Shannon S. McKee

musings and moments

When Someday Becomes Today {My Reflections on Barb’s Homegoing}

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Yesterday in the early minutes of the afternoon my friend took her last earthly breath.

For the last 24 hours or so, I’ve been reflecting on the profundity of that thought. One second she was here with us, battling an aggressive brain tumor. In the next, she was with the Lover of her Soul. The One who created her and numbered the hairs on her head – even the ones lost during chemo. The One who for the joy set before Him – the joy of redeeming her – endured the shame of the cross. The One who traded places with her – exchanging her brokenness for His pure righteousness. The One who held her close and strengthened her during the last 8 months of this cancer journey. She is with Him. And THAT is enough for her. For several years now, she has been daily practicing approaching His throne through the grace of Jesus… her vision of Him ever growing but always clouded by living in a fallen body with a stained heart. No more. Now she knows fully. She joins the great throng of witnesses who have gone before her. Those whose faith has become sight. In a moment, just the blink of an eye, the covenant she entered into 7 or 8 years ago, became fully realized. But it’s not over for Barb Carter. Far from over. Now she begins a journey of being invited “further up and further in.” The journey for which we were all made.

For Barb, I rejoice. I’m pretty sure she crossed into the Lord’s presence with little regret.

For those of us left waiting, we wrestle with the loss. Rick often says that when a person dies, we who are left need to do a few things. Among them: celebrating the life and mourning the loss.

We need to be sad. Our lives are changed by her homegoing. Her husband, kids, and grandkids will feel it most acutely. We need to grieve with them and be safe places for them as they process. But, the ripples will extend beyond her immediate family. We’ll all feel it because Barb was the kind of person who touched a lot of lives. The McKees have certainly felt it already – even our teenage kids literally weeping at the thought of life without Barb Carter. I, for one, don’t look forward to walking into Monday night Bible study in January without her bald head peeking out at me.

But, we also need to celebrate her life. Last night, we got some time with part of her family and two of her dearest friends. Over pizza, we recounted some of the things we loved about Barb. And, then, in the car on the way home, Rick and I laughed about soft corn and other funny moments we had shared with her. That kind of reminiscing is important and powerful as we work through our loss.

In that spirit, I want to tell you a few things that have struck me about Barb’s legacy. Things I want to emulate.

  1. Barb invested in people. She and Jeff lived comfortably but not extravagantly. Their treasure was not in “stuff”. It was in relationships. They sacrificed their own material comfort at times, to make sure others had what they needed. As our church’s Women’s Ministry Director, I was constantly hearing from other women who had been impacted by her. She was always having coffee with someone or taking food to someone or giving a ride to someone or helping someone. And, now as the stories about her begin to pour out on FB, you can see a little glimpse of her impact on others. She was especially good at taking people under her wing and bringing them along.
  2. Barb wasn’t afraid to speak truth. Lovingly, but it was truth just the same. She didn’t try to apologize for God or second-guess Him. She trusted Him but also wasn’t afraid when she had questions or was frustrated by Him. She processed her questions/doubts/frustrations in the light of truth. Even if the answers made her uncomfortable. She also wasn’t afraid to speak into other people’s lives.
  3. Barb was ready to “meet her Maker.” She became a Christian 7 or 8 years ago and when she did, she was all in. She spent her days hungering after His words like they were food to satisfy her deepest longing. As her death drew near and she talked about meeting Him, she had already invested hours of study and time with Him. She knew the One she was going to stand before. So, she really wasn’t afraid.
  4. Barb ran her race well. When she and Jeff found out that an extremely aggressive form of cancer would be part of that race, she didn’t waffle or give up. Was she afraid at times? Sure. Disappointed that her life might be cut short just shy of her 50th wedding anniversary? Of course. Did she WANT to leave Jeff and her precious family and large circle of friends? Nope. But, that woman fixed her eyes on Jesus, knowing that He was the author and perfecter of her faith, and she ran her leg of the race faithfully right up until the end. She didn’t wallow in self-pity or make it all about her. She continued to trust God and be others-centered right up to end. Studying the book of Hebrews with her during her last months was such a privilege – I think she was encouraged by it in profound ways and that rubbed off on the rest of us.
  5. Barb laughed. A lot. She didn’t take herself too seriously. In a culture that finds every reason to be offended for every possible aggression – perceived or real – Barb’s approach was a breath of fresh air. Her energy and laughter rubbed off on a lot of other people… and that was a gift to many of us.

Hers was a life well-lived. Let’s mourn and celebrate. Let’s encourage each other all the more as the day draws near for us to join her.

But, let’s not encourage each other with silly platitudes. Barb hasn’t become an angel. She also didn’t become god-like, looking down on all of us all the time and superintending events in our lives. She also isn’t at the pearly gates trying to convince Peter to let her in. We don’t need to pray to her or send her messages. She isn’t bored sitting on a cloud with a harp and wishing she could be here. Instead, let’s encourage each other with truth. Barb’s got a full plate… because, friends, SHE’S WITH JESUS. She’s still just our Barb. But she is in the presence of her God. Without the hindrances of this sin-stained life. She’s in a real place in the heavenly realm with the One who loves her better than any of us could.

And that changes everything.

All their life in this world and all their adventures had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before. – C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle

Anticipating Advent {Some Suggestions}

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It’s hard to believe that we’re nearing the last month of 2017! For me, it’s been a tiring year. Emotionally, spiritually, physically. I just feel weary. I’m not saying it’s been a bad year because God is always doing profound, meaningful things and I see His hand working it for my best. But, He has been upending some things in my life, throwing some challenges into my path, and just generally digging around a bit in my heart.

So, as I head into this holiday season, I’m looking forward to being intentional about the Advent season and trying to coax my heart into a posture of restful anticipation. The Advent season is a time of expectant waiting and preparation for the celebration of Jesus’ first coming – His birth that we celebrate at Christmas. The word Advent is a version of the Latin word meaning “coming”. Some churches who keep to a more liturgical calendar will celebrate with formal traditions. At Redemption Chapel, we are more casual with only a few church-wide observances.

But, that doesn’t mean we’re not all preparing our hearts for worshipping Christ! The headlong rush of the tasks and extras that seem to come with this time of the year can make it difficult to pause. But, it’s so important. To that end, I wanted to offer up some of my favorite resources. Each day during December, I like to light a candle, put on worshipful Christmas music, boil up a pot of tea, and cozy up under my Christmas quilt as I read one of these – ideally in the morning before things get busy. (Ideally.)

Watch for the Light

This is an old favorite for me – it’s not a Bible study where you’ll get in the Word a ton but a book with great reflections from great theological writers. Honestly, it’s hard to go wrong with essays and poems from people like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Madeleine L’Engle, Martin Luther, and  Henri Nouwen. There are 40 days worth of deep, sometimes jarring reflections.

The Greatest Gift

This one will get you in the Word a bit more and is traces the beautiful love story of Jesus’ coming. Beginning with Jesse, the father of David, The Greatest Gift retraces the epic pageantry of mankind, from Adam to the Messiah, with each day’s reading pointing to the coming promise of Christ. It’s well-done and worshipful. BONUS if you have a young family, she’s done a companion book for doing it with your children.

She Reads Truth Advent 2017

She Reads Truth is a favorite of mine when I’m not in a Bible study with women from church. Honestly, it’s a little bit pricier than I prefer but it really is beautiful and so well thought-thru. This book intentionally includes the Joy to the World: Advent 2017 reading plan only, with a written introduction and many other helpful elements throughout. Because God’s Word is living and active, the focus of these books is the scripture – not a reflection by a human author. However, written responses to each day’s reading can be found on SheReadsTruth.com and the She Reads Truth app. You can join the community of other women who are online – for further commentary and conversation via the website. As a bonus, they have other helpful tools and kid-friendly options on their site. Also, shipping is free for all Advent orders now through November 16th!

I hope that helps give you a few ideas for your devotional life as you prepare your heart and mind for worshiping our beautiful Savior… He is truly “better” than anything we think we need/want. After studying Hebrews this Fall, my eyes will view the Christmas season with an added reverence and awe.

A Peek Into My Journey With Race

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My first experiences with racial diversity went right over my head. I think the best word to describe it is naïve. Or maybe oblivious? Bear with me for a sec while I explain with a little bit of my story:

One of my closest elementary school friends was black. It never occurred to me at that age that there was anything unusual about our friendship – I loved Venita and her family. The thing that initially drew us together was our shared faith. I had just started learning about Jesus (along with my parents who were new Christians). She had been raised in a Christian home. So, we bonded over books and Jesus. Her family took me to Pioneer Girls every Wednesday night and I ate it up. We eventually grew apart because she was brilliant and skipped a grade. For me, that was a harder gap to bridge than the color of her skin! In my naiveté, it never occurred to me that her “blackness” might mean that she experienced life differently than I did. I never considered what it might be like for them to be one of the only black families in our entire elementary school.

My other experiences were similar – my Mom’s best friend was a Philippine woman who had married a white man. I thought it was cool that Dorothy could make unique-to-me foods, that she could pull off that black, thick line of eyeliner on her eyelid, and that she had some interesting artwork in her living room. That was it. Her racial history intrigued me but I just never really thought much about it beyond that. Except that my Dad called her our “little yellow friend” – a reference to Cato in the Pink Panther movies. Before you freak out on me, please note that it was an endearing, loving reference in the comfort of a close friendship – Dorothy wasn’t offended by it because of the context. So, it never occurred to me that it would be offensive in another context. Or that some people would say it with disgust toward people of Asian descent.

By God’s grace, I grew up in an environment without any of the undertones of racial superiority. My parents always had people of color in their lives – even though we lived in a very rural area that was predominantly white. My Mom talked openly with me about some of the atrocities of things like the holocaust or the Japanese internment camps in the US during WW2. Our small church had two bi-racial couples. Whenever I heard about other races at that church, it was always in a positive context with a nod to God’s love for ALL people. My earliest days as a Christian were always infused with the idea that every kind of people would be represented in heaven, worshipping our good God. This was the context in which I grew up.

Enter Billie – A Pivotal Moment

And, then, there was Billie. Billie hung around the garage where my Dad worked on his high performance funny car. Sometimes he was part of the pit crew and traveled with us to races. I have vivid memories of him teasing me as I pushed the broom around the garage. He was just sort of a fixture around the shop and, as with my other encounters with racial diversity, his blackness never really meant anything to me one way or the other. I just never thought about it.

Until I reconnected with him as an adult. I had just moved back to the area where I grew up here in Northeast Ohio. He was still living here, working now as a janitor in the school system where my kids attended. We were chatting and just catching up a bit when his mood changed from jovial to serious. His eyes moistened as he recounted a memory he had of my Dad. Evidently, they had been traveling together in the 70s in the South – funny car in tow as they headed to a drag race to compete. Weary from their long day of travel, they went to check into a hotel. No problem, right? Wrong. My Dad was welcome to stay the night in the hotel… but Billie was not. According to Billie, my Dad refused the room too. He wouldn’t have Billie sleeping in the truck while he had a bed. Clearly, it was a deeply impacting event for Billie.

That story had a huge impact on me too. Not because of my Dad’s action (though I do remember breathing a huge sigh of gratitude and awe at God’s goodness in giving me parents of such conviction and example – I’ve learned so much from them!). But, something else shifted in me in that moment. It hit me like a ton of bricks. My Dad wasn’t the hero of that story. My proclivity to view everything through my white eyes, was tempted to make him such. The truth is, Billie is the main character of that story. BAM!

Like a vending machine about to spit out something yummy, the coins were dropping for me in that moment. Things started to click in a way they never had before. My old friend Billie had experienced life through a lens that was very different than my lens. He had lived through things I never had to deal with. I’d never been turned away from a hotel because of my skin color. I have no idea what that feels like. What other prejudices and slights had he been dealing with his whole life that I was oblivious to?

It’s not that I hadn’t had people of color in my life all along the way. I’d had black friends over the years. I’d even done ministry with a small group of black students at Bowling Green State University in the late 1990s. Jua, Lohn, and Audrea were precious to me. I’d mentored students of color over the years. I have always delighted in other cultures and have enjoyed living in university towns for most of my adult life because they tend to be more ethnically diverse than other suburban towns.

But, this moment with Billie was pivotal for me. My eyes were open to a whole new reality that, unbeknownst to me, had been there all along. As part of the majority culture, I just hadn’t noticed it. No one has ever followed me through a store. Or locked their car doors because I happened to be walking by with my friends. I’ve never gotten stuck on the hiring committee because the dean says it needs a black person – as if my presence meets a quota instead of being valued as a real contributor. I’ve never had anyone look at me with suspicion for walking through the neighborhood where my house is located. I’ve never had someone eye me with disgust at a traffic light because they question whether or not I deserve to have a car that is nicer than theirs.

The Journey Continues

That conversation with Billie was 10 to 15 years ago. Since then, God has had me on the hot seat, continuing to push me. Another coin dropped when someone yelled the N-word out the window at a friend as the two of us walked downtown Kent. Another coin dropped when my son was profiled with his black friends in a store. Another when I realized that some of my Christian black friends viewed the same current events through different eyes than I had always assumed. Another when I talked to a friend whose husband had reached a sort of glass ceiling in his job – not because of his talent but because of his color – today in the North! Another when I read The Warmth of Other Suns and books like it. Another when Rick and I started going deeper in our friendship with Pastor Bryndon and his wife Yvonne, looking for ways for our churches to truly partner.

Here’s the place I’m coming to: It’s one thing to not look down on someone because of their color or ethnicity. That’s where I had been for most of my life. I was comfortable there and even sort of proud of my background – truly, I remain very thankful for that background.

But God has been pushing me further because it’s another thing to try to actually empathize and understand what someone else lives day in and day out. To be aware of the slights going on all around me. Not to pity them or have a white savior complex like I need to be the hero of their story. But to just enter into it with them. To have conversations. To be a voice for bridging the misunderstandings. To look at history with different eyes – to be proud of my country’s heritage in many ways but honest about the many ugly things both in our history and in our modern psyche. To apologize when I need to but not be consumed with unhelpful, white guilt. This is the hard work of building on that initial foundation. And I’m still very much a work in progress. I hope I always will be. (Maybe not quite so clumsy with it… )

For better or for worse, this is my journey. This is where God has me right now and I know He’ll keep upending the junk in my life so that I see it. He’ll push me forward, out of my comfort zone and into His perfect will. Because He’s good like that.

And He knows I’m a better woman for the friends of other colors and cultures who are in my life.

A Few Good Women

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I don’t know if I’ve ever told you how much I love these three beautiful women. And when I say beautiful, I don’t just mean outward (though that is true too). For now, I’m talking about the inward. These women have some precious hearts. Each one has a different story. They come from different parts of the country with different backgrounds and nuances to their lives. They each have unique gifts and strengths and passions. They have each touched my heart in different ways as I have watched them seek to live out their faith with fear and trembling before our good and gracious God.

The glue that binds us together? Our husbands are all ministry staff at our church. As the lead pastor’s wife, I have the privilege of loving on these girls and getting to do life with them. Sometimes that means just the four of us getting away for the weekend. Sometimes it means reading a book together or grabbing dinner out or huddling up together on a Sunday morning to pray for each other. Sometimes it just means texting funny GIFs to each other. However it looks, I know for sure that we need it.

Because being a ministry wife is a unique thing for a few reasons:

  1. Our husbands live pretty public lives so that often means we live pretty public lives.
  2. The health of our families can directly affect the health of our church so we each feel an extra sense of stewardship as we live out Biblical womanhood.
  3. A healthy, local church is more like a family than a job. Which is a beautiful thing. But, it also means a level of vulnerability and friendship among the staff and the congregation that I wouldn’t necessarily have with my husband’s work relationships if he were the CEO of a corporation.
  4. Ministry is demanding and sometimes very weighty. Our husbands don’t clock in and clock out. They just don’t. There are days when they come home bearing heavy burdens. Most of those are confidential issues and not things they share with us; but I can tell when my man comes home saddened by something that is happening with one of his church members.
  5. People don’t always like the decisions our husbands make or the things they say from up front. Remember #3? So, yeah, that feels kind of yucky sometimes.
  6. Spiritual battle is real. And leadership is often at the center of it.

Those are not complaints. They’re just realities. All four of us love what God is doing in our midst and we adore our church family. Thankfully, we are part of a church culture that values authenticity coupled with the gospel. So, I don’t feel a ton of pressure to be a perfect family. People are very gracious with my kids and me.

But, I’m so grateful for this little circle of staff wives who “get” me and the life to which God has called me. I love that we have each other’s backs and pray for each other and invest in each other. In the last year alone, we have cried together and laughed together and celebrated together and talked deeply about the things of God together.

It’s really a lovely thing. And, who wouldn’t want to do life with these ladies? Duh.