220th Annual Conference Des Moines, Iowa July 1-5, 2006

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Myrna Long Wheeler, chaplain at Brethren Hillcrest Homes in La Verne, Calif. - photo by Regina Roberts

“Aerobics for the Soul ... No Pain, No Gain”
Romans 12:1-2
by Myrna Long Wheeler

Scripture: Romans 12:1-2 - I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.”

I live about an hour from Hollywood, and one of my forms of relaxation is going to the movies. My all-time favorite movie is The Mission, starring Robert DeNiro and Jeremy Irons. It looks at the empire building of Spain and Portugal in South America, and the conversion and “civilizing” of the native Guarani Indians by the Catholic Church in the mid 1700s. It also has a message about spiritual disciplines. Robert DeNiro’s character, Rodrigo Mendoza, is a ruthless man. A slave hunter, he makes his living by capturing the young men of the Guarani tribe, and then sells them to slave traders.

This despicable man, in a jealous rage against his brother, kills his brother. Distraught beyond comprehension, Rodrigo confesses to the priest, who tells him that in this wilderness he must devise his own penance for forgiveness. And so, in an early movie scene, Rodrigo appears in the rain forest of what is now Brazil, dragging from his shoulders, a huge net stuffed full of pots and pans, iron pieces, wood, stone–anything heavy enough to create an almost impossible load. He precariously grips onto the side of a huge steep rocky cliff – and he is pulling this load—his guilt burden—up a jagged steep mountain. Every muscle is strained, sweat drips from every pore, his fingers grope for a crevice in the rock so he can pull himself and his burden one step higher. He painfully makes his way up the sheer rock—higher and higher. His foot slips, and he crashes down the rocky crag—the load spilling out of his hands, flying in all directions.

He picks himself up, bloodied, and repacks the net with its heavy load and starts up again, and again, and again. At long last he gets near the top – it’s within reach. All he needs to do is heave himself and his load over the top edge. But he is totally exhausted--spent. He cannot pull that ponderous load up one more inch. His muscles are shaking with exertion.

And at that moment of vulnerability, there appears – in full painted face, a native Guarani, who recognizes this slave poacher, this enemy—this white man who has decimated his tribe. The Guarani native slowly reaches out with a knife, but Rodrigo can do nothing but to accept his fate--his death. But instead of slitting the throat of this foreigner, this Rodrigo, who is his enemy, he cuts the net—the burden of guilt—from Rodrigo’s back – and pulls him to safety.

Rodrigo Mendoza could not leave his past behind him. He carried his guilt, his sin, his anger at himself, his resentment, his mistakes, his grudges. At the top of that high crag, near the tribe from which he stole away strong young men, where he knew he would receive the punishment he deserved—death by that tribal man--he was saved, forgiven; he found redemption. Months later, through the mission priest, Rodrigo Mendoza finds God, and a reason to live—even joy. Eventually he becomes a Jesuit priest and helps to defend the Guarani Indians against the cruelties and butcheries of the slave dealers and the ravages of the Portuguese government.

Well, that was a movie—fictionalized history. We live in the present, and we also carry our burdens with us – maybe not so graphically as Rodrigo, in a pack on our backs – or even so anyone else can see. We do it as churches, as a district, as a denomination, and as individuals. We kill each other – oh, not literally in flesh and blood, but we hurt one another; we disagree; we declare that “our way is right—your way is wrong;” we get angry with one another – and we start to react, with negative comments, gossip; we stop going to church. Maybe we stop speaking to a friend, we divorce, we choose revenge, separation, brokenness, sin.

This whole year, we’ve been asked to focus on spiritual disciplines—it has been interesting trying to follow Moderator Ron Beachley’s encouragement to practice various kinds of spiritual discipline. As I’ve tried to live my life more like Jesus, and as I’ve thought about what spiritual discipline would most benefit us as Christians, as Brethren, I’ve concluded that our spiritual exercises need to include aerobics of the heart, which would open new paths to becoming more like Jesus—but, like most aerobics, they may stretch us out of our comfort zone. There’s a saying or principle that many personal trainers use as encouragement—especially when you’re ready to quit. That phrase is: no pain, no gain. Until you feel the pain of the exercise or discipline, you will make no headway, you will gain no growth—or as Apostle Paul put it, “Present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, who wills us to do what is good and acceptable and perfect.” Paul also writes in that same chapter these words: “Let love be genuine, hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Live in harmony with one another; never avenge yourselves; overcome evil with good.”

Apostle Paul writes this letter to the Christians in Rome. He tells them of the unconditional forgiveness they have been given and of the forgiveness that they are to demonstrate to others. In his writing he echoes Jesus’ words that we read in Luke 6:27: “But I say to you, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.” Similar words are found in Peter’s letters – “Strive to live in unity, to have empathy, sympathy, compassion for one another, to love each other, and to have a tender and humble heart.”

I want to share a personal story—not a movie, not fiction—but my story. It’s a story of pain, of forgiveness, and of hope. It’s the story of my Dad, and my daughter, and aerobics of the heart.

I come from a long line of Brethren, but, despite the fact that my Dad was raised in the Church of the Brethren—had a grandfather who was a minister in the COB--my Dad finished out his life attending the Mennonite Brethren Church. I share tonight how my Dad lived the last three years of his life--the unfettered joy he felt in his life; the freedom to reach out to others; the tender heart he developed; the blessing he gave to our family. Those last three years, beginning at the age of 90, after a lot of spiritual pain, he gained a truly abundant life. This is my story:

My Dad, was born in Macdoel, CA, a small town almost to the Oregon border; was dedicated in the Macdoel Church of the Brethren and was baptized at the Lindsay Church of the Brethren in central California. Yet, for almost all of his life as a baptized Christian, my Dad was NOT a gracious or forgiving man. Oh, he was a good churchman – attendance every Sunday was a given; tithing happened without question; serving was expected: as church clerk, deacon, Sunday School class president—he was active and involved. But my Dad did not grasp the importance of the community—the give and take of discernment or compromise--abiding by majority opinion; the living together in love even when there are disagreements. He did not understand about forgiveness. And this made him a man who was not completely happy or content. It made him a man whose guard was always up—ready to defend his opinions, not willing to consider alternatives. It made him a bitter man hanging on to past hurts. He carried a large net of burdens invisibly on his back.

Throughout his life he would cut off relationships rather than to work through the painful process of reconciliation or negotiation or compromise. When I was a young girl – about 7 years old, I saw my Dad so convinced that he was right about an issue, that he broke off his relationship with his mother. She was his only parent, his father having died when he was 5 years old. He did not speak to his mother, nor did he allow our family to see her ever again. She died many years later in Fresno, where we also lived.

My Dad’s only sibling, a brother– a few years younger than Dad, sided with their Mom, so my Dad broke off that relationship also. Since about 1946 I never saw my 3 cousins, Aunt or Uncle Long.

After his retirement, when Dad disagreed with the Modesto Church of the Brethren, where my folks had lived for almost 10 years--when he disagreed about something having to do with the new church building project--and he didn’t get his way in a committee--he not only left that congregation, but moved back to Fresno, and began attending the Mennonite Brethren Church, leaving his beloved Church of the Brethren.

The most devastating breach of relationship my Dad exhibited--at least for me--concerned my daughter Julie, when she became engaged to her husband, Mark Sankey, who was of African American heritage. Dad did not believe in racially mixed marriages—he strongly did not believe in them. And failing to convince Julie, his only granddaughter, to deny her love for Mark, my Dad cut her out of his life also. For 15 years she was never to see or interact with her grandparents. Even after Julie’s husband’s death in 1994 she was still a pariah in his eyes and was not welcome in his life.

….My Dad was a devout churchman; called himself a Christian; he never missed a Sunday worship service; he never missed a tithe. But my Dad missed the point of Jesus’ teachings: have sympathy, kindness, love for one another; a tender heart; be humble; forgiving; don’t set yourself above others; don’t repay one hurt with another hurt—but repay with a blessing so that you may be blessed.

Thank God my Dad, like Rodrigo Mendoza in the movie, experienced a resurrection—an epiphany—the grace of God. When he was about to turn 90, in August 2001, a year and a half after my Mom had died, my Dad’s heart starting working overtime in aerobics of the heart. He knew he wasn’t happy; that his narrowness and unforgiving heart had made him cold, bitter, and unhappy. God’s grace touched my Dad and restored him to wholeness – and he started to discern the will of God—doing what is good and acceptable and perfect. He began to live life at age 90 in a very real way.

Dad and Julie were tearfully reunited, on his 90th birthday. He welcomed her into his home and met his birth great-grandchildren, Ben and Brandon for the first time. They were 10 and 13 years old. Forgiveness, resurrection; new life; born again – I saw those words lived out in a new and real way.

I saw my Dad blessed. I watched as he couldn’t let even an inch of space get between him and Julie at that first reunion. During the last three years of his life, I saw him get interested in others, reaching out. I saw him searching for ways to connect with his neighbors and friends: he joined a bible study group; he started going to a men’s breakfast group. I saw my Dad take the first step at age 90 to write to his brother and then to go visit him—a reunion after 55 years. And on July 19, 2003, I saw my Dad hang onto life after a massive stroke—for several days—until his granddaughter Julie could fly from Salt Lake City where she was vacationing, to reach his bedside before he allowed himself to die.

“Let love be genuine; hold fast to what is good; love one another; forgive; outdo one another in showing honor; have a tender heart, compassion.” These, my friends, are not merely suggestions—these are an imperative. If you are truly a Christian, you have no choice. My Dad’s death was beautiful—because finally, he was living his faith. He was not afraid to die, because he had received forgiveness and he, in turn, had forgiven.

My Dad’s story tells me how we all need to come before God on bended knee with thanksgiving for the model of Jesus Christ, who showed us how to live. It does not make any difference how many Sundays you’ve attended church. It doesn’t matter how many Bible studies or meditations you’ve done, nor how many prayers or hours of retreat you’ve expended. Without the spiritual discipline of love and forgiveness, without acknowledging that we, as individuals and as churches, do not have all the answers: that our positions on issues, our interpretations of scripture are only our opinions—they are not God’s truth—without doing all this, we do not follow Christ.

Brothers and sisters, there is pain when you do aerobics of the heart, but that’s how we gain an abundant life—a new world promised by Jesus, where love abides, where everyone is free--where all shall be God’s people in justice, love and peace. Amen.

–Myrna Long Wheeler is chaplain at Brethren Hillcrest Homes in La Verne, Calif.

Members of the 2006 Annual Conference news team, a ministry of the Church of the Brethren General Board, contributed to the Annual Conference web pages: Jake Blouch, Cheryl Brumbaugh-Cayford, Kathleen Campanella, Eddie Edmonds, Karen Garrett, Clara Glover, Amy Heckert, Keith Hollenberg, Jill Kline, Sarah Kovacs, Frank Ramirez, Jesse Reid, Regina Roberts, Frances Townsend, and Becky Ullom.