John Stumbo's blog

About Formulas, Faith and Life Change

nospam@example.com (John Stumbo) — Thu, 09 Sep 2010 09:18:35 -0700

When I was released from ICU and it appeared that I had dodged death, I remember people saying things like, "I can't wait until you are well enough to preach again. You are going to have such profound insights from this experience." People hoped I had a glimpse of heaven, assumed I had significant encounters with God, and just knew that I would have life-changing truths to share with the world. The formula was: "The worse the crisis the greater the lessons."

Maybe in time this will be true. Maybe with enough reflection I'll be able to articulate some earth-shattering principles. But meanwhile, the only thing "profound" that I feel is profoundly disappointing. If you are looking for some new, life-changing, power principles I'm not going to be of much help. I didn't get a tour of heaven or a personal revelation. What I did get were mounds of medications, days of hallucinations and months of rehabilitation.

In case I sound negative, let me hasten to say that this has been a life-changing experience. I'm not the same man I was before. Frankly, I miss some of the old me; but he seems to be pretty well gone and a different character emerged out of that ICU ward. Don't get me wrong, I still recognize myself—I still have some of the same passions, interests and personality as before. But, in countless areas, I'm a different man. My wife will vouch for this as well.

I'm beginning to think that this is the greater point of going through a crisis. I'm beginning to conclude that our "great crisis=great lessons" formula is wrong. I'm concluding that who I am becoming is more significant than what I am learning.

Now, certainly, what I learn greatly impacts who I become. But when the crisis is past, the greatest issue is character development. Grab whatever lessons you can. Sharpen your theology along the way. These are important and formative. But they are the smaller pieces that make up the larger subject: you.

You cannot go through a life-crisis and come out the other side unchanged. The fire will consume or refine—devour or strengthen—but it must leave its mark upon you. Adversity doesn't have to harm us, but it must alter us. And you, of course, are the only one who gets to choose whether this change will be for the better or the worse.

A Personal Note
Over the months I've faced some discouragement because my recovery is so slow and unpredictable. I'll go for a week of feeling like my pain is going away and becoming a thing of the past only to have it flair up again and become a continual reality. I'll have a day when I can swallow most anything only to be followed by a day when swallowing feels like so much work it’s hardly worth the effort. I could go on with examples, but the result is that I have to enter a new round of resolve to face and fight this malady. I cannot hide. I will not quit. The journey continues another day.

I didn't choose my crisis. Perhaps it chose me or I was chosen for it, but I would have never signed up for the experience. I do, however, choose every day how I will respond to it…multiple times a day in fact.

Here are my options: I can choose the ever-nagging voice of self-pity, "Someone take mercy on me. Can't you see I'm in pain?" Discouragement and depression like to add their voices, "You are just a shell of who you used to be. Quit trying so hard to get better or be a better person. It's not worth it." And then, of course, anger tries to join the choir, "You should be mad at somebody about this. Blame someone: your doctors, God, your board, yourself." Meanwhile, the voice of the Spirit is singing His own song, "My grace is sufficient for you. My presence will never leave you. My purposes will be displayed in you. My character can be formed in you. My glory will be seen by you. I am good. Look for signs of my goodness around you."

Every day--multiple times a day--I choose which voice will sing the loudest in my heart. Every time I make such a decision, I am being formed into the image of that voice. The same is true for you.

Back to Math Class
I tend to resist formulas, but if I had to create one to replace the previous one mentioned, it would look something like this: "Crisis + Response = Life Change." Who I am becoming is a direct product of how I respond to the crisis before me. The "crisis" can be as minute as being disconnected from a phone call or being overcharged two dollars at the store. Or, it may be as massive as hearing a doctor say that your child only has months to live. You rarely get to choose your crises. They have a way of just showing up.

What we do choose is how we will respond. I'm certainly not the first to write on the subject and I hope I'm not the last. Hasn't someone already said, "Life is 10% what happens to you, and 90% how you respond to it?"

I'm seeking to choose responses that allow my crisis to become a positive factor in making me a better person. I'm challenging you to do so as well.

So let me repeat myself as I close today. We cannot go through a life-crisis and come out the other side unchanged. The fire will consume or refine—devour or strengthen—but it will leave its mark upon us. Adversity doesn't have to harm us, but it must alter us. And we alone choose whether this change will be for the better or the worse.

Together with you in this journey,
John

PS Thanks for rejoicing with me last week in your blog responses to my news of the good medical report. You have truly been friends who have “mourned with those who mourn and rejoiced with those who rejoice.”

Whew!!

nospam@example.com (John Stumbo) — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 15:42:00 -0700

Did you hear the deep sigh that came from my corner of the globe?

This morning I received a call from my doctor informing me that the PET scan results indicated that the mass on my lungs is most likely scar tissue. It does not appear to be an active tumor. I am to have another scan in a few months to make sure that the mass has not grown but it appears that the issue is a non-issue. Thanks for praying with me and for your encouragement during this most recent round of medical involvement.

My Bible reading plan yesterday took me to 1 Chronicles 19. David’s troops are once again involved in a battle with various opposing forces. On this particular day it feels like the enemies are coming from every direction. The commander of Israel’s army has a simple battle strategy and then encourages those under him to “Be strong and let us fight bravely for our people and the cities of our God. The Lord will do what is good in His sight.”

Be strong. Fight bravely. The Lord will do what seems good to Him. These words came to me yesterday as an encouragement and a challenge. While I felt like I was being surrounded by yet more enemies, the Lord’s instruction was to be strong, fight bravely and live with a deep confidence that He would accomplish His good purposes. I’m grateful today that He saw fit that one of the enemies I don’t have to fight right now is cancer. Obviously this came as a great relief and gives me new focus to fight the enemies that I do have. I am encouraged as I battle this muscle disease and seek to get off this feeding tube. Other enemies of the soul always try to find their way to the front lines but the bottom line is the Lord’s good purposes are being accomplished as we take courage and fight bravely.

Thanks for standing with me. I trust that you sense that I am battling alongside you in whatever enemies you face today as well.

Together for His Kingdom,

John

P.S. Congrats to the Stumbo’s Prayer Warriors Hood to Coast team (photos below) as they successfully completed their 197-mile trek in less than 30 hours. You can log onto dudsterspot.blogspot.com if you’d like to read our own Dudster’s commentary on the event.

Strength Enough

nospam@example.com (John Stumbo) — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 01:49:00 -0700

Most of you will recognize the name of Charles Spurgeon, pastor of the Metropolitan Tabernacle in London throughout the final half of the nineteenth century. For the last two decades of his ministry, he struggled with health issues. His story has been impactful for me this past year. Let me share just one insight from his teaching today.

It seems that Spurgeon was in the habit of delivering an “Opening-of-the-Year Message.” Unknown to him, January 1, 1892, would be the last message of this type he would give. He opened his sermon in this way;

Passing at this hour over the threshold of the new year, we look forward, and what do we see? Could we procure a telescope which would enable us to see to the end of the year, should we be wise to use it?

Great question, Charles. If we had the power to see into the future, would we be wise to use that power?

Pastor Spurgeon answered his own question.

I think not. We know nothing of the events which lie before us of life or death to ourselves or to our friends, or of changes of position, or of sickness or health. What a mercy that these things are hidden from us!

He proceeded to give a few reasons why it would be unwise for us to foresee our blessings (they would lose their sweetness while we impatiently waited for them) or our troubles (we should worry ourselves about them long before they came, and in that fretfulness we should miss the joy of our present blessings.)

Spurgeon concluded the thought by saying, Great mercy has hung up a veil between us and the future; and there let it hang.

I like Charles’ advice. Let the veil do its holy work of helping us live today as unencumbered by the future as possible.

However, Charles didn’t live in the era of modern medicine with our arsenal of diagnostic devices, not the least of which are CT Scans. Because of issues often associated with my condition (Dermatomyositis), doctors both locally and from Mayo Clinic suggested that I have some of this kind of precautionary work done. Somewhat reluctantly, I obliged.

The result: It was discovered that I have a small growth in my right lung which wasn’t there 18 months ago. Based on various factors, including the size and shape of the growth, there is a 25–30% chance that it is cancerous … ah, there it is, that dreaded word I’ve avoided for the duration of my illness.

Now, trying to be a “glass half-full” kind of guy, I do the math and remind myself that there is 70–75% chance that it’s not cancer. Besides, my life isn’t in the hands of mathematicians nor medicine men, but in the Master’s. And, it always seems that His math doesn’t quite add up the same as ours.

Seeing with a CT Scan isn’t quite like Spurgeon’s mythical telescope, but it does allow us to see a little farther than I really wanted to see. I know that my future now holds at least one more test (next week) and possibly a whole new round of involvement with the medical community. I’m sure they are nice people. I just didn’t want to go to their offices. I’ll keep you posted when I learn more.

All this during my summer of “untangling.” While I’m making concerted efforts to simplify my life, it seems that it just got a little more complicated. More than once on the riverbank of my childhood, I actually made the tangle worse for a while. My young fingers and untrained eye added a few twists and loops to the mess. So it feels this summer. I’ve been on this bank before.

To be fair to Spurgeon, there was more to his message. As he looked to the year to come, he did believe that there were some things he could know. Most striking was his confident assurance, I perceive very clearly, by the eye of faith, strength for the journey provided …We shall have strength enough, but none to spare; and that strength will come when it is needed, and not before.”

Pastor Spurgeon didn’t know what the year before him held, but he knew that God would grant him the grace for whatever was to come. With that assurance, Spurgeon lived and—before the year was over¬—died well. Meanwhile, his example and testimony live on. Thank you, Charles. I want to live with the same confidence: whatever the future holds, we shall have strength for the journey—none to spare and none too soon—but enough. That resonates with me. It matches what I’ve experienced in my walk with God. I’m thinking it matches yours as well.

Blessings to you this week. Thank you for being part of this community.

On the bank, but not the brink,
John

PS This weekend, two vans full of crazed runners are again conquering the event known as “Hood to Coast” … a ridiculously long race (30 hours or so) but also a huge and happy event. Again this year they are running under the team name of “Stumbo’s Prayer Warriors” complete with specially designed “Run John Run” t-shirts. They are under the capable and commanding leadership of blog faithful, “Dudster.” Memories will be made. Sweat will be shared. I’m grateful for them. It will be one huge and final(?) step of my healing if I’m ever able to join them some year. They and you have prayed me this far. We’re not stopping now, right?! May Spurgeon’s words—we shall have strength enough—be true for the Stumbo Prayer Warriors this weekend. Enjoy!

I CELEBRATE A LIFE

nospam@example.com (John Stumbo) — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 19:42:51 -0700

I celebrate a life well lived,
A story well told,
A song well sung.

I celebrate a woman who
Knew how to be a friend and receive friendship,
Give and receive love.

I celebrate a woman who
Heard permission to be herself
And lived it out well.

I celebrate a woman who
Tasted grace and
Passed its inviting flavor along to those she met.

I celebrate a woman
Who searched and searched until she found the Father’s heart
In the midst of suffering.

I celebrate a woman
Who felt God tapping her on the shoulder to awaken her
To spend time with Him in the morning.

I celebrate a woman who mastered
And then rejected
The broadly accepted art of “image management.”

I celebrate a woman
Who carried well the banner of truth-telling
And modeled authenticity for the rest of us.

I celebrate a woman who knew
That the Lion of Judah was not a tame lion
And resisted attempts to make Him jump through our hoops.

I celebrate a woman who didn’t volunteer for her challenge—
Who never would have chosen to walk the path of cancer—
But faced it courageously.

I celebrate a woman who worshiped Jesus with all her heart
And now has the pleasure of doing so
In His presence.

I celebrate the life of Lorelei Friesen
Who was carried from this life to the next
On this day, August 20, 2010.

A note to those who aren’t from Salem Alliance: Ron and Lorelei led the Salem Alliance family in worship for over a decade. More recently, they served as C&MA missionaries to France. They are dearly loved by countless people here and worldwide.

Speaking of … God

nospam@example.com (John Stumbo) — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 09:52:31 -0700

Thanks for traveling with me these past few weeks. Jo and I are home now—6,500 miles later—and, happily report that we’re no longer pirating internet connections to post this blog. The trip was great. It was a joy to speak at two conferences for young leaders, preach at two Alliance churches, attend a two day conference in Des Moines, participate in two family events (a reunion and a wedding), write for two days on my doctoral project, spend two nights at a bed and breakfast with my wife (thanks to a gift card generously provided for us) and eat too much ice cream in the process!

Upon getting home I got caught up on reading your comments. Ya’ll are a fun and engaging community. I’m grateful for the interaction. I also get a card or email every few days or so from people who read this blog but don’t do the “post a comment for the world to read” kind of thing. That’s okay, too. I’m simply encouraged that people continue to find my meanderings helpful and/or care enough to follow my on-going story. The body of Christ is amazing. You have been a massive and steady encouragement to Joanna and me. I hope in some tiny way we can bless you back for all the blessing you’ve poured on us during this long season of recovery.

Speaking of recovery, I’m encouraged by my increasing stamina and am happy to announce that I’ve now gained 20 pounds. Since beginning to eat on April 27, I’m averaging about 5 pounds a month. I’ll have to slow this pace down at some point, but for now it is great. The increased weight has certainly brought with it some increased strength. My swallow function is still weak and inefficient, but with a little perseverance, Joanna’s mashed potatoes and gravy are going down just fine. Throw in a piece of Willamette Valley Fruit Company pie—ala mode, of course— and life is good.

Speaking of the Willamette Valley Fruit Company, I hope that by now the residents of Salem have discovered the farm store that has been built in the last couple years. It’s a delightful place where you can watch the pies being made while you sample a piece for yourself (or my personal recommendation: the strawberry shortcake.) Recently I was talking with Jeff, one of the men who runs the farm and pie business. This year he’s doing a pumpkin patch and a corn maze. It will be a great place to take the family this fall.

I’m not sure how the idea came up, but Jeff volunteered one of his pumpkin plants for an experiment. I gave him a case of my feeding tube formula and he’s feeding one of the pumpkin plants with it. It’s called “Stumbo the Giant Pumpkin: Formula Fed.” Word on the street is that my pumpkin is off to a serious start. I couldn’t gain a pound on the stuff, but the pumpkin seems to love it. I’ll communicate more on this important item in a later blog … maybe even a photo or two.

Speaking of communication, have you noticed that if you are the only one speaking you can use the “speaking of” connector to segue into any subject you choose? It’s a nifty way to control a conversation.

Enough of that.

Let me get to the item I really wanted to share with you today. I’ve been thinking about and speaking about the sovereignty of God lately. The subject is vast—incomprehensible, really. But in my simple minded way, I’ve summarized my thoughts back to Him in the poetic piece I share with you now.

YOU:
A JOYFUL DECLARATION OF THE SOVEREIGNTY OF GOD

You have a plan for this world.
It is good.
It includes my life.

You have a plan for this world.
It is comprehensive.
It includes all of us.

You have a plan for this world.
It is remarkable.
It will astound us.

You have a plan for this world.
It is mysterious
It is often hidden from us.

You have a plan.
I am part of it.
I submit to you today.

You have a plan.
I may not see my part in it.
I yield to you today.

You have a plan.
My pain has a purpose.
I trust you today.

You have a plan.
It includes my future.
I wait for you today.

Your plan
stretches into eternity.
We celebrate what awaits.

Your plan
spans all of history.
We accept what has taken place.

Your plan
shatters all demonic schemes.
We declare your victory.

Your plan
secures us in your love.
We rest in you today.

You.
You are good.
We will be blessed forever.

You.
You are limitless.
We will explore you forever.

You.
You are bliss.
We will enjoy you forever.

You.
You are sovereign.
We will be safe forever.

Everything that has ever existed and
everything that ever will exist
has always been,
and always will be about
You.

On Being Remembered … and Forgotten

nospam@example.com (John Stumbo) — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 14:04:22 -0700

It was January 2009. I was 70 days into my hospital stay. My life had been spared and recovery had begun but I was apprehensive. My number one fear was that I might have lost mental capacity and memory. As the days progressed, I was assured that I was thinking clearly and had not lost aptitude. However, my memory still suffered. By 5:00 in the afternoon I couldn’t tell you what I had done that morning. This was cause for concern.

Sleeping in my hospital bed at Salem Rehab one night, I had a dream … a memory actually. I remembered staying at Chet and Pauline’s Iowa farmhouse when I was a very small boy. Throughout my life I had heard stories of this experience and seen pictures, but on this night I remembered new details with beautiful clarity and rich emotion. I woke up with the “dream” very present on my mind and heart. I felt like the Lord was encouraging me that if I could still remember something from that long ago, the short term memory would eventually be okay as well.

I was curious, though. Why would I have stayed at Chet and Pauline’s in the first place? What events would have surrounded such a stay? I asked family members who were visiting me, but no one could give me the explanation.

Then the daily mail arrived. In it was a letter from none other than the now 90-year-old Pauline. We hadn’t communicated in a decade, but “it just so happened” that on this day a letter from her came. In the letter she expressed her concern for my health, reassured me of her ongoing prayers and then, to my utter amazement, told me the answer to my morning’s question. In detail she explained the circumstances surrounding the reason why I had stayed for a week at their home. It was a simple letter with a simple story but was profoundly moving for me.

In God’s kindness, He had directed an elderly woman to write me a letter a few days before I dreamed of her. He orchestrated the timing of her letter, the US Postal Service and my dream so that the very morning that I awoke with the question, the answer was delivered to my bedside.

God often reveals His sovereignty through timing. Isn’t it cool? In His kindness, sometimes He lets us know of His involvement by an intricately orchestrated stream of events. In this instance He let me know that He remembered me by reassuring me that my memory would be fine.

This week I had the privilege of sitting by Pauline’s bedside and thanking her. The first 90 years of her life were marked by health, but year 91 hasn’t been so kind. Bedridden and broken in body, her spirit is still very alive and her mind sharp. I thanked her, attempted to encourage her but in the end was the one most blessed.

It is an honor to be in the presence of someone who has walked with God for a lifetime. It is an honor to be remembered by someone I haven’t seen in 20 years.

It is also an honor to be surrounded by loving friends and family. Recent days have been rich as I have been blessed to reconnect with friends I haven’t seen in years and an aunt, uncle and cousins I haven’t seen in decades. “Amers” fattened me up with great cooking and Cory got me on a tandem bicycle. Dean got me onto a tennis court (not a pretty sight) and my cousins made sure I drove away with a Culvers’ shake (a much better sight). Lanny, Barb, Julie, Jason, Jodi, Dan, Lori, Joe, Laura and others drove a long way just to share a church service and a few moments together. How sweet to be remembered. A sister in the faith I had never met slipped a generous gift into my hand. How gracious the body of Christ.

After Iowa and Wisconsin, the next stop was another jaunt through northern Minnesota to my sister’s cabin. Here Joanna and I are sequestered without internet or cell phone service, but (thanks to Tim France at Salem Alliance) I have a new laptop. The goal of these days: Bring my doctoral writing project to completion. No distractions. No excuses. Progress is being made. I can start to see the genuine possibility that there is an end to this five year journey. YAY!

After a long day of writing, Jo and I jumped into our rental car and took a short drive. Destination: The Lost Forty. I hadn’t been there for twenty years, but I remembered a trail a few miles from the cabin that I wanted to rediscover. I missed a turn or two, but we soon found our way to the untouched forest. It was as beautiful as I remembered.

What I didn’t remember was the story behind the forest’s name. “The Lost Forty” is a forty acre piece of land that was never surveyed when the government was mapping out this region. Here’s the short story: In the 1880’s, Josiah A. King and his three person crew were living off of a dwindling food supply as they surveyed the region around Grand Rapids, MN. They weren’t quite done with their job, but winter was setting in. In his haste, Josiah marked a section of his map as a lake. In actuality it was a virgin forest. Lumber barons of the time were cutting down massive swaths of such forests. In fact today, only 2 percent of the old growth forests are left in MN. Since the “lost forty” land was marked as a lake, the saws of the barons were never sent to cut it down. As a result, 300-400 year old trees still stand. Josiah’s mistake became our blessing. Because it was forgotten, this forest with trees that are older than our nation survived.

Evidently there are times that being forgotten isn’t all bad.

Yet, after this week’s travels, I’ll say that I’m grateful to be remembered.

Through the prophet Isaiah God asked a vivid question to add emphasis to his point, Can a mother forget the baby at her breast? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands. (49:15-16)

I assure you today, by the authority of the Word of God, that you are not forgotten. Your Father’s love for you is as fresh, alive, powerful and rich as it has ever been. He will never love you less and could not love you more.

He knows. He remembers. He sees.

And, if it feels somehow like you are overlooked or forgotten in this season—the soul’s equivalent to the “Lost Forty” forest—even that experience will turn out for good. Roots are growing deeper, old growth is being preserved, dangers averted and His plan being carried forward.

His memory is good. Really good. Rest in that assurance today.

Thanking Him for you,
John

PS Ah, America! What a great country. Regular readers of this blog will be glad to know that even though I'm posting this from the front seat of my car again, this time I'm not hijacking the internet service of a local bank. The Community Library of Blackduck, MN (30 miles from my sister's cabin) is kind enough to offer free internet service that is strong enough to reach the street out in front ... so even though they are closed, I'm in business. Staying in communication with you is becoming a kind of "Where's Waldo" experience. I'm lovin' it.

August Update

nospam@example.com (John Stumbo) — Tue, 03 Aug 2010 06:39:32 -0700

Hey, Friends,

Sorry for another delay in communicating with you. In spite of all the conspiracy theories, I was not arrested by federal communication authorities, hired as IT Director of the Farmer’s State Bank of Darby, Montana nor abducted by aliens. However, the cheesecake theory had some truth to it.

The fact is that I’m enjoying a few days in northern Minnesota with my mother and some of my family. My computer did not share in the enjoyment, however, as its motherboard went the way of all technology.

Minnesota’s fame, besides Brett Favre of course, is its ten thousand lakes. The actual number is something over 11,000, but “10,000” looks niftier on a license plate. Besides, the good folk of Minnesota aren’t prone to brag … except when it comes to the size of the fish they catch. My mother’s county alone has 1,000 of the lakes. Beauty surrounds. Loons call. Never mind the fact that in six months it will be one hundred degrees colder. Life’s good today—much better than yesterday.

Towed Along

Pain is like a tow rope hauling us to places we wouldn’t choose to go on our own.

I woke up thinking of that phrase this morning. I think I know where it came from: The picture of countless boats hauling tubers, skiers and boarders met my one day encounter with food poisoning.

I’m still not sure what it was that I ate, but something got me good and laid me flat. For the afternoon and evening I whined, groaned, moaned and writhed. Crippled by cramps, my only hope was that this would pass with the hours. True to my wife’s prediction, about 10 hours later I got enough relief to sleep. Today, I am a new man again.

“Pain is like a tow rope hauling us to places we wouldn’t choose to go on our own.” The food poisoning ride took me to a new sense of appreciation for my new normal. I don’t like the fact that I’ve been disease-stricken these past 20 months, but I rejoice that I am increasingly able to go about with a productive life. The last nine months have been months of great progress. I’m getting on with life.

Where do I place my focus? A part of me wants to keep looking back to the man I was two years ago and grieve his loss—I miss the strong voiced, tennis playing, marathon running, high energy guy that I was. Another part of me looks back to the man I was one year ago—still using a wheelchair at times, barely able to walk unassisted, not swallowing, sequestered from much public interaction, sleeping 15 hours a day, feeling very weak and sick and having little hope that anything was going to improve anytime soon.

Having a day of food poisoning made me grateful for my new norm. No, I’m not the man I was two years ago; but I am now at the stage of health that is “livable.” I’m more grateful to be me today than I was 48 hours ago. This is where my pain towed me today … to a place of new appreciation. I pray that your pain will lead you somewhere good today as well.

Speaking of Progress

In the past month or so, I’ve had a couple of bumps of improved strength. Major milestones include opening a water bottle for the first time, carrying my own duffle bag, throwing a frisbee and consistently walking up a full stair at a time. Day-to-day functions are getting easier. Praise God!

Meanwhile, I know that many of you have prayed repeatedly for my ability to swallow. I’m like the blind man that Jesus healed who after the first touch could see, but not clearly. To him, people looked like walking trees. I’m thrilled for the first touch and believe the second one is coming.

I rejoice that I am now eating—albeit slowly—almost anything. I still haven’t tried steak, hot dogs and a few other items that I could live without anyway. Ice cream still goes down the easiest—but maybe that’s just my justification for resuming my consumption of my favorite food group. Ice cream is a food group, you know. Tonight I ate a large taco in an hour—without choking or coughing. Progress is definitely being made.

In fact, for the last month, I’ve been taking all of my nutrition by mouth. I’ve not used my feeding tube for food intake for weeks. I am still using the tube for hydration. It takes extra effort to drink water, so I rely on my tube for that; but I trust it will only be a few more months and we’ll celebrate Tube Freedom Day.

Remember Fabian?

Those who have followed this blog for some time will remember a little fable I wrote last year. At the time it was something just for fun. Well, Fabian is back.

Most of you know that I’ve re-entered the doctoral program through George Fox Evangelical Seminary. I completed the course work before getting sick. I also completed most of my mini-dissertation. What I lacked was a popular level presentation of the dissertation.

I am writing on the fact that the current leaders of the North American church (Baby Boomers) need to begin now to transition their ministries so the GenY leaders will want to engage in these ministries. A powerful generation of leaders is arising among us, but if we cling to our old values, the next generation is likely to ignore us altogether. So, “generational leadership succession of the North American church” is my topic.

One day I realized that Fabian and the king would make great characters for such a study. By throwing the leadership discussion into the format of a fable—complete with a knight, castle and princess—I believed that the subject might engage more people and more imagination. We’ll see if it works or not. I’ve got more writing to do in the next couple weeks. I’ll keep you posted on how it goes.

Well, that’s enough updating for one day. Assuming computers work, internet service is available and I stay away from all forms of salmonella, starting next week I’ll try to get back to my habit of posting on Thursdays.

Eating and preaching my way across the Midwest,
John

This week's post

nospam@example.com (John Stumbo) — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 00:00:00 -0700

Unfortunately John's computer crashed while he was on the road this week. He will put up his next post as soon as he is able to do so. Thanks for understanding!

Blog Administrator

Untangling Conclusion

nospam@example.com (John Stumbo) — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 13:00:31 -0700

I’ve been delayed in posting a blog this week because Joanna and I are having the pleasure and privilege of being with a small group of young ministry couples as they experience a renewal event in the Bitterroot Mountains of Montana. We’re on a 2,000 acre ranch that is quite rustic. Think port-a-potties and dust. Think great mountain views and grazing deer. Think quiet breezes blowing through pines. Think solitude. My cell phone barely works. Internet does not. I’ve not seen a TV in four days. We’re just a half-mile from the highway that connects us to the world and its frenetic pace, but I have no desire to get back on it today. I’m away from the buzz of life and I’m happy.

Most of us don’t get to live on 2,000 acre ranches. Most of us don’t even get to visit 2,000 acre ranches. Most of us live within a block of the buzz. Some of us feel like we live in the center of it.

Being on this ranch for a few days is serving me well in my quest to untangle my line. (Please read the previous 2 blogs if you are unaware of what I’m talking about.) I’ve withdrawn from the way most of the world operates. I’ve leaned in to creation.

This came at a good time. You see, from a human standpoint I’ve not made much progress on my untangling efforts so far this summer. In fact, in some ways (that I’ll share with you in a later post) life feels like it’s getting more complicated, rather than less. Occasionally on that river bank of my childhood, my inexperienced fingers only made the tangle worse for a while. Rather than eliminating the confusion, I added a loop or twist of my own.

Here’s the principle I’m thinking of today: Life complicates. Tangles happen. Without intentional effort and/or divine intervention, our lives become increasingly complex. Untangling is a proactive and, at times, laborious process. Simplification doesn’t happen naturally. Complexity does.

I believe there are countless reasons for this. Financial debt, material possessions, interpersonal relationships, physical health and many other factors guarantee that without intentional effort to the contrary, life becomes increasingly complicated.

We must be on guard—we must take the position of a sentry for our own spirit—for life can wrap us up in a knot of worry, stress and dis-ease. The good news announced to the Christ-follower is that where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. I don’t know all that Paul meant by those words, but I do know that many of us aren’t living with a sense of freedom.

I’m calling us today to make efforts for a greater experience of freedom. Untangling is doable. A lightness of spirit can be found. Solitude, simplicity and Sabbath-keeping (i.e. hearing God’s permission to spend a day renewing your soul rather than conquering your “to do” list) are powerful spiritual disciplines helping us enter in to this freedom. Forgiveness is a big one, too: Nothing tangles the line of the soul quite like the skill of hanging on to a grudge. Nothing frees it quite like the joy of letting go of the offense.

I doubt if you’ll be able to find your way to a ranch for a few days. Your back deck or the county park might do just as well. Wherever it is, pursue some soul-quieting places this summer. While you are there, listen to the Spirit and see if He whispers some ways to your spirit to get a loop or twist out of your line.

We’re losing daylight. Our time to “fish” is limited. I want to get in lots more casts before nightfall. I’ve got to get this line untangled. I hope you will, too.

Hmmn, maybe it’s time to ask Dad to help.

Traveling with you,
John

PS To post this blog I’ve driven into town and am sitting inside my car outside the bank. The locals tell me this is the best place to pick up internet service as the bank’s connection is unsecured. Evidently this is common knowledge. You gotta love Montana!

This week's post

nospam@example.com (John Stumbo) — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 14:03:56 -0700

John is speaking at a conference in Montana where there is no internet service available. He will put up his next post as soon as he is able to do so. Thanks for understanding!

Blog Administrator

Untangling: Part 2

nospam@example.com (John Stumbo) — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 01:13:00 -0700

If you read the July 8 post you know that Joanna and I are in “untangle” mode—something we’ve been working on for a month now. However, in recent days I’ve realized that my untangling metaphor has another layer to it. I’ll try to explain … but I find I need to use another picture to do so:

I purchased a new pair of glasses. They were extremely expensive. They didn’t just cost me an “arm and a leg.” They almost cost me my life.

They aren’t a pair of glasses I put on my nose and ears to focus my eyes. They are a pair I put on my heart and mind to focus my perspective. Just like Joanna reaches for her prescription glasses a dozen times a day to read a label or book, I’m reaching for these glasses throughout my day to read life.

My new glasses have an odd name: “Death Stare.” I acquired them a year and a half ago in the ICU ward at OHSU in Portland, but I’m just now figuring out how to use them.

Okay, let me stop writing in terms of metaphor and explain what I’m thinking: I’m becoming more proactive at looking at my life through the lens of my death bed experience. I’m becoming intentional about this.

For example, recently I was taking notes during a meeting. A few minutes into it, I wrote at the top of my paper, “I came back from my death bed to do this?” I surprised myself when I did it, because it was a good meeting and I was fully engaged in the conversation. However, it was a personal “reality check” moment.

I’ve complained enough in the past: you know that recovery hasn’t been an easy journey for me. Death would have been unspeakably easier. But, upon coming to accept that God has more for my life, I’ve tried to cooperate with Him in this challenging recovery process. And, I rejoice that I’m miles down the recovery path. I’m not the healthy man I was two years ago, but I’m certainly not as sick of a man as I was one year ago.

Progress is definitely being made. And, now that it is, I’m back doing more things: preaching, writing, working on the final project for the doctoral program, participating in meetings, coaching and mentoring, preparing for the launch of The Upper Room (the new Salem Alliance prayer center), etc. Yet, as I do all of this—and I’m absolutely thrilled that I can be doing these things—I’m beginning to ask this new question: Did I come back from my death bed for this? Or, to state it differently, Did God give me a second chance to live so that I would give what little time I have left to this?

This reflection has become a great tool for me to evaluate what I’m giving myself to. In the past, I often took on countless projects merely because “somebody had to do it.” There was a measure of good to this, but its inherent weakness was a lack of evaluation. I now have an evaluation tool—a pair of glasses to look through—to help decide if I’m the one to take on that project or not.

These questions—these glasses—are also becoming a helpful tool to check my emotional response. I’ve known through the years that I can become passionate about too many things. I’m embarrassed now, as I look back on life, at all the times I spoke so fervently in a meeting over an issue I now consider to be insignificant. I pounded tables, raised my voice, spiked my blood pressure, filled white boards and challenged the views of teammates with great intensity on far too many issues. I wasn’t selective with my passion. If I had an opinion, you were sure to know. I’m trying to change.

I’M NOT VERY GOOD AT THIS YET, but I’m excited about the potential that awaits me with these new glasses. When my emotions arise over a subject, I’m trying to ask myself, “Did I come back from my death bed to fight over this issue? Is this how I want to use my remaining breaths?”

Don’t be concerned, I haven’t lost any passion. In fact, it has probably increased. What I’m trying to change—where I’m seeking to mature—is to be more selective in these passions … to raise my voice on fewer issues.

And so, this too is an “untangling.” Just as I’m back on the river bank sorting out my fishing line in practical ways such as selling our home, I’m now attempting to unravel my spirit from so many issues as well.

Untangled line & death glasses. Add to that, my improved health and the pleasure of eating food. Hmmm, life might actually become enjoyable again.

Travel light. We’ve got more miles to go,

John

Untangling: Part One

nospam@example.com (John Stumbo) — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 01:24:00 -0700

Some of you already know this, but let me bring everyone up to date: Joanna and I feel like the summer of 2010 is a season for us to “untangle.”

The metaphor comes from my boyhood when I spent countless hours fishing—often on the banks of the Mississippi River. Every time I fished, it was inevitable that I would need to untangle my line. Innumerable are the ways a kid-fisherman can get his line tangled, and I found most of them. As a result, I would take a seat on the river bank to sort out the mess I had caused. My fishing was delayed for a few minutes, but once untangled, I was free to cast out again. No one can fish effectively with a tangled line.

As Joanna and I take a seat on the river bank together, we find that our lives are entangled in a half dozen ways. We’re proactively working and regularly praying that we could get our lives untangled from these things in the months to come so that we would be free to cast out again.

For example, I’ve wanted to complete a doctoral program for fifteen years. I’ve been enrolled in one for five. It’s time to finish. It has become a knot in my line and I need to sort it out. I have November 3 set aside on my calendar for my oral defense. The end is in sight! But, like a kid on the riverbank, it’s time to plop my back side down in a chair and do what needs to be done.

Another example: While our home served us well during the years I was healthy and the kids were home, it is now another tangle in our line. It’s a great home. We’ve loved it. Yet, this is a season to simplify our finances, yard maintenance, etc. (By the way, we’ve had people from the church take over our yard care since my illness. The body of Christ has been so kind to us. But how long does one impose on this kindness?) All this to say, our home is on the market. A realtor’s sign—looking so out of place—hangs by our driveway. I was surprised by the emotion I felt when I saw it … but it’s time.

Being released from the feeding tube would be another major “untangle” experience. God continues to strengthen my swallowing. I am clearly improving. Yet, I still need the tube. “Feeding Tube Freedom Day” will be exciting! I’ll keep you posted. Meanwhile, I munch and pray. (I have a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios beside me as I write this.)

So, now you know some of what Joanna and I have been working on and praying about in recent weeks. Selling a home kicks all manner of activity into action: cleaning closets, maintenance projects and garage sales (yes, it will take more than one.) Finishing a doctorate has a list of it’s own. But with each box sorted or final project page written, we’re making incremental progress toward our untangling goal.

More on this later. I think the Lord is taking this metaphor a step further in my life, but give me another week to process it.

Meanwhile, let me throw on the “pastor hat” and remind us of the well-known instructions found in Hebrews 12, Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. “Throw off”—unburden yourself—and run freely. Wise words.

Jesus himself had something to say about this as well, The seed that fell among thorns stands for those who hear, but as they go to on their way they are choked by life’s worries, riches and pleasures, and they do not mature.

Jesus’ words make me think of some of the vines that grow here in the fertile Pacific Northwest. To the naïve, they look like they are full of “life.” They are green, aggressive and abundant. Yet, in a sense, they carry “death.” Left to grow around your other plants, they will choke them out and take over. You don’t just prune such vines. If you care about your garden or landscape, you poison or uproot them.

So, pick your picture: untangle, unburden or uproot—fishing line, extra baggage or threatening vines. My hunch is, whatever one you choose, you can probably find some way to apply this to your life as well.

Talk to you again soon,

John

PS Got an untangling story of your own? Share it with us. Some of our blog readers benefit as much from the comments as they do from the blog itself.

On Snipers and Souls and Hard Days

nospam@example.com (John Stumbo) — Fri, 02 Jul 2010 11:37:00 -0700

I know I caused some concern by my last blog. Thanks for your love and prayers in response. I hesitated to post it because I didn't want to worry you. Yet, at the same time, I have this high level of commitment to do what I promised 18 months ago…to give you "an honest look into a mysterious journey." Hence, a post like yesterdays. I don't think you'd want it any other way. I know I wouldn't. Pretending takes too much energy.

Today I've been thinking about Elijah. He was the character in my devotional reading (I Kings). I'm intrigued by the way he handles solitude, deprivation, death, the king and eventually the huge showdown on Mount Carmel. Before the day is over, fire has fallen from heaven, 850 false prophets are humiliated and slain, the people of God have returned to Him in repentance and a three year drought has come to an end. Not a bad day's work for a prophet. He even got in a good run to finish the day off right. My kind of man.

Then came a one sentence threat from the Queen who hadn't even come to his big faceoff with the false prophets. She says that before the sun sets again, she's going to make sure that he is like them … as in "dead." The man who took on the heavy artillery of hundreds of prophets in the presence of thousands of people gets picked off by a lone sniper in the palace. The Queen doesn't actually kill him, of course. But she does effectively kill his spirit. He flees faster than you can say "scared rabbit." And, he's suddenly so depressed he wants God to take his life…now. His attitude is, "I'd rather die than face another day." Elijah the stouthearted becomes Elijah the no-hearted.

I didn't slip that low yesterday, don't worry. I wasn't asking God to take me home…besides, I already know His answer to that prayer: "No. I've got a job for you to do here. You tried that dying thing already, now get on with life!" (Those weren't God's exact words, mind you, but I think I got the gist of what He has been saying on that matter.)

I can relate to the “getting picked off by the sniper” routine, though. I'm amazed at how many hard days and how much bad news and how many life changing factors I can face with relative strength, only to have one phone call or one difficult conversation completely flatten me. I feel like I can successfully navigate a field of land mines, defend against the artillery and dodge the air strike only to have some pistol in a guy’s pocket take me out.

What Elijah is about to learn is that the Queen doesn’t have final say. She can threaten and wield great intimidation with her threats, but his life is in the hands of Another…and so is yours and mine.

It would take quite a bit to get Elijah back to a good place—a few really good meals, a couple long naps, some solitude, a revelation of God's presence, some new assignments and a ministry partner (Elisha). I don't think it will take this much for me, at least not this time around…although the "really good meals" thing does sound very inviting! I don't believe we're supposed to take Elijah's story and make a formula out of it, Six Steps to Soul Recovery. The example is a good one and the principles are significant, but the fact is that God works uniquely in each of us. And, a good work He does!

He's not One to leave His troops wounded on the side of the road. In my latest battle I haven't seen Him yet, but I know He's near.

So, take heart with me tonight, wounded soldier. Your injury isn't fatal. Your enemy is temporary. Your Redeemer and Healer is near. We may have caught the sniper’s bullet, but the Lord will catch us. Of that I am certain.

Fighting along side of you,
John

It's Wednesday

nospam@example.com (John Stumbo) — Thu, 01 Jul 2010 02:23:00 -0700

It's Wednesday night.

It's my night to write to you…this blog community I have come to appreciate so deeply.

I tried. I really did.

I started a follow-up to last week's theme of shame. It actually has some potential, but it refuses to be written tonight.

I started a poem on the death of dreams. It doesn't have much potential, especially tonight.

I considered providing a summary of my day--the dying man, the raging envy, the wounded heart, the shocking news, the latest test--but really can't. Each story is too raw, too fresh or too confidential to splatter over the web.

As a pastor, I have a front row seat to the pain-filled drama of this world. As a husband and dad, I have a backstage pass or even a director's chair. And, as a man myself, I have an active role in this same drama--I find that I am one of the characters. Some days, like this one, I follow the script in disbelief. It doesn't read like I'd expect.

To change the metaphor…

Like a sneaker wave at the coast, today tried to catch me unguarded and sweep me out to sea. I'm grateful for the solid footing established through the faith that has been rebuilt this past year. The wave didn't carry me away, but my sneakers are awfully soggy and I'm chilled by the splash.
Give me a little time. I'll find a towel and regroup. I'll clean the sand out of my socks and head out again.

But for the moment, I have little to say. I process better in silence…at least the deepest things of the soul. Something "trivial" like a colonoscopy I can process in public (remember that blog?), but when the scope takes a tour of my innermost being, I must pause, wait…reflect.

When the ancient song writer, Asaph, had a day (or season) like this, he waited to express himself until he had "entered the sanctuary of God." There he gained a perspective on the trials of his life and questions of his soul. He knew that if he had spoken too early, it would have caused harm. In his words, "If I had said, 'I will speak thus,' I would have betrayed your children." (See Psalm 73)

So, with my friend from ancient times, I will wait to speak. I will seek His sanctuary. To try to understand is "oppressive" (73:16), but in time the Spirit will bring His counsel to my soul.
Meanwhile, I claim his declaration as my own, "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever…as for me, it is good to be near God. I have made the Sovereign Lord my refuge, I will tell of all your deeds." (73:26, 28)

Watch out for those waves.
Dry out those socks.
We've got more miles to travel.

Your companion in the journey,
John

The Woman in the Hall

nospam@example.com (John Stumbo) — Thu, 24 Jun 2010 02:29:00 -0700

Recently I shared that with my increasing energy, I've opened up myself and my calendar to speaking opportunities as they might arise. The response has been very encouraging. I share the following schedule so that a) you can see what I'm up to, b) you can pray with me for these events, and c) you can join us if you live in the areas mentioned. Here's what the next 90 days look like:

July 4--Dallas Alliance, Dallas, OR
July 21-26--Connor, MT (Pastors Conference--not open to public)
August 1--Perham Community Alliance Church, Perham, MN
August 8--Community Heights Alliance Church, Newton, Iowa
August 25--Corban College (off campus leadership event)
August 29--East Hills Alliance Church, Kelso, WA
September 11/12--Broadway Commons Grand Opening, Salem, OR
September 13--(Tentative) Opening Day for The Upper Room (our new prayer center in Broadway Commons)
September 18/19--Smokey Point Community Church, Arlington, WA

Interspersed throughout these weeks, I'll also have the privilege of preaching a few times at Salem Alliance.

Meanwhile, I continue my role at Salem Alliance and am making progress on completing the writing necessary to finish the Doctor of Ministry degree I began a few years before becoming ill. And, I think I'm walking about 15 miles a week. I praise God for the energy he is giving me…a direct answer to your prayers! A year ago today I was in a completely different place, still relying on the wheelchair and only able to write, read or think an hour or two a day. I was persevering but discouraged. I was sleeping upwards of 15 hours a day. I wasn't seeing much sign of improvement. But you kept praying, and I'm praising God for where I am today. It makes me hopeful for what June 2011 will hold!

Switching gears: I wrote this for our church Perspectives Column but I want to share it with you today. It gives a window into my recent experience at Mayo and is a prelude to the message I'm preparing for Salem Alliance.

The Woman in the Hall

She had her back turned to me as I took my seat. I knew exactly what she was doing, but she was hiding it. I could sense what she was feeling: awkwardness, embarrassment…even shame.

I was at the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale, AZ. I had been escorted into a hallway with a couple chairs plopped in front of a TV stuck on a home improvement channel. The Mayo has at least six beautiful waiting areas, but this wasn't one of them. It was a drab hall with only a few chairs indicating that not many people had the need to find their way to this part of the building.

The embarrassed woman and I were the only two seated as we waited to be given the barium swallow test where a technician and speech/swallow therapist monitor attempts to swallow under video x-ray.

I greeted her as I sat down, but she kept her back turned to me as she said, "I'm not trying to be rude."

"I understand," I said. "I have one, too."

"You do?!" She said with shocked surprise, turning toward me and revealing the feeding tube she was pouring formula into.

I don't think she had ever met anyone who shared her experience of having difficulty with swallowing that required the insertion of a feeding tube into her stomach. It's something we tend to hide and for her it brought with it some shame.

I wasn't hungry, but I reached into my backpack, pulled out a can of formula and a syringe and said, "Let's have lunch together!"

She relaxed and smiled. The embarrassment and shame gone. Her story spilled out faster than her formula. I had made a friend.

Hiding under shirts or behind doors or within hearts is a world of shame…shame that in turn causes us to hide. Like the leaf-wearing couple hiding from God in the garden, we still cover and cower today. Like the noontime well-user in Samaria, we let our shame isolate us. It's unnecessary. Jesus knows our hiding places. He meets us there.

He's the God who understands pain and rejection, suffering and shame, scars and crosses. You're not going to surprise Him or tell Him anything He hasn't heard before. He's either already experienced it Himself or shed His blood for it.

The fog of shame disappears in the sun of acceptance. Come out of hiding. Love is waiting.

In His Grip,
John