The Way of Grace (eBook)
160 Seiten
IVP Formatio (Verlag)
978-0-8308-9707-0 (ISBN)
The Reverend Glandion Carney was associate pastor of pastoral care at St. Peter's Anglican Church in Birmingham, Alabama, until his recent retirement from active ministry. He was on the board of Renovaré for fifteen years, and he was also chaplain of the Christian Legal Society. Glandion and his wife, Marion, live in Birmingham, where he enjoys volunteering with the Parkinson's Foundation.
Richard J. Foster (D.Th.P., Fuller Theological Seminary) is founder of Renovaré in Denver, Colorado. He is the author of many books, including Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth, which has sold over two million copies worldwide, Prayer: Finding the Heart's True Home, Freedom of Simplicity: Finding Harmony in a Complex World, and coauthor (with Gayle Beebe) of Longing for God: Seven Paths of Christian Devotion. Marjean Brooks is a writer based in Birmingham, Alabama. She is a member of St. Peter's Anglican Church, where she met and connected with reverend Glandion Carney and his wife, Marion, eventually being asked to partner with him in writing The Way of Grace, his spiritual story of walking through the devastation of Parkinson's disease. She was honored for her work on this book as Writer of the Year at the Write-to-Publish Conference in 2015. Writing poetry, stories and articles on faith have been a lifelong interest and pursuit for Brooks, who has published poems, devotionals and articles in many ministry publications including Briarwood Presbyterian Church, Trinity Counseling and Wales Goebel Ministry. She has written personal memoir pieces in a monthly column in Senior Living newspaper and she serves on the board of InSpero, an organization that seeks to inspire the creative community in Birmingham. For twenty-five years Brooks has been leading hundreds of women in in-depth Bible study (mostly through Precept Ministries) and uses her writings to supplement the courses. Her hope is to combine her teaching/writing skills and her life experiences with divorce, being a single mom while pursuing a teaching career, re-marrying and gaining three step-children and caring for elderly parents in a way that can impact a greater audience and illuminate spiritual truth. The Reverend Glandion Carney was associate pastor of pastoral care at St. Peter's Anglican Church in Birmingham, Alabama, until his recent retirement from active ministry. He was involved in Renovaré for fifteen years in the capacity of spiritual director and board member. He was also chaplain of the Christian Legal Society for twelve years and has published works in periodicals such as Christianity Today in addition to numerous books. Glandion and his wife Marion life in Birmingham where he enjoys volunteering with the Parkinson's Foundation.
1
Facing Reality
The Grace of Acceptance
It happened so fast—my body wouldn’t cooperate with my mind. Never had I struggled with such simple things. I seemed to be all thumbs as I put on my clerical collar. It wouldn’t go on straight no matter what I did. My jacket got stuck halfway on; it felt like a straightjacket, binding my arms and preventing me from moving correctly. What was going on? Why was I suddenly so clumsy?
It was 2008, and I was leading a pastors’ conference in Kigali, Rwanda, walking men from many countries through steps of meditation, reflection and communion with God. During my trip to Africa, I had become increasingly tired, more so than I had ever been in the past. The work was grueling and the hours were long, but I had done this before and it had never bothered me. It felt like my thoughts were being stolen from my mind. I would begin a sentence and then midway I would not know where the thought was going.
My good friend William Wilson had gone along to minister with me. A former Trappist monk, he was now an Anglican priest like me. William noticed how sluggish and stiff my movements were becoming. At his encouragement I decided to go to the doctor for a physical when we got home. It seemed logical that I had picked up a virus or other illness while traveling.
My physician did his usual examination, but then asked me to do simple movements like walk a few steps and bend at the waist. He inspected my arms, knees and legs, and tested my reflexes. He shined a light in my eyes and then said simply, “You have Parkinson’s disease.”
Stunned, I questioned him. “How do you know? How can you say ‘You have Parkinson’s’ when you’ve done no test or bloodwork to determine this diagnosis?”
He looked me straight in the eyes and responded, “You are not smiling like you used to, and your face looks frozen in a frown. Your movements are difficult. Your joints are in pain. All this points to Parkinson’s. You can get a second opinion from a neurologist, but he will tell you the same thing.”
Words escaped me. I felt nothing. I was empty. Numb.
There was no brilliant logic to apply. There were no prayers to pray. There was no believing or trusting in God for the future of my life in general or my ministry. All was blank, as if erased. I walked out of his office in a fog. When I got to my car I wept like a baby, leaning on the steering wheel for support. I called my wife and told her. “The doctor says I have Parkinson’s.”
Marion dropped what she was doing at work and came home to sit with me in silence. That’s when feeling nothing moved to darkness and hopelessness. Like Job and his friend in Scripture, we sat in the ash heap of despair.
At that point I couldn’t see any applications of grace. No Bible verses immediately came to mind to soothe my dark and foreboding spirit. The words “you have Parkinson’s disease” played over and over in my mind like a record stuck on a track. I felt sabotaged. Tears of hurt, grief and fear fell unceasingly. I couldn’t stop them if I tried.
Many saints through the centuries have referred to tears as a gift:
The “gift of tears” written about by the desert elders and several centuries later by St. Ignatius of Loyola are not about finding meaning in our pain and suffering. They do not give answers but instead call us to a deep attentiveness to the longings of our heart. They continue to flow until we drop our masks and self-deception and return to the source of our lives and longing. They are a sign that we have crossed a threshold into a profound sense of humility.1
I couldn’t come up with any longing in my heart, except for this new diagnosis to be recalled. It was easier to deceive myself with the drug of denial than to begin the hard work of acceptance.
A Different Direction
The physician recommended I seek physical therapy. He reminded me this disease would take its toll over time; to slow the process I needed to change my lifestyle. Get more rest. Exercise more. Start medication. Eat well. It was all so overwhelming.
When I got up the courage, I made an appointment with the physical therapist. I walked into the rehab hospital not knowing what to expect. I was blown away. Hunchbacked patients, shaking violently, were straining to remain balanced while they walked. Most were suffering with the visible effects of Lou Gehrig’s disease, multiple sclerosis or Parkinson’s. So many diseases and disabilities were represented—you name it and they had it. I saw myself in them and I was scared.
When the therapist called my name, I jerked to attention. Instead of following him into the therapy session, I ran out of the waiting room in tears. I left and did not go back for a year. I have never confessed this to anyone before now.
This was not supposed to be my journey. How could I face it?
I had no direction or sense of destination. I didn’t even have a compass. The nothingness I had felt earlier turned into a dark shadow of gray with shades of anger. I was on a journey with no end in sight, not one I wanted, anyway. Severe difficulties had suddenly been thrust on me, and they hovered over my head like darkening clouds in a storm. Questions tormented me: Will I die? Where is God in the midst of this? Where is my courage?
I went to see a neurologist who was also a member of our church. After he confirmed the diagnosis, he explained that Parkinson’s is a disorder of the brain that leads to shaking and difficulty with walking, movement and coordination, and it continues to get worse. Seeing the immediate tears in my eyes, he came to my side, took me by the hand and said, “Just pray, Glandion. God will show you the way.”
Even after two doctors confirmed the diagnosis, it took me twelve months to accept it. During that year, I concealed my difficulties. Even though my wife studied to learn more about the disease, I refused to do so. I hid out like a fugitive. I denied everything. I foolishly thought that if I didn’t acknowledge the symptoms they would just go away.
One Sunday morning I was shaving in preparation for church when I heard these words in my heart: “Glandion, you don’t trust me. You say you do, but you don’t. You masquerade and cover up your weaknesses. You hide because you will not accept what I have allowed.”
It was Jesus speaking to my heart at the deepest level. It wasn’t a harsh rebuke; it was a gentle voice asking me to admit my weakness and come to the truth.
That morning I stood before my congregation as associate pastor and spoke these words: “As your priest, today I need to make a confession. I have Parkinson’s disease. I have been covering up my weakness, and I need to share it openly. I’m trying to accept it as a grace. I hope you will pray for me.”
Many came up afterward to speak to me: “My weakness is drug addiction,” “My weakness is pornography,” “My weakness is controlling others,” “My weakness is alcoholism.” We wept together, held by a powerful cord of acceptance and confession.
The spiritual director in me wanted to sit down with each of them over a cup of coffee to validate their experiences of integrity, honesty and true confession. You see, my conviction is that we don’t walk alone on the path of faith. We explore it together, learning about grace, trials and new beginnings. We may have different paths on the journey, but we all end at the same destination—the discovery of God’s faithfulness in whatever we face.
But how could I express this truth to them when I had not experienced it myself? I admitted my weakness and began to accept it. Now I had to act on it. It was the first step to healing and freedom. There would be many others.
A year after I initially visited that rehab hospital, I returned for physical therapy. This time I knew what to expect, and I was ready to do the work. Now what I noticed in the other tormented bodies was not their dysfunction but their eyes. Their eyes conveyed hope, courage and a will to overcome. The grace of acceptance allowed me to see them in a different light. Instead of running away from these fellow sufferers, I was motivated to join them. And I was moved to offer up deep prayer for them as a sign of accepting our common experience.
Another turning point in this journey of acceptance was the night my wife and I ate dinner at the home of my coauthor, Marjean Brooks, and her husband, Ricky. After dinner they shared a video with us, saying it reminded them of Marion and me. In the video, a man was sleeping on the couch. His wife talked excitedly about a new home improvement tool as she walked up to the camera, drawing us in. She guaranteed results and encouraged all viewers to watch her demonstrate. Marion was getting interested. She needed some things done around the house and had been trying to motivate me to do them.
As the woman on the video spoke, she rolled up a catalog in her hands. When she finished her spiel, she walked over to her reclining husband, whacked his backside with the catalog and yelled, “Get yo’ butt up!”
Marion and I laughed hard at that unexpected ending. In fact, that line has been a standing joke with us ever since. Afterward I felt as if I had been prompted: “Okay, Glandion, when are you going to ‘get yo’ butt up’ and work on your life?”
Like the main character Much Afraid in the classic allegory Hinds’ Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard, I glimpsed the journey with all its peaks, valleys and shadows. Just as Much Afraid took the hands of her...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 16.9.2014 |
|---|---|
| Co-Autor | Marjean Brooks |
| Vorwort | Richard J. Foster |
| Verlagsort | Lisle |
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Religion / Theologie ► Christentum ► Moraltheologie / Sozialethik |
| Schlagworte | acceptance • Amazing Grace • Autobiography • christian living • chronic illness • Community • Compassion • Courage • depressed • Depression • Disability • Discipleship • god's grace • Grace • Hope • Memoir • Parkinson's Disease • Renovare • sickness • Simplicity • Spiritual Formation • Suffering • theodivy • Trust • Vulnerable |
| ISBN-10 | 0-8308-9707-0 / 0830897070 |
| ISBN-13 | 978-0-8308-9707-0 / 9780830897070 |
| Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
EPUB (Wasserzeichen)Größe: 874 KB
DRM: Digitales Wasserzeichen
Dieses eBook enthält ein digitales Wasserzeichen und ist damit für Sie personalisiert. Bei einer missbräuchlichen Weitergabe des eBooks an Dritte ist eine Rückverfolgung an die Quelle möglich.
Dateiformat: EPUB (Electronic Publication)
EPUB ist ein offener Standard für eBooks und eignet sich besonders zur Darstellung von Belletristik und Sachbüchern. Der Fließtext wird dynamisch an die Display- und Schriftgröße angepasst. Auch für mobile Lesegeräte ist EPUB daher gut geeignet.
Systemvoraussetzungen:
PC/Mac: Mit einem PC oder Mac können Sie dieses eBook lesen. Sie benötigen dafür die kostenlose Software Adobe Digital Editions.
eReader: Dieses eBook kann mit (fast) allen eBook-Readern gelesen werden. Mit dem amazon-Kindle ist es aber nicht kompatibel.
Smartphone/Tablet: Egal ob Apple oder Android, dieses eBook können Sie lesen. Sie benötigen dafür eine kostenlose App.
Geräteliste und zusätzliche Hinweise
Buying eBooks from abroad
For tax law reasons we can sell eBooks just within Germany and Switzerland. Regrettably we cannot fulfill eBook-orders from other countries.
aus dem Bereich
