Dear Readers,
Posting to my blog site has become more difficult. It's harder to sit up at my computer with the collapsing of my stomach muscles, and loss of finger strength is making keyboarding much more difficult. I'm trying my best to find workarounds for these barriers and ask for your prayers that I will find the right tools to continue this blog. My computer and mobile devices are the only voices I have left, and I very much desire to stay connected to you. I see many of you at church and on other occasions and miss so much the ability to respond to your kind words and questions.
Peace,
David
Sunday, October 30, 2016
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
Cognitive Dissonance
Perhaps, like many of you, I've held tightly to my beliefs and opinions, only to be confronted by entirely different viewpoints that seemed to make equal sense. Invariably, this state of affairs has made me uneasy, and in my pursuit of intellectual honesty, I've gotten myself "wrapped around the axle" more often than I can count.
Psychologists have coined a term for this experience. They call it cognitive dissonance and describe it (at least according to Wikipedia) as the mental stress or discomfort experienced by an individual who holds two or more contradictory beliefs, ideas, or values at the same time; performs an action that is contradictory to one or more beliefs, ideas, or values; or is confronted by new information that conflicts with existing beliefs, ideas, or values. Not too many years ago, this unsettling experience went by a term that was generally and instinctively understood, but now has fallen into general disuse – the word, conscience.
My own cognitive dissonance has been especially acute in the realm of politics. But honoring my pledge not to wade into political waters on my blog, I'll talk about another example - the cognitive dissonance that comes with racism. As a child, I grew up respecting my parents and, by extension, all adult authority. As such, adults in charge could do no wrong. But that view was first seriously challenged when I was nine years old. As my parents and I were driving to New Orleans, where my dad would be attending a convention, we made a gasoline and restroom stop somewhere in East Texas. Stepping out of the car, I immediately headed for the restroom, which was marked ""Whites Only". There was no other restroom for men. The first thing that popped out of my mouth was "Dad, where do boys that aren't white go?" The answer was buried in his silence, and I was instantly both angered, confused, and profoundly disappointed by how adults could be so unfair. The side-by-side "Whites Only" and "Colored Only" drinking fountains didn't help matters. Later in life I became fascinated with everything connected with the American Civil War, primarily because of the national cognitive dissonance created by the coexistence of the institution of slavery and the concept of all men being created equal.
I've always been a person who tries to get along and not make waves. I've craved acceptance by every group I've been a part of. But the inevitable result has been almost unbearable cognitive dissonance. The answer I found is not in a set of rules, a code of ethics, a personal agenda, or a party platform, but in the person of Christ. Just like he did when he encountered people over 2,000 years ago, he continues to challenge me to peel the onion and find the core motivation for every opinion I hold about every subject that really matters. Only then am I able to know whether my opinion is based on selfishness or loving concern for others. And only then am I able to hold my opinion confidently and boldly state it without cognitive dissonance.
Psychologists have coined a term for this experience. They call it cognitive dissonance and describe it (at least according to Wikipedia) as the mental stress or discomfort experienced by an individual who holds two or more contradictory beliefs, ideas, or values at the same time; performs an action that is contradictory to one or more beliefs, ideas, or values; or is confronted by new information that conflicts with existing beliefs, ideas, or values. Not too many years ago, this unsettling experience went by a term that was generally and instinctively understood, but now has fallen into general disuse – the word, conscience.
My own cognitive dissonance has been especially acute in the realm of politics. But honoring my pledge not to wade into political waters on my blog, I'll talk about another example - the cognitive dissonance that comes with racism. As a child, I grew up respecting my parents and, by extension, all adult authority. As such, adults in charge could do no wrong. But that view was first seriously challenged when I was nine years old. As my parents and I were driving to New Orleans, where my dad would be attending a convention, we made a gasoline and restroom stop somewhere in East Texas. Stepping out of the car, I immediately headed for the restroom, which was marked ""Whites Only". There was no other restroom for men. The first thing that popped out of my mouth was "Dad, where do boys that aren't white go?" The answer was buried in his silence, and I was instantly both angered, confused, and profoundly disappointed by how adults could be so unfair. The side-by-side "Whites Only" and "Colored Only" drinking fountains didn't help matters. Later in life I became fascinated with everything connected with the American Civil War, primarily because of the national cognitive dissonance created by the coexistence of the institution of slavery and the concept of all men being created equal.
I've always been a person who tries to get along and not make waves. I've craved acceptance by every group I've been a part of. But the inevitable result has been almost unbearable cognitive dissonance. The answer I found is not in a set of rules, a code of ethics, a personal agenda, or a party platform, but in the person of Christ. Just like he did when he encountered people over 2,000 years ago, he continues to challenge me to peel the onion and find the core motivation for every opinion I hold about every subject that really matters. Only then am I able to know whether my opinion is based on selfishness or loving concern for others. And only then am I able to hold my opinion confidently and boldly state it without cognitive dissonance.
Monday, October 3, 2016
Common Grace
I often flounder when I try to use
"religious" language, as I'm attempting to do now. The words of religion are
understood to have very specific meanings by those who make it their life’s
work to study God. These words serve as convenient shorthand for complex
concepts, much like the vocabularies of doctors, lawyers, and scientists.
Grace is one of those religious words that can seem to mean different things, in different contexts, to different people. Often referred to as "God's unmerited favor", the word grace is used hundreds of times in the Bible.
For most of my life, the concept of grace has been more a comforting abstraction than a living reality. I've had flashes of what it means, especially when my life was in turmoil, but once the crises passed, my epiphanies followed suit. Now that I'm in the middle of a new crisis, I'm again confronted by God's grace head on.
Ever since reading the book, Tuesdays with Morrie, I can't get Morrie's words out of my mind: "Most of us walk around as if we're sleepwalking. We really don't experience the world fully because we're half asleep, doing things we automatically think we have to do... Learn how to die, and you learn how to live." Now that I know that I'm dying at a faster clip, I'm deliberately trying to wake up to everything around me. And, in so doing, I'm becoming more aware of how God is working for good in and through the world. Some people call this "common grace", and I'll adopt this term as my shorthand for a presence that defies attempts to define it, a presence that must be experienced to be understood, a presence that is nothing short of transcendent.
In recent months I've begun to wake up and see God's common grace more clearly. It suffuses his creation and is planted in the hearts of all he made in his own image. I find it everywhere, inhabiting every corner of my world. It’s evident in the countless acts of kindness by people I'm closest to and by people I've never even met, by people who share my faith and by people who don't. And startlingly, it's evident in the lives of people I mistreated years ago who, nonetheless, love and support me. It's manifest in unceasing prayers and acts of encouragement to me and my wife; in unfailing accommodation by everyone to my physical limitations; in strong backs and skillful fingers helping me complete the "honey dos" that honey can no longer do; and in the requests for my help in a variety of ways, restoring to me a sense of accomplishment and making it possible to return grace to others.
I'd be lying if I said ALS hasn't tested my faith. Some days I feel like I'm holding on by only the thinnest of threads. But the grace I experience works on my heart. It reveals a loving creator who gave me a way to both recognize and experience his presence. And that makes me hold on.
Grace is one of those religious words that can seem to mean different things, in different contexts, to different people. Often referred to as "God's unmerited favor", the word grace is used hundreds of times in the Bible.
For most of my life, the concept of grace has been more a comforting abstraction than a living reality. I've had flashes of what it means, especially when my life was in turmoil, but once the crises passed, my epiphanies followed suit. Now that I'm in the middle of a new crisis, I'm again confronted by God's grace head on.
Ever since reading the book, Tuesdays with Morrie, I can't get Morrie's words out of my mind: "Most of us walk around as if we're sleepwalking. We really don't experience the world fully because we're half asleep, doing things we automatically think we have to do... Learn how to die, and you learn how to live." Now that I know that I'm dying at a faster clip, I'm deliberately trying to wake up to everything around me. And, in so doing, I'm becoming more aware of how God is working for good in and through the world. Some people call this "common grace", and I'll adopt this term as my shorthand for a presence that defies attempts to define it, a presence that must be experienced to be understood, a presence that is nothing short of transcendent.
In recent months I've begun to wake up and see God's common grace more clearly. It suffuses his creation and is planted in the hearts of all he made in his own image. I find it everywhere, inhabiting every corner of my world. It’s evident in the countless acts of kindness by people I'm closest to and by people I've never even met, by people who share my faith and by people who don't. And startlingly, it's evident in the lives of people I mistreated years ago who, nonetheless, love and support me. It's manifest in unceasing prayers and acts of encouragement to me and my wife; in unfailing accommodation by everyone to my physical limitations; in strong backs and skillful fingers helping me complete the "honey dos" that honey can no longer do; and in the requests for my help in a variety of ways, restoring to me a sense of accomplishment and making it possible to return grace to others.
I'd be lying if I said ALS hasn't tested my faith. Some days I feel like I'm holding on by only the thinnest of threads. But the grace I experience works on my heart. It reveals a loving creator who gave me a way to both recognize and experience his presence. And that makes me hold on.
Sunday, October 2, 2016
The Opposible Thumb or Don't Listen to Your Dentist
By their first birthday most babies have taken their first steps and spoken a few words. But even earlier - at about four months - they begin to perfect one of the first skills involving coordination of their voluntary muscles - the ability to grasp. Grasping is only possible because we have opposable thumbs - so called because of their positioning opposite and slightly below the plane of our fingers. Opposable thumbs allow us to encircle, lift, and manipulate objects with our hands. We take a lot for granted about our anatomy and the ability to grasp is one of them.
In the manifestation of ALS in my life, the atrophy of muscles in my hands has distorted my thumbs. They no longer look or act like opposable thumbs. When I press my palms and fingers flat on a table, my thumbs stick up in the air.
I first became aware of problems with my thumbs about eight months before I was diagnosed with ALS. On what passes in Austin for a cold winter day, I attempted to repair the gate of my fence and was unable to hold the wood screw in my left hand as I operated the screwdriver with my right. I wrote the whole thing off to the cold and poor circulation. But my thumb muscles continued to deteriorate, and I can no longer manage buttons and zippers, pick up small objects, and effectively turn pages in a book. When I took a typing course in the eight grade I was able to type 80 words per minute with no errors on an old Royal manual typewriter. Now, my hands and fingers are so distorted that I have neither the strength nor the dexterity to keyboard the old way. For someone who has to use a keyboard in lieu of a voice to communicate this is a big deal.
Fortunately, I'm learning how to adapt. I dress in clothes with no zippers and buttons but lots of elastic, I use a stiff card to scoop up things I've dropped on the floor, I've switched from flipping pages to reading e-books on my IPad, and I've developed a modified touch typing/single finger typing system.
And, to the chagrin of my dentist, I now use my teeth to do a lot of things I used to do with my hands. Strong jaws and sharp teeth can do quite a number on shrink wrap!
My neurologist says my body is going to wear out a lot faster than my teeth. So, with all due respect to my dentist, get over it! If dogs are allowed to use their teeth to grab things, so can I.
In the manifestation of ALS in my life, the atrophy of muscles in my hands has distorted my thumbs. They no longer look or act like opposable thumbs. When I press my palms and fingers flat on a table, my thumbs stick up in the air.
I first became aware of problems with my thumbs about eight months before I was diagnosed with ALS. On what passes in Austin for a cold winter day, I attempted to repair the gate of my fence and was unable to hold the wood screw in my left hand as I operated the screwdriver with my right. I wrote the whole thing off to the cold and poor circulation. But my thumb muscles continued to deteriorate, and I can no longer manage buttons and zippers, pick up small objects, and effectively turn pages in a book. When I took a typing course in the eight grade I was able to type 80 words per minute with no errors on an old Royal manual typewriter. Now, my hands and fingers are so distorted that I have neither the strength nor the dexterity to keyboard the old way. For someone who has to use a keyboard in lieu of a voice to communicate this is a big deal.
Fortunately, I'm learning how to adapt. I dress in clothes with no zippers and buttons but lots of elastic, I use a stiff card to scoop up things I've dropped on the floor, I've switched from flipping pages to reading e-books on my IPad, and I've developed a modified touch typing/single finger typing system.
And, to the chagrin of my dentist, I now use my teeth to do a lot of things I used to do with my hands. Strong jaws and sharp teeth can do quite a number on shrink wrap!
My neurologist says my body is going to wear out a lot faster than my teeth. So, with all due respect to my dentist, get over it! If dogs are allowed to use their teeth to grab things, so can I.
Thursday, September 29, 2016
On Pride
I had intended since I started my blog to write down my thoughts on pride, but I came across this article posted today by Dr. Daniel Napier of the Austin Graduate School of Theology that addresses this topic with great insight. Following are the first few paragraphs of his post. I urge you to read the complete version at http://info.austingrad.edu/christianstudies/understanding-the-most-toxic-sin-pride
"No aspect of Jesus’ teaching is so distinctive and world-changing as that concerning pride and humility. A simple historical observation makes the point well. Among the ancient moralists, humility and a mind given to service was actually considered vicious. Servility was despicable and vile. To do great things, it was thought, one must have a high self-estimation. The great-souled man made big boasts and then made good on them. Thus humility was thought a vice. For Jesus and his followers, on the other hand, humility is a primary virtue.
"Jesus understood that the engorged self-esteem, which was considered healthy and laudable among the pagans, actually debilitated them. Pride hinders the exercise of our greatest power – 'power under' - others in service. As a quick litmus test of the world-changing effect of Jesus’ teaching and example, just consider the last time a political leader assumed a title like ‘the Great’. This serves as an indicator of how much Jesus’ teachings have changed the consciousness of the West… at least at the level of public affirmation. On the other hand, human nature has not changed. The individual impulse to self-aggrandizement rages on and proves just as toxic today as ever.
"The peculiar toxicity of pride lies in the blindness it creates in its practitioner. Simply consider the fact that our secular society has developed ways of addressing every other distortion of heart that Jesus unveiled. Various therapies, 12-step programs, and institutions are in place to deal with anger, distorted desire, and even dishonesty – at least to some degree.
"Anger management therapy is available through purely secular institutions. Everyone recognizes sexual addiction, compulsive shopping, and kleptomania as problems. Clinical professionals address them in some manner. Even lying, when it reaches a certain level of compulsiveness, is acknowledged as undesirable. Sociopaths are considered diseased.
"The reason these programs and institutions exist is because people struggling with such things know they have a problem. When people are gripped by anger, twisted desires, and compulsive deceit it ruins their lives in a way they cannot easily ignore.
"But what about pride? Can you name a single analogous therapy, program, or institution designed to address it? With the possible exception of marriage, there is no institution in secular society designed to restore humility. I know of no Betty Ford Clinic for the Insufferably Arrogant. I’ve yet to find a chapter of Boasters Anonymous. Where does one go to detox from an ego that sucks the air from any room into which one walks?
"No aspect of Jesus’ teaching is so distinctive and world-changing as that concerning pride and humility. A simple historical observation makes the point well. Among the ancient moralists, humility and a mind given to service was actually considered vicious. Servility was despicable and vile. To do great things, it was thought, one must have a high self-estimation. The great-souled man made big boasts and then made good on them. Thus humility was thought a vice. For Jesus and his followers, on the other hand, humility is a primary virtue.
"Jesus understood that the engorged self-esteem, which was considered healthy and laudable among the pagans, actually debilitated them. Pride hinders the exercise of our greatest power – 'power under' - others in service. As a quick litmus test of the world-changing effect of Jesus’ teaching and example, just consider the last time a political leader assumed a title like ‘the Great’. This serves as an indicator of how much Jesus’ teachings have changed the consciousness of the West… at least at the level of public affirmation. On the other hand, human nature has not changed. The individual impulse to self-aggrandizement rages on and proves just as toxic today as ever.
"The peculiar toxicity of pride lies in the blindness it creates in its practitioner. Simply consider the fact that our secular society has developed ways of addressing every other distortion of heart that Jesus unveiled. Various therapies, 12-step programs, and institutions are in place to deal with anger, distorted desire, and even dishonesty – at least to some degree.
"Anger management therapy is available through purely secular institutions. Everyone recognizes sexual addiction, compulsive shopping, and kleptomania as problems. Clinical professionals address them in some manner. Even lying, when it reaches a certain level of compulsiveness, is acknowledged as undesirable. Sociopaths are considered diseased.
"The reason these programs and institutions exist is because people struggling with such things know they have a problem. When people are gripped by anger, twisted desires, and compulsive deceit it ruins their lives in a way they cannot easily ignore.
"But what about pride? Can you name a single analogous therapy, program, or institution designed to address it? With the possible exception of marriage, there is no institution in secular society designed to restore humility. I know of no Betty Ford Clinic for the Insufferably Arrogant. I’ve yet to find a chapter of Boasters Anonymous. Where does one go to detox from an ego that sucks the air from any room into which one walks?
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Sophie's Choice
In 1983, Meryl Streep won the Oscar for Best Actress in the movie, Sophie's Choice. Streep plays the role of a mother entering the Auschwitz death camp with her young son and daughter. In one of the most gut-wrenching scenes ever filmed, she is forced by a Nazi guard to choose which of her two children will be exterminated in the gas chamber and which will be sent to a labor camp. Only two possible choices. No alternatives. In a cry of anguish, she chooses her son to live.
Life is full of choices that have profound and irreversible consequences on our lives and the lives of others. As we mature, grow wiser, and become more prayerful, the choices become clearer. But not always. Sometimes we can find no good alternative even though we pray, we reach out in the right directions for help, and we strain our wisdom to the limit.
You may never have to make a Sophie's choice, but it's a sure bet that someone close to you has: a father who experienced the combat of war and returned home damaged and unwilling to speak about the unspeakable he participated in, or a sister in a horrifically abusive relationship with no apparent options but to break the vows she held sacred. The list goes on.
Surely, we think, there must be a right choice every time. But we live in a fallen, broken world. And sometimes in this totally messed up world, as my best friend calls it, our imperfect eyes see no options ... only inevitables. But that's where grace enters the picture - the mercy and healing God lavishes on us, and the balm of his reflected mercy and healing we can spread on everyone in our lives, especially those who had to made Sophie's choice.
Life is full of choices that have profound and irreversible consequences on our lives and the lives of others. As we mature, grow wiser, and become more prayerful, the choices become clearer. But not always. Sometimes we can find no good alternative even though we pray, we reach out in the right directions for help, and we strain our wisdom to the limit.
You may never have to make a Sophie's choice, but it's a sure bet that someone close to you has: a father who experienced the combat of war and returned home damaged and unwilling to speak about the unspeakable he participated in, or a sister in a horrifically abusive relationship with no apparent options but to break the vows she held sacred. The list goes on.
Surely, we think, there must be a right choice every time. But we live in a fallen, broken world. And sometimes in this totally messed up world, as my best friend calls it, our imperfect eyes see no options ... only inevitables. But that's where grace enters the picture - the mercy and healing God lavishes on us, and the balm of his reflected mercy and healing we can spread on everyone in our lives, especially those who had to made Sophie's choice.
Monday, September 19, 2016
Having Trouble Submitting a Comment?
Google has made it really hard to submit comments to postings
on this blog. First you must click on no comments, 1 comment, 2
comments, etc. at the bottom of the posting. This then allows you to
write a comment, using the space provided. Then you must go to Comment As
and open a drop down screen that asks you to select a profile, whatever
that is. If you see your name on one of the profiles, select that. If
you don't see your name, select Anonymous. If you want people to know who you are, type your name at the end of your comment before you select Anonymous.
Shame on Google for assuming people are computer geeks and can just
breeze through the commenting process. And shame on me for going on the
cheap - it was free. Sadly, you get what you pay for.
Sunday, September 18, 2016
Breaking the Sound Barrier
Breaking the Sound Barrier
I once taught a Sunday School class composed of mostly autistic teenage boys who were unable to speak. On one particular Sunday as I delivered the lesson, replete with visual aids, I noticed that one of the boys - lets call him John - was sitting perfectly still, head in his hands, staring at the floor. To my eyes, he looked upset and I asked him several times during the class if he was OK. But I got no response, no acknowledgement in any way of my well intentioned concern. However, after class, as everyone was beginning to leave, John walked up to me, placed his hands on my cheeks, and forcefully turned my head to face him. Then looking me straight in the eye, he gave me a big smile. You see, John was concerned about me too. He wasn't able to talk but he knew how to break the sound barrier and tell me everything was alright. I later learned that people with autism experience sensory overload and sometimes can't effectively process auditory and visual signals simultaneously. That Sunday morning John had chosen to shut off the video to focus on the audio - my words.
My biggest frustration is my loss of the power of speech. I'm no longer able to talk - one on one - with the people I love the most. Even my wife can seldom understand what passes from my lips for words. So now I use exaggerated facial movements, hand signals, and body language to get my messages across. I can compose sentences with the voice synthesizer on my IPad, but communicating this way is agonizingly slow. And forget entirely about joining a conversation. By the time I have my responses ready to send, the moment is lost and the conversation has moved on.
I have only now lost my ability to speak. But John is 20 or so and has never spoken a complete sentence in his life. And unless a miracle happens he never will. When I'm angry and tempted to take out my frustrations on those I love, I'm going to try to remember the patience and grace that John showed me that Sunday morning.
I once taught a Sunday School class composed of mostly autistic teenage boys who were unable to speak. On one particular Sunday as I delivered the lesson, replete with visual aids, I noticed that one of the boys - lets call him John - was sitting perfectly still, head in his hands, staring at the floor. To my eyes, he looked upset and I asked him several times during the class if he was OK. But I got no response, no acknowledgement in any way of my well intentioned concern. However, after class, as everyone was beginning to leave, John walked up to me, placed his hands on my cheeks, and forcefully turned my head to face him. Then looking me straight in the eye, he gave me a big smile. You see, John was concerned about me too. He wasn't able to talk but he knew how to break the sound barrier and tell me everything was alright. I later learned that people with autism experience sensory overload and sometimes can't effectively process auditory and visual signals simultaneously. That Sunday morning John had chosen to shut off the video to focus on the audio - my words.
My biggest frustration is my loss of the power of speech. I'm no longer able to talk - one on one - with the people I love the most. Even my wife can seldom understand what passes from my lips for words. So now I use exaggerated facial movements, hand signals, and body language to get my messages across. I can compose sentences with the voice synthesizer on my IPad, but communicating this way is agonizingly slow. And forget entirely about joining a conversation. By the time I have my responses ready to send, the moment is lost and the conversation has moved on.
I have only now lost my ability to speak. But John is 20 or so and has never spoken a complete sentence in his life. And unless a miracle happens he never will. When I'm angry and tempted to take out my frustrations on those I love, I'm going to try to remember the patience and grace that John showed me that Sunday morning.
Friday, September 16, 2016
When
you’re diagnosed with a fatal disease and told you probably have only about two
years to live, you suddenly have a lot of things to do in a short amount of
time. Adding to my " to do" list, several of my friends and family persistently
encouraged (nagged) me to put into words my “journey” with ALS. Until now I’ve
done a really good job of resisting them.
This isn’t a journey, ALS isn’t my sidekick in the passenger’s
seat, and it's not like touring West Texas to see all the cousins. It's more like the Griswolds’ family vacation nightmare
– but on steroids. Why expose myself at all? And why presume that this would matter all
that much to anyone else?
Shortly
after I announced that I had ALS, a dear friend gave me Tuesdays with Morrie. This
little book tells the story of the relationship between Morrie, the old teacher
dying from ALS, and Mitch, his former student and the book’s author. One of Morrie’s pearls of wisdom really hit
home, and it goes like this, “The truth is, Mitch, once you learn how
to die, you learn how to live… Most of us walk around as if we're sleepwalking.
We really don't experience the world fully because we're half asleep, doing
things we automatically think we have to do... Learn how to die, and you learn
how to live."
One thing that’s become crystal clear as I learn how to
live with ALS is that I want to make a difference in the lives of other
people with the time I have left. And
the idea of a blog made the most sense. After all, I can no longer speak and be
understood, but I can still write, and the written word, sometimes converted
into a computer-generated synthetic voice, is how I communicate.
This blog will be about how I live life now that I have ALS, how
I deal with the obstacles, how I sometimes fail, and how I sometimes succeed. Mostly, though, it will be
about how this experience is changing my perspectives and about how I hang on to my faith. Although I may not always pull it off, I’ll
try to be personal, open, and real. And I'll not be straying into the TMI zone. If you’re struggling too, which most of us
are for one reason or another, I hope my posts encourage you. That’s really why I’m doing this.
If you want, enter your email address at “Follow
by Email” to sign up for email notices of the blog postings. And feel free to tell others about this site.
Peace
P.S. To post a comment or see others' comments, click on the inconspicuous hyperlink at the bottom that says no comments, 1 comment, etc. Remember click the Publish button to ensure your comment is published.
P.S. To post a comment or see others' comments, click on the inconspicuous hyperlink at the bottom that says no comments, 1 comment, etc. Remember click the Publish button to ensure your comment is published.
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