Throwing Gifts on the Front Lawn

I spent an hour watching the original "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" movie with my wife and boys a few nights ago. I know it's a classic but, somehow, I had never seen it before.

Early in the movie, the elves made all sorts of incredible toys in Santa's workshop but, because of the Winter Warlock who lived on a nearby mountain, they decided to just throw them in the front yard. Rather than risk the potential pain and danger of delivering their toys to the sad children in Sombertown, these elves were content to create a yard full of useless lawn ornaments. Attempting to cross the mountain--even for something good--was just too big of a risk.

Over the past few days I've been wondering how often I turn my God-given gifts and talents into pointless Christian lawn art? I've been asking why I am content to live my life in the "faith bubble" that I've created for myself? Maybe it's because I'm afraid of failure. Or rejection. Or pain. Or embarrassment. Maybe it's because I don't want to leave what's comfortable. Or safe. Or popular. Or traditional. Maybe it's because I'm selfish. Or ignorant. Or lost. Or blind.

Regardless, I'm guilty. And I'm guessing that you probably are too. At least some of the time.

Is there a co-worker you've been led to share your faith with?
Is there a ministry at church that you've been called to work with?
Is there a homeless person you've been inspired to talk to?
Is there a book you've been equipped to write?
Is there a child you've been asked to foster?
Is there a team you've been told to lead?
Is there a mountain you've been challenged to cross?

It's a bit counter-intuitive, but the gifts that God has given to you and me were not meant exclusively for us. They were meant to be given away--to be shared--even when there's fear and trembling and maybe even a little sweat involved. Romans 12:6-8 says, "We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully."

God has given each of us specific talents and abilities and callings and passions and desires. The question is, in the face of even the slightest resistance, what are we going to do with them? Are we going to selflessly give these gifts away or carelessly throw them on the front lawn?

Cancelled Dreams

American Eagle Flight 4144 from Chicago to Champaign is rarely late and almost never cancelled. According to Flight Stats, the plane arrives on-schedule 83% of the time, and has only been cancelled twice in the past two months. On Tuesdays, American Eagle performs even better between the Windy City and the Twin Cities with an 89% on-time percentage.

On most days, a delay or cancellation for Flight 4144 is merely an inconvenience for a businessman trying to get home or for a University of Illinois parent trying to visit campus. Another plane heads--shuttle style--the same direction two hours later. Maybe a family dinner is missed. Or a meeting. Or, heaven forbid, an Illini game. But two hours isn't usually a big deal.

But on this particular Tuesday, when Flight 4144 was cancelled for just the third time in three months, it wasn't "most days." And two hours was a big deal.

Anna Ocean was supposed to be on that tiny plane. Traveling from Seattle, Washington, Anna was rushing to see her dad, Champaign resident James Harry, who was on the critical care floor of Provena Hospital.

Just six months before, Jim was at our house...and he was beaming. As we celebrated my son's second birthday, we celebrated Jim's daughter too. He hadn't seen her in person yet, but he had pictures, and everyone at the party had the chance to look at them - at least once. Calling Jim a "proud papa" would have been a massive understatement.

My wife's 82-year-old uncle had finally found the daughter he thought he had lost forever when she was about the same age as my two-year-old son. For 50 long years this quiet, unassuming man frequently wondered where Anna was and what she was doing. Then, this past March--with one phone call--Jim not only found his long-lost little girl, but two grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. He called that discovery "the highlight of my life."

Jim and his wife Judy planned a trip to Seattle for a reunion in August, but that's when Jim's health began to deteriorate. Diagnosed with Myasthenia Gravis--a disease that causes extreme muscle weakness and fatigue--doctors said that Jim had to wait until he was healthy enough to make the cross-country flight. Unfortunately, healthy never came.

As I stood in his hospital room on Monday, Jim was on a respirator and had more IV's in his body than I have fingers on my hands. Sedated, he looked peaceful, but his heart was far from calm. Jim's pulse and blood pressure rose and fell dramatically, setting off alarms at the nearby nurse station faster than they could reset them.

That's when Anna was called. And that's why Anna was supposed to be on American Eagle Flight 4144.

The plane should have landed at Willard Airport in Savoy at 4:50pm on Tuesday, November 8th, but it never left Chicago.The flight was cancelled. And with it, the possibility of Anna and Jim seeing each other for the first time since the early 1960s.

Instead, Anna arrived in Champaign at 7:50. Jim passed away at 7:02.

Since that day, I can't tell you how many times I've said to myself, "The story wasn't supposed to end this way." If anyone deserved a happy ending, it was Jim. He was a humble, unassuming man who was content with what he had. Uncle Jim never asked anything of anyone. Ever. Not even in his final days. Jim had the uncanny ability to find joy in the little things of life and I, for one, was thrilled at the prospects of watching him find joy in something big--something huge--that Tuesday night. Even if it happened as he took his last breath.

But, sadly, it wasn't to be.

My hope today comes from John 14 in which the Bible promises us that the story isn't over. It doesn't have to end in tragedy. God has prepared a place in heaven for all those who believe in him. A place where we will once again see those who have gone before us. A place where Christ followers will go when we die, or where Jesus will take us when he returns.

In a broad sense, this means that there will be many thousands of happy reunions in heaven as loved ones reconnect with Christian parents and grandparents and friends who have gone before them. But right now, for my family, it means that the final say in whether or not Anna and Jim ever stand face-to-face wasn't up to American Eagle.

The end of their story--and the end of yours and mine--rests in something far more secure.

I'm Positive It's Negative

I finally got a call from my doctor on Tuesday. After more than six weeks of waiting on pathology results for a small tumor that was removed from my scalp, we have answers.

The results...were negative. The good kind of negative, not the bad kind. As in, the tumor was not lymphoma. Three different labs looked at the sample, including Mayo Clinic, and each them said it was incredibly difficult to determine what they were looking at. In fact, one of the pathologists at Mayo said it was "one of the strangest things I've ever seen."

As I understand it, the tumor was made up of "atypical lymph cells of the T variety," but (thankfully) these cells weren't cancerous. In layman's terms, my head randomly decided to grow a benign tumor made up of cells that were acting much like a bored group of honor roll students wandering the streets after dark. They shouldn't have been there, but they weren't doing anything bad once they showed up.

A collective sigh of relief has been breathed at the Sinclair house for sure...but we still have many questions that will hopefully be answered by our oncologist next week:

- Would those cells have turned into cancer if given more time?
- Will the growth come back?
- Could a similar thing show up somewhere else?
- Should we do regular scans to make sure everything is okay?

Regardless, my wife and I would like to thank you for your prayers, cards, phone calls, and offers to help. I can't tell you how much those have meant to us. We're tremendously grateful for the good news about my health, but we're almost equally as grateful for the outpouring of love and support from friends, family, listeners, and readers. Again, thank you.

Is It Cancer or a Giant Zit?

Today marks 38 days since a small tumor was removed from my scalp. Back then we thought it was just a oil-filled cyst, but when my doctor began the procedure, he quickly realized otherwise. Within a week, two area physicians and one pathologist all wanted to say that I had lymphoma, but no one was quite willing to.

Five and a half weeks (and three pathology labs) later, we still don't have answers. Mayo Clinic, one of the finest medical facilities in the world, has the sample now...but we're still waiting. Was the growth really cancer or was it just a highly-agitated, incredibly-gigantic zit? Hopefully we will know sooner rather than later.

As my wife and I have looked for hope and solace in our time of waiting, we have spent many hours trying to discern what God's plan is in all of this. Is he trying to teach us patience? Is he attempting to deepen our prayer lives? Is he encouraging us to draw closer to each other? Is he hoping that this situation will allow us to better tell his story someday? Is he challenging us to live out our faith in the face of fear?

Maybe.

But what if this time of waiting is not about me (or us) at all? What if my waiting is simply a small part of someone else's story? What if somewhere, somehow God is doing something which requires my patience right here and right now? What if my suffering is for their good? What if my agony is for their well-being? What if God is simply asking me to sacrifice my own personal comfort for another human being?

Jesus experienced that very thing on the cross. God was doing something for us, but his one and only son had to suffer in order to make it happen. Jesus wasn't getting a return in exchange for his pain. His death on the cross wasn't a business transaction. His crucifixion was suffering exclusively for our benefit. Actually, that's what made it so special. There was no selfish reason--not one--that Jesus should want to die. But he willingly did. For you and for me.

Romans 8:28 says in part, "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him." And, often, our assumption is that "good" means that we will be healthier or wealthier or wiser when the suffering ends. But I'm not so sure that's always true. What if suffering for someone else's gain, with no tangible benefit on the other side, is--in and of itself--"good?"