outWORD

bias

2012-02-05T19:21:00.001-05:00

I awoke at 7:41 am this past Saturday morning in order to attend a morning lecture on the subject of understanding incorporating the works of theologian Bernard Lonergan and philosopher Paul Ricoeur. Though I arrived with pretty low expectations and a medium chai latte, the morning proved to be a provocative one. I am going to be processing all that was brought up in the lecture/discussion for quite some time.  Let me just mention one thing here: in the melange of Dr. James Pambrun's remarks about encounter, cognitional operations, epistemology, the multiplicity of symbols, and narrative, he lobbed in a few short sentences about bias.

Basically, he suggested that while bias can be one of the obstacles that keeps us from being open, from learning, and from maturing, it can also be a good thing. A good bias orients us toward something to such a degree that we become committed to it, are more receptive to it, and give a great deal of attention to it. In some way, this leaning into something (or someone) makes us belong to each other.

This week Dean and I have been talking about orientation quite a bit. Where are we looking?  How are we positioning ourselves? What are we really trying to accomplish here? It is becoming clearer to me that often my goals are too small. I am task-oriented (forgive me).  This means that I can put a lot of energy into accomplishing a challenging task, but be left with very little to show for it in the grand scheme of things. And by grand scheme I mean noble goals such as developing and sharing important life skills, growing in maturity, and demonstrating godly character (love, patience, forgiveness, all that easy stuff).

I am teaching a course in Christian Spirituality this term. I love it because I love the subject (and the students are pretty cool, too).  During the course of the term, we are taking a brief look at 32 different figures throughout history in order to observe what Christian Spirituality (life by the Spirit) looks like. Fascinating stuff. The goal of the course is for students to develop an informed understanding of Christian Spirituality and be able to identify the values behind certain traditions. The goal is not for them to have a good time in class, not to think I am a cool teacher, not for them to get good grades, not even for me to come up with 13 awesome powerpoint presentations that mesmerise and astound. I could do all those things, but if the students have not come away with a good understanding of Christian Spirituality, then I have failed. I have become dis-oriented from my goal. I am not teaching; I am simply doing a few small tasks well, like making awesome powerpoint presentations.

Decisions are very much about orientation. Dean and I just planned a vacation. At first, my goal was to get away to a nice beach somewhere and not pay a lot of money for the privilege. But I realised that this goal was inadequate. It was not really about finding the best beach resort or the best deal or even getting a tan and drinking pina coladas. The goal (in the grand scheme of things) was for us to have a rest, a time for re-connection, a time to not only play, but to open ourselves more fully to God and to each other through a change of pace and letting go of burdens. We wanted to be healthier people in mind, body and spirit when we were done. Where we went became rather immaterial when I realized that, and the vacation plans fell into place very quickly because we were now looking at options that we would not have considered otherwise.

My bias still needs some work. Lately, I have been too biased toward doing the job right and getting the behaviour right.  That's basically working to rule (a tactict to get someone to capitulate to your demands). Not good.  Where I really want my bias to be is towards God's goodness and love. Yes, let me lean into the love of God, and then let me lovingly lean outward.

the photo: these trees on Mont Sourire are biased toward the sky.

eating with monastics

2012-01-30T15:01:00.001-05:00

This past weekend I was on a winter retreat with my faith community. There were 21 of us stuffed into a 4-bedroom chalet in the mountains. It was amazing to see how gracious and patient people were with each other. One person volunteered to sleep in the laundry room. Others offered to help out in the kitchen even if they were not scheduled to assist with cooking or cleaning. Our hosts welcomed us with huge smiles, hugs, and kisses. They silently served us in many ways: not only did they let us take over their chalet, but after a snowy night, we awoke to find that our cars had all been brushed off, ready for the trip home. I don't remember hearing any complaints over the weekend. We cooked together, we ate together, we went on a winter hike, we frolicked on the frozen lake, we drank tea by the fire, we played games, we had times of silence, we worshipped God together, and we prayed for each other.

Our last meal together was a variation of a monk meal. In a monastic community, meals are eaten in silence. Many times, someone reads an inspirational text while the group eats. One also has to be attentive to the needs of others, making sure that everyone has access to food and drink. The goal of the monastic meal is to help us to focus not just on our bodily needs, but to be attentive to nourishing our spirits and to be mindful of the needs of others around us. There are a few things that I notice every time I participate in a monk meal.

First, the noise of serving and eating a meal always surprises me. A monk meal is never truly silent. Today, I was thinking about music played in restaurants. I suppose that aside from creating a certain ambiance, it is meant to diminish the voices of people around you so that you feel you have some privacy. Maybe it is also meant to camouflage the noise of eating. Perhaps it mostly reveals how unsettling we find silence and what it might require of us.

Second, participating in a monk meal always makes me realize how far we fall short of selfless service and devotion. Meals have become very much about our own needs, our own consumption. How does one eat a meal to the glory of God? I don't exactly know, but I think the monk meal can give us some clues as to how we can re-prioritize our meal times to reflect our devotion to God, and with much more than a token prayer of thanks tossed in at the beginning.

Third, I always come away with a sense that I need to learn to listen better. I find it difficult to listen to someone read while I am eating. I suppose that is why I volunteer to do much of the reading when we have a monk meal. This last weekend, I read an article entitled, "The 7 Habits of People Who Place Radical Trust in God." To me, this article echoes much of what the monk meal is about: to help us get more in sync with the kingdom of God and less entangled in the values of our current culture. The 7 habits, according to Jennifer Fulwiler, are: 1) They accept suffering, 2) They accept the inevitability of death, 3) They have daily appointments with God, 4) In prayer, they listen more than they talk, 5) They limit distractions, 6) They submit their discernment to others, and 7) They offer the Lord their complete, unhesitating obedience. You can read the whole article by Jennifer Fulwiler here.

The word monk comes from the root monos which simply means "single." While in most cases it denotes an unmarried life, it also implies a single-minded devotion to Christ and Christ's community. Yes, let my devotion be single. And let me embrace the discipline of listening today. Speak Lord, I am listening.

the photo: some of our group at the lookout point of Mont Sourire.

loving the job (again)

2012-01-27T14:27:00.000-05:00

I was driving on the way to a church meeting last Sunday when I felt something strange - excitement!! It had been quite a while since I had felt anticipation in coming to a church meeting. Lately, it was usually a sense of obligation - a burden I had to carry, a task to accomplish. For me, Sundays include getting there early, setting up, making sure the powerpoint is assembled and the projector/computer working, often helping with worship music, sometimes giving the talk, praying, greeting visitors, and then packing up and locking up. Sigh of relief! Yes, I hate to admit it, but for the last little while, I have not looked forward to church gatherings.  So, when I felt a mini sparkler in my stomach last Sunday, it was a pleasant surprise.

The change actually began a week before that while I was giving a talk in the Sunday gathering. First, you should know that none of us are paid for pastoral work in our church group.  All leadership positions are voluntary, so anyone who speaks or leads the music or organises an event, does so in addition to their day job.  This means that we try to share the load and, as much as we can, do church together. People do help in many ways, but the speaking and set-up falls mostly to Dean and myself. I am always asking people if they want to take a turn, but not many jump at the chance. And without fully realizing it, I was starting to resent this.

Last week, while I was speaking to the assembled saints on the topic of accurate worship (see blogpost here), I believe that God spoke to me. Basically, he said, "Stop trying to give it away. This is what I have given you to do. Teach!" I knew it was true. This is my task - to try to bring clarity to the journey of faith and love and offer opportunites for others to learn and grow. It is meant to be a joyful responsibility, not a tiresome burden.  And I had been trying to shove it off on others just because I was weary.  In response to that still, small voice, I decided to change my attitude.  Yes, joyful responsibility, you are mine!

Sometimes I don't like working out. Sometimes I don't like studying. Sometimes I don't like writing. Sometimes I don't like reading (yes, it's true, especially if it is a rather dense philosophy text). But I do it (and keep doing it) because it is good for my body and mind and soul. As well, the result or goal is always so much greater than I see at present.  Yes, it is my joyful responsibility to develop the gifts I have been given and embrace the opportunities that come my way.  Of course there are days when I am tired, sick, brain-dead, overloaded, and a bit stressed out. Everyone has days like those. But those days should be the exception, not the general mood of my life. I can whine about the tasks in my life (ugh, not another workout! not another lesson to prepare!) or I can tackle them with joy, knowing that not only am I benefiting from the process, but I am serving others well by embracing the task.

I get to teach! I get to prepare lessons! I get to read a lot! I get to workout my body! I get to engage with students! I get to talk about Jesus to others! I get to pray for others! I get to set-up a room so that people have places to sit! I get to prepare presentations that help everyone access the material! I get to write about the things that matter to me! I am blessed with joyful responsibilities!

the photo: the picture on my calendar for the month of January, hanging right above my desk.

book review: Insurrection

2012-01-22T22:41:00.000-05:00

Insurrection by Peter Rollins. New York: Howard Books, 2011. 190 pages.

Before one even cracks open the cover of Peter Rollin's Insurrection, the reader is warned about the explosive nature of what is inside. Words like "incendiary," "controversial," and "radical" litter the back cover endorsements. The front cover promises that what is inside will not only take us to the edge of the cliff but push us off (according to Rob Bell)! Well, for all the hype, I found the book quite a bit tamer than promised, but perhaps that was the goal: to get readers to brace themselves for some strong words about Christianity and in so doing, become more receptive to what Rollins has to say.

The stated purpose of the book is to outline what a "radical expression of a faith beyond religion might look like and how it has the power to give birth to a radically new form of church, one with the power to renew, reform or even transcend the present constellation of conservative, liberal, evangelical, fundamentalist, and orthodox communities" (xiv). Rollins proposes what he calls "pyro-theology" which, I would venture to say, pretty much boils down to deconstruction.  The thing about deconstruction is that one can get so caught up in tearing things down that one is left with nothing but a big, empty, void. Rollins teeters on the edge of the chasm a few times, but in the end, manages to avoid falling in.

I will be right up front by mentioning that while I liked a lot of what Rollins has to say, a few things bothered me about this book. Rollins adopts an aggressive, provocative style of writing. I suppose he is attempting to shake the religious reader out of their religious stupor in order that they can embrace what he calls "religionless Christianity." This is a term he borrows from Dietrich Bonhoeffer (lovely chap and I admire him deeply), but I am always wary of people borrowing expensive terms (it would eventually cost Bonhoeffer his life) for their own purposes without paying the rent. Everyone loves to quote the saints, but who is willing to live the lives that produced these words of wisdom?

Honestly, I do believe Rollins would be up for it, but his language mimics a "shock and awe" style which, in my humble opinion, sabotages the message to some degree. Bonhoeffer himself admitted that his blustery early writings calling for church reform later mellowed to a certain extent when he was imprisoned.  This was evident in his gracious treatment of guards, fellow prisoners, and family members during his confinement. To me, Rollins seems to be in his blustery stage.  One example is his redefinition of the word "religion" to mean an anti-Christian system. I'm sorry, Peter, but that's bad etymology. To me, he is simply erecting a target in order to knock it down (straw man fallacy). Scriptural writers call for true or pure religion, not the eradication of religion (see 1 Timothy 5:4, James 1:27).

Anyway, enough of my complaints and on to what Rollins has done well in this book. First, I love the easy, readable style. He interjects pithy stories or parables into each chapter to illustrate his points. Very nicely done. The crucifixion and Jesus' cry of abandonment are a focal point from which he expounds his theme of giving up the "idol" of a convenient, comforting God (deus ex machina). Rollins calls this inadequate, self-serving image of God the "God of religion," and effectively and jarringly brings the scandal of the cross in direct conflict with this cozy image. In many places, we see hints of John of the Cross' dark night of the soul, though somewhat surprisingly, Rollins does not make reference to the reformer.

I have to mention Chapter Three's brilliant title:  "I'm Not Religious" and Other Religious Sayings. Made me laugh out loud. As the book progresses, Rollins writes convincingly about embracing crucifixion, losing our religion, and rejecting the system which props up our comfortable beliefs. He challenges the reader to approach the cross not as an objective critic, but as a participatory lover (75). One of the most dynamic chapters is the one that addresses the gap between beliefs and actions. Rollins states that "our practices do not fall short of our beliefs; they are our beliefs" (102). That made me stop and think. And think some more. When Rollins does finally come to the subject of the resurrection, he presents it not as the answer to the crucifixion, but as a lens through which the coldness and the darkness of the cross are truly felt (112). The resurrection lives in the midst of death (108).

This fixation on the crucifixion is reflective of Rollins' negative style (via negativa) which concentrates on describing what is not instead of what is or can be; while effective, it falters somewhat when it comes to actually telling us what "religionless Christianity" looks like. The closest he comes is to say that we find God through turning away from self-interest and losing ourselves in love (125). It seems that Rollins is still working out the practical implications of what it means to encounter God in this radical crucifixion way and thus has a tough time explaining it, but that's just my opinion.

While I think Rollins' largely deconstructionist approach could use a bit more development or maturity (couldn't we all?), I appreciate that he is not playing the role of a disinterested critic. In the "conversation" printed at the end of the book, he admits that while developing these concepts, he experienced resistance from himself. He says: "The idea that I need to radically interrogate the things that I hold dear and encounter my own brokenness, darkness, and vulnerability is terrifying...I speak first and foremost to myself" (188).

Brave words from a brave man. Insurrection is a book worth reading. The ideas in it are worth grappling with. The author, by his own admission, will be grappling right alongside you.

accurate worship

2012-01-17T23:30:00.001-05:00

I was reading an introduction to 1-2 Chronicles a few days ago and came across an interesting phrase: accurate worship. It seemed strangely out of place, yet I know Eugene (Peterson) meant to use exactly those words. So I did some thinking and reading and researching. Here are some thoughts that came out of that.

First, let's look at the word 'accurate.' I consulted with a few people who are well-versed in archery and came away with some good pointers on accuracy. First, orient yourself towards your target. Never let it out of your sight. Second, anchoring is very important. Be firmly grounded (solid stance) and find a point of reference which will help you to be consistent. Some people draw the bow back till it touches their cheek. Every time they aim, they then pull to the exact same spot -it helps them be consistent. This is called anchoring. Third, use a soft grip. Too much tension on the bow or too much tension in your body will pull you off target. A death grip on the bow (happens when you are trying really hard to get it right) makes your muscles contract and affects your accuracy. Hold the bow lightly, with a partially open hand, allowing it to rest naturally between two fingers. Be at ease.

Now a few words about 'worship.' Ronald Rolheiser talks about fire, desire, restlessness, longing, dissatisfaction, or an ache that each of us carry inside. This is the impetus for human beings to reach beyond what they know. What we do with this desire, Rolheiser says, is our spirituality. I would say that it could also refer to our worship. Rolheiser insists that all of us have a spirituality; we all do something with our longing for something greater than ourselves. I believe the same applies to worship: we are all worshippers. We all direct our life-energy somewhere.

When talking about accurate worship, there are two questions: 1) who or what are we worshipping (what is the target)? and 2) how well do we worship (how accurate are we)? If you know anything about the nation of Israel in the Old Testament, you know that they loved to worship. Most of the time, though, it was a bit of a shotgun/haphazard approach: they worshipped Jehovah but added in popular gods from the surrounding nations. Their worship was also known to include a wide variety of practices; they started with the directives from Moses and picked up a few other additional rituals along the way like temple prostitution (everybody was doing it). They added and dropped targets and changed practices at whim. It was worship, but it wasn't very accurate. God had given specific instructions to the people, letting them know what it looked like to be connected to him, to be in a covenant with Jehovah. Covenants need to be accurate and explicit in order to protect the sanctity of the relationship and by inference, both parties. Accuracy matters in these things.

Accurate worship, then, means that we choose only one target (Kierkegaard talks about willing 'one thing'). It means that we keep our eyes on that target and orient ourselves towards that target. It implies that we find some anchoring points and practice in order to become consistent. It requires that we find stability, yet not rigidity.

Rolheiser suggest 4 essentials for a healthy spiritual life (and I would add, for accurate worship): 1) private prayer and private morality (Jesus knew the value of a strong, private relationship with God which resulted in choosing what God chose), 2) social justice (compassion for others), 3) mellowness of heart and spirit (not being a worrier, not quick to anger, but exhibiting thankfulness and graciousness), and 4) community as a constitutive element of true worship (being committed to a group of people not only keeps us anchored, it keeps us real). I think those are pretty good places to start helping us focus our worship and develop some consistency.

We are all going to worship today. Who or what will it be? How accurate will it be?

the photo: outdoor ribbon installation I saw downtown this summer, with a few photo adjustments

Sources:
Ronald Rolheiser. The Holy Longing: The Search for a Christian Spirituality. Doubleday, 1999.
Eugene Peterson. Introduction to 1-2 Chronicles in The Message. NavPress, 2004.

how much does it cost?

2012-01-12T13:33:00.000-05:00

I am teaching a course on Christian Spirituality this term. The textbook I have chosen to use (Devotional Classics edited by Richard Foster) starts off with an introductory section that talks about the cost involved in living a life in accordance with the Spirit of Jesus. No easing into the subject for Foster, no gentle convincing or subtle sales job. He just puts it right out there at the front: being a following of Jesus takes a lot of courage. How much should spirituality cost me? Well, how much am I willing to pay?

C.S. Lewis reminds us that being a Christian is not like paying your taxes, where you give God what he is due and hope there is a little left over for yourself. He says: "The terrible thing, the almost impossible thing, is to hand over your whole self - all your wishes and precautions - to Christ. But it is far easier than what we are trying to do instead. For what we are trying to do is to remain what we call 'ourselves,' to keep personal happiness as our great aim in life, and yet at the same time be 'good.'" (9)

Philosopher Dallas Willard (another contributor to the book) likes to turn things around in order to make a point. He asks not how much learning to be like Jesus (discipleship) costs, but what it costs us if we don't do it: "Nondiscipleship costs abiding peace, a life penetrated throughout by love, faith that sees everything in the light of God's overriding governance for good, hopefulness that stands firm in the most discouraging of circumstances, power to do what is right and withstand the forces of evil." (16) He also prods us on by saying that if we are going to doubt our beliefs, then we must also be willing to doubt our doubts. That takes a lot of courage. Costly courage.

Yes, we are too easily swayed by our consumer attitudes and readily convinced by expert marketers that something of great value can be had for a very low cost. Not true. The cost of a rich and meaningful life that reaches beyond my little world involves sacrifice, love, and surrender. No other way to do it. Jesus help me. I have some big bills coming up.

Quotes from Devotional Classics, edited by Richard J. Foster and James Bryan Smith. HarperCollins, 2005.

the photo: the textbook and my wallet.

fresh start, anywhere, anytime

2012-01-06T13:30:00.000-05:00

It's a new year. It's a new day. It's a new life. It's a Michael Bublé song.

The dawn of a new year is often a time when people attempt a fresh start. I don't like to save up my fresh starts for January; I like to sprinkle them liberally throughout the year. In fact, each new day when I wake up is a fresh start. Though some of the tasks ahead of me may be similar to those I did the day before, and my location or situation in life may not have changed much, each never-lived-before moment is rife with possibilities for creativity, insight, kindness, learning, joy, and embracing new disciplines.  In fact, most days it seems to be a choice: do I surrender to sameness or revel in the birth of each moment with its accompanying challenges? I hope I chose birth.

In doing some research for a course, I came across two videos that have got me thinking. In fact, I believe they have done more than that: they have birthed something new in my thinking and hopefully, will translate into new actions as well. The first was the song, Be Thou My Vision, played by artist Roby Duke. I do not use the word 'performed' because it is clearly not a performance that he is giving. He does not want nor need applause. He spends time easing into the song by doing some improv warm-ups and talking to himself, which is definitely not the way to wow your audience; in fact, it seems disorienting. But instead of a performance, he gives himself. He is a masterful musician, but he is not interested in showing that off or receiving recognition for his talent. He just wants to play, whether it is at home in his living room or in the presence of hundreds of people. And he loves to play and sing, that is obvious.

Removing the aspect of performance (and it is perhaps telling that we find that so disorienting, even in a church setting) has given me access to the song like never before. The word 'vision' is a bright rainbow in my mind these days, reminding me of God's promise, even though I couldn't tell you exactly what that promise is. I know I will find out each day what that promise means. 'Vision' has been overused and abused by religious folk. For this reason, some people denounce vision altogether, but I believe they are talking more about someone's agenda than true vision. Vision is seeing, and we all need to see. I need to see. It gives me hope.  Thank you, Roby. In this video, I see the words come to life: Riches I need not nor man's empty praise. Thou my inheritance now and always...

The second video was a short clip of an interview with Dallas Willard. In it he talks about doubt. I am reading Peter Rollin's book, Insurrection. He believes doubt is necessary in a deconstructionist way to overcome the unhealthy 'God of religion' that we adopt for our own convenience. So, the subject has been on my mind. Willard's first sentence in the video interview is quite striking:  "If you're going to be a doubter, be sure to doubt your doubts as well as your beliefs." He goes on to say, "We are taught in our culture to think that a person who doubts is essentially smarter than a person who believes, but you can be as dumb as a cabbage and still say, 'Why?'" Now, I do recognise the value of asking questions and taking a hard, honest look at what we say we believe.  Often much of what we assume is true can be unexamined (Socrates says that 'the unexamined life is not worth living'). However, Willard makes a valid point that once we start deconstructing something, we must also be willing to deconstruct our deconstruction. If our beliefs can originate in inauthentic places, so can our doubts.  Thank you, Dallas. You have given me a grid for the value of doubt.  Let it not become a viscious circle, but lead to authentic, constructive, uncomplicated, purer faith that is neither self-serving nor convenient.

In case you are interested, here are the links to the two videos. These were instrumental in my fresh start this week.

Roby Duke, Be Thou My Vision

Dallas Willard interview

the photos: a sunflower I saw while walking in Montreal this fall. Sunflowers always splash brightness, joy, and wonder all over my world.

studying inside

2011-12-29T15:04:00.004-05:00

Yesterday I was tidying up the mounds of paper from my last semester and came across a forgotten note I had scribbled over a month ago. It was a reminder to check out an article by C.S. Lewis that one of my professors had mentioned. I googled the key phrase and Lewis' name, and came across a lucid piece of writing that addressed the issue I run into all the time when studying theology: is it better to study something from the inside (which makes one prone to bias and narrow thinking) or to look at it critically from the outside (which is more objective but lacks immediacy)?

This is an especially pertinent question for me right now because I will be teaching a course this term on Christian Spirituality. I want to invite students to investigate the people we are studying and to become invested in their lives to some extent. Yet I need them to engage in critical analysis and good research practices. Lewis, in his signature accessible and analogical manner, insists that we weave both approaches together, forging a learning method that acknowledges both the inside and outside aspects, or as he calls them, "looking along" and "looking at."

Here are a few quotes from the article:

It has been assumed without discussion that if you want the true account of religion you must go, not to religious people, but to anthropologists; that if you want the true account of sexual love you must go, not to lovers, but to psychologists; that if you want to understand some “ideology” (such as medieval chivalry or the nineteenth-century idea of a “gentleman”), you must listen not to those who lived inside it, but to sociologists.

A physiologist, for example, can study pain and find out that it “is” (whatever is means)

such and such neural events. But the word pain would have no meaning for him unless he had “been inside” by actually suffering. If he had never looked along pain he simply wouldn't know what he was looking at. The very subject for his inquiries from outside exists for him only because he has, at least once, been inside.

But it is perfectly easy to go on all your life giving explanations of religion, love, morality, honour, and the like, without having been inside any of them. And if you do that, you are simply playing with counters. You go on explaining a thing without knowing what it is. That is why a great deal of contemporary thought is, strictly speaking, thought about nothing - all the apparatus of thought busily working in a vacuum.

Lewis also addressed the fallacy that one can actually be totally subjective: ...you can step outside one experience only by stepping inside another. Therefore, if all inside experiences are misleading, we are always misled. The cerebral physiologist may say, if he chooses, that the mathematician's thought is “only” tiny physical movements of the grey matter. But then what about the cerebral physiologist's own thought at that very moment? A second physiologist, looking at it, could pronounce it also to be only tiny physical movements in the first physiologist's skull. Where is the rot to end? The answer is that we must never allow the rot to begin. We must, on pain of idiocy, deny from the very outset the idea that looking at is, by its own nature, intrinsically truer or better than looking along. One must look both along and at everything.

Lewis' example of studying suffering is beautiful and very appropriate. How can one really speak knowledgeably about pain unless one has been inside it? How can we purport to be experts on any subject that we have kept our distance from? I have always believed that I can only truly learn from or about a subject if I love it. If there is no love, I will put up barriers between us, and that will impede my learning. Yes, much can be learned by taking an objective look at something from an outside perspective. But this knowledge will always be incomplete without venturing inside, even if just for a moment. The word "incarnation" comes to mind.

Here is the C.S. Lewis article in its entirety: Meditation in a Toolshed

the photo: taken from a speeding car while driving through Manitoba one morning in December. Colorization effect added (because it reminded me of van Gogh).

'twas the night before...

2011-12-24T22:43:00.000-05:00

It is the night before Christmas.
I have the jitters.
Mid-torso butterflies,
spurts of adrenaline that make my heart beat faster.
I hold my breath without meaning to. 1......2.....3......4 (exhale)

I am 10.
I have hand-picked a small brown doll with eyes that shut when she sleeps
and wrapped it carefully in newspaper for my sister.
My fingertips are still inky from the exercise -
hiding the gift in smudged paper
in order to more splendidly reveal my timid, thoughtful attempt at generosity.
Will she love it as much as I want her to?
Will I have brought her joy
not only for a few moments
but for days and weeks to come?
I wait for her to pull open the grimy paper and get a peek inside. 1......2......3......4 (exhale)

Anticipation.
The knowledge that something is about to happen.
Something exciting
and definitely good
but unpredictable and maybe a teensy bit messy
because somehow it will change my world
in ways I can't quite imagine.
To become better than it was before, yes always better
but more complicated, too.
I am waiting for something to appear. 1......2......3......4 (exhale)

I was 10.
I remember knowing more about wholehearted giving than I do now:
more about anticipating without fear
more about receiving with joy and wonder
I remember unwavering belief that givers were good and dependable.
I remember caring for my gifts with tenderness:
eating with them
carrying them in my pockets
sleeping with them
dressing them in makeshift clothes
kissing them
because they belonged to me.
They were mine.
And I loved them.
I think even before I opened a single box or unwrapped a single present
I already loved them.
I was just waiting for them to appear. 1......2.......3......4 (exhale)

Jesus.
Humble Jesus.
In inky, smudgy, wrapping paper.
Waiting to appear.
Waiting to be recognised.
Will I love him as much as he wants me to?

the photo: a box of my favourite tea wrapped in newspaper.

things I want to learn...

2011-12-20T17:57:00.003-05:00

In the past few weeks, a few situations have arisen that have caused me to feel frustrated, to be annoyed, to be torn about which way to go. What this signals to me is that I have something to learn in these areas and the lessons are starting NOW! The wonderful part of all these hard lessons is that in the middle of them, some understanding, some teaching, and some helpful insights always come along. Kind of serendipitous how that always seems to happen when you need it. In case you are taking the same life lessons that I am in the middle of, let me share some of them with you.

1. WHEN TO SPEAK OR WRITE: I thought I knew how to write a paper, but I found myself in a bit of a rush with the last paper I had due this past term and made one big error: I started to write having only finished half of my research. The result was a messy conglomeration of 10 pages that wandered here and there, saying a bit of this and a bit of that, but not really saying anything coherently. Ugh. I realised that I needed to stop writing and took a day to go over all the sources I had not yet looked at, a day that I thought I really could not afford to take. But I did, and after that I was able to write much more quickly.  I had a clear idea of what I wanted to say, and was able to cut, paste, and edit the mess into a good introduction and first point. The Lesson:  always take time to listen, read, be informed, get the whole story before speaking or writing.  There is never NOT enough time to be thorough.

2. IN TIME: I get annoyed at people who are late. Not that I am never late myself, but I try to always be where I said I would be at the time I said I would be there. Walking in late, to me, is disrespectful and an indication that I believe my agenda is more important than anyone else's.  Being late is asking other people to be inconvenienced so that I need not be.  Faithfulness is a really big deal to me, and that's a good thing, but this annoyance is ungracious when it surfaces, and is an indication that there is something I need to learn here.  In general, I believe there is something that we as followers of Jesus don't get regarding time. For the most part, we simply adopt the values and attitudes of the culture around us and never think what it means to view time according to God.  While I was thinking about how we can go about aligning our times to God's times, one of my profs sent me the info for a new book coming out: Crafting a Rule of Life: An Invitation to Well-Ordered Way by Stephen Macchia.

Here is a paragraph describing the book: "All of us have an unwritten personal rule of life. We wake at certain times, get ready for our days in particular ways, use our free time for assorted purposes and practice rhythms of work, hobbies, and worship. There is already a rule in place that you are following. Isn’t it time to give up your unwritten rule and prayerfully write one that more closely matches the heartbeat of God?" Yes, please. I will be ordering this book. The Lesson: there IS a way to line our times up with the times and seasons of God. Teach me, O Lord.

3. HEY MATTE, CAN YOU???? I get frequent requests to help others out in various ways: it could be listening to someone tell me their problems, connecting with friends new and old, hosting house-guests, providing food or gifts or skills, or participating in a project.  For the most part, I am happy to assist. But lately, the requests have come thicker and my time and energy is thinner. Just when I was beginning to feel conflicted about not spending enough time with the people who come across my path, or being a good hostess, I came across this post by a fellow introvert. It helped me put things in perspective and realise that the small, hidden, private, pondering, silent things I do have a lot of value and should not necessarily be shuffled aside for the larger, more public demands. Here is the link to: 10 Myths About Introverts.   The one quote I really like is this: "A world without Introverts would be a world with few scientists, musicians, artists, poets, filmmakers, doctors, mathematicians, writers, and philosophers."  The Lesson: nourish my gifts/skills and take the time to develop them.  Invite people into my life as God directs me, and do not neglect the gift which God has placed in me. Through it, I can love and serve him and others best!

the photo: my new office where most of my research, pondering, and writing happens. Thanks to Dean for helping me set it up. I love it!

done!

2011-12-15T18:33:00.002-05:00

I finished writing the last of my essays for the term this afternoon at 1:30 pm. Somehow, it all got done. Yes, there were quite a few 12+ hour days of writing and research in the last week, days when my eyes were so tired that they stung. Perhaps I was forgetting to blink. Whatever the case, I am "off" for a few weeks. "Off" means that I read fiction instead of theology (except for 2 books I need to get a head start on for my next reading course), annoy Dean by hanging out with him ALL the time instead of hardly at all, go to some movies (I don't remember the last one we saw??), and stare out the window just because I can.

In case you are interested (but mostly because they are still really fresh in my mind), the two papers I just finished were called: "TheTask of Theology after Modernity: JohnD. Caputo on Reclaiming the Madness" and "APerspective on Narrative Theology: ItsPurpose, Particularity, and Centrality." I know! Very exciting! Here are some quotes. Unless cited, the words are my own.

The Madness Essay:

Regarding the madness of excess as found in the gospel of Jesus: What is mad about this type of excess is itssheer disregard for sustainability. Excessas a diversion is something that we are all familiar with, but as a way of lifewe identify it with foolishness and irresponsibility, bound to end indisaster. Worldly-wise people know thepitfalls associated with excessive behaviour. The assumption of sustainability is that we are working with limitedresources, but when it comes to the kingdom of God, concepts such as limitedresources and probable outcomes must be put aside to accommodate occasions oflavish generosity and possible impossibilities. If we look at excess as a way of interrupting the closed economics of aself-sufficient world, it becomes a descriptor of redemption and an invitationto hope and anticipation.

On deconstruction in theology: One of the prime purposes ofdeconstruction, according to Caputo, is to prepare the way for constructiverebuilding. This process, he proposes,begins with honesty: “If we could admit how bad things are, that would be thebeginning of something good, of a kind of radical honesty with ourselves. … Toconfess the wounded, fractured condition of our lives – that is who weare! And that would be the beginning ofwisdom in deconstruction, of something good.” (John D. Caputo, After the Death of God, 128) It is interesting to note that Caputo is verytaken with this notion of “good.” According to him, the declaration of the creator God in Genesis that “itis good” carries a promise, issues a verdict, and contains a contract (John D. Caputo, The Weakness of God, see specifically chapter 3, “The Beautiful Risk of Creation.”) Goodness is what this world is calledto. This goodness, this pursuit ofwholeness, is what the madness of Christianity must never forget. And perhaps the first step in responding toGod’s call to be “good” is to humbly and honestly admit that things are notgood.

The conclusion: Lowe puts his finger on the issuewhen he identifies the madness as not only a distinguishing mark, but awound. A brand, if you will. Something that cannot be removed. A constant, perhaps even painful reminderthat theology is not its own. IfChristianity, and by association, theology, is not marked by this madness thatis characteristic of the kingdom, then I would suggest that we have to someextent lost our way. As Lowe states,theology then “ceases to be a calling, becoming mere adornment.” (Walter Lowe, "Modern Theology," 618)

The Narrative Essay:

On whether narratives are universal or particular (is there one overarching story or many smaller stories?): In the matterof universality versus particularity, I would position the universal storyfirmly in the mind of God. By doing so,I am also placing it outside the realm of human understanding. My reasoning is that from our standpoint astemporal and limited human beings, we are not capable of comprehending auniversal story. Nevertheless, I concede(as an act of faith) that one does exist. I also acknowledge that we as human beings continue to search forcoherence in our existence, which is in essence grasping for a metanarrative.However, I believe that longing for a metanarrative should not be confused withfabricating one. We can only know inpart. The task of narrative theology,then, is to tell the particular stories that are part of the big story, and todo so with careful attention and compassion.

Regarding the complexity of Scripture: "One virtue of Scripture in all its complexity is its ability to convey both confidence in the meaning of the history into which we find ourselves thrown, and a humility that does not cut short the search for knowledge or lead to passive resignation in the face of the challenges we face, but nourishes both exigencies to know and to act more fully and authentically, despite all that we cannot know as long as we see through a mirror dimly." (Ashley, "Reading the Universe Story," 901)

On the openness of narrative: "Poetic metaphor and narrative rejoices inambiguity and the opening up of multiple meaning; doctrine will always seek toreduce to concepts the images and stories upon which it draws including thosewithin its own Scripture. Literatureemphasizes the playful freedom of imagination, while doctrine aims to create aconsistent and coherent system of thought, putting into concepts the wholenessof reality that imagination is feeling after." (Paul Fiddes, "Concept, Image and Story in Systematic Theology," 8-9)

The conclusion: Partof the beauty of narrative is its ability to absorb all types of charactersinto a deeper meaning. Though I firmlybelieve that the grand story can be fully appreciated and identified only bythe divine author, the authenticity of distinct narratives can be verifiedthrough common human experience and critical methods of interpretation. In this way, our particular, fragmentedstories become part of a larger whole, carrying hope and wholeness even whilethey are broken and incomplete in many ways. Narrative and metaphorical language are at the heart of how we interpretour human experience. Stories are how wefirst learn to understand ourselves and our world as children. However, story does not stand alone in therealm of meaning. It engages in activeand vibrant dialogue with other forms of knowledge and interpretation, always openand unfinished. Narrative theology donewell will not capture the story of God, but it should serve to draw us into God.

I love the largeness of thinking about God! Maybe I should teach a course on imaginative theology! Or just take a break for a few days. Enjoy!

the photo: taken on a trip back to Manitoba in 2006, played with the saturation of the blues today.

the little

2011-12-06T23:51:00.001-05:00

It is nearing the end of the term and I have finally finished all my classes and completed all my teaching assistant obligations. Phew! However, I still have two major papers to hand in and due to early vacation dates this year, I only have 9 days left to complete them. At this point, one of them is about half done and the other one is still in the embryo stage. These are 20-page research papers that need to reflect a doctoral level of knowledge of and engagement with the topics I have chosen. I am not a fast writer in the first place (it usually takes me at least an hour to write one of these blogs because the initial ideas are rough and require thoughtful editing and expansion), but the extra care with which I am writing these essays means that an already slow process is even slower. And around this time there are a lot of activities going on (parties), meetings that I have to plan and attend, not to mention Christmas preparations, and - oh yes - random house guests that contact me at the last minute and want to spend a few nights!

If I do the calculations, based on my current writing speed, it seems obvious that I will run out of days before I get all the words on paper. What do I do? Skip all the Christmas parties? Neglect friends and family and Christmas preparations? Work late into the night every night? Start drinking Red Bull? Panic?

This morning I was understandably feeling a bit overwhelmed about the amount of work to be completed in the next week and a half. The reading today was from 2 Kings 4. It is the story of a widow in debt. In such a great debt that they are threatening to come and take her children from her to sell them as slaves. She called Elisha the prophet of God to help her. He asks her, "What do you have?" She replies, "Nothing. I have nothing." Small pause. "Well, I have a little oil." So Elisha tells her to gather all the jars she can from friends and neighbours and start pouring. She does what he tells her to do and the oil just keeps coming until every last jar is full and then it stops. The money from selling all the oil was enough to pay her debts and support her family for the foreseeable future.

So the question is, "What do I have?" Well, I have a little bit of time. I have a little idea of what I want to say. I have a little research done. I have a little bit written. Lots of "littles." But that seems to be enough in God's economy. I will take what little I have and starting pouring it into my essays and not stop until the last page is done.

the photo: a little bit of olive oil I have in my cupboard.

book review: The Silent Years

2011-12-04T21:02:00.001-05:00

The Silent Years: Jesus from Birth to Beatitude by Alan Green. 154 pages. ebook version.

This book is advertised as a "progressive Christmas novel" and heralded by some learned readers (academics) as an "imaginative reconstruction" of the first thirty years of the life of Jesus of Nazareth. The author has concocted a tale told by Yeshua's uncle, Benaiah, by incorporating knowledge of the historical Mediterranean world (Green has a Ph.D. in History) and fusing this with loose interpretations of biblical passages.

I wanted to like the book. I really did.  Having read Anne Rice's inspiring, fictionalized accounts of the early life of Jesus (Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt and Christ the Lord: The Road to Cana), I was expecting more of the same: meticulous research, historical authenticity, believable narratives, insightful portrayal of biblical characters, and an invitation to lose oneself in a cohesive world imaginatively created by the author. It was not to be.

Just as a well-made garment does not draw attention to its seams, so a well-written book does not let its mechanics (whether they are brilliant or awkward) upstage the tale. While reading, I noticed a few typos, several grammatical errors, some inconsistent spelling of names (Maryam at times becomes Miryam), and some lack of consistency in the storyline. One example of this inconsistency is in regard to Yeshua's Nazirite vow which does not allow him to come in contact with the dead.  Yeshua helps bury some unfortunate crucified protestors without much comment from the author. However, Green writes in a huge outcry from the family when Yeshua wants to help prepare his recently deceased father for burial. Did I miss something? When I see small errors such as these, it alerts me that all might not be well.

While some might appreciate the "progressive" nature of recasting Jesus as a revolutionary, underground quasi-political leader who organized the first fishermen's collective in order to better distribute food and wealth, it fell flat for me. So much of the biblical narrative has been reworked that, in my opinion, it comes off as somewhat of a messy patchwork with no clear purpose. Timelines are adjusted, entire scenarios omitted, characters reinvented, events rewritten, and a lot of stories mashed together to form a reinterpreted motivation for Yeshua's life. I have no problem with Green doing all of this, but for what purpose?

Perhaps the most significant omission is the presence of divinity in the character of Yeshua. He is human like everyone else, has faults like his followers, and admits to thinking murderous thoughts. He undergoes a mystical experience with a mysterious Light which becomes his own point of transformation and serves as a model for others to imitate. In fact, he becomes the model human for others to emulate.

The question I kept asking myself as I read was this: "Why is Green writing this story?" My best guess is that he is trying to tell a first century story that will appeal to a 21st century audience. In contrast to Rice's books which immerse the reader in a carefully crafted world of another time and place, Green's book seems to snap back and forth between his version of the New Testament world and modern sensibilities. Mary Magdalene undergoes what appears to be a modern psychotherapy session of self-discovery. Yeshua institutes a centre which fights for women's rights and in one scene, he serves as a mediator in a counseling session between two disciples who don't get along. The language leans toward 21st century spirituality with the Light, the Music, and the inner voice becoming driving forces for his ministry.

Troublesome also are the extended monologues by Yeshua (41 pages) and Mary (21 pages) which prove to be cumbersome writing tools no doubt meant to deliver a lot of information to the reader in a short amount of time.  They pretty much defeat the first person voice the book began with.  Yeshua poses a question to his uncle in the middle of one of these lengthy speeches: "I've been going on for such a long time! Are you tired?" (92). I found myself replying Yes. Yes, I am.

Well, this review has turned out more negative than I meant it to be, so let me close with this. Some of the historical settings and backgrounds are interesting and informative. Thanks for those, Alan Green.

the photo:  paper clips in my office, only a few feet away from where I read the book on my computer.

it's a mad mad mad world (of theology)

2011-11-30T14:42:00.001-05:00

The mad dash for the end of term has begun. I have finished all my required readings and have jumped into research reading. One of my papers is on the madness of theology (the correlation seems more obvious to some of us than to others). Truly inspiring stuff, I am finding. Let me share a few quotes here:

Thereis a certain madness in Christianity – in a desert God who is jealous andpassionate, in a saviour who speaks in apocalyptic terms, in a life of sacrificiallove, in the scandal of particularity. In principle, a confessional theology should bear the mark of thismadness, but the mark or wound must constantly be renewed. - Walter Lowe, "Postmodern Theology" in The Oxford Handbook of Systematic Theology, 2007.

“In the Scriptures the odd phenomenaconstituting the ‘Kingdom of God’ are the offspring of the shock that isdelivered by the name of God to what is there called the ‘world,’ resulting inwhat I call a ‘sacred anarchy.’ Considerbut a sampling of its more salient features. In the Kingdom, the last are first and first are last, a strategicallyperverted system of privileging, so that the advantage is given not tobeautiful Athenian bodies that house a love of wisdom, but to lepers, deafmutes, the blind, epileptics, and the paralyzed. The favor of the Kingdom falls not on men ofpractical wisdom, of arête, ofexperts in phronesis, but on taxcollectors and prostitutes, who enjoy preferential treatment over the uprightand well behaved. In addition, in theKingdom the way to be arrayed with all the glory of God is to neither sow norreap but to behave like the lilies of the field.” - John D. Caputo, After the Death of God, 2007.

Perhaps to no one's surprise, I am utterly captivated by these notions of embracing sacred anarchy, hospitality in excess, and a certain chaos when dealing with the things of God. It just seems obvious to me that God should never make total sense or perhaps in more precise terms, be subject to human reason. I am most blessed if thinking about God and calling out to God and reaching out tenuously for a divine/human encounter always put me just a bit off-balance and leave me more mystified than before. It is a grand, wondrous place to be!

the photo: having fun with an orange.

shameless celebration

2011-11-23T22:08:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, I received my Master of Arts degree at the fall convocation of Concordia University. It was a fun day and a nice break from my ongoing doctoral studies and work. I love a good ceremony, especially one with a lot of colour, action, and some bagpipes! Plus, I got to wear a costume! Today it was back to work. I spent most of the day grading, took an hour or two to cram in some reading for tonight's class, spent a few hours discussing postliberalism and postmodernity with a prof and some grad students in my evening class, then came home to finish this week's grading. The tasks for the day are now done and it is 10:21 pm.

I know how to work. I can get things done. As a graduate student, the list of things that one must and should and could do are never-ending. It can easily overwhelm me if I am not careful. Working seems very responsible (that would be my Anabaptist roots talking). Celebration sometimes not so much. However, the God of the Hebrews insisted on celebration as part of the rhythm of life. And sometimes, it would go on longer than expected, as in the case of the week-long party after the temple was built that stretched on for another week because it was just sooo good and no one wanted to go home! (see I Kings 8)

I am happy to say that I am getting better at celebrating without shame. Without feeling a twinge of guilt about the work still undone. Without feeling slightly uncomfortable about extravagances given and received. Without diminishing the beauty and joy of a moment that is special to me and to others. Without shame or self-consciousness about being the centre of attention for a few seconds. Without feeling fat or old or tired or not as statuesque as the next person. Without entertaining worrying thoughts about the future. Without apology or justification.

Just celebration. Pure and simple. It's important to God. And it is becoming more important to me, too.

the photo: my personal photographer for the day, Awa, who understands celebration better than most, I dare say. Photo credit to Dean, who generously took the day off to be with me.

with

2011-11-17T11:52:00.001-05:00

I am nearing the end of the my first term as a PhD student. So far, so good. The reading load is a bit hectic (as it is supposed to be because doctoral students are expected to have cast iron brains that can digest large quantities of any sort of printed matter).  My job as a teaching assistant in the theatre department is demanding (3 hours in-class assistance and 8 hours of grading per week), but a nice break from the heavy thinking of theology. Plus, the theatre classroom is a friendly and invigorating environment (except on Halloween when Death sat in the 4th row and kinda freaked me out a bit).

Thus far, I have written 2 official reading reports, composed about 30 pages of notes on various readings, presented 6 summaries of readings, and taught a masters' class. I still have another reading report and 2 major papers to write (slightly panicking) on 1) the task of theology after modernism and 2) something about narrative theology. These last assignments need to happen in the next few weeks which means even more reading and then sitting at my computer trying to sort all the random bits of information into coherent, brilliant, never-been-written-before thoughts.

In the midst of all this, my connection with God has started to feel a bit thready. Like a pulse that is there, but not quite the consistent boom ba-boom that one wants to hear.  I think part of the reason for this is that I have neglected the primacy of "with." Having a lot of demands put on you intellectually means that you start to develop some competency and reach a certain comfort level with the various challenges and tasks tossed your way. That's good. As a result, I am not turning my thoughts to God as often to say "Help!" or "I need you!"  That's okay, too. But I never want to forget that all of these projects and writing assignments take on a whole other dimension and depth when I invite God to do them "with" me.  Or perhaps more accurately, he is the one inviting me to do them "with" him.

I often think of something one of my professors said in the first class I took when I started my graduate studies. She noted that the story of Genesis is different from all the other creation stories that were circulating in the pagan world at the time because it speaks of a God who wants to do projects "with" his creation, not just rule over them. And this is where I want to be more often: in the "withness," working together "with" Someone who always enlarges my experience and my work. He not only adds insight, but makes the journey less lonely, less overwhelming, more enjoyable, and always worthwhile. And on numerous occasions, he also inserts the opportunity for transformation if I will stop for a bit and let it in.

Every day, let my prayer be: God, can we do this day together?

the photo: some of the white fluffy seedlings behind my condo that will no doubt yield something next spring.

lesson from the microwave

2011-11-12T22:39:00.001-05:00

I was over at a friend's house yesterday and he was heating some apple cider in the microwave. I noticed that he did not use a cup, but a large plastic container with a thin layer of cider at the bottom. He commented that he had heard this method provided better heat distribution and therefore, heated the food faster. I cannot verify or deny this theory for microwaves, but I know it is true of cooking in general. Thin slabs of cookie dough will cook faster than thick mounds. Thick steaks take longer on the barbeque than thin ones. The more surface area one presents to the heat and the less dense the food is, the more efficient the change from raw to cooked, from cold to hot.

This concept started me thinking and strangely enough, the picture that came into my mind was that of someone lying prostrate on the floor in prayer, making themselves thin and spread out, not all bunched up and rigid. The more areas of my life I present to God and make available to him, the more I will be changed. The less dense and rigid I am, the quicker I can respond to the Spirit. The more of my life I get on the surface, the more his hot love can transform it.

Let me get down low, flat, humble. Let me present a large surface area for God to interact with me. Let me say yes to his blazing fire of tranforming love.

the photo: a latte at a local cafe.

choice

2011-11-09T11:51:00.000-05:00

I have some friends who are facing difficult seasons in their lives. One of them has a husband with cancer. Another has a wife with cancer. Two of my friends recently lost their jobs. These are all scenarios we would rather not find ourselves in. We would never choose them. And yet, there are people who do choose the hard way. A book I am currently reading about a nun who has mystical experiences tells about women in a convent who desire to share in Christ's sufferings. If you read the writings of faithful and godly people like St. John of the Cross, Teresa of Avila, and Julian of Norwich you will find this theme as well. They request pain and affliction in order to be closer to Jesus. We really have no concept of that in our comfort-driven, pain-avoiding culture. We do not consider it an honour to suffer.

I had a dream a few days ago in which I conversed with some of my friends who are in seasons of discomfort. We talked about the things that God chooses for us versus the things we choose for ourselves, and how the two are not always the same. I remember saying something similar to these words in the dream: "Whatever God chooses for you, embrace it. Let his choices for our lives become our choices in life. Then we are making space for something really significant to happen."

I don't want to fight against what God has chosen to bring into my life. He promised suffering. Why do I resist it? He promised challenges. Why do I cower in the face of them? He promised to always be with me. Why do I turn away from his nearness?

Today, let me choose what Jesus chooses.

the photo: several planes of images at St. Joseph's Oratory: reflected stained glass, ironwork, a glass door, and my hands.

free (for me)

2011-11-02T13:35:00.000-04:00

Who doesn't love free stuff? I love getting free samples of hair products, free tastings at a frozen yogurt bar, free admission to an art gallery, free rides, a free meal, free parks, a free t-shirt, free movies, free wifi, free rent for a month, and free healthcare. But is it really free? Free (for me) just means that someone else is picking up the tab.  It always costs someone something.

Those free tastings at the yogurt place are paid for by the store (and must be made up in the price of their product). Free admission to the art gallery and well-kept parks are paid for by taxes from the hard-working folks in the city and province (who incidentally get no say in how high their taxes are or exactly where the monies go). Free wifi is paid for by the subscriber who is generous enough to share their access. Free rent just means that someone else is paying the mortgage. A free ride means that the driver (or his company) is the one paying for the gas and vehicle maintenance. Free healthcare just means that our taxes are much higher, the companies we work for have to contribute their share, and everyone's pay cheques are a bit lower.  Free (for me) really means that I have escaped having to pay for something that has a real cost; I have made someone else responsible for it. And if I am always looking for free stuff and never willing to be the one paying for it...well, that's a problem. No healthy community or city or world can operate that way.

I am not trying to take the fun out of getting free stuff. Yes, gifts are meant to be given and received with joy, but it is naive and ignorant of me not to recognise that what is free for me is costing someone else something. I find that I appreciate "free stuff" more when I am aware of the cost involved for others. I become more grateful and less likely to overindulge or engage in a "free feeding frenzy."

Other things freely offered to us have significant cost, too. When someone invites me into their home, they are trusting me with their largest investment (and usually taking responsibility for refreshments and cleaning). When someone forgives a debt or a wrong, they have taken on the cost of my mistake.  When someone loves me, they give me their time, they share their resources, they show me themselves.

I enjoy a lot of "free stuff" in my life. May I never take the cost for granted.

We can understand someone dying for a person worth dying for, and we can understand how someone good and noble could inspire us to selfless sacrifice. But God put his love on the line for us by offering his Son in sacrificial death while we were of no use whatever to him. (Romans 5, The Message)

You have received freely, so freely give. (Matthew 10:8)

The photo: piano in a bistro in old Montreal. There was a basket for donations on the windowsill.

subsume

2011-10-28T18:13:00.003-04:00

We saw the band Mumford & Sons last night. A real treat! Those boys play hard, put everything they have into their music, graciously deal with each other, the audience, and their fellow musicians, and write some of the most insightful and profound songs I have heard in a long time.

I was one in a crowd of about 10,000 and we chose to buy general admission tickets on the floor instead of reserved seats further away. The great thing about general admission is that you can decide your location. The bad thing is that you have to get there early and stand for a few hours before the band plays. Also, as the floor fills up, you have to deal with all the people who start to infringe on the space you thought you had claimed for yourself. I am also not one of the tall people, so standing, general admission gigs are not ideal for me.

I positioned myself as best I could with Dean right behind me, but at the last minute a tall guy and his girlfriend parked themselves right in front of me. Despite their promise that they were just passing through on their way to a friend somewhere else in the crowd, they never moved from the spot. As things got more crowded, I had to deal with frizzy hair in my face, garbage on the floor, loud yelling on the left, more tall people squishing in on the right, a few unstable people falling/leaning over, and the smell of things being smoked. Sigh. It is all part of the concert experience.

But an interesting thing happened when the band finally took the stage. None of these minor irritations seemed to matter. I completely forgot about my tired feet. I have no idea what became of the frizzy hair that had disturbed my calm earlier. People leaned into me, shouted close to my ears, and raised their hands in my face, but none of it really registered. These things were all subsumed in the greater experience of enjoying the band as they lived in their music and invited us to live there for a few hours as well. Words wafted from the singer over us all and landed on my heart. I closed my eyes and listened to the call for hope coming from the sound system. For a short period of time last night, I was one with everyone in the room. I jumped and felt them jump with me. I applauded loudly at the end of each song. I joined in the singing when a familiar song was played. All eyes were not on each other nor our irritating situations - they were on the light, the movement, the passions, and the joy in front of us.

Let the minor irritations of my life always be subsumed into the greater song of life and beauty, truth and hope, love as it was meant to be.

The photo: Mumford & Sons playing in Montreal last night. Taken by thrusting my hand as high as it could go.

Here is one of the songs they played last night: Awake My Soul. Filmed in Reading, 2010.

tour guide

2011-10-24T14:23:00.002-04:00

We had some good friends from Tennessee visit us this past week. They were only here for a short time, so that meant some tough decisions had to be made. What did I want them to see in Montreal, remember about Montreal, know about Montreal, experience in Montreal? It was tempting to make a list of every significant sight to see and experience to be had and try to get through as many as possible, but I resisted. Instead, I wanted my friends to experience what I knew to be the richness of life in Montreal. This meant that we leisurely enjoyed the day, took time to eat desserts and drink yummy drinks, sauntered into small shops and wandered along the water, talked to strangers and took silly pictures, drove slowly along narrow streets, stood and marveled at beautiful structures and artwork, spent some time in contemplation at a religious site, enjoyed pleasant and meaningful conversation over dinner as savoury, Greek dishes appeared in succession at our table, and stood in the dark silence as we looked over the twinkling city from a vantage point on Mont Royal.

When introducing people to something I love, it is never a good idea to force my ideas and agenda on them or try to cover every important angle or even expect that their experience will be my experience. "Introducing" means that I help them connect. After that, they are free to explore and enjoy at their own pace and in their own way. In all my sauntering tours around Montreal with visitors over the years, I have always discover something new.

When introducing people to the God I love, it is never a good idea to force my ideas and agenda on them or try to cover every doctrine or even expect that their experience will be my experience. "Introducing" means that I help them connect. After that, they are free to explore and enjoy at their own pace and in their own way. In all my meandering discussions about God with friends and strangers over the years, I have always discovered something new.

Photos:
Top: Part of the mosaic at the front of the sanctuary in Saint Joseph's Oratory.
Middle: Cakes at La Crème de la Crème Café in Old Montreal.
Bottom: The lights of Montreal from the lookout in Westmount.

I don't want to be taller

2011-10-17T13:03:00.001-04:00

I don't own a pair of high heels. I did try to wear them for a bit back when I was doing my first degree, but after a few months of tottering about, I pulled them off my feet one frosty spring morning and walked barefoot back to my dorm room, never to embrace the style again.  Whenever I see women in heels (especially those spiky, skinny ones that are sure to get caught in a grate or sidewalk crack or street sewer cover), I wonder how they do it.  I know that some women claim that they can be comfortable, and fashion sense insists that heels make the female leg look great, but I am not convinced. I think my legs look great just as they are.  I don't need to be taller, either. I do need to be able to walk safely (and occasionally break into a run) without fear or fatigue. Silly me - I believe I can look good without 3-6 inches of scaffolding strapped to my foot.

Heels are not evil, don't get me wrong, but they speak to me of the not-so-subtle pressure out there to look or dress a certain way in order to be attractive. What it says most loudly to me is that we are not happy with who we are. We want to be taller, sexier, more shapely, have longer legs, blonder hair, flawless faces, longer lashes, redder lips, and bouncier hair. Where can I find a woman that is happy with who she is? And the age she is? Why do so many of us have 'downplaying our alleged figure faults' as the primary motivation when getting dressed? How many of us wear something because we feel fantastic in our bodies? I love looking good, but who decides what this "good" is?  I would not give that authority to the fashion industry - they are trying to sell us their goods and in order for them to do this, we have to feel we lack something.

In my opinion, a healthy and content person is beautiful.  They carry themselves with an air of confidence that needs no heels to bolster it. Love also makes people glow.  When my husband and my good friends tell me I am beautiful, I need to believe them.  They know the real me.  Yes, I usually wear make-up, colour my hair, and try to wear matching clothes, but there are times when I don't, and that's okay.  Some days the natural look is a refreshing change, and Dean would certainly agree with this.

I don't need to be taller - I need to stand taller, confident that God made something beautiful in me.
I don't need to be younger - I need to embrace the fullness of life I have now.
I don't need longer lashes - I need to see clearly the beauty all around me.
I don't need a flawless face - I need to smile at more people.
I don't need redder lips - I need words of kindness to grace my lips often.
I don't need longer legs - I need a willingness to walk in grace and goodness and humility.

In case you have not heard it yet today, "You look good!"

the photo: Dean and me at a wedding this past summer. No heels, but we both looked fine!

gleaning

2011-10-12T22:19:00.000-04:00

Dean has been talking about generous living lately. He is much better at it than I am. For one thing, he understands the concept of 'gleaning.' This is related to a farming practice in which the farmer deliberately leaves a bit of the harvest out on the field for folks down on their luck to 'glean' or pick up in order to feed their families.  You find it figuring prominently in the biblical story of Ruth. The basic principle is that we do not try to wring the last bit of value out of our resources, livelihoods, or transactions, but make sure we leave something behind for someone else. Dean compares it to the contemporary practice of tipping in a restaurant. Leave something behind - something good and substantial - not just leftovers that are hardly worth scraping off the ground.

Another place that I find myself thinking in terms of 'gleaning' is when I am selling or buying something that involves negotiation. I always try to leave the other person with a sense of dignity, a sense of being treated fairly and generously. My goal is not to score a great deal at the expense of another.  Instead, I aim for a situation where both parties feel they came away with a fair deal: win/win.  I know that I have often paid more than I really had to, but I think of the seller coming home to his family and saying, "Hey kids, today a lady paid me more money than usual for a pair of sunglasses, so ice cream for everyone!"  That possible scenario is worth more than a few dollars in my wallet.

Time is another area in which I try to leave room for 'gleaning.' This means that when I have a certain place to be at a certain time, I leave my home a few minutes early - enough time to spare so that I don't have to rush past a stranger asking for directions, or I can allow for a conversation with a friend I haven't seen in ages, or I can talk unhurriedly with the person behind the counter at the coffee shop.  Time is not mine to use to the last second; I need to leave some spaces in my day so that I can give time to others along the way.

Sharing is sometimes a challenge for me. I tend to buy only enough food for myself and don't always think to share my snacks or drinks.  I don't always like to give up my hard-won seat on the subway or let others go first in line, either, but I am learning. When I do think to share, the gratitude on the faces of the recipients reminds me how much giving a little bit of what I have can mean to someone else. Extra change, extra food, extra clothes, extra seats, extra tickets, extra time, extra space in my home, etc. It doesn't take much to leave some of my 'extra' for others.

I have certainly been the recipient of 'gleaning.' Let me be a happy and conscientious 'gleanee" as well.

The photo:  a squirrel on my balcony this past weekend enjoying a green tomato left in the pot after I cleaned up my plants.

the stages of a cold

2011-10-06T11:24:00.000-04:00

I have been living with a stupid, nasty cold for 10 days now. I suppose the fact that it is still partying in my body means that it is perhaps not so stupid and in fact pretty smart. But I still maintain that is it nasty! Whatever the case, over the course of the last week and a half I have observed a few different stages that I have gone through with this cold.

1. Denial. It is just a wee scratchy throat. It will probably be gone by morning. I'll just ignore it.
2. More Denial. It's been a few days and I am starting to cough, so I think that's a sign that it is almost over.  I am sure I will feel much better tomorrow. And besides, I can pretty much function as normal.
3. Impatience. Why is this taking so long? It's been a week and I should be feeling better! It is interfering with my life. (At this point I started asking for helpful suggestions to get rid of the thing).
4. Anger. Okay, that's it! I have had enough. This sucker is done! (I bought cough syrup and cold medicine and started stuffing it down my throat).
5. Disappointment. I can't sleep! I don't feel any better! Why isn't this medicine working? Everything is useless.
6. Make a plan. So the cold medicine is keeping me awake at night and not really helping. I'll forgo all the medicine and change my diet. No dairy products (which feed the phlegm) and no sugar (which feeds the bacterias and viruses). Just clear liquids, fruit, and vegetables.  And I'll go to bed earlier.
7. Small improvements.  I got good night's sleep! I am not coughing as much! I have a bit more stamina! Yes, things are getting better!
8. Gratitude.  This morning, I noticed myself rejoicing over small things that I take for granted much of the time. Things like being able to sleep through the night, having energy to do my work, a clear head and mind, being able to walk without pain, a loving husband who forgives me for coughing on him at night, a shower in the morning, a beautiful home, a sunny day, fresh tomatoes, a glass of orange juice, clothes to wear... (and the list goes on and on).

I have done my share of praying during this cold. I asked God to heal me, to help me sleep, to take away the cough, to clear my head.  I whined, I complained, and I pleaded.  When nothing much seemed to change, I was disappointed that my requests went pretty much unanswered. Why would God let me suffer this long without loving intervention? It seemed cruel. This morning, I realised that my goal of 'feeling good' is perhaps not the same goal that the Lover of my soul has in mind. He always seems more concerned with things like character, maturity, patience, gratitude, and other things that, if they are truly real and present, should not be affected by any amount of suffering or inconvenience. In our weak moments, we see where our strength really lies. I hope that my strength does not depend on everything going well in my life. That would be a pretty shallow and temporary strength.

One of my strengths is a grateful and trusting heart. Today, I am trying to grow and nourish it. That means that I am even thankful for this cold which has shown me how ungrateful I can be.

Photos: Top - cold paraphernalia. Bottom - flower blooming this morning on my back porch... so pretty!

day off

2011-10-03T14:47:00.000-04:00

Something I read awhile back has made me rethink my idea of what constitutes a 'day off.' Here is the quote from Douglas Steere: "A day off...is a bastard Sabbath." [1]  What he means is that a day off is not a legitimate sabbath. 'Not working' does not constitute what God had in mind when he initiated a day of rest. So what does it mean to keep a sabbath, and to keep it holy? Steere suggests that it is much more than a day of 'not doing.' It is a day of getting ourselves out of the way. Embracing silence, embracing prayer.

This quote of Steere's is taken from Eugene Peterson's book, The Pastor. Peterson goes on to describe how his interaction with Steere initiated a change in how he and his family took a day off during the week. "We deliberately separated ourselves from the workweek .. .and gave ourselves to being present to what God has done and is doing, this creation in which we have been set down and this salvation in which we have been invited to be participants in a God-revealed life of resurrection." [2].  For him and his wife, this meant a weekly ritual of sending the kids off to school, packing a simple lunch, and heading to a trailhead. They read a psalm and prayed, then walked in silence for the morning. Over lunch, they talked about anything and everything, but they especially paid attention to the week they had just lived through, the holy bits and the ordinary bits.  He states that it always turned out that they had missed a lot. "Each Sabbath became a day of remembering, becoming aware of where we were, who we were - the gifts of God for the people of God." [3].

Thinking about this concept of a 'day off' reminded me of something Bernard of Clairvaux talked about - the four loves. The first stage is where we love self for self's sake. This comes pretty easy and natural to most of us. We love and take care of ourselves first. The second degree is loving God for self's sake. Here we love God for what he can do for us, how he can improve our lives. The third stage is loving God for God's sake, and this is where true worship happens. The final degree is love of self for God's sake. This is a very difficult one, but it is where we truly see ourselves as God sees us, and we unite our wills with his.

As I was thinking about this, I realised that a typical 'day off' which consists of rest and play and perhaps some celebration is very much on the first level of self-indulgence. And much of my so-called 'holy activity' falls in the second category where I am looking for God to give me something or rejuvenate me. So much of the time we are only concerned with our own amusement and well-being. It is not a sabbath if it is centred solely around my own interests. What Peterson and Steere are talking about is a day where I forget about my desires and my work and set some time apart to pay attention to what God is doing in order to reorient my life according.  That is a true sabbath. Time set aside for God's pleasure. I get to participate in that.  What a privilege and wonder! Why don't I do it more often?

[1] Douglas Steere as quoted by Eugene Peterson in The Pastor. (New York: HarperOne, 2011), 220.
[2] Peterson, 220.
[3] Peterson, 221.

The photo: Me at the lake in St. Donat on a weekend away last year. Photo credit to Dean.

why soggy cereal reminds me of the cross

2011-09-27T15:14:00.002-04:00

Station 7 - Jesus falls a second time

I am one of those people that lets their breakfast cereal sit for awhile before I eat it. I like it soggy. I like the milk to infiltrate the squares, circles, flakes, clusters, and sticks and change their texture. I figure if I want it crunchy, I might as well eat it out of the box and drink a glass of milk as a chaser. I like to know that the milk has truly met the cereal and there is no turning back from the encounter.

Station 11 - Jesus is nailed to the cross

Station 10 - Jesus is stripped of his garments

We spent Sunday morning walking through the Way of the Cross garden at St. Joseph's Oratory with our faith community. I have done this walk many times before, but never at such a slow, meditative pace. It was a lot different than just hiking along the path, sightseeing.  We took our time. We stood and looked. We were silent. We gazed. We let the scenes affect us. We soaked up whatever each statue showed about Jesus' life. We let it sink in.  It was not a quick dip in the way of the cross that left us unchanged. The two substances (the journey of Jesus and our hearts) were given a chance to intermix, to take on each other's qualities, to become soggy oneness.

Sogginess, from which there is no turning back, takes time.  I have to sit with Jesus' life, words, and presence in order to give them time to infiltrate my tightly closed boxes, my circular thinking, my flaky selfishness, my tendency to never stray from the safe cluster, and my defensive stick-weapons.

Jesus is not a milk chaser to add to my life, hoping that he fills in the gaps but leaves everything else pretty much untouched and still crunchy.  Jesus will change my very substance. I will take on his substance. But only if I give him time.  Time to sink in.

Station 12 - Jesus dies on the cross

The photos: A few scenes from the Way of the Cross at St. Joseph's Oratory in Montreal that I took on Sunday.

schedules

2011-09-22T15:31:00.004-04:00

Things have been a bit hectic this last month as I dove head-first into doctoral studies. The first few weeks were filled with so many meetings and events and orientations and administrative 'stuff' that had to be completed that it left me feeling a bit tossed about and slightly nauseous. In the midst of all that hurricane activity on the sea of learning, I was given 4 days to complete a huuuuuuge funding application. I managed it, but I am not sure how brilliant and put-together it was. Now I am in the middle of two more very large applications and have a flurry of parties to attend on the weekend. This whirlwind of activity has brought me to face to face with the issue of schedules.

With Dean's help (and the Holy Spirit), I have now put one in place that should better manage all the classes, teaching responsibilities, reading, writing, and surprise tasks that are part of my workload, as well as leave space for living life as a normal human being who is an engaged member of a marriage, friendships, and a faith community.  Now I just have to be faithful to keep putting it into action!

The other schedule that was giving me a bit of trouble was my bus. I missed it a few times and it was annoying. The bus that runs through my neighbourhood is notorious for being a bit on the early side, but on one occasion when I missed it, I saw it roll past my window a full 6 minutes before it was due. How do you make that work for you? Sigh! Since my bus only comes every 30 minutes (except during peak times), missing it can make me quite late to wherever I am going.  I got in the habit of being at the bus stop 10 minutes early, just to make sure I would catch it, but honestly, I was getting a bit frustrated at how unpredictable it was - it was starting to damage my calm (as Jayne from Serenity would say).

About a week ago I had the brilliant idea of checking out the public transit website and looking at the bus schedule.  To my dismay and utter delight, I found a new, updated bus schedule with new times listed, which were (yes, you guessed it) adjusted 5 or 6 minutes here and there. Aha! So it wasn't the evil bus demon out to get me! I just had out-of-date information! Sometimes current and accurate information can be your best friend! This made me think about other places in my life that seem randomly filled with havoc and bad luck, and I wonder if I just haven't taken the time to get the information I need to make sense of it and to respond appropriately.

Last night in class we were discussing the concept of 'naive realism' (see Lonergan`s Method in Theology for an fuller explanation, p. 238-240).  This is basically when one supposes that seeing is knowing. A person bases judgments and decisions on knowledge gleaned from associations that have never been evaluated. One example is: because my father always did it this way, it is the right way. Or, because I saw it on television or read it in a book, it is true.  Or, because this has been the bus schedule like, forever, it is valid today. This is shortcut living - a method that children use to learn in their early years, and certainly useful for basic everyday tasks. But if extrapolated to the meaningful and larger issues of life, eventually it can breed a close-minded, one-track way of thinking that fails to see creative and innovative solutions and rejects valuable relationships or associations because they are outside of the norm.

Yes, it is difficult to make the effort to step outside of one's presuppositions and snap assumptions and take a long, hard look at familiar thoughts and contexts to see if they are indeed as airtight as I suppose. It takes courage, but I am living proof that more accurate, well-rounded information, processed in a thoughtful way, will be helpful to one's life in the long run.  And, you won't miss the bus as often!

The photo: St. Andrews, NB. This place always makes me forget about schedules of any kind.

the unbusy (fill in the blank)

2011-09-16T12:14:00.002-04:00

The only really not-so-good thing that happened on my vacation at the end of August was that I left the book I was reading, Eugene Peterson's The Pastor, on the plane when we landed in Winnipeg. I put in a claim with Air Canada as soon as I discovered my error, but when there was no word from them after a week, I realised that I might never see that particular book again. So I hoped that whoever found the volume might enjoy it, and I ordered it again. On Thursday, it appeared at my door.

Yesterday I finished the chapter I had just begun to read when I misplaced the book - chapter 35. If I was the legislating kind, I would insist that all pastors read this chapter. However, what Eugene says here about his own experience goes far beyond the pastor vocation. I think it speaks to all of us who find ourselves running non-stop in this demanding, busy, over-scheduled lifestyle, always feeling like we are a bit behind while never quite getting where we want to go.

Below is an adapted version of Eugene's mini-manifesto.  Finding himself overworked and frustrated as a pastor, he offered his resignation. Instead of accepting his decision, the elders (leadership team) asked him what he wanted to do differently. This is how he responded.  I have taken out his word, "pastor," so that you can insert your own descriptor/vocation.

I want to be a ______ who prays. I want to be reflective and responsive and relaxed in the presence of God so that I can be reflective and responsive and relaxed in your presence. I can't do that on the run. It takes a lot of time....

I want to be a ______ who reads and studies. This culture in which we live squeezes all the God sense out of us. I want to be observant and informed enough to help [you] understand what we are up against, the temptations of the devil to get us thinking we can all be our own gods. This is subtle stuff. It demands some detachment and perspective. I can't do this just by trying harder.

I want to be a ______ who has the time to be with you in leisurely, unhurried conversations so that I can understand and be a companion with you as you grow in Christ - your doubts and your difficulties, your desires and your delights. I can't do that when I am running scared.

I want to be a ______ who leads you in worship, a ______ who brings you before God in receptive obedience, a ______ who [makes] scripture accessible and present and alive, a ______ who is able to give you a language and imagination that restores in you a sense of dignity as a Christian in your homes and workplaces....

I want to have the time to read a story to [my daughter].
I want to be an unbusy ______.   (p. 278).

In order to pursue these desires, Eugene chose to give up the "running" of the church. Instead of a resignation, he opted for a re-organization. He entrusted administrative tasks to people who were perhaps less qualified than he was, but who were willing to learn. He had to learn to trust them, and he also had to learn to live with the decisions they made, even when they were not the same ones he would have made. But he realised that he couldn't have it both ways. He says: "If they let me be the pastor I wanted to be, I would have to let them be the elders they wanted to be." (p. 280).

Yes, it is a trade off. We can't have it all and be unbusy. We have to decide what we really want and let the rest of it go.  Yes, I want to be an unbusy student, an unbusy wife and friend, an unbusy teacher and writer. I want to be reflective and responsive, not running from one task to the next, hoping to strike a few things off my to-do list before more gets piled onto it.  I want to understand and discern and observe so that I can be part of informing and tranforming myself and others. I want to have leisurely, unhurried conversations that honour and respect the incredible worth of the people I am talking to. What do I need to let go of, to give away, in order to be an unbusy Matte?

Quotes are taken from Eugene Peterson, The Pastor: A Memoir. New York: HarperCollins, 2011.

The photo: Eugene's book amidst some of the reading I have to digest this term.

I lost something...

2011-09-13T23:01:00.000-04:00

Somewhere around 4 pm today, I lost something important.

'Something' is not really the right word, though.
Grace should never be reduced to a 'something.'
Neither should patience.
Or joy.
Or contentment.
These are all staple foods that my soul needs to survive.
Air that my spirit needs to breathe.
Peaceful, rejuvenating rest that my heart relies on.

Somewhere between several unexpected setbacks,
a discouraging reality check about my writing ability,
a lot of negative chatter around me,
and one too many meetings that I need to attend this week,
I lost the wind in my sails.
I lost my ability to be gracious.
I lost my equilibrium.
I lost my underlying sense of well-being.
I lost a thankful attitude.
I lost my trust in God's goodness.
I lost faith.
I lost my focus.
I became lost.

Jesus said: I came to find and restore the lost. (Luke 19:10)
Yes, please come and find me.

The photo: a fire truck coming to someone's rescue on a Montreal street.

why are we here?

2011-09-09T15:33:00.001-04:00

As someone who has been a faithful "church-goer" for all of her life, I realize that sometimes when I show up at a gathering of those who love and worship God, I have lost sight of why I am there. It has simply become habit and I feel guilt if I don't include it. I hesitate to even use the phrase "going to church" because it diminishes a vibrant, organic community into attendance at a meeting. We no more "go to church" than we "go to family." It is not a location nor an event - not even a classroom where attendance is taken, though I certainly hope we learn something when we come together. I am a part of Church if I am a part of Christ. It is that simple.  How I live that out is a whole other matter, however. Here are a few thoughts on why we gather in regular meetings. These ideas were first presented at a talk in a church in Manitoba this past Sunday.

1. To remember whom we belong to. In a previous post about my reluctance to visit a church gathering while on vacation (see my blog here), I recounted how my desire to skip a weekly meeting of people who love God because I would rather go to the beach reflected my ingratitude. I had lost sight of the fact that my entire life, including the pleasant vacation I was on, was all because of God's goodness.  My reluctance to set aside my own wishes for a few hours in order to honour this generous God reflected my forgetfulness in this area. I need to remind myself regularly that this is not my life to do with as I please. It is not my own efforts or goodness that keep the universe going or good things happening in my life. This is God's world. This is God's time. This is God's life. His goodness makes all of this possible (whatever my "this" is at the moment). Coming to a faith gathering (church) is a place to get a holy perspective and remind ourselves that it all begins and ends with God. My story becomes swallowed up in his story. I remember that he is the initiator of this love story and I am the responder. And I want to be a great responder to the love and grace of God in my life. So I start by making space to remember whom I belong to.

2. To build community. Community simply means that we do this together with others and we hold certain things in common. The interesting and challenging thing about families is that we don't get to choose them. They are pre-selected and very often, we find this selection not quite to our liking. Family members sometimes annoy us; we have to share and take turns; we have to learn to prefer one another; we have to manage our anger; we have to learn to be patient. When we belong to a family, we can't pick up our toys and go home when we get tired of the company - we ARE home! In the same way, we do not get to pick and choose our faith community. God picks the ones he places around us, and he almost always picks people we would not have chosen. We prefer those who look and think and act like we do - easy relationships. God picks those who poke at our irritations, who expose our weaknesses, and who need more help than we can give. A perfect community (or family) is not built by surrounding ourselves with perfect people, but by letting God perfect his love, his grace, and his kingdom in us. This is what wholeness is all about. As Church, we are united in Christ, and if this is not strong enough to keep us committed to each other, then we need to take a good look at what we have substituted as our bonding agent.

3. To be healed and made whole; spiritual maturity. I put this point last because in my opinion, it is really a by-product of the first two. Sometimes spiritual maturity or personal healing can be the main reason that we come to a faith community, and it is not a bad place to start, but it is a rather small and self-absorbed place to remain. Early on, I should recognize that Church is not a gift for me to exploit and use for my own self-improvement.  We as Church are here to offer ourselves daily and weekly to God because of the goodness that is already present in our lives.

On a good day, these are the reasons why I show up at a gathering of those who love God.  On a bad day, I show up because I need to be reminded of them.

The photo: The Winkler airport on a summer evening in September. One of those evenings you just can't take your eyes off the changing sky.

weak + strong

2011-09-06T18:56:00.002-04:00

I am back at home after 8 days of vacation in Manitoba with family. It was a great change of pace. I wouldn't call it a time of rest, exactly, because there was a lot of activity happening (family events and outings almost every day) and I also spoke at church meetings twice.  It is always a privilege to address a group of people gathered together to engage with God and with each other, but it also requires a lot of thought and effort on my part. And it should. Being in the position of a teacher is one of the greatest burdens and highest joys I know.

Just over a week ago I spoke at a church in Ottawa. I was still recovering from a bad case of food poisoning and due to this, considered cancelling the engagement or passing the task on to Dean. But when I took the time to listen to God, it became clear that he loves my weakness - that place where I realize I must depend totally on him for strength.  Here are a few thoughts from that talk in Ottawa which I entitled: Unscrambling My Ministry.

The term "my ministry" often leaves us puzzled. What exactly is it? Do I really have one? What am I supposed to do to serve the church? Ministry simply means "a person or agent through whom something is accomplished."  If I were to explain it, I would say that "my ministry" is actually the ministry of Jesus (doing what he initiates) that I do through Jesus (relying on his strength) for Jesus (serving and loving him in all I do).

In my experience, I have found that there is a winning combination (not in the sense that I win anything, really, but you know what I mean) that positions me closer to the ministry of Jesus. This happens when a few key elements come together.

1. The first one is when my love and compassion exceed my capacity to deliver on them. When I open my heart to God and to the world around me, I often feel moved to help someone, or find myself filled with love for someone. At the same time, I am lost as to what to do about it practically. This gift of love or compassion means that I am in some small way recognizing and receiving the rich love and grace of God present all around me. I have opened my heart. I have opened my hands. I am no longer keeping people at a distance, afraid of getting hurt. I am joining myself with God's desire and Jesus' prayer to be one with those around me. But what do I do about it?

2. The second element is to join this compassion with the weakness always present in me. It is embracing humility. I felt ill-equipped to speak to the people in the church in Ottawa, but my desire to give them a gift and to bless them outweighed my desire to impress them with my oratory skills. I decided to let my weakness be the place where God could show himself stronger and more capable than anything I could come up with. Humility. Honesty. Honour. My responsibility was not to give them the greatest sermon ever, but to honour God and be present generously with them. In fact, the times I stumbled over my words and lost my train of thought illustrated that without the generous spirit of Jesus, there was not much I had to offer. Will I rely on God to bring what I lack? Can I bring what little I have and let my weakness show? Can I put myself out there with my limited love and trust that God will make something out of it? Yes, I have to risk this. Over and over, I must put myself in this vulnerable position.

3. The "my" part of ministry is simply the time and place and space that I dwell in. No one else can occupy my space on this earth - physically, intellectually, emotionally. Only I can be present to all the situations and relationships that I live through.  This is uniquely my ministry, my place to serve, to love, and to accomplish what Jesus has initiated. No one else can take this place, so no matter how inadequate or under-prepared I feel, my weak attempts to love others and serve Jesus in my work, my home, my school, my comings and goings, my hobbies, and my neighbourhood are better than the void that would be left if I did nothing. What am I already doing? Where is Jesus present in this?

Weakness is not a limitation nor an excuse to get out of ministry. It is the place where my ministry meets Jesus' ministry, and I get to exchange my fear and inadequacy for his strength and ability. Listen to what Paul has to say about it:

...so I wouldn't get a big head, Iwas given the gift of a handicap to keep me in constant touch with mylimitations. Satan's angel did his best to get me down; what he in fact did waspush me to my knees. No danger then of walking around high and mighty! At firstI didn't think of it as a gift, and begged God to remove it. Three times I didthat, and then he told me,
My grace is enough; it's all you need.
My strength comes into its own in your weakness.
Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen. I quit focusing on the handicapand began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ's strength moving inon my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, theselimitations that cut me down to size—abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks.I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become. (2 Corinthians 12:7-10, The Message).

The photo: Taken at the picnic we had with the group in Ottawa on Sunday afternoon: here is one person from Montreal and one from Ottawa sharing a moment.

No secret

2011-09-01T13:29:00.001-04:00

Dean and I celebrated 25 years of marriage yesterday. We spent the day doing things that we love. I requested a trip to the zoo. Dean wanted to go to the planetarium. And we ended the evening with a ride in a limo to a nice Italian restaurant in the exchange district of Winnipeg. A great, fun day!

What is the secret of a good marriage? Let me offer a few ideas on the subject.

1. There is no secret. It is a lot of love, mutual submission, commitment, and honesty in the same direction. And there can be no secrets between you.

2. Be good friends. In fact, be great friends! Passion comes and goes (especially in stressful or busy times) but friends can always enjoy a good laugh or commiserate over a drink.

3. Don't expect a fairy tale. Dirty clothes will end up on the floor. Bodily emissions will happen (some don't smell all that great). These are all part of a shared life. Enjoy the intimacy they reveal.

4. Always honour the other person. When you find yourself complaining about the other, stop. It doesn't lead anywhere good. Communicate instead. Don't offer private or embarrassing information about the other, not even for a laugh.

5. Affirm the things you want to grow: affection, compassion, spontaneous expressions of love, and preferring one other. Starve the things that drive a wedge between you: resentment, complaints, jealousy, perfectionism, silence, avoidance, etc.

6. Go on regular dates. Sit close. Kiss. Talk over drinks. Hold hands. Exchange glances across a crowded room. Never forget to say those words which we never tire of hearing: I love you, you are beautiful, I like being with you, you are so good at ...

Dean is pretty much the best thing that ever happened to me. And he keeps happening every day!!

Photo: the lion and lioness at the zoo. Great apart. Even better together.

- Posted using BlogPress fromove my iPhone

Skipping town

2011-08-30T23:57:00.001-04:00

Vacation Monday. Sunshine. Walking. Family dinner. Tired.

Vacation Tuesday. Setting up my office in the sunroom. Playing in the pool. Family dinner. Skipping down the sidewalk with my niece. Tired.

Playing can be more tiring than work. I don't know if this means I am doing it wrong or just need to get in better play-shape. Perhaps it means we really are in need of a rest. Taking a day off is not the same as a sabbath, I am finding out.

Photo: This is a row of scooters I saw on our walk in downtown Winnipeg.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Out, out!

2011-08-26T16:36:00.001-04:00

I was attacked by a nasty bout of food poisoning this week. Once your body senses that there are evil toxins in the belly and kicks into eject mode, there is just nothing you can do to stop the process. I won't turn your stomach with the details.... well, maybe just a few of them. I have to admit that some of the them were kind of funny.

The first wave of nausea hit while I was sitting in a meeting on Wednesday evening. After a few trips to the bathroom it became clear that staying in the meeting was not an option. Since I was there with Dean, I couldn't leave, so I dragged myself out to the car and lay down in the back seat. By this time I was throwing up every half hour. When the urge came, I would open the car door and grace the street with my stomach's rejects.

We were parked in a residential neighbourhood which meant that every so often people would pass by walking their dogs. It was uncanny how often my stomach's upheaval coincided with the dog walkers. I tried to delay things so as not to scare the humans and the canines, but once I had to crawl/dash into nearby bushes in order to preserve everyone's dignity.

On the drive home, Dean had to pull over once to accommodate my ejections and he managed to find a spot just after we passed a police car on patrol and before we had to get on the freeway.

Today (44 hours later) I am a few pounds lighter, on my second jug of Gatorade, and thrilled to be able to sit up for a few hours at a time.

The body is a marvel to me at times like this. When threatened, it jumps into action immediately and commandeers whatever resources it needs to get the job done. It forces itself to do really unpleasant things because it knows this will potentially save your life. Would that we were all so sensitive to poisons that threaten our bodies, souls, spirits, and communities.

The photo: at a restaurant with friends on Sunday.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Fast worship

2011-08-24T09:04:00.001-04:00

Yesterday Dean and I went to see a film called Senna, a documentary about the legendary race car driver from Brazil. Quite a fascinating and moving story. Of course, filmmakers choose what bits of someone's life to showcase and what parts to leave out, but the overall sense was that we were seeing the man not only as a great racer, but as a man who had one passion and a remarkable instinct for it.

He spoke freely about God, read his bible regularly, was referred to as a humble man by his colleagues, and obviously loved his family and his country. The racing world was not always kind to him, yet he showed great restraint in how he dealt with those in his profession.

After he won one of his first Grand prix races, he recounted that near the finish line, he went into a kind of otherworldly zone. He felt the presence of God, a sense of peace. Dean leaned over to me halfway through the movie and said, "This was worship for him." And yes, in some ways it reminded me of Olympic runner Eric Liddell who said that he felt the pleasure of God when he ran.

The intersection of doing something we love, something we have a talent for, something that requires us to give all we are capable of and then some more, and the humble acknowledgment of our need for God in that very place - this is where the presence of God can often be found.

It made me look at my own life and wonder, what is that place for me? Where I have a desire to do well, a genuine instinct for something, where I bring everything I have to the table because nothing less will do. And most importantly, where I feel God's nearness and his pleasure. In this place, I am offering myself to him, I am receiving and giving a gift at the same time. I am a worshipper.

The photo: athletes hard at work at my university. Worship practice?

Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

6 words

2011-08-22T20:02:00.006-04:00

Today all the students in the course I am helping to teach presented mini-lessons. I got to learn about everything from the definition of 'play' to wireless sensor networks. I even participated in a Portuguese language lesson. But my favourite lesson of the day was the one from an English Literature major. She presented a short lesson on the six-word story.

Ernest Hemingway, who is known for his understatement and economy with words, was once challenged to write a story in six words (perhaps as a bar bet) and came up with this masterpiece. For sale: baby shoes, never worn. He is said to have called it his best work. It is amazing how much can be said in six words. In this morning's class, we had a chance to try our hands at this concise form of writing. I will show you my results at the end, but first, here are a few more examples for your enjoyment. Some are from famous authors and some are not.

Gown removed carelessly. Head, less so. - Joss Whedon

Wasted day. Wasted life. Dessert, please. - Frank Miller

We kissed. She melted. Mop please! - James Patrick Kelly

Kirby had never eaten toes before. - Kevin Smith

K.I.A. Baghdad, Aged 18 - Closed Casket. - Richard K. Morgan

Thought I was right. I wasn't. - Graeme Gibson

Will this do (lazy writer asked)? - Ken MacLeod

In the beginning was the word. - John

Finding Nemo. Grilling Nemo. Eating Nemo. - Amy

Lost my wallet, found my desires. - Devendra Surolia

Through mud, under bullets, found freedom. - Conrad Panganiban

Six words. Longer than some lifetimes. - Matte

Don't touch that button. It will -- - Matte

Go ahead and try it! Post your 6 word story as a comment if you like!

Photo: Man, car, ocean. Need nothing more.

Naming

2011-08-19T18:35:00.002-04:00

A friend came over last weekend and we started talking about the different types of people in our lives. There are lovers, friends, acquaintances, partners, colleagues, bosses, church people, school friends, and the list goes on and on.

Her question to me was this: why do we need to categorize them? Why must my interactions fall within a previously defined parameter? Why can't I let each relationship grow and flower in an organic way as each person brings something to the mix? Why must I slot each interaction into a formula or category I am familiar with?

Can you be a lover without physical intimacy? The monks would say, yes, definitely. Can you be a friend to someone you don't know? Yes, compassion and kindness don't have a minimum interaction quota. I think we do others and ourselves a disservice by boxing them into certain accepted ways of relating. And probably the person we are most guilty of doing this with is God.

Lord, deliver me from my desire to name, categorize, and thereby, limit.

This is a photo I took on the university shuttle bus. You can see the plastic blue seat and the matching upholstery in the forefront and my feet slightly out of focus on the floor. An odd combination, but very right at the time.

On the move

2011-08-18T09:07:00.002-04:00

I am on the bus. Bus 51 in Montreal to be exact. On the morning commute to a teaching assistant job that I am doing for a week-long intensive course. 7 hours of teaching a day is loooooooong. But also extremely rewarding.

I love eager faces on the first day - the excitement about learning something new shining through the apprehensiveness about what is ahead. And I love the bright moments along the way: missing a bus yesterday and still getting there early! Two cello players in the metro today, playing with so much zest and verve that I had to stop and breathe the life in.

Good, long days. Intense days. Learning days. Precious days. I feel for those people who work long days at jobs they don't love with people that are not encouragers. Lord, grace to those on this bus who are weary and heavy-burdened.

Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

what I can't write about

2011-08-12T15:57:00.005-04:00

Sometimes I think of a cool idea for something to write about here and then realise that it probably isn't such a great idea after all. The two most prominent reasons that happenings in my life, despite being interesting and meaningful, don't appear on my blog is 1. some of them are too personal (I do have some sense of propriety), and 2) they involve other people.

My blog is often read by people that I contact in a professional or scholarly setting. Since this website is easy to find when you google my name (and the link is often at the bottom of my email), these people sometimes read it to find out who they are talking to and get a sense of who I am. For that reason, I try to avoid overly personal details. I won't be writing about how sweaty and tired I am right now after an hour-long walk to the store and back - and they didn't even have my item available! I won't be telling the world that I occasionally suffer from irregularity or that yesterday a waiter flirted with me. That's just too much information.

The other thing I can't write about a lot is other people. I used do a bit more of this, because honestly, most of my life lessons come through contact with others. Challenging relationships and interactions make up most of my inspirational and character-building moments. But I don't want to show anyone in a bad light, nor write something about a person that they would rather not have up on a public forum, even though I never identify them. So I won't tell you about the person I struggle to love because we just seem to see the world so differently, or the relationships I hoped would flourish into deep friendships but seem to have stalled (sigh), or all the ways in which Dean loves me and on occasion, frustrates me (lets just say there is a dishwasher involved). That's just wouldn't be kind or considerate.

I cannot write about any one's life here except my own. I cannot live another's life, either. Sometimes I have tried to give advice, offered unsolicited wisdom (I thought it was wise at the time), but that never really turned out well. Though it strikes me as self-indulgent at times, my own life is pretty much the only material I have at my disposal. And if I don't do something with that, if I don't learn from it, if I don't pay attention and see what is going on there, and if I don't share the process with others, then it is a bit of a waste. At least I think so.

So, to all the people that have been and are part of my learning and loving journey: thank you for being there through the good, the bad, the ugly, and the still-being-worked-on. You will probably never read about it here, but I am constantly aware of the gang of great, funny, silly, loving, sometimes hurtful, sometimes challenging, occasionally annoying, and many times heart-bustingly generous people that walk through my life. I need you.

This is a photo that Dean took at the Ernest Hemingway house in Key West, Florida. A group of people gathered for just that one second and none of us at our photographic best! That's just the way it is sometimes.

why does this keep happening to me?

2011-08-04T11:22:00.009-04:00

I try to pay attention to patterns that happen in life. I think there is something to learn from them.

There are positive patterns. When I consistently do well in my courses and hear good comments from professors, I think that perhaps I am not only a good learner, but have the potential to be a good teacher. When I get a spurt of energy and a sense of strength after a workout, I know that this is doing my body good.

There are also negative patterns. When I eat a huge bowl of cherries and my stomach starts to rumble in complaint, I remember that this happens anytime I eat large quantities of fruit and maybe I should learn to pace myself. When I speak bluntly to someone about what they have done wrong and their face falls with dejection, I realize that this is probably not the best way to help someone improve.

And then there are patterns that make me feel like the world is out to get me. Perhaps these are the hardest patterns to deal with because there seems to be no rhyme or reason to them. In these patterns, annoying and hurtful things seem to follow one around, seemingly without cause, and "bad luck" appears to be the only way to explain it. I have a theory about these so-called bad luck patterns. These patterns reveal areas of our lives that are unhealed or lack maturity. For those of us who have signed up for spiritual reformation (by saying yes to the work of the Spirit in our lives), these character-challenging bad luck patterns can almost undo us. But it only makes sense that when we ask God to change us, heal us, mature us, and help us be more like Jesus, we would get the opportunity to do just that. In truth, often times it feels like picking at a scab, poking a bruise, or getting kicked when we are down instead of a pathway to healing. But it IS a way to healing, real healing. And maturity.

As an example: for some reason, really bad, erratic, or slow drivers always seem to find their way right in front of Dean, especially when he is in a hurry to get somewhere. It is uncanny. It frustrates him and understandably so. But it is my belief that this pattern is not random (though we do have our fair share of under-performing drivers in this city). I see that he is being given opportunity after opportunity to develop patience and graciousness towards others who are perhaps not as competent or confident as he is. The challenge is to respond well to these repeating situations instead of getting even more annoyed.

My particular pattern of annoyance is when people opt out or drop the ball. I hate it when people say they will do something or be somewhere and then never show or change their minds at the last minute. I hate it when people say they will call you or say they really want to get together and they never do. I really dislike it when I send out an email that requires a response and hardly anyone bothers to reply. Every time this pattern happens in my life (and it happens much more than I can comfortably handle with grace), I am angered by the utter lack of regard that people seem to have for others. Internally, I rage at their lack of commitment, their self-absorption, and the absence of faithfulness and basic courtesy. I have only lately come to realise that my reaction is usually bigger than the situations merit, and that this pattern will continue to happen in my life until I let some healing come into it. To be honest, it may continue to happen after I mature and get past my neglect and perfectionist issues (living with other flawed humans most certainly guarantees that it will), but these incidents will no longer be able to steal my peace and sense of well-being.

Certainly, people need to mature in their depth of commitment, their awareness of how their actions affect others, and the ability to be faithful. In fact, Dean wonders if a lack of commitment is the sin of our age - I think he might be onto something - but that is not primarily what I am talking about here. The task before me is to graciously and lovingly deal with rejection, disregard, rudeness, unfaithfulness, and thoughtlessness. And that's pretty much impossible, if you ask me.

However, with God, nothing is impossible. The class of mercy is still in session.

This is a photo of a lifeguard tower on Miami Beach. I wish that the beach was something that kept happening to me a little more often.

some thoughts on fruit

2011-08-01T18:27:00.007-04:00

I love fruit. It is pretty much my favourite food group. Not only does it look great (much more colourful than steak or sausage), it is juicy and sweet and good for you! This spring, I decided to try growing a few plants on my balcony. Not only did I do the usual pot full of annual flowers, I dedicated a few pots of soil to tomatoes and also planted some watermelon seeds.

As I have been somewhat occupied this spring and summer with trying to keep my plants healthy and growing, I have learned a few things about fruit. When I was asked to give a talk at a church meeting last night, I took some of the lessons I am learning about growing fruit and applied them to growing good spiritual fruit in our lives. Here, then, are some thoughts on fruit.

1. Fruit is a plant that contains its seeds. This means that fruit has the ability to reproduce itself. It carries an exponential factor. Not only is it tasty and attractive, but it is meant to produce more and more every year, just like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control are meant to always be increasing in our lives and in the lives of those around us.
2. Fruit is sweet and edible in its raw state. We do not have to add anything manufactured to fruit (unlike chocolate which is made by adding sugar, milk solids, lecithin, and often some type of fat to the cocoa solids pressed from the cocoa bean). Fruit is very attractive. When people see someone enjoying a juicy strawberry, they want one, too! This is what good spiritual fruit is supposed to do as well. Being loved invites us to love others. Seeing someone who is joyful is supposed to attract us to participate in joy.
3. Fruit is the maturation of flowers. Unlike my pretty pot of purple and yellow flowers which are a feast for the eyes, fruit goes past the flowering stage and produces something more. Apple blossoms on a tree mean that apples are soon coming. Spiritual maturation also implies a process that involves a significant amount of time. Fruit does not spring forth full-grown overnight. It needs time to form properly and ripen. As I have watched my plants over the summer, I notice growth every day. Peace and patience also grow by daily increments.
4. Fruit needs a simple environment to grow. All it takes is earth, sun, and water in the proper proportions. And really, growing spiritual fruit is much the same. We all have the perfect environment for growth: where we live, what we do, our relationships, our community, our family, the challenges of life, etc. The stuff of life is fertile soil for kindness and all aspects of spiritual growth.
5. Fruit is not primarily for itself (me). Fruit is meant to be enjoyed by others. In the same way, spiritual fruit that grows in me is for the well-being of those around me. Goodness, faithfulness, and gentleness are not merely desirable qualities that I get to pat myself on the back for; they are for the ultimate benefit of my community and my world.
6. Fruit grows from what I feed it. The nutrients in the soil work their way through the plants and vines to the very ends of the leaves where the flowers bloom and the fruit eventually forms. Whatever is flowing through the plant is what feeds the fruit. If I water my plants with vinegar water, the fruit will taste like vinegar. When we speak about the fruit of our lives, the same principle applies. What is going through my mind, my mouth, my thoughts, my life, my relationships, my work, and my every-day activities is what will end up flavouring the fruit in my life. Self-control is something that channels the right stuff into my soul to make sure that good, healthy, and tasty spiritual fruit is being formed.

But what happens when we live God's way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely. (Galatians 5:22-23, The Message)

This is a photo of a flower on my watermelon plant. And if you look closely, you can see a tiny watermelon starting to grow on the left side.

let me point you elsewhere

2011-07-28T00:28:00.007-04:00

This week, I was privileged to contribute to a blog dedicated to expressions of church in an urban setting. You can read my entry here and check out some other cool writings, videos, and presentations by accessing the general website here. Thanks to Steve Hamilton for making the connection possible.

This is a photo from a fall fair in Ontario last year.

the good, the bad, and famous

2011-07-23T23:16:00.008-04:00

While in Key West, we visited the house of famous author, Ernest Hemingway. By today's standards, it is a roomy but modest home. The tour guide told us many amusing and interesting stories that gave us a glimpse of the adventurous, larger-than-life Hemingway. He was wounded in the first world war, travelled extensively, lived in France, Cuba, and various parts of the USA, and was married 4 times. Adventure or perhaps mis-adventure seemed to follow him. He survived several plane crashes, numerous other physical ailments and traumas, and years of heavy drinking. However, the depression that hounded him for many years eventually caused him to end him own life at age 62. He left behind a collection of novels and articles, the Pulitzer prize, the Nobel prize, and three children. And a mixed legacy of good work and bad choices.

Hemingway's story is a tragic one. Like so many artists, the beginning is promising, the middle is troubled (often accompanied by destructive behaviour and addiction), and the end is premature and senseless. The visit to Hemingway's house troubled me. To some extent, I agreed with the tour guide - that we want to remember the author for his great work and not focus too much on his messy family life nor his excessive drinking. But is that fair? Honest? Or even wise?

News of the death of singer Amy Winehouse this weekend saddened many (and unfortunately, in some ways overshadowed a great tragedy in Norway where nearly a hundred people lost their lives). Why is it that some of our greatest creative minds and voices seem to be so troubled and make choices that jeopardise not only their careers but too often end their lives? I have heard it argued (and to some extent agree with the sentiment) that their tortured lives often provide fuel for their creative expressions. Van Gogh is another example that comes to mind. In some way, suffering and pain do seem to infuse depth into their works. It makes the artist dig deeper, past the uneasy surface we so often live life on, and get at a certain rawness that we all recognise and identify with. It helps them paint with bolder colours and sing stronger, more haunting melodies. But aside from that (and the obvious monetary rewards), it does not seem to profit them much. And to me, this is the really sad part: that suffering would become fuel for an artist's work and stop short of becoming cathartic or catalytic in their own maturity or healing.

We all have good and bad parts of our lives. In this way, we are no different from the famous, the creative geniuses, the rich and influential figures of our time. But it bothers me that as a culture we hold up these tragic figures as creative heroes in some way, expecting little of them in the arena of maturity. If you want to be my hero, someone I look up to, you have to do more that write some clever words, sing some beautiful notes, or look good on camera. You have to have some hard-won qualities in your life like faithfulness, patience, grace under pressure, generosity, self-sacrifice, humility, and self-control. Yes, I am saddened by the deaths of creative minds such as Hemingway and van Gogh, and in some ways a preventable death is even more tragic than an unpreventable one. But tragedy does not make a hero. Courage does.

Someone like Mother Teresa comes to mind, who chose to spend her days in the presence of the dying and neglected poor, offering them dignity and love. Dietrich Bonhoeffer (whose biography I just finished) is another example of courage: he chose not to leave Germany in order to ensure his own safety during Hitler's rule, but did what he could to stand in the way of evil as it threatened his homeland. In the end, he died for that choice.

Courage is also very present in my own world: in the people of an intentional community that I interviewed last week who have committed themselves to the poor in their city and to building healthy relationships, no matter how difficult that is at times; in Dean who faces pressures and challenges with good humour and grace every day at work; in my sister and brother-in-law who serve the people of Afghanistan despite high personal risk; in the mothers and fathers who spend their lives investing in their children instead of pursuing lucrative careers. These are not the famous people, the high-profile people, the rich and influential of our society. But they are my heroes - living simple, courageous, and humble lives.

This is a photo of Hemingway's writing studio in Key West.

because...

2011-07-20T14:54:00.015-04:00

We just returned from 5 days in Florida. It was a welcome and much-needed break from the pretty hectic year we have had. It is amazing how being in a different location (and without internet for the first 2 days) allows the mind to put aside most of the stresses of current and impending projects and slow down to embrace the beautiful present moment. I try not to have specific expectations about how things will turn out (mostly a waste of time and an exercise in disappointment, I have found), but everything about this trip seemed to be more than we could have asked for. From the moment we stepped into our first hotel room in Miami and saw the view of the harbour through the floor to ceiling windows, I felt like I had won a prize on a game show.

For the most part, we travel very simply and economically, and this time was really no exception. I shopped around for hotel deals, Dean used points to get a free night, and someone generously gave us the plane tickets. The one splurge we did decide on was to rent a convertible for the time we were there. It was a treat for Dean and much cheaper than buying one! The drive along the Florida keys was beautiful and when we crossed the 7-mile bridge with the ocean on one side and the Gulf of Mexico on the other, all I could do was stare and say "Look at that!" over and over.

We spent 2 days in Miami, frolicking in the ocean off Miami Beach one afternoon (it was as warm as bath water; you could walk out for a long time and the water would only be up to your waist!), riding the free air-conditioned sky transportation around town, wandering around the marketplace by the port, and eating a lot of really tasty Mexican food. Then we drove to Key West, marveling at the unique beauty of each island along the way. By the time we arrived at our hotel a block from the ocean late Saturday afternoon, we were pretty hot and tired. Dean wanted to catch a meeting at the local Vineyard church that night and while I agreed in principle, I sighed as I thought about getting back in the car, driving 45 minutes back the way we came, and postponing dinner and seeing the sights of Key West. We were on vacation. Couldn't we skip a church meeting just this once? Of course I never voiced this reluctance, but the thoughts were there as I unpacked a few things in our hotel room overlooking the pool and munched on the warm chocolate chip cookies they gave us when we checked in.

And then from somewhere in my mind or heart or spirit of wherever the truth springs from at times like this when we need to hear it, I was reminded of something: I was here, on this vacation, enjoying these beautiful surroundings because of the blessing and generosity of God in my life. How could I think it was a chore to take a few hours out of my playtime to worship and give thanks to Him? At that point I recognised the ingratitude and selfishness in my heart. It was not that going to a building or meeting was particularly important that night, though neglecting an intentional, regular and communal gathering of Church for whatever reason can be a symptom of an individualistic, self-guided faith (which is a whole other issue that I won't address here). No, the important thing that night was that I saw my attitude for what it was: ingratitude that threatened to turn a gift into self-indulgence. "Because" was the word that caught my attention. I was here because God was good, and I did not want to forget that primary cause.

It was with joy that I went with Dean to the Saturday night gathering at Keys Community Church. They were just finishing serving dinner when we got there and we had a quick bite to eat before the music began. We chatted with the pastor afterwards and were much encouraged by how consistently and generously they serve their community in creative ways. On the drive back to our hotel, we witnessed the most beautiful sunset playing out before us. I was again rendered mostly speechless by the beauty of it and snapped pictures in a vain attempt to capture the stunning mixture of moving colours and textures.

We had a great time wandering around Key West over the next 2 days, taking in all the sights, touring Hemingway's house (perhaps I will write about that experience at a later date), watching another sunset from the boardwalk, and eating seafood (that would be mostly Dean, though I did sample a conch fritter) and Key Lime pie. On the drive back to Miami on Monday afternoon with the top down, watching the clouds and blue water play off each other, I was overwhelmed with a sense of fullness. My life just felt so rich at that moment! And it wasn't really in response to a great vacation - no, it was a sense of gratitude that I was riding in a car with a man who loved me and was one of the most stable, faithful people I knew. It was an awareness that I was blessed to have eyes to take in the magnificent sights of sea and sky. It was a feeling of freedom from petty worries and complaints that sometimes clutter my mind. It was my heart trying to emulate the grandness of the vista before me.I believe that part of the reason I love the ocean so much is because it stretches my heart and mind and spirit and soul. It forces me to look beyond what I normally see, and think beyond the concerns of my small life. It reminds me that I am a speck in this universe, and that perspective is humbling and gratifying at the same time. I love being part of something bigger than myself.

When we arrived at our hotel that night, we opened the door to our room to find that we had been upgraded to a 2-bedroom suite with 3 tvs and 2 bathrooms. What? The place was almost as big as our condo! I ran from room to room, unsure what to do with all that space. Part of me wanted to call someone, anyone, and tell them to jump on a plane and join us! Part of me thought it was wasteful to give us this huge suite when all we really needed was one bed. Finally, I just accepted it and stopped trying to figure out what I was supposed to do with it.

I know that when I talk or write of things like this, it makes certain people feel a sense of lack. When we went to Hawaii last year, several people jokingly said that they hated me. I understand that, I do. I have also been in that place of feeling like I am missing out. But I also know that how I respond to having much and having little says a lot about the largeness of my heart as well as the humility and generosity of my spirit. In some ways, it is easier to be scraping by than to have blessings heaped on you. When gifts come our way, it is easy to think that we deserve them, and it is but a short step from thinking we deserve them to demanding them. It is hard to have much and to remain humble and content.

I am back at home now, doing a lot of laundry today, catching up on writing, and preparing for meetings and talks I have to give. I still feel that sense of richness, even though there is a lot of cleaning and ironing to do and our bank account looks pretty sad. I believe that is part of what vacations and sabbath times are for: to regain our sense of richness. Richness is not in the tasks I do or don't do nor in numbers that come up when I look at my bank account. It is also not in my circumstances. I was reading Dietrich Bonhoeffer on the plane ride home yesterday and it was amazing how much richness and depth oozed out of his letters from prison.

I belong to God and that makes my life rich. Always. Because he is with me, whether I am on a fabulous vacation or thrown in prison. Because he is always good. Because he loved me first. Because he will never leave me. Because he is present in my life everyday, no matter what that day looks like. May I never forget where my richness comes from.

First photo: view from our hotel room in Miami.

Second photo: part of the sky driving back to Key West after the church meeting
Third photo: one of the Key Lime Pie places in Key West

extravaganza

2011-07-11T15:35:00.006-04:00

A few of the interactions I have had in the past week have all carried some element of a way of being and doing that I love encountering, and that I am hopefully learning to cultivate more in my life. It is that very attractive thing called generosity. Far more than simply giving a few dollars to the beggar on the street or offering to share my lottery winnings, it is an attitude that reflects vulnerability and openness. It tells people how much I want them in my life.

We attended a U2 concert on Saturday night. If I were to point to any one thing that stood out, it would not be the impressive stage nor the huge "fan jam" tent village erected for people to enjoy during the day nor the incredible number of humans gathered (80,000) in that one space, though all of that was remarkable. The sense that I got from the whole experience was extravagant generosity. I know we all paid good money to be there, and many also shelled out cash for t-shirts and over-priced refreshments, but I am not talking about what someone does for a living nor what their net profit is. I am talking about how they interact with others.

The design of the stage for this 360 tour was one that sought to include everyone on all sides. Though it was arguably the largest stage I have ever seen, it felt paradoxically intimate. Bono, predictably, pulled out a few individuals from the audience (one was a man with a turban and the other was a small boy) who sang along into his microphone when he offered it. It was a simple gesture, but this, along with the circular track around the stage which gave the band members the freedom to roam around and play to every side, and the two sections of the stage which allowed people to stand inside the performing area, said a lot about how much they wanted to connect with their audience. They were not trying to keep their distance or simply play to us. One got the sense that we were all having this experience together. The gigantic screen hovering above the band (and lowered at different points) gave a clear view of them from all angles. The sound (some of the most amazing, clear sound I have ever heard) was also designed to project to all sides and provide optimum clarity for everyone, no matter where they were sitting or standing. The whole venue was designed to offer the audience the best, most intimate, and unique experience that money could buy. And U2 did not skimp on anything. Extravagant, indeed! And if you have ever been the recipient of extravagance, then you know what generosity looks like.

This past week as part of a research project I am working on, I have been in contact with a few authors, researchers, and leaders in the new monastic, intentional community, and emerging church movements. I was humbled by their quick replies, their willingness to converse with a total stranger, and their readiness to give me their personal coordinates, arrange visits, set up a video call, friend me on facebook, and answer my questions. Their generosity meant that they did not keep their distance from me. They are freely sharing what they have and who they are, and I appreciate these busy (and sometimes high-profile) writers, leaders, and practitioners letting me into their worlds for a few minutes. To me, this says a lot about their desire to be people who exemplify what they are learning and in addition, placing strong value on sharing their learning journey.

Part of the challenge of being a teacher, a public figure, or even an introvert is that sometimes giving ourselves to others can feel pretty costly. I use the word, "feel," because I believe that even though generosity does and must carry a certain factor of depletion, it is much less costly and stressful than protectively clutching at our precious bits of information or hiding parts of ourselves away from others. Really, how much energy does it take to be myself? Not much. The energy and resources (at least for me) come in trying to be my most loving self. Yes, being honest, real, patient, vulnerable, gracious, and loving is a challenge. Like surrender, it is the easiest and hardest thing at the same time. It is a lesson in being extravagant. In offering what I have freely, and that includes myself as well as my resources.

In light of the extravagance of the Creator so evident in this universe and the love that my parents, family, and friends, and even total strangers have shown me, let me delight in being generous with all that I am and all that I have.

These are two photos from the U2 concert: the first is the ginormous 360 stage. The second is of The Edge as he played to our part of the crowd.

book review: On the Verge

2011-07-06T13:00:00.007-04:00

I was recently introduced to (and intrigued by) Alan Hirsch through a video in which he talks about how risk-averse we have become as church. A culture of comfort and security have replaced the pervading atmosphere of adventure found in the life of Jesus and his followers. These thoughts resonated deeply with me. Therefore, when I saw a new book of his come available for review, I jumped at the chance! Here, then, are my thoughts on the book: On the Verge by Alan Hirsch and Dave Ferguson. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2011.

A few things struck me when I first started reading. There is a recurring theme of hope, especially for the future of the church, in the comments from the pastors and authors who lend their recommendation to the book (see the first 3 pages). This probably reveals as much about the state of the minds and hearts of many North American pastors as it does about the content of the book. Interest, excitement, commitment, and growth are declining in the Western church as we know it and we are not sure why. My second observation is that Hirsch and Ferguson have done their homework. Hirsch has spent a good deal of time developing and researching the theoretical content and Ferguson is an experienced practitioner. Their voices together lend authority and integrity to what they have to say.

Hirsch and Ferguson are clear in identifying their audience (the Western church) and stating their purpose: recovering the ancient, powerful, and beautiful apostolic movement. They propose that this can be done through four basic steps: 1. engaging missional imagination, 2. making a shift in our paradigms of church, 3. innovating and incorporating change, and 4. becoming a movement that actually moves. In general, they are not skimpy with their development. Hirsch draws on a number of noted experts from business as well as practical theology to inform his contribution in the first two sections. Likewise, Ferguson (church planter turned megachurch pastor) has examples from his own experience as well as stories from other growing missional churches to illustrate and support his more practical chapters on innovation and movement.

For the most part, they succeed at reintroducing the reader to some very tricky and oft misused words such as apostle, movement, missional, church, and discipleship by carefully defining them and spending a lot of time reinforcing what they mean by these terms. As well, Hirsch introduces several new phrases to encapsulate some of his more basic concepts. These include Apostolic Genius (every follower of Jesus carries the church's potential for world transformation), mDNA (missional impulse at the very core of what we do as church), and Verge churches (faith communities on the tipping point of becoming missional movements).

There are also plenty of charts and nifty diagrams included for those who grasp things better visually as well as a survey available online to take a snapshot of how your church fits into all of this. Though using a book to communicate the principle that discipleship must happen life-on-life and not simply through intellectual study might give one a certain sense of incongruity, the authors include enough stories, examples, and discussion sections to overcome a good deal of this limitation.

Let me offer a few quotes to give a sense of what you will find in this book:

The answer for the church lies in the deepest framework of our ecclesiology as Jesus designed it. We are not simply saying this as a little peppy inspiration thing; we are stating a deep truth that will help us avoid importing false and misleading ideas and methodologies into the church in order to motivate it. This is not magic but simply recognizes that God has invested his people with real potentials, due largely to the ever-present kingdom of God, the lordship of Jesus, the transforming power of the gospel, and the presence of the Holy Spirit in and among the people of God. We ARE the church of Jesus. (p. 44)

...don't plant churches; plant the gospel, and the church will grow out of it. (p. 73)

Missional God leads to missional church. Incarnational God leads to incarnational church. (p. 133)

Ephesians 4:11-6 unambiguously declares that we can't mature without [apostles, prophets, evangelists, shepherds, teachers]. ... How did we ever think we could possibly mature with just the anemic twofold form of shepherd/pastor and teacher? (p. 135)

It was this life-on-life phenomenon that facilitated the transfer of information and ideas into concrete situations. This is the way Jesus formed his apprentices, and we shouldn't think we can generate authentic Jesus followers in any other way. (p. 176)

... we certainly do need serious intellectual engagement with the key ideas of our time. What is concerning, however is that such engagement largely takes place in the disengaged and passive environment of the classroom. This is simply NOT the way Jesus taught us to develop disciples. (p. 177)

We ALL need to be reJesused. All the time. (p. 275)

On the whole, I believe that Hirsch and Ferguson have done a really good job at providing not only reasoning for but also practical suggestions on how to reorient current ecclesiological thinking and practice to better reflect the dynamic nature of the kingdom of God - a place of continuous movement toward people and places that need grace.

Let me point out a few minor issues I had with the book. In a few places, unfortunate language creeps in which smacks of subtle leadership elitism ("...we need them to get it in their head and heart" p. 264), carries a hint of objectification of people ("...God has a great idea about how to use everyone!" p. 235), and reminds one of somewhat questionable marketing ploys ("sell the problem before you sell the solution" p. 91). There is also a noticeable lack of depth in the quick summary of church history (basically it boils down to blame everything on Constantine) as well as a certain anti-tradition bias that comes through (p. 36-37). At times, their two voices also use contradictory language which could be confusing, but this is minimal.

Both Hirsch and Ferguson admit to speaking from primarily a megachurch context, and at times this flavours how they contextualize their ideas. However, they are by no means unaware of the power of the small, as is obvious from this refreshing quote they incorporate from Neil Cole:
Why is small so big? Small does not cost a lot. Small is easy to reproduce. Small is more easily changed and exchanged. Small is mobile. Small is harder to stop. Small is intimate. Small is simple. Small infiltrates easier. Small is something people think they can do. Big doesn't do any of these thing. We can change the world more quickly by becoming much smaller. (p. 287)

In general, the authors have placed the emphasis back on Jesus deciding what church is, does, and looks like, and I really like that. I will be incorporating some of their ideas into my church context.

This is a photo of the book on the verge of tumbling over the edge.

thesis defense

2011-06-28T13:37:00.007-04:00

I had my thesis defense on Monday. It was a good experience, a very good experience, for me. Not at all the scare-fest I thought it would be. When I first began my master's degree, one of the things I was sure I didn't want to do was defend a thesis, and that was why I chose the project option. The idea of standing in front of a committee of learned scholars and being grilled was a scary thought that made my stomach lurch in nasty ways. I would rather eat sushi (for those of you who know how much I dislike the Japanese fast food, this is a rather strong statement).

I have moments when my mind goes blank. I struggle to remember names and dates. For some reason, my mind likes to file away important, general information in a storage facility where it is very hard to access at short notice. Also, I have been known to easily get distracted and lose my train of thought. All of these can be deadly in a defense situation where one needs to be able to respond quickly to challenges and questions in order to demonstrate a broad knowledge as well as insightful depth regarding the subject of their thesis.

About a year and a half ago, one of my professors challenged me to reconsider doing a thesis. He is a very persuasive man and what he said made a lot of sense, so I gave it some serious thought. Shortly after that conversation, I was watching the movie Invictis and had an epiphany about not making choices based in fear (you can read a bit about it here). I realised that I had taken the project route because I was afraid to defend a thesis, and as someone who desires to live life without fear, I saw clearly that I had to change my course of study. So I started down the thesis road, a road which is ended on Monday.

To my surprise, I had no fear going into the defense. I was well-prepared, I knew my topic, and I knew I was in a room with friends. The kind of friends who are rooting for you, but who challenge you, who gently point out your mistakes, and who won't let you get away with doing less than you are capable of. I love all that these teachers have brought to my life in the past few years. And love is always stronger than fear. The three professors who questioned me were not trying to trip me up - they were giving me a chance to prove to them and to myself that I had mastered a subject. Of course, there is still plenty I don't know, and when the questions ventured into territory that I was unfamiliar with, I stated as much. Knowing where your knowledge ends is as important as knowing what you do know. And I surprised myself with how much I did know and was able to articulate not only clearly but with confidence and conviction.

In a preliminary thesis proposal that I presented in December, I made the claim that if I could learn to love Evelyn Underhill (my thesis subject), then I could understand her and learn from her. And I believe this is my strength as a student and a somewhat unlikely theologian: I learn by loving. Because I have found that love enlarges not only your heart, but your mind and your capacity to understand.

This is a photo of one of the books that I cited in my thesis.

By the way, my favourite book of Underhill's is The Fruits of the Spirit. It is a short, easy read that demonstrates her remarkable ability to fuse profound spirituality with everyday life. Plus, you get to experience her distinctive early 20th century, middle-class London style of writing. Read it sometime if you can.

another lesson from the metro

2011-06-24T14:00:00.007-04:00

I know people who struggle with depression. I also know people who suffer from positive thinking. At the risk of being over-simplistic, both of these tendencies (at least to me) ring of untruth in their own way. I always seem to be at a loss for words in the presence of super positive people. What can one say to someone who will only see what they want to see? Likewise, I have little to offer those who are trapped in despair, teetering on the edge of blackness. Maybe a hug or a sighing prayer.

I was on the metro a few days ago and they were having some problem with the automated voice that announces each upcoming station. I was deep in a book, as usual, and relying on the voice to let me know when I was approaching my stop. However, this time when the train left the station, the voice spoke some very unfamiliar words. I stopped reading and wondered if I had inadvertently stepped on the wrong train. I checked the metro map and found that the female voice was announcing stations from another part of the underground system altogether. The voice then began to announce, in rapid succession, all the stations at the other end of the line.

It was disconcerting to be hearing these strange words. It made me check twice when we pulled into a station to make sure I was on the right track. Yes, it was indeed the station I wanted to be at. Things were pretty much normal and as they should be, but hearing the voice give me continuous conflicting information was quite disorienting.

And I guess this is what I feel when I hear people talk in overly positive or negative ways. I look around me and see that what is actually happening does not quite relate to what they are saying. The words don't match the present reality. I understand there are times when we speak of things that we hope for. We are perhaps trying to align our thoughts with where we want them to be, but no amount of saying "I am at metro Cadillac" will put me there. I actually have to go there.

I also understand that pain can cause us to view things in a distorted way, seeing actual or potential wounds everywhere. But no amount of saying "Metro Namur is being swallowed into a black hole" when I have just pulled up at that very station will change the fact. Positive thinking is not faith and negative thinking is not doubt. Both just reveal how badly we see, and perhaps admitting this goes a long way to having our eyes opened to what is in front of us. And that is the good and the bad, the possibilities and the disappointments, the love and the fear, all somehow encompassed within the great and good hands of God.

Today, I am preparing for my master's thesis defense which is a mere 3 days away. I have many people telling me I will do just fine, and I appreciate their support. But honestly, I know that unless I study and prepare, I am not going to arrive at the "do just fine" station. Saying it does not make it so. Unless you are God, whose words and actions are one. I am not, so I have to stick with taking this journey one station at a time, one day at a time, and hopefully, one truthful moment after another.

May I learn to see the truth better so that I can speak it and live it.

This is a photo from a recent walk I took through a field. Buds, seeds, grass, trees, all at different stages of their life.

pilgrimage

2011-06-19T20:56:00.007-04:00

One of the things I hate about writing (okay, maybe dislike is a more accurate word) is the number of drafts and edits it takes to come up with something that resembles a coherent and thoughtful piece of work. Another discouraging factor is the amount of time I spend spinning my mental wheels before I come up with an idea that is worth writing about. Hamster time is that period when I go 'round and 'round, trying a thousand different stories in my head, sifting through endless scenarios and possible themes before one of them actually appears feasible as well as interesting. It seems like time wasted, but it is, for the most part, the necessary process to arrive at the one idea that works.

This weekend, I have been working on a writing project. I had some inspiration on Friday night while I was talking about it with some of my friends, and I thought it would be a simple thing to put a few lines on paper. I did put some words on paper on Saturday, but after a page of scribbling, I realized that it was not going where it needed to go. And I seemed to have lost the spark of inspiration I had the night before. Argh! Tonight, I gave it another go. I took a different approach and came up with another page of phrases. But they, too, were lifeless. Not what I wanted at all.

I hate this part of writing. It is so demotivating, this part where I fail 2 or 3 or even 5 times before I get on the right track. But there is no shortcut. Aside from the rare occasion, I need this failing, de-cluttering process. These fails are the weeds that I need to cut down in order to see the flowers clearly. Yes, today I wish I could skip right to the beautiful, precise prose I want to write instead of wading through the swamp of fails, but the fails are part of the cost of good writing (of which this is not really a good example if you consider the mixed metaphors).

This morning, our faith community went on a mini pilgrimage together. Our goal was to trek to the lookout at the top of Mont-Royal. We took 1.5 hours to get there, and along the way we laughed, prayed, stopped and marveled, talked about life's challenges, walked in silent contemplation, listened, and journeyed together. By the time we reached our destination, we were already rich with what had transpired along the way. Pilgrimage, like writing, is a complete package. Path and destination cannot be separated from each other. Stairs must be climbed, winding roads plodded along, switchbacks made at times, steps retraced when necessary. Sometimes we have to wait. Sometimes we find ourselves hurrying. At all times we try to accommodate and help our fellow travelers. And in the process, we get closer to where we are going.

Right now, I am two fails closer to a good piece of writing. Time to try again.

This is a busy squirrel we saw on the trek up Mont-Royal.

knowing when to stop

2011-06-15T12:54:00.012-04:00

Sometimes life just seems bizarre. While some people are laughing and partying and watching a sporting event in one part of the world, others are dying in street skirmishes in a war-torn region. While one teenager plays video games and drinks Coke and thinks about nothing more than unlocking the next level, another adolescent faces painful surgery and possible life-altering complications. While a new baby is born into one loving family, another dies from neglect, hunger, or worse. At any point in time, we find ourselves touched by the good, the bad, the ugly, the painful, the funny, the overwhelming, the surprising, and the sweet. On good days, I can see some grand cohesion between these multi-dimensional aspects of life, but many times, I find myself puzzled or even at odds with what is happening.

This is a joyful time in my life; I am about to graduate with my MA and have a summer of relative ease before I plow into doctoral studies in the fall. I find myself laughing and dancing and being silly (just check out my last blog for proof of this). However, some of my friends are in painful seasons of life, and I wonder if my lightness of spirit is inappropriate in view of the larger suffering of humanity. But I don't believe in a communist-style equalisation of experience where we dial down the exuberance of some in order to temper the sorrow of others. No, please no. I want my grief to be fully grieved, but I also want to let my joy be explosively enjoyed. Let my love be gratuitous and indulgent, as love should be. Let my pain be borne with honesty. The richness and maturity of life depends on letting each colourful experience have its moment. And knowing when those moments are done.

I was taking the subway downtown yesterday, deeply immersed in a new book. I had my pen and paper out, taking notes. I lost track of time and when I looked up, suddenly found myself arriving at the station where I had to catch a connecting train. I wanted to finish my sentence, my thought, the word I was writing, so I continued what I was doing. The metro car stopped. The doors opened, and I knew I had to stop immediately or I would be stuck on the train, going in the wrong direction. I grabbed my book, paper, pen, jacket, and backpack, clutching them all in my arms in one big messy bunch, and scrambled off the train. A connecting subway pulled away in front of me just after I exited the car. Sometimes it can be annoying to miss a transfer, but this time, I was just happy that I managed to get off. I needed a bit of time to collect myself before getting on the next train.

And I thought about this urgency I felt to get off - to be willing and able to stop and leave a place when it was time, even if I didn't feel I was quite ready. Sometimes the journey is not so much about moving forward, but about getting off and stopping. Because if I continue on, I will end up where I don't want to go. Staying too long in sorrow turns into depression. Living too long in grief leads to bitterness. Remaining in party mode for too long makes one numb and irresponsible. Joking about everything stunts my ability to deal with reality in a compassionate way. Always talking about my past failures or successes means I never get off that train and as a result, don't go anywhere. Being stuck in editing mode means I never finish writing.

Stopping. Sometimes it is the hardest thing to do. But it is necessary to stop what we are doing, how we are reacting and thinking, because one mode, one train, cannot get us where we want to go - to living a full, rich, meaningful, maturing, loving, giving, life which belongs to God. There is a season for everything in such a life as this.

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace. ...
[God] has made everything beautiful in its time (From Ecclesiastes 3, NIV)

This is a photo of one of the cars on the street during the Grand Prix celebrations in downtown Montreal last weekend. It was stopped, and good thing too, because there were pedestrains all around it.

BONUS VIDEO: For a good example of silliness and wisdom each in their own time, but still together, watch Conan O'Brien's recent convocation speech at Dartmouth:

I Think I Can Dance

2011-06-13T22:04:00.004-04:00

Here is a short video I made while letting my supper burn on the stove. Just for fun!

one moment please

2011-06-08T14:14:00.009-04:00

Some years ago I worked as a receptionist at a window factory. My very first day at work I attended a seminar for receptionists. In this room surrounded by a hundred or so women who spent their days being the first point of encounter for various companies, I learned the magic of the word "moment." We were taught never to use phrases that referred to seconds or minutes because these measurements were too exact, and we would invariably disappoint some impatient customers who would take the phrase "just a minute" literally. Instead, we mouthed the magic, indefinite word "moment" together, savouring its immeasurable limbo.

The thing about a moment is that while it is a brief but undefined period of time, it usually carries a defining quality. We all remember moments in our lives when things changed. When we changed. I came across two such moments this week that have remained on my mind. One was the unfortunate hit that a player from the Vancouver Canucks hockey team made on Bruin's team member Nathan Horton during a recent play-off game. The hit was late, hard, and rendered Horton limp on the ice. In a moment, both Horton's and Rome's lives were changed in some way. Horton was taken to the hospital with a severe concussion and Aaron Rome was suspended for the rest of the play-offs. One brief moment.

Another defining moment I read about this week was the story of Achan in Joshua 7. During a battle between the Israelites and the town of Ai, a man named Achan came across some very tempting, but forbidden items: a beautiful robe from Babylonia, two hundred shekels of silver, and a bar of gold weighing fifty shekels. The soldiers had been informed in no uncertain terms that they were not to take any of the plunder from the city for themselves, but in a moment, Achan decided that he would try to get away with it. He snatched the precious goods and hid them in his tent. A short while later, 36 men died in battle because of his disobedience. A brief moment of pleasure cost 36 men their lives.

The things we do in these defining moments reveal a lot about us. The decision to instigate a hit even when the player no longer has the puck, or the decision to take something that is not ours just because we think we can get away with it, indicates that something is rotten deep down at the core of our character. In defining moments like this, our true nature comes to light; it is naive to think that what happens in these moments pops out unexpectedly without warning. No, we build these moments from our daily thoughts, our deepest desires, our secret fears, our buried anger, our hidden insecurities, and our willingness or frigidity in the areas of trust and vulnerability.

Mistakes do happen. Yes, unfortunate and puzzling circumstances sometimes align to produce devastating results, but I believe we are remiss if we do not own the part we play in tipping a moment one way or another. In an age where individualism is the starting point, it is sometimes difficult for us to acknowledge the impact we have on our intentional and accidental communities. Two people exchanging mean words on a bus affect the whole tone of that temporary community, while one teenager giving up his seat for a pregnant woman causes a ripple effect of small acts of kindness. I know; I have seen it.

Let me set my thoughts on those things which are pure, lovely, and good. Let me release my fears and plant faith instead. Let me desire to serve others instead of only myself. Let me find my security in being loved by God. Let my anger be only against injustice and let it never overrule mercy. Let me trust a heavenly Father enough to act like nothing in life is ever outside of his goodness, even when I can't see it. Let me be found in each moment drawing from a deep well of peace and grace. Amen.

This is a photo of my watermelon plants which had their defining moment of appearance yesterday.

see-through

2011-06-02T13:40:00.008-04:00

I have been looking through some of the pictures I took on our road trip to the East Coast this past weekend. The scenery through northern Maine was beautiful, as was the foggy, rugged landscape of New Brunswick. We didn't have a lot of time to trek around outside, so many of the pictures I took were through the windshield of a moving car. Now that I take a closer look at the the photographs, I can see all the bug guts splayed on the windshield, distracting from magnificent sunsets and lush greenery. I also notice all too many blurred images that indicate we were rushing past some amazing scene at high speed, and all I could do was capture an indistinct representation of its uniqueness. Sigh. Such is life. We see indistinctly and we hurry through.

I often view the beauty of this world through the bug-spatter of my life's idiosyncratic paradoxes. Incredible scenes play out before my eyes even while small deaths are happening all around me. And if I am not attentive, brief moments of touching poignancy which whiz past me without any fanfare, can be lost. I do not always see clearly. Life is messy and my eyes are often drawn to the mess instead of the beauty behind it. Sometimes I get tired of constant change and the speed of life and can miss the fleeting moments of unexpected, simple splashes of colourful inspiration along the way.

Two things I do know: my myopic eyes can never diminish the beauty that is always present, and my undisciplined attention span cannot negate a moment of divine synchronism. Beauty and defining moments will follow me all the days of my life. Will I choose to dwell with them?

Pictures along the way:

1. Sun going down in rural Quebec. Rain splashes and bug guts in the foreground.
2. Two bikers that we followed for many miles through small towns in Maine. They, no doubt, got more acquainted with the bugs than I ever did.
3. One of the bright, quaint, homey houses we passed along the trip. I just barely managed to capture part of it.
4. I never did get my camera out in time to snap a photo of the small herd of deer nor of the moose at the side of the road that we saw one morning in New Brunswick. Fortunately, not everything needs a picture to remember it by.

out of the box

2011-05-30T20:55:00.006-04:00

Last night we returned from a 4-day road trip to the East coast. We took in the annual gathering of Vineyard churches from the Atlantic region of Canada and managed to squeeze in a short stop at Bangor, Maine on the way there and a night overlooking the water in St. Andrews by the Sea on the way back. The break with Dean was a welcome one, though the conference was rather busy. Not only was I taking care of the registration for the event, I was also speaking at one of the sessions. It was no surprise that I fell asleep in the car on the way home as Dean drove through Maine.

The topic that I was asked to speak on was "Out of the Box," especially in relation to how we live life as followers of Jesus. It was such a privilege and treat to interact with a group of people who were up for exploring the risky venture that we know as transformation, and who were not afraid to engage in a slightly different format from what they were used to encountering in a church setting. It is amazing how creative and responsive people will be when you give them the space!

Here are some of the ideas we wrestled with together on the weekend:

1. Context: Recognizing our context is integral to being able to act and respond in honest and creative ways to those around us. And in order to see our context, we have to take a step back sometimes, get out of our box, so to speak. The letter "X" can indicate anything from a variable factor in an equation to an important mark on a treasure map to being part of the word, "exit." The explanation is all in the context, and our larger context is that there is nothing outside of God's purview; everything is penetrated by God. How we view history, the present, and the future cannot be outside of God’s operation and involvement. The small and the big and the in-between are all connected to him. He is involved in it all, creating a beautiful story with every intricate detail having its place and purpose. Church cannot be the paradigm. Spirituality is not the paradigm. Our life and our job are not the paradigm. God is the paradigm, and this must be basic to an understanding of our own context.

2. Risk something! Many things come in boxes: computers, Cheerios, Kleenex, even shaving oil! The product is useless unless one takes it out of the box and uses it for its intended purpose. Cheerios are not meant to be admired and discussed; they are meant to be enjoyed and eaten! One of the saddest facts is that church has become associated with middle-class comfort and safety instead of with risk. Following Jesus is always about risking something and carries a certain element of danger. Faith and surrender and love are very dangerous words to live out! Unfortunately, our society has ingrained in many of us the necessity of protecting ourselves at all costs, and this builds a culture based in fear. It is not only unhealthy, it will eventually kill everything we deem as important. A certain amount of danger is good for us. (I am quoting Alan Hirsch in this last sentence. Click here to see his 4 minute video on Communitas.)

3. Go big. When we consider living a big life or embarking on the adventure of faith, we need to look beyond our smallness, our weakness, our lack, and see the greatness of God. Otherwise, we will never have the courage to step outside of what we know. In Exodus 6-7, God asks Moses to take the lead in delivering a whole nation from slavery by going to speak to the Pharaoh. Moses responds, "Look at me. I stutter. Why would Pharaoh listen to me?" God adjusts Moses' perspective with these words: "Look at me." If we want to enlarge our life, we must change where we are looking. Instead of looking at our limitations, we must look at God and his greatness.

4. Go small. When talking about someone as immeasurable as God, we often tend to think that he likes to do things in a big, flashy way. We expect a grand exhibit of power or dynamic change to occur right before our eyes. While this is certainly a possibility, it is not the way in which we find God usually dealing with people. In Numbers 20, we see God instructing Moses to speak to a rock in order to provide water for thirsty people. Instead of speaking, Moses chooses to strike the rock in a grand and angry display, thinking this reflects God`s intention. A soft word was all that was required, no theatrics. In another time and place, when God shows himself to a depressed Elijah (see I Kings 19), this divine being is not to be found in the earthquake, the strong wind, or the raging fire. He comes in a whisper, a small voice. The small, humble ways are often more reflective of God`s interaction than the overwhelming sensory overload that we associate with greatness. Mother Teresa said: Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.

5. Go sideways. In an era when 'linear thinking' and '5-year plans' are everyday phrases, it is sometimes difficult for us to make space for the unlikely, the unexpected, and the strange. How often do we stop to notice and engage with something off the well-trodden, carefully-planned path? In Exodus 3 we read that while Moses is busy shepherding, he stops to look at a bush that burns but is not consumed. And because he takes the time to stop and look at this unusual phenomenon, he is presented with an opportunity to step into a role that will change his life and the course of a nation. It was not something he was looking for. It was not something he had conceived. It was much more uncomfortable, challenging, and strange than he could have imagined. And that's the point: we cannot imagine or plan what is in the heart of God. We have to be prepared to go sideways when something unusual presents itself.

Living a big life does not necessarily mean doing a big thing, but aligning ourselves with a God who is bigger and smaller than we could ever imagine or dream. And by the way, there is no box.

This is a picture of the deserted terasse of The Gables restaurant on a chilly, foggy night in the small town of St. Andrews by the Sea, New Brunswick.

out of order

2011-05-23T14:27:00.005-04:00

What do you do when certain things are not working in your life? You can't really call a repair man (or lady) to fix it because life doesn't have an 800-number to call in situations like this. For the last few days I have been experiencing general fatigue. I seem to always be tired, appetite is low (lower than usual), and I don't have a lot of grace for others. Perhaps I just need a vacation (yes, definitely!). Perhaps I have a bit of a sinus infection or something. Or perhaps I have run out of my own strength once again.

Being weak and vulnerable is always such an undesirable position to be in, and I find myself there at least a few times a year. It is when the capable and smart and funny and loveable me has left the building, and all that is left is the tired, drained, uncreative, complaining, and selfish me. Ideally, I would like to hole up in a monastic retreat until I recoup my composure and refresh my spiritual and physical self. Alas, this is rarely the case. At times like this, almost always the number of people through my home increases and the needs and needy are more present than ever. Though I have become better at not being a total jerk when finding myself taxed beyond my abilities as a giver of care and hospitality, I know I fall far short of being loving. I don't like the person I am at these times.

Inexplicably, though, Jesus still does like me and believes that I have something to offer besides whining and behaviour that borders on being rude. Why else would he trust me with some of the most challenging group situations at times like these? The difficult part is setting aside my social and physical exhaustion (which easily becomes an excuse) and reaching out for the giant helping of godly compassion that he offers me. This compassion is always available. I have never known it to be in short supply, and it always functions perfectly, softening my heart and the hearts of those around me. It is to my own detriment that I do not embrace it more often.

Weakness is hard to admit to. Weakness is hard to give up, too, because it requires giving up selfish-centredness as well. Strength that is not mine is hard to accept because it requires a certain and non-negotiable surrender. And one thing I am learning about this life is that any day void of the element of surrender is a day I have lived as an island, in isolation, without faith.

I am weak today. Be my strength, oh Mighty One.

This is a photo of the antique cash register at Le Placard Café in Montreal. It now serves as a display of flyers and sugar caddy. Very cool!

ironic

2011-05-19T13:40:00.006-04:00

Perhaps you remember Alanis Morissette's song from the mid-90s called, "Ironic." Many of the situations she mentions in the song could not really be classified as ironic (how ironic is that?) because irony, by definition, does not merely refer to coincidental or improbable events. Irony speaks to the incongruity and poignant nature of a situation. To quote one of the free online dictionaries: "Something is ironic if the result is the opposite of what was intended; an ironic event is an incongruous event, one at odds with what might have been expected."

In mid-April we delivered our spare futon and frame to some friends so that they would have a comfy bed for visiting family members to sleep on. We let them know that if they liked it, they could keep it. We have been considering re-purposing our spare bedroom, which does not really get a lot of guest traffic these days, into an office for me so that I can study in peace while Dean makes a lot of noise in the living room. I estimate that out of 365 days of the year, the room only gets used by guests about 30 of those days. In contrast, I use my office about 350 days of the year. We still want to put some sort of sleeping solution in place, but it would be something that takes up much less space than a full-size bed.

While we have been looking into different options regarding desks, bookshelves, futons that unfold into beds, murphy beds, built-in storage, and sofa-beds, the room has been pretty much bare. And since the bed exited our condo a month ago, I have had 3 sets of unexpected house guests. Ironic. Truly. We borrowed air mattresses from friends and most of our guests have been happy to pretend they are pseudo-camping and have not complained. However, it is far from ideal. The guests are not being fully accommodated and I have no improvement in my office situation. The challenge of finding a workable and beautiful solution that provides much needed storage space for all my books and files and expands my working space while easily converting into a temporary guest room is proving somewhat complex. One of the most innovative and efficient solutions, the murphy bed/desk combination starts at about $3000. Hmmmm.

And when the guests do drift through, I wonder how practical sharing an office with them will be. I need access to my officey stuff pretty much every day for several hours, much more if I am in the middle of a school term. Do I sit in my office and write at my desk late at night (as is my custom) while the wanderers snore several feet away from me? Or do I move books, files, and my computer out of the room for the duration of their stay? How important is it to welcome others into our home? Very, I would say. But how does it practically fit into work, study, life, and available resources?

I would love to have a very private space for guests to enjoy. I would love to have a dedicated office space that never gets disrupted. I would love for Dean and me to have our closet not located in the guest bedroom! I would love for guests to have their own bathroom. However, that is not how things are right now. At this point, every time people stay with us, we must all graciously share a bathroom, a small kitchen, closet space and balcony access.

Sharing. It seems that I need to learn how to do this better. And it is what our guests will get a chance to do, as well.

This is a photo of two tomato plants sharing space in a planter on my balcony.

certitude

2011-05-13T14:39:00.009-04:00

A week ago I took a mini road trip to Syracuse, New York to attend the American Academy of Religion Eastern International Regional meeting. Basically, it was a bunch of religion scholars from New York, Ontario, and Quebec together presenting ideas, exchanging information, eating finger food, and drinking wine. Very nice, actually. The SUNY campus is lovely and I spent what little spare time I had wandering around a bit of it and taking pictures.

Two of the talks I attended that sparked quite a bit of discussion were ones that dealt with certitude, doubt, and struggle. It seems that in some circles, 'doubt' is the new 'faith.' One of the men presenting a paper plainly stated that certitude is our enemy. And he seemed quite certain about that! (just pointing that out). While I understand that he is reacting to a tendency to offer simplistic, pat answers which indeed are unhelpful for the most part, in my opinion he pretty much substituted one pat answer for another. And honestly, I am not looking for certitude. When it comes down to it, I don't believe many people are. I believe people are looking for faithfulness, and that's a whole different thing. As opposed to certitude, which is found in facts, faithfulness is found in a friend.

I had drinks at a local pub with a few people yesterday afternoon with the intention of talking about some of the questions that we have about God, the Bible, faith, Christianity, etc. Hard questions, questions that you are afraid to ask sometimes. As we talked (and it was interesting to hear each person's doubts and problems with Christianity), I realised that we all have different questions about God as we have perceived him, as he is portrayed by others, and what we have read about him in the Bible. I believe that our questions reveal what the real issues are in our lives, what we are really looking for. And in my opinion, it is never certitude.

Those who say they have certitude (the bible is a neat and tidy document full of proof texts) are most likely uncomfortable with mystery and often feel safest when they are in control of their environment. Some people want to know how God can smite people and destroy whole cities in the Old Testament. They are looking for a merciful society where kindness and compassion rule, but don't usually have a strong sense of the inherent repercussions that our actions carry. Perhaps they are only too aware of their own shortcomings. Some people want to know why God picked Israel and no one else. These people probably want to belong, to feel special. Some people don't like all the patriarchal language in the ancient biblical texts (where is the equality for women?). They are mindful of the underdog, the outcast, and might even feel like one themselves. Some people want to know why God does not show himself to us, speak clearly in an audible voice, or make himself easier to find. These are people who are hungry for relationship and love.

I know that is a rather simplified way of looking behind some of these questions, but you get my point. I try to listen carefully to people's questions because they reveal what is important to them and more often than not, what we are lacking. I realise that I don't ask a lot of 'why' questions. For the most part, I am not looking for the answers to life's mysteries because I enjoy the beauty of mystery and don't need it explained. What is important to me is that God is present, that I know that he is near, that he walks with me through life, and that he is trustworthy. One of my most frequent questions to God is, "Can you help me today?" And he always answers, "Yes."

The first photograph is of the Hall of Languages at Syracuse University, where the conference was held. On the lawn across the street, I found this installation of orange paper cranes in support of the tsunami victims in Japan.

book review: Revise Us Again

2011-05-05T20:58:00.008-04:00

I recently ordered a book by Frank Viola called Revise Us Again: Living From a Renewed Christian Script. The agreement was that I would get a free copy in return for reviewing it here on my blog (thanks to Speak Easy bloggers). Good deal, right? I had read bits and pieces of Viola's writing before - most of it I found to be prodding and often provocative rhetoric that sought to point the church in a more authentic and biblical direction. There were several glowing endorsements of the book in the email that notified me of the book's availability for review, so I took the bait.

What follows are my candid and honest opinions. You need not agree with my assessments and thoughts, but I offer them here for your consideration. First, let me say that Viola is by all indications a lover of Jesus dedicated to the purity and authenticity of the Church. That's a good thing. He hits his stride in a few places on this theme of revision: in chapter 6 he uses personal experience and numerous examples from the Bible as well as influential historical figures to develop very helpful delineations of the reality of God's presence. These are clear, concise, and serve to clarify much of the confusing language we often hear on this topic (briefly, here are his 4 distinctions: God as actually present with his people, a perceptible sense of God's presence, setting one's mind and heart actively on his presence, and the unnoticed but ever-present consciousness of God's presence).

The afterword is chock full of scriptures which illustrate the point Viola has been trying to make in the preceding 10 chapters: that our life script must come from our identity in Christ, and all actions and attitudes should naturally flow out from this realization. Those are the really good parts of the book.

Sadly, much of the rest of this easy-to-read volume finds Viola vacillating between being too general and then offering overly detailed, specific scenarios; the result is that much of the book is hard to identify with unless you are an American who has been steeped in a variety of the contemporary Christian worldviews prevalent in the USA. He assumes that we share many of his experiences, but it is just not so, Frank. He also begins most every chapter with neat and negative categories of what is wrong with current Christian thought and practice. All of us have a religious heritage which has conditioned us towards these unhelpful and inadequate mindsets, he assumes, and I venture to say that this assumption is too narrow.

No doubt the audience that he is writing for (Bible-belt or cultural Christians looking for a fresh and authentic perspective, perhaps?) will find much of what he says helpful. That's good! But unfortunately, Viola's main weakness is his failure to follow the very principle that he is putting forth: that it all begins with our true identity in Christ. Again and again, he begins addressing an issue by drawing lines such as those between libertines and legalists; he makes boxes and then herds what he calls charismatics, quoters, and pragmatics into them. None of them are getting it right, of course. Much of the time Viola uses a deconstructionist methodology which, at least in my opinion, fights against his main theme of changing how we think about who we are. While he purports that all must start with Christ, he seldom does.

Some of the generalities that I found irksome (sorry, Frank) were that Viola tends to make sweeping assumptions like "a large portion of the Christian world today has neglected a number of vital elements of the gospel" (page 58). There is no support for or explanation of statements such as this. Also, there is no definition or clarification of many of the terms he uses such as fundamentalist and literalist and we are left to assume that he is using them in a rather loose, colloquial sense.

Viola draws on a rather broad pool of references for this small book, and unfortunately, seems not to have done his research on a number of them. He is not careful with words either, sometimes choosing a clever turn of phrase over an informative and clarifying one. At one point he has a fictional stereotypical figure refer to "the subjective soup of mysticism" and becoming "lost in the sauce" (page 48). A very evocative word picture, yes, but as a student of mysticism, I can authoritatively say that it is not an accurate or informed one, even if it was coming from a fictional character. At another point when he is talking about old wineskins versus new wineskins, he states that "the new wine is always better than the old wine" (page 113). I have never heard a wine connoisseur utter those words, in fact, they all pretty much say just the opposite. Perhaps Viola is referring to a spiritual principle here, but he never explains it, so the phrase just leaves one puzzled because it is so counter-intuitive.

When Viola concentrates on the centrality of Christ, the book flows wonderfully and inspires the reader to let all of life be moored to this simple truth. However, when he spends page after page chopping contemporary Christian experience and culture into bite-sized pieces and analyzing their lack of nutritional content, the theme gets lost. Perhaps a kind but rigorous editor might have helped him keep on topic as well as take more care to exemplify his theme. The book would be much better served if it were characterised by more renewing language (as the title suggests) instead of being so focused on deconstruction.

Thanks for the read.

This is a picture of my copy of the book and the requisite reading snack.

how to live to be 100

2011-05-02T16:45:00.009-04:00

I watched a talk on longevity a few days ago given by a researcher/explorer who, along with a team of scientists, studies pockets of people who live significantly longer (10+ years) than the average life expectancy. And keep in mind that he is talking about vigourous, disability-free life, not bed-ridden, incapacitated elderly folks.

We probably have ideas about what would promote longevity (don't smoke, don't work too hard, don't eat fatty foods, don't live a dangerous lifestyle, take health supplements, exercise regularly, think happy thoughts, etc.), but surprisingly, none of those appeared as decisive factors in the case studies. Considering that only 10% of longevity is genetic and 90% is behavioural, the findings are in some way applicable to all of us.

Here are a few of the points he made that I found significant:

1. How we treat older people impacts how long we live and how healthy our younger generations are. In a society where old age was equated with equity (value), the life expectancy rose by at least 4 years and disease was markedly decreased in younger generations.

2. Make sure you travel through life with a number of good friends who exemplify healthy values. If you hang out with people who are obese and inactive, chances are you will end up that way as well. Connect with faithful friends and stay connected.

3. Always know why you wake up in the morning; never retire from a purposeful life.

4. The sanctuary of sacred time is imperative to continued well-being. Those who are involved in a faith community at least 4 times a month add between 4-14 years to their life.

5. Move naturally; set up your life to be constantly nudged into physical activity. Do away with conveniences and enjoy intentional and natural physical activity (walking, gardening, stairs, etc.)

6. Eat wisely: have a bit of wine every day, eat a diet high in plant content, eat small portions.

It is interesting to me that these researchers so clearly saw that long and vigorous life is founded on being connected in a meaningful way to a committed and supportive community. If we take a good look at our friends, it might tell us a lot about how long we are likely to live.

You can watch the original talk on TED by Dan Buettner here. It is about 20 minutes long.

This is a photo I took today on my walk back from casting my vote in our federal election.

displaced disgust

2011-05-01T13:44:00.008-04:00

I read one of those troublesome parts of the bible last week. You know, one of those parts where God (through Moses) commands the nation of Israel to attack a foreign city and kill the people. Sometimes, like in Deuteronomy 20:13-14, the Israelites could take the women, children, and livestock as plunder. Other times, like in Deuteronomy 20:16-18, they had to kill every living creature in the city when they attacked it. Brutal.

I had someone ask me about these stories the other week, and I answered that the point is not the killing of another nation, but loyalty to God. She listened politely, but said that these parts of the bible still bothered her. I had to admit that my answer did sound a bit weak and pat, though I believe it was true.

A few days ago, I saw something in the bible that I had not noticed before. Nay, four things! Taking into account that we are reading a story from another time and place when tribal warfare was common and life was much more brutal, there are a few things that stand out in stark contrast to this primitive setting. First, in this particular story in Deuteronomy 20, before any attack was made on a city, they were to attempt a peaceful settlement with their enemies (v. 10). War was a last resort, not the only mode of operation. Secondly, they were to take care with how they used the natural resources: not chopping down trees at will, but preserving those that were necessary for food (v.19,20). Thirdly, those soldiers who had a new home, new crops, a new wife, or were afraid and disheartened were excused from battle (v.5-9). In the midst of this brutality, we find several indications of the desire for peace, a responsible use of resources, and some hints at kindness and gentleness that should not be dismissed.

However, the main thing that stood out to me as I read this chapter was verse 18: If you allow them [the inhabitants of these other cities] to live, they will persuade you to worship their disgusting gods, and you will be unfaithful to the LORD. I believe that part of our problem (yes, let's take ownership of our lack of understanding) in coming to terms with these brutal biblical war stories is that in our 21st century worldview we have a heightened responsibility for humanity and our earth and a very low sense of responsibility towards God. When push comes to shove, we believe it is more important to save the earth and be tolerant to our fellow human beings than to be faithful to God. It is called humanism.

It is interesting that we are easily offended by stories of mass killing (and I am in no way negating this horror), but are not much moved by how offensive our unfaithfulness (infidelity or dare I call it adultery?) is to God. We are just like the tribal people of Deuteronomy, easily swayed by the values of the society around us and too often guilty of disproportionate disgust. The strong language in these stories reveals that God knew all too well what fickle people he was dealing with and what kind of destructive unfaithfulness humanity was (and still is) capable of. Ask yourself honestly: are we capable of living in a society that operates with a value system that largely disregards God and not be affected by it? Very difficult, indeed.

Perhaps the fact that these war stories bother us reveals more about how little we value fidelity to God than about how advanced we have become in our attitudes. God have mercy on us.

This is a photo of a building in downtown Montreal. I love this city, but I love God more.

whirlwind

2011-04-28T16:15:00.005-04:00

It is a windy day today. This afternoon I took a long walk which included stops at the grocery store, the bank, the pharmacy, and the dry cleaner. At one point I thought I was going to lose a pair of pants as the wind lifted the plastic dry cleaner bag above my head, but I managed to get everything safely home, including my hair.

Things have been moving quite quickly in the past few days - it feels like a bit of a whirlwind. On Tuesday I submitted a thesis on behalf of a colleague who is no longer living in Montreal, and while I was printing out the multiple copies at the library and annoying a few people who were queued up after me, I received an email that let me know my own thesis had just been approved by my second supervisor and was good to go! The next morning I did one last proofread of the 114-page document and headed to school to print my own copies and hand them in to the various offices. Today, I just received news that the formatting is all okay (no changes) and that I now have a tentative date for a thesis defence at the end of June. After weeks of working, writing, and then waiting, everything seems to be happening very quickly.

On the one hand, things moving forward quickly is good, but on the other hand, I am all too aware that the impending completion of my master's degree means that many things will come to an end. First of all, there are people whom I have grown quite fond of, and I am not sure how much contact I will have with them in the future. As well, the very enjoyable and satisfying experience of serving on what I believe might be the best graduate journal committee ever is winding down. There is a bittersweet aspect to crossing this finish line.

Aware of this, for most of this final term I have determined to enjoy every minute of the experience, knowing that all too soon it will be over. I tried to relish every class I taught as a TA, every conversation I had with a student, every lecture I got to listen to, and every essay I had to grade. I made a point of appreciating every meeting or brief conversation I had with my supervisor. I took more time to hang out and interact with a few of my colleagues who had become good friends over the past years. I tried to take mental snapshots of this incredible time in my life so that I would not forget the richness of it, even in the midst of hard work and late nights.

Aside from all the other things I have learned at university, this might be one of the most important lessons: that today is to be savoured, never rushed through or wished away, and never complained about to the degree that it loses its sparkle of life and I lose my gratitude. Let me always take time to savour the tiny details and simple interactions, these rich moments that make me feel very much alive. They will never happen quite this way again.

This is the last photo I took with my wee Nikon Coolpix 7600, my first digital camera, before I sold it last week. Good times!

the trouble with resurrection

2011-04-25T13:31:00.008-04:00

I was asked to speak on the topic of "resurrection" on Easter Sunday. It seemed like a pretty straightforward task, so I mulled it over in my mind for a few days, read all the gospel accounts of Jesus being raised from the dead, studied some Greek words, researched what a few others had said about it, and tried to put something together. It was much harder than I had anticipated. For some reason, nothing I came up with excited me, and this was troublesome. How could I be so disconnected from the whole concept of resurrection when it is such a foundational aspect of what I believe?

Dean suggested I read what Paul had to say about it, so I went to 1 Corinthians 15 and found some disturbing answers to my question. Here are a few thoughts from my talk on resurrection yesterday:

1. I have removed myself from the context of resurrection. I used to work with a woman who could only eat chicken by never thinking about where it came from. For her, a yummy thai chicken dish originated in a nice sanitized package in the grocery store, not in a bloody death. And this is part of my problem with resurrection: I have sanitized it and taken it out of its bloody context. Following Jesus is not that dangerous anymore (like it was in Paul's day when he faced death numerous times), so resurrection has become less important. Life is pretty good; danger and death are at a distance. My hope has subtly been transferred from resurrection to a nice sanitized (we call it 'good') life. This is mainly because I am ignorant of the death in and around me and don't realize how much in need of resurrection I am. Jesus said: "So thick-headed! So slow-hearted! Why can't you simply believe all that the prophets said?" See 1 Corinthains 15:30-34.

2. Deep down, I am a skeptic. Yes, I am a person of faith, but there are many places where I am confused and want answers, perhaps a detailed diagram, certainly some explanation, and of course, some eye witness experiences. But resurrection (and much of who God is and how God does things) remains a mystery. God does not follow life's rules: he does not provide proof upon demand, and he asks me to believe things I will never see with my own eyes. And even if I did see resurrection with my own eyes, would I recognize it? Mary did not recognize the resurrected Jesus, neither did two fellows walking along the road to Emmaus. Would I fare any better? The disciple Thomas (who demanded to see Jesus' scars before he would believe in resurrection) reveals another unattractive truth about skeptics: we are control freaks. We demand to set the parameters for what we will or will not believe. This basically reveals our so-called faith to be reliance on our own ability to prove something rather than on the faithfulness of Jesus. Jesus said: "The people who have faith in me without seeing me are the ones who are really blessed!" See 1 Corinthians 15:35-38 and John 20:24-29.

3. I don't like death. My dad died when I was 23. It is the closest that death has ever come to me, and it changed me drastically. On the day that the most stable presence in my life was taken away from me, another presence made itself known. I remember washing my face in the bathroom shortly after I had received the news of my dad's death, and in that instant, I knew that everything that my dad had shown me about God was true. I also knew that I would never walk away from this God who became immanent when death arrived. When death touches us, something changes. The gaping hole that death leaves is the place where resurrection (life in a new way) can build a home. It hurts like hell, no doubt about it, but if I want to participate in something as powerful as resurrection, I have to be willing to let death near. There is no other way.

In our culture, we have devalued death. Nearly every movie or television show has someone dying. Many video games are based on killing. The news is filled with death that renders us somewhat numb to the whole subject. We are confronted with value-less death all the time, and I believe it is one way of distancing ourselves from it, of not getting real about it. In reality, death means that I have nothing left. In death, God has to come through or I am done. It is an uncomfortable place to be, but a necessary one. Resurrection only shines in a dead place. Jesus said: "You don't have to wait for the End. I am, right now, Resurrection and Life. The one who believes in me, even though he or she dies, will live. And everyone who lives believing in me does not ultimately die at all. Do you believe this?" See John 11:14-26.

This is a photo of flowers I saw in a shop during our walk on Mont-Royal street on Saturday. I love how the sunlight reflection overpowers the picture.

All scripture quotations taken from The Message.

On Being A Nation

2011-04-20T10:55:00.004-04:00

I had a dream this morning that was rather vivid. In the dream, I had written a book entitled On Being a Nation which was meant to inspire people by reminding them what it means to be a nation. In the book I outlined the responsibilities and privileges that come with nationality and surprisingly enough, it turned out to be quite popular.

Dreams are strange things. I used to dream a lot and was convinced that many of them were revelatory in some way. Perhaps they were. At least a few of them translated into actual experiences, and others provided wisdom and encouragement for people that I dreamt about. At the very least, they motivated me to pray about the situations and people I encountered while I slept. I kept journals for many years of my dreams, even wrote a novel based on a set of dreams about a specific person (you can read chapter one here), but for the most part, dreams remain a mystery to me.

Nevertheless, they do sometimes set my mind in a direction that I never would have gone during my waking hours, so I try to give a bit of thought to the tangents I go on in my dreams, just in case there is something worth mining there. And so today, I am thinking about what it means to be part of a nation. If I were to write a book by that title, these might be the synopses for the first three chapters.

Chapter One: Nation as United Aggregate
Yep, being part of a nation means that in some sense, we are one. We are many (aggregate), but we effectively act as one (united). Not in the sense of the mind-controlling, dehumanising Borg from Star Trek, but like a family unit, or an Olympic rowing team. All the parts (people) come together to become something greater than they are by themselves. On occasion we are witness to this unique collective, synergetic way of thinking. When team Canada plays hockey against team USA, we all become hot-blooded Canadians bonding over the event. Should a disaster befall some part of the country or a beloved public figure, we rally around to offer support. However, when no one is threatening our hockey prowess or there is no looming disaster to heighten our sense of responsibility to each other, we all too quickly invent our own disasters and tensions by turning on each other. We have forgotten what it is to be a nation.

Chapter Two: United
Unity continues to be a hot topic in Canada. I live in Quebec where separation is never far from the political agenda; this takes the form of provincial and federal parties who have both written separation into their mandate. Our governmental and judicial systems are founded on adversarial models which, to no one's surprise, result in people working against each other instead of with each other in the pursuit of a just, strong, and healthy nation. We tend to spend so much energy on trying to ensure our own well-being by taking it from another that we have forgotten that we are in effect, taking from the whole to which we belong. We are united, whether we like it or not, and how we treat each other affects our nation. If you have ever been witness to or part of a bickering family, you understand how extremely toxic and destructive an adversarial mindset can be. It is not the Liberals against the Conservatives. It is not Quebec against the rest of Canada. It is not the prosecution against the defense. It is not even the Canadiens against the Maple Leafs. Until we realise that we are not against each other, we will not truly be a nation.

Chapter Three: Aggregate
One of the reasons that I love living in Montreal is because of its multicultural, multilingual dynamic. Here, I am always in the minority in some shape or form, and that is good for me. It reminds me that I am a significant, though small part of this vibrant city. I am not superior to or more powerful than my neighbour. Even though she is better at French and accounting than I am, and I am probably better at theology and English than she is, we are not in competition. We have much to offer each other. At this point you might think that I sound like a champion of communism, and that would be true to the extent that we are talking about healthy community life. However, I take strong issue with the kind of commonality that sacrifices valuable differences in the name of manageable uniformity.

As an example: if you are an audiophile, you will know that much of today's music makes use of two recording tools (compression and pitch correction) that are useful in producing a very polished product, but alter the natural characteristics of the voice so that it sounds somewhat synthetic. In my experience, after a steady of diet of this artificial sound it is refreshing to hear the raw, true quality of a real, live, unadulterated voice. The natural voice showcases an artist much better than some snazzy studio production, because the little nuances are intact. Have we forgotten how to celebrate and highlight the nuances of our nation? Have we have forgotten how to sing with our real voices, in harmony with each other, in a song that is uniquely our own as a nation?

And that's as far as my ideas go on the book. Perhaps you have your own to offer.

This is a photo of the Canadian flag I own.

flux

2011-04-18T12:22:00.012-04:00

It is an unsettling day today. The weather has been windy, rainy, sleety and much colder than normal. I am unsettled as well. An important meeting that was supposed to happen this afternoon was cancelled. I am in limbo about how things will unfold in the next few months as I finish my degree. I just received a second offer of admission for doctoral studies, which probably won't change my direction, but it adds another factor to the mix. We are in the process of moving my work space to the guest bedroom (which doesn't have a lot of traffic these days). Also, any vacation plans we have tried to make in the last month have all fallen apart due to scheduling conflicts or unique opportunities that keep popping up.

Unsettled. The path is not clear ahead. I cannot step forward decisively. I must wait until the things that are in flux touch down. Flux. That's an interesting word. It means 'flow' or 'moving across' and has a dynamic quality to it, like a river which is always in motion. Despite feeling a bit like I am going 'round and 'round in a washing machine today (as my clothes have been all afternoon), being unsettled is good for me. If I go with the flow of life as God allows it to unfold (as I prayed this morning), I find myself listening more closely. I often see things I had not noticed before. I remember to hold things lightly, and make time for contemplation and rest.

If I fight against the current of the flux of life, I tire quickly, because despite my best efforts, I don't get anywhere. I cannot make the skies clear and the clouds stop hurrying across the landscape. I cannot force a meeting when numerous other people are involved. I cannot control the speed at which institutional administration decisions are made. I cannot transport furniture from one room to the next and conjure up new furniture out of thin air (though I would love to be able to do that today). I cannot inject extra days into a calendar. All these things are feeble attempts to fight against flux.

Aside from being a term used in physics to denote magnetic and electric flow, flux is also a word that refers to the turnover of molecules in the body. Like what is happening right now as a cut on my finger heals. Flux is the movement of life. It is necessary not only for healing, but for growth and progress. It keeps me buoyant and moves me along from one place to the next. If I embrace it, there will be no painful wrenching or uprooting.

I read something today that reminded me of this type of fluidity in the context of living by the spirit: Let prayer become life and life become prayer.

This is a photo of the rope that holds the drumhead taut on Dean's djembe - an example of well-placed tension that allows small movements to become become beautiful sound.

day off

2011-04-11T19:25:00.008-04:00

I remember having a regular day off last year. It was a nice break to spend 24 hours not thinking about the demands of school, and I felt it was imperative for my overall well-being. This past school year, however, that practice of taking a day off fell by the wayside. Taking on the additional responsibilities of a teaching assistant and facing looming deadlines for numerous large projects, I did what needed to be done, and I did it whenever I needed to do it. This meant that I worked 7 days a week on reading, writing, taking notes, teaching, grading, applying for programs and submitting proposals, as well as attending class. I did take 2 nights a week to participate in gatherings with my faith community, but often rushed home afterwards to complete any assignment I was in the middle of. On occasion I would also go to a movie with Dean, but there was no guarantee of a weekly date.

Since it was only a temporary situation, I had no problem embracing the intensity of those 7 months or so. I do realise, however, that this cannot become a permanent way of life, and it is something I need to guard against becoming the norm as I pursue doctoral studies, which will no doubt be an increase in intensity once again.

I read something this week that made me stop and think about this concept of a day off. It was in Deuteronomy 5 where Moses is reminding the folks (Israelites) that God commanded them to take a day off (sabbath). And the reason? Because they needed to remember that they were not slaves anymore; they were free. As slaves, they worked 7 days a week, no breaks, but as people who belonged to a kind and loving God, they could enjoy rest. So I ask myself: am I a slave to anything in my life? To finishing my degree? To my desire to do well in all my courses? To my love for learning and teaching? To my GPA? To my professors who expect a certain level of academic excellence from me? To my own perfectionism? To an unrealistic schedule? To a system that does not reflect God's values? To the pressure I put on myself never to disappoint people? To an elusive, demanding career?

Anything that keeps me from resting, from trusting God, from living with my hands open to give and receive, enslaves me. Hard work need not be slavery: I work hard because I am FREE to work hard. Slaves can't walk away, can't negotiate, don't have a respite from their labours, don't have a say in how things happen, and for the most part, are resigned to their situation. I am not a slave. Or am I?

It is interesting that there are several words that are translated "servant" in the Hebrew bible. The most prominent one, and the one found here in Deuteronomy (ehbed) is often rendered as slave because it implies a person in bondage. A second, quite uncommon word (sharath) is used of someone who waits upon someone and ministers to them. I would think that trusted and faithful leaders such as Abraham, Jacob and Moses would be referred to as ministers (sharath), but no, they are always referred to as bondservants (ehbed) of God. To our 21st century ears, that just sounds wrong, doesn't it? Slavery implies that I can't walk away, and that is what all these great leaders acknowledged: they would not and could not walk away from God.

It is a strange paradox - being free while being bound to someone. In many ways, I am a servant to Dean, because I have chosen to tie myself to him. Our destinies are intertwined. And perhaps this concept of linked destinies is one of the key ideas that defines my work as well as my day off. Who or what am I tied to? Whose destiny am I invested in? Who or what am I aligning myself with? If I am tied to God, then I cannot serve anyone else. And this God says that one of the signs that I serve him (and am not enslaved to some other person or authority) is that I take a day off.

To identify with God and his way of doing things is to extract myself from the frantic modus operandi of so many environments or disciplines. Instead, it means that I align myself with his ways. By his words, by his breath, by his spirit, something good is made (see Genesis 1). And only when God says it is good is it truly good.

This is a photo I took outside my condo this afternoon. Spring plants!

You might want to check out Bob Dylan's Gotta Serve Somebody, done by Natalie Cole here:

psalms of Matte

2011-04-09T13:38:00.007-04:00

In the book I am currently reading, The Cloister Walk by Kathleen Norris, she writes a chapter about the Psalms and how in contemporary spirituality, we tend to avoid some of them, especially the "cursing psalms" as she calls them. Seldom do you hear these read in public or expounded upon. The brutal, angry language is unsettling and uncomfortable. And yet, she insists, these psalms smack of reality - a reality that religion tries to ignore too often.

Following Jesus is not about positive thinking, which in many cases can be a form of denial. It is cowardly to pick and choose the pretty, uplifting parts of the Bible and leave out the bits about injustice, revenge, darkness, and pain. Even if I am not currently in a situation which echoes these themes, someone I know certainly is. How can I purport to love God and not identify with my neighbour?

Many years ago, on a quest to become a better writer, I began my own book of psalms. Though I never made it to my goal of writing 150 of them (perhaps I should take up the task again), I learned much in the process. Let me share a few of them with you here:

#14

Blue. A little life form.

Self-contained. A tornado of energy.

A warm ball of companionship.

What was unfamiliar in the beginning

grows dearer with every day.

It's a strange thing

the way we attach ourselves to animals

only to know they will probably cause

us sadness when they are gone.

Friendship is always this way.

(Blue, a kitten I had just adopted, died 4 days after I wrote this.)

#18

Why does God not show himself in my life more often?

Is it up to me?

So I ask.

God, come.

Must I do something first?

So I ask.

I don't know.

Is it just his way to come and go?

So I ask.

His ways are higher than my ways.

I wish he was more consistent in

showing himself to me.

Perhaps he wishes the same thing about me.

This is the blind on the window right next to my office. I can't see very clearly through it. Like life sometimes.

great

2011-04-07T19:51:00.014-04:00

Strong reactions. People have them. I have them, too. This week I came across some strong reactions that were puzzling to me because they seemed out of proportion to what was going on. Then I realized that sometimes when people get offended, it has very little to do with the actions of others (though I have been known to be quite offensive at times, so that's always a possibility). Many times when I get offended or react strongly to something, it has everything to do with me and my insecurities instead of something going wrong. The supposedly really horrible thing that someone has done or said was just the trigger.

At times like this, I remind myself of a few things:

1. I have no interest in undermining any one's authority or making anyone look bad. It is never helpful in any way. Neither am I willing to spend a lot of time and effort protecting or defending my own authority, position, or reputation. I will protect vulnerable people, yes, and I will not needlessly give away areas of responsibility and influence that have been given to me, but I will not demand that respect be paid to me because of some title, position, or right.

2. I am not great. Yes, I want to do something great with my life, and any of us might have moments when we touch largeness, some creative and generous brilliance, but it is fleeting. Greatness is most often found in small acts of kindness and sacrifice that no one notices. No one is really great. We are humans, flawed and prone to pride and fear. I hope I always maintain the ability to bow in front of real greatness: a self-sacrificing God, the smile of forgiveness from a child, or the fragile petals of a spring flower.

3. Humility erases offense. When in doubt about what went wrong, I want to be quick to say I'm sorry. When I feel slighted, let me graciously exercise thankfulness. When others blame me, may I be merciful with myself and with them. Humility goes a long way to reducing all kinds of stress and anxiety.

4. Keep focused on reconciliation instead of what went wrong. Forward is always the way I want to keep facing, not stuck in the past digging for definitive answers which don't exist anyway. A good grasp of the facts is good, but beyond that, I want to ask: What can I do right now to make this situation better for everyone? How can I bring love into the equation?

5. I would rather be at peace with myself (and my God) than in conflict in an attempt to maintain or improve my position and reputation. Let me pursue peace, inside and out, and walk in wisdom, refusing to make unnecessary adversaries.

6. Trust God ultimately. I will falter, others will fail me, and 'a sure thing' can fall apart. If I don't trust God, I will soon find myself in an unstable situation. He is my only rock.

After a bit of a shaky start, this has turned into one of the best weeks ever! I am at peace.

This is a picture of the moon tonight. It is one of those great things in life: beyond me.

riting

2011-04-04T18:36:00.010-04:00

I sent my MA thesis to my supervisor on Sunday afternoon. Big sigh of relief! I am sure that more revisions will be required, but for now, it is off my plate. It seems that I have spent most of the last two months writing and writing and doing more writing, which is probably why I didn't write much here.

At the same time, I have been doing quite a bit of reading on monasticism for a presentation I did a few days ago called: "What is monastic about the New Monasticism?" One of the books that came highly recommended to me because it touched on the topic was The Cloister Walk by Kathleen Norris. It was written in 1996 by a married woman of Protestant background who became associated with a monastery (an oblate, in technical terms). The book loosely follows the format of a diary, with interesting stories and thoughts and confessions woven throughout. Ms. Norris is a poet by trade, and the writing is beautiful, honest, and poignant. As it turns out, this book is not doing much for my research, but it is feeding my spirit.

Writing satisfies and depletes me at the same time. It is a joy to express ideas clearly or to put inner thoughts into some exterior cohesive form, but it requires a vast amount of effort on my part. And sometimes, especially right now when my writer's larder is pretty barren, I need to remember what it is that I do and why I do it. This morning on the subway, I was reading The Cloister Walk and came across a story that made me stop and do just that. It was like coming across a deep well of clear water and suddenly realising that I was very thirsty indeed.

Norris tells the story of coming into an elementary school in North Dakota as a visiting artist to teach a class of fifth-graders about metaphors and similes. Here is what she does in the classroom:

I tell them that for this adventure of writing poetry, we can suspend many of the normal rules of English class. No, you don't have to write within the margins; no, you don't have to look a word up in the dictionary to make sure you're spelling it right - we'll do that later. For now just write the word the way you think it's spelled so you don't interrupt the flow of writing; you can print or use cursive (that's a big issue in third grade); you can doodle on your paper; you can scratch things out (here I show them my own rough drafts, so they can see that I mean it); you can write anonymously or even make up a name for yourself as a poet. ... if I do suggest some rules to follow, I always say, if you can think of a way to break these rules and still come out with a really good poem - go right ahead.

... By now the good students may be feeling lost. They're often kids who have beaten the system, who have become experts at following the rules in order to get a good grade. ... But it's the other students, the bad students, the little criminals, who often have a form of intelligence that is not much rewarded in school, who are listening most attentively. It's these kids, for whom helplessness and frustration are the norm at school, and often in life - maybe their mom's boyfriend got drunk and abusive the night before - who take to poetry like ducklings to water. [1]

And here is a poem that one of those "little criminals" in that class wrote:

My Very First Dad

I remember him

like God in my heart, I remember him in my heart

like the clouds overhead,

and strawberry ice cream and bananas

when I was a little kid.

But the most I remember

is his love,

as big as Texas

when I was born. [2]

This boy, who had been born in Texas, whose father had skipped town on the day he was born, and who had never been known as a good student, found a way to tell his story that day because a poet, a writer, gave him the freedom.

This is why I continue to write - because it is an exercise in freedom. Freedom to let what is inside come out, freedom to tell my (and your) story, freedom to be heard, freedom to learn, and freedom not to be tyrannized by rules.

[1] Kathleen Norris, The Cloister Walk (New York: Riverhead Books, 1996), 55-56.

[2] Ibid, 54.

These are strawberries on my kitchen counter. They remind me of summer...and ice cream.

introducing...

2011-03-28T22:40:00.010-04:00

The end of my master's degree is in sight, so I applied for graduation today. One would think that would be a pretty straightforward process. You click on the application form, you confirm the details that the university has on record for you, pay the $40 with a credit card, and hit submit. Whoa, not so fast. One of the details that continues to be amusing/frustrating/difficult to explain in this province is my name. It gets a little complicated, but here goes.

In Quebec, one's legal name is their name at birth. Hence, on all legal and provincial documents, the name used is the name that appears on my birth certificate. I can't change how they do things here, though Dean has expended quite a few vehement words and wagged a few of his meaty fingers in bureaucratic faces in various attempts. This NAB (name at birth) principle also applies to the health care system and to the educational system. I always have to pay special care when I go to the doctor's office because the name they call when it is time for my appointment doesn't sound familiar, especially when they get creative with the last name and its pretty vowels.

However, this so-called 'legal name' is not the name that appears on my driver's license nor on my passport. As well, I commonly go by a derivative of my real first name, so this means that the name in the university system does not resemble anything close to the name by which I am known to my friends and family. Usually, this silly situation amuses me, because the places where the issue arises are pretty isolated and easy to work through. But, it is proving to be a bit of a complex question on the academic end of things.

What will be the name on my degree? What will be the name I use for publishing articles (and maybe someday, books)? Will any of the people that matter to me know that I am the author if my NAB is used? Do I really want an academic name and a 'commonly known as' name?Over the past year, I have been in the practice of using all my names. It seems to cover all the bases, however, it is not really 'legal.'

I guess it would have been simpler if I had just stuck with the name I was given at birth and never changed it. But I have changed. I am not the same shy and quiet girl that I was at age 6. I do not have the same naive, slightly magical thoughts about God (at least not as much) as I did when I was 10. I may be about the same size as I was at 14, but I am stronger in so many ways, and yet less afraid to be weak. I am not the same 23-year-old girl who was afraid to go the funeral home and see her dad's body (though I still don't like the places). I am not the same college student who just couldn't work up the courage to talk to a guy she liked (now I talk to Dean non-stop!).

I have changed. My name reflects many of those changes. In the past few years, I have noticed certain friends and acquaintances adding an -ie to the end of my first name. It is indicative, at least to me, of a certain tenderness present in the friendship, and that I will always be a child in my heart of hearts. I love the evolution that has happened to my name over the years.

Perhaps it matters very little what name goes on a piece of paper. A piece of paper is not what whispers my name in the morning and says, "I love you." A piece of paper is not what shouts my name in a crowd, desparate to find me because we got separated. A piece of paper does not exclaim with joy when I call it on the phone. A piece of paper does not say my name in supplication, hoping I will say "yes" to whatever request they have. A piece of paper will never send shivers up and down my spine. Only a living voice can do that. And honestly, love can call me anything, and I will always respond.

This is a photograph of a funky candle holder I got for Christmas. You can see my hand, the camera, and a bit of my shirt reflected in its mirrored surface.

pointing

2011-03-24T00:47:00.008-04:00

March has been a bit crazy for me thus far. I am on the final push to finish my master's thesis, have to decide where to do a PhD in fall, am busy building an academic CV (presenting, publishing, applying for awards, etc.), and trying to fit in a normal healthy life with family and friends and a faith community. Oh, and insert coursework, lecturing on occasion, and some research on monasticism that is fun, but never-ending. In the past week, I came across two principles that made me sigh with relief and say a hearty YES at the same time, because they reminded me where this is all going and how it needs to happen. In case someone else needs help with those two things as well, I write about them here:

I don't need to promote myself. I heard this advice from a musician who works mostly in the church, but I find that this principle resonates very deep within me in my current setting. It affirms that I don't need to build the perfect CV (which lists all my incredible accomplishments that are supposed to make your jaw drop) or make sure I network with the best people or pursue the programs that have the best reputation. Though these things are considered necessary and important in order to position myself for really impressive learning opportunities and lucrative job offers, they guarantee nothing. And to be honest, I don't trust my future to them; only one is worthy of that kind of trust, and that is God.

I want to point my life in the direction of Jesus, and when I do that, my steps will fall into place, because pursuing God always leads to the best outcome (not easiest, but best). Whatever is God's good will become my good. The goal is not a great career; the point is to live my life as a friend of God, and anything I do with God is always a good adventure. It is also good to remember this in every area of my creative ventures, be it blogging, photography, music, giving talks, or drama. I don't need to promote myself. It has always felt awkward to me, anyway. I would much rather spend my energy developing my ability to follow Jesus. The pay-off is much better.

We are made for journey in a direction. Today in class we were talking about good and evil (always an interesting topic). In discussing Augustine's take on this, it was brought out that he believed too much weight was given to evil when we present it as the antithesis of good. The two do not have equal power; evil is not the yang to God's yin. Instead, Augustine saw all evil as a distortion of good. What this implies is that evil cannot exist on its own; it was not created and has no creative power - it is simply a distortion. Whatever is pointed in the direction of God is good; it is what all of creation was made to do. Whenever anything gets off target (sin basically means "missing the mark"), it becomes evil, because it is pointed towards a purpose other than God's purpose.

Everything God created was made to move. We are all built for journey and pilgrimage, geared to orient ourselves to an object and move in that direction; we are not static beings. We move towards an object of affection or interest or admiration or even hatred, but we move. And whatever we are oriented towards, wherever we point ourselves, that becomes the direction our lives take. We can develop great skill at hitting a target, but all our efforts can be futile or even very destructive if we are not facing in the right direction. These two principles have clarified some major choices in my life lately. All the stuff of life can appear so confusing and complex at times, but it really isn't. If I remember never to turn away from looking at Jesus and forget about promoting myself (it really never was my job), I will end up where I want to go. And that is good. Very good.

This is a photo of a gear clock that sits in my living room.

the many faces of "I don't know"

2011-03-17T14:26:00.005-04:00

My thesis on Evelyn Underhill is coming along slowly but surely, thanks for asking. In my last post I pointed out some of her shortcomings, which was mainly due to the fact that I was immersed in a chapter dealing with her critics. If I was to write about her today, I would tell you about her struggles and how they positively informed her spiritual journey (the current section I am working on). My thoughts tend to reflect where I am in the writing process, so please know (oops, spilled some tea, cleaned up the mess) that I am fond of Underhill and feel that I have a lot to learn from her.

Okay, now that I cleared that up, I want to write about something else I have been thinking about lately. It is the commonly used phrase, "I don't know." As a student, I say this a lot, though I try to word it more eloquently using phrases that go something like "Oh, I have often wondered about that as well." As a teaching assistant, I probably say it even more often, because questions come my way that are beyond my scope of knowledge. My clever response usually goes something like this: "That would make an interesting research topic." I don't know about you (see how I snuck in the phrase right there?), but this sense of not knowing something is a part of my world every day. However, it can mean many different things.

1. I don't know could mean that I don't have the information and will have to make some effort to get it, but someone knows it and the answer can be found. The state of not knowing is temporary and I can do something about it.
2. I don't know sometimes means there is no way I can know the answer. Will there be rain on the first Monday in May? I don't know. We will have to wait and see. This is also a situation of temporary ignorance, but I have no control over it.
3. I don't know can also reflect the fact that I don't really want to know. This means that I am content to stay ignorant about something. It is just not a priority for me to find out exactly how many screws it takes to hold my house together or what kind of tread my mailman has on his shoes. I am happy not to clutter my life with these details.
4. I don't know can also refer to a puzzling problem that many struggle with. Why do bad things happen to good people? We just don't know. People may speculate, and philosophy and theology attempt coherent answers, but in the end, this is beyond us and we know it is. However, it doesn't stop us from asking, wondering, searching, learning, trying to see part of the answer.
5. I don't know can be a scary place to live when it is the response to questions like: What will I do now that I lost my job? How will my friend recover from a devastating accident? My son is missing and I don't know where he is! Really scary stuff.
6. I don't know sometimes indicates a dead end. It can be a reflection that we have given up hope. There is no way forward that we can see. How can I go on? What options am I left with? Is there anyone who really cares?

For the most part, "I don't know" is a good place to be in temporarily. It helps us acknowledge our ignorance and spurs us on to learn something we didn't know. However, when it comes to the big questions, to those parts of life where the answers are not found through a search on google or wikipedia, "I don't know" can be problematic.

Even in the grand matters of life, I still think "I don't know" is a good starting place. It means that we have to trust someone other than ourselves, and that's good. But it is a bad place to remain, because it can lead us into despair and hopelessness. It can get us trapped in a cycle of fear and small thinking. Staying in "I don't know" can cause the world to close in on us instead of helping us to open up to possibilities that we might not have dreamed of. "I don't know" should lead me to risk trusting, lead me to risk stepping out in faith and go beyond what is known to what is hoped for. Let me believe in something bigger than myself. Let me give my troubling "I don't knows" to the one who created knowledge. Let me be content to know Someone who knows all things.

This is a photo taken of an interesting light fixture in the W Hotel in Montreal.

through

2011-03-13T13:16:00.006-04:00

I am in the middle of writing my master's thesis on Evelyn Underhill, a British writer on mysticism from the early twentieth century. Last night I was working on the section that deals with her personal correspondence; it is interesting to see how a spiritual journey is reflected in language. In contrast to the personal letters, her published books carry a certain sense of distance from her subject, the necessary academic objectivity, one might say. But to go along with that, I also get the feeling in many of her early books that she doesn't quite grasp what she is talking about (sorry, Evelyn!).

There is something about being intimate with one's subject, about letting knowledge come through you and touch something deep inside of you, changing you before you pass it on to others. It modifies how you deliver the message, because you are not just passing on knowledge, like participants do in a relay race; you are handing on something you have lived with and learned to love.

This morning, I was reading a story of Moses (see Numbers 20) where he was again caught between complaining people and a holy God. The issue this time was that they were out of water, so God told Moses to speak to a rock and water would come forth. Apparently, God's instructions were only partially received by the great leader, Moses, because instead of speaking to the rock, he chided the people and then struck the rock twice! Moses took what he believed was the message from God (anger and impatience) and delivered it rather vehemently to the people. Perhaps he wasn't listening all that closely to God and did not catch the whole message. Perhaps the message became only another package to be delivered, another complaint to respond to. Unfortunately, Moses seems somewhat disconnected from both God and the people in this story, because he does not listen carefully to God nor identify with the thirsty people.

This distancing meant that Moses stepped away from trusting God, from truly listening, responding, and obeying. He misread the message, adding his own interpretation, and ended up misrepresenting God. Moses' anger also meant that he had ceased to identify himself with the people he was leading, which was quite a change from the many times in the past when he had pleaded as an intercessor before God on their behalf. So God declared that Moses' time as a leader was coming to an end because he had lost that sense of being the meeting place between Truth and those he was leading. He had disengaged from both sides and become his own party, which is always a mistake.

As teachers and leaders, let us always listen closely to Truth, Wisdom, Love, Compassion, Mercy, Justice, and Grace. And let us never lose sight of the fact that we are one of the people, one of the learners, one of the followers. They are us and we are them. Let me have ears to hear what God is saying, and let knowledge always pass deeply through my life before I attempt to pass it on.

Photo from communities.canada.com.

getting down

2011-03-10T12:42:00.006-05:00

This morning, one of my facebook friends announced that he was uncluttering his "friend" list. He said that due to the sheer number of said "friends," he was finding himself overlooking the important people in his life. Never an easy position to be in - whittling life down to the truly important things. In an interesting twist, he has asked his many "friends" to purge themselves from his list. Are any of us that brave? That humble? To "defriend" and reject ourselves in order to assist our "friend?" It is an odd invitation, though I dare say, perhaps more familiar to us than we might realise.

Last night I led a discussion on humility. I took some of the core values from the Benedectine Order (one of my side research projects) and read a few stories to illustrate the foundational part that humility plays (or rather, should play) in our lives. Here are a few ideas that came out:

1. Listening. So often we are occupied with outside stimuli such as different media, work, music, entertainment, and people around us that even when we get alone for some quiet, our thoughts are not at rest. We are also relentlessly self-occupied. Benedictine monks set aside several hours each day to pray and let the scriptures flow through their minds. They do not merely respond and react to what is happening around them, but draw on the riches they cultivate deep in their soul. They listen to God. This in turn, enables them to be attune to the needs of others. There is a story of two people who were walking along a busy sidewalk in New York City. One of them stopped and said, "Listen. Do you hear that cricket?" The other was astounded. How could his companion hear a cricket in the din of the city? The listener explained. "We hear what we are trained to hear." He then dropped some money onto the street and immediately several people stopped and looked. [1] What are we training ourselves to hear?

2. Obedience. This is a rather harsh word to our modern ears. We prefer to speak of freedom, choice, and mutual respect. It reflects how little we know about humility, because by this subtle aversion to obedience and submission, we show that we consider ourselves to be the supreme authority in our own lives. A benevolent authority, perhaps, but supreme nonetheless. One day, the abbot at Blue Cloud Abbey told Brother Rene that he would be playing the organ to accompany the chanting of psalms in the service. Brother Rene no doubt informed the Abbot that he did not know how to play the organ, but the order from the Abbot remained. Rene was given two weeks to learn. He did. The community was well served by his music and worship, and visitors never guessed that he was a novice on the instrument.[1] This is obedience in action. It serves, it learns, it does not grumble at the tasks it is given. We will not discover what God can enable us to do if we don't venture into the territory of difficult obedience.

3. Lack of status. Our society is very much set up to honour and recognize different marks of status, so we spend a lot of energy not only acquiring or chasing these, but talking about them and flaunting them if we have them. Educational degrees, impressive resumes, designer clothing, contacts with important people, awards, number of hits on twitter or facebook, lucrative contracts, distinctions and recognitions we have garnered, etc. We splash them liberally into our interaction with others so that they recognize our value. Unfortunately, these things have nothing to do with value. Love is what makes us valuable, and we are all loved by God. A recent MBA graduate, asked by his employer to sweep the walk, reminded the superior of his status: "I have an MBA!" The employer responded, "No problem. I'll show you how to do it."[3] Status only hinders us in serving and loving. Let status fall away and let humility grow.

Welcome, humility! May you become a permanent resident instead of intermittent guest in my life.

This is a picture of Jazz taken from a walk last summer. She likes to get up high and see the world from that vantage point (it is how cats show dominance). Here, she climbed onto a ledge at the top of a garage and sat there, out of my reach. All I could do was take a picture until she decided it was time to come down.

[1] Story adapted from Dennis Okholm's Monk Habits for Everyday People (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2007), 49.
[2] Okholm, 65.
[3] Okholm, 105.

saying no

2011-03-03T15:12:00.006-05:00

As part of a call to prayer that our faith community is involved in, I am fasting this week. This means that I give something up (usually food) for a set time for a spiritual purpose. Fasting and prayer are ancient spiritual practices, often done in tandem, but their link is not always understood. Basically, I see it as two sides of the same discipline: fasting is saying no to myself and praying is saying yes to Jesus. One is meant to fuel the other.

A few years ago I heard somewhere that a square of dark chocolate a day is good for you, so I thought I would buy some and have it on hand so that I could nibble on a piece now and then. I also discovered the yumminess of Chai tea a few years ago, so now it seemed natural to have a piece of chocolate with my tea. While doing schoolwork or working on a writing project, I go through numerous cups of tea a day, and it became a habit that after I made my cup of tea, I would reach in the cupboard for the chocolate. What had begun as an occasional treat soon became a regular habit that I did without thinking. Feeling a bit hungry? Grab some chocolate! Need an energy boost? Grab some chocolate! Finished with your meal? Grab some chocolate! And then it came time for a fast. I decided to say no to all sweets in general and also late night snacking (I am notorious for not eating meals and snacking my way through life). The habits were not amused. They let me know that it would be better if we went back to the old way! They didn't appreciate being interrupted and put on hold. But my mind and my body and my spirit breathed in deeply and appreciated the open space.

So much of our lives are filled with actions that we do automatically. What started out as something we had to think about has now become ingrained in many cases. This can either work for us or against us. When I leave my house, I automatically put on my coat, then my boots, check for my gloves, put my phone in my purse, and lock the door. I usually don't have to think about it much. I also try to rise in the morning and fall asleep with thanksgiving and gratitude on my lips. I miss these things when I don't do them, and that's good! But if do something on an impulse (I think I'll put off my homework and go out with friends instead), it can easily become a habit. It might be good to evaluate where this might lead and see if it is indeed serving us or we are serving it.

Fasting is a great way of breaking out of the everyday habits we have accumulated over the months and years and checking to see whether they are hampering our spirits, weighing us down, or helping us say yes to Jesus. Let my YES continue to get bigger and bigger!

I took a photo of this piece of chocolate and then put it back in the cupboard. I will eat it next week...maybe.

when are you?

2011-03-01T14:22:00.006-05:00

I am not a big history fan. This can be a bit challenging when so much of what I am studying, especially this term, has to do with history. Some of my colleagues love the adventure that comes with a sense of the past, and historical details come easily to them. I tend to struggle a bit more with this linear way of looking at the world and have to make an effort to grasp the bigger picture. But there are other things I do see quite well, like the human element present in history and the impact of interesting personalities in our world. This is because I am basically a PRESENT person.

If you are a PAST person, you tend to think about what has happened. On the plus side of this, you would make a great history professor and can handle a great deal of information and detail about events with relative ease because the past is important and interesting to you. The past is also stable - it won't change - which, although it means that you can't alter it, also means that you are always dealing with something known. Of course, parts of history are somewhat fuzzy, open to interpretation and reinterpretation, and research can always reveal new information, but all in all, it is pretty concrete. It has brought us where we are today; it provides us with context. On the other hand, a person who likes the past might have a bit of difficulty dealing with the challenges of the present and the unpredictability of the future. Persons who emphasise the past can have a disinclination to move on, they can get stuck in a moment (as U2 put it in their song). Unforgiveness and bitterness can be some unfortunate side effects of focusing on the past. On the positive side of things, some great lessons and insights can be gleaned from the stories of those who have gone before us.

If you are a FUTURE person, you are most likely filled with hope. You are always waiting for the next exciting thing to happen. Who knows what could lie ahead? You could win the lottery tomorrow! You could meet the love of your life next week! You could get a fabulous job offer! There is so much to look forward to, indeed, but being a person who is always looking ahead can also mean that you fail to deal with the challenges of the present. Some people who are looking ahead are very diligent planners. This is a very good thing, though they sometimes get disappointed when things don't turn out according to plan. Others futurists are doomsayers, looking ahead with trepidation, seeing the road ahead getting rougher and rockier. For the most part, looking to the future is captivating because it is unknown. You can basically make up anything you want and it might happen! The great thing about forward-looking people is that they are always considering multiple possibilities. Unfortunately, the down-side to always having an eye on what's coming up is that you might miss out on what's happening right now.

I am a PRESENT person, I admit it. What is happening here and now is what I most relate to. Anything that calls for a spontaneous act in response to the opportunity and vibe of the moment is where I shine! The down side is that sometimes I don't think about the consequences of such acts. I can also forget to consult the wealth of information that is available to me in order to put today's spontaneity into context and infuse it with wisdom. I try not to live in expectation of the future or in disappointment with the past, which has its pros and cons. Realism and contentment are the pros. Hopelessness and ignorance are the cons. The PRESENT person might also find themselves unprepared for some very tough situations, and simply relying on their 'go with it' skills might not be enough.

It seems likely that everyone has a tendency towards one of these, and for good reason, because we need all of these perspectives (I need some good PAST people to help ground me and some hopeful FUTURE people to help me see where I am going). A whole bunch of PRESENT people makes a great improv group, but not a good financial advice company. A room full of PAST people can clean up in any trivia game, but don't ask them to be at the forefront of change. The FUTURE folks can produce an inspiring sci-fi movie, but would no doubt lose patience with a group therapy session working through issues.

I am working on developing my PAST and FUTURE skills, but I know my strength is in the PRESENT, and I want to bring everything I can to it (spoken like a true PRESENT person!).

Jesus said, "I'm A to Z. I'm The God Who Is, The God Who Was, and The God About to Arrive. I'm the Sovereign-Strong." (Revelation 1:8, The Message) Thankfully, he's got all of time covered, so I can always look to him for a bigger perspective and trust him with what I don't comprehend. Yes, may he be Lord of my past, my present, and my future, and may I view all of these in light of Him.

This is a picture of the stairway in the lobby of the W Hotel in Montreal taken on Saturday night. I love their inviting and mysterious nature.

knock knock

2011-02-23T13:11:00.004-05:00

It has been a week where death has knocked on my door a few times. In our culture, death is usually relegated to bad guys who meet their messy, but just, end on the big screen, or found in statistics that are for the most part distant and therefore, somewhat meaningless, or just some unfortunate incident on the news. This week, it was different.

First came a phone call from my mother on Sunday night informing me that her brother had died. Something in her opening sentence, "I don't have any more brothers," painfully reflected the hollowness that death leaves behind. Yesterday, one of our colleagues in the family of Vineyard Canada (our church affiliation) was killed in Africa in an accident while on a year-long adventure and humanitarian aid trip with his young family. The images from a devastating earthquake in Christchurch yesterday just added to the sense of loss and being lost.

This week I was reading a book on the metro in which the writer said that if he gets to heaven, he has a question he wants to ask God. His was about giraffes, but others often indicate that same desire to ask some variation of "Why?" when they finally encounter the Omniscient One. Personally (and from some reading I have done of respected ancient texts), I believe one's first response when coming into contact with the otherness of Holiness is usually to fall down in terror, worship and gape in awe, or be rendered speechless. Questions are not at the top of the list of activities in the presence of God, it seems.

Nevertheless, this week has unsettled me and left me wondering. The question I have is not why but what now? How does one move forward after death has visited? How does one live honestly and well, yet with joy and spontaneity? How does one open their heart to compassion without having it break continuously? How does one stop fear and death from becoming bigger than love and life? I don't know the answers. They can only be answered in the living out of life and for me, by letting the day to day deadly despondency be washed away under the waterfall of grace.

In the end, it is not I who ask the questions of God; it is he who asks: "Do you trust me?" May I say yes before I have complete understanding, before I know everything I feel I need to know, and before doubt creeps in and makes a malignant nest.

I raise a glass to the breath of life (inspiration) infused into me by the lives of Uncle Pete and Mr. Hall. You made and continue to make my life richer.

This is a photo of a wall hanging that I came across in a day care for underprivileged families on my visit to South Africa in 2006.