75 Wedding
Originally uploaded by tynemann
Picture of my mom and dad getting married.
10.15.2008
The Cost
I apologize for the inconsistency with these two posts. I felt I wanted to share what's been happening the past week.
(Written in Oradea Romania Oct. 08 2008)
3 weddings. 4 birthdays. 1 Anniversary. Easter. Thanksgiving. If I had a giant scale and I asked you to put things on one-side that you feel you’d never want to loose what would you put there? Would family be first? Material possessions? Accomplishments? A job? What would go on the other side that would balance or tip the scale so that these things were less important than the other side? What could you put on one side of the giant scale that would balance out your job? Your house? Your family? Is there anything?
Being on the field a lot during the year there are things that you miss. There are events and functions and yearly traditions that you’re not able to be a part of. Before you start thinking I’m complaining or bragging about what I give up each year, I’m not. I look at myself and see that there are people who’ve given or lost more than I may ever be asked. There are young people in India and Indonesia today working with Book of Hope teams and other evangelism projects who literally may loose their lives because of what they believe in.
In March I had the chance to visit some of these National workers who’ve chosen to make a commitment to seeing that children and youth are reached with God’s message of love and salvation. It was difficult to stand there among them as I realized that these are the true missionaries. These are the true heroes and giants of our faith. And they were young. Some of the members on the teams were 17-19 years old. Many of the team members had come from Hindu families. Some of the girls were being told to return home as they had been promised in marriage to a son of their father’s prospective business partner. Yet here they were. Carrying loads of books, film equipment and flyers. Here they stayed in small one-room houses under the church they were faithfully ministering with. Here they prayed, for the strength to continue in the work that God had brought them to. And there I stood very humbly listening to their stories.
In Luke 14:25-27 Jesus speaks words that can be read very harshly. We read words that we want to excuse or try to explain away.
v.26… If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters- yes even his own life- he cannot be my disciple…
I wonder how differently our field staff in India, Indonesia and other parts of the world would explain these verses. How have they taken the message of these verses and integrated them so they live them out everyday?
I read them and they shock me. To hear Jesus say we must hate our families and our own lives? What did that mean then? What does that mean now?
I can’t say that I have any answers. What I’m learning though is that nothing should tip that giant scale in our pursuit of - and our relationship with - Christ. No matter how much we load the other side with responsibilities, careers, music, possessions, family; nothing should ever tip so the scale so that something else is first priority in our lives. There are heroes in parts of India who have measured and found that there is nothing more important than this.
So the cost? This year it was some very special weddings, a brother’s three-year anniversary, moms and all my brothers birthdays. Easter was celebrated in Romania distributing the Book of Hope. My birthday was in Ukraine assessing national programs. Fourth of July was England distributing the Book of Hope. Thanksgiving I’m not sure about yet and Christmas might be celebrated a little late.
I started thinking about all this the other day when I got a really strange email from home. My mom had been in contact with my grandmother who said my father was in the hospital. Some kind of problem after a surgery he had.
I’ve never really had a close relationship with him. I’ve only met him twice in my life that I remember. I learned a lot from him during one of those visits. I learned that he’s the one who missed out on my brother and I growing up. I learned that he’ll never have a second chance to fix things, he’s the one who missed out on my first day of school. I guess you can turn that around and ask me whether I’ve ever made a move to amend anything.
On Tuesday Oct. 7th in an email my mom says they are going to unplug him. Six hours after that, Marvin Eugene Moran, the man I never knew as a father had died.
I sat there and just stared at the email. Part shock, part acceptance and part confusion. The next few days were a little blurry. I wrote a lot during that time. I kept most of it to myself and didn’t say anything about what had happened.
A lot of things go through your mind. A lot of emotions and a lot of thoughts and decisions. None too formulated or processed. You don’t really experience one thing or another, just lots of thoughts all floating around. I question whether I should go home. I question what I should say or think or should I cry or what?
There was no funeral for him. No one there to really mourn his death. So add one more event that I’ll miss this year. Add one more thing to the scale.
As I search for answers and come up with more questions, one thing becomes very clear, my heavenly Father is still there. He still sees and cares and feels and knows my heart more than anyone else.
It seems that the cost this year has been a little higher than I may have planned or expected, but the scale doesn’t tip.
thanks for reading
matt
(Written in Oradea Romania Oct. 08 2008)
3 weddings. 4 birthdays. 1 Anniversary. Easter. Thanksgiving. If I had a giant scale and I asked you to put things on one-side that you feel you’d never want to loose what would you put there? Would family be first? Material possessions? Accomplishments? A job? What would go on the other side that would balance or tip the scale so that these things were less important than the other side? What could you put on one side of the giant scale that would balance out your job? Your house? Your family? Is there anything?
Being on the field a lot during the year there are things that you miss. There are events and functions and yearly traditions that you’re not able to be a part of. Before you start thinking I’m complaining or bragging about what I give up each year, I’m not. I look at myself and see that there are people who’ve given or lost more than I may ever be asked. There are young people in India and Indonesia today working with Book of Hope teams and other evangelism projects who literally may loose their lives because of what they believe in.
In March I had the chance to visit some of these National workers who’ve chosen to make a commitment to seeing that children and youth are reached with God’s message of love and salvation. It was difficult to stand there among them as I realized that these are the true missionaries. These are the true heroes and giants of our faith. And they were young. Some of the members on the teams were 17-19 years old. Many of the team members had come from Hindu families. Some of the girls were being told to return home as they had been promised in marriage to a son of their father’s prospective business partner. Yet here they were. Carrying loads of books, film equipment and flyers. Here they stayed in small one-room houses under the church they were faithfully ministering with. Here they prayed, for the strength to continue in the work that God had brought them to. And there I stood very humbly listening to their stories.
In Luke 14:25-27 Jesus speaks words that can be read very harshly. We read words that we want to excuse or try to explain away.
v.26… If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters- yes even his own life- he cannot be my disciple…
I wonder how differently our field staff in India, Indonesia and other parts of the world would explain these verses. How have they taken the message of these verses and integrated them so they live them out everyday?
I read them and they shock me. To hear Jesus say we must hate our families and our own lives? What did that mean then? What does that mean now?
I can’t say that I have any answers. What I’m learning though is that nothing should tip that giant scale in our pursuit of - and our relationship with - Christ. No matter how much we load the other side with responsibilities, careers, music, possessions, family; nothing should ever tip so the scale so that something else is first priority in our lives. There are heroes in parts of India who have measured and found that there is nothing more important than this.
So the cost? This year it was some very special weddings, a brother’s three-year anniversary, moms and all my brothers birthdays. Easter was celebrated in Romania distributing the Book of Hope. My birthday was in Ukraine assessing national programs. Fourth of July was England distributing the Book of Hope. Thanksgiving I’m not sure about yet and Christmas might be celebrated a little late.
I started thinking about all this the other day when I got a really strange email from home. My mom had been in contact with my grandmother who said my father was in the hospital. Some kind of problem after a surgery he had.
I’ve never really had a close relationship with him. I’ve only met him twice in my life that I remember. I learned a lot from him during one of those visits. I learned that he’s the one who missed out on my brother and I growing up. I learned that he’ll never have a second chance to fix things, he’s the one who missed out on my first day of school. I guess you can turn that around and ask me whether I’ve ever made a move to amend anything.
On Tuesday Oct. 7th in an email my mom says they are going to unplug him. Six hours after that, Marvin Eugene Moran, the man I never knew as a father had died.
I sat there and just stared at the email. Part shock, part acceptance and part confusion. The next few days were a little blurry. I wrote a lot during that time. I kept most of it to myself and didn’t say anything about what had happened.
A lot of things go through your mind. A lot of emotions and a lot of thoughts and decisions. None too formulated or processed. You don’t really experience one thing or another, just lots of thoughts all floating around. I question whether I should go home. I question what I should say or think or should I cry or what?
There was no funeral for him. No one there to really mourn his death. So add one more event that I’ll miss this year. Add one more thing to the scale.
As I search for answers and come up with more questions, one thing becomes very clear, my heavenly Father is still there. He still sees and cares and feels and knows my heart more than anyone else.
It seems that the cost this year has been a little higher than I may have planned or expected, but the scale doesn’t tip.
thanks for reading
matt
Fixing Errors
(written in Oradea Romania- Oct. 11th 2008)
I suppose I should just write and keep writing almost without using the backspace except to fix spelling errors. Cause those bother me.
My father is gone. It’s a weird thing. A strange thing to think that the life that brought me into the world has breathed it’s last and has stopped existing.
There’s all these things you feel and think. All these unsaid emotions and feelings and thoughts and regrets. All these things I wish I could’ve said before he died. I wish I could’ve told him that I wasn’t angry at him. I wasn’t upset or mad about the things he did. I know I’d told him before, years ago that I wasn’t upset or anything but I wish I could have two days. Or even two hours just to say what I feel. To say all these things that I’ll live with for the rest of my life. I want to see where he’s buried, but I don’t even know what that will be like I don’t know if it’s just a plaque or a sign on a wall. I need to see something. I’m afraid though of seeing all these things. But I have to.
I wish I had two hours. To find out where he was born and what he wanted to do with his life. To find out where he went to school and who his friends were and what happened to the motorcycle. Two hours to listen and see and apologize for not being more involved in his life.
I wish I would have gone to see him. To see where he lived and what he did. To maybe give him a little light and hope to continue living. In the end my father just wanted to die. He wanted to leave this world. He wanted to stop breathing and be done with everything. His body was tired and exhausted. He had no desire. No drive. Nothing to live for.
And I’m surprisingly ok. For the most part. One minute I’m totally fine. The next minute I’m crying. Then I’m questioning. Then I’m trying to understand what I need to do and how to find resolve and closure. I have a feeling it’ll be more difficult to find than I expect.
I don’t think I’ve ached like this in a long time. I actually don’t remember ever feeling this way about anything before. Ever. It’s like a constant nagging of something so heavy on your heart. Like in Peru when you’re up in the mountains and you feel like someone is pushing against you trying to keep you from breathing. That’s what it’s like. Like I struggle to breath.
Everything seems to bother me right now. I feel like I fake laughter. I feel like everybody knows and they just stare at me waiting for me to cry.
Life goes on. True. But it hurts.
I start to cry multiple times during the day. And I stop myself.
My father wanted to die. He chose to be alone at the end of his life. He chose to walk away from me and mom and Micah. Yet somehow I still feel like I should’ve done more. Like I will always regret not picking up the phone.
And God knew. He knew I would be feeling this. He felt it. He feels it everytime someone dies. Hurt.
Marv died. That’s all my mom’s email said. One email saying he was going to be taken off life support. And then six hours later those two words. Now in some way I’m supposed to have the emotional and physical and spiritual capacity to lead 10 people I’ve never met into schools and balance my work and home life while being 10,000 miles away.
I don’t want to be here. I want to be home where I can sit in my room all day and not think about anything. And not have people ask me questions or talk to me. I want to be home. Before when people went home early I always scoffed and thought how ridiculous that was that people would leave the ministry or the programs. How stupid to change all that stuff to be able to go back. It’s not like you can do anything about it now. You can’t really change anything or fix it or somehow solve anything. When people would go home because someone’s marriage was junk or someone died. They couldn’t fix any of that.
It’s not about fixing the problem at that point. It’s about fixing yourself. It’s less about what happened to someone and more what’s happening to you. It’s about healing yourself and finding restoration and the ability to continue doing what you do and continue living. Letting it hurt so you can open a wound and it can be healed so you can someday help others.
Someone on my team once went home early because of a death. Before they left they said that I wouldn’t have done that. They said I would have stayed. I thought they were right. I thought that I would have stayed if someone in my family had died. But they were wrong. I’m going home. Not to try and bring back my father. But to bring back me. It’s not about bringing closure, but about bringing understanding.
I want my life to count. I don’t want my death to be mourned and remembered as a grievance of missed opportunities. I will try to loose the guilt and the feelings of never being able to fix the errors I feel that I’ve made.
My father wanted to die. That’s what my mom said. But I didn’t want him to.
Please pray for my family and I as we seek God and His healing.
Thanks for reading.
matt
I suppose I should just write and keep writing almost without using the backspace except to fix spelling errors. Cause those bother me.
My father is gone. It’s a weird thing. A strange thing to think that the life that brought me into the world has breathed it’s last and has stopped existing.
There’s all these things you feel and think. All these unsaid emotions and feelings and thoughts and regrets. All these things I wish I could’ve said before he died. I wish I could’ve told him that I wasn’t angry at him. I wasn’t upset or mad about the things he did. I know I’d told him before, years ago that I wasn’t upset or anything but I wish I could have two days. Or even two hours just to say what I feel. To say all these things that I’ll live with for the rest of my life. I want to see where he’s buried, but I don’t even know what that will be like I don’t know if it’s just a plaque or a sign on a wall. I need to see something. I’m afraid though of seeing all these things. But I have to.
I wish I had two hours. To find out where he was born and what he wanted to do with his life. To find out where he went to school and who his friends were and what happened to the motorcycle. Two hours to listen and see and apologize for not being more involved in his life.
I wish I would have gone to see him. To see where he lived and what he did. To maybe give him a little light and hope to continue living. In the end my father just wanted to die. He wanted to leave this world. He wanted to stop breathing and be done with everything. His body was tired and exhausted. He had no desire. No drive. Nothing to live for.
And I’m surprisingly ok. For the most part. One minute I’m totally fine. The next minute I’m crying. Then I’m questioning. Then I’m trying to understand what I need to do and how to find resolve and closure. I have a feeling it’ll be more difficult to find than I expect.
I don’t think I’ve ached like this in a long time. I actually don’t remember ever feeling this way about anything before. Ever. It’s like a constant nagging of something so heavy on your heart. Like in Peru when you’re up in the mountains and you feel like someone is pushing against you trying to keep you from breathing. That’s what it’s like. Like I struggle to breath.
Everything seems to bother me right now. I feel like I fake laughter. I feel like everybody knows and they just stare at me waiting for me to cry.
Life goes on. True. But it hurts.
I start to cry multiple times during the day. And I stop myself.
My father wanted to die. He chose to be alone at the end of his life. He chose to walk away from me and mom and Micah. Yet somehow I still feel like I should’ve done more. Like I will always regret not picking up the phone.
And God knew. He knew I would be feeling this. He felt it. He feels it everytime someone dies. Hurt.
Marv died. That’s all my mom’s email said. One email saying he was going to be taken off life support. And then six hours later those two words. Now in some way I’m supposed to have the emotional and physical and spiritual capacity to lead 10 people I’ve never met into schools and balance my work and home life while being 10,000 miles away.
I don’t want to be here. I want to be home where I can sit in my room all day and not think about anything. And not have people ask me questions or talk to me. I want to be home. Before when people went home early I always scoffed and thought how ridiculous that was that people would leave the ministry or the programs. How stupid to change all that stuff to be able to go back. It’s not like you can do anything about it now. You can’t really change anything or fix it or somehow solve anything. When people would go home because someone’s marriage was junk or someone died. They couldn’t fix any of that.
It’s not about fixing the problem at that point. It’s about fixing yourself. It’s less about what happened to someone and more what’s happening to you. It’s about healing yourself and finding restoration and the ability to continue doing what you do and continue living. Letting it hurt so you can open a wound and it can be healed so you can someday help others.
Someone on my team once went home early because of a death. Before they left they said that I wouldn’t have done that. They said I would have stayed. I thought they were right. I thought that I would have stayed if someone in my family had died. But they were wrong. I’m going home. Not to try and bring back my father. But to bring back me. It’s not about bringing closure, but about bringing understanding.
I want my life to count. I don’t want my death to be mourned and remembered as a grievance of missed opportunities. I will try to loose the guilt and the feelings of never being able to fix the errors I feel that I’ve made.
My father wanted to die. That’s what my mom said. But I didn’t want him to.
Please pray for my family and I as we seek God and His healing.
Thanks for reading.
matt
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
