Parkinsence

Parkincense Mountain

16 June 2000

One of my greatest memories growing up was climbing a mountain in Alaska with my father, brother, uncle, and cousin.  I learned a number of things about life in climbing that mountain that have been influences ever since. 

One reality I learned was that one cannot always see the true top of a mountain, the real peak, while climbing it.  Sometimes there are lesser peaks in front of the greater peak.  When one reaches one of the lesser peaks one is faced with a decision – to be satisfied with the lesser peak, and the lesser view, or to press on towards the greater, higher peak.

 The part that makes it not an easy decision is the fact that to go upward one must first go downward.  There is always a valley between the lesser and higher peaks.  There is no way to get to the higher peak without first going down into, and through, the valley.

In Alaska, the mountain we were on had 3 peaks, each hidden by the one in front of it.  At each peak the view, and the glory of it, was great.  As the day wore on and we became more tired, the decision to press on toward the next peak became harder.  Would the work required to get to the next peak be worth it?  Would the view really be that much greater?

 When we finally reached the true peak, it was, for me, simply glorious.  I still vividly remember it.  We were up with the clouds.  They touched us as they went by.  The view was spectacular.  And there was something about standing there, on the very highest rock of that mountain, that was exhilarating.  

 What we didn’t realize while climbing, while reaching the lesser peaks with their own great views, was that the far greater view was the other direction, the view the higher peak hid from the lesser peaks.  It had everything the lesser peaks had, plus so much more. 

 That mountain experience has always been the glorious visual for me of one of my favorite passages in my favorite book, Philippians 3, v13, 14: 

 “Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

It’s a mountain thing.

 Since that mountain in Alaska, mountains have come to play a much more important role in my life.  What I now enjoy most is climbing to the top of a mountain and spending time with God there.  He seems to meet one there in a special way.  It’s the best way, place, I know to seek God on the hard questions, decisions, of life.  It is where I like to go “give” things to Him.  And …it’s just my favorite place to spend time with Him.

 I love the words of God to Moses: “…come up in the morning …and present yourself there to Me on the top of the mountain.” (Ex 34 v2)  And I desire the result of Moses’ spending time with God: “Thus the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, just as a man speaks to his friend.” (Ex 33 v11)

For many years, I would go to a mountain that overlooks Lake Pepin on the Mississippi, south of Lake City.  (O.K., if you’re from Colorado, you would call it a hill, but it is shaped like a mountain, has a sort-of tree line, and even has a rock outcropping at its “peak” – it worked for me …and for God).  I would go there to spend a weekend, a day, or just a few hours with God.  It is where I would, invariably, “present”, give (regive), my life to Him.  They were great times. 

 After my first trip to Russia the summer of 93, having many questions of what God was now leading, calling, me to do with my life, I knew I needed a mountain.  I needed to get away from everything concerning my everyday life to meet with and spend time with God, to seek Him and His purposes, desires, for me.  I took off for the “mountains” of the North Shore of Lake Superior.  The time with God was rich.  But, as I drove home along a beautifully and perfectly calm Lake Superior (it mirrored my spirit), I told God, “It was a great time, but You didn’t answer my question.”  There was something missing, but I did not know what it was.

After returning to Russia two more times in 94, I was still uncertain about what this all meant or what God really was calling me to do.  I decided I needed to again take some extended time to get away and be with Him.  I made November my deadline to do so.  By the end of October, however, I still hadn’t taken the time.  I was frustrated that the things of life were again crowding out spending time with God.  I didn’t even know where I should go.  Then I got a phone call.

The call was a client asking if I would be interested in designing their winter home, a condominium, on the island of Maui in Hawaii.  They would fly me out and I could stay in the condo, which was right on the beach overlooking the ocean.  They were wondering if I could go next month, November, before they got there.  I thought, “God has something for me on Maui.”  I said, “Sure.”

What I soon found out, realized, after just a few hours on Maui, was what I was missing from my understanding of what God desired of me.  I needed first to come into a better understanding of Him.  I needed to understand His promises, “The Promises of God”. 

 Hawaii is called the Rainbow State.  Rainbows are everywhere.  One did not even have to leave the condo to see the rainbows.  They are even on the license plates.  You can’t miss them.  The rainbow, according to God, is His symbol, His visual reminder, of His promises.  God knows the best way to demonstrate, to illustrate, something to me is to do it both symbolically and visually.  For this purpose, He brought me to the see the endless rainbows of Hawaii, and through them, the glories of His promises.

 He also wanted to upgrade my mountain.

 The Hawaiian Islands are actually, when measured from their base on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, the tallest mountains in the world.  It was on the top of the highest peak on the island of Maui, 10,000 feet above the top side of the ocean, in a cold “Siberian” wind, that one morning, as the sun first came up over the horizon, above the clouds below, I said “Yes” to God and to going to Russia, to Siberia. 

(Who says God does not have a sense of humor?  He brought me to Hawaii to send me to Siberia.)

It was on this last trip to Russia, last fall, that I had a special time with God on a mountain overlooking Lake Baikal in Siberia.  I knelt on a rock and gave things to Him as seagulls flew below over a blue white-capped sea. 

On the way back from Russia, I spent a few days in Italy and took time one day to climb a mountain to spend time with God.  It was a good and beautiful time with Him.  As the sun set behind the mountains of southern France to the west, I stood by a lone pine tree on that peak overlooking the blue Mediterranean below.  I knelt, again, on a rock and presented myself to God.  It was a glorious evening as I descended the mountain, through the olive groves, as the night set in and the moon came out.

(Vacations don’t have to be Godless.  For me, the best aspects, the parts I remember most, of vacations are the times spent with God and the different places they were spent, whether it be in a famous man-created cathedral or on the top of a wondrous God-created mountain).  

 Last December, upon returning from Russia, I had some decisions to make (again).  I came back with a deeper conviction of the need for believers to be in Russia to help Russians, both physically and spiritually.  Still, I did not feel I knew what that meant, specifically, for me.  The biggest immediate question I was facing was should I try to work in 4 months of Russian language study (starting in January) into an already rather full and committed schedule.

On a Monday, December 20th, I had a morning “Time with God” that went into the afternoon.  As it got into the afternoon, I said to myself, “I need a mountain!”  But, I was in Minnesota.  And, it was winter.  And, it would be dark by the time I got to the North Shore.  Then I remembered an article in that morning’s paper on Lake City.  I remembered “my mountain”, just south of there.  I hadn’t been there since Maui.  

I made a copy of my writings from my morning’s time with God and took off for my mountain.  As it was December, the days were short so I did not have much time.  Another aspect was that it was rather cool.  0 degrees on the bank sign as I went through Red Wing.  The wind chill was –40.  It didn’t matter.  I was going to meet with my God.

 As I started up the mountain, it soon became clear this was going to be a very hard climb.  The ground was frozen with ice under a layer of snow and it was very hard to find a solid place to put one’s feet.  For a while, every third step was a fall.  I asked myself, “Is this worth it?”  I replied, “I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

 I kept going, but it was very hard.  To make any upward progress, one needed a rock for footing and the rock locations were hidden under the snow.  I have a bad right knee and doctors have told me things like this would make it sore.  It didn’t help that I was also falling on it.  It was hurting.

 A growing concern was that this was taking far too long.  The sun was going to set before I would make it to the top and I still had to make it back down before it got too dark to see anything.  The sun had already set behind the “mountain” to the west and the shadow from it that I was climbing in was getting darker.  I had stayed too long on this mountaintop once before and it was very hard finding my way back down in the dark.  And, that was in the summer.  I thought of the possible headlines for the newspaper, “Man Found Frozen on Side of Hill – no one knows what he was doing there.” 

When I did finally reach the top, it was, as usual, glorious.  The sun had set, but the sky was filled with the colors of the sunset from horizon to horizon.  I could see for miles.  The lake and the winter’s landscape spread out before me were wondrous.  It was breathtaking, …and it wasn’t just from the wind chill. 

 I pulled out my writings from earlier that day.  They were filled with hymns.  They were hymns, words, and prayers, of significance, of commitment, from my youth.  I sang them from the top of that mountain (I use the word “sang” loosely).  I sang “The Old Rugged Cross” and then “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross”:

…Were the whole realm of nature mine,

That were a tribute far too small;

Love so amazing, so divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all.

I sang “Alas! And Did My Savior Bleed”:

…But drops of grief can ne’er repay

The debt of love I owe;

Here, Lord, I give myself away,

‘Tis all that I can do.

Then, last, before leaving that mountaintop, I sang one of my favorite commitment/prayer hymns, number 400 in your Lutheran Hymnbooks, “Take My Life and Let It Be”:

 Take my life and let it be

Consecrated, Lord to Thee;

Take my moments and my days,

Let them flow in ceaseless praise.

Take my hands and let them move

At the impulse of Thy love;

Take my feet and let them be

Swift and beautiful for Thee.

Take my voice and let me sing

Always, only, for my King;

Take my lips and let them be

Filled with messages from Thee.

Take my silver and my gold,

Not a mite would I withhold;

Take my intellect and use

Ev’ry pow’r as Thou shalt choose.

Take my will and make it Thine,

It shall be no longer mine;

Take m heart, it is Thine own,

It shall be Thy royal throne.

Take my love, my Lord, I pour

At Thy feet its treasure store;

Take myself, and I will be

Ever, only, all, for Thee.

While I did not come down from that mountain feeling I had any specific answers to my questions, I did come down having known that the day and the climb and the time with God was of Him.  And, during the next couple of days that followed, it became clear to me that I was not to go to the language school in January.

The following month, 25 days after the time with God on the mountain, on the day that I would have been leaving for the language school, I found myself leaving, instead, for an appointment at the Mayo Clinic to have my growing hand tremor checked out.  Their preliminary assessment: I had Parkinson’s Disease.  Over the next couple of weeks, after numerous tests and consultations with various neurologists, their preliminary assessment became their concluding assessment, an assessment for which there is no currently known cure - outside of God.  I had come to a turn in the road.

There now arose many questions - some were/are harder than others.  One of the hardest had to do with mountaintops.  It did not take much understanding of Parkinson’s to realize that it does not, in the long run, work very well with mountain climbing.  One morning, with failed tear plumbing, I asked God, “Why would You take away our favorite meeting place?”

When I first asked the question, it was as if, as on a roller coaster, the track, my world, had suddenly fallen out from underneath me.  My heart, and spirit, was in a free fall.  I could not think of anything harder to give up than times with God on mountaintops.

 The day following finding out about Parkinson’s, as I went on a long walk with God, we climbed the little hill that sticks out into Cedar Lake where I live.  I told God, as we climbed, that someday this might be the highest “mountain” I will be able to meet Him on.  I, and God, also knew that, at some point, being able to climb even a small rise like this might be a bit too optimistic.

 As I thought, prayed, and talked to God about the mountain problem I saw we had with this Parkinson’s path He now had me on, an interesting thing happened.  He showed me His perspective, and in so doing, He changed mine.  It became clear that He did not consider our meeting together on mountaintops as having much to do with the actual height of the mountain.  As He is willing, desiring, to meet with me anywhere I am, and I seem to be wherever I am, there are no places we can’t meet.

 Later, as I shoveled the mountains of snow the city snowplow had plowed back onto my previously shoveled driveway, I thought and said to myself this: “As long as there is a mole hill I can get my feet up on, I will meet with my God on mountaintops.”  It just requires “making a mountain out of a mole hill”. 

As I laid in bed that night, I continued my (probably, actually God’s) thought, “…And if the mole hill becomes too high, I’ll find an ant hill.  And when the ant hill is no longer an option, when I can no longer get out of bed, I will ask for a grain of sand to be slipped under my feet and I will still meet with my God on mountaintops.”

The next morning, as I laid in bed and thought about that time on my Minnesota mountain a month earlier, I asked myself, “Could I have sung ‘Take my life and let it be Consecrated, Lord, to Thee’ if I had known that it meant Parkinson’s?  Could I have sung, ‘Take my life and let it be Filled with Parkinson’s Disease’?”

 It was both eerie and awesome how easily and well “Parkinson’s Disease” fit into the first line of this hymn, …and on the first try.  It was as if the hymn had been written for my eventual insertion of “Parkinson’s Disease”.  Knowing what this hymn has meant to me since I was a child, I was in awe.  God, again, was showing that He knew all about these days, not only when He called me to the mountain that cold December day, but also way back when I was singing this hymn in my home church as a child.

 That night, as I walked and prayed with God around the lake, I again asked myself if I could truly sing this hymn if I knew it meant Parkinson’s.  I thought of what it means to give one’s life to God.  Did I, was I, in my many sincere singings of these words, truly giving my life to God?  Was it conditional, or was it unconditional?  Was it “all”, or was it on certain terms?  Was it “free”, or were there certain strings attached?  I thought, “No, I did not give my life to God with strings attached.  …And I was not about to now take, or ask for, it back.”

 I tried to think of how giving one’s life to God may look from His perspective.  I saw this: He sees and hears me give my life to Him.  He takes it and asks, “This is mine?”  I say, “Yes.”  He takes this life of mine and holds it in His gentle but strong hands.  He lovingly looks if over, beholds it, and asks Himself, “What is the best possible thing I could do with and for this life?  How could its greatest purpose be most fulfilled?  What would bring it its greatest joys?  What would bring Me, God, the greatest glory?”

He thinks, pauses, and says, “Parkinson’s.”

My heart stops.  I take a deep breath.  It was not what I was thinking. 

But my thinking is so small.  It tends to revolve around what corporate advertising tells me I “need” to make me happy.  It is generally temporal in nature.  It is generally me-centered.  It seldom has much to do with others or what happens after the temporal is gone.  While I don’t know all the specifics of how God is planning on working in and through Parkinson’s, I do know He knows.

As I came to the Cedar grove on the south side of the lake, my heart desired to sing the hymn with the new Parkinson’s words.  It was where I was at. 

 As I sang “Take my life and let it be Filled with Parkinson’s Disease”, Parkinson’s started sounding more like Parkincense (try it – but at your own risk).  I thought, “Now this is interesting.”  I thought of the frankincense one of the wise men offered as a gift to Christ at His birth.  He offered what he had, his frankincense, to God.  Parkinson’s, as Parkincense, is what I now have to offer.  I offered Christ, God, my Parkincense there amongst the Cedar trees.  He smiled back, but it was a hurting smile.  He is a God who hurts with those who hurt.  He is a God who does not desire disease for anyone.  (But, …this is another topic).

I then modified the hymn to fit the new reality: “Take my life and let it be Filled with Parkincense, for Thee.”  I liked dropping the “disease” word and reinstating the author’s original “to Thee” aspect.  Cool.  Very cool God. 

Will I be able to sing this hymn with these words all through this Parkinson’s ordeal, while going through the deep valleys that lie ahead?  Only God knows.  And only God can provide the future grace that will be needed, as He has already so wondrously and abundantly provided the future grace that has become today’s “now grace”.

I now have a name for the hill, my Minnesota mountain, overlooking Lake Pepin on the Mississippi.  It is Parkincense Mountain.

A couple of days after my Parkincense Mountain climb last December, I heard a song I had not heard before.  As I listened to the words, it was as if it were written by someone watching me climb that mountain that afternoon.  It instantly became my then current favorite song.  It became my “Mountains” song.

The day after I got the news about Parkinson’s, upon picking up my car from the service station, on the drive home, I pushed the CD button.  The “Mountains” song came on, but it was now very different.  The song fit the new realities even more so.  The song, sung now as coming from one climbing, stumbling up, a mountain with Parkinson’s, was oh so real.  Only God would know I would need a “Mountains” song for this valley.  The song was another future grace gift from God.

As I took the insert from the CD case to write down the words, I realized another thing.  While I had been calling the song “Mountains”, the title is actually “Valleys”.  It’s so of God.  While I was still caught up in mountains, He was already working on the valleys He knew were coming.

There will be many valleys with Parkinson’s.  But, for every valley, there is a mountain.  In fact, the deeper the valley, the higher the mountains.  One cannot even have a mountain without a valley.  A mountain without a valley would be …like Nebraska.  Give me Maui. 

“Valleys” by Eli Stone

Lying at the bottom

I can clearly see the top

Pressed against this firm foundation

I count none of this as loss

As I struggle up this mountain

With every bloody knee

You know I’m often prone to stumble

But it’s this rock that catches

Mountains cast a shadow

At times it’s hard to tell

Will the darkness overtake you

Will you succeed or fail

Though I’ve climbed a hundred mountains

And stood upon their peaks

I still draw my greatest comfort,

From the rock that lies beneath 

“The Lord is my rock…”  Psalms 18 v2

“I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”  Philippians 3 v14 

Pray for Russians with names like Sasha, Larissa, Nickolai, Sergie, Yulia, Alexie, Olga, Genya, Inna, Loasha, Andrei, Marina, Vlad, Okanna, Dima, Tanya, Grisha, Alla, Anton, Ceseg, Valia, Maxim, Lena, Cerosha, Natasha, Nikita, Zhenia, and one Lebanese named Tarik.