As I watched the graphic novel turned movie, 300, a quote struck me. As King Leonidas wrestles with the decision to go and break the Greek law he swore to protect and honor, his wife, the queen, counters him with a powerful line: "It is not a question of what a Spartan citizen should do, or a husband, or a king. It's to ask yourself, dearest love... What should a free man do?" What should a free man do?
In reality, most of us can can't ask ourselves the question Leonidas' queen asks. Why? I am so glad you asked. You see, the majority of us, do not accept freedom. We love our bondage. Our bondage may be simple and petty, but in many cases it keeps us grounded. One's bondage could be something blatant like illegal drugs or murder. Or it could be something as innocent as the occasional slip of the tongue or mere self-righteousness. It could be an action we feel gives us the power to "stick it to the man" or a sheer act of unequivocal disobedience. It could be nothing more than gluttony or plain laziness. It may be unmentionable or down-right despicable. It could appear justified and valiant, but wrongly motivated all the same. But one typically does not have to dig deep to find their chains. I will say it again, most of us prefer them.
But why, I ask. What about our chains, our bondage is so inviting? Why do we find our defiance of freedom so tantalizing? Are we afraid of the rush we will find in freedom? Do we fear the unknown and the unpredictable to the point we will endure torture and shame? I warn you, friend... it is unneccessary. Take it from one who has tasted freedom. NO, I do not mean a free country, where you are bound by often times unseemingly senseless laws and even logical, necessary ones. I mean real freedom. Freedom from detestable self-bonding chains. Freedom that exhilirates the mind, the heart, and the spirit. Freedom that eliminates shame, guilt, and oh yeah security.
Believe it friends. The freedom I speak of is far from safe. It will cost you. How much you ask? Well probably everything but that's really nothing. Life is all any one has and the freedom of which I speak provides you with life in an overflowing, never-ending reservoir of life. But you have to ask yourself a real question... I am ready to truly live? I am ready to be totally free? I explicitly warn you not to accept an offer to life and freedom unless you are ready give up your bondage. Because, oh by the way, you will be asked to leave it at the check-in desk before you crossover.
If you are ready to live, then follow me. The preceeding line is not a call from AO. That prhase came from the mouth of Christ as he spoke to his disciples. That's what Christ said to me. That's what Christ says to you. Oh yeah, He's talking to you, kid! If you are ready to discover and explore and what a free man should do, then join me in the journey. The good news remains, we do not have to answer the quetion alone. I encourage you brothers and sisters alike, if you are ready to live or just desire to know more leave a comment, email me (brotherao@gmail.com), pull me aside, get my attention, just let me know. P.S. You have been warned.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Altered
My sister, Alana, weighs heavy on my heart. Her fight and just life in general have long served as an inspiration to me. Now, for those of you who are unaware, Alana is my younger sister. She suffers from Cystic Fibrosis and epilepsy. Before I jump in head first on this post, let provide you a bit of the back story.
Cystic Fibrosis is a inherited disease (both parents must be a carrier of the gene) that adversely affects the respiratory and digestive systems (more info on CF). With any disease it comes in varying degrees of of intensity. On a scale of 1-10 Alana probably ranged between a 7 and 8 (more towards 8). Definitely not the worst case, but suffered from a bad case nonetheless. She spent a majority of her life in a hospital, Le Bonheur Children's Hospital in Memphis, TN and then later at UAB in Birmingham, AL. She had a quick bout with epilepsy for about 2 years (1992-1994) and with proper medication, the seizures faded. She graduated high school and even won Homecoming queen. When she turned 18, she could no longer go to a receive treatment at a children's hospital and was in need of a double lung transplant anyway so that's where she shifted to UAB. Eighteen months they told us, and you will have two new lungs. Three years later, we were still waiting, hoping, grasping at straws. Time was not Alana's friend and the docs were running out of creative treatment options. We got several calls and none of them worked out. One little thing would be amiss. It wouldn't be a tissue match, the lungs weren't a good match, she had a fever, etc. Then it happened, I was on my way home from a two and half week trip in India, and my family got the call. It was a go. The procedure took way longer than expected thanks to Alana's concrete lungs (hardened mucus), but all in all the procedure was a success. In actuality, Alana recovered in record time. The docs set the expectation that you will be there for months and Alana was in and out within 5 weeks. UNHEARD OF, by the way. Yes, a little on the miraclous side. The next year would be prove to be glorious, she got married and got to live like the rest of us. Deep breaths, she could actually talk on the phone with out losing her breath. It was an awesome time. We watched her bloom and she just glowed.
The next part I don't even know how to express. The past year has been difficult to watch, even from a distance for me. Her seizures are back in full effect, she shakes to the point she can't write, eating is troublesome, and she is a prisoner in her home because she can't drive, the dephts of depression rest upon her. Alana is not my sister anymore. I don't know the altered spirit that now resides in her. My heart breaks for her. I so desperately want to be her BIG brother and save the day, but I am powerless. I want to yell, kick, and scream. I want to be the one whose sick, so she doesn't have to be. Let me bear the burden. I want to make things better for her. I want to make things better for her husband. I want to give her a life worth living, but how?
I recall something she said back when the doctors were explaining the possible outcomes that result from a double lung transplant and just a transplant in general. They painted a realistic picture. They said things like this could happen. But who knew. You want and expect the best and we got it for a year. I am scared to even post this, just because of its content. I don't know if I want people to read this. I will be upfront and honest, I don't want to read it, much less write it. Yes, I am questioning where God is in all of this. I would be a bold liar if I said I wasn't. But, the problem is I know where God is in all of it. He right smack in the middle of it. His purpose in my sister's life is bigger than my understanding. I will even go as far to say that He is altering the way I think and believe because of her. I know, as an American in some twisted way, I have become convinced health is a right, when in reality I know it is not.
Nonetheless, stuff like this gives you real perspective on living, not just life. Because here is the deal, there a lot of easy solutions for Alana. I don't have to spell them out for you or for her. She knows them and talks openly about them. But has said time and time again, I've come this far why give up now. How do you say that! I mean really HOW DO YOU SAY THAT!!!! My life has been easy compared to hers and I don't have the balls the say that. God knows that if he did give me her sickness and circumstances I would quit (I'm a wuss to the inth degree when it comes to sickness).
I mean I can't even compehrend a life of suffering, like she has known, and oh by the way, I lived it with her. I can't even imagine life the way she has had to bear it and yet she can say, why give up now. I want to give up for her. I want to say make it all go away God. Alana is the strongest person I know. Her will and her fight are like that of a lion. Life hears her roar and puts it's tail between it's legs. Alana Oliver-Mills is the real deal. Despite being captive to a incurable disease, she lives. Muhammod Ali eat your heart out. You may have flown like a butterfly and stung like a bee, but Alana has given life 24 solid rounds and continues to punch hard. I wonder, do I fight with the same kind of resiliency she has boldly demonstrated and continues to. Man, I owe a lot to my sister. She's taught me more about living than anybody I know. Thank you Alana for never giving up. Thank you Alana for fighting when throwing in the towel would have been so much more simple. Thank you Alana for giving me reason to keep on. Thank you Alana for teaching me what it means to be REAL! Thank you God, for blessing me with a sister who knows how to live. I am in your debt Alana. I love you. I am altered because of you (and for the better).
Cystic Fibrosis is a inherited disease (both parents must be a carrier of the gene) that adversely affects the respiratory and digestive systems (more info on CF). With any disease it comes in varying degrees of of intensity. On a scale of 1-10 Alana probably ranged between a 7 and 8 (more towards 8). Definitely not the worst case, but suffered from a bad case nonetheless. She spent a majority of her life in a hospital, Le Bonheur Children's Hospital in Memphis, TN and then later at UAB in Birmingham, AL. She had a quick bout with epilepsy for about 2 years (1992-1994) and with proper medication, the seizures faded. She graduated high school and even won Homecoming queen. When she turned 18, she could no longer go to a receive treatment at a children's hospital and was in need of a double lung transplant anyway so that's where she shifted to UAB. Eighteen months they told us, and you will have two new lungs. Three years later, we were still waiting, hoping, grasping at straws. Time was not Alana's friend and the docs were running out of creative treatment options. We got several calls and none of them worked out. One little thing would be amiss. It wouldn't be a tissue match, the lungs weren't a good match, she had a fever, etc. Then it happened, I was on my way home from a two and half week trip in India, and my family got the call. It was a go. The procedure took way longer than expected thanks to Alana's concrete lungs (hardened mucus), but all in all the procedure was a success. In actuality, Alana recovered in record time. The docs set the expectation that you will be there for months and Alana was in and out within 5 weeks. UNHEARD OF, by the way. Yes, a little on the miraclous side. The next year would be prove to be glorious, she got married and got to live like the rest of us. Deep breaths, she could actually talk on the phone with out losing her breath. It was an awesome time. We watched her bloom and she just glowed.
The next part I don't even know how to express. The past year has been difficult to watch, even from a distance for me. Her seizures are back in full effect, she shakes to the point she can't write, eating is troublesome, and she is a prisoner in her home because she can't drive, the dephts of depression rest upon her. Alana is not my sister anymore. I don't know the altered spirit that now resides in her. My heart breaks for her. I so desperately want to be her BIG brother and save the day, but I am powerless. I want to yell, kick, and scream. I want to be the one whose sick, so she doesn't have to be. Let me bear the burden. I want to make things better for her. I want to make things better for her husband. I want to give her a life worth living, but how?
I recall something she said back when the doctors were explaining the possible outcomes that result from a double lung transplant and just a transplant in general. They painted a realistic picture. They said things like this could happen. But who knew. You want and expect the best and we got it for a year. I am scared to even post this, just because of its content. I don't know if I want people to read this. I will be upfront and honest, I don't want to read it, much less write it. Yes, I am questioning where God is in all of this. I would be a bold liar if I said I wasn't. But, the problem is I know where God is in all of it. He right smack in the middle of it. His purpose in my sister's life is bigger than my understanding. I will even go as far to say that He is altering the way I think and believe because of her. I know, as an American in some twisted way, I have become convinced health is a right, when in reality I know it is not.
Nonetheless, stuff like this gives you real perspective on living, not just life. Because here is the deal, there a lot of easy solutions for Alana. I don't have to spell them out for you or for her. She knows them and talks openly about them. But has said time and time again, I've come this far why give up now. How do you say that! I mean really HOW DO YOU SAY THAT!!!! My life has been easy compared to hers and I don't have the balls the say that. God knows that if he did give me her sickness and circumstances I would quit (I'm a wuss to the inth degree when it comes to sickness).
I mean I can't even compehrend a life of suffering, like she has known, and oh by the way, I lived it with her. I can't even imagine life the way she has had to bear it and yet she can say, why give up now. I want to give up for her. I want to say make it all go away God. Alana is the strongest person I know. Her will and her fight are like that of a lion. Life hears her roar and puts it's tail between it's legs. Alana Oliver-Mills is the real deal. Despite being captive to a incurable disease, she lives. Muhammod Ali eat your heart out. You may have flown like a butterfly and stung like a bee, but Alana has given life 24 solid rounds and continues to punch hard. I wonder, do I fight with the same kind of resiliency she has boldly demonstrated and continues to. Man, I owe a lot to my sister. She's taught me more about living than anybody I know. Thank you Alana for never giving up. Thank you Alana for fighting when throwing in the towel would have been so much more simple. Thank you Alana for giving me reason to keep on. Thank you Alana for teaching me what it means to be REAL! Thank you God, for blessing me with a sister who knows how to live. I am in your debt Alana. I love you. I am altered because of you (and for the better).
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
In Between... Still
I heard a wise pastor once say, "Alan, as a pastor, you will preach a sermon that will morph into your life sermon." I questioned, "What do you mean?" He responded, "A life sermon will be one that forever serves as Yahweh's message to you. It will be the sermon that engulfs and informs your being, your mission, and your soul." Oh, ok.
On December 28, 2008, I preached a sermon entitled In Between. Well, it may not prove to be my life sermon, but it certainly serves as my "right now" sermon. You can listen to In Between by clicking here.
So, yeah I am in between... still. I will be transparent with you and confess: I am in between infuriating anger and astounding compassion. In between wanting to throw in the towel and fight to the death. In between cursing and blessing. In between a moment of strength and a moment of weakness. In between confusion and peace. In between frustration and simply not giving a rip. In between second guessing and confidence. Dude, I am straight up IN BETWEEN.
Understand this post serves more as a therapeutic exercise than as a simple post. I am processing out loud. Yahweh and I are having it out and anyone who chooses to read this simply has the benefit of listening in on an engaging, ongoing, real conversation between a weak, broken child and his loving Father.
Father, I greatly desire to be obedient. I realize life is a movement of "in betweens". Now matter how hard I try I will always be in between, but I pray that you will give me power and faith to go forward, cross between the walls of strife that seek to overcome me. Yes, I hear you, I must keep moving. I will move and I will watch you move just as you did that day when the Egyptians chased the Israelites. I will move and I will watch you move just as you did on the day you put your son, Jesus Christ, on a god-forsaken tree to be crucified and die in place of sinners like me. I will move and I will watch you move as you did on the day the stone was rolled away from the tomb to reveal HE LIVES! I will move and I will watch for the day you move again in the return of your Son. Marantha! This time is yours Father, just as it always has, always is, and always will be. Do with it what You will. Into Your hands I give my life, my love, my all. In Christ's name, AMEN.
On December 28, 2008, I preached a sermon entitled In Between. Well, it may not prove to be my life sermon, but it certainly serves as my "right now" sermon. You can listen to In Between by clicking here.
So, yeah I am in between... still. I will be transparent with you and confess: I am in between infuriating anger and astounding compassion. In between wanting to throw in the towel and fight to the death. In between cursing and blessing. In between a moment of strength and a moment of weakness. In between confusion and peace. In between frustration and simply not giving a rip. In between second guessing and confidence. Dude, I am straight up IN BETWEEN.
Understand this post serves more as a therapeutic exercise than as a simple post. I am processing out loud. Yahweh and I are having it out and anyone who chooses to read this simply has the benefit of listening in on an engaging, ongoing, real conversation between a weak, broken child and his loving Father.
Father, I greatly desire to be obedient. I realize life is a movement of "in betweens". Now matter how hard I try I will always be in between, but I pray that you will give me power and faith to go forward, cross between the walls of strife that seek to overcome me. Yes, I hear you, I must keep moving. I will move and I will watch you move just as you did that day when the Egyptians chased the Israelites. I will move and I will watch you move just as you did on the day you put your son, Jesus Christ, on a god-forsaken tree to be crucified and die in place of sinners like me. I will move and I will watch you move as you did on the day the stone was rolled away from the tomb to reveal HE LIVES! I will move and I will watch for the day you move again in the return of your Son. Marantha! This time is yours Father, just as it always has, always is, and always will be. Do with it what You will. Into Your hands I give my life, my love, my all. In Christ's name, AMEN.
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