|
Toward the end of his life, Bruce had an advanced case of Parkinson's. One of the symptoms is particularly disconcerting. Sometimes when Bruce sees a line on the floor (perhaps because his eyes are cast down, watching his feet, fearing a loss of balance?), he stops, immobilized, because he "sees" that line as a wall. He literally, does not (or cannot) move.
A friend tells the story of a ride in an elevator with Bruce and Bruce's wife. The doors open. My friend and the wife exit the elevator. Bruce walks (with his walker) toward the open doors, but sees only the line, or space, that separates the elevator from the building floor. He stops. He sees only "a wall"--an impediment.
His wife speaks, "Bruce. Look at me. Bruce. Look up at me. Look at my eyes. Now take one step."
Bruce looks up, trusts who he sees, and steps slowly out of the elevator.
I cannot imagine Parkinson's, or the courage it takes to face and to battle such a debilitating and often humiliating disease. But all of us know what it is like to feel stuck, or stymied, or (for reasons we don't even understand) stopped. There are times when we are just plain afraid to take another step. Our "limitation" or fear is greater than our ability to move forward. Even with the best of intentions or faith, we see only a wall.
When this happens to me, as it did this week, I am reluctant to tell anyone. Because, after all, "Big boys don't show any weakness." I've got a dozens reasons why I give into my limitations, and none of them have to do with me. Like the old parable, "The girl who can't dance says the band can't play."
"The older I get, the clearer it becomes to me that no one is cheated in this world, unless its by himself, but some of us are so wounded that we must return to the scene of the crime, must play with the fire that burned us, must live the scene out as many times as necessary until it comes out differently. We are not prisoners, no traps or snares are set about us, but many of us imprison ourselves or at least are helplessly stalled."
Merle Shain
I do know that if I run from my brokenness, it only exacerbates the problem. Like it or not, we all carry with us faultlines, and brokenness, and vulnerability.
In my early days, I assumed that "salvation" fixed all of that. You know, eliminated the broken stuff (like seeing walls when there were only lines). I figured that's what the Bible meant by being a new creation. But I believe differently now. Salvation is about wholeness, at-one-ness with our Creator, which ironically is about living with our brokenness, instead of running from it. It is about literally, being at home with the self, this self, this extraordinarily loved and often messy self.
My Sabbath is a reminder to hear the voice of Grace, "Look at me. Terry. Now take one step."
This same voice invited Peter (full of fear) out of the boat, onto a stormy sea, "Be not afraid. Look at me. Now take one step." Jesus didn't ask Peter to wait until he was "unafraid," or had it all figured out. He invited him to risk, and embrace this life, even with the imperfections and limitations, even knowing sooner or later, he'd sink.
Did you know that Franz Schubert wrote some of his best music (including Piano Sonata D. 959, released posthumously), music that never earned him a cent, that he never saw published or publicly recognized, when his symptoms of syphilis had advanced? Yet in the gloom, music rang out, what music from the depths, what sublime creativity, what ecstatic moments, usually as he entertained himself or dazzled a handful of guest and friends at private musical soirées. (From Andy Merrifield)
This goes beyond just the power of positive thinking. In the movie Kingdom of Heaven, about the battle for Jerusalem in the Middle Ages, Balian of Ibelin began knighting ordinary men, making them to understand that inside of them was a knight, something far greater than the limitations of their birth or fears or status.
The Bishop, Patriarch of Jerusalem [almost crying]: "Who do you think you are? Will you alter the world? Does making a man a knight make him a better fighter?"
Balian of Ibelin: "Yes"
"Look up at me," Balian of Ibelin was saying to each man. "See in my eyes something more and far greater than you see and know in your limitations."
The film "Invictus" (Latin for unconquerable) tells the story of South African President Nelson Mandela's first months in office--after 27 years spent in Robben Island prison. After years of apartheid, Mandela hoped for a "Rainbow nation," where white and black could live in peace, respecting each other. The film follows Mandela's relationship with Francois Pienaar, the captain of the national rugby team, hoping that a Springboks victory in the 1995 World Cup--hosted in South Africa--would unite and inspire the nation.
Mandela: What is your philosophy on leadership? How do you inspire your team to do their best?
François: By example... I've always thought to lead by example, Sir.
Mandela: Well that's right. That is exactly right. But how to get them to be better than they think they can be? That is very difficult. I find. Inspiration perhaps... How do we inspire ourselves to greatness, when nothing else will do? How do we inspire everyone around us. I sometimes think it is by using the work of others. On Robben island, when things got very bad... I found inspiration in a poem.
François: A poem...
Mandela: A Victorian poem. Just words... But they helped me to stand when all I wanted to do was to lie down... It allowed me to expect more of myself.
The poem--Invictus--invited Mandela to take a step, even in brokenness and the weight of despair.
Here's the deal: We choose to eliminate the question, "What did you accomplish today?" It makes my head spin, as I'm never sure if I get the answer right. Instead, I hope that somewhere we hear the voice, "Look at me. You are held and you are loved."
And I hope that, like Bruce, it will be enough to say, "Today, I took one step."
(1) The poem Invictus, referred to in the Mandela conversation is printed below.
Stay connected:
terryhershey.com
terry's schedule
|
