Archive for the 'the wreck' Category

An Interview with Dr. Jeff Childers about the Wreck

Published
by
Mike
on April 24, 2006
in Highland, faith and the wreck
. 36 Comments

1. Jeff, we’ve been drawn much closer together over the past year because of the experience our children were in. I’ve shared with this blog community some of the horror — along with some of the blessings that have come. Could you reflect a bit on some of the positive things you’ve seen from this tragic experience?

Our time together has been one of the real blessings to come out of this nightmare — and for me, part of the healing too. You and I always said we wanted to spend more time together somehow, though I don’t think this is the way either of us would have chosen to begin doing that. Still, it’s funny how catastrophe can open our eyes to a new way of seeing, so that some vital things which tend to get laid aside in favor of “urgent routines” make their way to the top of the list, demanding attention. Conversation, relationship, community — why does it often take crisis and loss to remind us how much more important those things are than many of the things we misspend our energies towards every day?

Back to your question. Amara was in the accident because she traded seats with a friend during the last rest stop. For some reason, she and her two friends weren’t able to ride in the same vehicle together. Amara was assigned to ride in the car her mom was driving — not the average 8th-grader’s dream youth group road-trip, but she endured. The other two girls were together. As an act of friendship, one of them (Sage Nielson) gave up her place so that Amara could be with the other girl for a while: Beth Johnston. Then the accident happened. The seat-swap created some confusion back in Abilene about just who was involved in the accident but it also stirred deep emotions between Sage and Amara.

When Amara was finally brought to the hospital, she looked awful and was in a lot of pain. But she had only two things on her mind and she kept talking about them, for as long as she was conscious: 1) the people who had helped her and prayed with her on the roadside; and 2) she asked how everybody involved was doing — including Sage. Once Amara and Sage finally got to see one another, late the next day, the scene was incredible. “I am so sorry that you took my place,” Sage said. “It should have been me!” At the same time, Amara was blurting out, “I am so glad that we traded places, so you didn’t have to go through this!” They were both weeping. Come to think of it, some other people in the room may have been crying too. Each was ready to give herself up for the other and in the middle of the horrific pain of that time of broken bodies and death they knew very well what they were saying. The image of Christ was making an appearance, right there among the cookie bouquets and blood transfusions.

Has anything positive come from this? Yes. For instance, we got so many cookie bouquets that we had to borrow extra freezer space… :) But seriously — in this experience we have met God. You can tell whether a sure-enough, for-real encounter with God has happened based on how the event transforms people’s lives. You often can’t know at the moment. You certainly can’t tell God showed up just because there are deep emotions, or great inner experiences, or amazing coincidences, or miraculous provisions, wonderful as all those may be. Sometimes we let ourselves get fooled into thinking that those are the marks of a God-thing, but he’s deeper than those things. It’s about how the event causes people’s lives to be reordered according to the image of Christ — that’s how you can see God’s hand. It usually takes some time; time to see the effects, time to reflect on the event and the aftermath. More than a year later, I can look back and see how that this event has evoked the image of Christ. Amara and Sage — the Good Samaritans on the roadside — the people who sacrificed and mobilized to help the Bourlands and all the families involved in the wreck — the Highland Church coming together for service, prayer, and healing — cooperation and compassion between denominations in Abilene — the tangible outpouring of love from people all over the place, including so many regulars on your Blog. And in Amara I have seen ongoing transformation. She is more responsive to people in need. She has volunteered her time to help the local Children’s Miracle Network — including doing spots on TV and radio (against every 14-15-year old’s instincts..). She thinks about creative ways to use her money to help others. She’s on her way to Mexico this summer to put her aching body to work for others. I am proud of her.

Seeing all this in the aftermath has renewed my conviction that the Way of Jesus is a good Way. And I am totally convinced that our family and our church met God that day, because of the way his character and heart have revealed themselves in the midst of it all. Many people impacted by this event have been formed according to Christ. To me — that’s positive.

2. You’re a dad and a theologian. You’re bound to have heard people try to explain “why this wreck happened.” Can you help us think Christianly about this?

Tough question. After all, if we met God that day and if rich blessings have come out of the event, is that why it happened? Who am I to say? Maybe I should stop there. But, here goes…

Early on Amara started getting hit with many different explanations for her suffering — everything from “accidents happen,” to elaborate commentaries that confidently interpreted every detail of the experience as directly orchestrated by God for very clear and specific purposes. She handled the explanations fairly well. I think deep down she sensed that people were genuinely trying to be helpful and encouraging in a faithful way. But more than once, having to grapple with some of the explanations produced tears and painful conversations as she tried to fit these explanations into what she knew from the Bible and her experience. Some of them just wouldn’t fit. Some of them required a God who was totally absent; others required a God who spent a lot of his time inventing new ways for people to suffer unfairly. One evening she visited with me about how hard it was to see God as someone who would deliberately take away a mother’s young son, as in her accident — or to cause the suffering of a child who was being abused by a parent over many years, as in some cases she’d heard about. Yet some of the explanations from older Christians she admired required that kind of God, and it was difficult to swallow. You can imagine that we were having different conversations than we’d had before.

It was a reminder to me that theology matters, because some theology is toxic, no matter how well-meaning. It often becomes toxic when some truth about God is magnified to become the only truth about God, at the expense of some other truths that are just as biblical and just as important. But maybe I didn’t need to worry about it so much, since over the last year my teenaged daughter has become quite a practicing theologian. She didn’t just swallow everything she heard, but reflected deeply, talking it through with her parents and siblings. And she heard the reflections of people like you and others, that helped her find ways to think Christianly.

I have heard that when some of her peers in her High School Bible class or Huddle are quick to blithely give God credit for various tragedies that occur, on the presumption that he has some good purpose we just can’t see, she now tends to be one of those who says, “God didn’t do those things. But he wants to bring good out of them.” That has become her answer to the problem, I think. And it has become important to her that it be said — that well-intended, pious-seeming, but overly simple explanations for tragedy not be allowed to stand unchallenged. I think she knows that way more is at stake than the momentary comfort one-sided answers bring.

Her answer reminds me of Jesus with the man born blind (Jn 9), or the time he commented on the worshiping Galileans that Pilate slaughtered and the tower of Siloam that collapsed and killed people (Lk 13). There were obviously people who could tell you why those awful things happened and what God was up to in causing them. They wanted Jesus to deliver his view on that question but, as usual, Jesus won’t play their game. Instead, he redirects people’s thinking away from the business of sorting out why those things happened to focus on the significance of how people respond in the events’ aftermath, to participate in the ongoing work and glory of God. You see that all over scripture — the Bible is much more modest about determining who caused what than we tend to be, but it’s also very clear in stressing that the important thing to focus on is who we are to be in the midst of tragedy and pain.

I like Amara’s answer — though our family doesn’t have it all figured out, to be sure. The pain is still real, physically and spiritually. Amara’s youth ministers have learned that when Bible class includes some presentation of suffering or need she is likely to be one who asks the troublesome question, “Why does God let that happen to people, anyway?” We’re still asking the questions, some days more painfully than others. But over time, my answers to your first question are becoming our answer to this one too. “Did God cause this? Why did God do this?” soon receded, as a bad question. “Where is God at work in this now? Who does he want us to be in this?” came to the forefront as the question the Bible actually sanctions and that our experience showed us was being answered right in front of us. In the midst of experiences of death and pain God brings resurrection in hope and healing and his presence. That seems a Christianly way of thinking, to me. At least, it’s something I’ve been learning from my teenage daughter — along with which lip glosses are best, though I’m not finding that wisdom to be as helpful.

I don’t know that I’ve really answered your questions, but thanks for letting me share my rambling thoughts with you and your Blog community. It helps. Their prayers and messages have meant so much to us over the last 15 months. And thanks for being my faithful conversation partner during this time.

Lament Service

Published
by
Mike
on January 18, 2006
in Church, Highland, family, grief and the wreck
. 20 Comments

I’ve been to holiday grief seminars that were helpful. Any time you get people together to admit grief and to process, it’s helpful.

But what happened Sunday evening wasn’t just intellectually helpful. It was healing. When people come together to lament, to remember, to cry out, to pray, to claim hope, to hug, to weep, to laugh, to light candles, to sing, and to listen to Christian music–it goes way beyond helpful.

It’s an experience.

No wonder the psalms of Israel aren’t tame. Maybe you’ve heard that there are psalms of lament, of thanksgiving, of praise, etc. That’s right. Sort of. But the truth is that many of them include more than one response. You can move, for example, from thanksgiving to lament to anger to praise. In other words, they are real. At least I know for me, my emotions don’t come neatly packaged, one at a time.

It’s not just head info about the grief process that brings healing. It is community . . . and worship . . . and emotion . . . and trust . . . and symbol . . . and hope . . . and lament . . . and memory . . . and prayer.

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Tonight in “Oasis” I begin a two-week series I’m calling “Tiptoeing through the TULIP: Five Small Problems With Calvinism.”

Why Was I Crying?

Published
by
Mike
on January 16, 2006
in Megan, family, grief and the wreck
. 34 Comments

I got caught Saturday. During the previews before “Glory Road,” Chris glanced over at me and saw big, fat tears falling off my face. He asked, “Hey, Dad, why are you crying?”

To Chris, no preview could justify those tears — unless they were tears of joy for the release of the next Bourne movie or perhaps a discovery that King Kong II was being filmed.

I gave him a short, brush-off answer. It wasn’t the time or place.

But what I wanted to say was:

Because we’re here. In the dark. In this theater. And you’re sitting next to me. All week it’s been coming, and now that we’ve slowed down and you’re sitting next to me, the dam burst.

Because you could have died a year ago. Because I can still hear your mom sobbing, “O God, please not again.” Because you were beaten beyond recognition. Because we heard the Bourlands crying out in the hospital when they were told that Brody had died. Because I can still remember those nights in ICU at Cook’s with the Bennetts and the Lemmonses. Because I held my breath for 48 hours, waiting to see if you’d breathe on your own.

Because Jon Westin’s still on crutches.

But also because you’re all right. Because you didn’t have to stay in that wheelchair or that back brace. Because I saw you play football this fall, and because you’re playing point guard now. Because you’re an incredible young man who is loved by your peers and by all younger kids. Because we’re back to wrestling. Because the five of us got to hike all over the mountains of Colorado this summer. And because I can lose to you every day in P-I-G.

Because of how close we feel to the other families impacted by the wreck. Because of our love for Sarah, our beloved youth minister, who on the sixteenth day of her first fulltime ministry had to break the news to me and who has been an amazing help to people–with maturity way beyond her years–the past twelve months. Because of the Highland church (like the hundreds who came to cry, hug, pray, light candles, and remember last night). Because of Scott B.’s pastoral care, as we met with the six of you (Beth, Amara, Chris P., Austin, Jon Westin, and you) on Wednesday nights for several weeks after we were all home from the hospital to help you process the tragedy. Because of our spiritual family all around the world who prayed for you and the others (as still partially recorded on my 1-16-05 blog). Because I can still feel your brother’s hug when we met at Cook’s after he flew from Houston and I drove from Abilene (since only one parent could fly with you and it would have gotten ugly fast if I’d suggested to your mom that she not get in that plane!). Because I still remember Jenna’s tears as she cared tenderly for you–her brother-in-law for only seven months at the time. Because Dr. Jim loaded up and drove to Ft. Worth to watch over the three of you and your families himself (while letting those ER docs do their jobs). Because one of our elders, a physical therapist, came over to hold you steady while you showered and carefully bound back up your wounds. Because another of our elders, a teacher at Lincoln at the time, met you to help you up and down the stairs.

Because there’s no better sight for me than seeing you and your brother playing together–catch or basketball or Play Station–when he’s home.

Plus, sometimes grief gets confused. And I still cry about Megan.

That would have been the long answer. But no seventh grader wants to hear that with a bag of popcorn and a great sports movie coming on.

Thanks so much for your prayers for our church this past year.

Friday, January 13

Published
by
Mike
on January 13, 2006
in General and the wreck
. 10 Comments

Let me encourage you to check in at harvestboston.net. Steve has been writing about his experience at CSC in Abilene, working with one of my elders, Jim Clark, whom Steve calls “perhaps the most prayerful person I know.” This is rich stuff Steve’s writing. It’s Kingdom Lit 101.

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I sense that dark clouds are forming over my head as the one-year anniversary of the wreck approaches. I’ll reflect on that Monday. This Sunday evening we’ll have a service of memory and lament as we remember our losses (not just the losses from the wreck) from this past year. Because I anticipate it being a very emotional time for my family, I’ve asked two of our elders, Rob Cunningham and David Lang, and one of our ministers, Sarah Campbell, to lead the service.

The Glove is BACK!

Published
by
Mike
on September 7, 2005
in Baseball, family, sports and the wreck
. 13 Comments

For months Chris’s glove sat idle. As he recovered from a wreck — first in a wheelchair and then in a brace — it lay in the bottom of his baseball bag.

This old Wilson glove has been in our family since about 1992. I think we got it when Matt was ten. He wore it through major league and maybe junior league. Then, when Chris got old enough he started wearing it.

I’ve thrown tens of thousand of balls to that old glove, oiled it dozens of times, and had it re-strung a couple times.

Yesterday that glove was back on his left hand. It was a good sight. We’re thankful that recovery continues.

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Does e-mail save time or cost time?

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“There is more to life than increasing its speed.” Gandhi

Remembering Brody

Published
by
Mike
on August 4, 2005
in General and the wreck
. 6 Comments

Today, Brody Bourland would have been 12. He died in the January rollover sitting next to Chris P. and Chris C. We are especially praying for his parents and his brothers.

Six Months Later . . .

Published
by
Mike
on July 15, 2005
in Highland and the wreck
. 15 Comments

In three hours it will be July 16 — six months from a day we’ll never forget.

Diane was at the church building working on a project with the 6th grade girls she teaches on Wednesday night. I went to pick Chris up. I watched vehicle after vehicle pull into the parking lot with weary teenagers, exhausted from a long, sleep-deprived weekend, pile out. But the vehicle carrying my son never came. “Must have been at the end of the caravan,” I thought.

Then I caught eye contact with our wonderful new youth minister. I think she tried to hide the terror, but she couldn’t. These were kids she loved, too. And she — and only she at this moment — knew what had happened. It fell to her to start breaking the news that a certain group of families needed to go to Hendrick’s emergency room.

I went up to tell Diane. One of the hardest moments of my life. We had buried a daughter; fear filled us at the thought of having to face the loss of another child.

At the hospital, our little group of parents huddled in a waiting room, as we waited for the ambulances to arrive. Word came to two families that their children were being airlifted to Ft. Worth. Off they went. Then the others began to arrive.

My dear friend Jim Morrison, an ER physician, went into work when he heard about the accident even though he wasn’t on call. When Chris came in, Jim came to us trying to put on a brave face. He kept telling us that he looked pretty beat up but that they needed to do some tests. When we saw him — and I can hardly write this now — we couldn’t really recognize him. He’d be bludgeoned. That’s when we leaned into his ears and whispered love, prayer, and a childhood-favorite poem.

Very soon Jim delivered the good news that the CT-scan looked pretty good. There was a problem with a vertebrae, but the head looked good on the inside.

Shortly after that (or maybe it was during that time — it’s all pretty compressed), news came to the Bourlands that Brody had died. I have come to know Bret and Jennifer Bourland as two amazing people of faith — but even that doesn’t prepare you for such a loss.

Well, the story goes on, and I’ve written about it more than enough in the past.

But I’ll never forget that before I took off for Ft. Worth by car (since only one parent was allowed on the plane), I posted a note on this blog. January 16. And within hours, we had heard from people all over the world — people praying for all those who’d been injured and for the Bourlands.

I have no words to describe what that means.

Watch for an article in the Abilene Reporter-News (www.reporternews.com) with an update on Highland and these families six months after the wreck. I think it will be in tomorrow.

Travel Post-Wreck

Published
by
Mike
on June 11, 2005
in grief and the wreck
. 8 Comments

Thanks to Matt Ritchie for these words he wrote this morning on his blog:

A little over two hours ago, we put Levi, our oldest son, on a van that was headed to Houston for a youth mission trip. After January’s accident, I don’t think that I will ever take for granted that - when I send my kids away on a trip - they are guaranteed to come back in one piece.

It was tough watching them drive away, and Sheila didn’t even go. She was afraid that if she got upset, it would make it difficult for Levi to leave. I’m glad I got to go, though, because I witnessed something amazing this morning.

Mike and Diane Cope’s son, Chris, who was seriously injured in the January accident, climbed right into the same van with Levi, while his parents anxiously watched from a few feet away. Whatever Sheila and I are going through, it must be infinitely worse for these guys.

It was hard. We tried not to fixate on exactly where in the van he sat. I went home for a while and was fine. A buddy who’s an elder, probably knowing we’d be fear-full, came over for a while. Then I came to the church building for a while. And that’s when fear started to grip me. But about 10:00 it lifted. I quit praying just for a safe trip.

Somehow, a spirit of courage took over. I began praying about this trip to inner city Houston, remembering that three high school boys on graduation Sunday named it as one of the most formative parts of their spiritual journey. (That means it stuck with them five years — which at that age is like a couple decades at mine!) I’ve been praying now that God would use them to minister for Jesus; that God would open their eyes to see a world that isn’t safe and comfortable; that God would form my younger son to have the kind of heart for the downtrodden and poor that his older brother and sister-in-law have.

Even as we watched the vans drive off, we received word that another Abilene kid Chris’s age — a kid I’ve coached in basketball, a great kid with a smile that would light up the room — was killed last night. What I’ve heard is that he was out of town visiting his dad. Great sadness.

Rick Warren’s Letter

Published
by
Mike
on June 4, 2005
in justice, missional and the wreck
. 15 Comments

My most recent article in the Christian Standard can be found here.

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Here’s a letter that’s gone out to faith leaders from Rick Warren. What an amazing plan. I’ve already signed! (I would encourage you to sign here.)

June 3, 2005

Dear co-worker in Christ,

I have a simple request — but it could determine whether millions live or die.

You’ve probably read in the papers about “The ONE Campaign: To Make Poverty History” that’s been endorsed by a wide coalition of folks from all across the faith and political spectrum. Helping the hurting is something we all want to do.

I’ve never been involved in partisan politics — and don’t intend to do so now — but global poverty is an issue that rises far above mere politics. It is a moral issue … a compassion issue … and because Jesus commanded us to help the poor, it is an obedience issue! He told us to do all we can to alleviate the pain of our brothers and sisters: “Inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.” (Matthew 25:40, NKJV)

That’s why John Stott, Billy Graham, and many other evangelical leaders are joining me in lending our names and prayers to this campaign. I deeply believe that if we as evangelicals remain silent and do not speak up in defense of the poor, we lose our credibility and our right to witness about God’s love for the world: “If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him?” (1 John 3:17, NIV)

We are blessed to be a blessing to others, and certainly America, as the most blessed nation on our planet, has the greatest obligation to help those who are stuck in poverty around the world. Last month, I was in Kenya and Uganda, and then in Rwanda where the average income in that nation is 67 cents a day! Imagine trying to raise a family on that.

If you were hopelessly in debt, with no chance of ever getting out of debt — or even your children getting out of debt — you’d despair. But if someone cancelled all your debts — as the Bible commanded Israel to often do — you’d have the hope of a new future. The poor aren’t asking for a handout — they just need a hand up!

This summer, at the G8 conference, our nation has a historic opportunity to lead the world by showing a visible and significant commitment to the fight against global poverty, hunger, and disease. In early July, President Bush will gather together with leaders from the world’s eight wealthiest nations in Edinburgh, Scotland, to discuss these very issues — especially in Africa.

We all grieved when 250,000 lives were lost in the tsunami in Southeast Asia. But there is a health tsunami of that proportion in Africa every 12 days!

What can we do? For the past two years, I’ve had 4,500 of our Saddleback members quietly testing a prototype of our global P.E.A.C.E. Plan in 47 countries. It is a strategy for small groups in churches to show compassion. Once we have the template perfected, we’ll share it with every church that’s interested.

But there is something much simpler that you can do right now: Join me and other evangelical leaders in an open letter to President Bush that encourages him — with our support and prayers — to take specific, measurable actions to fight poverty, hunger, and disease at the G8 summit. Below is a copy of the text of this open letter we’re sending.

All I need you to do is e-mail me back at rick@peace.gs giving your name and title, and I’ll add your name to the list. Also you can visit www.one.org for more information.

If you can send a copy of your signature (preferably in a jpeg format) to add to the bottom of the letter, that would be great, but don’t let that delay your response. We’d rather hear from you now.

Thanks in advance for showing your compassion for those suffering from disease, hunger, and poverty.

May God bless your ministry,

Dr. Rick Warren
Pastor, Saddleback Church
Author, The Purpose Driven Life

———————-Original Message —————————

June 1, 2005

The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW
Washington, DC 20500

Dear President Bush,

Because:

· ONE billion people around the world live on less than ONE dollar a day;
· The US government spends less than ONE percent of its budget on fighting global AIDS and poverty;
· Americans are uniting as ONE across political and religious divides to support action to overcome the emergency of global AIDS and extreme poverty.

At the G8 leaders meeting on July 6th we urge you to:

· Help the poorest people of the world fight poverty, disease, and hunger at a cost equal to just ONE percent more of the US budget on a clear timetable;
· Cancel 100% of the debts owed by the poorest countries;
· Reform trade rules so poor countries can earn sustainable incomes.

We urge you to lead an historic deal with other nations to help Africa and the poorest nations overcome global AIDS and extreme poverty. Together as ONE, we can Make Poverty History this July.

Sincerely, U.S. Faith Leaders

Car Pool, Light Sabers, and Indoor Horse

Published
by
Mike
on May 27, 2005
in family and the wreck
. 22 Comments

Finally, this week Chris was able to get back into carpool, for the last four days of school. He still can’t carry a backpack, but one of his buddies lugged it in for him.

So yesterday, the final Thursday of the year, I got to drive the gang for the first time since the wreck. And I was out of sync. I had forgotten the “Beach Boys.” So we went with CCR, which I prefer but they don’t.

When they got out at noon (early release), I took them to Mr. Gatti’s to celebrate. We were there with, apparently, most Abilene middle school students. One of the boys asked why there were policemen there. I wanted to know why the National Guard hadn’t been called in.

This was not the sixth grade year we anticipated. The fall went so well, and then that trip to Winterfest in January. It’s all still a fuzz. Often I have to fight reliving the first disorienting hour, waiting for the ambulances to arrive.

I don’t know what’s ahead for Chris. Despite being in Cook’s for ten days, missing school through Spring Break, returning to school in a wheelchair, wearing a back brace, missing baseball — despite all that, he has been amazing. Seldom has he thrown a pity party. He’s moved from outside basketball, which he can’t play yet, to inside basketball. (SEE, I KNEW MY BIG GOAL IN OUR LIVING ROOM BELONGED!) Every night we have a few games of “horse.” This is sometimes followed by a little light saber practice.

I can hardly bring myself to write this, but my little boy almost died in a Yukon just outside Putnam, TX. I’m so thankful he didn’t.