God's Grace is Awesome!

"God's Grace is Awesome"
Ephesians 1:3-14

“How blessed is God!...Long before he laid down earth’s foundations, he had us in mind, had settled on us as the focus of his love, to be made whole and holy by his love. Long, long ago he decided to adopt us into his family through Jesus Christ. (What pleasure he took in planning this!) He wanted us to enter into the celebration of his lavish gift-giving by the hand of his beloved Son.”
“Because of the sacrifice of the Messiah, his blood poured out on the altar of the Cross, we’re a free people – free of penalties and punishments chalked up by all our misdeeds. And not just barely free, either. Abundantly free!...It’s in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for. Long before we first heard of Christ and got our hopes up, he had his eye on us, had designs on us for glorious living, part of the overall purpose he is working out in everything and everyone.” (Eugene Peterson, The Message (Colorado Springs: NavPress Publishing Group, 1993), p. 402)

He was known by most people as Tom Weber. I called him "Coach." While in college I periodically went home on Friday nights to watch the high school football team play. I would often run into "coach" and we would talk. During one of those chance encounters he said to me, "Hey, Bill, you can call me Tom now." I said, "Thanks, coach." It took me several more years before I could do it.

(I shared most of what I'm going to share in this post in a sermon on the above Ephesians text when I was serving the Lima Trinity United Methodist Church. I used Tom's and my relationship to illustrate God's grace. Part of the service was on the local radio station at noon each Sunday which meant some folks in Ottawa would sometimes turn it on to listen to it. Apparently several did that day because I received numerous letters and phone calls from people who appreciated what I shared about Tom. When Tom passed away a number of years later his wife, Marilyn, and children further honored me by asking me to share what I said in my sermon during his funeral. What follows is the rest of that sermon.)

There's a lot more to the story of why Tom Weber had a significant role in my life than simply the fact that he was my high school basketball coach. Coach Weber demanded a lot of respect. And when I say demanded, I don't mean he verbally insisted on it. Rather, it was his mere presence - his personality - his command of the settings he entered. He was tall - strong - had a really deep and powerful voice - and he could play a pretty mean game of ball himself. He knew the game of basketball and he knew what he wanted his players to do in order for the team to be successful.
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Well, there was this one 5’8” guard who thought he knew his basketball too. Some claimed he had a tendency to play a little out of control. Some said he dribbled too much and that he tried too hard to prove how good a passer he was by trying to thread the ball between opposing ballplayer’s outstretched hands. He also had a tendency to give into the temptation to play the game at the fastest tempo possible. So, sometimes Coach Weber had to get in this particular guard’s face which usually resulted in me having to take a seat on the bench next to him or down on the end depending on how upset we were with each other.

​Coach Weber coached a lot of big games in his coaching career. My senior year we were ranked second in the state and only lost two games – one during the season and one in the tournament, both to the same team. But, coach also fought some pretty significant health battles over the years – surviving an aneurism and a bone marrow transplant to combat leukemia. I believe it was lung cancer that finally took his life.

​The year before he passed away I was inducted into my high school’s Hall of Fame. I asked Tom to introduce me. But, I didn’t ask him to do it because he was a great basketball coach, although he was – nor did I ask him because of how he handled his health problems, although there’s much to be admired in how he did that as well. You see, in the middle of my second year in college, I applied for a position at a YMCA camp near Akron, Ohio – Camp Y-Noah. Near the end of the interview the director of the camp, Bob Wells, said something like, “I think you should know it was because of your high school basketball coach’s recommendation that we invited you here to be interviewed. He sure thinks a lot of you.”
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I was speechless, flattered, humbled, ashamed and proud all at the same time. All the way home I wrestled with what Tom had done for me in spite of my obnoxious, cocky, know-it-all, stubborn basketball player I was for him. And, what he did has been one of the things that has shaped me into the kind of person I’ve been ever since. It’s made a difference in my theology – it’s made a difference in how I’ve dealt with hard to handle, even hard to like young people – it’s made a difference in who I’ve been and how I’ve done my ministry – it’s made a difference in how I’ve responded to those with different ideas than mine – it’s made a huge difference. Grace makes a difference. It’s amazing – it’s awesome what experiencing grace can do to a person.

​Grace – it’s amazing – it’s awesome – it’s not deserved – it doesn’t have to be offered – it can’t be earned.
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Some of the words which make up our religious dictionary suffer from overuse. That is, they’ve been used so much or so inappropriately that they’ve, for the most part, lost their meaning – their power – their significance – their richness. But, as far as I’m concerned grace isn’t one of those words – one of those concepts. If anything, it suffers from a lack of use. The thought of a good God actively seeking us – sinful, weak, sorrowful, miserable, lonely people that we are – seeking us, is a concept we need to understand and accept and experience and share and offer and believe.

Frederick Buechner writes in his book, Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC: "Grace is something you can never get but only be given.  There's no way to earn it or deserve it or bring it about any more than you can deserve the taste of raspberries and cream or earn good looks or bring about your own birth.
"A crucial eccentricity of the Christian faith is the assertion that people are saved by grace. There is nothing you have to do. There's nothing you have to do. There's nothing you have to do.” (1)

The letter to the Ephesians was written by Paul while he was in prison. In the original Greek the portion above was this one, very long, single sentence. It's believed that the reason it was written that way was because Paul was so filled with emotion about the wonderfulness of God's activity on our behalf that the examples of God's graciousness just kept tumbling out of him - that he was so caught up with the wonder of God's work through Christ on our behalf that he simply could not stop for breath. The passage takes on this almost lyrical song of praise - a litany of those things which reveal God's gracious nature to us - each phrase chosen to capture a storehouse of evidence of God's gracious work in our lives. The really well-known and highly respected Bible scholar William Barclay wrote about the passage: "Paul's mind goes on and on, not because he is thinking in logical stages, but because gift after gift and wonder after wonder from God pass before his eyes and enter into his mind.” (2)

God’s grace – God’s amazing grace – that’s what so excited Paul – that’s what kept him going despite all the hardships he had to endure. Prison was nothing in comparison to the hope of heaven – in comparison to being chosen by God – in comparison to being a member of God’s family through adoption – in comparison to unmerited forgiveness.
In response to the question, “Why do we call grace amazing?” one preacher wrote: “Grace is amazing because it works against the grain of common sense. Hard-nosed common sense will tell you that you are too wrong to meet the standards of a holy God; pardoning grace tells you that it’s all right in spite of so much in you that is wrong.

“Realistic common sense tells you that you are too weak, too harassed, too human to change for the better; grace gives you power to send you on the way to being a better person.

“Plain common sense may tell you that you are caught in a rut of fate or futility; grace promises that you can trust God to have a better tomorrow for you than the day you have made for yourself.”

Have you experienced the healing quality of God’s amazing grace in your life? Do you understand that God wants to adopt you into the holy family? Do you understand that God wants to bestow on you – to put inside you – a sense of worthiness – a sense of peace – a sense of hope - a sense of joy? Do you understand that God wants to do this for you even though you feel unworthy – even though you don’t deserve it? God’s grace is a free gift. Do you want what God has to offer? Healing from your anger? – Forgiveness of your sins? – Release from the stranglehold of guilt? I invite you to open up your heart and let God’s grace have its way in you - in your heart, soul, mind and body.

Oh, and thanks "coach" for embodying this theological reality!

1 Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC (San Francisco: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1973), p. 33 – 34.
2 William Barclay, The Letters to the Galatians and Ephesians (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1958), p. 88.

What to do?

What to write about? I've been mulling around in my head some thoughts related to the movie 42, the story of Branch Rickey's and Jackie Robinson's courageous journey together opening up Major League Baseball. I've also been contemplating how to talk about my experience with drugs interacting with one another with which I dealt a couple of weeks ago - causing me to cancel a trip to DC to advocate for ALS research dollars. And then, there's gun safety/control, the lack of civility among our politicians, corporate profit/greed, and innumerable other topics. I'll probably get back to a few of the above in the coming weeks. But, today my thoughts revolve around the Moore, Oklahoma tornado and the tragedy it has thrust upon us.

"I want to throw some things in my van and head for Oklahoma." There was a day when I really would have been tempted to do just that. In fact, a few years ago I was thinking that might be something I could do for the first few years after I retired - you know, before the physical limitations took control of my life. Thank goodness there are those who are able to respond in this way today and are doing so!

I've been watching quite a bit of the media coverage and pondering the different roles people are playing. I mean, wow! Leading the way were those first responders - neighbors who poured scared out of their own storm cellars and immediately started looking for others in need of help, people from the area rushing into the bowels of hell hoping against all odds to be able to rescue those still alive but trapped in the twisted rubble, knowing full well they might come across something that would turn them inside out. A governor, mayor, police chief, fire chief, President Obama, FEMA exec, etc., offering words of encouragement and hope while rolling up their sleeves readying for the next important phases of cooperating to get people prepared for the hard physical and emotional work ahead. And at the same time, in preparation for providing the basic immediately needed resources of food, water, shelter, and comfort, the Red Cross and the trained and experienced faith-based disaster relief organizations are there or on their way.

So, while watching all of this I began to ponder anew the question that haunts me from this vantage point of my existence: "What can I do?" "What can any of us do, right now?" Well, we know from past experience that there will be a day for physical labor but not now. They don't need us to throw a bunch of stuff in our vans and head to Oklahoma and add to the confusion and congestion. Most of us need to stay out of the way for awhile. We know that it's not time to empty our full closets of clothes we no longer want or need.

The truth of the matter is that what most of us are going to be able to do is quite simply to be prepared to open our purses and billfolds and checkbooks. There was a time when I was somewhat critical of people who gave money instead of getting involved personally. I now know and more fully appreciate the tremendously important role of those of us who can give to be generous with our gifts. Besides writing a post here and there, it is what a person like me can do. Our gifts will go to UMCOR - United Methodist Committee on Relief - because I know 100% of what I give goes directly to the relief effort because we've already underwritten the administrative costs through other giving. OK, done with the commercial. The important thing is that we all get ready to give through whatever channel we trust.

But, there's another important role we all can play and that is we can pray. We can pray our corporate efforts will provide the necessary resources - that people will be available to hug and cry with those in need of such ministries of compassion - that a spirit of cooperation will guide the combined efforts of the various relief organizations - and, oh so much more. Do you mind if I offer a word or two that may sound a bit preachy? Please, please may we not be silent when some of our simpleton religious types attempt to claim this natural disaster is some statement/judgement by God about something God is unhappy about! My concern is not about protecting God's reputation but about protecting innocent people from having to put up with unnecessary and inappropriate pain.

Peace, friends!    

One of Us Died Today

I could write this post every day. The more I live with ALS the more people I know who are also living with it and, sadly, the more I know who are dieing from it. This morning one of my young facebook friends posted that it's been a year since her grandfather passed away from ALS. At the time of his death I wrote the below piece. I wasn't yet blogging, but thought this might be a good post for today. Thanks, Kelsey, for the reminder!

"Thursday, May 17, 2012

Well, the phone call you know is coming but you don't want it to brought us the news: "Yogi died this morning at about 4 a.m."  It was my wife's brother on the other end.  He and many of the people he runs around with were friends of Yogi's.  Yogi (Gene) had a lot of friends and family.  PALS (Persons With ALS) often find out just how many as they take the journey this ugly disease maps out - albeit a bit fuzzy since none of our maps seem to be the same.  We are told that early on but the more we meet and share with one another the more profoundly we come to realize its truth.   Yogi was diagnosed about the same time I was in the fall of 2010.  He's gone and while I'm certainly worse than I was then, I'm nowhere near death.

Yogi was a great guy - deeply loved by many.  His family and friends wanted to make sure he knew that.  Our relationship was primarily that we shared the journey of this dreaded disease, were both from Putnam county, enjoyed our athletics, and had family and friends who knew one another, knew what we had in common and kept us informed of one another's condition.  People want to do something when they learn you have ALS - anything to be helpful, to let you know they care and are willing to be part of the team fighting this ridiculously life-altering disease with no known cure or cause.  Granddaughters rally high school student councils to help raise funds; nieces, sisters, and sons and daughters order t-shirts and send emails to others to raise funds and gather people together with the hope that numbers will overwhelm the dastardly disease or at least challenge it's position; high school baseball coaches propose that a scheduled league game be used as an awareness building event and to celebrate the lives of two men from their respective communities; spouses organize benefits and rallies and slowly take on more and more of the day-to-day care of us - sometimes while still holding down jobs or/and caring for children - and generally reorient their lives around our needs/wants/realities.

Yes, one of the fraternity/sorority whose only membership requirement is that you are a PALS has lost the physical fight.  His body no longer must hope that research will come up with a quick cure, must strain to accomplish the simplest of tasks, must have an active mind trapped inside it.  But the battle will still be waged, Yogi, in your memory and honor, by those who remain who loved you and those of us who share your condition and fight."

And it will be waged in memory and honor of so many others!


Blessings and peace friends!


Bill

Sermon: Music's Influence

Sermon: "Music's Influence"
Acts 16:9-15    

* Historian Thomas Carlyle wrote: "Music is well said to be the speech of angels; in fact, nothing among the utterances allowed to (man) is felt to be so divine. It brings us near to the infinite."
* Church reformer and founder of the Lutheran Church, Martin Luther, once noted: "The devil takes flight at the sound of music, just as he does the words of theology, and for this reason the prophets always combined theology and music, the teaching of truth and the chanting of Psalms and hymns."

Music - the speech of angels - the voice of God - a vehicle God sometimes uses to get into our hearts or brains or wills in order to impact a message. I love listening to it and I use to love playing it. I certainly wasn't as talented a musician as many of my friends, but I enjoyed getting out my clarinet once in awhile over the years and playing it - sometimes for the entertainment of others, but usually to let the music heal my inner cravings for something I'm not even sure I can name.

I shared in a post a few weeks ago how difficult it's been to give up singing and how helpful the community of faith has been as I've come to understand them as being my voice when they sing on Sunday mornings. In this post I want to share with you a glimpse of at least one of the sources of that appreciation for music. His name was Louie Breece - Louie was how he was affectionately and respectfully known. He was another one of the Ottawa-Glandorf teaching legends that helped shape so many of us. He was the high school band director. He passed away a number of years ago after fighting cancer for several years. He's the reason I still have my clarinet. Here's how it happened.

You might say I was overcommitted my senior year in high school - football, basketball, track, band, student body president, local and county Youth Fellowship President - you get the picture. Several adults close to me sensed I was heading for trouble. My parents finally sat me down and said: "Bill, something has to go."

There was no question by that time that athletics were going to at least be my partial ticket to college and many people were counting on me to fulfill the responsibilities of the leadership positions I held. The simple truth was the band didn't need me. As I mentioned earlier, there were many more talented than me. And so, we decided that was the one that had to go. I cannot begin to convey to you how much I dreaded the thought of going into Louie's office to tell him.

You see, Louie was also one of the reasons I played football. My parents didn't think I was big enough to play my freshman year so I was in the marching band. It was obvious to Louie that he had plenty of clarinetists for a marching band and what he really needed was a bass drum player. He asked me if I'd do it. Probably partially because it felt prestigious and my ego was in need of a little bolstering, I agreed to do it. Besides, I didn't know if it was allowed to say no to Louie.
Oh, my gosh! Playing the bass drum was a whole lot more difficult/challenging/harder than I ever imagined it would be! It wasn't just the carrying around of the bass drum that made it challenging, it was Louie's practices! Sometime in the middle of marching band season I made up my mind that I was going to dedicate myself to doing everything possible to play football the next year. I just knew two-a-day football practices had to be easier than Louie's two-a-days!

Although that was the end of my marching band career, I did continue  to play in the concert band and a group  of us formed a little rock and roll band, the Cymbols. We played at school dances, area parties, political gatherings, and a few places I'm pretty sure my coaches would have preferred we not have.

At any rate, what made going to tell Louie that I was quitting the band difficult wasn't just the fact that he was a tough band director. It was that I knew he loved music and I was afraid he wouldn't understand my decision - that he would be hurt by my decision - that he would perceive my choice as a choice against him and music - that he would be disappointed in me.

Well, after I shared with Louie what I felt I had to do, he leaned back in his chair and he took a couple of draws on the pipe he smoked (yes, in school!) and said words something like these to me: "Billy," he was one of the few people besides my mother and aunts who could still call me that, "Billy, I wish you well.  But, I'd like you to promise me one thing - that you won't get rid of your  clarinet." I'm sure he noticed the look of disbelief and confusion on my face because he continued: "Because one day when you can no longer play ball or run, and there will come that day, you'll pick that clarinet back up and play it again."

I never was able to part with my clarinet and I have it to this day. He was right. Over the years I have picked it up periodically and played some of the old rock and roll tunes I enjoyed playing with the Cymbols. My wife preferred I went to the basement when I got the urge at home. Church secretaries rolled their eyes and closed their doors when I played in the office. I certainly didn't play as much I would have liked to, but I was able to when I wanted to because Louie had enough self-control or insight or professionalism or compassion or something to react to me with what he thought was good for me and not with what might be good for him or the band. I was what was important to him - my life journey was what was important to  him. I know that today  in a way I did not know it at the time.

My sense is that a voice occupies a place in my head and heart as a result of Louie's reaction to me. Oh, there've been others along the way who've contributed to the presence of that voice to be sure. But the point is, the voice influenced me, helped shape me and my ministry. Louie  understood his role as a teacher was not to just make the band the best it could be, which he did, but it was to help people on their journeys through life to be and to do what was best for them. He modeled for me the kind of leader - the kind of parent - the kind of parent I wanted to be. He's at least one of the reasons that I committed to a style of ministry that tried to help people on their journeys of faith sort out their own faith rather than a style that tried to mold people into what I felt their journeys should be and what their faith should be. Quite simply, our beliefs do not have to be in jeopardy, our lives do not have to be threatened when someone else shares that they experience the faith differently. I think Louie, in part, for the voice that resided in me and guided me.

Unknowingly, Louie gave me another gift. He may have had a favorite style of music, but there was no question that he appreciated a variety of music genres. Sure he directed the high school marching and concert band so there was the marching and classical music. He also played in a group that entertained at the Black Angus most weekends. There he played big band, pop, polka, even some early rock and roll. I never thought about whether one style of music was better than another - more important - more ... it never came up. Music was just to be experienced and enjoyed in all its variety.

And so, there's always been a place in my listening to music times for classical, Gospel, folk, jazz, traditional hymns, camp songs, rock and roll, praise, and even country once in awhile. Sure I have my favorites - jazz and early rock and roll. But there are times in my life when I need and prefer something else. The important life lesson here for me is that the issue is not that one is better than the other but that all have a role in the enjoyment and appreciation of life. From Louie I learned to be tolerant and accepting of the different likes of persons - the different needs of people.

In a sermon I crafted several years ago using the influence of Louie on my attitudes I spent a few minutes reflecting on what this has to say about our attitudes toward an array of worship styles. I'm not going to requote all the illustrations, etc. from that sermon, but only offer the summation of my bruised position. It's not about one style of worship being more authentic than another! Putting down past styles or contemporary attempts is a waste of our community energy and spirit! Sometimes I get the feeling we worship a worship style rather than God to whom the worship is directed!

The book of Acts is the story of the growth of the church. It's the story of the early disciples hearing the voice of God in their hearts to open up the community of faith to more than the people of Israel. Peter received a vision at one point that inspired him to invite a Gentile to be a follower. In Acts 16:9-15, the lectionary text for a few weeks ago, Paul received a vision that suggested he should go into Macedonia - into the Greek world and preach the good news. He did, and the church grew and grew. The leader of that Macedonian movement was a woman convert by the name of Lydia. The early church, the church of St. Peter and St. Paul, would be appalled at who we attempt to keep out - keep out of leadership positions - claiming one worshipping style more authentic than another. What should motivate us is what's best for the good news to be shared and experienced.

Well, my original intent was to create a sermon about music being one of the ways we can hear God's voice in our lives. But, I think the more important message is that God's voice can be heard in our hearts, minds, guts, wills through many different mediums. It's about being tolerant and open and accepting and hospitable - for the good of the message and the development of the Kingdom of God. It's about the message, the Savior, not about the medium. I think that's what St. Peter and St. Paul are trying to tell us through the stories we have about their work. I think it's what Louie prepared me to hear in his own, unique way.

Blessings and peace to you all!

A Beautiful Person: Inside and Out

It was the summer of 1966 - the summer between my junior and senior years in high school (yes, I'm that old!). I was one of the fortunate juniors to be selected to attend the American Legion's Buckeye Boys' State held in Athens, Ohio at Ohio University. It was a  wonderful experience! I met guys from all over the state of Ohio and we had a blast. I was appointed Director of Youth Services (I don't remember the actual title, but that's close), a state position.

One of the things we did, whenever we had the opportunity, was we walked to downtown Athens. The mystique of being future college students filled our young heads and hearts. Many of us had girlfriends back home we missed. The choir director chose Petula Clark's hit single "Downtown" as a choral piece for early in the week. It was serendipitously endorsed by the masses as the theme of the week. We clamored for it to be sung over and over so we could enthusiastically and boisterously chime in whenever the word "DOWNTOWN" was called for in the song - which was often.

The song ends summarizing what it has said several times and ways before:

"The lights are much brighter there
And you may find somebody kind to help and understand you
Someone who is just like you and needs a gentle hand to
Guide them along
So maybe I'll see you there
We can forget all our troubles, forget all our cares
So go downtown
Things will be great when you're downtown
Don't wait a minute more, downtown
Everything is waiting for you, downtown
Downtown (downtown), Downtown (downtown),
Downtown (downtown), Downtown (downtown)"

The memory of that experience came to me after hearing a different Petula Clark song the other day while Dorothy and I were listening to the sixties station on our Sirrius car radio. We were returning from a few days in Amish Country in Holmes County, Ohio. We  had gone there for a few days with my sister, Phyllis, and her husband, Tim. We stayed one night at the Inn at Honey Run, something we had talked of doing several times over the years. It finally happened because Dorothy gave it to me as a Christmas' gift.

While being with Phyllis and Tim was wonderful and the Inn at Honey Run and the landscape, etc. were beautiful, it wasn't the best three days for me. I was physically uncomfortable. In fact, we departed for home a little earlier than planned. We were on I-71 just below Mansfield when the song came on - Petula Clark singing "My Love":

"My love is warmer than the warmest sunshine
Softer than a sigh
My love is deeper than the deepest ocean
Wider than the sky
My love is brighter than the brightest star
That shines every night above
And there is nothing in this world
That can ever change my love"

It brought tears to my eyes. Petula Clark's music isn't supposed to bring tears to your eyes - that light, bouncy style suggest that joy and smiles are the order of the day. And normally, that would be the case.

And then, Dorothy's hand was going for the channel changer and I didn't have to look at her to know, but I did look, and sure enough there were tears coming down her cheeks as well. We were crying because the words were true - our love for each other is warmer, softer, deeper, wider, and brighter than all of God's awesome creation! And there is nothing that will ever change that. The tears though were because of the pain we are experiencing as our reality changes - not our love, but the way we get to experience and share that love and the knowing that our physical connection is going to end sooner than we want.

Those of you who know Dorothy already know what I'm going to say next to be true. She is one of the most beautiful people in the world - physically, spiritually, emotionally, socially, personally, intellectually. She's a woman full of grace, love, compassion, understanding. She's a harmonizer - a woman who wants peace all around her. And somehow, I was fortunate enough to meet her and got to accompany her on a most amazing marital journey through life. And now, she's also my caregiver - not a role I wish for her, but one she tenderly assumes. I am grateful and in love with her more than words can ever describe!

Oh yeah, and she's a pretty awesome mother and grandmother as well!!!!!

Peace and God's blessings on you all!

My ALS Story

My ALS Story: William E. Croy, Jr.
Powell, Ohio


I am a: Husband, Father, Grandfather, Son, Brother, Uncle, Pastor, Friend, and Coach.

My life changed on August 13, 2010, when I was diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. It actually had begun to change at least 14 months earlier, we just didn't realize it yet then. The first symptom that caused me to think something was going on happened while we were on an adult mission trip with members and friends of Maple Grove United Methodist Church in June, 2009. We were on the Lakota reservation near Ft. Thompson, South Dakota. It was my third mission trip to that site and I was ready to do my part to improve the lives of these wonderful people. The only problem was my body, especially my legs, kept urging me to rest much sooner than I ever had to on past such trips. At first I attributed it to being another year older, although deep inside I must admit I suspicioned it was something more.

Then came a family vacation to Myrtle Beach and Oak Island near Southport, North Carolina in July, 2009. We would start to walk the beach and I would have to stop, again much sooner than on past vacations. I began to be concerned although still rationalized another year of age or perhaps some developing heart issues. It wasn't until I was seeing a physical therapist in the early fall for a nagging shoulder injury that something more serious was suspicioned. She asked if I was on a statin and hearing from me in the affirmative suggested that I go see my family doctor immediately for the lack of muscle tone in my neck suggested I might be having a reaction to the drug.

After being off the statin for a few months and the symptoms continuing to worsen and the addition of some others, the doctor and I agreed that more testing should be pursued. The "probably ALS" diagnosis followed an unbelievable array of tests including trips to the Cleveland Clinic where the diagnosis was finally made.

Some of the symptoms that surfaced during the 14 months (and we now believe perhaps several months prior) included a feeling of exhaustion in my legs after a minimum amount of exertion, a raspiness in my voice (at first only detected by me), it becoming a strain to lead a whole worship service resulting in my remaining seated for most of the service and no longer singing with the congregation. I early on suspicioned what it was but my medical doctor and others remained hopeful that it was something else - a reaction to being on a statin, lyme's disease, some chemical imbalance caused by .... anything but ALS. I had read the Lou Gehrig story as a young boy and remembered commenting to myself after reading it: "boy there's a disease I hope I never get!"

ALS is an ugly disease! Once we knew what we were dealing with my wife, Dorothy, and I decided that I would retire: 1) because we knew I could no longer do the work of a pastor, and 2) because we wanted to spend as much time together, with family, and traveling as possible with the limited projected life expectancy. Thanks to the wisdom and alertness of representatives of the United Methodist Church I was advised to go on long-term incapacity leave as a better option for my care. I knew that I was facing getting progressively worse and that would include possibly losing the ability to walk, talk or even breathe. What I didn't know was that the normal life expectancy was two to five years following diagnosis. That news hit us like a ton of bricks! Of course, on this journey we've met people who've lived much longer than that and some who were diagnosed after me who are already gone. It just doesn't work the same way in every person which is part of the frustration of dealing with it and receiving treatment.

Besides causing me to give up a very satisfying career as a pastor, this disease has robbed me of the active life I led prior to its working its mean way through my body. Just to give a glimpse of what that life was like:  I was a high school and college athlete participating on the Ottawa-Glandorf basketball, football and track teams; and the Ohio Northern University football and track teams. I was a United Methodist Church pastor serving churches in Miamisburg, Urbana, Lima, Columbus and Worthington for 38 years. Much of my ministry included being an active youth minister. I helped found and coached age-group track and field teams in Miamisburg, Urbana and Lima and I helped develop two day-care centers in Urbana and Lima. I was the first chairperson of the Downtown Lima, Inc., a revitalization effort; served as a trustee at Ohio Northern University for 19 years; taught a youth ministry course at ONU; and was a strong advocate for the needs of the poor and disadvantaged wherever I served. I loved to hike and work out! I was an active and enthusiastic guy!

But most importantly, I was a husband, father and grandfather with lots of energy - the one who often led the way on hikes, family vacations, boating, and working out. How I am able to fulfill those roles is pretty messed up today as a result of my fight with ALS. We still go a lot, but I do a lot more observing from my wheelchair. It's hard for me to eat very much and to even carry on a conversation. That is especially hard not to be able to do with your spouse, children and grandchildren. I have spent all day, every day in a power wheelchair for the last year and a half. I can still transfer to a chair, toilet or shower but every movement is extremely exhaustive. Let me say it another way: it takes real effort every morning to get up, shower, get dressed and eat breakfast! It's hard and exhausting! I sleep with the aid of a bipap machine and as of a few months ago am using it as well several hours a day depending on what else I try to do. I also spend a great deal of time on my iPad blogging about ALS and its effects on my life as well as posting sermons, reading, catching up with people on Facebook and by email, and yes, I play some games.

A year and a half ago I heard of a fairly new procedure providing some help for persons with deteriorating diaphragms called a Diaphragm Pacing System. I went to the Cleveland Clinic in June, 2012 to be tested as a candidate for the procedure. Even though the tests did not suggest I was a good candidate, the doctor felt that it might be worth a try since I looked so good. In surgery it was determined that my diaphragm was not working good enough to benefit from leaving the system in. While disappointed I learned much from Dr. Onders about how I am able to still breath despite the lack of a functioning diaphragm. He explained that my neck, back, stomach and thoracic muscles were compensating. This also helped explain why I was in so much back and neck pain and was the beginning of my increased use of the bipap during the day.

I am very thankful for the power wheelchair, our handicapped accessible van, new handicapped accessible home, the iPad, and the new eye-gaze communication device that I will use when I can no longer type with my hands. Most of all though, I am appreciative of all my wife, Dorothy, does for me to keep me sane, fed, clothed, showered, and functioning. I am also thankful for my son, Jeremy, daughter, Megan, daughter-in-law, Meladie, grandchildren (Evan, Corinne, and William) and our brothers and sisters and their spouses, nieces and nephews, cousins, church members and friends who support us emotionally with their encouragement and offers of help. Many more people are effected by the progression and lack of understanding of this disease than just those of us who must cope with and fight the physical realities of it! The evidence is in the multitude of people who send us encouraging notes, sign letters of support to our politicians, make donations for ALS Walks, organize high school baseball benefits and other kinds of benefits to help spread the message of what can be done and needs to be done.

I hope for a better understanding of the causes for ALS! I am hopeful that cures will be found that will at least help PALS (People with ALS) live a better and longer life! Over 370 of our friends and family have sent letters with us to present to Senators Brown and Portman. Many of those same people and many others have helped us raise over $67,000 in the last two Walks to Defeat ALS! But with all that, we know it will take a lot more to successfully change the effects of this deadly disease.

I believe we can find an effective treatment and cure but we need your help to continue the progress we’ve made over the past few years at CDC and DOD.  Please support our 2013 public policy priorities:

Appropriate $10 million to continue the National ALS Registry at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
Appropriate $10 million to continue the ALS Research Program (ALSRP) at the Department of Defense (DOD).
Cosponsor the MODDERN Cures Act


Thank you for your time and for listening to my ALS story.


Sincerely,

William (Bill) E. Croy, Jr.

William (Bill) E. Croy, Jr.