Transitory Psychosis

As you know, two days ago (March 9) President Barak Obama fulfilled a campaign promise by signing an executive order authorizing the use of tax-dollars for embryo-destructive research on embryonic stem cells. This order effectively lifted restrictions on the use of federal funds for this research.

The President hailed the order as “an important step in advancing the cause of science in America.” He described it as being “about letting scientists like those here today do their jobs, free from manipulation or coercion and listening to what they tell us, even when it’s inconvenient–especially when it’s inconvenient.”
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As I was getting dressed this morning, a song on the radio caught my attention. I’d heard it before, but for some reason today it really hit me. The song is MercyMe’s, Bring the Rain. The lyrics, taken from the band’s website, are as follows.
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(The final installment)

In previous posts, we’ve seen that God has a plan for our pain.

First, to display His works. Sometimes through healing (John 9:1-3). Sometimes by giving us grace to deal with the situation as it is (2 Cor. 12:7-10).

Second, to be a catalyst for ministry. Our pain gives us an opportunity to minister to others (2 Cor. 1:3, 4). Our pain also gives others an opportunity to minister to us (Rom 12:15).

There is a third purpose for our pain: To teach us of God’s love.
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(Continued from posts on 3-11 and 3-12)

As I discussed in the previous post, God allows pain to enter our lives to display His glory–sometimes through healing us, sometimes through giving us grace to deal with it.

A second reason God allows our pain is to be a catalyst for ministry. This reason also has two facets.
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(Continued from Part 1-3-11-08. Read that post first for the whole context.)

God has a plan for our pain. He may not be the author of our pain, but He is Lord over it. There is a measure of comfort in those words. But the fact remains, God doesn’t answer all our questions. In my life with MS, each loss–big or small–has left me wondering why.

When my kids were embarrassed because their friends thought I was a drunk since I staggered and stumbled.

When I realized I couldn’t visually track a Ping Pong ball anymore.
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Let me introduce my friend. Officially, we met 15 years ago, but we’ve actually known each other since the early 1980s. Honestly, my friend is rude and pushy and I’d rather not hang out with him, but he insists on it. His name: multiple sclerosis. Most people just call him, MS.

MS is a neurological disease causing fatigue, tingling and numbness in the extremities, imbalance, vision problems, speech difficulties, sensitivity to heat and cold, and other symptoms you don’t want to know about. There are several types of the disease:
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On March 2, I had the distinct privilege of speaking at The Donelson Fellowship in Nashville, TN where my wife and I are members. Pastor Robert Morgan had asked me to speak for the Sunday night service in his absence . It was planned back in December, as I recall, so I had plenty of time to think, pray, and prepare.

Rob had asked me to do something I’ve not done at TDF–talk about my struggles with multiple sclerosis in a testimony/message. I’ve been speaking publicly for about 30 years, over 20 of those years as a pastor. I’ve even spoken at TDF before. So the idea of speaking didn’t bother me. The idea of talking about my battle with MS did.
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MS is my unwelcome friend. Yours may be called something else. But as I mentioned in yesterday’s post, living with my unwelcome friend has enabled me to learn a lot. Let me share five of those lessons.

1. Trust the wisdom of God’s timing. One of the frustrating things about MS is that it attacks young adults. At the time of life when energy and activity should be at a high level, MS undercuts both. However, I continue to marvel at God’s timing. Although, looking back, I had symptoms of MS in the early 1980s, I did not begin to truly experience life-altering changes until the early 90s. By then, I had the privilege of coaching sports, playing with the kids, participating in active vacations, and doing many such things. Because Dianna and I married and had children early, my kids were in their teen years before Dad began to suffer real physical limitations.
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It’s been cold here in Nashville for the past couple of days. We even got a little snow. Let’s just say that the cold and I do not coexist happily. As a person with multiple sclerosis (MS), I don’t handle temperature extremes (hot or cold) very well. In the cold and hot months my life is pretty much lived from one temperature-controlled environment to another.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not in a wheelchair or anything and please don’t call me one of Jerry’s Kids (different disease). I work a little over 40 hours a week and do a lot of what I want to do.
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I’m writing this on a plane, headed home from a 13-day vacation. The trip has been mostly about seeing family, celebrating my father’s 80th birthday, and eating—too much eating—but I’ll save the details for another time. I’ve been struck by something on this trip that often I hardly notice.

This is really only the second trip I’ve taken by air since my MS has worsened to the point that standing in long security lines and walking long distances from check-in to gates has become uncomfortable–enough so that I am willing to make use of the airline-provided wheelchairs and courtesy personnel. (Short walks and even stairs don’t bother me much, but long walks or standing for a long period of time quickly becomes uncomfortable.)
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