health

Chris Johnson and Mortality

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For those of us long-suffering Tennessee Titans fans, Chris Johnson was one of the few bright spots in a history filled with a lot of bad teams who were often painful to watch. He was an electric presence on the football field and still holds the NFL record for yards from scrimmage in a single season, set way back in 2009.

It broke my heart when I discovered that he’s currently battling ALS, a nervous system disease that shuts down the body and leaves the person completely incapacitated. I watched the Good Morning America interview with him and Michael Strahan where he couldn’t speak and and to communicate through a computer controlled through eye movements. In a year, he went from relatively healthy to not able to pick up a cup of water. He’s 39 years old.

But I often forget that no one is promised tomorrow. No one is guaranteed 70-80 years of life. I’ve known way too many who didn’t make it to old age, so I don’t ever want to take for granted that I made it to 54. In fact, I’m thankful for every single day that God gives me.

I don’t know where Chris Johnson stands with Christ. I don’t know if he’s a believer, though I’m praying that he is. I do know that hs time left on this earth is limited, but every single person ever born under the sun can say the same. We all have a limited timespan. In the perspective of eternity, our lives, even those that pass 100, are like the dash between the birth year and death year — very short.

But for those who belong to Jesus, who said yes to Jesus to forgive their sins and be their Lord and Savior, death is just a doorway to everlasting life and forever in a place called heaven where God Himself dwells and where there is no more COVID or cancer or AIDS or ALS.

I’m praying for a miracle for Chris. I’m sure many others are as well. It would be an amazing testimony if God healed him of his ALS. But I also know God is not beholden to heal Chris or anyone else. We live in a beautiful but broken world that feels the effects of sin every single day. People get sick and die. People get hurt and die. That’s the reality of life on this side of eternity.

But I’m thankful that this is not all there is. Jesus told us He’s been preparing a place for us since He ascended into heaven nearly 2,000 years ago. I can’t want to see it. I can’t wait to see all those I loved who are there now. Most of all, I can’t wait to see Jesus. More than any pearly gates or golden streets, He’s the one who makes heaven heaven. I hope and pray that everyone reading these words has an assurance of salvation and a future eternity in heaven. If not, it’s not too late while you’re still breathing to choose Christ.

This Hits Different These Days

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I was listening to my Daily Devo through the Worship Initiative, and they brought out a genuine, old-school hymn. written in 1752 and translated in 1855. I’m sure I sang it growing up, but these lyrics really hit me different today. So many people I know either are dealing with health issues or have passed away. This hymn speaks volumes to those who are walking down that road for themselves or loved ones. Plus, the words are beautiful and fitting for life in general:

“Verse 1
Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Verse 2 Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Verse 3 Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
And all is darkened in the vale of tears,
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still, my soul: thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.

Verse 4 Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past
All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last” (Words: Katharina von Schlegel, 1697 / Translator: Jane Borthwick (1855) / Music: “Finlanda” by Jean Sibelius 1899)

Blessings > Difficult Times

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Perspective is everything. I remember reading somewhere that some people out there would just about kill to have one of your bad days. They’d love to have your bad job or your small house or your simple blessings.

It’s easy to forget that a vast portion of the world’s population doesn’t have access to clean water. Many people have food insecurities. If you have a roof over your head and more than one change of clothes, you are considered wealthy compared to many around the globe.

My old boss used to say that any day without a toe tag is a good day. I agree to a point. To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord for those who are in Christ Jesus. That’s not a bad day. The Apostle Paul said it’s good for Him to go away and be in heaven, but it’s also good to stay for the sake of those who need mentoring and discipling.

But I get the gist. To be alive is a gift. We do God a disservice when we take our daily breath for granted or don’t give thanks for waking up every day. We forget that to be still living means that we still have a purpose and our lives still have a meaning.

To be alive means that we’re still called to be disciples who make disciples. We’re still students in the school of Jesus. We still have much to learn and much pruning and chiseling before we look like Jesus.

Times are hard, but don’t let them make you forget your blessings. You can still count them one by one. You can still give thanks for each of them by name.

Randomness at 9:30 pm on a Wednesday

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I think more and more about heaven lately. Not because I necessarily want my life here to end any time soon. I just think my ideas of heaven seem more and more inviting the more I understand better what’s waiting for me there. Tonight in my Bible study, we talked about how we will instantly recognize those we have loved and lost just as Peter, James, and John recognized Moses and Elijah on the Mount of Transfiguration.

I sometimes wonder what age we’ll be. I’ve always heard that we’ll all be 33 because that’s when most people are in their prime plus that’s when Jesus made His ultimate sacrifice for us. I’ve also read that we’ll somehow both be young and old at the same time, maybe with youthful faces but with eyes that highlight years of wisdom.

I only know that as life here gets more chaotic by the minute, heaven sounds more glorious. Also, I could do without allergies and sinus issues due to the up and down weather we’ve been having lately. It’s spring one day, then back to winter, then back to spring, then back to winter, etc.

I know for absolute certain that there will be zero anxiety and stress in heaven. There will be nothing that will make us anxious or cause us to worry. After all, the Prince of Peace will be in our midst, never to leave us or forsake us. Plus, no more taxes or bills to pay or 45 minute commutes to work.

I don’t know if there will be food, but I imagine it will be all of the flavor with none of the fat and cholesterol. Or maybe fat and cholesterol will suddenly be good for you and not turn to fat or make you fat. Whatever’s there, it will be better than anything I can currently imagine down here.

Anointed with Oil

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Have you ever wondered why Psalm 23 talks about anointing the head with oil? I guess I always assumed it had something to do with David being anointed king or maybe it was a symbolic gesture. Here’s something I found that explains it quite well. It’s also a good word for those of us who have intrusive thoughts that won’t go away:

“I always wondered what this part of Psalm 23 meant. I thought ‘He anoints my head with oil’ was figurative language to refer to God keeping the psalmist healthy. I never knew this parallel.

Sheep can get their heads caught in brambles and die trying to untangle themselves. There are horrible little flies that like to torment sheep by laying eggs in their nostrils that turn into maggots and drive the sheep to hit their heads on a rock, sometimes to death. His ears and eyes are also susceptible to tormenting insects.

The shepherd then anoints his entire head with oil. Then there is peace. That oil forms a protective barrier against the evil that tries to destroy the sheep.

Do you have moments of mental torment?

Do worrying thoughts invade your mind again and again?

Are you banging your head against the wall trying to stop them?

Have you ever asked God to anoint your head with oil?

It has an infinite supply! His oil protects and makes it possible for you to fix your heart, mind and eyes on Him today and always!

There is peace in the valley! May our good Father anoint your head with oil today so that your cup overflows with blessings! God is good and faithful!!” (Francisco J. Toledo).

Thursday Funnies (and Other Randomness)

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Yesterday was a hot one. Today was also a hot one. Tomorrow will most likely be a hot one. Are you sensing a trend yet?

It’s called summer. It’s like stepping out the front door into an oven. Except in my case living in Tennessee, it’s like an exceptionally moist oven. That’s because it’s very humid.

If it were 100 degrees with no humidity, I could adjust. I could learn to live with heat. But humidity is just not fair. It’s especially unfair to people (like me) with curly hair who just want to look normal and not like an alpaca who stuck its finger in an electrical socket.

But there is still a lot of summer to go. Officially, we have until September 21, but as everyone in Tennessee knows, hot weather is here until at least October. Maybe longer.

So my advice is to drink lots of water, wear sunscreen, and stay inside from 2 pm until November 2 (or maybe longer depending on the outcome of the election).

I see people in the heat wearing hoodies and jackets and long sleeves. I’m not judging, but why? It’s already heat stroke weather. There’s a heat advisory. If it’s me, I’m not adding to the risk. I mean you can wear all the layers and polyester you want. It’s a free country, but just know I will be sweating all the more when I see you bundled up in 95 degree heat.

But fall is coming. My favorite season because it’s not too hot, not too cold. Plus, you can legitimately wear hoodies and flannel and not die.

By the way, I get equally annoyed when I see people in t-shirts and gym shorts in the middle of winter. That’s just as dumb in my humble opinion.

But because we all made it through another week of living in a sauna, I brought you a joke to enjoy. Hope you like it.

Ready for Spooky Season

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The way I look at it, Tennessee has four seasons. I’m not talking about winter, spring, summer, and fall. I’ve come up with my own names for these seasons to help me cope with the one I’m currently stuck in.

Winter is snowy season.

Spring is sneezy season.

Summer is sweaty season.

Fall is spooky season.

No, those aren’t four of the seven dwarves who hung out with Snow White. Those are my experience of each of the seasons.

I guess you’ve figured out which is my favorite.

Winter is alright for a couple of weeks and is pretty when there’s snow. Plus, it technically has Christmas, although winter doesn’t normally hit Tennessee until mid-January.

Spring is when my sinuses explode and my allergies go haywire. It does have the benefit of seeing everything bloom and blossom and turn green, but also, all the bugs wake up and start terrorizing humanity.

Summer is also nice for a few weeks until the heat and humidity kick in. If it were just hot, I could handle it. It’s the humidity that makes my hair explode and also makes me feel like I’m constantly walking around in a sauna.

Fall is the best. All the good holidays are there. All the bugs have gone back to hell where they belong. All the leaves turn all the colors, and I can finally breathe normally again. Plus, I get to wear flannel.

So, while I’m doing my best to enjoy sweaty season, I’m letting you know that I’ll be ready for spooky season when it gets here.

PS I didn’t invent the term spooky season. I can’t claim it as my own, even though I really want to.

Caring for the Elderly

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“To care for the elderly means then that we allow the elderly to make us poor by inviting us to give up the illusion that we created our own life and that nothing or nobody can take it away from us. This poverty, which is an inner detachment, can make us free to receive the old stranger into our lives and make that person into a most intimate friend.

When care has made us poor by detaching us from the illusion of immortality, we can really become present to the elderly. We can then listen to what they say without worrying about how we can answer. We can pay attention to what they have to offer without being concerned about what we can give. We can see what they are in themselves without wondering what we can be for them. When we have emptied ourselves of false occupations and preoccupations, we can offer free space to old strangers, where not only bread and wine but also the story of life can be shared” (Henri Nouwen).

I think I remember reading about different cultures in the past where two or three generations of the same family lived under one roof, and when one got older, the family would take care of that person. I understand that times have changed. I also understand that we live in a very modern Western society where we have facilities for caring for those who can no longer care for themselves.

This is not bashing those institutions or those who place their aging loved ones in such places. This is about how there is a kind of joy that comes from taking care of the elderly. They have so much wisdom from having lived so long. They have stories and pictures and memories to share.

I’d give anything right now to have at least one of my grandparents alive again to be able to listen to them talk for as long as they wanted, to look at old photo albums, listen to old music. I’d even take hearing the same stories told again and again.

This society doesn’t value age very much. We tend to glamorize youth and desperately seek ways to prolong looking and acting young rather than to teach about how blessed it is to grow old gracefully and embrace each stage of your life.

I’m 52, and as much as I want to think I’m still in my 20s, my body reminds me that I’m not. My brain may think I can stay up until 2 am and be okay the next morning, but the rest of me is like, “Are you kidding me right now?”

My church advocates for mentoring between young adults and older adults. I can think of no better way to gain wisdom than from someone who has a lifetime of learning by trial and error and from knowledge and understanding passed down through generations. Hopefully, I can be of value to the next generations as the older generations have been to me.

The best way to learn to love and follow Jesus is to spend time with those who have loved and followed Jesus for a lifetime. My pastor talks about how his love of the Bible and prayer came from watching his own father spend time in the Word preparing for and praying over Sunday School lessons.

That’s not a bad idea.

Still My Favorite

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Kudos to whoever thought up the concept of coffee. I was late to the game, but I now depend on this concoction to get me going in the mornings. A day without coffee is like . . . who am I kidding? I have no idea.

The kind of coffee determines how I take it. If it’s the regular Folger’s, then I will typically add some kind of creamer. If it’s a Fresh Market flavored coffee or a light roast, then I will only add sugar. As long as it’s not decaf, then I’m good to go.

But as you who drink coffee know, that first sip in the morning is like a tonic for the soul. It goes to a place inside me where all my happiness lives and awakens me and helps me do all the adulting for the next 24 hours.

It may be a bad morning. Everything else may be going wrong, but if I have that first cup of coffee, I know that the day will eventually get better. My office might literally fall apart around me, but at least I won’t be sleepy.

So whoever invented coffee should probably have a holiday. I don’t mean one of those wimpy holidays that only get stuck on calendars. I mean the kind where everyone gets a day off of work and no mail runs and everyone rejoices. And I can drink more coffee.

Thankful for Being Well

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“It is health that is real wealth and not pieces of gold and silver” (Mahatma Gandhi).

“Health is the thing that makes you feel that now is the best time of the year” (Franklin Pierce Adams).

I’m slowly but surely on the mend. The fever’s gone, the energy’s returning, and the cough . . . well, as the great philosopher Meat Loaf once said, two out of three ain’t bad.

I never fully appreciate my good health until after I’ve been sick. It’s a lesson I have to re-learn over and over. The pattern goes like: 1) me taking my health for granted, 2) me coming down with a nasty fever, 3) me feeling like death warmed over and wanting to hibernate until spring, 4) me finally mending and getting well, 5) me being grateful for my heath– for a little while.

Then I read about someone who’s way more sick than I ever was. Or someone who’s been fighting chronic illness for years. Or someone who’s life expectancy went from years to months or weeks or even days.

In a culture where we have some of the most advanced medical technology and knowledge, it’s the norm to not give a second thought to your health. It almost feels like a given for most of us that we will live out our 80 years in relative comfort.

But lately, it seems like death has touched so many of my friends’ families. Even some of my friends and family. Sure, some lived to a ripe old age, but too many departed this life much too soon.

So, thank you God for my health. I’m grateful for each day, knowing that tomorrow is neither guaranteed nor promised. I will do my best to appreciate and enjoy and savor this one life as much as I possibly can and never take anyone in my life for granted.