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Indelibly Marked

March 28, 2013 By Leave a Comment

I am sorry that it has been so long since I have posted a blog entry. Ministry, school, teaching, and family commitments have kept me from touching base for a while. In addition to my counseling ministry, I have now begun serving as a guest on a local Christian radio show where I discuss mental health issues in the church. On my first show, in the middle of one of my responses, I received a text message from a friend of mine named Aaron. (By the way, Aaron should have been called Barnabas for his continual encouragement since he showers me with it at every opportunity.)  If I recall the message it went something like this, “Cheer up, even though the host isn’t letting you talk, there are only three of us listening anyway!”

Oh, did I also mention that Aaron and his bride Susanne are the proud parents of three beautiful daughters (thank the Lord, they look like their mother) and that their youngest daughter has autism and is classmates with our son Fletcher? I bring this up to show that God often provides fellow travelers who come alongside us as we negotiate the unpredictable twists and turns presented to those blessed enough to have a child with a hidden disability. The scriptures say, “As iron sharpens iron, one man sharpens another,” and although our wives would agree that we’re both still pretty dull, I think that our weekly lunch meetings are producing spiritual growth in both of us.

In this sanctifying process, you might ask, “What deep theological truths related to autism are you guys discovering?” Well the topics vary, but you may hear something about Tennessee football, Wayne Grudem’s height, which of us would look the coolest with Puritan hair, fully-sanctified wives, or self-parenting children, but you won’t hear a whole lot about autism. Why? Because that is a subject that has so indelibly marked us that we usually find it is unnecessary to discuss; however, what you will find is a great deal of humor, fellowship, and laughing. As a result, the tone of our lunch meetings looks less like a pity party and more like a diner scene from Seinfeld.

Don’t misunderstand me. We talk a great deal about Sarah and Fletcher; but, we talk about them as people not diagnostic labels. As I think about these lunchtime conversations with Aaron, his sarcastic wit and dry humor remind me that Dads sporting these indelible marks are so much more than fathers of children with autism. These guys are administrators of God’s grace (1 Pet 4:10) used by God for our good and His glory as they walk alongside of fellow sufferers along a life path not of their choosing. What does this mean for those of you reading this post? It means this: do not isolate yourself; instead reach out to other parents of children with similar challenges. Ask God to use you to minister to them and I will guarantee you that you will end up being the one who feels blessed. And who knows, you may strike up a friendship with a Barnabas of your own!

~ Todd

Filed Under: Autism, Encouragement, Friends, FUN

The Savagery of Shark Week

August 13, 2012 By 2 Comments

As I sit here composing this entry, my son Fletcher and I are celebrating the Discovery Channel’s twenty-fifth year of Shark Week. For some reason, this is one of the few television programs that catch our little man’s attention. Go figure.  Some children are content with Barney or Veggie Tales, but not Fletch. Nothing less than a two ton shark propelling out of the water while chasing a terrified seal will do! The violence and single-mindedness of these Great White Sharks astounds me.

As I think about my son, I wonder why I do not chase the promises of God as ferociously as these sharks chase their prey. The sharks are simply doing what comes natural to them. As a child of the King, why then do I struggle to do what is supposed to come naturally to me? Perhaps, at the deepest level of my heart, I really don’t have trouble believing that the promises of God apply; they just don’t seem to apply to me.

Now that hurts to admit this shortcoming in such a public forum; but I feel that I am not the only one who struggles in this area. But as I watch these sharks more closely, I notice that once they lock in on their targets, tunnel vision consumes them. Nothing else matters except getting the seal. The shark doesn’t worry about teachers, IEP’s, church, or impending social situations; the shark focuses on the seal.

Maybe I can learn something from these creatures. Maybe I can learn to keep my focus on the object of my pursuit. The author of Hebrews encourages us to do that very thing:

[12:1] Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, [2] looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. (ESV)

The next time I am feeling a little down or frustrated because things haven’t turned out the way I had planned, I need to keep “looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of my faith.” The next time I get upset because people don’t understand, I must remember to ruthlessly clamp down on Jesus’ promises by sinking my spiritual teeth deeply into them. Only then will I truly be able to taste and see that the Lord is good (Ps 34:8)!

~ Todd

Filed Under: Blessing, Challenge, Confession, Contentment, Faith, growth, humility, IEP, Parenting, Provision, Trust, Uncategorized

And They’rrrre Off!

July 21, 2012 By Leave a Comment

Our children grow up too quickly. It was only yesterday that I was changing the diaper on our first son Tucker. Actually, it was fourteen years ago. Now, I see him only when he is on the way to the refrigerator or when he needs to discuss the deeper things that matter in life; you know… girls. At the same time, our younger son Fletcher has kept up with his big brother in the growth department. Lets just say that Fletcher will never be confused for a jockey. This doesn’t mean that Fletch doesn’t enjoy horseback riding. Well, at least it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t like his Daddy being the horse.

This used to be a great deal of fun for me. I would get home from a long day at work and Fletch would come in the room, climb up on the ottoman, turn me around, jump on my back, and then we’d be off to the races. As the years have passed though, the jockey has gotten too portly and the stallion needs to be put out to pasture. He jumped on my back the other night and I thought I was carrying a sack of wet cement! I don’t know where he found those rocks for his pockets, but at a dense 110 pounds, Fletch is a formidable rider for all but the heartiest Clydesdales.

Reflecting on this, I know that it won’t be too many years before Dad’s pony rides will come to a conclusion. I’ll be too old and Fletch will be too big. Some parents might feel excited about their kids moving on from such childlike games; but I say this with a twinge of sadness because I truly love his giggle as we ride through the frontier of our home.

These days, instead of galloping down our hallway as Fletcher’s trusty steed, I now have to stagger under his enormous weight. As I trot at my rider’s behest, I now feel muscles tear that I forgot that I owned. As I struggle to stay on my feet, I feel the desire to set Fletcher down. But just as I want to bring our game to an end, I remember Jesus’ words to his disciples: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

As I ponder this passage, I come to a new conclusion: Fletcher isn’t a burden, he’s my boy! With renewed resolve, I’d like to go for another gallop; but I need to get my hamstring checked first!

~ Todd

Filed Under: Autism, Challenge, Family, Hope, humility, Parenting, Relationships, rest

Preaching in the Valley

June 3, 2012 By Leave a Comment

In our journey with autism, we are continually amazed at the ways God uses our son Fletcher to preach His word. Our last worship service took place at our local children’s hospital where Brenda and I took Fletcher for an EEG. Before explaining Fletcher’s sermon, I will briefly explain our reason for the visit.

In addition to his autism, Fletcher also struggles with epilepsy. The epilepsy surfaced a couple of years ago when Fletcher experienced a seizure at school that resulted in a trip to the emergency room. A few days later, Fletcher had another seizure and the doctors decided to place him on anti-seizure medication. Since Fletcher is a growing boy, the doctors want to monitor the efficacy of his medicine that can only be accomplished through an EEG.

We arrived at the hospital at 6:30 a.m. and Fletcher’s pensive body language signaled that he had remembered his last trip to the facility. Fletcher’s anxiety initially emerged when the admissions person attempted to place the identification bracelet on his wrist. When the lady produced the bracelet, Fletcher buried his face in my side and hugged me like a desperate man hugs a tree in a tornado. The closer the lady came, the tighter Fletcher clung to his “Dada.” In fear, Fletcher took his refuge in his father.

During that moment, Fletcher embodied Psalm 56:3 which states, “ When I am afraid, I put my trust in you”(ESV). Of course, at the time, I was more concerned with what I would need to do if his test brought disappointing results. How would I be strong for Brenda? What would be our next step in getting Fletch the help he needed? Instead of clinging to Christ, I was contemplating my possible courses of action. Fletcher and I clung desperately to the same person: ME!

It was only after the doctor explained the results of the test to Brenda that I had time to relax and reflect on the day’s events. Fletcher did instinctively what three seminary degrees and a decade of pastoral ministry has still not taught me. When he experienced fear, he clung to his father. As I walk with this red headed speechless preacher through the Valley of Autism, I am amazed at how God uses him to preach His word to me. Hopefully, one day, I will learn to listen.

~ Todd

Filed Under: Anxiety, Autism, Confession, Epilepsy, humility Tagged With: ,

Preaching the Gospel by “Doing Nothing”

March 25, 2012 By Leave a Comment

Famed Welsh medical doctor and minister Martin Lloyd-Jones tells the story of his mother’s reaction to his first sermon. When Martin asked his mother for her impressions of his oratory, his mother looked lovingly at him and said, “My dear son, you missed several wonderful opportunities to sit down.”

Lloyd-Jones’ propensity for the excessive use of words reminds me of my interactions with Fletcher. Since my little man is non-verbal, I will tend to supply his words for him. “We” have wonderful conversations on most days. However, there are some mornings that he lets me know, albeit not as kindly as Mrs. Lloyd-Jones, that I have missed several opportunities to close my mouth.

On one recent school morning, Brenda was having a time getting Fletcher ready. He had not slept well the previous evening and he was whining, crying, and screaming as she tried to get him dressed. It was so loud that it shook the walls in our home and moved me to leave the sanctuary of my devotional time to investigate the cause of the uproar.

As I entered the room, Brenda gave me that look that said, “If you love me, and you don’t want me to kill you, you will do something with this little demon!” Then she did the most unsettling thing – she had the audacity to leave the room! I thought, “Uh oh, what am I going to do now?”

With my mind racing, I sat on the couch beside my little troublemaker. As I sat there, I tried to think about what I could do that would settle him down. To be honest, it was difficult to concentrate with him screaming, but I just sat there beside him, deep in thought about how to help.

Then the most extraordinary thing happened. Fletch moved closer to me and started gently rubbing my arm. This surprised me; I then thought, “Hey, if this will shut him up, I’ll keep doing nothing.” It was astounding. As I sat there “doing nothing,” he settled down, and a few minutes later his mother returned and easily prepared him for school.

Of course, she was astonished by my exceptional parenting skills. I even earned the nickname The Fletch Whisperer. (Of course, my pride forbade me to let her think any differently!) But the truth is, I comforted Fletcher by simply “doing nothing.”

As I reflected on this experience, God helped me see that sometimes the most important thing we can give our children is the gift of our presence. Saint Francis of Assisi once said that, “We should preach the gospel everyday, and when necessary, use words.” I think that Fletcher has helped me better understand this profound truth.

In addition to my little fair-haired mentor, the scriptures also demonstrate how this “preaching the gospel by doing nothing” comforts those in agony. Think about Job’s friends. They hear this horrible news about their friend, they come to see him, and things are so awful, that all they can do is sit there with Job in his pain (Job 2:11-13). As long as their mouths stayed closed, they comfort their beleaguered friend; but, as soon as they begin speaking, Job’s condition rapidly deteriorates.

As you think about the ways that you show the love of Jesus to your children, I want to encourage you to spend a portion of your week by preaching the gospel to them by “doing nothing.” They will love you for it, your spouse will think you are the best parent ever (which of course you are), and your Savior will smile and lovingly rain his grace down upon you.

~ Todd

Filed Under: Autism, humility, humor, intimacy, Parenting, Relationships, Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , ,

Changes: A Decade of Autism

February 7, 2012 By Leave a Comment

Birthdays are more than chronological dates on a calendar. These moments in time spur us to remember the past and reflect on the future. Our youngest son Fletcher celebrated his tenth birthday recently. As such, I found myself thinking through how things have changed for me as this first decade of autism draws to a close.

As I thought about these past ten years, I found myself gazing at pictures that commemorated stops along the way. As I looked at these old pictures, I am reminded of how I have changed from the young man in the family album.

The young man in the photos truly believed that through determination, hard work, and education, he could change the world. Driven by a father who told him, “Son, you can be and do anything in this life you choose to do,” this young man sought to prove his father’s proclamation. However, along the way something called autism changed him.

Physical Changes

First, I noticed that my body has undergone change during our decade of autism. For one thing, Fletcher has made me much fitter over this time. When our little red tornado came to us, I was sixty pounds heavier. My fear of not being around to care for him has spurred me to become an avid treadmill walker during the past decade. I have run three half-marathons in that time and look more like a distance runner than a former collegiate football playing defensive lineman.

Another startling fact that I discovered in the pictures is that over the years, my hairline has pursued the nape of my neck more relentlessly than Sherman’s March to the Sea. Although troubling to most males, this doesn’t overly concern me for when I had hair, it tended to mimic the mane sported by Cosmo Kramer in the old Seinfeld episodes. As a result, being follicle-challenged has been a blessing and not a bane for me.

Mental Changes

Second, I noticed that my estimation of my abilities has changed over these years. When I look into the eyes of Fletcher’s dad back in 2002, I see a person who believed that he was a force of nature. When I see Fletcher’s dad in the mirror now, I am reminded of his frailty as one of God’s creatures in daily need of God’s grace and mercy. Some might call this a growth in wisdom; others may name it a growth in experience. Whatever you call it, I know that I am not as “smart” as I was a decade ago.

Relational Changes

Third, I noticed a difference in the other two members of our tribe. Our son Tucker, who was only three at Fletcher’s birth, can now look his old man straight in the eye. He has developed into  a quick-witted and caring young man. I cannot help but think that in some way, Christ is using Fletcher’s situation to craft his big brother into a man who will one day become a caring husband and father.

Another change that I have noticed is how my bride Brenda looks more radiant to me than the day she ran down the aisle to marry me. As I think about my two decades with Brenda, I cannot think of another who I would rather work on living out Ephesians 5 with for the rest of my life.

Eternal Changes

Fourth, as I gaze at these pictures, I think about Jesus. I think about how I have had the joy of telling others about Him as He gives me grace through Fletcher’s smile. God seems to know that Fletcher’s grin serves as manna for me on hungry days, and those days, like His manna, never seem to end.

I think about the IEP meeting I just left this morning and how everyone has “seen” the gospel (although clumsily incarnated) through my consistently loving them and continually mentioning His “message” during our meetings.

I think about how Christ has helped me see the beauty in the small steps that Fletcher has taken over the past decade and of the large ones he will take in eternity; a hope that I owe to a merciful Nazarene carpenter from antiquity who took my little boy’s name to the cross with Him (Matt 19:14).

And finally, I think about the satisfaction I receive when I have the opportunity to glorify Christ as I serve my precious little boy. Attending IEP meetings, changing diapers, holding him when he is scared, are not bothersome when I remember Paul’s admonition: “So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31 ESV). I am comforted in these duties because it is in them that I truly feel the presence of Christ (Isa 41:10).

Well, that is enough for now. Fletch will be arriving home from school soon and there are tasks that I must complete. Before I leave you, please allow this foolish, balding, shell of a man to encourage you by saying, “Make everyday with your child a special one. Because, it is through serving your child that you can feel the comforting presence of Christ as He says, “fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” (Isaiah 41:10 ESV).

~ Todd

Filed Under: Autism, Change, Family, God's presence, grace, growth, Hope, IEP, Parenting Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Rethinking Normalcy

January 14, 2012 By Leave a Comment

I recently talked with a friend who had served for the first time in our church’s special needs ministry. After the service, I asked him about his experience in working with our children. He looked at me with amazement and said, “You know, these kids are so, well, so NORMAL!” It’s amazing how many people draw this same conclusion when they finally get to know our children on a personal level. This was great to hear, but my friend’s comment resonated with me and took me down the path of thinking, “Who are NORMAL people?”

The very word NORMAL carries with it the idea of adhering to a standard or “norm.” The challenge comes when we try to determine which standard we should use in our development of that norm. As a counselor, I could define my son as “299.00 Autistic Disorder.” I could then see how he compared to those without this description and determine whether he was NORMAL.

As I thought about this approach, I decided that something seemed missing in its methodology. Because, regardless of how wonderfully descriptive the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) may be, somehow its description of Fletcher didn’t do justice to the wonderment I witnessed in my friend’s eyes.

Where could I turn to get a more robust description of NORMAL? Then it hit me; I decided to go back to the beginning. I reasoned that if anyone would be considered NORMAL, it would have to be Adam before the fall. As I opened my Bible, I thought, “What can I learn about this NORMAL man Adam?”

As I reflected on Genesis 2, I quickly saw five criteria that explained the pre-fall Adam and hence, the NORMAL person. First, the NORMAL person is a physical creation with a material body (2:7a). Adam occupied space on the earth; he was not a disembodied spirit. Therefore, he had a body.

Second, the NORMAL person is a spiritual creation with a soul (2:7b). God breathed life into Adam and he became a living soul. Adam was more than a composition of DNA; he had a God-breathed inner life, an inner life capable of producing affections, thoughts, and desires.

Third, the NORMAL person is a productive creation who enjoys working at one thing or another (2:15). Adam enjoyed tending God’s garden and caring for His creation.

Fourth, the NORMAL person is a moral creation who answers to God (2:16-17). Adam depended on God and followed his instructions.

Finally, the NORMAL person is a social creation who has been wired for relationships (2:18). Adam needed Eve to be complete.

From this brief narrative, I constructed the following biblical criteria for a NORMAL person. A NORMAL person is a:

(1) Material creation
(2) Spiritual creation
(3) Working creation
(4) Moral creation
(5) Relational creation

As I thought about Fletcher, I found that he fit the Bible’s definition of NORMAL more accurately than he did “299.00 Autistic Disorder.” Whereas Fletch fit a majority of the DSM’s criteria for his description, he fit the Bible’s criteria perfectly.

As I was pondering this definition of NORMAL, I looked down and saw Fletcher sitting on the living room floor (criterion 1), his heart filled with joy (criterion 2), contentedly occupying himself with a book (criterion 3), then obediently responding as I summoned him (criterion 4), and playfully hugging me (criterion 5). As I held my little man, I saw what NORMAL really looked like. Like my friend, my interaction with Fletcher brought a smile to my face and I found myself desiring to reach the level of normalcy that my son had already achieved.

Perhaps we need to rethink what it means to be NORMAL. As you think about your special child, always remember that DSM labels, although descriptive, can never fully capture what it means to be human. For that description, look for the biblical criteria in your child; you’ll get an encouraging picture of what it means to be truly NORMAL.

~ Todd

Filed Under: Autism, Diagnosis, Uncategorized Tagged With: , ,

God’s Grace and Patient Zero

December 26, 2011 By Leave a Comment

The Hardin household is once again entering that special time of year. I am not talking about the Yuletide season; no, I am talking about the cold and flu season. What do I mean by that? Lets just say that our son Fletcher is a very giving young man, and it never fails that he “gifts” me at least one sickness during this time of year. You may be thinking, “If you know that this tends to happen every year, why don’t you do something about it?”

That is a good question, and its answer is slightly complicated. You see, there are several things about Fletcher, our relationship, and me that make my proclivity toward illness as predictable as Christmas falling on the 25th of December.

First, Fletcher deals with apraxia, a disorder in which he tends to put everything, and I mean everything, in his mouth. This of course means he tends to store germs in his jaws like a manic squirrel stores acorns on a late autumn day.

Second, although Fletcher is non-verbal, that does not mean he cannot communicate. Fletch tends to mimic Judge Reinhold’s guest character on the sitcom Seinfeld by being a “bit of a close talker.” Said another way, he often attempts to communicate with me by placing his forehead against mine while giggling joyously at one thing or another. This provides me with plenty of opportunities to receive anything that Fletch may have for me.

Third, Fletch demands that he and Dad have their “wrestle time” every single day. Now sometimes big brother Tucker stands in for me, but for the most part, Fletcher doesn’t feel complete until he and I have had our bonding time, a time that was so much easier for me when I was younger and he was smaller. His persistence in wrestling me cannot be avoided; he will grab me by the hand and pull me over on the couch until he has had his fill (usually around 15-20 minutes) of connected time with Dada.

Fourth, I have never met a cold virus that my body didn’t want to promote to a full-blown case of sinusitis. Whereas my little Patient Zero will bring a cold home, he rarely ceases to function at less than optimal speed for more than a day or so. Me on the other hand, will get really sick for a few days, the kind of sick where I find myself making deals with God much like Burt Reynolds’ character in the movie The End. You know what I am talking about, “God, if you allow me to breathe  through my nose again, I promise to give you 100% of everything I earn for the rest of my life!” You may be thinking, “If Fletcher makes you so sick, why do you go around him when you think he has a cold?”

There are three reasons:

1. I love my son. The Scriptures say, “love covers a multitude of sins” (1 Peter 4:8). As I have grown in my relationship with Fletcher, I now have a slight appreciation for those pastors who ministered to afflicted people during times of plague and disease.

2. I love my God. When I interact with my disease-ridden little fellow I am serving him and meeting his emotional needs. I do this not only because he needs me, but also I do it because that is what I am supposed to do. Fletcher needs his “wrestle time” as badly as the wounded man needed the Good Samaritan’s compassion (Luke 10:30-37).

3. I trust my Jesus. Although I am the biggest wimp in the world when it comes to being ill, fortunately, I don’t have to rely upon my own strength during such times. Jesus’ words to Paul are Jesus’ words for me: “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me (2 Corinthians 12:9).” No matter what I am exposed to, I know that Christ will give me the grace to get through it, including anything that Fletch may give me.

With these things stated, I must go for now. I can hear Fletch’s fiendish laugh as he’s coming down the hall. It’s time for another round of wrestling. Before this impending Battle Royale, I need to go take another antibiotic because Fletch looks determined to win this time!

~ Todd

Filed Under: Autism, Challenge, Family, FUN, grace, humor, Parenting, Relationships, Trust Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

The Silliness of Street Cred

November 21, 2011 By Leave a Comment

As a counselor, God has given me the privilege of ministering to individuals afflicted with various types of struggles. One common problem that I see often is that of addiction. In working with people struggling with addiction, I have learned that no one can capture the addict’s devotion like a former addict. Since I have no history of addiction, I sometimes encounter addicts who would prefer to see other counselors. Earlier in my counseling career, this used to offend me because I felt that I had the answers if I could only get an audience. Generally though, the problem was that I simply did not have any “street cred” with addicts. I remember thinking, “I can’t believe the selfishness in these people! How dare they say that I can’t help them just because I don’t know what it is like to be an addict!?”

Fast forward to life after Fletcher’s autism diagnosis. Now, I find myself sitting with friends listening to them talk about their struggles. For example, Suzy can’t believe that her daughter didn’t make cheerleader. Joe is worried about his son not being accepted at Harvard and Phyllis can’t bear the thought of her child being overlooked for next month’s mission trip to Myrtle Beach. Depending on my mood, I often find myself thinking, “Who are these people? They’re talking about all of these ‘horrible’ things mean while, I’m still trying to recover from my 3:00 a.m. cleaning of the remnants of one of Fletch’s dirty diapers from the walls of his room! These people just don’t get it!”

At first glance it would seem that these people do not have any street cred with me. As I examine my reaction to them more closely, I realize that I have more in common with the addict than I have with my friends. The only difference is that the addict is more open and honest about his struggle than I am about mine. Despite this difference, the addict and I do share a common heart problem: pride. Instead of singing, “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen, nobody knows my sorrow,” perhaps it would be helpful to turn to someone who could offer me a clearer perspective on my troubling affliction.

Puritan pastor Richard Sibbes surgically slices into my shortcoming when he writes:

“A humble heart is a vessel of all graces … It doth better the soul and make it holy, for the soul is never fitter for God than when it is humbled … [A] humble heart hath in it a spiritual emptiness. Humility emptieth the heart for God to fill it” (p. 51).

As I think about Suzy, Joe, and Phyllis, I must understand that their pain is real. How can I expect them to understand my sorrows until I have loved them enough to understand theirs? I cannot cleanse their wounds of suffering if my heart is a spring of selfishness. With that said, Sibbes now confronts me with two possible heart-states, one of which I must choose:

“The proud swelling heart, that is full of ambition, high conceits, and self-dependence, will not endure to have God to enter; but he dwells largely and easily in the heart of an humble man” (p. 51).

Perhaps instead of swelling my heart by dwelling on my circumstances, I should try to lance my pain by seeing Suzy, Joe, and Phyllis through the eyes of Christ. Maybe I should stop worrying about them having street cred with me and start focusing on me having Christ cred with them. How can this be done? There are three simple steps that I must practice if I want to develop Christ cred:

1. Look to the interest of others (Phil. 2: 4)

2. Labor to think of others as Christ thinks of them (Phil. 2:5)

3. Love them by sacrificially serving them in their times of need (Phil. 2:8)

As I follow this path, the putrid pride in my heart will give way to flowing streams of grace and mercy that will not only glorify God, but will honor my son by conforming his father into a man who will one day be worthy of the title “Fletcher’s Dad.” For now though, I must go. I must fervently begin praying for Suzy, Joe, and Phyllis because they need the comfort of Christ much more than I do during this dark time in their lives.

~ Todd

Sibbes, R. (1983). Works of Richard Sibbes, volume six. Edinburgh, UK: Banner of Truth Trust.

Filed Under: Autism, Confession, humility, Parenting, pastor/clergy, Prayer, Relationships Tagged With: , , , , ,

Doing The Lord’s Work on a Dreary Day

November 5, 2011 By 3 Comments

Where can you turn on the darker days? Last Sunday, I am pretty sure the sun didn’t come up at all on our family. It started in Sunday School. Fletcher got up on the wrong side of the bed and was having a terrible time. When Brenda went to get him after the service, he slapped his teacher during a mini-meltdown. (The teacher is a real trooper, an authentic blessing from God, and she didn’t let it bother her.) However, things got worse as Brenda took our little Red Tornado to the car; for in the parking lot Fletcher started “noodling.” You know, going completely limp and falling to the ground. This made things difficult for Brenda since Fletch weighs almost as much as she does. To put a cherry on top of this blessed experience, Fletch bit my bride as she tried to pick him up.

All of this may cause you to wonder, “Where were you during these festivities?” Well, as a pastor, I was “doing the Lord’s work.” Brenda kept me updated on the unfolding drama via text as I tried to concentrate on my counseling obligations for the day. By the time I arrived home that afternoon, it seemed as though Fletcher’s tantrum had vanished and he was his typical jovial self. Brenda however, looked as though she had been wandering in the desert for the better part of a month. As I walked in the door, I received that, “Thank the Lord you’re home look.” As we talked about the events of the day, I became painfully aware that Depression had made a visit to Brenda’s heart. This left me in a difficult position. How could I bring the light of Christ to Brenda as she sat there in the darkness?

Here is the most important lesson that she taught me: I simply need to sit there and listen. Listening is a funny thing; for by it, God has a way of helping you find Christ in the midst of chaos. As I heard Brenda recount the events of the story, I realized that I could not deliver her from her pain. However, as I thought about it, my mind wandered to Someone who could.

I thought about Psalm 42-43. In this lament Psalm, the writer repeats the following refrain three times:

[11] Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation and my God. (Psalm 42:11 ESV)

The writer of this psalm was like Brenda. Both felt trapped and taunted. What can God teach those in this situation? This Psalm helps all of us return to the basics for weathering turbulent times. Here are the A-B-C’s of “darkness management:”

A. Accept the reality of the situation: “Why are you cast down, O my soul.” Yes, Fletcher can be that bad. There is no denying the fact that his tantrums can be overwhelming at times.

B. Believe in the God of hope: “Hope in God.” Although in the darkness, Brenda must place her trust in the steadfast loving nature (Ps 136) of her covenant keeping God (Deut 7:9). God will eventually deliver her, not because of what she has done, but because of His very character.

C. Confess her faith as she awaits her Deliverer. “[F]or I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.” As Brenda awaits Jesus’ intervention into her struggle, she will begin to feel renewed.

This waiting patiently for deliverance motif reminded me of another person who struggled in the darkness. On the first page of his book Man’s Search for Meaning, Nazi concentration camp survivor Victor Frankl (2006) quoted Nietzsche: “He who has a Why to live for can bear almost any How” (p. ix, italics added). As Brenda sees the “why” of Fletcher’s autism (see John 9:1-3), she will find comfort in God’s “how” (see 2 Cor 12:9) of weathering our little boy’s tantrums. My job as her husband is to listen to her, love her, and lead her toward any small vestige of light that I see in the distance. As I think about it, this duty is by far the most important “work of the Lord” that I could ever hope to do.

~ Todd

Frankl, V. E. (2006). Man’s search for meaning. Boston, MA: Beacon Press.

Filed Under: Autism, Depression, God's presence, Marriage, Parenting Tagged With: , , , , ,
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