Rouge River Community Church

Friday, January 30, 2009

Soul-bleeding

In my late teens and early twenties, I was a lifeguard and swimming instructor. One winter I was working at the indoor pool in my hometown. This particular shift I was lifeguarding a public swim. Some boys, all about ten or eleven years old, were doing tricks off the diving board.

One boy would do cannon-ball, the next would do a front a flip, the boy after that a back dive. They were obviously accomplished divers, and their tricks were fun to watch! Then one boy came to the end of the diving board, turned his back to the water, and proceeded to attempt a back flip. The take-off looked good. He had lots of height, but his distance from the board was off. He went straight up, did most of the flip, and on the way down, struck the diving board with his chest and face, then fell like a rag doll into the water.

I immediately signalled to the other lifeguard on duty that there was an emergency situation. As procedures in dealing with head, neck and spine injuries went through my mind, I waited the second or two for the bubbles to clear. I fully expected to find an unconscious boy in the water. That didn't happen.

I was shocked to see the boy swim to the side of the pool and climb the ladder out of the water. I met him there at the ladder. As I made eye contact with him, I saw him smile. Before I could say a word, he told me something to the effect, "Ouch. That really hurt!" He had friction burns on his chin, his chest and stomach. For such a spectacular accident, the boy didn't look too bad. There was a little bit of blood, but just from a few scrapes.

As I started to keep the boy from moving, wanting to assess his injuries, he looked down at his chest for the first time. That's when he saw the blood. His own blood. He turned white, his eyes rolled back into his head, and his knees buckled. He fainted! Smashing into the diving board- that he could brush off. Seeing a little bit of blood from a few scrapes- that finished him off.

Of course, the other lifeguard and I took care of him. We immobilized his neck and spine, called an ambulance and began to treat his wounds. At the time we weren't sure if he fell unconscious as a delayed reaction to hitting the diving board. It turned out he would be fine. No apparent head, neck or spine injuries, just a few bruises and scrapes. Whew!

What I think about now, looking back on the event years later, is for that boy, the injury wasn't the worst part of what happened, the evidence of the injury was.

What painful event in your past smacked you in the head and knocked the wind out of you? What was more difficult? The injury itself, or how you reacted physically, emotionally, spiritually after the fact? God provides a source of healing to our troubled pasts in the person of Jesus. He also provides ongoing treatment for the soul-bleeding that comes after the pain, through His Spirit and His Church. You've felt the blow to your soul, and you're still standing. What happens when you start to bleed? What is your action plan?

Peace

Posted By Andre Lauzon At 12:59 PM • Comments (0) Trackbacks (0)

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Snow

As I look out my office window, it is snowing again. The forecast is for another 20 cm or so by this evening. Snow. When I lived in Saskatchewan during my ministry training days, I was introduced to a whole new side of winter- cold. I had experienced a few frigid days growing up in eastern Ontario, but I encountered a new level of cold in southern Saskatchewan. The wind, that always blew, would make the minus 30 or 40 degree weather seem like minus 50 or 60!

I remember one particular winter wind storm that blew in that caused the school to close for the day. A call went out to all the dorms, telling us to stay indoors because of the snow and blowing wind. It was so thick outside, you could not see your hand in front of your face!

Everyone in the dorm got together and compared what food stock we had in our rooms. Boxes of macaroni and cheese, instant noodles, and bags of chips appeared. As we took inventory, we realized that the only thing we were missing was cold drinks. Our dorm did not have a 'pop' machine, but the dorm next door did. We made a plan!

Being the responsible young adults that we were, we developed a way for someone from our dorm to make his way next door to get us all drinks from the machine. Plan A was simple- we elected one of the prairie guys- someone who had grown up in the region and knew how deal with storms like this- to dash the 60 feet to the next dorm. We dressed him up in the warmest winter clothes we had, gave him all the change we could find, and pushed him out the back door. Five minutes went by. Ten minutes passed, and still no drinks. Oh! And no sight of our friend, either. Then came a thumping at the front door, which was frozen shut. We managed to bang it open revealing our drink courier. As he crawled in the now open door, out of breath and snow covered, we asked him the important question, "Where are the drinks?".

He told us a grim story. The wind blew him off course and he couldn't find the dorm. It was only 60 feet away! He crawled around for a while until he bumped into a building, so he felt his way along it, hoping to eventually get to a door that would let him in. That building was our dorm. The storm was so bad, so blinding, that he lost his way in just a few steps. OK! Plan B!

Since he was already dressed and had all of our change, we elected to send the same guy again. This time, however, we tied all our bed sheets together, with one end tied around his waist, with us holding on to the other. We gave him a bigger shove out the back door and off he went! We had worked out a series of signals based on tugs on the sheet-rope. One tug when he got to the other dorm. Two tugs when he was coming back. No tugs for a long time, and we were to pull his lifeless body back into the dorm.

Fortunately, everything went well the second time around, and our courier soon returned with plenty of drinks for everyone. We survived the storm, ate pretty well, and I grew to have a new respect for the power of nature. It wasn't until much later that I realized the God aspect to the what happened. Even though everyone in the dorm worked together to overcome an obstacle, drawing upon our experiences and resources in the process, a power greater than ourselves was always in control. Sounds a lot like real life to me.

Peace.

Posted By Andre Lauzon At 12:01 PM • Comments (2) Trackbacks (0)

Friday, January 23, 2009

Walking

My mother was a walker. She walked everywhere. She walked to work, she walked to get groceries, she walked to pay bills and go to the bank. She walked a lot. Part of it was probably that we didn't have a car, and even the bus was expensive for a single mom raising three kids. So, she walked.

One thing all that walking will do for a person is make them good at it. My mom was good at it. For the first six years of my school life, I walked with my mother to her work. We would walk to her office and then I would continue on the next 2 or 3 blocks to my school. My mom could walk fast! It was always a struggle for my little grade 1 or 2 legs to cover enough ground to keep up with her. One year, she won a trip to Florida- all expenses paid. That was my very first (and only) vacation growing up. Even though by that time I was in grade 7, and taller than she was, I still had trouble keeping up with her. My mother passed away a few years ago yet her proficiency in walking is still family legend.

On my wedding day, I was walking with my mom through the park where the wedding pictures were being staged. It was the first time my mother ever asked me to slow down. I just thought it was because she was in heels, or because my excitement caused me to walk faster than usual. But other times would soon follow. At the mall. Going to an appointment. In the hospital.

My mother died from cancer almost three years ago. On my last 'good' day with her before she passed away, we took a drive on a familiar route through the country; a trip she especially enjoyed. When we stopped by a small river, under a big old willow tree (I took the picture you see that day), she wasn't able to walk down to the water's edge. She was too weak to walk that far. I still tear up when I think of it.

Sometime ago I was walking home with my oldest son. He asked me to slow down because I was going too fast. As I slowed down, I told him that in a few years, I'll be asking him the same thing. He didn't really understand what I meant, but someday he will.

It's not so much that our speeds don't match that matters. It's that we are walking in the same direction together.

Peace.

Posted By Andre Lauzon At 11:44 AM • Comments (0) Trackbacks (0)

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Heaven

I studied for ministry at a college in southern Saskatchewan. Three of my four years there, I was the trainer for the men's hockey team. One winter, my school hosted a prairies Bible College tournament. Teams came from Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba.

In our opening game, we played a French Catholic school from Winnipeg. Shortly after the start of the game, one of their players went down after a clean hit from one of our guys. Within a few minutes the Winnipeg team's trainer was able to get that player off the ice and into the dressing room. A few minutes later, another player on the Winnipeg team got crunched by one of our guys right at the end of his bench, where the glass starts. He really got his bell rung!

Since the other team's trainer was in the dressing room with the first injured player, I hopped over the boards to lend assistance. When I got to him, the injured player was on his back, staring up at nothing in particular and having a conversation with no one in particular, in French. After doing a quick head, neck and back check, I started asking him some questions. In my best French (which isn't very good), I asked him his name. He told me a name, and a quick look at his coach who was on the ice with me indicated that it was the right name. I asked him how old he was. Two for two, he was right again. Then I asked him the hard question, "Do you know where you are?" He answered, "Ciel." Heaven. Oh boy, this guy got hit harder than I thought!

We eventually got him safely to the dressing room, and started getting him ready to go to the hospital. As we were helping him out of his equipment, I asked him the three questions again. Name? Got it. Age? Right on. Where are you? Ciel! Heaven. Ouch. Now I was worried.

As we got him dressed into his street clothes, and were helping him to the vehicle that would take him to the hospital, I asked him the questions one last time, hoping his mind was clearing up. Name? Right again. Age? No mistake there. Where are you? Ciel! Heaven. Apart from that last answer, he seemed to be really coming around, so I asked him one more question, "Why do you keep saying you're in heaven?" He answered, "You're talking to me in French, so I know I can't be in Saskatchewan any more."

Sometimes, the obvious escapes us.

Peace.

Posted By Andre Lauzon At 9:38 AM • Comments (0) Trackbacks (0)

Friday, January 09, 2009

Do Over

"...we have stopped evaluating others from a human point of view. At one time we thought of Christ merely from a human point of view.
How differently we know him now! This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person.
The old life is gone; a new life has begun!"
-2 Corinthians 5:16-17

I need a do over. A restart. A chance to do something again. If you could travel back in time and change something about your life, what would it be? Would you not do something? Or maybe do something you regretted not doing the first time. Different job? Different spouse (ouch)? Different location? Would you travel more? Work less?

I have lots of regrets as I look back over my 40 years of life:
    -A party I should have skipped
    -A relationship I should have avoided
    -Opportunities I should have grabbed.
    -Situations where I should have said something (or not said anything at all).

Sometimes these regrets threaten to overwhelm me, so I either run away from them emotionally, of get sad and bitter. I find the past, especially my mistakes, is like carrying around a backpack full of heavy rocks. The weight gets too much for me sometimes, but I don't lay my burden down. I just collapse for a while. That is no way to live.

The verse above, written by the apostle (sent one) Paul, is communicated to a Greek church that is having social problems. There are many cliques in the church, and they are increasingly treating each other badly. They are regarding each other, and each other's pasts from a worldly point of view. Paul encourages them to regard each other and themselves from a spiritual perspective.

There is something transformational about believing in Jesus. It is as though followers of Jesus have a new insight into life. Before I come across as promising more than following Jesus delivers, let me assure you that becoming a Christian does not guarantee perfection. It means, though, that we have a different perspective on our mistakes.

My mistakes are a part of who am I. They have helped shaped me, for better or for worse, into the person I am. Ever notice in those time travel stories, people are always unhappier after they change the past? There is something to that. The challenge is to recognize that fact, accept it, but not let the past have control over the present in a negative way. That is hard for me.

What I have learned, again through mistakes, is that I need to talk through with God those moments in my past that still have a lot of weight. I am not talking about God as psychotherapist. I am talking about God the healer, the lover of my soul, who can help me gain perspective on my past mistakes, and relieve their crushing weight. I have found when I reflect on a regret, I feel strong emotions related to it. If I run away from it, the emotions will still be there next time I remember the mistake. If I let the tape play in my mind, talking it over with God along the way, the pain lessens. Doing this a few times, confessing and forgiving as appropriate, allows me to work through the heat of the emotion, leaving me with new insight into myself and God. It really is a spiritual discipline.

So next time you feel like George Bailey from "It's a wonderful Life", instead of looking for a bridge to jump from, have a talk with the one who loves you the most- God.

Posted By Andre Lauzon At 10:16 AM • Comments (740) Trackbacks (0)

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