Saturday, March 17, 2012

An Equipped Saint

My response to a seminary students request for information about how I do disability ministry:

I’m not an ordained pastor, but I am a minister of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

When I met Earl, I didn’t know Jesus and had no desire to meet Him. I continued to fight His presence the first four years of our marriage. Then I went on a Walk to Emmaus where I accepted Jesus’ love and forgiveness. Eight months later, I was paralyzed in an accident.

After rehabilitation at the number one spinal cord injury rehab in the United States, I became very depressed. I withdrew for hours, sleeping or just hiding behind veiled eyes.

When Earl took me out I couldn’t handle the stares, the “I’m so sorry,” and the patting on my shoulders. Servers in restaurants wouldn’t give me a menu and asked Earl, “What does she want?” without looking at me. I took my anger out on my family and friends. (Today we joke about the “spirit of slap” that came over me.)

I begged God, “Please, at least heal my hands so I can take care of myself.” Instead, He began a ministry of teaching and speaking to small groups.

A monthly Sunday school teaching led to teaching every Sunday. A young women’s Bible study, a weekly prayer group, and a daily telephone ministry with women who couldn’t attend Church followed. Soon I was president of the women’s group, chair of the evangelism committee, and chaired the conference-level disability team.

I’m a certified lay speaker and have filled the pulpit, testified before both large and small groups, and spoken before the pastors, laypersons and members of our regional conference.

Acceptance not just of my disability but also my abilities came through ministry to others and by allowing others to minister to me. I’m well known in my Church and secular communities for telling people what Jesus has done for me.

"And He Himself gave some to be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, and some pastors and teachers, for the equipping of the saints for the work of ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ, for the equipping of the saints for the work of ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ, till we all come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to a perfect man, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ;" Ephesians 4:11-14

In Christ Alone,
Berta

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

How Do You Eat A Peppermint?

I wish I could savor the sweet coolness of the red and white disk. Letting it slowly dissolve as my saliva washes away each granule of sugar. As the shape reduces, tiny holes perforate the sliver of now white candy; you know those spaces that allow you to apply suction through them to your cheek or lip. It thins, the edges become sharp, then it crumbles and is gone.

That rarely happens. Rather:

I so enjoy peppermint candy that I get two at a time—with Earl’s help. I first get them slick and pocket one in my right cheek, and begin chipping away at the other. I can sometimes break off such small pieces that they seem a waste but they're not. You see each small burst of flavor is as appreciated as a reward for doing good. I devour each lozenge quickly. Why? For that strong burst of pleasure!

While enjoying my peppermints one evening I thought, "Am I this way with God?" Instead of taking my time and enjoying each, and every moment that He gives me, do I burst through an experience, an emotion, a moment in time, for the instant reward? Do I live for Him or do I live for what He gives me?

Father, Open my eyes, my ears, and my spirit that I may seek Your face and consciously savor what You desire for me. In His name, Amen

You desire truth in the inward being; therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart. (Psalm 51:6)

In Christ Alone,
Berta

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Yes. You. Can.

When I came home from rehab five months after my spinal cord injury, I couldn’t hold my head up. I couldn’t speak above a whisper. And I couldn’t stay alone. I spent all my days reclined in my power wheel chair with my eyes closed.

Surgery to fuse my broken neck vertebra nine months later helped and I slowly gained strength in my neck, shoulders and arms. Though I became more able, I didn’t participate in my daily life. I expected Earl to take care of business.

“Berta, I want you to make your own appointments.”

My heart raced, “No.”

“Yes. Start by keeping up with your doctor’s appointments and your prescription medicines.”

Overwhelmed at the thought of exposing myself to people and how they might react to my disability; I refused.

He insisted.

I cried. “I can’t.”

He said, “Yes, you can!”

I got started. I created a list of my doctors and their telephone numbers. I set up a file of my medicines, including all the information I needed to order them. I discovered a calendar program on my computer and filled it in.

“Berta, when’s your next doctor’s appointment?”

“I don’t know.”

“Check your calendar.”

“Did you order your medicine?”

“No. I forgot.”

“Do it now.”

In our seventh year, he approached my Sunday school teacher, “Ask Berta to teach your class one Sunday a month.” I hesitated for a moment before agreeing.

“Berta, would you lead a Bible study for young women?” I did. “…write for the church newsletter…?” I did.

Earl continued to encourage me. Sometimes it was more forceful than I wanted. Today I’m thankful. I would not be who I am if he had not used tough love to bring me back to the living.

While talking to a new friend about his pushing me to do things for myself, Earl overheard me and commented, “I don’t know how she does all that she does today!”

It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn Your statutes. --Ps 119:71 ESV

In Christ Alone,
Berta