I watched "The Breakfast Club" for the first time recently. I was not quite sure if I liked it or not until I finished it and sat on it for a while, and then decided that i did.
I thought it would make a great group question to ask, "which character would have you been in high school? The basketcase, jock, dweeb, beauty queen or criminal? I immediately jumped for the basketcase. But when i got honest with myself I realized i was closer to the dweeb. Thinking upon it further I realized that the jock wasn't far off the mark either. Even the beauty queen and criminal had elements that i related to. I realized that that was the point of the movie. As it says at the end,
"we realized that we were not really that different. Inside of each one of us there was a Basketcase, a Dweeb, a Jock, a Beauty Queen, and a Criminal."
I don't mind telling you that a month ago I was in a pit of depression and doubting my faith. I felt like the bible and Christian faith were not adding up. God seemed distant and I realized just how invisible He was.
Funny thing about faith; you can't really prove it any more than you can disprove it. If you're getting caught on this statement you are thinking too hard. Forget I said it if it helps. I'm saying that it is not usually logic that makes people accept their faith, and I do not think it is usually logic that makes people walk away either.
When everything felt at the brink of breaking for me it was missing one final ingredient and it was not reason. It was relationship. Like it was probably a relationship that brought you to faith, it was the need for a broken relationship I felt i needed to walk away. God did not need to betray me. The church would do. If a solid christian in my life misunderstood me right now then I would have all the justification I would need to walk away from the faith.
This wasn't going to happen. Despite doubt, disillusionment and depression, I didn't have despair yet. I certainly did not have a church who would betray me. I knew them too well. They are wonderful people, the Christians who support me. The thing that makes them wonderful is not their lofty unshakable convictions either. Nope. Its their honesty, venerability. It makes them approachable. If I tell them that I'm drowning, they won't cut me loose. They will put on a life jacket and jump in with me, letting me hold onto them until i stop hyperventilating. They are not too "holy" to touch me and they are not too high up to reach.
Looking back on this situation, though my clothes are still wet from it, I realize a good thing that came from it. I believe I've grown in mercy and compassion.
As a teenager I led a youth Bible study/discussion group. Because of the informal nature of the meeting, it often attracted the kind of people who had trouble breathing inside a church.
Although I was not a perfect leader, I like to think (and hope) that I got one thing right. I remained approachable and venerable. I was a kid, I did not know all the answers and i did not pretend to. If friends lived their lives in contradiction to my moral set or did not agree with my beliefs, I like to think that i focused on who they were rather than drawing a line between the two of us based on contrasting moral convictions.
I'm glad I didn't make you-me distinctions, especially in hindsight. This difficult time I've gone through has made me grow in empathy, sympathy, compassion, understanding and admiration for the likes of doubters, depressives, intellectuals, artists, spiritual seekers, self-proclaimed agnostics, people of other faiths, addicts and users.
Because I think I was open, and accepting of who people were, I can still look these friends in the eye if i cross them on the street or in a coffee shop to this day. Neither of us drew lines or closed a door. They seem to respect the way I live my life and my faith, maybe partially because I respected who they were. Therefore, the conversation is ongoing.
I remember the scene in John 8 (which I recognize is a contested part of John, but I'm going to pass by that right now. Its not enough to make me write it off.) In the scene Jesus confronts the scene of a woman caught in adultery. Jesus says to the scribes and Pharisees, "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her." (ESV)
Then, one by one, they leave until it is only Jesus and the woman left. Jesus, who Christians hold to have been the only man without sin, is therefore the only one justified to throw a stone. But He says, "Neither do I condemn you".
You better believe that it was mercy and not condemnation or a high moral code that made her "go, and from now on sin no more."
What is it that those outside the Christian faith see, our convictions or our mercy?
It seems that the people who Jesus had the least tolerance for were the Pharisees. the Pharisees were the ones with a high moral order. In fact, their disciplines were so high that they might be historically argued to have preserved the Judaistic faith, traditions and scriptures.
However, it is the pharisees who Jesus accuses- the ones who were technically the most sinless.
I love that we see Jesus act mercifully toward a Pharisee when he comes to Jesus to check his notes. It is in John 3, which is careful to point out that the Pharisee comes to Jesus "by night".
By Night. I bet you that this Pharisee's "gospel truth" was shaking, and that he was scared. He wasn't sure enough about this Jesus to let people see him going to talk to him maybe. But under the cover of darkness, he could disclose openly his questions. I like that Jesus meets him at this level. He doesn't come down on him for acting stealthily. Instead he goes ahead and explains and answers questions- even if they sometimes only seem to lead to more questions.
I understand why Christians speak above their level of knowledge and grasp for pat answers and rock solid doctrine. I understand. Coming face to face with hard questions and leaving them unanswered at the end of the day is scary and uncomfortable.
Fear is a dangerous motivator though. I read recently that the most repeated command in the Bible is to not be afraid. Do not worry, do not be anxious, do not be afraid, do not be terrified; the Bible is full of such sentiment.
Imagine if the members of "The Breakfast Club" held onto their fear and never opened up to each other. They would never have become venerable, shared, and in the end, liberated. There is something about truth that sets us free. But something about fear that binds us.
I'm not sure what would have happened if we threw a "born and raised Christian" into the mix with the Breakfast Club.
I imagine that He'd be the most afraid of opening up. Especially about his faith, because he wouldn't be able to stand under the fire of questions that would be inevitably thrown at him. He's only a teen. His own confidence might slip! Would he be open about the f***ed up part of his own life? Or would he be afraid that he would "betray his wittiness" by looking as if he were living beneath his own moral standards or faith ideal? If anyone else opens up about their garbage, however, he can't help but think, "sinner". He can't help thinking this because its how he runs his own life. He is a sinner when he sins and better than everyone else when he doesn't. This is how he justifies himself.
Everyone would despise him. Not because he is being the least like Christ, but because he's a closed door. If his disposition doesn't reek of judgement, than it certainly is drawing a line between him and everyone else. "If he's so much better than everyone else then he probably doesn't want to touch us lepers" the criminal would say. So in the end they would put him in the closet and lock the door. Everyone would be glad.
But what if he is better than everyone else! Let his convictions speak!
No. Let mercy speak.
Let compassion speak. Let truth speak. Let the Holy spirit have a clear, unbound, and fearless vessel through which to set free and speak life.
In Luke 6 Jesus says that,
"the Most High... is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful"
And he continues,
"Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you." (ESV)
One of our moral convictions as Christians is mercy itself.
In John 4 Jesus meets a Samaritan woman with a confused belief system and a messed up life. Jesus points out her moral shortcomings, but it is not as to condemn her. He had already passed the social barrier of speaking to a woman, and the social barrier of friendliness to a Samaritan. It was as if he was pointing out that he was willing to jump over the barrier of her sin as well. He shows her mercy.
Fear not only keeps us from our own healing and letting the Holy Spirit use us, but it draws lines between us and others when it means we are not willing to cross the barriers to get to who someone is (and show them Christ's mercy.)
This is exactly what the Pharisees were not doing (exactly what we as "Church-going Christians" have a danger of not doing). Maybe, like the Pharisees, we are afraid of breaking a rule, getting our hands dirty, touching the leper. Afraid. I understand. We need to remember that mercy should be front line in our arsenal of convictions. Remembering also that we have been shown great great mercy. Remembering where we came from. If we aren't motivated by this, then maybe we have to check ourselves. Have we received healing mercy in our own lives? Is our lives about how good we are or about how good God is to us? If we let God's mercy reign, we are justified. Free to be fearless in The Breakfast Club.
Because honestly,in me there is a basketcase, a jock, a dweeb, a beauty queen, a criminal.... and Jesus.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
Parola
Jun 12
This squatter community is near Divisoria. Like Nevotas it is also situated on the water, but more of the houses that I see, in this case, are situated above the shore line. Consequently I found myself sitting on a narrow walkway, trying awkwardly not to get in the way of the residents going by, watching Noli talking to one of the moms that the ministry works with, and looking out at the water.
The beach does not have shells or sand or rocks as its bed. It has garbage. Literally, the ground is composed of garbage, much of which is also to be seen floating out in the ocean. This doesn't stop children from playing on it or swimming, however. No matter how strong their immunity systems must be from living this long in this kind of environment, there is nothing I can think of that justifies swimming in that.
A woman walks up to me and speaks in english that betrays a likely education (suggesting that perhaps she is too, just a visitor)
"What do you think of this place." The question was surely trying to illicit a response to the immediate seen in the slum, and as there was no right answer to it, I play the aloof visitor and speak generally instead.
"Hot!" I say, (which it was) "mainit!" I add, proud that I know the Tagalog word.
Bullet dodged.
"Many children," she comments, gesturing to the kids playing on the beach. "This place is good at producing children!"
It is said with an air of humor, but I could see the underlying statement.
Family management and planning are hot topics in the Philippines. They are the answers, some would say, to, "why do the children swim in waste?" or "why do families have so many children when they can not afford it"
"Overpopulation" is also an inevitable buzz word. I picked up a book recently which seemed to suggest that it was one of, if not the Philippine's primary problem.
I would be slow to call human life a problem, but there is no doubting that there is a correlation with the amount of people and economic disparity etc. The book looked like it was going to start railing against the catholic church's war on contraceptives. This, is another hot topic.
Just yesterday I saw on the news, a catholic protest against sex education. I guess the idea is the one of schools sex ed classes only causing more sexual curiosity and therefore activity and the promotion of condoms and the idea of "safe sex" at the same time.
On Valentines day an authority handed out condoms to a boatload of people. The result was an uproar. As you can imagine, the government saying that it wasn't their idea, a few liberals saying that it should have been their idea and the Catholics in a state. The action of the individual who pulled the stunt would be called by most, "irresponsible" but by a few, also "shrewd." For it threw the country into an debate forum. A conversation in which also STDs can hardly be avoided as subject manner. Timely since the Philippines has just recently come out with the numbers that show AIDS is no longer "Low and Slow" anymore, but a very serious and immediate problem.
The people at Parola were friendly and once asked Noli if I was alright.
"Oh because I wasn't smiling and looked all serious right?" I said to Noli afterward.
"Yes" he chuckles.
"Darn, that's long been a problem with me. I'm not unhappy or anything. That is just the way I look when I'm thinking."
This squatter community is near Divisoria. Like Nevotas it is also situated on the water, but more of the houses that I see, in this case, are situated above the shore line. Consequently I found myself sitting on a narrow walkway, trying awkwardly not to get in the way of the residents going by, watching Noli talking to one of the moms that the ministry works with, and looking out at the water.
The beach does not have shells or sand or rocks as its bed. It has garbage. Literally, the ground is composed of garbage, much of which is also to be seen floating out in the ocean. This doesn't stop children from playing on it or swimming, however. No matter how strong their immunity systems must be from living this long in this kind of environment, there is nothing I can think of that justifies swimming in that.
A woman walks up to me and speaks in english that betrays a likely education (suggesting that perhaps she is too, just a visitor)
"What do you think of this place." The question was surely trying to illicit a response to the immediate seen in the slum, and as there was no right answer to it, I play the aloof visitor and speak generally instead.
"Hot!" I say, (which it was) "mainit!" I add, proud that I know the Tagalog word.
Bullet dodged.
"Many children," she comments, gesturing to the kids playing on the beach. "This place is good at producing children!"
It is said with an air of humor, but I could see the underlying statement.
Family management and planning are hot topics in the Philippines. They are the answers, some would say, to, "why do the children swim in waste?" or "why do families have so many children when they can not afford it"
"Overpopulation" is also an inevitable buzz word. I picked up a book recently which seemed to suggest that it was one of, if not the Philippine's primary problem.
I would be slow to call human life a problem, but there is no doubting that there is a correlation with the amount of people and economic disparity etc. The book looked like it was going to start railing against the catholic church's war on contraceptives. This, is another hot topic.
Just yesterday I saw on the news, a catholic protest against sex education. I guess the idea is the one of schools sex ed classes only causing more sexual curiosity and therefore activity and the promotion of condoms and the idea of "safe sex" at the same time.
On Valentines day an authority handed out condoms to a boatload of people. The result was an uproar. As you can imagine, the government saying that it wasn't their idea, a few liberals saying that it should have been their idea and the Catholics in a state. The action of the individual who pulled the stunt would be called by most, "irresponsible" but by a few, also "shrewd." For it threw the country into an debate forum. A conversation in which also STDs can hardly be avoided as subject manner. Timely since the Philippines has just recently come out with the numbers that show AIDS is no longer "Low and Slow" anymore, but a very serious and immediate problem.
The people at Parola were friendly and once asked Noli if I was alright.
"Oh because I wasn't smiling and looked all serious right?" I said to Noli afterward.
"Yes" he chuckles.
"Darn, that's long been a problem with me. I'm not unhappy or anything. That is just the way I look when I'm thinking."
Sunday, March 07, 2010
polotiks. o ya.
There's an election coming up in the Philippines, so at the church I've been hanging out at on Sundays, they've been talking about how to be involved in politics from a Biblical standpoint. Last week they used Romans 13: 1-5 as a teaching platform. The first part of which says the following:
"Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God. Consequently, he who rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves." Romans 13:1-2 (NIV)
The idea that struck home for me was that we Biblicaly have a civil responsibility, and it makes sense. The speaker said that they all wanted foreign investment in the Philippines to boost the economy, but that if the Japanese (who shows up 15 minutes early for everything) books a meeting about it with a Filipino (who is often late), the Japanese investor will walk away and a deal will never go down. Point? The civilians need to do their part. If they want the traffic situation to improve, then they need to obey traffic laws. If they want the Police to be honest, then they need to dispute an unfair ticket. If they want less kids out defaming property, then parents need to take more responsibility of those kids. etc.
A society doesn't rest on a government alone. The government has "ministries" to "serve" the public so that it can work alongside the establishments of family and jobs and church to uphold an unbroken system. Makes sense right?
Means that I should think twice about running the light that they apparently put in just down the road from my place in Canada where the Four way was.
The success of a society requires unity on part of the civilians; an agreement to work together to making their society a better one. Unity.
I was thinking about this and about the social barriers that this means crossing in many societies. In Canada not the least.
In Canada, we are especially known for blaming the government instead of getting behind it. And that with a... fifty-something percent turn out to vote?
"Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God. Consequently, he who rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves." Romans 13:1-2 (NIV)
The idea that struck home for me was that we Biblicaly have a civil responsibility, and it makes sense. The speaker said that they all wanted foreign investment in the Philippines to boost the economy, but that if the Japanese (who shows up 15 minutes early for everything) books a meeting about it with a Filipino (who is often late), the Japanese investor will walk away and a deal will never go down. Point? The civilians need to do their part. If they want the traffic situation to improve, then they need to obey traffic laws. If they want the Police to be honest, then they need to dispute an unfair ticket. If they want less kids out defaming property, then parents need to take more responsibility of those kids. etc.
A society doesn't rest on a government alone. The government has "ministries" to "serve" the public so that it can work alongside the establishments of family and jobs and church to uphold an unbroken system. Makes sense right?
Means that I should think twice about running the light that they apparently put in just down the road from my place in Canada where the Four way was.
The success of a society requires unity on part of the civilians; an agreement to work together to making their society a better one. Unity.
I was thinking about this and about the social barriers that this means crossing in many societies. In Canada not the least.
In Canada, we are especially known for blaming the government instead of getting behind it. And that with a... fifty-something percent turn out to vote?
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Grace
I have often thought of the innability to accept grace, love, acceptance etc. as being a different problem from that of selfishness. However, I was reading a bit of a book by Philip Yancey (one of my favorite writers, pick up one of his books and tell me what you think) called "What's so Amazing About Grace?" and from many quotable phrases, i pulled the following one out for you:
"We live in an atmosphere choked with the fumes of ungrace. Grace comes from outside, as a gift and not an achievement. How easily it vanishes from our dog-eat-dog, survival-of-the-fittest, look-out-for-number-one world."
Consider this. I have been prone to self-serving-ness in this "dog-eat-dog" world. Why? Because i want to do it without God? Because of Pride? Because I think I am the only means to my ideal life? Perhaps also because at the heart i don't want to trust and I can't bear to lean. Truly, I'm afraid. I struggle with accepting his hand, his love, his grace. If I could accept, then maybe this striving would cease to matter. Everything I have could be swallowed with the liberated appetite that accompanies a free meal. Guilt free. Grace.
"We live in an atmosphere choked with the fumes of ungrace. Grace comes from outside, as a gift and not an achievement. How easily it vanishes from our dog-eat-dog, survival-of-the-fittest, look-out-for-number-one world."
Consider this. I have been prone to self-serving-ness in this "dog-eat-dog" world. Why? Because i want to do it without God? Because of Pride? Because I think I am the only means to my ideal life? Perhaps also because at the heart i don't want to trust and I can't bear to lean. Truly, I'm afraid. I struggle with accepting his hand, his love, his grace. If I could accept, then maybe this striving would cease to matter. Everything I have could be swallowed with the liberated appetite that accompanies a free meal. Guilt free. Grace.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Hati
Tonight I was hanging out with some friends who wanted to watch a movie. Angie said that we should watch 7 Pounds because I needed a good cry and probably hadn't had one in a while. I, perhaps taking the comment beyond its humorous intent, retorted that I had watched 7 Pounds and it hadn't made me cry the first time. And that, in addition, I had already had something of a cry earlier that very day. First of all I was told I had to have had a heart of stone to have watched such an emotional movie and not be moved to tears. Secondly, I was questioned as to what would, then, have brought me to the edge that very day. I didn't answer, but I'll try now:
It seems like cynics are easy to foster in our culture. I'm a good example. We become cynical of our governments, cynical of things we don't understand, and cynical of ourselves because we know that our society is the most successful failure we've ever seen.
Recently Canada was accused of covering up a placement of Afghan detainees that knowingly resulted in their torture. All I seemed to hear about it from Ottawa is whose job should be lost as a result and who gets to fill it once they're gone. Nothing about morals. Little about making things right. Never an apology (that i heard). "What has happened to our humanity?" one might be heard to ask. "At what point is this not a game anymore?" See, it's easy to be a cynic.
Over the past decade, those US officials responsible for pushing the war in the middle east have been accused of doing it for the oil rather than for domestic reasons. Amid conspiracy theory a population grows apathetic and stone heartened to the "propaganda" that floods their televisions. Perhaps we all are cynics.
Perhaps my heart has been cold as anyones.
but this is what happened:
I drove to victoria and back for something- i don't remember what. On the way there i saw the sign emploring everyone to donate to Hati relief. I think the dj on the local rock station was talking about it too. Everybody, it seemed, was talking about it- and trying to do something about it. Even one of my employers young daughters had just told me a day or few earlier that she was doing a bake sale.
I decided to listen to CBC 2 on the way home. The entire day on air was dedicated to Hati. There was related music and massive fundraising. It seemed like this was not simply a marketing push, the sound of its voice didn't allow for me to believe in less than genuine compassion. I was touched by the programming, but what really pushed me to the edge was, as i was still listening, i passed under an overpass on which a handful of people were waving signs to give to hati and how to do it. As I drove underneath I knew i wouldn't, for my current situation, go donate right then, but i gave the a thumbs up as i drove underneath. A communication that connected. I knew what they were doing, how important it was, and they knew that i knew and that i was right there with them in spirit. I felt a connection. I felt a belief in humanity, and among the reality that hung over this disaster I begin to cry for the gain that hati seemed to have made in our humanity. As if, even as we were helping her, that she was saving us.
Maybe if Victoria could unite, if Canada could unite. Maybe if all these nations were pouring in millions upon millions to a country that probably did nothing for them, then there was hope. Maybe there's still hope for us as people; as humans.
It seems like cynics are easy to foster in our culture. I'm a good example. We become cynical of our governments, cynical of things we don't understand, and cynical of ourselves because we know that our society is the most successful failure we've ever seen.
Recently Canada was accused of covering up a placement of Afghan detainees that knowingly resulted in their torture. All I seemed to hear about it from Ottawa is whose job should be lost as a result and who gets to fill it once they're gone. Nothing about morals. Little about making things right. Never an apology (that i heard). "What has happened to our humanity?" one might be heard to ask. "At what point is this not a game anymore?" See, it's easy to be a cynic.
Over the past decade, those US officials responsible for pushing the war in the middle east have been accused of doing it for the oil rather than for domestic reasons. Amid conspiracy theory a population grows apathetic and stone heartened to the "propaganda" that floods their televisions. Perhaps we all are cynics.
Perhaps my heart has been cold as anyones.
but this is what happened:
I drove to victoria and back for something- i don't remember what. On the way there i saw the sign emploring everyone to donate to Hati relief. I think the dj on the local rock station was talking about it too. Everybody, it seemed, was talking about it- and trying to do something about it. Even one of my employers young daughters had just told me a day or few earlier that she was doing a bake sale.
I decided to listen to CBC 2 on the way home. The entire day on air was dedicated to Hati. There was related music and massive fundraising. It seemed like this was not simply a marketing push, the sound of its voice didn't allow for me to believe in less than genuine compassion. I was touched by the programming, but what really pushed me to the edge was, as i was still listening, i passed under an overpass on which a handful of people were waving signs to give to hati and how to do it. As I drove underneath I knew i wouldn't, for my current situation, go donate right then, but i gave the a thumbs up as i drove underneath. A communication that connected. I knew what they were doing, how important it was, and they knew that i knew and that i was right there with them in spirit. I felt a connection. I felt a belief in humanity, and among the reality that hung over this disaster I begin to cry for the gain that hati seemed to have made in our humanity. As if, even as we were helping her, that she was saving us.
Maybe if Victoria could unite, if Canada could unite. Maybe if all these nations were pouring in millions upon millions to a country that probably did nothing for them, then there was hope. Maybe there's still hope for us as people; as humans.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Church
I had a beautiful run in with church recently.
The service that I had normally been attending (and loving), The service that might be responsible in part for making me love church (in its institution?) again, was coming to an end. The service took place on saturday nights and was not a thing apart from the congregation that met in the same building on Sunday mornings. The saturday night service had been something of an experiment in expansion and a trial of creativity. It was not a separate church from Sunday morning if you take my meaning. It was, however, a different format that i found myself very engaged in. The sunday morning formats were different, and I hadn't been regularly attending them, for various reasons, for 2 years. I had actually been frustrated with it all about 2 years earlier, and felt at the time that I needed to take a break- not from resentment perhaps as much as from a sense of needing something fresh which i could give and take more to and from. Now, with the saturday night services ending, which i had started attending consistently about a year earlier, I knew my next move.
I had showed up on the occasional Sunday morning here and there, but things were entitled to have changed. Would people even remember who I was? I wanted to make sure they did.
The Saturday night before I would be making a comeback to the sunday morning service, I was driving home with a friend from Victoria. She was going to be staying at my family's place overnight and i was going to drop her off at her church service in the morning before going to mine.
"Won't you be late for your service then?" she asked.
"I don't mind being late actually." I countered. "actually, to tell you the truth, i've shown up late on purpose lots of time to church. No-one seems to mind if I do, and it sometimes just makes it much easier."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I don't know. I guess i just get closterphobic when i'm sitting in a room full of people for more than an hour. I start getting fidgety and scetching out. Especially if the Pastor decides to speak overtime, as he often does.
"Oh"
"Plus, i guess there's also the fact that sometimes the music just drives me crazy at the beginning. I mean, it depends and it sounds terribly rediculous or selfish i'm sure, but i can't get around it driving me crazy sometimes."
"Oh i see" she says, "So if you're only here for a few weeks more before you leave" (this is a few weeks before my departure to the Philippines, which is supposed to keep me away for about half a year) "...and if you don't like your church that much... why don't you just go somewhere else?"
The question was fair. But my own indignancy suprised me.
"Go somewhere else?! What?! I don't think you understand me at all! This is my church. This has been my church since i was 15! I cant just walk out on that! No, i might not like the pastors speaking sometimes and sometimes i even disagree with points, and i might not like the country ballad versions of songs that proceed it- but the pastor and the music leader are my church. They are guys that love me! I leave in a few weeks and i need to be at church to remind them (for those that haven't been attending saturday night services) that I'm still around, I'm still one of their family and that I need them now as much or more than ever!"
As an aside, this conversation is a paraphrase, and i should apologize to my friend because its probably an unfair depiction of a conversation that this friend really helped me process with... and i hope it didn't seem like i was yelling at you. Anyways, thanks for listening.
Next day at church was amazing. I felt so at home. I felt so supported. Two or three old ladies whose names i can't even place came up to me and told me how nice it was to see me back around again. It was a great time with a great family with definite quirks (but we're all human?), and i think it might have marked a healing step in coming back to church. I wasn't alienated or resentful, and i was a part of that church (just in a different setting with different people) but I might have been a little lost. A conversation solidified in me what was important. The important part as i see it now is the fact that the people who make up My Church are the people who have been there the whole time; loving people, as faithful as the ocean when you return to it for peace.
post concieved Jan 10. written mar 1
The service that I had normally been attending (and loving), The service that might be responsible in part for making me love church (in its institution?) again, was coming to an end. The service took place on saturday nights and was not a thing apart from the congregation that met in the same building on Sunday mornings. The saturday night service had been something of an experiment in expansion and a trial of creativity. It was not a separate church from Sunday morning if you take my meaning. It was, however, a different format that i found myself very engaged in. The sunday morning formats were different, and I hadn't been regularly attending them, for various reasons, for 2 years. I had actually been frustrated with it all about 2 years earlier, and felt at the time that I needed to take a break- not from resentment perhaps as much as from a sense of needing something fresh which i could give and take more to and from. Now, with the saturday night services ending, which i had started attending consistently about a year earlier, I knew my next move.
I had showed up on the occasional Sunday morning here and there, but things were entitled to have changed. Would people even remember who I was? I wanted to make sure they did.
The Saturday night before I would be making a comeback to the sunday morning service, I was driving home with a friend from Victoria. She was going to be staying at my family's place overnight and i was going to drop her off at her church service in the morning before going to mine.
"Won't you be late for your service then?" she asked.
"I don't mind being late actually." I countered. "actually, to tell you the truth, i've shown up late on purpose lots of time to church. No-one seems to mind if I do, and it sometimes just makes it much easier."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I don't know. I guess i just get closterphobic when i'm sitting in a room full of people for more than an hour. I start getting fidgety and scetching out. Especially if the Pastor decides to speak overtime, as he often does.
"Oh"
"Plus, i guess there's also the fact that sometimes the music just drives me crazy at the beginning. I mean, it depends and it sounds terribly rediculous or selfish i'm sure, but i can't get around it driving me crazy sometimes."
"Oh i see" she says, "So if you're only here for a few weeks more before you leave" (this is a few weeks before my departure to the Philippines, which is supposed to keep me away for about half a year) "...and if you don't like your church that much... why don't you just go somewhere else?"
The question was fair. But my own indignancy suprised me.
"Go somewhere else?! What?! I don't think you understand me at all! This is my church. This has been my church since i was 15! I cant just walk out on that! No, i might not like the pastors speaking sometimes and sometimes i even disagree with points, and i might not like the country ballad versions of songs that proceed it- but the pastor and the music leader are my church. They are guys that love me! I leave in a few weeks and i need to be at church to remind them (for those that haven't been attending saturday night services) that I'm still around, I'm still one of their family and that I need them now as much or more than ever!"
As an aside, this conversation is a paraphrase, and i should apologize to my friend because its probably an unfair depiction of a conversation that this friend really helped me process with... and i hope it didn't seem like i was yelling at you. Anyways, thanks for listening.
Next day at church was amazing. I felt so at home. I felt so supported. Two or three old ladies whose names i can't even place came up to me and told me how nice it was to see me back around again. It was a great time with a great family with definite quirks (but we're all human?), and i think it might have marked a healing step in coming back to church. I wasn't alienated or resentful, and i was a part of that church (just in a different setting with different people) but I might have been a little lost. A conversation solidified in me what was important. The important part as i see it now is the fact that the people who make up My Church are the people who have been there the whole time; loving people, as faithful as the ocean when you return to it for peace.
post concieved Jan 10. written mar 1
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Alice Vs. Captain Hardy
Sunday
Mike wants to know if I'm still willing and wanting to go to Port Hardy to Visit Ried
"lets shoot for four o clock tomorrow."
It is decided.
Monday
"Want Coffee?"
"Yea, that'd be sweet"
"Snacks"
"For sure"
Werther Originals and Twizzlers accompany bad tasting gas station coffee as we pull out from filling up in mill bay. Five hours to go.
We are warned of Elk before we get to Cambell river. We discuss the immensity of Moose and I imagine how awful it would be to hit one- and how much the moose would notice if you did.
We call Reid when we get cell service. This is about 10 km out of Port Hardy. Mike has neglected to tell him that we were coming so he sounds confused when we tell him that we're just outside of town. Ried has the ability to shake his head with his voice. He's a cop. But he lived by practical street sence long before that. He wouldn't be one to drop in unanounced to a friend who may be working one of any uninteruptible shifts at the time when he expected homage. Fortunately we expected nonesuch, and fortunately Ried knows us. He'll shake his head with his voice and be glad to see us at the same time.
"we just figured we'd light a garbage can on fire or something if you were working."
"Yea that'd be great" Ried returns unconvincingly.
Conveniently, Ried has the next couple days off.
"So what do you want to do?" Ried offers, "We could go see Sharon."
Fortunately Sharon does not live far away. We hop into Ried's car and drive to her place. Partially thanking the fact that Port Hardy is a large abandoned parking lot, we can still see my Toyota from her place. She greets us with the kind of enthusiasm reserved for kids on the last day of school, turned up a few notches.
We decide to Visit Caleb. He lives in Port Alice. Port Alice is a stones throw by thrown stone and 40 minutes of windy narrow road by car. Caleb doesn't expect us either.
We sit at his place and chat untill its considered late enough to trek back to Hardy. When i hit the floor I stay there until late the next morning.
Tuesday
Breakfast, shooting range, Salmon burger, Hockey Juniors for the gold, Canada Juniors take silver, Pie, Game Cube, twenty minutes of M*A*S*H*, Loosing to sleep, Lost.
Wednesday
Nobody serves breakfast after eleven. However, there are cinnamon buns left at the diner, and they are big ones.
Ried wishes me well, I said goodbye to Caleb and Sharon last night. More gas, more coffee, more junk food. We make the trip in five and a half hours. Its beautiful how much ground you can cover when you don't have to take a ferry. Its a beautiful drive.
Mike is home and I am home; tired but unready for sleep. I take my time and begin to plan my next trip. A target from a tactical set at the firing range reminds me of this one.
It was good. It was very good.
Mike wants to know if I'm still willing and wanting to go to Port Hardy to Visit Ried
"lets shoot for four o clock tomorrow."
It is decided.
Monday
"Want Coffee?"
"Yea, that'd be sweet"
"Snacks"
"For sure"
Werther Originals and Twizzlers accompany bad tasting gas station coffee as we pull out from filling up in mill bay. Five hours to go.
We are warned of Elk before we get to Cambell river. We discuss the immensity of Moose and I imagine how awful it would be to hit one- and how much the moose would notice if you did.
We call Reid when we get cell service. This is about 10 km out of Port Hardy. Mike has neglected to tell him that we were coming so he sounds confused when we tell him that we're just outside of town. Ried has the ability to shake his head with his voice. He's a cop. But he lived by practical street sence long before that. He wouldn't be one to drop in unanounced to a friend who may be working one of any uninteruptible shifts at the time when he expected homage. Fortunately we expected nonesuch, and fortunately Ried knows us. He'll shake his head with his voice and be glad to see us at the same time.
"we just figured we'd light a garbage can on fire or something if you were working."
"Yea that'd be great" Ried returns unconvincingly.
Conveniently, Ried has the next couple days off.
"So what do you want to do?" Ried offers, "We could go see Sharon."
Fortunately Sharon does not live far away. We hop into Ried's car and drive to her place. Partially thanking the fact that Port Hardy is a large abandoned parking lot, we can still see my Toyota from her place. She greets us with the kind of enthusiasm reserved for kids on the last day of school, turned up a few notches.
We decide to Visit Caleb. He lives in Port Alice. Port Alice is a stones throw by thrown stone and 40 minutes of windy narrow road by car. Caleb doesn't expect us either.
We sit at his place and chat untill its considered late enough to trek back to Hardy. When i hit the floor I stay there until late the next morning.
Tuesday
Breakfast, shooting range, Salmon burger, Hockey Juniors for the gold, Canada Juniors take silver, Pie, Game Cube, twenty minutes of M*A*S*H*, Loosing to sleep, Lost.
Wednesday
Nobody serves breakfast after eleven. However, there are cinnamon buns left at the diner, and they are big ones.
Ried wishes me well, I said goodbye to Caleb and Sharon last night. More gas, more coffee, more junk food. We make the trip in five and a half hours. Its beautiful how much ground you can cover when you don't have to take a ferry. Its a beautiful drive.
Mike is home and I am home; tired but unready for sleep. I take my time and begin to plan my next trip. A target from a tactical set at the firing range reminds me of this one.
It was good. It was very good.
Monday, December 28, 2009
December 24-26
Started out waking up and wrapping presents, but not presents of mine. Every year at the mall a group of friends wrap presents on Christmas eve as a fundraiser for the Mustard Seed food bank. Its a great event to be sure.
The time flew by. I had a good time and wrapped presents with a fury.
Afterward we went to visit my Grandpa. When i say we i mean my immediate family save one. He has been moved into one of those homes where they tell you not to let anyone with a walker out the front door. I don't blame them for trying to escape.
My Grandpa was lost behind a sea of alshimers, drugs, and the decaying body and mind that i guess would come naturally with too much time with no change and too much change all at once. I'm convinced some part of him knew what was going on, that his heirs were there to see him at christmas. A warm-souled Jamaican set the musical backdrop to the scene where he was playing christmas carols and hymns fused in a medley of smiles and eye contact to the immobile and mostly unresponsive group of elderly.
My Grandpa shed tears when i left.
Its something that you don't appreciate a life while its there the same way you do when its gone.
I hiked up a mountain and camped overnight on boxing day so it wasn't 'till I got back that I found out he was gone.
Every Christmas seems to etch its own identity on the sketchbook of my memory with a distinct experience or reflection. I didn't really know what was unusual about this Christmas until it happened all at once.
I think this Christmas I saw life as more than a day, more than a moment, more than an objective. I literally only gave 1 and 1/3 presents this year. And happily i didn't get any dvds. instead, a camping sack, a toque, a book. Things that somehow said life was more than 1.5 hours of escape on an evening after work.
A Life of work will be tied off in a 1.5 hour ceremony on saturday that will say only a outline of what it really was. Maybe if were lucky we'll all leave wondering how to live a legacy as well. To leave gifts that really say something.
The time flew by. I had a good time and wrapped presents with a fury.
Afterward we went to visit my Grandpa. When i say we i mean my immediate family save one. He has been moved into one of those homes where they tell you not to let anyone with a walker out the front door. I don't blame them for trying to escape.
My Grandpa was lost behind a sea of alshimers, drugs, and the decaying body and mind that i guess would come naturally with too much time with no change and too much change all at once. I'm convinced some part of him knew what was going on, that his heirs were there to see him at christmas. A warm-souled Jamaican set the musical backdrop to the scene where he was playing christmas carols and hymns fused in a medley of smiles and eye contact to the immobile and mostly unresponsive group of elderly.
My Grandpa shed tears when i left.
Its something that you don't appreciate a life while its there the same way you do when its gone.
I hiked up a mountain and camped overnight on boxing day so it wasn't 'till I got back that I found out he was gone.
Every Christmas seems to etch its own identity on the sketchbook of my memory with a distinct experience or reflection. I didn't really know what was unusual about this Christmas until it happened all at once.
I think this Christmas I saw life as more than a day, more than a moment, more than an objective. I literally only gave 1 and 1/3 presents this year. And happily i didn't get any dvds. instead, a camping sack, a toque, a book. Things that somehow said life was more than 1.5 hours of escape on an evening after work.
A Life of work will be tied off in a 1.5 hour ceremony on saturday that will say only a outline of what it really was. Maybe if were lucky we'll all leave wondering how to live a legacy as well. To leave gifts that really say something.
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Risk Factor
I was thinking about love.
The way i see History in relation to our lives is as a playing field of epic proportions.
I think God has called us to play a role in our own redemptive destiny. He shows us love and lets us dispense it. He lets us become sacrifices to him, playing out the lives he designed us to thrive in.
this is more or less my belief and my view.
I was thinking about love, how it seems to take one more element than sacrifice and action- and i wonder if it has something to do with the tree in the garden of Eden.
If you tell someone that you love them, and I mean with all the depth of a classical wedding vow, how are you not entering a risky zone? (Call me mistrusting if you want. Call me cold and embittered and tell me i have a fear of intimacy if you must but do hear me out.) You may trust them to always love you back like you love them, but what if they don't? What if they change? What if they Leave? What if they die?
Does love take an element of having to gain something to loose?
I have a friend who is about thirty and has traveled all over the world. His way spells experience. His job is jumping out of planes to fight fires and his hobbies are surfing, hiking and kayaking. My kind of guy. He has clearly got nothing to tie him down. He has nothing to lose.
As cool as this is, I can't help but wonder if, with nothing to loose, if he has anything truly great to gain. I wonder if you can make a really really deep impact on someone else's life unless they become something to loose to you. I don't know. I'm hypothisising.
As an aside, maybe what people mean when they say to have the heart of Christ is to realize the love That Christ had for the world and that each one is something of great value to him. I don't think i can love the world on my own. Maybe one or two or ten tops. Maybe we need to remember that it is Christ's love that fills us and to shake off your shoes when you leave?
This last paragraph was off topic meanderings, but i'm sure if there's one place where this kind of "gaining to lose" love is meant to exist- if only to help us understand God- is in marriage and family.
I was reading this book by my friend Don. Well, i guess he isn't really my friend, in that we've never spoke- but his name is Don. He pointed out in his book that the most epic movies involve a character who has to be self sacrificial- probably having his life on the line- to help the many or several significant people whose lives depend on him.
I think I'd like to live an epic movie- so to speak. Does it make a good story having gone to the moon and back if i've never put my life on the line for somebody else? I don't think so.
The Bible says that "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13 (NIV)
This quote brings me back to the macroepic. God is trying to get us back with the accumulation of history Being Jesus and his salvation. His salvation that has been avaliable to all but rejected by so many. That's loss! That's risk! If anyone deserves rejection issues I guess it's Christ- but He knows what He wants. I want that too.
His world crawls with somebody's to lose in this ultimate love epic.
Maybe if i adopt the heart of Christ I can work for him.
Maybe if I mimic Him I will live an epic.
Maybe love takes gaining something to loose.
Maybe love takes the risk factor.
People say they fall in love. I think that I'll have to jump first.
The way i see History in relation to our lives is as a playing field of epic proportions.
I think God has called us to play a role in our own redemptive destiny. He shows us love and lets us dispense it. He lets us become sacrifices to him, playing out the lives he designed us to thrive in.
this is more or less my belief and my view.
I was thinking about love, how it seems to take one more element than sacrifice and action- and i wonder if it has something to do with the tree in the garden of Eden.
If you tell someone that you love them, and I mean with all the depth of a classical wedding vow, how are you not entering a risky zone? (Call me mistrusting if you want. Call me cold and embittered and tell me i have a fear of intimacy if you must but do hear me out.) You may trust them to always love you back like you love them, but what if they don't? What if they change? What if they Leave? What if they die?
Does love take an element of having to gain something to loose?
I have a friend who is about thirty and has traveled all over the world. His way spells experience. His job is jumping out of planes to fight fires and his hobbies are surfing, hiking and kayaking. My kind of guy. He has clearly got nothing to tie him down. He has nothing to lose.
As cool as this is, I can't help but wonder if, with nothing to loose, if he has anything truly great to gain. I wonder if you can make a really really deep impact on someone else's life unless they become something to loose to you. I don't know. I'm hypothisising.
As an aside, maybe what people mean when they say to have the heart of Christ is to realize the love That Christ had for the world and that each one is something of great value to him. I don't think i can love the world on my own. Maybe one or two or ten tops. Maybe we need to remember that it is Christ's love that fills us and to shake off your shoes when you leave?
This last paragraph was off topic meanderings, but i'm sure if there's one place where this kind of "gaining to lose" love is meant to exist- if only to help us understand God- is in marriage and family.
I was reading this book by my friend Don. Well, i guess he isn't really my friend, in that we've never spoke- but his name is Don. He pointed out in his book that the most epic movies involve a character who has to be self sacrificial- probably having his life on the line- to help the many or several significant people whose lives depend on him.
I think I'd like to live an epic movie- so to speak. Does it make a good story having gone to the moon and back if i've never put my life on the line for somebody else? I don't think so.
The Bible says that "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13 (NIV)
This quote brings me back to the macroepic. God is trying to get us back with the accumulation of history Being Jesus and his salvation. His salvation that has been avaliable to all but rejected by so many. That's loss! That's risk! If anyone deserves rejection issues I guess it's Christ- but He knows what He wants. I want that too.
His world crawls with somebody's to lose in this ultimate love epic.
Maybe if i adopt the heart of Christ I can work for him.
Maybe if I mimic Him I will live an epic.
Maybe love takes gaining something to loose.
Maybe love takes the risk factor.
People say they fall in love. I think that I'll have to jump first.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Good Article II
Ok, so what happens is i read any newspaper i can get my hands on at lunch or coffee break and sometimes find good articles. This one should be of interest. I found it so. I'm sure its a step in the right direction. Do you think it can work?
Click to link.
Click to link.
Good Article
This guy might get smeared for speaking his mind but i guess he gets diplomatic immunity as a writer. What if I agree with him then. I'll say as much. I think he's very right. He talks about Britain, but you can certainly put Canada in its place.
I like immigration and I like immigrants. I think we have a lot we can learn and experience with peoples of other religions and cultures and countries. I have nothing to say against other races because thats not what i'm talking about. I'm talking about cultural toleration and the fact that there are still moral lines in this country. These are human right issues that i believe we've been fighting for in Afghanistan and other places. If we can't enforce them in Closed Cults, cultural centres or land reserves, then it feels a little confusing to be fighting for them in other countries. Not that i think we shouldn't be in those situations, but you see my point? These morals apply whether you are chinese or indian, muslim or Mormon, Aboriginal or fifth generation canadian dutch. This writer says there is a universal morality. I must agree. If you think i sound offensive (and believe me, it feels like it too) maybe we need to realize that our sensitivity to offend is what can breed ignorance and set us up for a serious fall.
Your thoughts?
Click to link to the article
I like immigration and I like immigrants. I think we have a lot we can learn and experience with peoples of other religions and cultures and countries. I have nothing to say against other races because thats not what i'm talking about. I'm talking about cultural toleration and the fact that there are still moral lines in this country. These are human right issues that i believe we've been fighting for in Afghanistan and other places. If we can't enforce them in Closed Cults, cultural centres or land reserves, then it feels a little confusing to be fighting for them in other countries. Not that i think we shouldn't be in those situations, but you see my point? These morals apply whether you are chinese or indian, muslim or Mormon, Aboriginal or fifth generation canadian dutch. This writer says there is a universal morality. I must agree. If you think i sound offensive (and believe me, it feels like it too) maybe we need to realize that our sensitivity to offend is what can breed ignorance and set us up for a serious fall.
Your thoughts?
Click to link to the article
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Remember
I thought that today I might not go to the cenotaph. I was working and figured that from the field i'd be in at 11:00am I would take a minute to remember the veterans to the pastoral scene of ocean, hills and surmising Canadian Geese.
However, as i began to think on the nature of the day (and also listened to some BBC World Service Podcasts and one with Stuart McLean from CBC- all themed in some way around freedom and rememberance day) I changed my mind.
I came inside the farm house for a coffee and asked my employer where the assembly was held on their island- because i wanted to go. She, who wouldn't have minded if i took the whole day off, offered the Jeep to my use for the rest of the day.
The blue jeep had actually belonged to her late father who had, himself, been a WWII Vet. The Jeep sped and cornered with a spirit that makes one joke that it has a bit of the old Dr. (known for his frenzied driving- perhaps adapted in the war) embedded in it's engine's soul.
The pipers, the RCMP, The Veterans.
The heartstirring anthem and the buglers.
The horn sounded from the fire hall. I think it might have been an air raid signal- although i don't know if such small towns in far-removed Canada were outfitted with them. Whether or not, it was the most stirring moment for me as the incredibly loud signal ripped through me. it was reminiscent of movies that i'd seen with that sound, except this was the real thing. I suddenly felt a reminiscence and empathy for the people who lived through such times.
As the names of the fallen were called I looked into the crowd to see a woman with her daughter's arm holding her- reddened eyes holding back tears. To her this was no mere list of names.
If you were never raised going to your local cenotaph on Nov 11th, i encourage you to not let your habits stop you from getting out of your way next year. The WWI vetrans passed on, it won't be long before the WWII Vetrans are gone before you can stand to salute them.
I hope that Nov 11th is as important to you as it is to me. I feel it is the only day of the year (excepting perhaps Canada day) that all residents of this far and wide should observe.
If you are a vocal pacifict then you are a hipocrite to not lead the way.
If you are an immigrant then these vetrans sacrificed for you as well.
If you are an idealist then learn from those who took self-sacrificing action in the face of the less than ideal, so that you could have ideals.
Other holidays are mostly of cultural or religious affiliation- and therefore you have your freedoms not to be involved (although i wish we'd all share our own cultures and religious affiliations with each other more) but Rememberance day is for every one who calls themselves a free Canadian. It is a moral obligation.
Apparently the silence on Rememberance day was suggested by an Austrailian visiting Britian and seeing the young people dancing and boys kissing the girls in the streets and thought that a silent rememberance would be more appropriate. I certainly agree with him. we don't want the day lost in a party.
However, i must also immagine what it might have felt like to have the war over. The war was reason for solemness. Its end was reason for dancing.
Two days ago was the 20th aniversary of the fall of the Berlin wall. I don't want to over-romanticise this event, but there is no getting around its incredible symbolic and physical significance when it was breached and crossed and torn down. Freedom employed. Wow.
I watched Swing Kids recently and was influenced by the way that the freedom to dance like Americans was threatened to the utmost in youth culture in Germany. I started swing dancing this year, and am pretty glad that i can do so without fear of being shut down or locked up.
I think along with remembering those who sacrificed for our freedom comes a sort of inner obligation to celebrate the aspects of that freedom. Speak freely of religion and culture and art. Get a great education, research history and literature and reach for the sky. Today we remember and we do not forget. For tomorrow we will dance (and maybe even kiss some girls).
Join with me, become aware of our fighting men both past and present. Our boys are supposed to be back from Afganistan in 2011. Let's remeber them too.
However, as i began to think on the nature of the day (and also listened to some BBC World Service Podcasts and one with Stuart McLean from CBC- all themed in some way around freedom and rememberance day) I changed my mind.
I came inside the farm house for a coffee and asked my employer where the assembly was held on their island- because i wanted to go. She, who wouldn't have minded if i took the whole day off, offered the Jeep to my use for the rest of the day.
The blue jeep had actually belonged to her late father who had, himself, been a WWII Vet. The Jeep sped and cornered with a spirit that makes one joke that it has a bit of the old Dr. (known for his frenzied driving- perhaps adapted in the war) embedded in it's engine's soul.
The pipers, the RCMP, The Veterans.
The heartstirring anthem and the buglers.
The horn sounded from the fire hall. I think it might have been an air raid signal- although i don't know if such small towns in far-removed Canada were outfitted with them. Whether or not, it was the most stirring moment for me as the incredibly loud signal ripped through me. it was reminiscent of movies that i'd seen with that sound, except this was the real thing. I suddenly felt a reminiscence and empathy for the people who lived through such times.
As the names of the fallen were called I looked into the crowd to see a woman with her daughter's arm holding her- reddened eyes holding back tears. To her this was no mere list of names.
If you were never raised going to your local cenotaph on Nov 11th, i encourage you to not let your habits stop you from getting out of your way next year. The WWI vetrans passed on, it won't be long before the WWII Vetrans are gone before you can stand to salute them.
I hope that Nov 11th is as important to you as it is to me. I feel it is the only day of the year (excepting perhaps Canada day) that all residents of this far and wide should observe.
If you are a vocal pacifict then you are a hipocrite to not lead the way.
If you are an immigrant then these vetrans sacrificed for you as well.
If you are an idealist then learn from those who took self-sacrificing action in the face of the less than ideal, so that you could have ideals.
Other holidays are mostly of cultural or religious affiliation- and therefore you have your freedoms not to be involved (although i wish we'd all share our own cultures and religious affiliations with each other more) but Rememberance day is for every one who calls themselves a free Canadian. It is a moral obligation.
Apparently the silence on Rememberance day was suggested by an Austrailian visiting Britian and seeing the young people dancing and boys kissing the girls in the streets and thought that a silent rememberance would be more appropriate. I certainly agree with him. we don't want the day lost in a party.
However, i must also immagine what it might have felt like to have the war over. The war was reason for solemness. Its end was reason for dancing.
Two days ago was the 20th aniversary of the fall of the Berlin wall. I don't want to over-romanticise this event, but there is no getting around its incredible symbolic and physical significance when it was breached and crossed and torn down. Freedom employed. Wow.
I watched Swing Kids recently and was influenced by the way that the freedom to dance like Americans was threatened to the utmost in youth culture in Germany. I started swing dancing this year, and am pretty glad that i can do so without fear of being shut down or locked up.
I think along with remembering those who sacrificed for our freedom comes a sort of inner obligation to celebrate the aspects of that freedom. Speak freely of religion and culture and art. Get a great education, research history and literature and reach for the sky. Today we remember and we do not forget. For tomorrow we will dance (and maybe even kiss some girls).
Join with me, become aware of our fighting men both past and present. Our boys are supposed to be back from Afganistan in 2011. Let's remeber them too.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
and get dead
The lone ranger is I
I ride alone despised
Shotgun if anyone should get too close
Rifle for a pot shot at a crow on a post
I ride alone I fight alone
My dying cause is mine alone
I've two handguns with six rounds each
But I'm down to one last shot
I stand alone
I plan alone
I hide alone
I'll die alone
It was here in the wilderness i turned loneliness to strength.
I kept crowds at arms length doing good. doing good.
I can make it on my own. I ride alone
I ride alone.
I've been playing this card game for years now
playing mine close to the chest
every play a poker face
So you can never guess
The stakes are high
They are too high
But I can't let the raise go by
It's hope versus pride
And I'm on the wrong side
The dealer catches fear in my eye
And I'm gambling my life
The stakes are High they are too high
First my saddle then my arms and my spurs
on this line that i walk alone
The game is set it is too set
and I'm fearing that everyone knows how it ends
I've no defence.
I gambled and lost and at the break of dawn
To meet you in a draw
I lost my hand and all my pride
its love versus fear
and I'm on the wrong side
You looked for me high and dry
Wanted posters saying dead and alive
So before my fingers are on the trigger
I'm shot dead in the street
I couldn't have expected any different
Thought I had a licking speed
My career livelihood reputation and shame
is my opponents in a moment by an earth shattering pain
and takes me off my high horse.
Then he ripped out my heart and he put his
in stead
I came up a new man
while Jesus was dead
It's truth versus fear
the stakes are high
I'm walking in here
But I'm on the wrong side
I ride alone despised
Shotgun if anyone should get too close
Rifle for a pot shot at a crow on a post
I ride alone I fight alone
My dying cause is mine alone
I've two handguns with six rounds each
But I'm down to one last shot
I stand alone
I plan alone
I hide alone
I'll die alone
It was here in the wilderness i turned loneliness to strength.
I kept crowds at arms length doing good. doing good.
I can make it on my own. I ride alone
I ride alone.
I've been playing this card game for years now
playing mine close to the chest
every play a poker face
So you can never guess
The stakes are high
They are too high
But I can't let the raise go by
It's hope versus pride
And I'm on the wrong side
The dealer catches fear in my eye
And I'm gambling my life
The stakes are High they are too high
First my saddle then my arms and my spurs
on this line that i walk alone
The game is set it is too set
and I'm fearing that everyone knows how it ends
I've no defence.
I gambled and lost and at the break of dawn
To meet you in a draw
I lost my hand and all my pride
its love versus fear
and I'm on the wrong side
You looked for me high and dry
Wanted posters saying dead and alive
So before my fingers are on the trigger
I'm shot dead in the street
I couldn't have expected any different
Thought I had a licking speed
My career livelihood reputation and shame
is my opponents in a moment by an earth shattering pain
and takes me off my high horse.
Then he ripped out my heart and he put his
in stead
I came up a new man
while Jesus was dead
It's truth versus fear
the stakes are high
I'm walking in here
But I'm on the wrong side
Sunday, November 01, 2009
Drop my Iron
You know what stinks about being a Christian in our society?
Sometimes its the best thing ever. It means we can have freedom of speech and expression and hold congregational meetings reaching into the thousands without overt persecution. It allows for us to share our faith in a country that often as not encourages morality and where we can build our empires without having a governmental system tear them down to equality.
Sometimes it sucks. I find that i become so comfortable in my self-indulgence and convenience that i start thinking that somehow i built the wash machine that cleans my clothes. My race is self sufficient and powerful and democratic which makes us all gods. Praying for the meal sometimes makes me feel ridiculous because i think, "what am i thanking God for. I paid for this meal. I cooked it. Why are we giving the credit to God?" On the flip side, when something goes wrong we have ourselves to blame.
I know. Stupid right? I don't need to explain why... According to James every good and perfect gift comes from God. More elementally- he created me, this world, and the plot of land that i was born on. Its just dangerously easy to fall into this self-worshiping mentality.
In a few months I'll be getting on a plane (according to plans) so as to live for 6 or more months in a impoverished society. For 6 months i will have the opportunity to change my world view and maybe keep it for a while upon re-immersion to a 1st world state. When I'm there i will be praying for the food- that it doesn't make me sick. I will be thanking for the food- because i will see others who have to fight for it. I will be grateful for my health- for i will see others who's health keep them from their full potential and yet they tarry on. I will be conscious of my upbringing- that handed me everything from education to opportunity on a silver platter. But will I truly, here or there, learn to give up and Die to myself.
This is the crux, I believe. Jesus doesn't want half of us or most of us. We are better off giving all of us. I won't pretend that its not like loosing everything you've ever learned to lean on, but I'm starting to think that that was all a crutch anyways.
We live in a society that worships security. If we have enough money, asset and investments; If we have enough friends, debtors and dependents; If we have military and freedom and capitalism; If we have a self sufficient homestead with enough stores built up for Armageddon and enough television to help us forget that we're all gonna die someday anyways; then we are OK.
I'm not saying its a bad idea to plan ahead, but depending on your plans is a little different. There is always the element of unpredictability that proves that we are in fact not in control. If those things spin in our favor- we call it our luck. if they spin from our favor we blame God. If we're smarter than that we realize that we are but mortals.
I guess what I'm getting at is that its time to give up- to surrender- my rights to a new system. Dying to the mortality in the hand of divinity. Its not all about me here.
Sometimes its the best thing ever. It means we can have freedom of speech and expression and hold congregational meetings reaching into the thousands without overt persecution. It allows for us to share our faith in a country that often as not encourages morality and where we can build our empires without having a governmental system tear them down to equality.
Sometimes it sucks. I find that i become so comfortable in my self-indulgence and convenience that i start thinking that somehow i built the wash machine that cleans my clothes. My race is self sufficient and powerful and democratic which makes us all gods. Praying for the meal sometimes makes me feel ridiculous because i think, "what am i thanking God for. I paid for this meal. I cooked it. Why are we giving the credit to God?" On the flip side, when something goes wrong we have ourselves to blame.
I know. Stupid right? I don't need to explain why... According to James every good and perfect gift comes from God. More elementally- he created me, this world, and the plot of land that i was born on. Its just dangerously easy to fall into this self-worshiping mentality.
In a few months I'll be getting on a plane (according to plans) so as to live for 6 or more months in a impoverished society. For 6 months i will have the opportunity to change my world view and maybe keep it for a while upon re-immersion to a 1st world state. When I'm there i will be praying for the food- that it doesn't make me sick. I will be thanking for the food- because i will see others who have to fight for it. I will be grateful for my health- for i will see others who's health keep them from their full potential and yet they tarry on. I will be conscious of my upbringing- that handed me everything from education to opportunity on a silver platter. But will I truly, here or there, learn to give up and Die to myself.
This is the crux, I believe. Jesus doesn't want half of us or most of us. We are better off giving all of us. I won't pretend that its not like loosing everything you've ever learned to lean on, but I'm starting to think that that was all a crutch anyways.
We live in a society that worships security. If we have enough money, asset and investments; If we have enough friends, debtors and dependents; If we have military and freedom and capitalism; If we have a self sufficient homestead with enough stores built up for Armageddon and enough television to help us forget that we're all gonna die someday anyways; then we are OK.
I'm not saying its a bad idea to plan ahead, but depending on your plans is a little different. There is always the element of unpredictability that proves that we are in fact not in control. If those things spin in our favor- we call it our luck. if they spin from our favor we blame God. If we're smarter than that we realize that we are but mortals.
I guess what I'm getting at is that its time to give up- to surrender- my rights to a new system. Dying to the mortality in the hand of divinity. Its not all about me here.
When i give up
You know what stinks about being single?
Sometimes its the best thing ever. It opens up avenues that never could otherwise be opened. It allows for flexibility and mobility and living life a little more dangerously. ( But sometimes you wonder if what you do falls to no accountability that can tell you if it really matters. )
Sometimes it sucks. Being a guy puts several meanings to this, but it can make some days so lonely and meaningless that you feel like if you don't have so much as a life to mean something to or so much as a hand to hold that you'll go crazy.
Theres a lot of pack where this punch comes from, but i think at some point you need to realize that having nothing to loose doesn't cut it once you live up to your own fear and gain everything to loose. Do you really have anything worth saving if you have nothing worth loosing? Or anything worth living for if you have nothing besides yourself to die for? I don't know... i just wonder if all my adventures as self-rightious as they might seem still fall flat if i still can't handle love. ref. 1Cor13. And I mean Love.
Problem is i don't know what i fully mean when i'm beginning to think that love is something you do more than something you feel and something you prove more than a dotted line you sign. But thats another issue altogether i suppose.
I guess what i'm getting at is that its all about self sacrifice isn't it? Its all about risking it all to gain it all; about surrendering to get on the right side; about giving up your own security and ideal that you can rule your own life and realize the incredible truth. It's not all about me here.
Sometimes its the best thing ever. It opens up avenues that never could otherwise be opened. It allows for flexibility and mobility and living life a little more dangerously. ( But sometimes you wonder if what you do falls to no accountability that can tell you if it really matters. )
Sometimes it sucks. Being a guy puts several meanings to this, but it can make some days so lonely and meaningless that you feel like if you don't have so much as a life to mean something to or so much as a hand to hold that you'll go crazy.
Theres a lot of pack where this punch comes from, but i think at some point you need to realize that having nothing to loose doesn't cut it once you live up to your own fear and gain everything to loose. Do you really have anything worth saving if you have nothing worth loosing? Or anything worth living for if you have nothing besides yourself to die for? I don't know... i just wonder if all my adventures as self-rightious as they might seem still fall flat if i still can't handle love. ref. 1Cor13. And I mean Love.
Problem is i don't know what i fully mean when i'm beginning to think that love is something you do more than something you feel and something you prove more than a dotted line you sign. But thats another issue altogether i suppose.
I guess what i'm getting at is that its all about self sacrifice isn't it? Its all about risking it all to gain it all; about surrendering to get on the right side; about giving up your own security and ideal that you can rule your own life and realize the incredible truth. It's not all about me here.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Roadtripping with Girls
I went surfing on the weekend with a couple rad-core girls. Really they were just that... but I'm going to make fun of them a little bit regardless because, despite getting along rediculously well, girls and guys are always going to have their differences. Fortunately this time there were only three.
1.) They get hungry at different times.
Whenever i was hungry I felt bad gorging myself on snacks while they politely declined. Later, however, when i was not feeling hardly a tinge of hunger, they would say they were starved and b-line to the best restraunt in site. No obligations to that, i can be hungry any time required. I'm just noting that its wierd. Girls and guys are different.
2.) They aren't as decisive?
I don't know if this is actually a girl thing or not... but it seemed like decision making was done with a lot more deliberation and uncertainty. With guys, decisions are often made as follows:
Guy 1 "Hey, let's go light a bunch of big logs on fire"
Guys 3-5 "We're in"
Guy 2 "Ok fine"
Decision made.
Decision making with the girls:
Guy 1 "wanna eat food"
Girl 1 "ummmm... no not really"
Girl 2 "maybe"
Guy 1 "so later?"
Girl 1 "ummm maybe"
Girl 2 "umm... probably?"
Guy 1 "What does 'Probably?' mean?
Girl 2 "maybe?"
Guy 1 "I'm going to go light some logs on fire"
Girls and guys are different
3.) Girls don't think lighting giant logs on fire in the middle of the beach is cool.
A small fire is cool, but why not a big one? Trust us, if we wanted to flex our muscles by lifting large things infront of you we would have lifted things that looked more impressive than logs; like rocks or cars. Guys just like big fires, is that so wrong?
Girls and guys are different.
1.) They get hungry at different times.
Whenever i was hungry I felt bad gorging myself on snacks while they politely declined. Later, however, when i was not feeling hardly a tinge of hunger, they would say they were starved and b-line to the best restraunt in site. No obligations to that, i can be hungry any time required. I'm just noting that its wierd. Girls and guys are different.
2.) They aren't as decisive?
I don't know if this is actually a girl thing or not... but it seemed like decision making was done with a lot more deliberation and uncertainty. With guys, decisions are often made as follows:
Guy 1 "Hey, let's go light a bunch of big logs on fire"
Guys 3-5 "We're in"
Guy 2 "Ok fine"
Decision made.
Decision making with the girls:
Guy 1 "wanna eat food"
Girl 1 "ummmm... no not really"
Girl 2 "maybe"
Guy 1 "so later?"
Girl 1 "ummm maybe"
Girl 2 "umm... probably?"
Guy 1 "What does 'Probably?' mean?
Girl 2 "maybe?"
Guy 1 "I'm going to go light some logs on fire"
Girls and guys are different
3.) Girls don't think lighting giant logs on fire in the middle of the beach is cool.
A small fire is cool, but why not a big one? Trust us, if we wanted to flex our muscles by lifting large things infront of you we would have lifted things that looked more impressive than logs; like rocks or cars. Guys just like big fires, is that so wrong?
Girls and guys are different.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Wounds
The theme of love, of believing that God is truly a good God in a world suspended in greys and twilights is not one that has escaped my life experience, and perhaps its important that it hasn't. It is a human theme. We need love but people let us down. How can anyone truly love without fail? I know i can't, so it becomes as hard to fall in love as it becomes to accept love. Falling has always required trust and has never been safe. If you are left without arms to fall into too many times it becomes nearly impossible to trust again. But faith makes or breaks us. Unfortunately I think that a cold and embittered heart has become the preference for all too many people. Even though I should understand love more than most people from my life experiences alone, i still struggle on this point. This is why it is important to be honest on this point. no one needs me telling them something that i have difficulty believing myself. I have to wonder about those people who seem to have blind faith. Seems terribly dangerous to me. Maybe stupid. Definitely weird. Although if thats you, then cool. Sit me down for coffee and tell me how its done. Meanwhile I fall in with the broken and hurt and imperfect and ungodly. Maybe more like the samaritan woman at the well than anyone else. I want to know. I want to believe. I need to believe, but we know that sometimes its hard. I can't see the sun for the daylight: can't see His breath for the wind. But this is what faith is. And if there's anyway for the devil himself to stop my service is for him to convince me of the absence of grace and love. If only for this reason we need each other to help us see the light in the darkness...
But I only meant this as an introduction to a few songs that I've crossed recently that I thought were quite beautiful and spoke on this -very human- topic.
I've really come to enjoy "You Found Me" by The Fray. Isaac Slade, the lead singer expressed the song meaning in the following words from two different interviews:
"You Found Me" is a tough song for me. Its about the disappointment, the heart ache, the let down that comes with life. Sometimes you're let down, sometimes you're the one who lets someone else down. It gets hard to know who you can trust, who you can count on. This song came out of a tough time... It takes so much of my faith to keep believing, keep hoping in the unseen. Sometimes the tunnel has a light at the end, but usually they just look black as night. This song is about that feeling, and the hope that i still have, buried deep in my chest.
I kept getting these phone calls from home - tragedy after tragedy. If there is some kind of person in charge of this planet - are they sleeping? Smoking? Where are they? I just imagined running into God standing on a street corner like Bruce Springsteen, smoking a cigarette, and I'd have it out with him."
I found God on the corner of 1st and Amistad
Where the West was all but won
All alone, smoking his last cigarette
I said, "where've you been?" He said, "Ask anything."
Where were you, when everything was falling apart.
All my days were spent by the tephone that never rang
And all i needed was a call that never came
To the corner of 1st and Amistad
Lost and insecure, You found me, you found me
Why'd you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late, you found me, you found me.
Another record I've been enjoying recently is one called "the Heat" by Need To Breathe.
Their song "Again" painfully and beautifully paints the fear of falling in love.
I won't leave you roses to watch them die.
You won't be the heartache that keeps me sleepless
You won't be the songs that I could never write
I don't want to stay, I don't want to fall
I don't want to have to see you leave me.
I don't want stay, I don't want to fall in love...
"Looks like love" resolves the conflict later on the album
Our hearts can only shake when there's risk that they could break.
Yea its a risk that I will take.
Raise your head. Its time to say those words that I have left unsaid.
I've slept through the sunrise and I turned away every time it got bright.
I won't run when it looks like love.
I recently turned up a poem i wrote about a year ago and forgot about.
We Think we're mortified
Or that we're petrified
We know we're lost inside
But what's we got to find?
Something deep within missed
That some say never did exist
We're all accidents down here
Explaining pain. Causing fear.
All that's left of fallen gods
Of some lost kingdom long forgotten
And when the beauty of the light
Comes contrasting to turn our heads
We'll close our eyes, The cut's too deep
To risk infection by a dirty sheet
Drawing the life that's left of me
Hanging it for the world to see
What have I become?
We'll stick to our own gun turret
Here that always kept us safe
It's like four walls closing in
But I'll hold my own, this blood soaked place
If "Help me now" escape my lips
Then my religion is lost
The only way to keep me safe
Is keeping this room locked
If hope should be found in me
If I could believe that light
Could ever shine unto me
Then show me now
You're in my sights.
I just really wanted to share some song and verse but i guess if there was a point to this it might be this: that nobody wants to hear you say that they're a bad person or that you're better than them. But if you believe you are worth loving then you should believe that others are worth loving. If you know that you need love then wake up and realize that everybody feels the same thing. Show a little love eh?
Saturday, January 03, 2009
So this is the new Year
I was talking to a friend recently about how, when we both were younger, we thought we'd have done so much and come so far in life by the time we came to where we are now. But of course looking at our lives presently, we easily deducted that our lives and accomplishments have resembled nothing similar. Are there regrets to accompany this observation? No. Life is not what i thought it'd be by now when i was in high school, but I am glad that I have ended up where i am with the experiences i have nonetheless. Who thought things could be better than i imagined?
It may sound either pie-in-the-sky philosophy or freethinking foolishness to say this but i will say it because i think it is something more: life has more to do with who you are than what you do. Certainly one effects the other, but I tend to think its the former which takes it effect on the latter rather than the contrary.
This summer I met someone who asked me a question almost immediately upon our meeting. "Are you living the dream? Are you where you want to be- doing what you want to be doing- in life?"
That question might have come across as an awkward conversation opener in most settings, but in this case the friend who i've since learned is a career counselor, pastor and father was too well meaning and good humored for me to answer glibly.
"you know what..." I answered, "I am. "
How good it felt to say that.
There had been many times, especially in that previous year when i would have thought twice before answering a round-about no. This time I answered yes... and I think there's something significant there.
I believe that God has made us. I believe that we are his creations whom he has chosen to extend unbelievable love to. And i think that if we see that and function as he designed us to in relationship to him that we will find ourselves "living the dream". This is what i mean when I say that who you are might president what you do.
Simply, I think that seeing yourself as a child of God changes a lot of things.
I don't know exactly where I'm headed in this journey... but I wouldn't ask to be elsewhere. Lately when people ask me what I'm up to, I answer, "I'm living the dream."
Life may not always be as comfortable as it is right now, but I hope that i can, regardless of circumstances, always say that I am...
In Christ,
"living the dream."
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
We are the Dead
I decided to go to the Cenotaph for this Rememberance Day, but first I had to find out where it was. I searched online couldn't find an address or order of ceremony, but there was a map that pointed to its general location, so I used that as a start. After cruising around the area I decided that the map could have been wrong and started looking in another part of town. Giving up on that, I decided to pull into a coffee shop and look at one of their newspapers. Surely a local newspaper from the day before would provide information on where and when events would be held.
Nope. So I decided to ask the Barista if she knew where the cenotaph was.
"The...?"
"The cenotaph"
This is awkward and she looks confused, she probably thinks the Cenotaph is some pagan temple or something... Let's try again,
"The memorial? The place where they have rememberance day stuff?"
"um... Kyla probably knows, I'll ask her..."
I wait while she gets her co-worker's attention
"This guy is looking for the..."
"The cenotaph"
"The ceno... ?"
"The place where they have the Rememberance day festivities. Well not festivities, more like a events or assembly or whatever, you know?"
"Rememberance day...?"
This is going no-where
Then a lady who looked like she was over 25, overhearing gave me directions. I thanked her (for the fact that she knew what I was talking about as well as for that she was able to help me be on my way).
Half way there I pulled in behind the distinctive ford scored with firefighting logos that I knew belonged to the biggest war buff in school and the one person I would trust to be heading one place 10:30am on Nov 11. I followed him the rest of the way and found He was glad that I came. He was there with his wife, brother and sister-in-law, so I wasn't suddenly so alone in my venture.
Did you know that today was the 90th anniversary of the end of WWI? 90 years! A lifetime, that's it. Much less time spans us and WWII. The local roll call of those fallen was perhaps a dozen for WWI and some 30 or 40 for WWII. How many people lived in this cow town at the time? Not many... of which a dozen during WWI, 30 or 40 during WWII would have been a considerable percentage! There was also one fallen in Afghanistan, a silent reminder that war is far from extinction.
The turn out wasn't much bigger than my home town which is a much smaller town, but that might be accountable to the fact that my home town has a far older populace.
The cadets marched into the square. Usually I'm not a big fan of cadets, but today they looked in good form. The Mounties came next followed by the military. Mounties, as ridiculous as any non-Canadian may say they look are sure to always convey a sense of true Canadianism in me. These, with the military appear disciplined to a tee. They can't afford to fake it. The veterans walk in, amongst respectful clapping, bearing Flags that represent Canada, British Columbia, the United Nations, and some others I'd be slower to name: probably The RCAF and divisions like that.
There's the anthem, the silence, the gun salute and the long recognitions as family members show their respects at the wreaths.
"Why is it that i feel a need to go?" I asked myself as I was on my way there. It wasn't likely that many if any of my school associates would be attending. I guess its because I've been raised to believe that it is important. And I do. I think its very important, and the day when I forget the 11th of November will be a bitter bitter irony indeed.
LEST
WE
Forget
Saturday, November 08, 2008
thoughts (H:11:1)
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Never been easy to understand. But neither is our Creator who is worthy of all trust and faith. Closed eyes open to the providence in the dark that surrounds like a blanket all lost. And a pinhold of light breathes like hope through the canvas of our closed tight eyelides. Hope rises on horizon like endlessday forboding. And I, I with squint eyes now open break day with a grin. Love has come. Love has come. Love has come. And I'm ready to go home now.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
A walk in the woods
I make it a habit to go for a walk most mornings. With much thankfulness I can say that I most always have somewhere enjoyable to walk. In my current estate it is a short trail that finds its way up the side of a small mountain as it bends away from a quiet road and a surging stream (in which, today, I saw my first salmon this year. Two of them, each some 20 inches long.)
It was a beautiful morning today. Accented by the fact that it had been raining with opression the day before, the sun cutting colors through the golden autumn leaves left an impression that only being there could render. I stopped at a point where I could still see the road bending away below and still hear the rushing of the stream behind the birds and the forest's hum. My feet have stopped crunching leaves beneath them and in the thick stillness I see the trees growing up the decline below set as silhouettes against the relentless morning sun- whose beams lay stripes on the path and make my shadow dance quietly in the underbrush when I walk. The air is misty and dense. For the first time I notice that steam is rising off the moss growing on the trees below me, which had accumulated much moisture the day before and was now giving it back to the demand of a new day rising.
Amazed with the lot of it I look upward and wonder at the golden yellow leaves that pattern the sky from their limbs and motherly trunks that set themselves far below on the ground beside me.
"Like a crown." I think to myself.
"But not a spoiled and pompous crown that we think of ( so unfortunately) when we think of kingly. No. This crown is one that is too earthy in tone to assume more than it is. This maple dons a humble crown. Up there, existing in all its splendor, this maple knows that to think of itself more than a maple would only destroy the true glory that its simple existence allowed it. Such is humanity! So creation - so our lives."
And for a moment again I realize that being quiet and enjoying the Creators work is no less than he might have me do in this moment. Enjoy, breathe, learn.
Why not?
I continue to walk again, only in time for another traveller on the trail to mostly miss seeing me gazing off into the air. As his dog approaches the owner makes a joke.
"There ya go Fellah!"
Talking to his dog,
"You can have him for breakfast!"
Talking about me.
I laugh and give the canine a rub on the head before carrying on to greet his owner and pass by. Walking away I think to myself how much I liked the dog.
Later I see a small bird that land and skirts around my near peripheral- enough to show his colors that would have been a blur in flight. Then he flies away.
The morning sun is burning on into day and I am almost back to the place I currently call home.
Hope, Love, Truth hold ground in me today.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
I know God loves me. But I don't need to know. I need love.
I was just sitting here on my couch listening to Jars' new recording of "Love song for a Savior" when a simple and profound thought struck me.
Here i am, having been raised by an incredibly loving family in a relitavely supportive social structure. I've accepted God's love in my life, at least so I say. I'm at Bible college, have a bible, and have discovered that page after page spells love, and yet...
Yet I have such a hard time accepting God's love. I know it I know it I know it.... than why don't I receive it? Ephesians 3:19 says that the love of Christ "surpasses knowledge" (niv).... well then why can't I believe it. Its so important I know. my emotional, physical and spiritual self all scream for it.
The message in church today was more or less about taking the love into the world. It was about showing God to a world who is caught in a great separation from God- from Truth.
I have every reason to do this don't I? What is the thing that would hold me back?
If the enemy wants to hold off the attack, what is an easier way to do it, to fight back, or to make his enemies question their cause?
This was my thought: No wonder I have a problem receiving and believing God's love! What better place for the Enemy to target all of his arrows?
In addition, what better way to infuriate God?
Where did i put that shield of faith?
So How do we combat the lies? I'm sure there are many ways, but on a practical note I know God's love most presently and practically and real when another of the body of Christ shows Christlike love to me. There's nothing like it. Maybe there is more to be said for encouragement and love among comrades than I thought about before.
Simple, but in my mind, profound.
I put off lunch to write this.
Love ya later,
mc
Thursday, October 02, 2008
What would a smart person do?
Sometimes I get to thinking about the stupid things i did when i was younger, sometimes these things are laughable, and on a bad day depressing. But in any case, I was thinking recently about how it seems every year I think I've got it together-like "now I've arrived".
Having realized that i seem to think this all the time and i still look back on my mistakes and groan at my ignorance leads me to ask one question (which i hope proves some increase in wisdom). The question is this: What stupid thing am i doing right now?!
Ok, so I'm sortof joking... because if i thought that way all the time I'd probably hide in my closet afraid to do anythings for risk that i will fail. But I think it is worth having friends around who can check you and kick you in the rear when you need it, 'cause sometimes it takes another party to see your stupidity just as it might take another party to see your success.
Just a thought
from yours truly
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Breakfast
As I ate my pancakes this morning,
I thought
In the nineteen eighties there was a big scare about
Bombs
That maybe
One would set the world ablaze with an apocalypse
(I lived in Canada
On a farm
And i think i remember the tv being on
And having military on screen
We didn't watch much tv
It might have been cuba
As my mother folded laundry
In the farmhouse)
I had Maple syrup on my pancakes today
I remember the scares
Terror
Death
Kids stay inside
I remember the turn of the century
Bunker down
They said
Even though nothing happened
Not to say that nothing has
They say that our society is consumeristic
It's probably more so than the history of mankind put together
But then again
We have technology
Improving moving
Plastics and oil. Computers and landfills.
I don't begrudge
It's just
I had maple syrup on my pancakes.
There are men that we are told to be afraid of
Or men that we're supposed to hate
Or races that we're supposed to dissengage with
Or sects who we disregard.
I'm not proposing much
Its just,
I had maple syrup this morning
Be careful or your frail body will fall victim to danger
Stay under the shelter of your knowledge
I hear the president has an "end the world now" button
In his office
And that the Pope has a direct phone line to God
I hear that DNA has been mapped by supercomputers
and that someone cloned a sheep
But I sit back
And have to laugh
Because i have maple syrup on my pancakes.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Here
Well, one way to make a change in the, sometimes horrific, world could be this. It seems to have worked before. Its something. Oh, and if you can't go to Washington D.C. you can digitally sign what i think to be an pretty darn good petition.
Easier on paper I'm sure, but i guess that not for us to complain... right?
hmmm... it seems like if injustice isn't staring you in the face, it's easier to disagree with but harder to punch out cold...
Thought i'd throw these out to those who potentially read here.
"Peace"
Easier on paper I'm sure, but i guess that not for us to complain... right?
hmmm... it seems like if injustice isn't staring you in the face, it's easier to disagree with but harder to punch out cold...
Thought i'd throw these out to those who potentially read here.
"Peace"
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Rain Falling on a Battle Field
The Blood on my brow is washed to the ground
And the blood on my spear is forgotten
By a million tears
Pools on the ground reflect our image
And no one in time can explain the scrimmage
Emotions are washed as the thunderheads roll
And lightning flash lights all our faces exposed
The heavy warm rain weighs battle gear down
And one by one, pieces all fall to the ground
And bare chested men, exposed for their worth
Care not for their colors, which lay mingled with earth
Instead all washing their nakedness clean
Are united as one. No difference seen.
And as water quenches a dry tongue
Its invigoration gives life to breath
And one lifts his arms t'ward heaven
In the thundrous quietness
And everyone, they see
That they've all become the same
And that theres only now one army
In the rain
mc Jan/08
And the blood on my spear is forgotten
By a million tears
Pools on the ground reflect our image
And no one in time can explain the scrimmage
Emotions are washed as the thunderheads roll
And lightning flash lights all our faces exposed
The heavy warm rain weighs battle gear down
And one by one, pieces all fall to the ground
And bare chested men, exposed for their worth
Care not for their colors, which lay mingled with earth
Instead all washing their nakedness clean
Are united as one. No difference seen.
And as water quenches a dry tongue
Its invigoration gives life to breath
And one lifts his arms t'ward heaven
In the thundrous quietness
And everyone, they see
That they've all become the same
And that theres only now one army
In the rain
mc Jan/08
Friday, January 11, 2008
Hope Love Life...
The fact of the matter is that I should have crashed and burned a thousand times.
It was only the Grace of God that kept me on me feet and only the knowledge of which that gave me the will to keep standing.
I fall and I fall again and become subject to grace and slowly become by humility- that sweet revelation of seeing myself as I really am.
God said I was worth saving.
I'm worth something. I have to throw off everything I was caught up in about myself to see what that really is because surely this self-motivated pride stuff isn't it. That becomes humility and I begin to see myself as God sees me and I begin to realize that I'm worth more than I ever knew. I stop fighting as a rebel that feels helplessly disvalued by the world. I stop acting defensively knowing my own failures and realize that to continue- knowing what I know now- is pointless, prideful and rebellious. God has called me to something more. He has valued me higher than that! To disvalue what he has called valuable (even worth dying for) - what blasphemy is that!?
Knowing what i know now i act out of a new entity and agenda and no-one said it would be easy (when a sinful nature, evil, and -it seems sometimes- the whole world is going the other way down the stream.)
Maybe you've seen the way a friend's demeanor changes when he gets into a job that is fulfilling to him, or when he starts back at college and feels like his life is going somewhere, or when he enters a relationship with a significant other. Suddenly there’s something real to live for!
Jesus showed me that i was worth something. I respond and accept it. I love him for it and respond accordingly (Something most definitely real to live for!)I find myself living -ideally every part of my life and being- for HIM. Purpose. Hope. Life. Love.
Alright...
I Found Profound
From a book of clever and heartwarming short stories and antidotes about life that my mom recommended, called "Front Porch Tales"( by Phillip Gulley.)
I was apprehended by the end of one of the stories called "The Kitchen Table" By the moral which I found considerably profound. Maybe you won't; maybe you will. The following is the summary from that chapter:
"A friend came for dinner not long ago. He asked me where I had bought my table, and I told him I had made it. He wanted me to make him one, but I told him no. A man has to be careful not to let his hobby become his business. He was talking about how his kitchen ta ble is forever falling apart and lamenting the shoddy nature of today's craftmanship. People slapping things together in five minutes expecting them to last a lifetime.
We got to talking about how that isn't only true about furniture, it's true about life. Folks get discouraged because God doesn't make them saints overnight. They don't understand all the years of God-work that go into making one's life a thing of beauty- a lot of shaping, a lot of smoothing, a lot of finishing. And if we rush the process, the flaws will surely show.
Once a week I rub a coat of lemon oil into my table. It reminds me that my table is never really finished. Kind of like me. "
I was apprehended by the end of one of the stories called "The Kitchen Table" By the moral which I found considerably profound. Maybe you won't; maybe you will. The following is the summary from that chapter:
"A friend came for dinner not long ago. He asked me where I had bought my table, and I told him I had made it. He wanted me to make him one, but I told him no. A man has to be careful not to let his hobby become his business. He was talking about how his kitchen ta ble is forever falling apart and lamenting the shoddy nature of today's craftmanship. People slapping things together in five minutes expecting them to last a lifetime.
We got to talking about how that isn't only true about furniture, it's true about life. Folks get discouraged because God doesn't make them saints overnight. They don't understand all the years of God-work that go into making one's life a thing of beauty- a lot of shaping, a lot of smoothing, a lot of finishing. And if we rush the process, the flaws will surely show.
Once a week I rub a coat of lemon oil into my table. It reminds me that my table is never really finished. Kind of like me. "
What can I do?
I regularly read World Vision Bulletins.
World Vision is an organization which I have come to trust for relatively accurate international statistics and news. It has also proved itself to be nothing less than a respectable and effective Christian Humanitarian Organization.
So when I read their most recent Bulletin with the heading, "Sudan Crisis Continues. Dozens Die from Hunger Daily." I have reason to believe that it is more than an attention grabbing header. Its probably also nothing less than the truth.
Same goes for the other bulletins I've pulled out of the archives. One reads, "Action now will save lives! Silently, starvation stalks millions in Africa". Another "emergency bulletin" appeals that "Starvation Threatens Millions in Zimbabwe". This one includes a picture of a mere toddler sitting sadly, stomach enlarged from sickness, on the ground.
Of course these Bulletins appeal for financial support for these situations and as I read the details of the specific catastrophe I will probably be moved to give up a bit of what I suddenly realize is worth so little to me and so much to them. My heart begins to break as i begin to comprehend what I'm reading.
I've come to wonder, however, if money is really all I can give...
I know that there is desperate need left right and center. I need not look far and I need not look for the physically malnourished or sick. However, the physical need in countries like Sudan, Zimbambwe, Kenya, Ethiopia and Darfur is what I'm looking at imparticular at the moment.
In our typical western mindset we seem to assume that money will make everything all right. Everybody needs money and everything can be done through the all sufficient currency.
Can it really?
I want to know.
If money is all it would take to stop dozens from dying in Sudan daily then why does starvation continue? What is money? We've got lots of it don't we? If that's all it takes and they're not getting it then I fear that something is not right at all. Surely that can't be all there is to it... can it?
Is it a lack of educated people helping those in impoverished countries to survive, heal and rebuild? I never see much of a recruit section on the World Vision website for this. Are more people needed? If so, what kind of people? What kind of training is needed? These are things I actually want to know! Nurses? Agriculturalists? School Teachers? Economists? Engineers?
And my third question is, if it's not money and if it's not people then why do people still die?
I know that this question is very ignorant and that the answer is very involved, but If you have a possible partial answer, I'd like to hear.
mc
World Vision is an organization which I have come to trust for relatively accurate international statistics and news. It has also proved itself to be nothing less than a respectable and effective Christian Humanitarian Organization.
So when I read their most recent Bulletin with the heading, "Sudan Crisis Continues. Dozens Die from Hunger Daily." I have reason to believe that it is more than an attention grabbing header. Its probably also nothing less than the truth.
Same goes for the other bulletins I've pulled out of the archives. One reads, "Action now will save lives! Silently, starvation stalks millions in Africa". Another "emergency bulletin" appeals that "Starvation Threatens Millions in Zimbabwe". This one includes a picture of a mere toddler sitting sadly, stomach enlarged from sickness, on the ground.
Of course these Bulletins appeal for financial support for these situations and as I read the details of the specific catastrophe I will probably be moved to give up a bit of what I suddenly realize is worth so little to me and so much to them. My heart begins to break as i begin to comprehend what I'm reading.
I've come to wonder, however, if money is really all I can give...
I know that there is desperate need left right and center. I need not look far and I need not look for the physically malnourished or sick. However, the physical need in countries like Sudan, Zimbambwe, Kenya, Ethiopia and Darfur is what I'm looking at imparticular at the moment.
In our typical western mindset we seem to assume that money will make everything all right. Everybody needs money and everything can be done through the all sufficient currency.
Can it really?
I want to know.
If money is all it would take to stop dozens from dying in Sudan daily then why does starvation continue? What is money? We've got lots of it don't we? If that's all it takes and they're not getting it then I fear that something is not right at all. Surely that can't be all there is to it... can it?
Is it a lack of educated people helping those in impoverished countries to survive, heal and rebuild? I never see much of a recruit section on the World Vision website for this. Are more people needed? If so, what kind of people? What kind of training is needed? These are things I actually want to know! Nurses? Agriculturalists? School Teachers? Economists? Engineers?
And my third question is, if it's not money and if it's not people then why do people still die?
I know that this question is very ignorant and that the answer is very involved, but If you have a possible partial answer, I'd like to hear.
mc
Sunday, October 28, 2007
To die, Truly to Live
There comes points when the things we have to fight for or at least stand in objection on their behalf become pointed and concise. I probably will not say all that has been on my mind on such matters for the last while except that some of these causes have come to a starker battleline in my mind.
I have begun to lose confidence in instititions that I once took as acceptable in the imperfection that institution have to a biased individual. In true Canadian form I figured we have it pretty good and I can leave things mostly up to the government to decide. However, I say it to say that that bell inside me has gone off. This is the bell that just knows that something is not right. Something can not be tolerated. There is injustice and it must be stood against.
What is a truly Christ-like approach to injustice? That is one very loaded question.
But it is a sort of beautiful thing to believe that you are fighting for righteousness.
I have begun to lose confidence in instititions that I once took as acceptable in the imperfection that institution have to a biased individual. In true Canadian form I figured we have it pretty good and I can leave things mostly up to the government to decide. However, I say it to say that that bell inside me has gone off. This is the bell that just knows that something is not right. Something can not be tolerated. There is injustice and it must be stood against.
What is a truly Christ-like approach to injustice? That is one very loaded question.
But it is a sort of beautiful thing to believe that you are fighting for righteousness.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Closer on Sundays
Do our sunday morning church services promote the idea of a impersonal God. Of a God who is only in the presence of the clergy, in the 2 hours, on a sunday morning? And that is why we go?
Do we expect God to be more "present" there than anywhere else?
Do we want God to be as "present" all the time anyways?
(Is Omnipresence biblical? Is Omnipotent biblical? Do those questions matter?)
"Is that why we go?"
If not, then is that place to be more revered than the bible study, or more holy than the coffee shop, or more a place to meet with God than your local bar, your getaway, your hiding place, or East Hastings? More than your friend's broken home, the sufferer's broken hope, or your own broken soul?
(Let's ask Him now)
Do we expect God to be more "present" there than anywhere else?
Do we want God to be as "present" all the time anyways?
(Is Omnipresence biblical? Is Omnipotent biblical? Do those questions matter?)
"Is that why we go?"
If not, then is that place to be more revered than the bible study, or more holy than the coffee shop, or more a place to meet with God than your local bar, your getaway, your hiding place, or East Hastings? More than your friend's broken home, the sufferer's broken hope, or your own broken soul?
(Let's ask Him now)
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
departure: on a personal note
They say that old habits die hard. The same could be said of old friends.
I wonder, however, if new friends don't die hardest.
It's been a crazy year, certainly. I would be dishonest to say that there hasn't been times when I considered dropping my current expenditure all together in the pursuit of something else. For better or worse, my outlook on Bible college has improved this semester. Not only am I coming to realize it's practicality and what it has actually done already to improve my skills but I have also begun to meld with a community. I have come to find some level of human syncronicity which I believe is about as valuable and biblically a part of the Christian and human experience as it is comfortable and wonderful and painfully difficult to consider leaving.
I have built friends. Friends die hard. The old ones can pass from direct correlation with less pain perhaps because of the unbreakable tie which already exists and which we both know will not break. New friends, no matter how much my personality connects with them or the intense experiences we've shared or conversations we've delved into, don't perhaps have that same unbreakable tie. Though I may not think much of it later, right now it is difficult.
My room right now is in slight disarray. Things are in boxes or general piles in preparation for eventually moving out. It is another reminder that the end will probably come upon me quickly, and before I could ever have thought to have tied up loose ends and said adequate goodbyes.
It seems I've never been that good at goodbyes. I'm not sure if it's because I'm afraid of vulnerability and so decide to be senseless and overly-practical on the matter or if I simply see no worth in too much emotional expulsion when all things come to an end, its the future and the present we strive for (not things past), and after all- most of my worthy friends I'll see again one day in this life or the next. Why get worked up over a few years? Does that sound cold? Life is a battle, casualties are regular and those closest friends to me have often been friends expendable as myself to the cause at hand. Hmmm... Perhaps that's what makes it so difficult and confusing. It's not pure sadness regret or even anger. It's a confusion coming from a deep connection; and though the will is keen and the mind decided, the emotions are hard to express and the heart hard to read.
My thoughts and feelings bear a resemblance of a kind to my room. They are messy and being put aside to be dealt with later. I wonder, however, if I won't be able to just throw every thought into the back of my head like stuff into the truck box, but rather loose conclusions and work projects into loose ends and unconfirmities as I walk along the road of tying down the bird cage while the pheasant flies away with my heart. Ya, unsorted thoughts indeed. Don't mind me.
On a different note, I drove to Ashcroft last weekend (just before Cash Creek)- a little interesting update for you. It was a fun time. For a good story: we ( my traveling companions and I) prayed that my truck would make it and that it would have enough gas to get us there (as we began to think she was hitting rock bottom with no stops left on the route.)
I think God might have had some good humor in response to that prayer- or maybe He just knew I needed a close call to learn to rely on Him - yet again.
The truck coasted down the last bit of the highway, across the Thompson river, into Ashcroft, down the road, and brought us practically to the doorstep of our destination (with minimal pushing). Now that was rad! (Although next time I'd better fill up the tank).
I wonder, however, if new friends don't die hardest.
It's been a crazy year, certainly. I would be dishonest to say that there hasn't been times when I considered dropping my current expenditure all together in the pursuit of something else. For better or worse, my outlook on Bible college has improved this semester. Not only am I coming to realize it's practicality and what it has actually done already to improve my skills but I have also begun to meld with a community. I have come to find some level of human syncronicity which I believe is about as valuable and biblically a part of the Christian and human experience as it is comfortable and wonderful and painfully difficult to consider leaving.
I have built friends. Friends die hard. The old ones can pass from direct correlation with less pain perhaps because of the unbreakable tie which already exists and which we both know will not break. New friends, no matter how much my personality connects with them or the intense experiences we've shared or conversations we've delved into, don't perhaps have that same unbreakable tie. Though I may not think much of it later, right now it is difficult.
My room right now is in slight disarray. Things are in boxes or general piles in preparation for eventually moving out. It is another reminder that the end will probably come upon me quickly, and before I could ever have thought to have tied up loose ends and said adequate goodbyes.
It seems I've never been that good at goodbyes. I'm not sure if it's because I'm afraid of vulnerability and so decide to be senseless and overly-practical on the matter or if I simply see no worth in too much emotional expulsion when all things come to an end, its the future and the present we strive for (not things past), and after all- most of my worthy friends I'll see again one day in this life or the next. Why get worked up over a few years? Does that sound cold? Life is a battle, casualties are regular and those closest friends to me have often been friends expendable as myself to the cause at hand. Hmmm... Perhaps that's what makes it so difficult and confusing. It's not pure sadness regret or even anger. It's a confusion coming from a deep connection; and though the will is keen and the mind decided, the emotions are hard to express and the heart hard to read.
My thoughts and feelings bear a resemblance of a kind to my room. They are messy and being put aside to be dealt with later. I wonder, however, if I won't be able to just throw every thought into the back of my head like stuff into the truck box, but rather loose conclusions and work projects into loose ends and unconfirmities as I walk along the road of tying down the bird cage while the pheasant flies away with my heart. Ya, unsorted thoughts indeed. Don't mind me.
On a different note, I drove to Ashcroft last weekend (just before Cash Creek)- a little interesting update for you. It was a fun time. For a good story: we ( my traveling companions and I) prayed that my truck would make it and that it would have enough gas to get us there (as we began to think she was hitting rock bottom with no stops left on the route.)
I think God might have had some good humor in response to that prayer- or maybe He just knew I needed a close call to learn to rely on Him - yet again.
The truck coasted down the last bit of the highway, across the Thompson river, into Ashcroft, down the road, and brought us practically to the doorstep of our destination (with minimal pushing). Now that was rad! (Although next time I'd better fill up the tank).
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Culture Thief
This is something I have thought about and pondered for quite some time, the item of Christian mission stealing ethnic culture. Although this has been put on the table even more in my recent Cross Cultural Studies class, I'd like to look at it in a more localized light as well.
Having grown up going to Church "functions" and services I have seen the church communities successes and failures to be relevant (if I may use such a use thrashed word). Living in what I will call the "buckle of the bible belt" (Audio Adrenaline coined that one) (and in a secluded Bible college setting no less) has made the failures and attempts to "relevancy" (lets call it relatability- I think that works better) quite bold.
Think about your city, Do you appreciate it for its diversity? Do you enjoy its spectra of talent, ability, creativity and ingenuity- even its open-mindness?
Now think about if your whole city were to become converted Christians in the manner that the institutionalized church appears to generally intend. That is, to bring them all to church, integrate them into church culture and then let them out again.
Maybe you yourself are getting a little bored of "church" as you know it- not because theres no truth and community there but because otherwise it is very unrelatable.
(I don't want to sound complacent, but try to spur envisioning and thoughts for a crazier tomorrow. )
I don't want to go knocking on my local church body either, because I think they rock! However, trying to find a place for open and constructive and thought provoking criticism I say this: If your city was to become all like the general "church-goers" how much of the culture and soul of your city would be left?
I am not saying that "church goers" are not inwardly diverse, but they often outwardly seem quite similar, general, limited and open to stereotypes.
That leads to another question, and on this one I am still working in my own life.
Could it be that a lie has been planted in our life that we should be less than we have been created to be because a sort of cultural theology that constantly restricts our potential?
I don't know. It's a hard question to ask.
Having grown up going to Church "functions" and services I have seen the church communities successes and failures to be relevant (if I may use such a use thrashed word). Living in what I will call the "buckle of the bible belt" (Audio Adrenaline coined that one) (and in a secluded Bible college setting no less) has made the failures and attempts to "relevancy" (lets call it relatability- I think that works better) quite bold.
Think about your city, Do you appreciate it for its diversity? Do you enjoy its spectra of talent, ability, creativity and ingenuity- even its open-mindness?
Now think about if your whole city were to become converted Christians in the manner that the institutionalized church appears to generally intend. That is, to bring them all to church, integrate them into church culture and then let them out again.
Maybe you yourself are getting a little bored of "church" as you know it- not because theres no truth and community there but because otherwise it is very unrelatable.
(I don't want to sound complacent, but try to spur envisioning and thoughts for a crazier tomorrow. )
I don't want to go knocking on my local church body either, because I think they rock! However, trying to find a place for open and constructive and thought provoking criticism I say this: If your city was to become all like the general "church-goers" how much of the culture and soul of your city would be left?
I am not saying that "church goers" are not inwardly diverse, but they often outwardly seem quite similar, general, limited and open to stereotypes.
That leads to another question, and on this one I am still working in my own life.
Could it be that a lie has been planted in our life that we should be less than we have been created to be because a sort of cultural theology that constantly restricts our potential?
I don't know. It's a hard question to ask.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Adrenaline Days
Possibly one of the most influential movies on my life (although I suppose there has been many) is "Dead Poets Society". If you have ever seen the movie, you know that it can be summed up in three English words or two Latin words. Carpe Diem: Seize the Day.
Some will say to look before you leap. Others will say that he who hesitates is lost. Where is the balance of foolishness and recklessness when it comes to risks? I don't know. But I hear that when old people were surveyed (for those who believe surveys), one of the biggest things they regretted not doing more in their lives was taking risks.
What might taking risks do for me?
- it might quench a stale and boring lifestyle
- it would probably break me outside of my comfort zone into realms of new possibilities
- It might help me make mistakes that I learn more from than I would have anyways otherwise.
- It could help me recognize the vitality and realness that life can be as I push limits.
- It might result in a Bill Gates Maneuver some day. Ha Ha, Caching!
How does this fit with God's intent for my life?
- will I shy from taking risks for fear that they are not in God's will?
- or will I embrace them, knowing that God is my strength in everything and, like a father to child, will pick me up if I fall down while trying to learn how to walk.
Again, I think there is a balance.. But I can say that I'd love to live a little more on the edge? I'd like to have a more child-like trust sometimes and perhaps even incorporate an adrenaline rush moment into each day. These are just thoughts right now but just for fun, what if my calendar looked like the following:
Mon: Jump off something so high it scares me
Tues: Call up an old friend who I haven't talked to in at least two years
Wed: Take my skateboard down the hill that no-one has ever not bailed on.
Thurs: Tell someone how much I appreciate them
Fri: Burn out in a parking lot and/or go skydiving- you only live once.
Sat: Vent my problems on a good friend
Sun: Just ask her out already (hypothetical)
Mon: Jump off something higher than last week
Some will say to look before you leap. Others will say that he who hesitates is lost. Where is the balance of foolishness and recklessness when it comes to risks? I don't know. But I hear that when old people were surveyed (for those who believe surveys), one of the biggest things they regretted not doing more in their lives was taking risks.
What might taking risks do for me?
- it might quench a stale and boring lifestyle
- it would probably break me outside of my comfort zone into realms of new possibilities
- It might help me make mistakes that I learn more from than I would have anyways otherwise.
- It could help me recognize the vitality and realness that life can be as I push limits.
- It might result in a Bill Gates Maneuver some day. Ha Ha, Caching!
How does this fit with God's intent for my life?
- will I shy from taking risks for fear that they are not in God's will?
- or will I embrace them, knowing that God is my strength in everything and, like a father to child, will pick me up if I fall down while trying to learn how to walk.
Again, I think there is a balance.. But I can say that I'd love to live a little more on the edge? I'd like to have a more child-like trust sometimes and perhaps even incorporate an adrenaline rush moment into each day. These are just thoughts right now but just for fun, what if my calendar looked like the following:
Mon: Jump off something so high it scares me
Tues: Call up an old friend who I haven't talked to in at least two years
Wed: Take my skateboard down the hill that no-one has ever not bailed on.
Thurs: Tell someone how much I appreciate them
Fri: Burn out in a parking lot and/or go skydiving- you only live once.
Sat: Vent my problems on a good friend
Sun: Just ask her out already (hypothetical)
Mon: Jump off something higher than last week
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
to "Get it!"
You know those times when you just "Get it"?
A decline to a half baked lifestyle can happen so subtly. I might call it "a removal to religion".
I think this has happened to me quite a bit over the last year- which I suppose is somewhat easy when one is in an environment that can appear so subsurface that you can forget that the big stuff is underneath the skin.
I guess I just want to say "GET IT!"
There's a big picture- I've got to grasp for it. Theres a lot I don't understand- I've want to admit it and grow through it. There is a life that is beyond - I've got to live it.
I'm not about throwing fundamental truths and wisdom out the window. I believe, however, that the big picture of What God is all about is so beyond our common idea of Religion.
I seem to have embarked on another adventure that is beyond what I can do. It is therefore rooted so much more in reliance, trust and love than in me trying to do something independently. It is an intense 2-way relationship and I love it!
So that's where I'm at. It's cool.
Where' you at?
A decline to a half baked lifestyle can happen so subtly. I might call it "a removal to religion".
I think this has happened to me quite a bit over the last year- which I suppose is somewhat easy when one is in an environment that can appear so subsurface that you can forget that the big stuff is underneath the skin.
I guess I just want to say "GET IT!"
There's a big picture- I've got to grasp for it. Theres a lot I don't understand- I've want to admit it and grow through it. There is a life that is beyond - I've got to live it.
I'm not about throwing fundamental truths and wisdom out the window. I believe, however, that the big picture of What God is all about is so beyond our common idea of Religion.
I seem to have embarked on another adventure that is beyond what I can do. It is therefore rooted so much more in reliance, trust and love than in me trying to do something independently. It is an intense 2-way relationship and I love it!
So that's where I'm at. It's cool.
Where' you at?
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