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In God's Hands

Bishop John Lipscomb of the Episcopal Diocese of Southwest Florida has Parkinson's disease and malaria, and is on medical leave. Here he works on writing the proposal for his dissertation for his PHD.

Kathy Moore

By MICHELLE BEARDEN The Tampa Tribune

Published: Feb 25, 2007

The way John Bailey Lipscomb sees it, he got his miracles on the front end of life.

It was 1950, a time when society shunned unwed mothers and technology saved few premature babies. Lipscomb came into this world way too early, a 41/2-pound preemie born to a young woman who gave him up for reasons he never knew.

"Why I wasn't aborted or why I didn't die in the hospital, I can only owe to God," he says. "I got a real double blessing right from the start." Maybe that's why Lipscomb, 57, bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Southwest Florida since 1997, doesn't bemoan the double-whammy that hit toward the back end of life.

In 2002, he learned he had Parkinson's disease. Then, three years ago during a mission trip to Africa, he contracted malaria. Both are chronic conditions that can worsen over time.

He tried to keep working - from his commitments at the national level in the House of Bishops to his home base here, serving as spiritual leader of a diocese of some 33,000 congregants in 78 parishes stretching from Brooksville to Marco Island. His health suffered.

In December, his doctor told him to give it a rest, specifically, up to a year of medical leave.

On March 10, the Rev. Dabney Smith, formerly of New Orleans, will be consecrated as Lipscomb's coadjutor, or assistant bishop. Lipscomb hopes to return to work this year, but he knows his tenure will be cut short. Smith will eventually take over as bishop.

It's not easy, this giving up, staying still and biding time.

Lipscomb's future is out of focus. His faith is not.

"How can I be angry at God?" he asks. "He's given me so much, from the time I was born. What I do have is gratitude."

Going To The Episcopal Church

Despite the dubious start, the blessings would multiply for the tiny baby given up by his mother.

He grew strong. At 9 months, he got a permanent home with a Southern Baptist pastor and his wife. He grew up in Jacksonville, always mindful of the grace bestowed upon him.

When he was in sixth grade, an effervescent classmate named Marcie Mason caught his eye. On her 14th birthday, he asked her to go steady. Marcie went to her mother for permission.

Aren't you a little young, her mother prodded.

Oh, Mom, it's not going to last forever, she replied.

"So far, it's been forever," Lipscomb says, looking at his wife, the mother of their two grown children. "It's been a wonderful 42 years."

The young Lipscomb saw how important the church was to his love interest. So he got up early one Sunday and attended an 8 a.m. Mass of the Faithful at the Episcopal church two doors down from his father's Baptist congregation. Immediately, he felt at home.

"By age 15, I knew I wanted to be an Episcopal priest, and I knew I wanted to marry Marcie," he says.

They wed three years later. The journey as domestic partners and spiritual soul mates has taken them to institutions of higher education in Tennessee, Indiana and North Carolina, and to congregations in Florida, Louisiana and South Carolina. They've traveled the world on evangelistic trips and for denominational business.

Marcie Lipscomb committed to life with a parish priest. She hadn't counted on being a bishop's wife, which takes considerably more time. She has always had her own career - for 30 years in the communications field and now as president of her own executive coaching and conflict resolution firm. She learned to juggle the roles of professional woman, mother and clergy's spouse, even finding time to pursue her love of showing horses for eight years.

And when her husband's health deteriorated, she added medical caretaker to the list. She says her faith never wavered, but her patience sometimes does.

"I'm the pharmacist and appointment-maker," she says with a laugh. She wasn't angry so much as disappointed when John got ill. She admires her husband and wondered why he had to suffer these limitations.

"It's like, 'OK, Lord. What next? You've given him the strength; you've given him the resources; you've given him the talents. And you've given us this life together. So where do we go from here?'

"I'm just trying to listen to God, which isn't always so easy."

The couple have other concerns as well.

Their son, Matthew, a sergeant first class in the Army's 82nd Airborne, is in his second tour of duty in Iraq. John and Marcie listen to the news from that part of the world with worry. As politicians battle over whether to cut war funding or send more troops, they take it personally. This is their only son.

Last year, they took in 14-year-old Heather, Matthew's child from his first marriage. Now their Riverview home on the Alafia River includes a standard poodle and yellow Lab, Allie and Tippy, and a teenage girl. They're no longer empty-nesters enjoying the perks of being doting grandparents. Instead, they're chauffeuring Heather to and from eighth grade at Bell Shoals Academy, taking her to riding lessons at the stables, and helping her tackle math problems and composition papers at night.

The bishop loves it.

"Watching her grow up and listening to her tell the tales of what it means to be a 14-year-old these days, I had forgotten much of that, quite frankly," he says.

First Parkinson's, Then Malaria

It was Marcie who first put it out there.

For several months, Lipscomb felt weak, clumsy. He was having a hard time holding on to things. Getting out of chairs was increasingly difficult. One Sunday five years ago, they were coming out of church when she noticed how he shuffled his feet.

"What are you trying to do - look like the pope?" she asked, half-kidding, referring to the late Pope John Paul II's shuffling Parkinson's gait. Her husband turned to her, his face serious. "I think I have a problem."

He underwent testing and saw a specialist. The doctor prescribed medication for Parkinson's, and it seemed to help. His energy ebbs more than it flows, and when he's tired, he has trouble walking and grasping objects. He feels fortunate that he hasn't experienced the tremors associated with the disease.

Then malaria.

Among the many things the couple share is a passion for overseas mission work. So when they took a sabbatical in spring 2004, they chose to spend the time in Africa. They traveled to Rwanda to commemorate the Days of Remembrance of the 1994 genocide. Then it was on to Kenya to a center housing children orphaned by the AIDS epidemic. The trip wrapped up in Uganda for preaching at dioceses and visiting a seminary outside of Kampala.

Friends living in that country encouraged them to make the most of their visit. "They wanted us to have the full African experience," Lipscomb smiles. "I guess malaria comes along with that experience."

Although he and Marcie had the required vaccinations before their trip, they were later told the shots don't guarantee protection from the bite of a parasite-carrying mosquito.

It takes about 11 days to incubate in the liver; then the parasite releases into the bloodstream. On Easter, Lipscomb celebrated the 9 a.m. service at the cathedral in Kigila; by 8 p.m., he fell deathly ill. First, he was taken to a local clinic, then to a mission hospital in Kenya. In a week, he lost 23 pounds.

"The doctor said I was about eight hours from my kidneys completely shutting down," he says. "It was another one of those miraculous moments where God intervened, through prayer and using other people, to bring me back to health again."

But the malaria remains in his system, a souvenir he'll never lose. It often makes him tired and, from time to time, racks him with a flulike feverish ache.

"Even with the malaria, the trip was an incredible blessing. I witnessed great faith in people who have nothing, who felt grateful and gave thanks to the Almighty for what they did have," he says. "I don't regret going there at all."

'His Position Is Very, Very Clear'

He has never kept his health issues a secret. He wanted his flock to understand why he had to ease up on the job. Those who knew him well knew it wasn't easy for Lipscomb, reputed to be a tireless worker and a conscientious pastor.

"He's handled this with great dignity and great devotion to the Lord," says the Rev. Dennis Kezar, who came out of retirement at Lipscomb's request to take over at the once-troubled St. Mary's Episcopal Church in south Tampa. "And he's shown tremendous courage. My advice is for everyone to back off and give him this Sabbath time that he needs, so he has the chance to restore his strength."

He also did not keep his conservative stands a secret. The Rev. Ed Henley of St. Mark's Episcopal Church in Tampa refers to his boss as "on the left edge of the right wing."

Although not everyone always agreed with the bishop's views, Henley says, he managed to chart "a very sound course" for the diocese and serve as an inspiring role model.

In 2003, Lipscomb was one of 19 bishops who issued a "statement of sorrow" when New Hampshire priest V. Gene Robison was confirmed as the denomination's first openly gay bishop. A year later, he helped draft a theological statement that served as the framework for a dissident group, the Network of Anglican Communion Dioceses and Parishes.

He later said he did not support creation of the network, which threatened schism within the troubled American Episcopal Church.

Bishop William Skilton, recently retired from the Diocese of South Carolina, says his friend will be missed in the national House of Bishops.

"His position is very, very clear on issues, but he manages to minister to a wide diversity of people with love and openness," Skilton says. "That's why he's highly respected by people on both sides storming through the church."

Here at home, even clergy with decidedly more liberal views than Lipscomb's speak of him with admiration.

Six months ago, the Rev. Gigi Conner, canon evangelist at St. Peter's Cathedral in St. Petersburg, had to conduct a funeral for a young mother who had died of a drug overdose. She remembers Lipscomb calling her before the service to give her support and checking in with her afterward to see how she was doing.

He also suggested she organize a 30th anniversary celebration of the ordination of women in the Episcopal Church. Each of the diocese's 26 female priests got a cross with a rose on it, along with a personal card from the bishop and Smith, the incoming coadjutor.

"I thought that was pretty cool," she says.

Same Faith, Different Chapel

Lipscomb is a "cup is half full" kind of guy.

"Other than Parkinson's and malaria, I'm in great shape," he says.

He has more time now to kayak with Marcie, work on a novel long percolating in his head and finish his doctorate in theology at the Graduate Theological Foundation in South Bend, Ind. He's getting back into tapestry weaving. His loom got dusty and for a long time lay in pieces under the bed.

He had mostly forgotten about lazy afternoons sitting on his weathered wood deck overlooking the Alafia River, a place as sacred as any chapel. He likes the time he gets to spend with the Lord these days. When he feels stronger and the doctor gives him the go-ahead, he'll be back to serve his people.

He has always been compassionate, but now he feels a kinship with people battling chronic illnesses. He tells them to depend on prayer and God's support. In the midst of it, he says, stay engaged, keep positive and find opportunities to help others, which will make living with the disease less of a burden.

Yes, Lipscomb is a grateful man.

"It's all been a gift," he says of his life. "And it's still somewhat full, just not full of what it used to be."

Reporter Michelle Bearden can be reached at mbearden@tampatrib.com or (813) 259-7613.

Q AND A WITH DABNEY SMITH

He loves the Allman Brothers and Alison Krauss. In the late 1970s, he played guitar and keyboards for Uncle Bunk's Band and the Flail Brothers.

And when he starts his new job as bishop coadjutor for the Episcopal Diocese of Southwest Florida, it will be like coming home for the Rev. Dabney Smith, a graduate of the University of South Florida.

Smith, 53, has three grown children with his wife, Mary Ellen. The former rector of Trinity Church in New Orleans spoke recently about hurricanes, his new job and the name Dabney.

Tell us a little about where you came from.

I grew up in Ormond Beach. It was a one-streetlight town back then, where we would hear gators barking and be warned about the bobcats in the woods. Then NASA and Disney happened.

Your dad served as rector at St. John's Episcopal Church in Tampa, and you went to USF. It must have been exciting to get the call that you were elected bishop coadjutor for this diocese.

It's absolutely stunning and wonderful. I'm so pleased to be back in my home state because I have stomping grounds on both the east coast and west coast of Florida. I've got lots of family and friends here, so it's a natural and comfortable fit.

How did you go from a communications major at USF to the priesthood?

I had graduated and was working at Halifax Medical Center in Daytona Beach, doing video work, medical photography and making training tapes. ... Then I had an accident hauling all that heavy equipment and ended up in the hospital where I worked.

I had to take what I would now call a spiritual retreat, but really it was just quiet time. I reviewed my life and realized I had been avoiding God's call all along and needed to pay attention.

Your previous assignment was serving a church in New Orleans in the Garden District. What was your experience with Hurricane Katrina?

I was there slightly over two years. The first eight months felt like eight months. And after that, it felt like 10 years. I obviously never had the occasion - and I don't think many people have - of knowing what it's like to lose a congregation overnight. We didn't get flooded, but we suffered a million and a half dollars in wind damage, and we couldn't go back for six weeks.

It must have seemed overwhelming at times.

It was. I had people in the congregation who were lightly touched by the event, and I had people who lost family members on rooftops. When we were able to come back, it was under martial law. It was really strange to see these 19-year-olds, fully armored with weapons, patrolling the neighborhood in this idyllic Garden District. But we were grateful they were there.

Did any good come out of this?

One of the empowering things about being a priest in that environment is working on new relationships with governmental and nonprofit agencies and putting together a strong coalition. The city has plenty of challenges, from housing availability and affordability to crime and education.

I'm an optimistic person. I still think New Orleans is going to recover. Only it's not going to be the New Orleans that it was, and in one sense, that's a good thing.

You've bought a house in Ellenton, and you're getting settled in. What's first on your agenda when you start full time on March 12?

My starting point is it takes healthy congregations to make a healthy diocese. So I really do need to get to know the people and find my way around.

We cover quite a stretch, so I have a feeling I'll become very acquainted with I-275. One of the things I have been equipped with from the whole New Orleans experience is a greater understanding of the significant difference a local congregation can make in its community. That's something I want to emphasize here.

You've mentioned you don't like labels. But people here will want to know where you stand on the issues that are dividing the church.

I think you can be conservative in one area and liberal in another. It's hard to box people in. Having said that, my votes within the church conventions have been consistently conservative regarding human sexuality. But I know we're dealing with people's lives here. I don't look at this as something to take in a trite manner.

One of the real gifts of Anglicism is that we do think it's important to listen deeply to one another and that questions are good. It doesn't mean that it's always going to be neat and tidy. It's going to be messy at times, and messiness makes people uncomfortable.

Overseas, some Anglicans aren't looking favorably at what's happening with the Episcopal Church in America, to the point where schism seems possible.

For the first time in history, we have instantaneous communications globally. Cultures look at issues differently; they make decisions differently.

Take for example the fact I was elected by both laypeople and clergy. That doesn't happen worldwide. My sense is that we need to move slowly and be very patient with each other globally while we try and take care of each other pastorally and sensitively on the local level.

I don't have all the answers. What I am committed to is us being together and staying together. What I understand from reading the Bible is that this is God's family, not mine.

Tell us about that piece of paper you found years ago and how it guides your life.

I was in my first year of seminary, doing janitorial work at this little church in Watertown, Wis., in exchange for free rent. One night while sweeping up, I found a little piece of paper jammed in the door of the church, and to this day, I still keep it in my desk. In a child's handwriting, it said: "Dear God, help me do the work I do not know how to do." Clearly it was written by a little kid getting ready to take a test.

But I thought that was a really good prayer because none of us knows what tomorrow will bring. It's helped me out a lot over the years.

The only Dabney I ever heard of is the actor, Dabney Coleman. Where did your name come from?

A great uncle from Virginia. It's rooted in colonial days. Thomas Jefferson's best friend was named Dabney Carr. In fact, Virginia's the only place I can go where they don't look up when I say my name. Dabneys are everywhere up there.

Surely you've had nicknames over the years.

Dozens. And I didn't like any of them. The worst was ''A Little Dab'll Do Ya.'' It's funny how I've never forgotten that one.

MALARIA

DESCRIPTION: Malaria is a mosquito-borne disease caused by a parasite. It can cause death.

Symptoms: Range from mild to severe.

GENERAL SYMPTOMS: Fever, chills, headache, muscle aches, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, anemia and jaundice

SEVERE SYMPTOMS: Mental confusion, seizures, coma, severe anemia, kidney failure and pulmonary edema (fluid buildup in the lungs)

TREATMENT: Drugs

Additional Facts

It is usually found in tropical and subtropical regions such as parts of Africa, Asia, the Middle East, and Central and South America.

41 percent of the world's population live in regions where malaria is transmitted.

300 million to 500 million cases are reported each year.

It kills at least 1 million people a year.

The disease was effectively eradicated from the United States in the 1950s, but cases are still reported.

Most cases reported in the United States were acquired elsewhere.

PARKINSON'S

DESCRIPTION: Parkinson's occurs when nerve cells in part of the brain become impaired or die. The loss of dopamine, which transmits messages from one nerve cell to another, disrupts communication among nerves, causing patients to have difficulty controlling their movements.

PRIMARY SYMPTOMS: Trembling, rigidity, slow movement and impaired balance

TREATMENT: There is no cure, but the symptoms can be managed with medicine. A procedure called deep brain stimulation is sometimes used. It involves implanting a neurostimulator, similar to a pacemaker, which delivers electrical impulses to the brain. Other surgeries are sometimes used when the disease does not respond to drugs.

Additional Facts

The disease is chronic and progressive, with symptoms worsening over time.

It was named after English doctor James Parkinson, who first described the condition in 1817.

Sources: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, World Book Encyclopedia (2005 edition), National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke, The National Parkinson Foundation, The Michael J. Fox Foundation; Research by Melanie Coon.