Vertical or Vertigo

2 Corinthians 5:4

 New Living Translation (NLT)

 ⁴ While we live in these earthly bodies, we groan and sigh, but it’s not that we want to die and get rid of these bodies that clothe us. Rather, we want to put on our new bodies so that these dying bodies will be swallowed up by life.

In May 2013 I woke up about 4:00 a.m. with the world spinning around me. The dizziness went away rapidly, and the rest of the day went just fine. The next morning the same weird thing happened. I got up and discovered that I couldn’t walk straight. It, too, went away but left a strange feeling in my head. On the third morning things were really spinning around. Sylvia phoned a neighbor who also happens to be a doctor. She urged me to go down and get some tests done. Since these symptoms went away again, I procrastinated.

 I went to my chiropractor, Dr Greene. She felt my neck and stated that a particular vertebra was out of line. She popped it back in, assured me things would be better, and I went on my way. Sure enough, I had no more problems. None. Nada. I rejoiced in the powers of Dr Greene.

 Three weeks later I awoke at 3:00 a.m. and found myself clutching at the wall as I wound my way into the bathroom. It was almost as if I were constantly falling toward my left. Again I visited Dr Greene. Sure enough that pesky vertebra had popped out again. She popped it back in. The next two mornings I again had the world spinning around for brief periods of time.

 I began to imagine a tumor pressing down on my balance mechanism somewhere in my skull. Or maybe I was experiencing small strokes. I had taken my blood pressure, and it seemed normal, but maybe my heart was conking out on me. I was retiring in a few days and could imagine myself being a total invalid the rest of my miserable life. What kind of justice was this?

 Finally I went down to the university health clinic. The doctor looked very concerned and forbade my driving. He sent me down to the emergency room in the hospital. I lay in there for six hours. They did attach me to a heart monitor right away. They sent me down to have a CT scan. When the radiologist finally read it, he remarked that there might be something “irregular” in my head, so the ER doctor admitted me into the hospital for more tests.

 Over the next 18 hours or so they hooked me up to an EKG and an EEG and finally took an MRI. By this time I was about “alphabetted” out. They awoke me every half hour or so throughout the night, very politely of course, but that ruined my whole next day. Of course my head felt really spaced-out all the next day. It felt like the same old vertigo but was much more likely the sleep abuse I was getting in the hospital.

 Finally the neurologist came in to see me. He told me that he had looked at all the results and they all looked normal. He felt I undoubtedly had Benign Positional Vertigo (BPV, another alphabet soup). I enquired as to what that might be. He remarked that a lot of older people get this kind of vertigo and they can’t find anything systemic that causes it. So the term is simply what doctors use to indicate they have no clue what I really have. At least he was honest with me. He wanted to keep me in another night. Dreading another routine of being woken up every half-hour, I begged to go home. He suggested another test, an MRA this time, but he felt that it was only a long shot so sent me home.

...

I wrote the above more than a year ago, about a month after it all happened. Needless to say it had me scared. With the passage of time and a few more visits to my chiropractor, the symptoms have long since disappeared.

Yes, Lord, I long to get into my new body that You have promised me, but I don’t believe that You want me to leave the old one yet. Thank You, Lord, for Your promises.

Wits End Rescue

2 Corinthians 12:9

Phillips

My grace is enough for you: for where there is weakness, my power is shown the more completely.

We were en route to Africa for mission service with two little girls and a very pregnant Sylvia. We had a letter from her physician stating that she was able to travel and about $300 in cash. I had just finished graduate school, and our bank account was practically nil.

We had landed in Paris where the airline had obtained a day room for Sylvia to rest in while we waited for our flight to Harare in Zimbabwe. We tucked the two girls into the one single bed, and they went to sleep almost immediately. Sylvia ran a warm bath and settled in the tub. I told her I would go down and pick up our boarding passes. I encouraged her strongly to stay in the room. I really didn’t want to answer questions about her pregnancy and ability to fly.

The line was long at the South African Airways ticket office when I took my place at the end of the line. It moved forward at a snail’s pace, and finally, just as I stepped up to the desk with my tickets in hand, Sylvia waddled up. Her clothing did nothing to hide the fact that she was within six weeks of delivering a child.

Handing out tickets to the agent, I asked for boarding passes. Her eyes appraised Sylvia critically, “Is she going on this plane?” she asked with a strong South African accent.

“Yes,” I answered firmly, “Here’s the letter from her doctor!” I held out the letter.

“Oh no, she’s not!” She was equally firm and totally ignored the proffered letter. “Next please!” she said looking at the passenger behind me.

I didn’t move. “Oh yes she is!” We argued back and forth with “Yes” and “No” for a while. People in the line behind us were getting more and more impatient. The clerk was getting more and more aggravated. Finally she disappeared with a “Wait here!”

I breathed a desperate plea to heaven for help. I had visions of being stranded in Paris with no money, a very pregnant wife and two small children, and no understanding of the language. I knew of no one to call for help.

A tall official looking man walked in from a back office. He asked no questions, He said simply and finally. “She is not going on this plane! When the baby is born and ready to travel, then they can go. You and the children can go on this plane.”

As he started away I heard myself say with total confidence: “All right! We have a letter from the doctor. We have tickets. We are half way to our destination. You are obstructing our way. Therefore, you must put all of us up in a hotel until the baby is born and we are ready to fly. You must pay for all medical expenses.”

He looked at me in total disbelief. Now he pondered what to do. Then with another “Wait here!” he stalked off. He returned almost immediately with a sheaf of release documents. “Sign here! And here! And here!” Then the handed us the boarding passes.

Thank You, Lord, for Your willingness to step in when I’m at wits end and rescue me to show your strength and wisdom.

Support a Prostitute?

Matthew 25:40

Contemporary English Version (CEV)

⁴⁰ The king will answer, “Whenever you did it for any of my people, no matter how unimportant they seemed, you did it for me.”

Miriamu came to our door. She had both hands out in supplication. “Makopo” she said simply.—some tins. She had a small child at her side and baby on her hip. It was obvious that none of them had had a bath in a long time. Sylvia scurried around until she found a tin can and handed it to Miriamu, who received it in her right hand while politely touching that arm with her left hand.

A few days later she was back, this time for bit of cloth. On another occasion it was clear that her baby was very sick. Sylvia gave her a cheti to take to the local medical clinic authorizing his treatment on our account. The visits continued on a more or less regular basis, and we provided her with many necessities of life, buying the fresh ears of maize she sometimes brought or giving her a skirt or blouse.

As the years went by there were more children at her side--and always a baby on her hip. At times Miriamu was obviously pregnant, but she never tried to get help by working on our sympathy or showing a “poor me” attitude. She was a cheerful woman.

As we learned more Swahili, we learned more of Miriamu’s life. She was single. In the African economy there was no place for a single woman. The only way she had of earning a living was to prostitute herself. The children she had with her continuously were a natural result of her profession. Their future was very dim and sad.

Sylvia talked to her each time she came by for something. Once in a while she chided her mildly about her lifestyle and encouraged her to find another way of support. But more often she simply commiserated with her and tried to share with her the Christian hope. And we continued to help support her. I’ve told some people that I supported a prostitute for five years—without receiving any of the services normally associated with that profession. Eventually we moved away, and I have often wondered what happened to her and her children.

Lord, I ask that You especially support the unfortunate and provide them with the real hope in Your kingdom.

Training for a Crown

1 Corinthians 9:25 

(New International Version, ©2010)

²⁵ Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.

In 2011 an opportunity opened to present a paper at a mathematics education conference in South Africa. I wanted to go to South Africa again. Friends I would like to see live there. Places I would like to visit, some for the first time and some just to enjoy seeing again, beckoned. Having been born there and grown up there, I feel it’s almost like going home.

However, everything about the trip was expensive. It was possible that I could get some financial support from the university for going if I presented a paper at this conference. Furthermore, the trip would probably become partially tax deductible if I presented a paper there. So I decided to present a paper. I wrote up a proposal and e-mailed it in. The response was enthusiastically positive.

After that I spent a great deal of time researching my topic. I spent time in the university library using current periodicals. I spent hours looking on the Internet. I went over what I had been doing in my own classroom and worked to get things organized into a presentable form. Finally, I started writing the paper I planned to present. This took more time than even I had reckoned it would. Naturally, I didn’t want to stand in front of the group and sound under-prepared. 

What did all this time and effort gain me? Fifteen or twenty minutes of presentation; polite applause; an entry on my curriculum vitae; some financial support; pleasant memories, and that’s all.

Lord, help me to be as diligent spending meaningful time preparing for the time I will get to present myself before your throne!

Fellowship of Adventist Missionaries to Africa

Mark 16:15-16 

King James Version (KJV)

¹⁵ And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature. ¹⁶ He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned.

Last week our efforts were devoted to the meeting of the Fellowship of Adventist Missionaries to Africa or FAMA for short. Sylvia and I were very involved, doing tasks from finding the venue to arranging for housing and food. Our meetings began Thursday evening and ended Sunday morning with attendance varying from about 20 to over 70.

Several of the attendees told of their experiences. For example, Fred Wilson, who spent many years in Africa from the late 1960s on, shared his latest endeavors. Even though he is over 80 years old, he is still very active. He has spent the last few years raising funds and building over 35 buildings in Malawi. Many of these buildings are for the new Malawi Adventist University.

Adventist work started in South Africa in the late 1800s. Their first endeavor amongst non-Christian peoples began in 1894 at Solusi Mission in what is now Zimbabwe. In the late 1950s and early 1960s my Dad, Dr. C.F. Clarke, converted Solusi from a 10 grade school to a four-year college. Today it is one of the major universities in Zimbabwe and the only university in the country to remain open during the crisis days when Zimbabwe’s economy collapsed.

Today there are roughly 18 million Adventists world-wide. Fully one-third of these believers are in Africa, a testimony to the power of the Holy Spirit and the tenacious efforts of missionaries like those who attended the FAMA meetings this year. Scattered across these many lands are the graves of missionaries who gave their all to Christ and Africa. These include my mother at Solusi and my grandfather who is buried at Helderberg in South Africa.

Thank You, Lord, for richly blessing those who have gone to Africa over the years and the tens of thousands of Africans who are working with your Holy Spirit today to bring Africa to Christ.

Tired of Working Early and Late?

Psalm 127:2

Contemporary English Version (CEV)

² It is useless to get up early and stay up late in order to earn a living. God takes care of his own, even while they sleep.

When we went to Africa, I taught math and various other subjects at Ikizu Secondary School. Classes started every morning at 7:00, and I taught until about 2:00 in the afternoon on every weekday except Friday when classes ended at noon.

The school assigned me other responsibilities. Primarily, I had to keep all of the machinery on campus working. This included lawnmowers, a tractor, an electricity generator, and a water pump. I also managed the school’s printing press which printed pamphlets and various other forms and papers. The press was made in 1905, if I remember correctly. Cooks in the school kitchen used wood-fired stoves to cook food for our students. For a couple years I had to keep a supply of wood for the kitchen at all times.

As I look back on it, I wonder how on earth I found time to do all of this. We generated our own electricity, which was only on from 6:00 to 9:30 in the evenings. This was a blessing in disguise. It meant that darkness settled on campus at 9:30 p.m. So although I got up early to meet my classes, I also got to bed shortly after 9:30 almost every evening. In times of emergency, most notably when the water pump went out, I would work on it sometimes until dawn.

During the rest of my teaching career I often started teaching at 8:00 in the morning and went until 10:00 or later every night. As time went by this schedule became more and more onerous. In later years I would pull into my garage and then just sit in the car, too tired to go in and go to bed. More and more I came to realize that this kind of working is, as the Psalmist said, useless and in vain.

Thank You, Lord, that You give us the ability to work and provide for our families but that You also expect us to get our full quota of rest.

Be Merciful like God is Merciful

Luke 6:36

Good News Translation (GNT)

³⁶ Be merciful just as your Father is merciful.

It was vacation time at university. I was seriously courting Sylvia. Aunt Mildred invited us to come north and spend the weekend with her. Since my parents were missionaries in Africa, Aunt Mildred, my Dad’s sister, was the closest relative I had. Sylvia persuaded her father to loan us their VW Bug for the 5 hour trip.

It was fairly late in the morning, and Sylvia’s parents were both working when we tucked our things in the Bug, and I backed the car out of their garage. I hadn’t driven their Bug before; in fact, it had been several years since I had driven any vehicle. With my interest focused much more closely on the love of my life than on driving, I turned too abruptly and bumped the right fender against the garage door. We both surveyed the very nasty dent I had made in the formerly immaculate car.

We chatted about many things as we made our way north, but the dent was firmly in my consciousness at all times. I explored as many options as I could think of to fix the dent. I talked with my cousin’s husband who was a mechanic about getting it fixed. Every solution required more time and money than we had.

Finally I had to face the music. When we returned I approached Sylvia’s father with fear and remorse. I didn’t have ready cash for the repair but would pay it off as I worked. He looked at me and smiled. He assured me that it would be no problem and he would take care of it. The next time I visited their home, the fender was as good as new. He never mentioned it again.

Thank You, heavenly Father, that You are as ready as he was to daily show me unlimited mercy and forgiveness for all of my faults and blunders, minor or serious.