Blood, Fire, and Smoke: a Pentecost Caregiving Tale

May 19

“Then, after doing all those things,
I will pour out my Spirit upon all people.
Your sons and daughters will prophesy.
Your old men will dream dreams, and your young men will see visions.
In those days I will pour out my Spirit
even on servants—men and women alike.
And I will cause wonders in the heavens and on the earth—
blood and fire and columns of smoke.
The sun will become dark,
and the moon will turn blood red before that great and terrible day of the Lord arrives.
But everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved…”
 (Joel 2:28-32a, NLT)

When you are caregiving for someone with dementia, holidays rarely go as planned. In fact, unplanned meltdowns, medical crises and trips to the ER were more the norm for our holidays for several years. Pentecost weekend in 2023 was no exception. This Pentecost also landed on the same weekend as Memorial Day weekend. For this weekend we had planned to take Tina’s mom, Nola - who at this stage in her Lewy Body dementia was now living in Memory Care - to First Nazarene Church of Lebanon for Sunday morning service. Loving and accepting her so unconditionally, this congregation made our Sunday trips a highlight of the week for Nola. They were often the times we saw her spirit most soar.

We had planned to follow the worship service with lunch and then ice cream at our favorite Mexican-owned creamery in Lebanon, Delicias La Michoacana (If you are ever in Lebanon, you must check out their ice cream). This was going to be followed up with a cookout at our home on Memorial Day, where our good friend and former neighbor Alicia was to come and bring some cajun-spiced chicken quarters to grill. Nola loved Alicia and they had formed a special bond while Alicia (and husband Jay and son Anthony) lived next door. It was all well planned out. What could go wrong?

At something like 4am Sunday morning my phone rang. It was the nurse’s station at Memory Care. That’s never a good phone call. Nola had fallen sometime in the early hours of the morning, hit her head on the corner of a nightstand, and had been bleeding profusely. Everywhere. When they found her, she had likely been in that state and highly disoriented for well over an hour. The nurse told me her apartment looked like a crime scene. (Trigger alert for anyone with blood issues) There was so much blood, in fact, the paramedics had to park the gurney in the hall for fear of slipping.

We rushed to the Emergency Room and spent the next several hours answering questions, mitigating confusion, trying to keep Nola calm (and in her hospital bed) while they stapled and dressed her head wound. It was a long, beleaguering morning. And then, after running blood tests, brain scans, x-rays, and vital checks, released her by noon the same day having concluded she was actually fine! It was certainly miraculous, but meant a lot more unplanned trips, rapid apartment clean-up, and spot decisions about care for the next few days.

By Monday afternoon things had started to calm down, and she was slightly more stable emotionally. We decided we’d at least try to follow-through with an abbreviated cookout with our good friends. But having little sleep and feeling completely overwhelmed and exhausted didn’t make for good grilling decisions. After throwing the cajun-marinated chicken quarters on the grill, I closed the grill and went inside to prepare some additional items. It felt like only a few minutes, but I glanced out the window to see an enormous column of black smoke billowing up from the grill. I rushed outside, threw open the grill to giant “tongues of fire” lapping at our sad incinerated cajun chicken quarters. It was too late. They were black as tar.

An ironic thought came to mind almost instantly. We have had our Pentecost weekend. Blood…Fire… and billows of smoke. But where, I wondered, had I experienced the Holy Spirit? When you’re in crisis, it’s hard to feel you have any experiential encounter with God’s Spirit. But maybe my expectations were skewed.

Finding Biblical Meaning

How in the world do I find Biblical meaning in this shipwreck of a weekend? And how can the imagery of Pentecost speak to my caregiving experience?

Blood

In that prophecy of Joel, which is also the prelude for Peter’s great Spirit-inspired sermon at Pentecost in Acts 2, the imagery of “blood” is most closely associated with “that great and terrible day of the Lord”. For Peter, hundreds of years later, that great and terrible day of the Lord had been fulfilled just 50 or so days prior at a hill called “Golgotha” (‘Calvaria’ in Latin, from which we get “Calvary”). In other words, Jesus’ crucifixion. Jesus’ death on a cross was not an unfortunate end to a controversial life. It was exactly what he came for, to suffer and die in our place. And it was necessary for the greater victory to follow - His bodily resurrection and victory over the specter of death and annihilation. It was because of that unblemished blood that was shed that we can be forgiven. It was a moment in space and time history that forever changed the course of our Cosmos. Jesus had done it, and had made a way for you and I to enter into the grace and loving acceptance of God, free of charge. His blood is a very good thing.

I know there are a lot of caregiving scenarios where caregiving is done out of a sense of obligation, or perhaps is motivated by a guilt-driven form of co-dependency. Sometimes the caregiving burden is assumed out of a kind of self-martyrdom complex, or a misguided subconscious belief that it will earn restitution for other bad decisions, or make some relational past wrong, right. None of these motivations are based in love and forgiveness, and all of them are ultimately self-defeating, leading to caregiver burnout and possibly making the plight of the cared-for worse in the end.

To serve and care for others well, it means serving sacrificially. Serving sacrificially can only be truly accomplished when starting from a place of love and “forgiven-ness”. I firmly believe Jesus’ shed blood is actually the starting point for our calling as caregivers. Daily looking to our Savior, and the price he paid on that “great and terrible day”, keeps our hearts in check and helps us re-evaluate our own place of acceptance and forgiveness–the ultimate motivation for loving and caring for others, for whom Jesus also died.

Fire

“You light a lamp for me.
The LORD, my God, lights up my darkness.
In your strength I can crush an army;
with my God I can scale any wall.”
(Psalm 18:28-29, NLT)

Fire throughout the scriptures is often associated with God’s holiness, His purification, and His judgment. But it also takes on another motif more relevant to this Pentecost moment. Fire also represents consecration and God’s supernatural empowerment. While we need to start from an orientation of sacrificial love and forgiveness, our caregiving role often requires us to rise above our innate human limitations to love in impossible and unsustainable ways. For the follower of Christ, the Good News is not just that we are forgiven and saved from ultimate death. We are also consecrated - set apart - for a spiritual mission that Christ alone can empower us to fulfill. If you are a caregiver, your caregiving role is a facet of that spiritual mission, possibly even the primary facet of it during this season. And guess what? His Holy Spirit reserves are available to you. What a wonderful promise the apostle Paul gives us in Romans regarding this empowered life in the Spirit:

“If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you.”
Romans 8:11 (ESVUK)

Are you feeling that this empowerment is missing in your life? Two encouraging thoughts for you:

1) It’s actually present in ways you cannot see, mysteriously and miraculously sustaining you through unsustainable circumstances, as you cry out for His presence and strength.

2) You need only ask. Jesus’ own words in Luke are deeply reassuring, and we should take them to the bank - “So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him” (Luke 11:13, NLT)

Billows of Smoke

In the natural world, where there's smoke there is fire. In fact, smoke is often the first indicator that fire is somewhere present. It holds true in the spiritual sense too. As I was reflecting on this, my heart was drawn to Exodus and the account of Moses and the Israelites after being delivered from Egypt. If you’re familiar with this, you likely remember that God appeared to them miraculously as a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night, guiding them through the treacherous terrain that was their wilderness reality. Cloud is often interchangeable with “smoke” (think “cloud of smoke” - see Isaiah 4:5 ). But there’s another interesting mention of God’s Spirit cloud that I think hits particularly close to home for caregivers:

“Now Moses used to take a tent and pitch it outside the camp some distance away, calling it the “tent of meeting.” Anyone inquiring of the LORD would go to the tent of meeting outside the camp… As Moses went into the tent, the pillar of cloud would come down and stay at the entrance, while the LORD spoke with Moses… The LORD would speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend. Then Moses would return to the camp, but his young aide Joshua son of Nun did not leave the tent.
“Moses said to the LORD, “You have been telling me, ‘Lead these people,’ but you have not let me know whom you will send with me. You have said, ‘I know you by name and you have found favor with me.’ If you are pleased with me, teach me your ways so I may know you and continue to find favor with you. Remember that this nation is your people.”
The LORD replied, ‘My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.’”
(Exodus 33:7-14, NIV)

Throughout the Scriptures, cloud is often associated with God’s tangibly felt “manifest” presence. The visual here is powerful. God’s cloud of presence descends to the doorway as God has conversation with Moses. And it is demonstrably seen by all in the camp. What touches me here also is the way Moses pleads with the Lord.

“Lord, I didn’t ask for this. But here I am trying to do this well - caring for and guiding your people. Please help me! I don’t know where to go next, who to trust. I need help…so much help. You say you love me and are happy with me, please don’t abandon me here” (Jeremy paraphrase)

I can associate with the emotional space Moses finds himself in here. Caregiving can often feel very wilderness-like. Without any certain direction you are trying to navigate what sometimes feel like unfair decisions, where you bear great responsibility for the one (or ones) for whom you are caring. You find yourself at times pleading with God.

“My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.’

God doesn’t give Moses any quick advice or answers here. He gives him something much deeper, the promise of His presence. And it’s not just a tack-on here, He also promises something many caregivers long for…rest.

The Cloud of Smoke in Our Pentecost

(Some Practical Spiritual Lessons)

When I look back on our chaotic and traumatic Pentecost weekend of 2023 (and many similar situations throughout our journey), I don’t necessarily recall any tangible sense of God’s “manifest presence”. Real blood, real pillars of black smoke and fire in my grill, and a sense of helplessness and exhaustion do permeate my memories. But, as I look back in retrospect I can’t miss the unmistakable presence and guidance of Jesus’ Spirit. From miraculous outcomes in the ER, to unexpected timely advice from EMT transport techs about Medical Guardian and their fall-detection devices and service, to actually experiencing “rest” Monday night before full time work and life resumed without mercy on Tuesday, Jesus was there - a veritable cloud of smoke protecting, guiding, surrounding, and rest-enabling.

Many of your spiritual experiences as a caregiver are in retrospect. However, we want to encourage you to not follow our experience and example here by living in retrospect only. Force yourself in the short moments and pauses of caregiving to look for the pillar of smoke in your present reality. Instead of retreating into social media or mind-numbing streaming content (guilty, believe me), force yourself to meditate on Scripture, seek the Lord in short intervals, pleading with Him and leaning upon His many promises. There are 2 Bible/prayer apps that were, and continue to be a huge resource in my spiritual life:

The Bible with Nicky and Pippa Gumbel - daily bite-sized Bible readings that walk through the Scriptures, with rich and personal insights and applications from Nicky and Pippa Gumbel. This was my devotional staple for 2 years of full time in-home caregiving.
Lectio365 - daily bite-sized guided prayer and meditation by the folks at 24-7 Prayer ministry. Still a part of my daily devotional routine, these inspire, encourage, and challenge me in my prayer walk.

Both of these apps/tools have reading as well as audio companion resources. And of course, I’m sure there are many others out there that have been tremendous resources to you as well. We’d always love to hear about those (feel free to send them our way via our “Contact Us” page).

A Final Unexpected Observation

I was about to close the book on this reflection when I noticed something striking in the passage from Exodus 33 above. It passes quickly and can easily be overseen:

“Then Moses would return to the camp, but his young aide Joshua son of Nun did not leave the tent.”

How did I miss that little detail? It’s interesting, Moses converses and pleads with God, receives promise of presence and rest, and then eventually heads back to the camp. But not Joshua. And as if to underscore what we may have missed earlier in the account, Joshua was also present in the tent with Moses.

There is always someone else present in your desperate moments. It’s rarely obvious to us that this person is there and is watching, and in many senses “has our back”. Joshua was Moses’ protege and would go on to lead the Israelites on their next phase post-wilderness. The lessons Joshua learned while watching Moses wrestle with God in the wilderness were in no small part responsible for his courage and capability as a spiritual leader to the next generation.

Whether it’s someone sitting with you in the hospital, encouraging you with a text or phone call, or simply praying silently in the background as they watch your struggle unfold, I guarantee you that person is there. This person may be a child in your home, a neighbor’s kid, a coworker even. They are watching, learning, and most likely praying for you and rooting for your success. All the more reason to not let those few silent moments go idle, but to engage the Lord for His strength.

A Closing Prayer

I’d like to close with some words by Dr. John Dunlop and invite you into a prayer he penned:

”God’s call to care for a person with dementia is a huge challenge but in many ways a wonderful opportunity. It requires a deep humility to recognize that we cannot do it ourselves. But thanks be to God, help is available, and we need to seek it when needed.
’Heavenly Father, I know that at times you call us to things that are very difficult. I am grateful that your purpose is not just to give me a happy and secure life. Your purpose is to honor yourself by doing a work of transformation in my soul. I submit my life to you as a living sacrifice and pray that you will use it to honor your name. Give me the strength to do what is right and to share your love with others in whatever way you desire. I pray this for my good and for your honor. Amen.’”
(Finding Grace in the Face of Dementia, John Dunlop, MD)

Jeremy Long