Archive for the 'memories' Category

Five Years

Published
by
Mike
on September 11, 2006
in General and memories
. 73 Comments

I remember exactly where I was when word came that JFK had been shot in 1963 (I was in Mrs. Ferguson’s 2nd grade at Field Elementary School in Neosho, MO) . . . and I’ll never forget the morning of 9/11/01.

I was driving to the church building that Tuesday morning when I heard a news flash on NPR that a plane had hit the north tower of the World Trade Center. Was it a pilot error? Was it a mechanical malfunction? Or — God forbid — was it an attack? No one yet knew.

When I arrived at the office, we all gathered around the tiny black and white television whose rabbit ears picked up the Today Show. Like everyone else, we watched the tragedy unfold.

About an hour later, someone came from our Ladies’ Bible Class, asking if I’d come say a few words and pray. Several who were old enough to remember Pearl Harbor were in such deep sorrow for the world.

Now, five years later, we’re still in awe that young men could be convinced that God would be glorified by such destruction — that they would honor him by killing themselves as they murdered so many people.

Hatred is toxic. Hatred fueled by religious conviction is murderous.

Today we can again pray for Shalom — for the kingdom of God to continue breaking into this world of confusion and anger. And we commit ourselves to being people who follow the way of the kingdom.

What do you remember about that day?

19 Cent Gas . . . and Wall-Building

Published
by
Mike
on September 6, 2006
in memories and scripture
. 27 Comments

Am I the only one who has paid $.19/gallon for gas? Back when I first got my driver’s license in Missouri, there were occasional gas wars that drove the price of gas down from $.24/gal to $.19/gal.

We were a Ford family (had to do with who did the most advertising in the newspaper where my dad was the publisher), so I drove a Falcon. That was followed by a Maverick.

Yesterday, the range of gas prices I saw in Abilene was from $2.30/gal to $2.64/gal. I decided to go with the $2.30. That’s quite a free fall from the $2.99 of a couple months ago.

The temptation every time gas falls a bit or a new source is discovered (as was reported yesterday) is to forget about the need for conservation. But we all know that over the long haul, that’s essential. There is not an unlimited supply of oil, and we must not be in a situation where our oil dependence dictates foreign policy.

- - - -

Yesterday as I read Nehemiah, these insights stuck with me:

First, he was a man on a mission — to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem (about 445 B.C.) — and wasn’t going to be deterred by opposition. Sanballat, the fly in his soup, sent him a letter through an aide that read:

“It is reported among the nations — and Geshem says it is true — that you and the Jews are plotting to revolt, and therefore you are building the wall. Moreover, according to these reports you are about to become their king and have even appointed prophets to make this proclamation about you in Jerusalem: ‘There is a king in Judah!’ Now this report will get back to the king; so come, let us meet together.”

He sent this reply: “Nothing like what you are saying is happening; you are just making it up out of your head.” He knew they were just trying to discourage him so he wouldn’t complete his task. So Nehemiah prayed, “Now strengthen my hands.”

Second, he was angered by the way the people of privilege were ignoring the needs of the poorer members of the community. He challenged them: “Let us stop charging interest! Give back to them immediately their fields, vineyards, olive groves and houses, and also the interest you are charging them — one percent of the money, grain, new wine and olive oil.”

And third, when the law of God was interpreted and explained to the people and when they were filled with sorrow, Nehemiah told them not to weep. There’s a time for repentant sorrow, but this was a time of joy. The word of God was being heard and they were being reformed as a community of trust. So he said: “Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is holy to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”

Wheezing, Hacking, and Gasping

Published
by
Mike
on August 28, 2006
in memories
. 20 Comments

I was a child asthmatic. A bad one. And to go with this:

- I was constantly running and playing sports;

- We lived on several acres with every inflammatory weed;

- This was before Serevent inhalers.

There were so many nights that I would lie on the floor or on my bed gasping for breath. I remember one time in particular, at my uncle and aunt’s house, when I thought I’d die. My parents tried everything (including doctors and chiropractors) to try to bring relief. I learned to hate the word “pollen.” And we learned how to build a makeshift sauna with steam nearly anywhere.

Mostly I’ve grown out of asthma, but some allergies have hung on. Spring is still hard here with cedar and weed in the air. But now there are such wonderful things as Claritin-D, Singulair, and Advair inhalers.

Every time I see a child wheezing or an older person struggling with a cannula to get enough air, I sympathize.

What a wonderful thing a full breath of air is. It’s a gift not to be overlooked.

Stop and enjoy. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The Reception

Published
by
Mike
on July 25, 2006
in Highland and memories
. 22 Comments

It must have taken a LONG time to get back to Abilene from Waco tonight. I was in my forties when I left Waco; now I’m in my fifties.

A few of our favorite scenes from the July 16 reception at Highland to mark the completion of our 15 years.

Lots of love from Wanda . . .

And from precious Hope:

The Morning My Brother Whistled

Published
by
Mike
on June 16, 2006
in faith, family, grief and memories
. 32 Comments

On June 16, 1999, tragedy struck our family again. My fun-loving, faith-filled nephew, Jantsen, died suddenly at the age of 15. There was no warning. He went to lift weights with the football team, laid down to rest, and his heart failed him.

Today I’ve asked my brother, Randy Cope, to reflect on these seven years since the death of his son.

- - - -

Seven years ago today my life changed forever.

Actually I knew that it had changed the moment the doctor came out of the emergency room and told my wife and me that our 15-year-old son had passed from this life from what we later found out was an undetected heart problem.

I had enjoyed my life up to that point – a healthy family, a good job, and a bright future – but as I stood in the hallway of Freeman Hospital there was no doubt that things would never be the same. Before I left my son’s side that day I prepared myself for a life that resembled a scorched forest after a wild fire. The hillsides filled with lush trees and the valleys filled with wildflowers would now be smoldering ashes.

As the fog lifted so did the reality of what had been lost. Each new act brought new pain – the first trip to the store, the first Sunday at church – even the first time I decided to make oatmeal and had to figure out how to make it for one person, since he and I were the only breakfast eaters in the house.

And such was my life – for a season.

Yet one day, months later, I caught myself whistling. There wasn’t much life in the tune, but it surprised me just the same. As I look back on it now I see that moment as a sign of the renewal that was to follow.

From that first sprig of life has grown not a forest, but a park. I say park because my days are not only filled with life, but an increasing measure of purpose and meaning.

Don’t get me wrong; to call my life a park is not to say that there are no weeds. Our enemy is relentless and is not even above using my grief against me to pull me down from time to time.

Yet as I look back over these last few years I see many wonderful lessons:
• God is creative and lavish in the gifts He sends to bring comfort. He brought friends I hadn’t seen in years, books, music, nature, and even complete strangers to bring healing.
• God taught me not to fear life in the valley. The valley of suffering to me was a place to be avoided at all cost. Now I see that it is strangely a place of peace. God dwells with His suffering people in the valley – in green pastures and beside quiet waters. The Bible reads completely different now that I have this perspective of suffering.
• There is nothing more beautiful than a friend that comes running to help, even when the emotional fallout is intense. Friends like Todd, Warren, Tracy, James, and Cary, who all jumped in to save us – and a brother and sister-in-law who came to sit beside us in silence and later whispered lessons they had learned, having started this journey of grief with their own daughter five years earlier.
• With a treasure of mine now in Heaven I see life much different. It is like studying a Magic Eye drawing and suddenly seeing a beautiful scene in what you once thought was simply a meaningless mess of color.
• With Jantsen on the other bank, the water that separates this life from the next is a brook, not a ragging river – one I am anxious to step over once my work here is done.

I see the work of restoration most in the life of my wife. On that day seven years ago I prepared myself to care for her through the years. I knew she would never recover.

Yet she did.

After a season of intense suffering I watched as our Lord lifted her up – not to her old self but He transformed her into a daughter who has a passion for those that suffer. This new perspective on life has led her to start a ministry that dries the tears and brings smiles to the faces of orphaned children in countries like Vietnam, Cambodia, Haiti, and Nicaragua. God also brought her – us – healing through our oldest daughter and our two young ones, whom we met when he led us to them half way around the world.

Some days the pain returns – not the intense “I can’t breath” pain that I remember from the early days, but a heaviness that I guess will be with me all the days of this life. Maybe, however, this heaviness is in some ways a blessing. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “When a loved one dies, God comforts us enough to sustain us, but God leaves enough of the void and enough of the loneliness to help us to anticipate the reunion.”

And so it is, seven years later.

I can’t leave this reflection without thinking of a song by Stephen Curtis Chapman that helped inspire me to get up off the ground and “dive in” to what Got has in store for me:

The long awaited rains
Have fallen hard upon the thirsty ground
And carved their way to where
The wild and rushing river can be found
And like the rains
I have been carried here to where the river flows.
My heart is racing and my knees are weak
As I walk to the edge
I know there is no turning back
Once my feet have left the ledge
And in the rush I hear a voice
That’s telling me it’s time to take the leap of faith…

So here I go I’m diving in, I’m going deep in over my head, I want to be
Caught in the rush, lost in the flow, in over my head, I want to go
The river’s deep, the river’s wide, the river’s water is alive
So sink or swim, I’m diving in

There is a supernatural power
In this mighty river’s flow
It can bring the dead to life
And it can fill an empty soul
And give a heart the only thing
Worth living and worth dying for.
But we will never know the awesome power
Of the grace of God
Until we let ourselves get swept away
Into this holy flood
So if you’ll take my hand
We’ll close our eyes and count to three
And take the leap of faith
Come on let’s go
…
Lord, I thank you for bringing peace to the valley – and for what awaits us all around the next turn.

Turning 50 This Year

Published
by
Mike
on May 19, 2006
in General and memories
. 40 Comments

What and Who is turning 50 this year?

Yahtzee

“The Wizard of Oz” on TV

Jif peanut putter

“Heartbreak Hotel”

Pampers

“Dear Abby”

Tom Hanks, Kim Cattrall, Mel Gibson, and Ann Curry

Scotchgard

“As the World Turns”

“I walk the Line”

Certs

First hard disk drive

Play-Doh

“The Price Is Right”

Me

- - - -

Yesterday afternoon carpool was as lively as it’s ever been. Things are being dissected in 7th grade biology. Dissected animals and 7th grade boys — now that’s a successful combination. All were complaining because in one of their friend’s classes they got to cut open a pig and jump rope with the small intestines.

No wonder they were jealous.

On Lightening Up a Wee Bit

Published
by
Mike
on May 9, 2006
in Church of Christ and memories
. 76 Comments

I’ve mentioned before the three views one can have of parents: a child’s view (my parents are perfect and have no faults); an adolescent’s view (my parents are embarrassing embeciles); and a mature adult’s view (my parents have strengths and faults).

Those are the same views one can have of a religious heritage.

I continue to bump up against the childish view: our heritage was wonderful and should never be critiqued or laughed at. If you critique it or laugh at it, then you hate it and think it’s stupid.

Last year for the Zoe conference I made a silly little video called “Mike Cope Sings the Classics.” (Soon it will be on www.zoegroup.org. Thanks, Keith!) Most people have enjoyed it.

After I showed it at Pepperdine in my class with Zoe, a woman came up and chewed me out so long people gave up trying to visit with me. She said I despised people like her and the songs they like. I tried to remain calm and explain kindly why people liked it — not because they HATE the heritage but because they LOVE it.

We suffer from humorlessness.

In healthy families, you’re able to spot weaknesses and tell humorous stories about the family. Not because you despise it, but because you love it and see the humor and joy of it. Dysfunctional families — those that remain in childish states — can’t allow humor. It’s just too fragile to joke about.

Some of the stuff in our heritage needs to be critiqued, like the exclusivism. (There’s a reason people thought we believed we were the only ones going to heaven.) However, if we attack our heritage like adolescents — as if it was totally devoid of spiritual impulses and spiritual people — that needs to be challenged.

But when we find humor — in skipping the third verse of every song, in the love of singing 728B, in the “scare you down to the front” invitation songs, etc. — that’s not because we despise the past. We are part of that past. It helped shape us and form us. And while we’re aware of flaws and quirks, we’re also deeply aware of the amazing strengths.

Will people in the future find humor as they remember my quirks? Oh, I hope so! And if they do, I trust that it will be with appreciation for the past.

Please, lighten up.

Invitation Songs

Published
by
Mike
on May 8, 2006
in Church and memories
. 96 Comments

We were a three-time-a-week family. Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, Wednesday nights. It didn’t matter if we didn’t want to go, if we didn’t like something that was happening, or if it was the middle of “The Wizard of Oz” and we’d never seen the ending because it always started at 6:00 on Sunday evening and church began at 7:00.

And somewhere in all three of those services, there was an invitation song. Here are the ones I remember at the moment:

“Just As I Am” (of course)
“I Am Resolved”
“Softly and Tenderly”
“What Shall It Be?”
“O Why Not Tonight?”
“Jesus Is Tenderly Calling”
“Why Keep Jesus Waiting?”
“Out of My Bondage”
“Bring Christ Your Broken Life”
“Lord, I’m Coming Home”
“Sinners Jesus Will Receive”

I know I’m forgetting some others. But these are downloaded into my head. And many of their lyrics are powerful.

Just as I am! Thy love unknown
Has broken every barrier down;
Now to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

Oh, for the wonderful love he has promised,
Promised for you and for me;
Though we have sinned, he has mercy and pardon
Pardon for you and for me.

Which invitation songs have I omitted? Which ones have spoken meaningfully to you?

Jerry Jones

Published
by
Mike
on January 9, 2006
in General and memories
. 12 Comments

I’ve had several older men in my life through the years who have helped shape me into the way of Jesus. (To be honest, I still do: Clois, Wally, Grady, Landon, etc.)

But there is one I’ll never forget. There’s just something about those college years that are so important.

Jerry Jones was the chairman of the Bible Department when I was a student at Harding. He was also my homiletics instructor. I learned a lot of head stuff from him.

But his place in my life went way beyond the classroom. We became friends. We ran together in the evening–five miles of sweat talking about dating, scripture, marriage, preaching, sports. We played ping-pong together. I was better. Way better. But for some reason, he won. A lot. He had no offense. He just stood ten feet behind the table calmly returning slam after slam until I was worn out.

A couple times he took me with him as he drove out to preach in revivals at small churches.

Actually, I owe him even more. He preached in a gospel meeting in NE Ohio and there met Diane when she’d been out of high school a year or two. He convinced her that she should attend Harding, promising her that they’d find a way to make it work financially.

My life is richer, deeper, and more gospel-formed because this older man shared his life with me.

Hook Em Horns!

Published
by
Mike
on January 5, 2006
in memories and sports
. 23 Comments

I was a campus baby while my parents attended the University of Texas. Whoever didn’t have a class was my babysitter. And apparently one of my first phrases to speak was HOOK EM HORNS.

I was introduced to the biblical concept of “alien and stranger” by being a UT fan while growing up just an hour from the University of Arkansas campus. Every fourth year when the UT/UA game was played in Fayetteville (the Arkansas home games alternated between Fayetteville and Little Rock), our family dressed up in orange and attended, finding our place in the sea of red. We were there for the game of the century in 1969–despite the fact that President Nixon took our tickets.

(The full story is that when the President decided to attend, they had to take some tickets from around the stadium for security and ours were chosen. Hmmmm. Did they know we’d be wearing orange? But my dad snagged some last-minute tickets from another source.)

So . . . this was a big night. The first national title for the Longhorns since 1970. And does anyone doubt what I’ve been writing about Vince Young? He was 30-for-40 in passing for over 250 yards. That’s a good night for a QB. But what sets him apart is that he rushed for 200 yards. That was the difference.

Hook em horns!!