Ultimate Ice Bucket Challenge

My beloved niece nominated me to join the ranks of million others who have participated in the "Ice Bucket Challenge" -- supporting the quest for a cure to treat ALS patients, a most worthy cause. 

I accept the invitation . . .

to love
to pray
to donate
to empathize
to increase awareness

. . . and whatever else the Father of mercy and comfort leads me to do and endure for His higher purposes.

Sadly (for some, perhaps), no video of my drenched body is accompanying this post.
I apologize.

Allow me still to say I do not consider it beneath me to dump ice and icy water all over me nor do I deem the trend wasteful. Human beings long to matter and this activity has frayed a glimmer of hope through the dense fog of despairing apathy that plagues our species. And since ALS patients are all too often relegated to non-visibility, I am highly grateful that this popular challenge has stirred humans (at least in this corner of my world) to think more highly of others less fortunate than they are. It has also given people the opportunity to relate to ALS patients (even if it is for a few seconds) as they experience what it is like to feel trapped in one's own body/

To think compassionately of others is always a good thing in my book . . . in God's book:

"If [anyone] is hungry, give them food to eat; if they are thirsty, give them water to drink." -- Proverbs 25:21, NIV

My ALS brothers and sisters are in dire need . . .

. . . so are my Iraqi Christian brothers and sisters being injuriously treated by ISIS members.

. . . so are my unborn brothers and sisters being killed daily because of inconveniences and injustices inflicted upon women.

. . . so are my hastily and unjustly profiled African-American brothers who get shot long before their executors realize (if ever) their error.

. . . so are my other brothers and sisters -- neglected children, mocked parents, bullied teens, derided foreigners, gang-raped victims, battered wives, ostracized liberals, misjudged conservatives, betrayed colleagues, stage 4 cancer patients, clinically depressed friends, suicidal individuals, etc. -- who daily long to be known and loved.

. . . so are you who are dealing with difficulties that no one knows about.

. . . so am I whose grief has lingered for quite some time.

This long season of grief has done many productive things for my mind, spirit, and body. Chief among them is the reminder of the brevity of my time on earth and the urgency placed on said time to drink from the Source that can quench all thirst and to "do unto others" as I would like to be treated.

Well, I know I would like a cup of water when thirsty, a slice of bread when hungry, a hug when lonely, a shoulder upon which to lean and cry when grieving. Most of all, I know that given the choice between the whole world and Christ, I'd rather have Jesus because He is my true need.

May I do no less for those in need around me. May my eyes be opened to see and my spirit heartened to meet needs with the resources the Father has granted me. May I speak on behalf of those who cannot speak for themselves, walk twenty extra miles in the shoes of another, render visible those who are all too often unseen and unloved by the masses. May I not be dragged into the currents of complacency in doing nothing for my neighbors in whatever need they face. And above all, may I be used to point them to Christ -- the One who has accepted the ultimate "Ice Bucket Challenge" on the Cross to meet the true need of humanity!

"But the Lord is faithful, and He will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one." (2 Thessalonians 3:3, NIV)

He is faithful.
His grace covers us.
He will lead you and me.

God Cares When We Don't

Logic tells us, "When others treat us like they don't care, we should believe them because they don't." 

Pride tells us, "If they don't care, why should we?"

Confession states, "When we treat God like we don't care about Him or His Word or His Will or His Way, He believes us. We don't."

But, oh, am I grateful the story doesn't end there. 

Grace asserts, "He believes us. He knows we don't care . . . physically. However, He knows deep down we have a need, a spiritual need, an overwhelming void that only He can fill, though we don't deserve it."

And so . . . 

He cares when we appear not to.
He loves when we decide not to.
He listens when we prefer not to.

He chose us when we didn't choose Him.
He offered Himself when it was our death sentence.
He emptied Himself when we had nothing to pay our debt.

O, perfect love!

Might we, in turn, do the same when others treat us like they don't care?
Might we believe them yet choose not to take the road of pride and revenge?
Might we, instead, tread the narrow lane of loving grace and patient forgiveness?

God Is Here

God is here.

God is there.

God is everywhere.

He's in Tokyo.

He's in Toledo.

He's in Toronto.

God is in joy.

He is also in sorrow.

God is in the one you see as friend.

He is also in the person you deem a foe.

Fields of learning abound:

Art

Math

Music

Dance

Sports

Theatre

Science

Painting

Reading

Religion

Business

Literature

The sphere boxes Him not,

encompasses Him not,

disproves Him not,

excludes Him not,

exhausts Him not.

He is here.

He is there.

He's everywhere.

Individuals roam the universe:

Tall people

Short people

Brownish people

Pink-hued people

Strong-willed people

Mild-mannered people

The varieties of leanings,

skills, and expressions

of all humanity

graciously point to a Creator

who delights in stamping

person, animal, and plant

with His awe-inspiring mark.

Can't hear Him?

Listen.

It's raining somewhere.

A lion is roaring somewhere.

A girl is weeping somewhere.

Can't see Him?

Look.

There is a rainbow in the sky.

A beggar's palm is open before you.

Your neglected spouse is waiting for you at home.

Can't taste Him?

Salivate.

The salt of the ocean is in the air.

A barbecue is calling your name.

Delicious mangos are on sale.

Can't smell Him?

Inhale.

A fragrant peony and a red rose are in the yard.

A baby's freshly washed and powdered skin is awaiting.

The neighbor's recently mown lawn is activating your allergies.

Don't miss Him.

Don't limit Him.

Do not look past Him.

God is here, friend.

God is also there, bud.

God is, oh so, everywhere.

Sorrow and Love

Sorrow and love always do meet in every relational transaction. The only consideration worth its grain is a matter of intensity or level -- i.e., how much do we love or how much do we give?

Those who invest much grieve and rejoice even more.

Those who sacrifice little grieve and rejoice even less.

No wonder Christ was overcome with grief and passion in the Garden of Gethsemane. He is the One who invested the absolute most in His relational transactions with us who so often sacrifice very little on behalf of our fellow man.

Love

Sorrow

Could this co-existence of sorrow and love in the Son of Man be part of the reason leading Christ to summarize the Law and the Prophets with a singular  command: To love God and neighbor with wholeness of heart, mind, soul, and strength? Could this call to experience grief and passion play a vital role in our becoming more Christ-like?

Loving God completely inevitably leads one's feet to tread rocky and thorny paths that unearth much suffering on this side of heaven. Likewise, loving neighbor wholeheartedly leads one to experience hurts and wounds the likes of which sting more than do flaming darts. Still, the depth of joy and elation that is available to those who love sacrificially is referred to by David as "eternal pleasures at God's right hand." (Ps 16:11)

Therefore, no shortcuts are granted to us.

True love:

the height of joy is reached,

the depth of grief is plumbed,

North and South are extended

in equal measure.

I had no idea what was awaiting me when I prayed, asking the Lord to fill me with an undying love for Him and His bride. He began teaching me to love His Word, to love prayer, to love His people, to love His plan. With each aspect, I have had to look sorrow square in the face. A love for the Word, prayer, God's people, and God's plan does not materialize without tests and trials and torments and tribulations.

Hence, my life has been peppered with . . .

jabs
jeers
insults
delays

and most recently,

losses.

Within the span of less than two years, five relatives of mine have died, three of whom are my father and two beloved siblings. Each death feels like a stab in my gut. Each loss begs for more time to allow recovery to occur in my affected spirit and body.

Yet life does not stop.

Tick-tock goes the clock . . .
                          . . . and life moves on without deference to bruises, scars, or tears.

Sixteen days ago, my dear sister stopped breathing due to complications related to her vicious triple negative breast cancer. Of course, everything else stopped while arrangements were made for us to pay our last respects to her.

However, now is time for me to go back to work. Twice I have been on campus but haven't been able to make it all the way tony office. The pain of losing my sister is still too fresh, too hard for me to delve into the thick of academic work. The memories of multiple hospital visits spent alongside my ailing sister, countless talks with her oncologist and other health care providers, late night outings to the ER, and end-of-life talks will forever remain etched in my memory -- issues that have pulled on my heart strings and that demanded a great deal from me.

Truth be told, at this point in my life, I am honestly weary. I am worn out from my seasons of suffering, my seasons of affliction, my seasons of colossal losses. This weariness that has invaded my veins is a direct result from my perennial distress which pleads to go on and on, with no end or relief in sight.

I am not alone in this.
Believe me!

As I read through the psalms, I find in David someone who expressed a similar soul weariness from the suffering that plagued his own life. True to form, he declares in Psalm 6:6,

"I am weary with my moaning;

every night I flood my bed with tears;

I drench my couch with my weeping."

(Oh, isn't that verse describing my faucet-like eyes!?)

David further says in Psalm 69:1-3,

"Save me, O God!

For the waters have come up to my neck.

I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold;

I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me.

I am weary with my crying out; my throat is parched.

My eyes grow dim with waiting for my God."

(Oh my!

I readily relate.)

I am weary . . .

with the tears

with the affliction

with the suffering

with the deep waters

with the sweeping flood

with the terrifying quicksand

with the quake and the surging

                  . . . and feel . . .

overwhelmed

overstrectched

overextended

. . . as if the losses are sweeping over me, drowning me.

Yet there is hope.

God was David's rock and refuge.

Likewise, He is my foundation, my foothold.

When I'm dim, He is my light.

When I'm weary, He is my rest.

When I'm poor, He is my wealth.

When I'm down, He is my summit.

When I'm weak, He is my strength.

" . . . He restores my soul."

-- Psalm 23:3

In my weariness and brokenness and woundedness and neediness, may the Lord reveal Himself to me as the place where my soul can find repose and restoration!

I will not love any less.

I will not give any less.

I surrender my sorrow and love to Him.

I Can Do Hard Things

This is my life.

This is my story.

This is my journey.

This is my testimony.

And it is all by His grace!

Framing the words of my testimony is a chant that has gotten to be quite popular in this world. It goes like this: “I can do whatever I decide to do and God will give me His blessing or assistance for its completion.” Among those who repeat it regularly are individuals who want to lose weight, amass wealth, earn degrees, win competitions, etc.

Naturally, people cling to such a mantra because it seemingly places humanity in control. Further still, it appears to be validated by Philippians 4:13, which reads,

“I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.”

But is that the true tenor of this famous passage?

The context depicted in Paul’s letter to the Philippians indicates otherwise. Highlighting adversities and harsh conditions, Paul exhorts believers to obey and love God, to serve God and others at all times and in all circumstances with gratitude and contentment. In other words, the one who professes to believe in Christ is invited to trust God in such a way that, come trials or triumphs, sickness or health, rain or shine, plenty or want, such a one can say, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.”

So, let me take it home.

I am a Christ-follower.

I am to see every situation (rosy or dark) facing me as an opportunity to proclaim, "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength."

Hmmm. 

Let me be honest.

When life is rosy, I for one tend to think I deserve it. When I am recognized for a great feat or a kind deed, I tend to think I did it in my own strength. And when difficult circumstances rear their ugly heads, discontent seeks to destroy me by directing its “Woe is me” sermon to my fragile heart. My bent is doomed to fail, to fall, to falter, to flounder.

Thankfully, Grace comes to the rescue.

Instead of allowing me to wallow and wander aimlessly in self-pity, Grace leads me home to the place where I realize that I. Can. Do. Hard. Things.

Hard.

Tough.

Difficult.

Unpopular.

Problematic.

Indeed, I can do hard things through the strengthening grace of Christ:

I can sit in a roofless room as my 3-year old self watches my family's belongings being drenched by a merciless downpour.

I can trudge onward as my 6-year old heart gets shredded and torn by jeers and jabs from bullies left and right in my neighborhood.

I can quietly take the blame for an indiscretion my 9-year old self did not commit, and humbly stomach the severe beating meant for another child who was too frail to undergo it herself.

I can live to tell of my suicidal attempt at the age of 10 when I reached a point of utter despair, depression, and despondency over the incessant bullying that was my lot from morning till night.

I can move beyond the shock of my 11-year old eyes witnessing the fatal burning of a young adult male whose unfortunate sin was the joining of the wrong Haitian political party.

I can survive the enduring of a shameful season of sexual harassment and subsequent abuse that threatened to undo my pursuit of dignity, stability, and worth.

I can taste fame as a Christian contemporary singer in my teenage years and swallow its accompanying potion of gossip, slander, and malice reserved for those in the limelight.

I can wait through a long embargo period imposed on Haiti by the United Nations and the US before being granted access to a solid college education.

I can go through months and months of 10 meals a week at Biola, choosing to rely on the delights of Chopin and Schubert to shush my rumbling stomach in the Crowell Hall practice rooms.

I can lean on my Song Literature professor at Penn State as my salty tears stained her blouse the day when two planes caused the World Trade Center towers to crumble to pieces, killing thousands in their wake.

I can finish a tear-jerking doctoral recital the day after a friend and fellow Eastman student -- brilliant and promising -- was tragically killed in one of the most preventable car crashes known to homo sapiens.

I can sit in front of a TV screen and watch my childhood home crumbled and Haitian historic sites pancaked by a 7.0 earthquake in the presence of a horrified world.

I can choose to forgo taking the bait of self-righteousness, learning rather to forgive and overlook slurs, accusations, insults, and slanderous words. I can surrender my trials, snares, finances, emotions, relationships, strivings to the Father.

I can receive phone calls telling me my father had a fatal heart attack, my brother's body was mutilated, my brother/friend died while trying to reach a hospital, my sister succumbed to cancer at a young age . . . weathering storm after storm after storm . . . entering valley after valley of the shadow of death . . .

I can weep yet not lose heart. I can walk yet not faint. I can be struck and turn the other cheek. I can face mourning at night yet dance in the morning. I can reveal my weaknesses so that Christ's power may rest on me.

I can sing.

I can trust God.

I can walk in faith.

I can do hard things.

And it is all because of Christ.

Obituary: Nawnly Judith Brutus

Well-known Haitian singer, Nawnly Judith Brutus, died Monday, July 21, 2014 at Holy Cross Hospital in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

Her express request stipulates that her post mortem body be kept out of the public eye in order for her to be remembered as the vibrant, energetic, and charismatic person that she was in life. A memorial service, thus, will be held in her honor on Saturday, August 2, 2014 at Église Baptiste Béthanie located at 2200 NW 12th Avenue, Fort Lauderdale, FL 33311. In tandem and in the presence of other family members and friends who are unable to come to Florida, another memorial will be held in Fort Worth, Texas where she will be laid to rest.

With birth parents Jude Elien Brutus (deceased) and Berthe Elimène Calixte, Nawnly Judith was born on May 6, 1974 in Lapointe des palmistes, Haiti, and became the daughter of the late minister Dessan Lilite and his wife, Tulia Morvan Lilite. Having graduated from the prominent ENARTS School in Haiti, she sang a varied repertoire including oratorio, opera, Christian contemporary, jazz, and Konpa boosting the Haitian scene with a noteworthy discography. Her fame came from winning the second prize at the 1998 Konkou Chante Nwel (Christmas Song Contest) in Haiti and singing with top Haitian group Alabanza for 13 consecutive years. Most recently, she founded Music & Arts, Inc., an organization with a mission to train and assist young artists in various genres.

She will be remembered as a visionary, a rock, and a pillar in the lives of many. She was a fierce overcomer of challenges, a daughter who loved her parents, a sister who selflessly gave of herself, a cousin and an aunt who cared, and a loyal friend to a fault.

In addition to both of her fathers, she was preceded in death by her twin brother, Jude Eben, and her brother, Simon Serléus. She is survived by her grandmother, Sagrace Brutus; birth mom, Berthe Elimène Calixte, and siblings, Gilbert, Emmanuel, and Julienne; mom, Tulia; siblings, Jeanne Pierre and her husband, Madère, Jean Osee Lilite and his wife, Jodèle, Azer Lilite and his wife, Johane, Obedda Lilite Alexis and her husband, Henry, Magda Lilite Bonny and her husband, Manassé, Louima Lilite and his wife, Dephanie, Ecclesiaste Theodore and his wife, Rosa, Serléus Simon’s wife, Margarette; aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews, and friends.

Gone Too Soon: Nawnly Judith Brutus

Nawnly Judith Brutus

1974 - 2014

For the sake of clarification, let me say that I have learned from the Word of God to define family as a group of persons who have been granted the grace of choosing to commit to their kinship out of selfless love as opposed to merely acknowledging the commonly accepted mandates of birth, blood, adoption, or marriage. Being the youngest of my family, I have never had any reason to think of anyone of my siblings (by birth, adoption, or faith) as anything other than a full brother or sister. And so, Nawnly Judith was always my sister -- beloved, cherished, and treasured -- in life as she now is in this dark hour.

Her soul departed her body around 4 p.m. EST at Holy Cross Hospital in Fort Lauderdale, FL on the 21st day of July 2014.

Many have penned, called, and shared their utter shock and dismay upon receiving the news of my sister's recent passing. To be sure, I understand and appreciate the concerns that have been voiced:

"She was so young."
"She was so beautiful."
"She was so very gifted."
"She was so compassionate."

In the end, death is no respecter of youth, beauty, giftedness, or compassion; it preys on the unsuspected and snatches the life out of wise or fool from one molecule to the next. Still, in response to hundreds of questions, I find myself in the position of wanting to relay a bit of perspective on this unfortunate fait accompli.

I remember eight months ago this very night, my brother Simon Serleus was abducted, tortured, and assassinated. Two days later, grief-stricken Nawnly Judith called me to inform me that her oncologist thought there was some life-threatening activity in her body. I decided then and there that I would leave my duties in Oklahoma for a while to further investigate the doctor's statement.

Cancer.

My first visit to Holy Cross had the effect of a cold shower on my system. I learned right away that I was facing a truly fierce opponent in her disease despite my sister's generous smile and upbeat nature. Visit after visit, waiting room after waiting room, seeing doctor after doctor who may or may not be able to help her rare and aggressive cancer, I simply found myself struggling. My mind was at war with my heart -- I knew what I knew and I knew what I desired. Through the internal war, however, God beckoned me to be still so He could teach me . . .

And as He taught, my questions led me to find out that it really began in September of 2012 when she first felt a small lump in her left breast. An overachiever like her brother, she kept herself too busy to dwell upon it too much. The lump was further overshadowed by an overloaded work schedule, our parents' 50th anniversary celebration in Fort Worth, TX, a big competition, a concert sponsored by her budding company Music & Arts, Inc., our father's death, and an altogether frenetic Fall 2012 season. In October 2012, she became aware of an increasing discomfort causing her to alter her lifelong habit of sleeping on her stomach. It gradually deteriorated though no one knew of her condition.

On December 24, 2012, Nawnly Judith was on her way home from work when she began experiencing some pain in her left breast deemed much more acute. She made it home, took a shower, but then decided to drive to the hospital, and checked herself in. Her ER visit in Coral Springs, FL ended up being a 6-day stay. It was there that she was first diagnosed with cancer.

At the beginning of January 2013, she began receiving health treatments at Holy Cross -- an excellent Catholic HealthCare provider -- and underwent surgery to install a port in preparation for the eventual chemo treatments intended for her left breast. She was then diagnosed with advanced left breast invasive ductal carcinoma triple negative.

If you are anything like me, you will likely not understand the diagnosis. So, allow me to enlighten you:

That long name means serious business. It is medical code for a type of cancer testing negative for estrogen, progesterone, and hormone-receptive protein. Again, that means, this type of cancer has no estrogen receptors, no progesterone receptors, and barely expresses hormone receptivity. Since most breast cancer treatments rely on the above three elements for any hope of recovery, the only treatment option for my dear sister was a combination of surgery and radiation therapy bookended by chemotherapy, a combination which oncologists warn may or may not work for this rare disease. Statistics are quite low in terms of survival rate.

Not easily discouraged, Nawnly Judith decided to enter the battle. In the spring of 2013, she underwent six cycles of highly concentrated TAC chemotherapy that ended in May 2013. Being young and vibrant, her body responded very well to the chemo. Of course, her experience was not unlike most cancer patients -- hair loss, extreme fatigue, etc. -- but the oncologist was hopeful especially with an ensuing bilateral mastectomy (the surgical removal of both breasts) at the close of treatment. For reasons far too painful for me to explain, that option did not materialize.

October 2013 came with increased pain and concern, which drew my sister to contact Holy Cross again. Upon establishing that the original 2.4 cm tumor had returned and grown to 13 cm in size, the surgeon aptly removed the left breast and nine lymph nodes that were malignant. However, at the time of the operation, the surgeon spotted what are called positive margins (points of living cancer cells that are outside the range of the targeted area). In other words, the surgery could not take all of the cancer out -- and that certainly became a definite issue of concern.

It was at that point that her illness reached a critical stage. Her pain grew more and more intense on a daily basis. The once unflinching woman turned into someone who could no longer handle listening to test results or other medical options, leading me to become her spokesperson. For the remaining seven months of her life, God used me to engage in on-going conversations with the team of doctors, nurses, and supportive staff members assigned to her care.

Having spent grueling moments with her at the hospital and at home, I can say that Nawnly was by far the most courageous patient I have ever seen. She was a born fighter and she gave her absolute best to combat her cancer.

Yet her last sixteen hours on earth were her absolute hardest. Not feeling well, she was taken to the ER and was admitted in the wee hours of July 21. Her moaning and restlessness, picked up from the phone as I talked with her healthcare providers, will forever remain etched in my memory. Shortness of breath, low blood pressure, dropping platelets, and other medical complications combined their efforts to snatch away her precious breath -- that sine qua non element of her spark and song.

Her last earthly breath occurred at 4:00 pm EST.
Her first heavenly breath occurred outside the constraints of time.

So, of course, she was young, beautiful, gifted, and compassionate. Of course, she looked fine, healthy, vibrant, and upbeat. But the cancer never stopped working against her, though undetected by others. I wonder how many others are suffering silently and imperceptibly even now. May we remember that death lurks about seeking unsuspecting souls to devour. Would you and I be ready to meet this all too often unwelcome guest?

Nawnly Judith Brutus was ready because she gave her heart to Christ.

What a valiant warrior!
Cancer may seem to have won this round but the war has been won by Christ.
My sister flew to Jesus free, utterly free, completely cancer-free, and I am ecstatic!