FACING A MASSIVE TOUR HE WAS ILL-PREPARED FOR, A DESPERATE MICHAEL JACKSON REACHED OUT TO GOSPEL SUPERSTAR ANDRAE CROUCH AND HIS MINISTER SISTER SANDRA FOR SOLACE IN HIS LAST DAYS
Los Angeles, California, (Bully! Pulpit News)---Facing a grueling concert schedule, Michael Jackson, the self-proclaimed King of Pop reached out to two old friends-legendary Gospel singer Andrae Crouch and his twin sister, singer and minister, Sandra, desperately seeking inspiration for a tour he was ill-prepared for, a few weeks before his tragic death.
(details at Bully! Pulpit News)
Thursday
Where Life is real
Late Tuesday night, after lengthy conversation with Tom and Karin, each of us wrote a letter to my Dad, which Tom will give to Dad today as they discuss how to give my Mom the gift of release, of permission to turn her eyes homeward. Here is the letter I wrote.
- - - - - - - - - -
Dear Dad,
As Tom, Karin and I talked last night, we knew that you would need the support and agreement of all your kids, and since I cannot be there, I am writing to express my heart for you and Mom.
I look over my life with awe and amazement. You and Mom gave us a gift we can never repay, that we can only receive with thanks and seek to pass on to our own children. You loved each other, you loved us, and you loved God. You introduced us to our Lord and Savior.
When I left Davis on May 24, I felt sure that I would not see Mom’s face again until the blessed reunion of Heaven. In love, gratitude and trust, I released her into the tender care of God. Today, I became aware that this release, this entrustment to God, is a gift I need to give Mom. My desire is to communicate this message: “I love you, Mom; I trust in God and His care for you, just as you taught me to do; and I want you to know that if you cannot keep fighting for life and health, that I entrust you to God, and to His grace and mercy”.
Dad, these are surely the most challenging and demanding days you have ever faced. It is important that you know you do not face them alone – even in those moments of seeming isolation, you have the hearts of your three children, and the life partners we have chosen, along with the families God has entrusted to us. You have our enormous respect, undying admiration, and deep love, but not only ours – also of people around the world, who probably number in the thousands. And above all, you have Him who said “Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you”.
I am proud to be your son. I am proud to carry your name. I strive daily, and always will, to follow my Master as faithfully as you have modeled for me all of my life.
I love you Dad. May God’s grace, mercy and peace surround you now and always.
Alicia joins me in sending our love, prayer and support.
Your son,
Rick
- - - - - - - - - -
Here is Tom's report on how Wednesday went:
Today was a big day. It was yet another day in which it was apparent that God is going before us as we walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. The way things happened showed God's fingerprints all over it.
It started last night. I got home to find an e-mail from Dad, two e-mails from the URC social worker, and an e-mail from Rick. Over the past few days it has become increasingly clear that we were bearing down upon that day when we would reach a fork in the road that would require a decision. All of those e-mails addressed the need to make a decision from one perspective or another. So I arranged a conference call that included all of us kids and spouses. We talked at some length and all agreed that we had come to a point where we were ready to tell God that He could have her back, and ready to tell Mom that she had our permission to turn her eyes homeward. And so, as the one who is here, Karin & Rick gave me permission to speak for them to Dad & Mom, and each of us wrote a letter.
Today I awoke to another e-mail from Dad, and then a phone call saying that Dr. DaSilva wanted to talk to us. Nice timing since I had planned on Monday to come over again today to see Dad & Mom.
When I got to Dad & Mom's apartment, Dad immediately raised the subject of the e-mails and the decisions. The question of how to raise the subject vanished; Dad threw the door open wide. He raised the issues the doctor had that required a decision. So I recounted the phone conversation with Karin & Rick. Dad was as close to the same place as it is possible for him to be given that it is his wife.
We walked over to the skilled nursing facility, got Mom and went to a private room where we could talk. The doctor told Mom, and us, that her blood chemistry over the last few weeks has been deteriorating and has been a matter of concern to him. However, this morning's latest results were shocking to him. She showed clear and pronounced signs of malnutrition and dehydration. So, from a medical perspective, there is only one way to arrest this and that is to place a feeding tube; nasally at first, and then surgically. The only other alternative, continuing on as she has, will result in slipping into a coma, probably within a week, and then death would follow in three weeks or less as body systems break down.
I wasn't sure how well Mom was tracking this, so I moved around so I was directly in front of her, holding her hands, and I described her choices again, and then I asked her what she wanted to do. This time Mom really did seem to be tracking. So I turned to Dad and asked him if this would be a good time for me to tell Mom what Karin and Rick and I had spoken of the night before. Dad nodded yes.
So I gently, loving looked into her eyes and told her of our conversation; that we loved her so much, that we were so proud of her and the way that she had lived her life to serve her Lord and to serve us. But, I said, if you are to tired to fight any longer, if you are too weary to continue, we want you to know that you have our permission to turn your eyes toward your heavenly home. We are ready to let God have you back, and we want you to know that it is okay to go if you are ready.
I should say, this wasn't a monologue. Mom responded back and forth with me. Now reaching up with her hand to cradle my face, then smiling and saying "I love you". When I spoke again of the certainty of death if she didn't accept the feeding tube, she asked, "Does Keith (her brother, who visited last weekend) realize this?" I assured her that he does, that he did not expect her to return home. And then, after listening and thinking for a moment, Mom said, "Well, it's quicker than I thought it would be....but I am ready to go." It was the most amazing conversation I have ever been a part of.
The doctor accepted Mom's answer and turned and asked if we wanted him to call the hospice organization. We said, yes. Then he turned to Mom and said that if she changed her mind there was still a little time before it would be too late.
Then Dad & Mom and I went to lunch at the deli. Mom was very quiet, seemed lost in thought, didn't eat much. And after lunch Dad & I went back to the apartment to schedule a meeting with hospice for Friday morning.
It was a most amazing day.
At this point, according to the doctor, it looks like Mom may have three days to a week of awareness with significantly increasing tiredness. One day she will slip into a coma and not wake up. From that point the doctor said it could be anywhere from one day to a maximum of 21 days before death will occur. The doctor said it should be pretty painless, but hospice will be able to provide anything she may need for comfort.
The main prayer point for Mom seems to be for comfort in coming days. The main prayer points for Dad are for continued support and strength especially emotionally and spiritually. Although he continues to amaze me, still he is losing a beloved wife of 65 years. And though I have no doubt of his faith, this kind of loss cannot help but bring an attack at the very foundations of his faith.
Finally, thanks to all of you for walking through this with us.
Tom
- - - - - - - - - -
Dear Dad,
As Tom, Karin and I talked last night, we knew that you would need the support and agreement of all your kids, and since I cannot be there, I am writing to express my heart for you and Mom.
I look over my life with awe and amazement. You and Mom gave us a gift we can never repay, that we can only receive with thanks and seek to pass on to our own children. You loved each other, you loved us, and you loved God. You introduced us to our Lord and Savior.
When I left Davis on May 24, I felt sure that I would not see Mom’s face again until the blessed reunion of Heaven. In love, gratitude and trust, I released her into the tender care of God. Today, I became aware that this release, this entrustment to God, is a gift I need to give Mom. My desire is to communicate this message: “I love you, Mom; I trust in God and His care for you, just as you taught me to do; and I want you to know that if you cannot keep fighting for life and health, that I entrust you to God, and to His grace and mercy”.
Dad, these are surely the most challenging and demanding days you have ever faced. It is important that you know you do not face them alone – even in those moments of seeming isolation, you have the hearts of your three children, and the life partners we have chosen, along with the families God has entrusted to us. You have our enormous respect, undying admiration, and deep love, but not only ours – also of people around the world, who probably number in the thousands. And above all, you have Him who said “Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you”.
I am proud to be your son. I am proud to carry your name. I strive daily, and always will, to follow my Master as faithfully as you have modeled for me all of my life.
I love you Dad. May God’s grace, mercy and peace surround you now and always.
Alicia joins me in sending our love, prayer and support.
Your son,
Rick
- - - - - - - - - -
Here is Tom's report on how Wednesday went:
Today was a big day. It was yet another day in which it was apparent that God is going before us as we walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. The way things happened showed God's fingerprints all over it.
It started last night. I got home to find an e-mail from Dad, two e-mails from the URC social worker, and an e-mail from Rick. Over the past few days it has become increasingly clear that we were bearing down upon that day when we would reach a fork in the road that would require a decision. All of those e-mails addressed the need to make a decision from one perspective or another. So I arranged a conference call that included all of us kids and spouses. We talked at some length and all agreed that we had come to a point where we were ready to tell God that He could have her back, and ready to tell Mom that she had our permission to turn her eyes homeward. And so, as the one who is here, Karin & Rick gave me permission to speak for them to Dad & Mom, and each of us wrote a letter.
Today I awoke to another e-mail from Dad, and then a phone call saying that Dr. DaSilva wanted to talk to us. Nice timing since I had planned on Monday to come over again today to see Dad & Mom.
When I got to Dad & Mom's apartment, Dad immediately raised the subject of the e-mails and the decisions. The question of how to raise the subject vanished; Dad threw the door open wide. He raised the issues the doctor had that required a decision. So I recounted the phone conversation with Karin & Rick. Dad was as close to the same place as it is possible for him to be given that it is his wife.
We walked over to the skilled nursing facility, got Mom and went to a private room where we could talk. The doctor told Mom, and us, that her blood chemistry over the last few weeks has been deteriorating and has been a matter of concern to him. However, this morning's latest results were shocking to him. She showed clear and pronounced signs of malnutrition and dehydration. So, from a medical perspective, there is only one way to arrest this and that is to place a feeding tube; nasally at first, and then surgically. The only other alternative, continuing on as she has, will result in slipping into a coma, probably within a week, and then death would follow in three weeks or less as body systems break down.
I wasn't sure how well Mom was tracking this, so I moved around so I was directly in front of her, holding her hands, and I described her choices again, and then I asked her what she wanted to do. This time Mom really did seem to be tracking. So I turned to Dad and asked him if this would be a good time for me to tell Mom what Karin and Rick and I had spoken of the night before. Dad nodded yes.
So I gently, loving looked into her eyes and told her of our conversation; that we loved her so much, that we were so proud of her and the way that she had lived her life to serve her Lord and to serve us. But, I said, if you are to tired to fight any longer, if you are too weary to continue, we want you to know that you have our permission to turn your eyes toward your heavenly home. We are ready to let God have you back, and we want you to know that it is okay to go if you are ready.
I should say, this wasn't a monologue. Mom responded back and forth with me. Now reaching up with her hand to cradle my face, then smiling and saying "I love you". When I spoke again of the certainty of death if she didn't accept the feeding tube, she asked, "Does Keith (her brother, who visited last weekend) realize this?" I assured her that he does, that he did not expect her to return home. And then, after listening and thinking for a moment, Mom said, "Well, it's quicker than I thought it would be....but I am ready to go." It was the most amazing conversation I have ever been a part of.
The doctor accepted Mom's answer and turned and asked if we wanted him to call the hospice organization. We said, yes. Then he turned to Mom and said that if she changed her mind there was still a little time before it would be too late.
Then Dad & Mom and I went to lunch at the deli. Mom was very quiet, seemed lost in thought, didn't eat much. And after lunch Dad & I went back to the apartment to schedule a meeting with hospice for Friday morning.
It was a most amazing day.
At this point, according to the doctor, it looks like Mom may have three days to a week of awareness with significantly increasing tiredness. One day she will slip into a coma and not wake up. From that point the doctor said it could be anywhere from one day to a maximum of 21 days before death will occur. The doctor said it should be pretty painless, but hospice will be able to provide anything she may need for comfort.
The main prayer point for Mom seems to be for comfort in coming days. The main prayer points for Dad are for continued support and strength especially emotionally and spiritually. Although he continues to amaze me, still he is losing a beloved wife of 65 years. And though I have no doubt of his faith, this kind of loss cannot help but bring an attack at the very foundations of his faith.
Finally, thanks to all of you for walking through this with us.
Tom
Monday
How I got here
Sometimes I think about how I wound up where I am, in the very satisfying role I presently occupy on the ministry staff of a large Lutheran Church. Me, the pastor who was ordained in The Evangelical Covenant Church and never expected to minister outside of that body. On the staff of a Lutheran Church and loving the church, the co-workers, and the people as much as I have loved any church in my life.
Fall, 2000. My disappointment was huge. I had come to a new church only 2 years previously and was certain that good things lay ahead. But several factors had caused me to admit that I had stepped into a dysfunctional climate that I would be unable to successfully lead as pastor. It had become obvious that the final good act of leadership, the last loving gift I could give to that church, was the hope that in my departure, they would find what they needed in order to turn a corner and move towards God's vision for their future. On my last Sunday, I concluded by saying,
"Just a word about what lies before us:
"Next Sunday I will not be here, because my family and I will be participating in the JDRF Walk to Cure Diabetes.
"Starting the week after that, I will be...
"...on special assignment.
"I don't know yet what that means, but I have faith that God knows, and will guide me in each step."
The truth of the matter is, I was not sure that what I had could be called faith. Hope might be a better word. I hoped my faith would be restored. But my life was a mass of uncertainty and confusion.
I remember saying to Alicia, "You know how I've taken one vacation Sunday in each of the past couple years, not to go on vacation, but just to visit area churches to see what else God was doing? Now we can do that all the time; we can visit a different church every Sunday!"
Alicia's response was wise beyond all telling. "You can do that if you want, and that's OK if you do. But the kids and I need a church...one church. And ElenaClaire and I have been thinking about Christ the King".
We had visited CTK the previous summer on the 4th of July weekend, at the invitation of our friend Catherine, whom we knew because of our shared journey as parents of diabetic sons. We had all enjoyed it and had noticed how much it resembled the healthiest of Covenant Churches.
I admitted to Alicia that I probably needed a church too - that wandering from church to church wasn't much of an idea. We made plans to attend CTK the next Sunday.
But I was still angry, hurting, wounded, and not a little distrustful. I told Alicia that I wanted no one to know of my career background - that I was a pastor without a church. I felt like a failure. I was diving into how I felt.
I quit shaving on Wednesday. I got up Sunday morning and pulled on a dirty black turtleneck and a pair of dirty jeans with holes in the knees. We went to church and I wanted to sit near the front.
I was a walking invitation to someone, anyone, to reject me. And when they did, I would walk away feeling justified in concluding that church wasn't part of my life any more.
But I remember sitting there, believing against all odds that there was a God who loved me, even though I was not feeling that love. Knowing I needed to feel His love, hear His voice, taste His forgiveness and grace.
Yet all the while thinking to myself, "What am I doing here? This isn't my church, these are not people I know, I'm not a Lutheran. What am I doing here?"
Then the service began. And the Lutheran Worship leader had selected among his choices for the day's songs, a Covenant song. A song by a writer from my tiny little denomination, a church body all but unknown to most of the world. But known by God, who had directed Mark to select Bob Stromberg's "As the East is from the west".
I thought about that song, which I first encountered after it had been used at a Covenant youth gathering called CHIC. I thought about Bob, whom I had met casually through a friend named Marlene - and how we'd hosted him for dessert one night when he'd been in Lansing. I felt connected to my family of faith.
And I heard something else in my heart - the voice of God saying "This song is here for you. That leader up there doesn't know Bob's Covenant roots or yours. But I do. And I led him to this song for you. Don't worry, you are where you are supposed to be." And I felt peace.
We planned to attend again the following Sunday. But my doubt and my pain had overtaken me by Tuesday.
I quit shaving on Wednesday. I got up Sunday morning and pulled on a dirty black turtleneck and a pair of dirty jeans with holes in the knees... again. We went to church and I wanted to sit near the front.
I was, again, a walking invitation to someone, anyone, to reject me. And when they did, I would walk away feeling justified in concluding that church wasn't part of my life any more.
But I remember sitting there, again, believing against all odds that there was a God who loved me, even though I was not feeling that love. Knowing I needed to feel His love, hear His voice, taste His forgiveness and grace.
Yet all the while thinking to myself again, "What am I doing here? This isn't my church, these are not people I know, I'm not a Lutheran. What am I doing here?"
Then the service began. And the Lutheran Worship leader had again selected among his choices for the day's songs, a Covenant song. A song by a writer from my tiny little denomination, a church body all but unknown to most of the world. But known by God, who had directed Mark to select Lina Sandell's "Children of the Heavenly Father".
I thought about that song with roots that reach deeply back to my childhood. I thought about Lina, who is honored in statuary on the campus of the seminary I attended in Chicago. I felt connected to my family of faith.
And I heard something else in my heart - again - the voice of God saying "This song is here for you. That leader up there doesn't know Lina's Covenant roots or yours. But I do. And I led him to this song for you. Don't worry, you are where you are supposed to be."
And one more thing. I sensed that God said something else as well. "Rick, do I have to do this every week? Or can we settle this right now, between the two of us? You are where you are supposed to be. Be at peace. Stay here until I tell you otherwise."
And I felt peace.
At the time, I imagined that CTK would be my temporary home, my lifeboat until God opened the door to return to my Covenant home. I never remotely anticipated that I would be invited to join the ministry staff and would still be there nearly 9 years later.
I've wrestled over and over with God about this. I've watched for possibilities of returning to The Covenant. I still do. But in the meantime, I remember what I sensed God saying to me: "Be at peace. Stay here until I tell you otherwise."
Father's Day, 2009. I had the privilege of conducting the Men's Choir in worship at all three services. It was very well-received, and many kind words were spoken. But one remark stands out. One of my closest friends, who knows more intimately than almost anyone my wrestlings, placed an arm around my shoulder and said "Never doubt that you are where you are supposed to be".
Fall, 2000. My disappointment was huge. I had come to a new church only 2 years previously and was certain that good things lay ahead. But several factors had caused me to admit that I had stepped into a dysfunctional climate that I would be unable to successfully lead as pastor. It had become obvious that the final good act of leadership, the last loving gift I could give to that church, was the hope that in my departure, they would find what they needed in order to turn a corner and move towards God's vision for their future. On my last Sunday, I concluded by saying,
"Just a word about what lies before us:
"Next Sunday I will not be here, because my family and I will be participating in the JDRF Walk to Cure Diabetes.
"Starting the week after that, I will be...
"...on special assignment.
"I don't know yet what that means, but I have faith that God knows, and will guide me in each step."
The truth of the matter is, I was not sure that what I had could be called faith. Hope might be a better word. I hoped my faith would be restored. But my life was a mass of uncertainty and confusion.
I remember saying to Alicia, "You know how I've taken one vacation Sunday in each of the past couple years, not to go on vacation, but just to visit area churches to see what else God was doing? Now we can do that all the time; we can visit a different church every Sunday!"
Alicia's response was wise beyond all telling. "You can do that if you want, and that's OK if you do. But the kids and I need a church...one church. And ElenaClaire and I have been thinking about Christ the King".
We had visited CTK the previous summer on the 4th of July weekend, at the invitation of our friend Catherine, whom we knew because of our shared journey as parents of diabetic sons. We had all enjoyed it and had noticed how much it resembled the healthiest of Covenant Churches.
I admitted to Alicia that I probably needed a church too - that wandering from church to church wasn't much of an idea. We made plans to attend CTK the next Sunday.
But I was still angry, hurting, wounded, and not a little distrustful. I told Alicia that I wanted no one to know of my career background - that I was a pastor without a church. I felt like a failure. I was diving into how I felt.
I quit shaving on Wednesday. I got up Sunday morning and pulled on a dirty black turtleneck and a pair of dirty jeans with holes in the knees. We went to church and I wanted to sit near the front.
I was a walking invitation to someone, anyone, to reject me. And when they did, I would walk away feeling justified in concluding that church wasn't part of my life any more.
But I remember sitting there, believing against all odds that there was a God who loved me, even though I was not feeling that love. Knowing I needed to feel His love, hear His voice, taste His forgiveness and grace.
Yet all the while thinking to myself, "What am I doing here? This isn't my church, these are not people I know, I'm not a Lutheran. What am I doing here?"
Then the service began. And the Lutheran Worship leader had selected among his choices for the day's songs, a Covenant song. A song by a writer from my tiny little denomination, a church body all but unknown to most of the world. But known by God, who had directed Mark to select Bob Stromberg's "As the East is from the west".
"As the east is from the west, so far has He removed
our transgressions
from us, Alleluia
Mercy high as the sky, reaching deep as the sea..."
I thought about that song, which I first encountered after it had been used at a Covenant youth gathering called CHIC. I thought about Bob, whom I had met casually through a friend named Marlene - and how we'd hosted him for dessert one night when he'd been in Lansing. I felt connected to my family of faith.
And I heard something else in my heart - the voice of God saying "This song is here for you. That leader up there doesn't know Bob's Covenant roots or yours. But I do. And I led him to this song for you. Don't worry, you are where you are supposed to be." And I felt peace.
We planned to attend again the following Sunday. But my doubt and my pain had overtaken me by Tuesday.
I quit shaving on Wednesday. I got up Sunday morning and pulled on a dirty black turtleneck and a pair of dirty jeans with holes in the knees... again. We went to church and I wanted to sit near the front.
I was, again, a walking invitation to someone, anyone, to reject me. And when they did, I would walk away feeling justified in concluding that church wasn't part of my life any more.
But I remember sitting there, again, believing against all odds that there was a God who loved me, even though I was not feeling that love. Knowing I needed to feel His love, hear His voice, taste His forgiveness and grace.
Yet all the while thinking to myself again, "What am I doing here? This isn't my church, these are not people I know, I'm not a Lutheran. What am I doing here?"
Then the service began. And the Lutheran Worship leader had again selected among his choices for the day's songs, a Covenant song. A song by a writer from my tiny little denomination, a church body all but unknown to most of the world. But known by God, who had directed Mark to select Lina Sandell's "Children of the Heavenly Father".
"Children of the Heavenly Father, safely in His bosom gather,
nestling bird nor star in Heaven such a refuge e'er was given.
"God His own doth tend and noursih, in His holy courts they flourish,
from all evil things He spares them, in His mighty arms he bears them..."
I thought about that song with roots that reach deeply back to my childhood. I thought about Lina, who is honored in statuary on the campus of the seminary I attended in Chicago. I felt connected to my family of faith.
And I heard something else in my heart - again - the voice of God saying "This song is here for you. That leader up there doesn't know Lina's Covenant roots or yours. But I do. And I led him to this song for you. Don't worry, you are where you are supposed to be."
And one more thing. I sensed that God said something else as well. "Rick, do I have to do this every week? Or can we settle this right now, between the two of us? You are where you are supposed to be. Be at peace. Stay here until I tell you otherwise."
And I felt peace.
At the time, I imagined that CTK would be my temporary home, my lifeboat until God opened the door to return to my Covenant home. I never remotely anticipated that I would be invited to join the ministry staff and would still be there nearly 9 years later.
I've wrestled over and over with God about this. I've watched for possibilities of returning to The Covenant. I still do. But in the meantime, I remember what I sensed God saying to me: "Be at peace. Stay here until I tell you otherwise."
Father's Day, 2009. I had the privilege of conducting the Men's Choir in worship at all three services. It was very well-received, and many kind words were spoken. But one remark stands out. One of my closest friends, who knows more intimately than almost anyone my wrestlings, placed an arm around my shoulder and said "Never doubt that you are where you are supposed to be".
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)