​One of the many cartoons I watched as a kid (probably would again if it were on) involved a Mr. Wizard and his young protege', Tooter, the turtle. Their adventures involved Mr. Wizard sending Tooter into the past to meet various persons and become involved in many a misadventure.  Once in the throes of such a catastrophe, Tooter would yell out, "Help Mr. Wizard!  I don't want to be a 'whatever' anymore!" Tooter would become enamored of some dering do he'd read about and ask Mr. Wizard to enable him to be such (cowboy, pilot, pirate, whatever) to fulfill his idea of life in whatever hero he wanted to become.  Invariably, Tooter would discover his dreams of being whatever would run afoul of reality resulting in his calling out for rescue.

​There is ample evidence of comparison between young Tooter and myself when I recall my adventures (and misadventures) as a youngster acting out many so-called heroic encounters with all manner of imaginary beings.  From Flash Gordon to Sgt. Rock, as well as a myriad of other heroes, I would be a hero saving humanity from whatever scourge or enemy my vivid imagination could conjure up.  These imaginary adventures were mostly harmless, and it amazed me, looking back, how much time I spent doing such things.  One time some friends and my two brothers built a raft (ala Huckleberry Finn) out of some pallets, two discarded fuel tanks from an aircraft junkyard at MCAS (Marine Corps Air Station) Cherry Point, NC.  We journeyed in our raft up and down Slocum Creek, which bordered the housing development where we lived.  Such trips usually were an all-day affair; there was something about lazing away a hot summer day doing nothing but poling our raft up and down this one section of Slocum Creek, imagining all manner of brave exploits.  Again, mostly harmless until one day, we allowed the current to capture our raft and take us to a point where the poles we had could no longer reach the bottom.  At that point, we were out of control and drifting slowly and inexorably toward the Neuse River.
We thought it just another neat way to further our experiences as young heroes, little realizing that once out of Slocum Creek and into the current of the Neuse River, our next stop could have been the Atlantic Ocean.  To say that our craft was not seaworthy is an understatement, ignorance being bliss we were enjoying ourselves.

​There is ample evidence of comparison between young Tooter and myself when I recall my adventures (and misadventures) as a youngster acting out many so-called heroic encounters with all manner of imaginary beings.  From Flash Gordon to Sgt. Rock, as well as a myriad of other heroes, I would be a hero saving humanity from whatever scourge or enemy my vivid imagination could conjure up.  These imaginary adventures were mostly harmless, and it amazed me, looking back, how much time I spent doing such things.  One time some friends and my two brothers built a raft (ala Huckleberry Finn) out of some pallets, two discarded fuel tanks from an aircraft junkyard at MCAS (Marine Corps Air Station) Cherry Point, NC.  We journeyed in our raft up and down Slocum Creek, which bordered the housing development where we lived.  Such trips usually were an all-day affair; there was something about lazing away a hot summer day doing nothing but poling our raft up and down this one section of Slocum Creek, imagining all manner of brave exploits.  Again, mostly harmless until one day, we allowed the current to capture our raft and take us to a point where the poles we had could no longer reach the bottom.  At that point, we were out of control and drifting slowly and inexorably toward the Neuse River.
We thought it just another neat way to further our experiences as young heroes, little realizing that once out of Slocum Creek and into the current of the Neuse River, our next stop could have been the Atlantic Ocean.  To say that our craft was not seaworthy is an understatement, ignorance being bliss we were enjoying ourselves.

​The rest of my life up until March 6, 1988, remained the same as I blithely sailed along down the river of life, not realizing I needed rescuing most urgently.  When I left the Navy at the behest of my first wife, I initially went to NC State University in the Nuclear Engineering program there.  I discovered through interviewing at various power plants located in Virginia, North, and South Carolina that these plants were NOT built or run to the standards that I'd been used to while a nuclear-trained electrician in submarines.  As I had been enjoying my volunteer activity as an EMT (Emergency Medical Technician), the choice made was to change majors and schools, transferring to UNC and working on a major in nursing instead.  Concurrent with that, I also earned my paramedic license, something which, together with working as an RN in emergency departments, fed into my desire to be heroic.  As it turned out, my talent to remain calm in stressful situations and to assess and treat patients, did much to advance me in the eyes of superiors wherever I worked.  I was excellent at my job; the trouble was that I knew it.

The years passed, and my pride in my efforts continued to build; me, myself and I are as unholy as any three things can be.  One day, that pride led me to a decision that would forever change my life, ending my career as an RN and paramedic and sending me to prison for almost 24 years (23 years, seven months, and 25 days to be exact).  As when on the raft floating down the Slocum Creek, my life was floating downstream (like any dead fish), headed for destruction.  To many, that destruction was my going to prison; most of my so-called friends abandoned me when this happened, and I found myself at Central Prison in Raleigh, NC, without hope of ever getting out.

​In such an environment, I came to realize that this was the place for me. Pride had led me to believe my dreams were real and that all that "I" had accomplished was because of my abilities.  Silly, but no less stupid than my fantasies as a youngster.  In this dark, dangerous place where hope was dead, and existence was more survive than thrive, I had nowhere to turn to for help.  An invitation to attend the weekly worship service in the chapel was welcomed, not for any recognition on my part of my need, but to get out of the crowding for a time.  The next week I attended the service again (same reason, the overcrowding in the processing dormitory was beyond imagining), but something unexpected happened to me.  That "...still, small voice..." whispered my name, and I surrendered to His call.

​My journey of faith has been like the screen of an oscilloscope, no straight line, but a confusing multi-directional squiggle that lacked definition.  Even today, with the areas in which struggle goes on, failure is a companion that, while I may not embrace, I am all too familiar.  Thankfully, God does not leave me there.  To lose my career that was satisfying and rewarding for a life of unemployment (were it not for my wife remaining with me and welcoming me into her home when I was released, I would be homeless), but I can go on because of Whose I am.  One book I read while in prison impacted me greatly, and the words from the author continue to reverberate in my heart.

​Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn: "Bless You, Prison!""Solzhenitsyn in the 1950s at the Kazakh prison camp that inspired 'A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich.'"
Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn: It was granted to me to carry away from my prison years on my bent back, which nearly broke beneath its load, this essential experience: how a human being becomes evil and how good.
In the intoxication of youthful successes, I had felt myself to be infallible, and I was, therefore, cruel.
In the surfeit of power, I was a murderer and an oppressor.
In my most evil moments, I was convinced that I was doing good, and I was well supplied with systematic arguments.
It was only when I lay there on rotting prison straw that I sensed within myself the first stirrings of good.
Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either—but right through every human heart—and through all human hearts. . . .
That is why I turn back to the years of my imprisonment and say, sometimes to the astonishment of those about me:
"Bless you, prison!"
I . . . have served enough time there.
I nourished my soul there, and I say without hesitation: "Bless you, prison, for having been in my life!"
—Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago: 1918-1956, Volume 2, pp. 615-617.

The time in prison and the loss of career and respect is a paltry price to pay for an eternity with my King.  I'm not Home yet, and I continue to fail my King, but one thing I do...I press on.

The journey continues...

“I know my Redeemer lives,
and at the last He will stand on the earth.”
Job 19:25

“This day is called the feast of Crispian:

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,

Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,

And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

He that shall live this day, and see old age,

Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,

And say ‘Tomorrow is Saint Crispian:’

Then he will strip his sleeve and show his scars.

And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,

But he’ll remember with advantages

What feats he did that day…

And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remember’d;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition

And gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.”

King Henry V, Act 4. Scene III by William Shakespeare

 

There is a brotherhood among those who have ‘seen the elephant’ in its many guises; my own service in submarines provided one particular episode on my first patrol that I’m still not sure whether I can discuss it publically, but that those who were there can and should stand tall as we did our duty that day at risk of our lives and all we hold dear.  The biggest enemy we had in the boats was the ever-present, implacable sea whose pressure always sought to force a way into our steel tube, but the Soviets and their allies provided some moments of challenge as well.

For my brothers who fought our nations’ enemies in other areas as well as those who stand facing our enemies today, may the reading of the speech attributed to King Henry V by Shakespeare give you courage and well-earned pride at your service.  Liberty is costly; those who enjoy the freedom that is theirs by right as citizens of the United States are debtors (acknowledged or no) to those who have once written a blank check to the government, especially who cashed out in their blood.

 

 

In a recent lesson at the Chapel Hill Bible Church, James Abrahamson while teaching on ethics used a quote from the movie, Saving Private Ryan, where the central character asks his wife this question, “Did I live a good life?” A very poignant question in light of how just previously in the movie (a flashback to events in which Ryan was rescued by a platoon led by an officer played by Tom Hanks, of whom most had been killed during the effort to find Ryan) Captain Miller (played by Tom Hanks) lay dying of his wounds, he grabs Ryan and tells him, “Earn it!” referring to the sacrifices of his men who were killed ensuring he would return home.

This hammered me as few things could; I've seen the movie and did not recall either quote, but looking back online saw that these two quotes did indeed occur, the turmoil they have caused within my own heart is beyond description.  These two brief sentences seemed to highlight a struggle I've had recently; on one part I recognize that nothing I can do can earn the grace God has given me in Christ, but how to answer the question that the older Ryan asks his wife?  Dare I ask that of anyone, even myself?

I did serve in the military; both in the Navy as a nuclear-trained electrician mainly on board a ballistic missile submarine and in the Army Reserve as a field medic while going to school at UNC.  My career as a nurse and paramedic were abbreviated by an egregious decision which led to my being incarcerated following my causing a patient’s death in ICU.  To many (most it seems considering how I have remained unemployed since my release) that one decision erases all the ‘good’ that I've ever done.  As I related this once to a friend, it seems the feeling among the vast majority of folks is “…once convicted, always condemned!” 

So, how would I answer the question Ryan asked his wife?  How would those who know me answer it?  Dare I ask it?

 

I HATE cancer! 

Yeah, I know; doesn't make a lot of sense to hate a disease (or in the case of cancer, panoply of diseases that can be characterized by that one title), but I do.  I HATE cancer! 

This Sword of Damocles that hangs over all of our heads has stolen from me my Father, several good friends; has threatened others I know and love with death and is an ever present companion in my life secondary to our wonderful government’s intentional exposure of our military to varying degrees of radiation during the atomic tests in the Pacific and in our own country.  My Dad was one whose aircraft was directed through one of the clouds mushrooming over some forgotten Pacific atoll and then followed through the years (surreptitiously) to determine the genetic and somatic effects of that exposure.

The reasoning must have seemed justifiable to those in power back then; this Cold War we were fighting against the growing power of the Soviet Union (hey, guess what, it’s baaaaack!) and apparently they wanted to learn if it was possible to survive a nuclear exchange.  So, years later, long after Dad had retired, he was diagnosed with colo-rectal cancer that would take his life several years later.  One of my sisters did some research on the genetic effects and as a result had her sons checked for something called Lynch Syndrome.  Several members of the Shook family have tested positive for this and as a result we are at elevated risks for all manner of cancers.

Since Dad’s death I have lost a niece to cancer and my twin brother has been treated (so far successfully) for colo-rectal cancer.  I have no idea how much money has been spent on the early detection and treatment of the various types of cancer; I don’t know if we will ever eradicate this threat to our health, but I doubt it.

Several days ago I saw some images posted on Facebook of a friend from my brief association with Go Realty who had been diagnosed with and was battling leukemia.  The last I’d heard from her (or anyone at Go) was that the treatment was succeeding and she was improving.  Seeing her image, I assumed that she was in remission and was looking forward to seeing her again.  Then, while travelling with another of my Go friends, he told me that she had died.

Apparently the images were posted as a remembrance of this wonderful lady and I had misunderstood that until Tom had told me and I began to read messages on Facebook about her death.

I HATE cancer!

“He who testifies to these things says, ‘Surely I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!”

Revelation 22:20 ESV

Recent events in a suburb of St. Louis have me doing more than a cursory search of my own attitudes and beliefs.  One particular person whom I do greatly respect has called me to task for something I posted on Facebook in which someone responded to what is happening in that troubled town.  I allowed the fact that the individual in the above video rant is black to not hear the invective that this person uses; yes he makes some viable points that I do agree with, but the use of derogatory language toward any person of any ethnicity for any reason is never appropriate for a disciple of Jesus and being a platform for the dissemination of such drivel is just wrong.  I was wrong and I apologize to those whom I offended with that video, especially you Karen Garmon (if you’re still reading my posts in Facebook or my blog).

What brought this about?  My friend Karen commented on the rant I’d thoughtlessly passed along and, while I did not initially take that to heart, an article I read this morning reinforced the twisting in my heart that had already begun since reading Karen’s comments.  That “…still, small voice…” once again interrupted my preconceived ideas of right and wrong and reminded me of a prejudice that I live with every day.  In many ways this particular prejudice puts me in the same boat with many spoken of in Matt Chandler’s article on The Gospel Coalition, but it is a prejudice that crosses all boundaries, encompassing many of your neighbors and perhaps some of your friends.  We are a population that is forever tainted with a stain that, like Lady Macbeth’s, can never be scrubbed clean from the view of those around us.  We are condemned to forever carry the red “F”  (for felon) on our lives (Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote of a woman sentenced to wear a scarlet “A” in The Scarlet Letter with whom we can identify); we are people who at one time in our lives have been convicted of crime against society.  I've blogged before on this topic, commenting that it seems in many places the attitude seems to be “…once convicted, always condemned.” 

This sub-culture of individuals (many whom have had only one conviction) can find it almost impossible to find meaningful work or even a place to live; we live with the dread of friends finding out our secret or, if they already know, what they really think of us.  Being the recipient of such has, perhaps, made me more sensitive to others who face such daily simply because of the presence or absence of melanin in a few millimeters thickness of the outer layer of their skin!  Without knowing a person, without realizing who they are we judge and condemn someone because of their color.  Crazy, insane, sinful, just plain wrong!  We can do better, especially those who read this who are of the community of faith in Christ.  We are called to be better than this!

The facts surrounding the death of Michael Brown are not in yet; sadly because of the furor over what has happened, the whole truth may never be reached.  But can’t we provide the same grace that is given to us by a loving God to this situation as well?  Whatever reason for the actions of Mr. Brown or of the officer who shot him; it is time we as a society did some heart-searching and reflecting on the divisiveness that seems to be gripping our nation.  Is this the America that our founding father’s envisioned?

We can be better.

In my reading this morning, I once again turned to the Gospel Coalition web site for my daily dose of D.A. Carson’s blog, but also looked to see what other articles/blogs had been posted since my last visit.  I was attracted to an article by Matt Smethurst, an associate editor for Gospel Coalition, who wrote a brief blog in which he cites a sermon delivered by John Piper, Israel, Palestine, and the Middle East for what he refers to as seven principles regarding that roiled part of a troubled world that strip away the political and religious rhetoric and help us see how there really is only one solution to this and every part of our anxious world and its’ peoples.

I’ve followed the people and nation of Israel since serving in the Navy and being in a submarine operating in the Mediterranean Sea during the Yom Kippur War of 1973.  From the birth of this nation by United Nations mandate in 1948 to the present they have been beset on every side by invective and attacks of isolated and widespread nature; even seemingly moments from being overwhelmed, they persevere as a nation and a people.  I do admire their determination in the face of such opposition and well remember the history of this people as depicted in Scripture.  Mr. Smethurt’s article and John Piper’s sermon give an insight that is rare in this sound bite filled world.

Golda Meir, former Prime Minister of Israel, once stated, “We will have peace with the Arabs when they love their children more than they hate us.”  There is a truth to that which is undeniable; I would ask, however, is it not also true for Israel?  This ongoing and seemingly never-ending war between Israel and the Arab people is a drain on their peoples and resources as a constant flash point that will one day trigger a global conflagration beyond any imagining.  There are valid reasons for the turmoil and stated purposes of each side, but in the end there can be only one solution to bring real peace to the Middle East and this sad, beleaguered world we all live on.

Ten years ago, John Piper offered a clear look at the war-torn Middle East from the view of Scripture that Matt Smethurst points us to that must be understood if we are to avoid the increasingly bitter bombast of all sides.  There really is only one Solution and peace for the Middle East and Earth will only occur when He reigns.

“And a highway shall be there,
and it shall be called the Way of Holiness;
the unclean shall not pass over it.
It shall belong to those who walk on the way;
even if they are fools, they shall not go astray.
No lion shall be there,
nor shall any ravenous beast come up on it;
they shall not be found there,
but the redeemed shall walk there.
And the ransomed of the Lord shall return
and come to Zion with singing;
everlasting joy shall be upon their heads;
they shall obtain gladness and joy,
and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.”

Isaiah 35:8-10 ESV

In my reading this morning I was reminded of how it is God who brought me to His Way through His gift of faith, but He keeps me daily in His Son even when my predilection is to stray.  My old man is all too ready to abandon holiness for hedonism and the pleasures of the world; the allurements of the world blinding me to the wonder of a God who loves me and has for me so much more now and forever.

For some time now I’ve followed D.A. Carson’s blog, For the Love of God¸ on the website for the Gospel Coalition and the combination of four different Scripture readings along with his insights into a part of those readings have often called to my heart and this morning is no different.  In Psalm 90, Moses tells me that God would have me to “…number my days…” that I would learn wisdom; this life is not forever and the all too fleeting pleasures and passions of today that too often can take my eyes off of Him are ephemeral and fleeting, leaving me empty of comfort or satisfaction.  Walking in His Way will, however, give fulfillment and joy both now and forever and He promises to keep me in that Way. 

Yes, as Isaiah has written, this fool is kept from going astray by a God who loves me more than I realize even though He knows me better than I know myself.  That is truly Amazing Grace indeed!

"For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal."

2 Corinthians 4:17, 18 ESV

Jay Thomas, lead pastor at the Chapel Hill Bible Church, taught Resurrection Morning on this Scripture which may seem somewhat off topic, but was in fact directly on topic.  In the above verse Paul has the temerity to describe the day-to-day struggles and suffering so many go through as “…light and momentary…”  Where does this man get off saying such to those enduring cancer, horrific pain from injury, the loss of a deeply loved spouse, or any of a myriad such that occur every day on this sad planet called Earth?  Is Paul mad to say such or just incredibly cruel and heartless?

As with any successful study of Scripture, context is vitally important and such is especially true here as well.  Earlier in this same section of 2 Corinthians, Paul states:

“Since we have the same spirit of faith according to what has been written, “I believed, and so I spoke,” we also believe, and so we also speak, knowing that he who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus and bring us with you into his presence. For it is all for your sake, so that as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.”

2 Corinthians 4:13-15 ESV

If ever there was an example of anyone who suffered throughout the history of Earth, it would be that of Jesus.  He is described elsewhere as a man of sorrows acquainted with grief and using such language to describe God seems as mad as Paul’s statement above.  But is it?  Did Paul and other writers of Scripture have an understanding we often lack?  Looking at Paul’s life as an apostle to Christ we see a man who did indeed suffer through beatings and persecution and even an attempted assassination via stoning; yet Paul describes this and all such suffering (earned or otherwise) as “…light and momentary…”  Why? 

Perspective can lift our eyes from the mud of daily life to the glory and wonder of what is coming; Paul leads up to his dramatic statement above by reminding us of the one truly innocent man who suffered far beyond any imagining and did so not out of duty, but from an overflowing of the love of God toward mankind throughout history, worthy or not.  His sacrifice benefits us by extending an invitation to enter into God’s presence throughout eternity when we did nothing to deserve it, often quite the reverse! 

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”

2 Corinthians 4:16-18 ESV

It is all too easy to “…lose heart…” when we or those we love suffer or are treated unfairly, but Paul challenges us here not to lose heart, but to look beyond today into eternity.  He seems to be telling us to live for what is to come more than what we may be facing now, this perspective can dramatically affect how we react to any perceived slight or illness.  Jay spoke of the difference between looking at an anthill in the plains of West Texas versus the majestic reach of Mount Everest in the Himalayan Mountains.  As the writer of Hebrews stated;

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”

Hebrews 12:1,2 ESV

Jesus looked forward to what was to come and not only endured, but embraced the cross that He would open the way Home for us and when we focus on eternity, on the “…eternal weight of glory…” to come, we too can lift our eyes from the mud of today into the glory of forever.  Years ago I heard a bit of verse that has stayed with me and it seems to fit what Paul is speaking to, so I’ll share it here:

“Two men looked through prison bars, One saw mud, one saw stars” (Oscar Wilde)

Recently a friend from my family at Go Realty was diagnosed with Leukemia and was hospitalized for treatment.  Part of that treatment involved chemotherapy resulting in her losing her hair.  This is bad enough for a guy, but I cannot begin to imagine what this can do to a woman's self-image.

Some years ago, while I was incarcerated, a nephew was also diagnosed with this same disease and, hearing that he too had lost his hair, got together with a group of guys I knew 'inside' and we all had our heads shaved and got a group picture made.  Kathy told me later that the photo of all those 'convicts' with bald heads for him really lifted his spirits.  It was a simple thing to do, hair does grow back (albeit in my case it came back a bit thinner than before), so it wasn't that big of a deal.

This past week during the Go Durham's weekly Huddle, Karen (the Broker In Charge aka Den-Mother...think of someone herding cats) suggested we all get together and purchase some hats for our friend.  Simple thing to do and I was more than willing to help with this effort to help a friend, but me being me I felt that another gesture would be appropriate as well.  

I've been told that I have an ooogly head when it is not covered by hair, so I ask your indulgence while we all wait for my hair to grow back.  I will be wearing a hat almost all the time (it is amazing how much you can feel the air moving past your head when you just walk); may even try some plant food on my scalp to see if that speeds the process along.  Regardless, if it causes some smiles and laughter from my friend, then all the weird looks I'll get will be more than worth it.

Love you Christine!