middle of swirling happenings all around. But most of it was completely natural. By that I mean that I was refreshed and strengthened by the prayers, calls, e-mails, cards, flowers, care packages and visits from the saints. It was the love of God with skin on it. God comforting me through His beloved body, just as He describes in 2 Corinthians 1:3-4.

Through all of this I have had to unlearn how to receive love. At some point in this process I could no longer even respond to the outpouring of love adequately. Forgive me if I mumbled something unintelligible (something that happens often even in ideal circumstances), gave you a blank stare, or forgot to return your phone call. “Thanks” and “I sure do appreciate it”  don’t do your love justice, but, to my wonderful Heavenly Father, and to all those He has used to love my family and I through this I say, “Thanks” and “I sure do appreciate it.”

Baby Luke is recovering well. There is a picture below of him just minutes after his open heart surgery. I have shared it as a reminder to all who have prayed, that God answered your prayers. I also share it as an Ebenezer (public stone of remembrance) of God’s goodness, for my son and our church over the coming years. May the picture of Luke (he was named after the physician in the scriptures) having just had open heart surgery, open hearts (including Luke’s) to the much needed spiritual surgery of  the Great Physician.

God Bless,

Pastor Mike