He's Back!

Sunday, August 7, 2010, our pastor, Stan Buck, was back in his spot at our church. He hasn't been in his spot since May 15th. On May 19th a brain tumor was discovered and May 20th it was removed

Its been a long eleven weeks.
Its been a miraculous eleven weeks.
Its been an emotionally draining eleven weeks.

If you go to church, you know that many of us have "our seats". Mine is in the front, third row, right side, on the end. I sit here because I am easily distracted, in this spot I can focus more easily on worship and the message. Our pastor sits two rows in front of us, and its been unnerving to not see him in his spot this summer.

But this past Sunday he was back! I didn't realize how much I appreciated seeing the back of that guy's head over the past nine years! Its hard to articulate what it felt like. It was overwhelming, it was comforting, it was joyful, it was evidence of the grace of God. It warmed my heart and made my feet move during worship.

He will be preaching "Messages that Matter" over the next three weeks, I cannot wait to sit under his teaching again. I am overjoyed by his return. I am praying still for his recovery. I am mindful of God's grace. I am aware of my own brokenness and mortality. I am stronger for this even as I feel weak in the knees.

In all of this, with hands lifted high - in grief and in joy -  I am again made aware that God is good...all the time. No matter what.

Click here for "Face Down" my first post about this.
Click here for "Getting up to Follow" my second post.
Click here for the messages from Sonrise Church, Southwest Campus

Getting Up to Follow

When I woke up the morning after hearing the pathology report of Stan's (our pastor) brain tumor, I thought I would feel better. I didn't. But I knew I was going to pray with some others that morning and there was hope in that. We read scripture, sang worship songs, prayed and talked. This news is too heavy to carry alone; it weighs me down and fogs me up, I have to give it Jesus and trust in the love of the Father. I had a great need to worship with my church family this morning, and I know I need to be led through this.

Fortunately, Stan Buck, the founding and lead pastor of our church, is leading still, and its some of his most powerful leadership. He trusted God immediately and completely with the news of the tumor. On May 31, he posted this on his Facebook page:

My soul is finding rest, my body is healing! Feeling very good, sensing a deeper renewal coming in my body, mind & Spirit! This surgery surprised me - but this season of healing is allowing me to go deeper and grow!Embracing this weakness, becoming stronger by grace! (2 Corinthians 12:9 I'm grateful - prayed for - finding a peace in being made more whole in being who God has created me!

One of our other pastors has met with Stan and reports back that Stan keeps saying that nothing defines him except for this: he is a Bondservant of Jesus Christ. (You can click below to read more about that term.)

On his CaringBridge web page the other day, his wife wrote that Stan is feeling physically good (which is amazing, considering he just had brain surgery) and that he is enjoying playing the piano and guitar and singing songs to the Lord. Singing songs to the Lord. What a leader. The power of his leadership today is undeniable. The places he is taking us, without even talking with us (he is fasting from email, texting and Facebook), is deeper than I have been. He is reminding me of David, assaulted yet singing songs to the Lord.

Stan has been our pastor, our friend, our leader, my boss (while I worked on staff for four years), and my mentor in many ways. He has been one to re-direct me as well as tell me that he is proud of me, so this is personal. The day Stan received the pathology report, he wrote down a few words for his daughter to post on CaringBridge, it ended with this: My soul finds rest in God. (Psalm 62).

So I guess mine will too. Lead on teacher, we are following.

Bondservant        Previous Post: Face Down

Face Down

I'd like to say I am still standing, but it wouldn't be true. I will be tomorrow, but tonight I am on the floor. A leader, a friend, our pastor received word that the tumor removed from his brain, that two weeks ago no one even knew was there, hasn't had the last word yet.

The fight is just beginning, and the warriors are spreading the news that its time to get in position. But the position many are finding tonight is prostrate. Maybe this isn't the worst position to begin in. To be prostrate is to cast (oneself) face down on the ground in humility, submission, or adoration. I feel humbled as I lay here knowing there is nothing I can do to make this better for our friend, his wife, his daughter, or his other daughter. I feel submitted to God, who will determine what is next. I adore the one whose feet I lay at, for he is the one to restore peace, confidence, healing, and that which we don't even know to ask.

Tomorrow I will stand back up. We must stand back up. We are waging a battle and the truth is, victory is already ours. Tonight, rest if you are down, because tomorrow we are going to get up ~ and we will stand strong. Our leader is living for God's glory - and we will join him in that.


Then David said to the whole assembly, "Praise the Lord your God." So they all praised the Lord, the God of their fathers; they bowed down, prostrating themselves before the Lord and the king. 1 Chronicles 29:20.

The Team

I believe being on the team, in the band or part of the club is important in school - especially in high school. Yesterday I saw another reason our kids' involvement can be vital.

Through football and wrestling, Zach has come to know Landon pretty well. Landon lost his dad to cancer last Monday. I cannot imagine. The grief my son felt on behalf of his friend was apparent. He immediately did what he could to let Landon know he was there for him.

Yesterday was the funeral. It was something to see so many students sitting as a group in the front of the church. The support these kids showed was a sign of community, care, friendship and love. On one side of the church, the grief of the family penetrated the entire room. On the other side of the church the quiet support of the kids made a statement no one could miss. We are here for you.

One of the football coaches spoke about the first time he met the father, Tim. Tim had introduced himself and when the coach mentioned what a hard worker Landon was, Tim asked if the coaches would also help him watch his grades. Instant community, a village mentality, let's help each other, all of this was there. A support team created for the family as well as the son.

The coach also spoke about the night the father took him aside after a game and told him about the cancer. He and his wife were going to tell their three kids that evening and wanted the coaches to know. The father was asking the coach to look out for his son, he was in for some rough times in the next days. At one point he also told the coach, I may not be around for Landon's senior year, watch out for him for me.

Because the son was a part of a team, the father had a team to tap and the assurance that someone had his back.

Being a part of the team, band or club is important, it gives our kids a place to belong and connect. It creates accountability, character, discipline and more. It also creates a circle, which can close in tight when needed. It grants influence and assistance to other adults who can be there when we cannot.

Rest in peace Tim Hughes. The team has stepped up to the line.

A Real Man

Brian Marshall was a great man. He passed away in 2004. Kevin and Brain had become friends through the workplace, and when we work closely with people we learn a lot about who they are and what they stand for. Kevin got to know Brian pretty well and was impressed with his character, integrity, intelligence, work ethic and values.

When it became clear that Brian's life on this earth was coming to an end due to cancer, Kevin wrote him a letter. The letter had a few purposes, Kevin wanted Brian to know what he thought of him and of his impact, but even more importantly, Kevin wanted Brian's boys to know what kind of man their father was. He knew due to their young ages they might not remember. Kevin wanted something in writing for those boys, something they could turn to at any time, a way for them to know what others thought of their dad.

When Brain passed away his wife shared the letter with their parents and then with their pastor. The letter was printed, in part, on the back of the funeral program. Here is that portion of the letter ~

Brian,
I used to think I knew what it meant to be a man. A man is big, strong, tough, brave and independent. To some extent that's true. I have discovered a REAL man is much more than that. A real man is intelligent, righteous, honest, selfless and courageous. It is hard to be a real man. It is lonely being a real man. It means putting your needs last, no matter how great your needs are. It means taking care of others, when you deserve to have others take care of you. It means being a leader when you aren't sure you can find your way. It means being brave when those around you are frightened. It means taking the right path, not the easy path. 

Seven years later Kevin found out just how much those words resonated with someone else. In recent leadership training at work the concept of the shadow of a leader was discussed. This is when those in positions of leadership, through their behavior and actions, tend to influence the behavior and actions of those around them, thus “casting a shadow". 

A co-worker, Steve, stopped by Kevin's office this week and told him You don't always know who you cast your shadow on and what kind kind of meaning it has. He wanted Kevin to know that the letter that was read at Brian's funeral cast a shadow on him and that those words have been influencing him since. He has kept the funeral program near and has even used Kevin's words to teach his boys what it means to be a real man. He then gave Kevin a box which held a plaque etched with the above words.


Our Real Man
(in El Salvador)

 I am grateful for many things today ~

• For men like Brian Marshall, who lived his life - literally to the last day like a Real Man.
• For Steve, who gave the plaque to Kevin. He surely has walked with intention in the ways of a Real Man, and I believe real men fortify our families and communities.
• For Kevin's words to be put before me again. To recognize what a Real Man is, you must be one. Kevin is and we are blessed.
• Grateful that our sixteen and thirteen year old sons have the definition before them. Not only is this the definition their dad uses, but it is who he is recognized to be; may they grow up to be Real Men.
• Grateful that our thiretten and eighteen year old daughters have their dad as the standard. May Real Men enter their lives at the right time and may they recognize them easily due to the first Real Man in their lives.
• To be reminded that we influence others, even when we are unaware.

Perspectives....

I posted here today.

A Bad Word - and - a Word of Hope.

I received word late last night that a friend, who is a part of my very fabric, heard the C word in relation to her own body. I am saddened for what she is going through. I am grieving for the loss of peace she feels in her mind as she waits for a report that will set the course for what is next.

It was an odd mom moment. I was in the kitchen when Zach walked in to find me crying. He came over and put his arm around me and just waited. I could hear Erin tell Kevin that I was crying. Then there were four of us in the kitchen. Mom in the center crying, kids comforting. Odd.

After I had crawled into bed, Zach came down and taped a note to my door. This is what it said:

Thyroid Cancer:

a Only 3.4% of women diagnosed die from it each year

a Most common cancer = easiest to treat

a Where only part of the thyroid is removed, no further treatment is necessary

a 95% cure rate

a More drugs have been made to cure thyroid cancer

a Even if the cancer has metastasised it is easy to cure

a Just some encouraging facts to help deal in a rough time.

I'm not even sure what the point of this post is. Maybe to express what a humbling and grace-filled moment it is when your child gets to a place where they reach out to you in what you hope have been ways you have reached out to them.

Maybe it's that we've all been in those awkward places where we just are not sure what to say. Was it awkward for my son to see me cry? Possibly. But Zach lent a word that gave some hope. We could all take a lesson from Zach and be encouraged to say something in those times...if even to tape it on a door. Last night I said little (in sticky note terms, one sticky notes worth) and hoped it felt like an arm around her shoulder. Thanks Zach.

And friend, did you see that note up there? We've got this. I will be there soon.