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Andre's Blog

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Benched
benched.jpgIf you watch any sport enough, you are bound to see it.  A coach benches a player for making a mistake in the game.  Sometimes it happens after a player makes the same mistake for the fifth or sixth time, sometimes all it takes is one error.

I think the worst scenario in sports is when a coach puts a young kid in the lineup, then benches him or her for making one mistake.  I saw this a couple of weeks ago.  I went to a JR A hockey game.  Due to injuries, one of the teams called up a kid from their farm team to fill a roster spot.  In the first period, this rookie, a defenseman, turned the puck over at his own blue-line while trying to clear the zone.  The turnover led to a shot on net, which the goalie stopped. After the whistle, the coach put the rookie on the end of the bench and left him there the rest of the game.  The kid had one shift, had made a mistake at the end of an otherwise strong showing, and never saw the ice again.

I’ve seen this happen in the church as well.  We seem to have no time to allow someone to grow into a position, or make mistakes in ministry.  If someone does not excel immediately, then that “must not be their spiritual gift area”.  They get benched by whoever does the benching, and that area of ministry will be a closed door to them as long as they are in that church.  I’ve had this happen to me more than once by a board member. Often with a response that in ministry, “the stakes are too high for us to have mistakes.”  I am sure they were quoting some pundit or preacher with that line.  My response?  Horse droppings!

The view that ministry is NFL football, that its high stakes poker or a special ops mission, reveals a shockingly small view of God.  Can’t the God of grace execute his holy plan for humanity, the church, and the individual, without being thwarted by our mistakes and shortcomings?  I think, in fact, that He has worked our failings into the equation of life.

I’ve heard it described as a composer of music who is also the orchestra conductor.  When one of the performers hits a wrong note, the composer, on the fly, is able to rewrite the score so that the piece is still beautiful, and still achieves the original goal. This does not mean that we should do ministry with a callous or careless attitude, but with a view to do well to honour God. I just don't think God benches us in ministry for making a mistake.

All too often in professional sports, I see athletes who have a shocking lack of character picked up by team after team because they can execute on the field, court, or ice.  In the church, I have seen this as well.  Someone with an appalling track record in the character department is left as the “go to” person in a ministry because their skills are refined.  I would rather a church equip people for ministry who demonstrate growing character, than rely on someone with the skills, but not quality of the soul.

If you are in leadership position, how quickly do you bench someone for making a mistake? Do you allow room for growth?  Also, if you are in a leadership position, do you keep going to the same people with failed character just because they have more refined skills?  I wonder what would happen if we gave God more room to be God in the lives of those who minister in our churches, not only in the area of ministry skills, but also in ministry character.
It's Your Kindness Lord...
Kindnesslord.jpgThis past Sunday at the River, Matt, one of our awesome worship-in-music leaders took us through "Kindness", a worship song by Chris Tomlin.

The song takes its title from a line in the chorus, "Its your kindness Lord, that leads us to repentance...".  I have heard the song so many times, but it was just on Sunday that the truth of that line hit me.  Does God's kindness lead us to repentance?

From a New Testament perspective, this seems to make sense.  Jesus' death on the cross, to clear away our sin and to make a way possible to relationship with God sure does sound like kindness to me.  But what about the Old Testament?

If you would believe the detractors, the Old Testament is all about a vengeful, wrathful, petty "god", who kills on a whim, destroys whole cities, endorses genocide, and probably kicks puppies too.  If it was a Western, the "god" of the Old Testament would be wearing the black hat.  That garden snake at the beginning of the book seems almost endearing in comparison to the "big bad ugly god", the feckless thug, the school yard bully, the petulant and alternately disinterested character.  He makes Zeus of Greek mythology seem downright adorable.  Ya, that "god".

Yet, what message does he send with Moses to the slaves in Egypt?  "I have heard your cries; I am your God."  What does he say to David?  "A man after my own heart."  And, how about the ultimate test- what message does he send to Israel when they have turned their backs on him?  Lets spend some time on this one.

Israel is broken into two kingdoms- the north and the south. The divided country is at war externally and internally.  The glory days of David and Solomon are over, and the country is quickly taking major steps backward.  And then the people turn on God because He is not living up to their expectations.  They turn to other gods, especially Ashera and Baal, the main female and male cult gods of the region.  And God's heart is broken.  Does he put on his black hat and wipe the little _____'s out?  The surprising answer is no, at least surprising if you believed the negative spin doctors.

This so-called vengeful God doesn't "nuke" them right into the lake of fire.  His message, relayed by the prophets of the day,  was one of pleading.  I've been studying the prophets lately, and I keep seeing the same communication from each prophet.

"Israel, you have broken God's heart.  Remember how good he was to you?  He gave you the gifts of life and freedom.  He gave you water, fields, sun and rain.  He didn't ask for your firstborn children- he asked for your heart, your souls.  The path you are headed on is a bad one, Israel.  Turn back to God, or your neighbours will come in and hurt you.  God can't protect those who don't love Him. He can do it; your hearts won't accept it!  And when you do turn back, there will be joy unlike anything you have experienced in a long time. And there will be peace. You ask Ashera and Baal for good growing seasons and protection this year from your enemies, and in exchange you kill your babies on their altars!  I'm offering you temporal purpose and eternal life, and all I want is to live among you as a friend, as a father. I want to reveal myself to the world through you.  Come home Israel.  Come home."

I find the same message pattern in all the Old Testament books penned by "the prophets". Statement of Israel's unfaithfulness,  reminder of God's goodness, warning of future pain, promise of God's goodness again.  Its Jesus' parable of the prodigal son lived out over and over again in Israel's history.  Maybe Jesus was talking about Israel, and not each one of us.  Maybe he was talking about both.

"Your kindness Lord, leads us to repentance..."  It certainly does.
The Power of Invitation- Come and See!
glasses 2.jpgOn Sunday morning, we started pursuing “The Power of Invitation” in earnest.  The first invitation of Jesus we looked at was from John 1:35-42:

35 The next day again John was standing with two of his disciples,36 and he looked at Jesus as he walked by and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God!” 37 The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. 38 Jesus turned and saw them following and said to them, “What are you seeking?” And they said to him, “Rabbi” (which means Teacher), “where are you staying?” 39 He said to them,“Come and you will see.” So they came and saw where he was staying, and they stayed with him that day, for it was about the tenth hour.40 One of the two who heard John speak and followed Jesus2 was Andrew, Simon Peter's brother. 41 He first found his own brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which means Christ). 42 He brought him to Jesus. Jesus looked at him and said,“You are Simon the son of John. You shall be called Cephas”(which means Peter).

Two of our groups were given the following exploration exercises:

Group 1:
Send out a series of “tweets” based on the passage, written from the perspective of the two disciples (don’t forget the #hashtags!)

What they came up with:


@johnthebaptist
4:00pm  “Lost some followers today to the Lamb of God!” #jobcompleted #preparingtheway

@andrew
4:00pm @andrew is now following @JesusMessiah

@otherdisciple
4:00pm @otherdisciple is now following @JesusMessiah

@JesusMessiah
4:02pm “Things are getting crowded around here.” #theway

@andrew
4:30pm “Found the Messiah! Can’t wait to tell you about Him!” #theway #recruiting

@Simon_sonofjohn
6:00pm Simon_sonofjohn has changed his name to “Cephas_Peter” #theway



Group 3:
Brainstorm ideas how we can open our lives to others like Jesus did in this passage.

Here’s what they came up with:


-Join us at the River!

-Home is open anytime- meal, just come to chat, help, join in daily routines

-Transparency/ Honesty- even in hard times, show how you handle those times
         -share, show
         -post stuff around the house

-Personal spiritual life + community
         -we need a balance
         -one supports the other

-Create traditions
        -road hockey, community picnic, making preserves, frequent the town square and make friends, adults and kids together, PARTY!

Hear others’ stories
    -good listening skills, go see what others do (art show, sports, kid’s stuff) sit with others, be available to see and hear

Persistence
    -selflessness, trust God and wait, see the BIg Picture- it could take time
    -simple things are important
    -be ready to “be there” at the right time


Summary for this Group:
-Build community
-Transparency
-Be intentional- Work!
-Selflessness
-Be ready, trustworthy, optimistic, have a word or verse
-Be salt and light

____________
Thank you to everyone who contributed to above!
The Little Apple Tree
Apple tree.jpgOnce upon a time an apple tree grew by the side of the road.  One year, just as summer was coming to a close and the autumn was about to begin, the branches of the apple tree became filled with the ripest, most appealing fruit anyone had ever seen.

Travelers along the road would stop and help themselves to an apple or two, often finding rest in the shade of the tree.  No one would take too many apples- just enough to use as a snack or perhaps a small pie.  There were plenty of apples for everyone. Not one apple went to waste, and the little accidental tree by the side of the road brought many people much joy.

Soon summer turned to fall, and fall to a bitter, long and cold winter.  The little apple tree by the side of the road suffered through the winter.  When spring’s first light spilled onto the little apple tree by the side of the road, it was still alive, but much injured by the season of cold.  It bravely grew and healed all through the beautiful summer, but it just wasn’t what it had been.  

When that summer was about to turn to fall once again, the little apple tree by the side of the road brought forth fruit.  But this year, the apples were small, and there were not as many.  The sick little tree had given all it had to give.

Travelers along the road saw the fruit of the little tree, but most just passed by, deeming the apples too small to bother to pick.  Soon the little apples fell to the ground and rotted.  No one enjoyed the fruit of the little apple tree that year.  All of its apples went to waste.

Verily verily I say unto you, the church of God is like a little apple tree that grew by the side of the road.
The Power of Invitation- Now @ The River
Chasing Butterflies III
empty_cage.jpg
Please read "Chasing Butterflies I" for the context of this poem.


















"The Empty Cage"


The butterfly, once caged, is dead.
Life, cut short.
Work, fear, apathy, and want.
Slowly starved, the fragile wings
    fly and flutter and float no more.
The butterfly is dead.
Chasing Butterflies II
butterfly1.jpg
Please read "Chasing Butterflies I" for the context of this poem.


















Butterflies
         Whispy wings of blue and grey
         Fragile legs like filaments glow
         Tickling the bars of the cage.

Butterflies
          Caged not in iron and steel
          Caged in stomach and bile
          Feelings flutter. Gone, now here.

Butterflies
          Lost, to time and age
          Wings, that fly no more
          Eros' food. Gone. Now sour to the taste.

Where have the butterflies gone?

Butterflies
          Chased, in the dark of a deserted road
          Chased, in the stale sheets of a rented bed
          Chased, in dusty halls. Now long dead.
Chasing Butterflies I
chasing_buttefly.jpgA friend of mine wrote to me recently about the trip he took with his family across the continent to the West Coast.  A highlight of the trip for him was a visit to a butterfly sanctuary.  He described butterflies with wings of every imaginable colour and pattern, and even one butterfly with a one foot wing span.  I can’t wait to see his pictures on Flickr!

Last week-end I officiated at a family wedding in my hometown, in my old home church.  The theme of the wedding- you guessed it- was love.  I had five minutes for a charge to the couple.  Usually, this time in a wedding ceremony is used to remind all present of the value and importance of marriage, the choice it is to love, and that marriage is not just a contract, but a covenant.  I have two pretty standard messages that I use, but decided to go a different direction at this wedding.  I wrote a story (it should be in the blog stream right next to this one).

These two seemingly random occurrences in my life- an email from a dear friend, and officiating at a wedding- have been bouncing around my mind a lot.  I’ve been thinking about how fragile and dangerous love really is.  Fragile because it can be broken in a moment; dangerous because of the risk one takes in loving another flawed human being.  

A typical romantic love- lets use the word “eros”- starts off with chemistry. What we call butterflies in the stomach.  In college, I learned that some key danger points in marriage come at the one, seven, fifteen, and twenty year marks.  If a couple can get past twenty-five years, they usually go the distance.  Somewhere in there, whether its in the first year, or at the fifteen year mark, one or both people in a marriage lose the butterflies.  A trusted counselor of mine told me recently that eros love disappears, and for most people, will never return.  To get those butterflies back, one has to move on to another relationship.

I think marriages break because one or both people are still chasing butterflies. This is evidence of a lack of maturity.  For some reason, we lock in on love being about the excitement of new love. I can’t be middle aged and think that my marriage relationship should be like what a teenager feels.  See how often teens breakup?  Then you get my point.  There is a deeper, richer, more mature love that helps marriages go the distance.  Two loves actually.

The first, in the ancient Greek, is called agapeAgape is a sacrificial love.  Its the love Jesus had for us as he went to the cross.  Its the love that causes a parent to stay up all night with a sick child.  Its the love the moves someone to give an organ to a dying family member.  Its the love that says the other person is more important than I am.  Eros love is selfish.  Its about how I feel about you.  Eros is so closely related to pornea love (we get the word pornography from that Greek word) that they are often confused.  Pornea sneaks into a life, kills eros, and replaces it, and it takes years for the person to notice.

The second we’ll call philo love.  This is a brotherly love.  We get the city of brotherly love, Philadelphia, in part from this word. (Side note: Is Philly really that loving?  Its the type of city that boos its own sports teams.  At Eagles and Phillies games, the bleacher crowds will throw batteries to express their displeasure. Yikes!  Just sayin’...)  Philo love is again focused on the other.  Its the love one has for a best friend, a sibling, a coworker.  Its the love that keeps us from stealing somebody else’s lunch from the work fridge. Its the love that keeps society from falling into total chaos, at least ideally (again, I reference Philadelphia here.  Have you seen their parking authority in action?  Yikes again!).

So, if eros is destined to fade away as we age, what are we to do?  Well, a lot of people miss the “excitement” of the early days of their relationship, and decide to go chase butterflies. In other words, have an affair..  All because someone wanted to relive their teen years.  Yikes!   

Another approach, especially for men, is to replace eros with pornea.  We seek out ever more explicit representations of the sex act to “scratch the itch”.  Ultimately self-defeating, this road leads a broken relationship as well.

Others will just disengage emotionally from the marriage relationship.  They are willing to stay, for a while at least, but their bitterness and anger grow daily.  It must be their partner’s fault for their lack of “butterflies”.  “She’s gained weight” (after popping out a few kids for you, you jerk. You’re welcome); “He’s lost his hair”.  “She’s doesn’t wear sexy clothes anymore”; “He leaves his shirt off at home” (ew).  You get the picture.  Next stop- Splitsville, baby.

Then you have the couple that are able to transition from an eros based attraction, to an agape and philo based relationship.  These people stay married until death.  What’s the secret?  In my experience, these are couples that are honest, nurturing people who leave selfishness at the door.  These are not people who necessarily have it all together.  I’ve met very relationally content alcoholic couples that went the distance.  Also couples touched with mental illness that made it work.

When I was a teenager, I dated.  The longest relationship I had was about 18 months.  It ended because I totally screwed it up.  She was such a nice girl. (C- if you ever read this- I am SO sorry.)  My family was so angry with me when we split up!  They wanted to keep her and ditch me for a second!  

That long 18 month relationship as a teen is nothing compared to the almost 18 years I have been with my wife.  18 months is a drop in the bucket.  Why do we keep trying to run our marriages like our teen relationships?  When are we going to grow up, be adults, and think of the other first?  When are we going to stop chasing butterflies?
Searching for Love
seraching_flower.jpgThere once was a young man who wanted to find love. He went to his father and asked, "Father. It is time for me to marry.  I greatly desire to have the same love you and mother have shared all these years.  Where can I find it?"

The man's father thought on this question for a while, and answered with a smile. "My son, to find love, I must send you on a journey to complete several tasks."

After the father instructed the son, the young man set out to complete his father's tasks.   

First, he found his way into a quiet field beside a bubbling stream. He sat there for an entire day, as his father told him to do.  At the end of the day, perplexed by what he was supposed to learn, the young man moved on.   

The next day, he sat down by a familiar road. As the day wore on, the young man greeted travelers as they passed by.  From time to time, someone would ask for help, and he would point them in the right direction. Once, an old woman fell and her cart tipped over, and the young man helped her.

At the end of the second day, the young man returned to his father, angry and confused. "Father, why did you have me waste two days like that?  What did that have to do with love?" The father only smiled.

"My son, what did you hear in the field?". Surprised by the question, the young man thought for a moment then answered, "All I heard were the birds of the air, and the insects of the ground, the wind in the trees, and the flowing water in the brook. I didn't hear anything!"

The father asked a second question. "And my son, what did you see as you sat along the road?". Again, the son thought for a moment, "Father, all I saw were the faces of lost people needing directions. And the frightened face of the old woman who fell. I saw nothing!"

The father let his son's words hang in the air between them for a moment. "My son, in the field, you learned to listen to the quietness of this world. On the road, you learned to recognize people in need of help.  As you sat these last two days, you learned your need for patience.  Listening, kindness and patience.  These things are love. Find these qualities in yourself and in the one you would marry, and you will find love.

When the Past Comes Back to Bite You in the Ass.
donkey.jpgWhen I was a young child- 4 or 5- I got beaten pretty bad. It left me with a skull fracture.  Apart from that, I had a pretty idyllic childhood for someone growing up in a single parent home.  Stability at home, great family, school was fine (some of the people were jerks, but who doesn’t deal with stuff like?), then a part-time job.

A typical day for me went something like this:

5:00am- Wake up
5:30am- Swim Practice
7:30am- Home for breakfast and school stuff
9am-3pm- School
4pm- Paper Route
5:30pm- Swim Practice
7:30pm- Supper and Homework
9pm- Bed.

Note: I had an awesome paper route- it was a 10 story apartment building! Sweet!

I lifeguarded as a teenager, and eventually went off to University and College.  All in all, a pretty good early life.

In seminary, I took a fair number of psychology and counseling courses. It was there I found out how potentially damaging the abuse I suffered could be.  I remember having a long talk with my sister on the phone during that time, commenting on our “dysfunctional” family.  I made the comment, “If that was dysfunctional, then I don’t want normal.” My sister, who is a bit older than I am, and wiser than her years, didn’t quite agree.  “Never underestimate the hold loss can have on your life.” I didn’t take her comment to heart.

Fast forward twenty years.  I’m struggling in a number of areas in my life, and then it hits me like a ton of bricks- BAM!  The past comes out of (seemingly) no where and levels me emotionally and spiritually. It really did bite me in the ass, and would not let go!

It manifested itself in every insecurity I had around work, marriage, parenthood and self-esteem.  Obviously I’m not going to go into detail on all this stuff.  But I have to note, I underestimated the hold loss had on my life.

With help, I’m putting the pieces back together.  I know lots of people who have had it way harder than I have- my particular case is probably garden variety or less.  But please, if you have read this far, do not underestimate the hold loss can have on your life!  It can add huge stress to your relationships and your emotions! It took me almost 40 years to reconcile what happened to me as a child. Notice that I did not use the word victim in describing myself or what happened to me.  That is because I save that word for people who went through a lot more than my sad little story.  Instead of stuffing things down, ignoring them, or thinking they don’t matter because “you are stronger” that most people, take my advice!  Those coping mechanisms delay the inevitable, and probably make things harder in the long run.

What is making a real difference in my life right now is that God has given me a new future in Jesus Christ, a new present and purpose through the Holy Spirit, and access to healing for my past.  Not a bad deal.  He’s seeking relationship with each of us- we need only respond through Jesus to have access to more healing resources than we could ever have imagined!  

Now, how to get rid of these teeth marks...
Remnant
remnants.jpgFrom my teen years into my early twenties, I had the privilege to be part of competitive lifeguarding teams.  If you are unfamiliar with competitive lifeguarding, it is a “sport” where teams are judged on speed, fitness, victim care, and the art of lifeguarding in general.  If you are part of the culture of lifegaurding, these competitions are awesome!   I look back on those days with fondness.

To get an edge, each team would usually build their own equipment, personalized to enhance the teams’ strengths, and minimize its weaknesses.  The teams with which I trained would build spinal boards, and design splints, bandages and wraps.  This meant that we would frequent lumber yards and fabric stores looking for supplies.  One of the special moments in my life was receiving one fabric store’s “Gold Card” for being a regular shopper.  I’m sure I was the only male with one in the city!

In the fabric store, I would frequent the remnants bin because of our team’s tight budget. One year all of our triangular bandages were neon colours!  Thank you remnants bin! The remnant bin was filled with leftover scraps of material.  Usually not enough to do anything useful with, the material was still of good quality, just not great quantity.

Ever feel like a remnant piece?  Not enough of you to be useful, too small to make a difference to any project?  I’ve felt like that.  Scraps.

Some recent events have me contemplating those feelings of “scrap-ness”, and I’m beginning to rethink my view of the whole subject.

If I try to be a huge piece of fabric, like a blanket or a sheet, I’m trying to cover everything in my life by myself.  No wonder I continually feel unequal to the task.  I’ve been thinking a quilt approach to life makes more sense.  If I’m part of a quilt- a community, a family, a work team- then I can really focus on my areas of responsibility. The other people in my quilt can do their thing, and if I feel a little stretched, I’ve got people right beside me who can, and often want, to help.

Just because some person or group has thrown me in the remnant bin, I don’t have to stay there!  I don’t have to remain alone, over-stretched and feeling too thin to live life well. I don’t need to feel inadequate.  

I think God can take the whole bunch of us in the remnant bin, and sew us together to be a strong quilt.  This is the beginning of community.  The problem is, we need to trust other people to help us when we need help.  That can be hard, largely due to our own pride and stubbornness.  We must also be ready to respond to others in our remnant family when they are in need. This means setting aside selfishness and putting the other first.

Torn?  Thread-bare?  Feeling over-stretched and too thin?  Allow God to sew yourself into a community quilt.  Take the risk. It will change your life.

Disappointment
disappointment.jpgIn the lead up to last weekend, much was mentioned about Harold Camping's prediction of the rapture that was supposed to happen on Saturday.  I do not want to add my voice to chorus of mockers and scoffers, often from within "evangelical" circles, that used the circumstances to exhibit (once again) an all too familiar smug attitude.

(A quick note to those Christian bullies: So you were right.  Did picking on a 90 year old man and his followers make you feel good about yourself?  Read Deuteronomy 18:18-22, then Psalm 1.)

I find myself a little sad for Camping and those who are part of his ministry.  Many threw away their life savings, if the reports are to be believed, and Camping himself staked his reputation on his prediction (again).  This whole group of people are dazed and confused. God did not live up to their faith expectations.

Have you ever felt like that, a little lost, because God did not live up to your expectations?  It has happened to me.  The fundamentalist faith first preached to me had more to do with Reformational wrangling than the Bible.  The purpose-driven, seeker-sensitive model of church placed upon me in ministry borrowed more from the business world than the Bible.  See where I'm going here?  Even the current circles in Christendom within which I travel now can be more about not being some kind of church, rather than being some kind of church.

I am beginning to wrap my mind- and my faith- around what God is like.  Its as though I had an image of God in my head, but that image ended up having my Pastor's face on it- or Rick Warren's, or Bill Hybels', or NT Wright's, or Rob Bell's, or---- you get the idea.  As I look into the Old Testament, I see an image of God with someone else's face on it is an idol.  Anyone up for telling a hardcore fundamentalist that he is an idolater?  Ouch.

I am thankful that as I get older, I seem to be coming to a greater awareness of God.  I think He wants us to foster a spirit of humility, hope, and joy, as we live lives of compassion, the awareness of the needs of others.  I think He wants us to put Him and others first. I think He wants us to be forgiving, not only because he forgave us through Christ, but because its healthy.  I think He not only loves us, I think He likes us too.  And I think that all these lines we draw of "who's in", and "who's out", is more about our own fears and prejudices, than it is about right and wrong.   I think God wants our very souls to be overcome with love.

And if the very center of who each of us is overcome with love, then we can accurately say, that we are raptured- lifted up by God to a higher plane of living.  Maybe we can have a prelude of heaven right here, and right now.  Then, just possibly, we'll live up to God's expectations.
Scar
Scar.jpgAn accident scarred me for life when I was four.  It was family picture day, and I was in the bath tub getting scrubbed clean by my oldest sister.  We were to meet my mother at the photo place after she finished work, and we were on a schedule!  As Jo Ann did what she could to get the grime off me (I was an active child- lots of playing outside!), my other sister Tammy came into the bathroom to get ready.  

Somehow, a glass had been left on the sink.  Tammy accidentally brushed it, and it fell into the bathtub, breaking into large shards. One of those shards cut my knee, and it bled!

Now, looking back, the blood was not that bad, but I screamed the way only a four year old can when his sister obviously tried to murder him.  Jo Ann scooped me up into a towel and ran with me down the street to my grandparents house.  Once there, my grandmother was able to calm everyone down and stop the bleeding. The wound needed no stitches, and the picture taking went off without (further) problems.  But the scar is still there.

Over the years of retelling the story, my family has found humour, and even joy, in the incident.  A fourteen year old Jo Ann with her hands full taking care of her younger siblings, a single working mom trying to give the family some sense of normalcy, and a screaming, bleeding, naked four year old all seem funny now.  There’s magic in there somewhere.

How do you turn a scar into a story?  Personal pain into a party?  I know, these concepts seem mutually exclusive.  Are they oxymora or just dichotomous?  But somehow, healing and hope meet at the intersection of scar and celebration.

I have had the grim responsibility of officiating at too many funerals.  Some of these funerals have been terribly sad, like the suicide of a teenager, and others a real celebration of a life fully lived, like the woman in her late 90’s who finally succumbed to the Alzheimer's that had stolen her away from her family years before. The saddest funerals give me great concern, but when I’m at a wake where there is laughter, I think the mourners will come out the other end of their grief “OK”.

How do you do it?  How do you take a past pain point and turn it into celebratory healing.  I guess it depends on the person’s personality.  Some folks just do this naturally, and they are usually the people who are happiest, less likely to have heart attacks.  Others, the bitter, the negative, the super-pessimists, couldn’t celebrate a lottery win even on their birthday.  These folks usually have their heart attacks in middle age, and those who survive turn a corner and live differently.

I have a huge scar on my soul from past ministry pain.  I’m afraid it defines me.  It’s taken me years just to come to terms with it.  A few years of running away from it, another year of stuffing it down deep, and another year of having it slap me in the face daily has shown just how lousy I am at dealing with it.  Now I’m looking to grab hold of some of that natural health my family had when we were altogether growing up.  How do celebrate this pain?

Well, first, I’m still walking.  I still get out of bed every day.  Setting aside the quality of the day, I have kept the wheels turning.  Sometimes God can do a lot if we just keep showing up.

Next, while my inclination is to want to see the downfall of those people who hurt me, I need to honestly want to them to succeed in life.  And I need to pray to that end, whether I want to or not.  In this case, equal parts of prayer and lament will open my soul to God so He can do a work in me.

And finally, I need to realize that those people didn’t hurt me.  I hurt me. I hurt me. Once the blaming and excuses disappear, the souls clouds lift, and the sunshine of joy can beam radiant and warm.

I can’t say I am an expert in all of this, or have mastered these concepts.  There are still three or four people I would have trouble having a pleasant conversation with, but that list used to be longer. A dear friend of me once told me that I need to have a holy disconcern about certain things in life.  I’ve learned new implications of what that means for me in these last years.  I’m past the stage of wanting to throw a glass at them, anyway!  

God, I'm Sick of Christians...
hammer.jpgCertain Christians, anyway...

I've had an experienced truth reinforced for me of late- Christians are way more judgmental than Jesus ever was.  I know that is painting with a broad brush, and no, not every Christian is like that, but I'm talking about something, so hang on, OK?

How did Jesus deal with the woman at the well (John 4)?  He introduced himself, and within five minutes, she was out telling everybody about him.  How about the woman caught in adultery, surrounded by a crowd of men with stones in their hands, ready to kill her?  Jesus writes a few things in the dirt, asks a question, and then refuses to condemn her when everyone leaves.  The only people I see Jesus hammering with judgments are the religious leaders of the day. In that way, he and John the Baptist had the same ministry.

In ministry, I've seen a few doozies.  A woman takes it up herself to preach fire and brimstone the gay couple who decided to come to church.  Think that couple ever came back?  Think preacher-woman really cared if they did?  

Or how about the church that publicly rebuked an unmarried, cohabiting couple (that was only checking out the church for a few weeks), because they were unmarried and living together.  They never even claimed to be Christians, yet this church hammered them from the pulpit.

No wonder people outside the church look at Christians and think (or say), "What a bunch of hypocritical, judgmental, jerks!"  And you know who agrees them?  Jesus.  He went after the religious of his day.  Hammered them seemingly every chance he got. "Hey Nicodemus, you're Israel's teacher and you don't know this stuff?"  Ouch.  "You brood of vipers!"  That was Jesus in Matthew 12, not John the Baptist.  Ouch again.

Here's a little challenge for you.  If you are part of a church, how welcome would certain people be made in your congregation?  Let's see, who does the church particularly dislike right now?  There are so many to choose from.....

In my early days of ministry, those who drank alcohol, smoked, gambled, were not welcome.  It was beyond thought in that church that someone who did the above could actually love Jesus.  Or currently, the culture war the Americans are fighting between church and the homosexual community.  (We had a brief side skirmish up here in Canada, but that was dealt with and we moved on.)  How welcome would a gay couple feel in your church?  On Sunday morning?  I know this is highly theoretical, because few from that community would show up at church, because we set ourselves up as their enemy, and often, they agree.  If we take Jesus' teaching to heart, and literally, it means we as followers are not allowed to consider anyone our enemies, let alone act that way.

So, what would happen if a gay couple showed up at your church on Sunday morning, and kept coming back?  With their kids in nursery and Sunday School, they start to make themselves at home.  I can tell you what would happen.  First option, someone in the congregation would take it upon himself to have "a talk" with them.  And he'd likely feel great about himself for pointing out the error of their ways.  He probably even quotes the Bible to them!  

Option two, in the absence of anyone in the congregation with "the guts" to have "the talk" with this gay couple, the pastor would receive several phone calls from "concerned" members of the congregation.  They too would invoke passages from the Bible, and likely bring up the ringer, "What about our children?".  This would force the pastor to go have "the talk" with the couple in question, or risk being labelled "soft on homosexuality" and losing his job.  

Option three?  A particularly cowardly preacher would address the issue from the pulpit, in general terms.  The message would still get though, but without one having to ‘sully’ themselves in a face to face conversation.  

Option four has the more suspicious minded in the congregation thinking this is a a plot by some radical pro-homosexual group, with designs to take over or destroy the church from the inside.  This would likely overlap with some or all of options one through three, ending in some pastoral blood-letting or a church split, or both.  Tell me I'm wrong.

Jesus had twelve disciples.  In that group was a terrorist, a tax collector, and a thief.  Everyone who knows their Bible just shouted, "Former terrorist!  Ex- tax collector!"  True.  But both of those followers needed an encounter with Jesus before they became ‘former’ and ‘ex’ anything.  I guess evangelicals think church is a lousy place to have an encounter with Jesus. That's ancient gnosticism rebranded with a great worship team, by the way.

Now, what to do about the thief.  Judas was dipping into the group's change purse, and yet Jesus kept him around.  It seems that Jesus didn't say a word to him about it, rather he just kept building a relationship with Judas, teaching him and including him in ministry.  There's something to think about.

Please note, I think equating our hypothetical gay couple with Judas is ugly and a real disservice.  I think Judas better represents Christians, who steal God's grace away from others with judgmental attitudes.  

So, what is the Jesus model here?  With regular, everyday folks, grace and kindness and relationship building is prescribed.  With the religious?  Hammer them.
The Play
octopus.jpgOnce upon a time, a group of undersea friends decided to present a play for the King of the Sea. The play would be about life, and the King and hope- it would be wonderful!  

So they divided up the jobs- one would write, one would direct, many would act, others would build the scenery, and still others would advertise and prepare the theater.  Much enthusiasm was expressed, and everyone involved was excited.

Involved in this production were dolphins, and lobsters and fish of every imaginable stripe and colour.  Also part of the team was an octopus.

Now the octopus was the most talented of all the undersea creatures working on the play.  With its eight arms, and years of experience and training, its natural gifts and its boundless energy, the octopus seemed to be everywhere in the production.  The octopus would go to the script writing meetings, and would have such great ideas, and be so enthusiastic, that all the other creatures at the meeting were carried along with its ideas and directions.

The octopus also attended the director's meetings, and the rehearsals, and the scenery meetings, and even the advertising meetings.  Its tentacles were in every meeting that had to do with the play.  No one minded at first, because the octopus was such a strong leader, and had great ideas, and lots of enthusiasm and energy, they went with the flow.

If someone was assigned an area to work on between meetings, the octopus would track them down to give them input, because an idea had occurred to it.

Soon, the joy of the project started disappearing for most of the fish involved.  The director couldn't direct because all of its ideas were overwhelmed by the octopus and what it had to say.  All of the octopus' ideas were good, and it was a hard worker, so no one could fault it, but the octopus was so involved in everything, no one else was able to really put their stamp on things.  

The cast and crew started to lose passion for the play.  They waited for the octopus to lead and do in every area, because they knew it would.  This left the octopus frustrated and angry. It felt that it was left to do all the work, and that no one else really cared.  So the octopus worked even harder.  It's work was excellent- it really was talented and smart and more capable than any of the other undersea creatures.

As the night for the grand performance came close, the other creatures in the play started to drift away.  There was nothing of them in the production to present to the King.

The scenery was done- finished at the last minute by the octopus. The tickets were sold- the ticket window having been manned by the octopus.  The script was polished- by the octopus.  The King arrived, and was greeted with beautiful coral by, you guessed it, the octopus.  Everyone was seated- ushered to their seats by the octopus.  The lights were dimmed, the curtain was raised- both by the octopus.  And the play began.

The octopus played all the parts in the play. The confused audience looked to their programs- designed and printed by the octopus- to see what was going on.  The performance went on.  It was well done, for what it was, and the octopus' acting was excellent.  But it was not what it could have been.  Although the octopus excelled in every area in which it worked, the play failed because it became more about the octopus than the play, or the King.

After the small, polite applause that followed the end of the play, the King went backstage to talk to the octopus.  He found it sweeping the floor, and picking up what needed to be tidied.  After exchanging pleasantries, the angry, frustrated and disappointed octopus blurted out its pain to the King.

The King let the octopus talk for a long time.  Finally, after a few moments of silence, the King responded, "My child, the ocean is big,  You tried to fill it all.  That left those closest to you unable to swim- there was no water left for them."

Verily Verily I say unto you, the Kingdom of God is like the play of the gifted octopus. 
Choice
straws.jpgHow much real choice do you have?  Coke or Pepsi?  Subway or Mr. Sub?  McDonalds or Burger King?  Protestant or Catholic? Christian or Muslim?  Faith or Atheism?

Many philosophers say our choices are only illusions, while some theologians teach that our choices define who we are.  Some believe each choice is a limited set of options that have been narrowed by our previous choices, leading to a life more limited as more choices are made.  Another group believes that each choice is made in a wide open vacuum- all free and all meaningless.  Yikes!  What do you think?

This little mental experiment often comes up in Christian circles around Easter-time in the form of the Judas story.  You know Judas- the disciple who betrayed Jesus for a bag of silver coins.  He followed Jesus for three-and-a-half years.  Judas saw the miracles, heard the teachings, collected the bread.  He experienced the power of healing the sick and casting out demons for himself.  Yet, long before the pressure was on during that last week of Jesus' life, Judas arranged for a payment from Jesus' enemies to make the healer from Nazareth's arrest go smoothly.  He was part of Jesus' inner squad of twelve, and yet, somehow, sold him out. How? Why? How did he get to that choice?

Inevitably, we need to backtrack a few years, back to when Jesus was calling his first disciples.  If Jesus was who he claimed to be, then why in the good green earth would he choose Judas?  He knew the moment he laid eyes on Judas that he would orchestrate the arrest in the garden.  Knowing what Jesus did, I would be inclined at my first meeting with Judas to slap him really hard to the side of the head. "Hey!  What was that for?"  "You'll know soon enough."  Bam!  And I'd give him another one!  

So- did Jesus have a choice to call Judas?  Did he have a choice to go to the cross and die?  Did Judas have a choice to follow Jesus, or a choice to betray him?  Or was all of this, and perhaps all of our lives, just predetermined beyond our control.  Did God give Judas any real choice, or did He make him in such a way, giving him very specific experiences, so that Judas would of course betray Christ?  My head hurts now.

I think Jesus had a choice- to bring glory to his Father.  I think Judas had a choice- to bring glory to himself in the form of 30 pieces of silver.  A choice in the heat of the moment for Judas, or a foreseen fulfillment of Scripture?  Yes and yes.

While for many, this kind of answer is thoroughly unsatisfying, I think the last paragraph is closer to how God does things than a polarized "either this or that" approach to the question. I can live with dichotomy, and clearly, God can not only live with it, He has built a large house there, opened a business, and has joined the local Dichotomy chamber of commerce.  His kids are going to Dichotomy Public School, and they play minor hockey at the Dichotomy Village Memorial Rink.

Stop right now. What is your next choice going to be?  Which elevator to take? Bus or subway? What to make for supper?  What TV program to watch?  When you are on the edge of that choice, ask yourself, was I meant to take this bus, ordained from the beginning of time, or is this just another variable in the rich and complex tapestry of my life.  The answer is yes and yes.  And no.  :)

Peace.
Naughtland
Read 1Kings 19:4-5a for context.

naughtland.jpgI am empty.

Those who have declared their love for me have abandoned me to the Naughtland.

While I do not sin, I am encircled by those who trade intimacy with others, all the while forgetting their vows.  I have been faithful, yet my comforters are as Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar to me.  

I am not Job.

I suffer aloud.  I complain of my plight in life.  I am unhappy.  Those thought closest are now farthest away from me.  

I have run out of hips, God.  How can I walk now? Your victory- my defeat- has left you irrelevant in my life. Enjoy the championship belt.  It is made of what was me.

My life is not my own; the path before me is not of my choosing.  My wisdom informs me that this path will end in Naughtland. But those choosing the path for me seem not to care.

I am defined by those closest to me.  Who am I when everyone, even the one with the belt, has departed?  How am I supposed to act, now that the words of the mount have drifted away?

And now I realise, I am not headed for Naughtland;  I am Naughtland.  I am the empty wilderness of Adam’s creation.  I am roadless.  A flat plain from dawn to dusk, from line to line.

I am Naughtland.  And my emptiness will be terrible.
Inhabiting Identity
flags.jpgI’m just finishing a message series on the book of Obadiah this week.  Obadiah, which means “servant of Jah”, (likely an honourific short form for Jehovah, that is, God), wrote down God’s judgment on the nation of Edom.

The Edomites lived in the south-east high desert from Israel.  Descendants of Esau, Jacob’s (aka Israel) twin brother, the two nations had little liking for one another.

The Edomites were in the habit of launching small border raids on Israelite villages, leaving nothing behind but bodies.  God’s patience for this kind of behaviour ran out when Israel was invaded, and the Edomites stood by, offering no help.  In fact, Edom closed her borders to Israelite refugees.  For generations of hatred and harm, God would take away Edom’s very identity.  

To accomplish this, God would see everything that made Edom unique taken from them.  The identifiers were Edom’s technology, their tribal stories, law, and language, and their land, especially a seemingly impregnable high desert fortress called the Eagle’s Nest.

This awful promise of God says nothing about seeing every Edomite killed, just the disappearance of everything that made them unique. If you look around today, there is no distinct people of Edom.  God didn’t wipe them out, He made them go away quietly, being absorbed into the peoples of the region.

What makes you distinct?  From where do you draw you identity?  How are the groups you belong to special?  How are your groups different from others?

Today, I think we see technology as a distinctive for either the first world in general, or unique at the corporation level. For example, Canada is separated from the poorest of third world countries by our technology/ standard of living. Also, in business, the technology that Apple produces is different than that made by Microsoft.

I think stories for the most part give identity to families or ethnic groups.  The Bible is a part of the story woven into my bones.  So are the treasured family stories told to me over and over again as I grew up; the same stories I tell my children today.

In our highly mobile world, land does not hold the same place of importance in identity that it did centuries ago.  It is rare in our world to see three generations of a family live in the same city, let alone the same homestead!  So the land in which we live means less to identity, but the land which we inhabit is still important.

What I mean by “inhabit” is those areas in which we work, love, volunteer and give.  From a church perspective, much of a congregation’s identity comes from where they take their stand in a community.  Some churches see a need and open a soup kitchen, or a shelter for homeless people.  Some churches look around their pews, and see a vital need to minister to young people or senior citizens, or families.  The same is true for us as individuals.

What land do you inhabit?  Where do you love, give, pray?  Where have you taken a stand in your community, setting up a border, saying, “I will work here!”?  This informs who we are just as much as who we marry and what job we have.  And when the land we inhabit comes with God’s promises being fulfilled in our lives, our identity too is fulfilled.  Not just as inhabits of a ministry, but as children of God.

If you find yourself inhabiting no land of care and compassion in this world, as either an individual or a part of a group, a key part of who you are could be missing.  I would encourage you to inhabit an identity of hope and help in your community.  It is a wonderful chance to reach your fullest potential as a human being, and hopefully as God’s child.
Angry Scarecrows
scarecrowold.jpgHow do you deal with Anger?  I have noticed that different cultures, different people, deal with anger differently.  For some, anger is a short step away from violence.  For others, anger is like a frigid winter, stormy and cold.  While some react with anger, others put on anger day after day, like some treasured, indestructible piece of clothing.

Some people I know hold on to their anger, and only let the person they are angry at know years later.  Others respond right away. Some express anger through reasonable and rationale words, others throw dishes and yell.  

I am a bit of a child of two cultures- French father, English mother.  As my parent’s marriage dissolved, I saw many arguments.  My mother’s temper ran hot, but dissipated quickly.  Anger always gave way to sadness in her.  My father was slower to anger, but when he did become angry, his power to destroy was terrifying.  

When I was young, my temper was quick and ugly- kind of the worst parts of each of my parents.  As I have aged, I have been able to get a measure of control over it.   My commitment to following Jesus, and the maturing that happens with life, and study of the Bible, have all helped to take the heat out of my anger, and have allowed me to process it in a healthier way.

The people I don’t understand are the ones who choose to let their anger define their existence.  These are the people I mentioned earlier; the ones who put on anger like a favourite shirt or dress.  Their anger twists them, shapes them into a human scarecrow of sorts.  Anger drives them to the loneliness of the field.  Everything is growing around them, but they are stiff and immobile and near-dead.  The birds, the very ones the angry scarecrow wishes away, become their only companions.  They die slowly inside, and find no greater joy in life than to see the growth around them fail.

I have met several angry scarecrows in my life. These folks are scary in their unpredictability.  One moment, cool and pleasant, the next, words and body language better suited for a horror film than real life.  They speak of values and character, but give them a reason to let their anger surface,  and they will set aside what they “believe” to hurt or destroy the object of their anger.  And afterward, they will justify their hypocrisy, saying, “He deserved it!”  How do you deal with people like that? My inclination is to do one of two things; run away, or go nuclear.

Running away from a chronically angry person can be difficult if they are at your workplace or in your family.  I try to do my best, not to shun, but to hide.  I cloak myself in caution, saying little. I make sure any interaction I have with them is public (with witnesses). Perhaps not the most creative solution, but often better than the other option.

“Going nuclear” means that I try to shine a bright and public spotlight on everything the angry person does.  Even the smallest lack of consideration, I point it out.  I state what I believe to be their intention behind their every word and action.  Everything is done and said so others can see and hear what is happening.  I have found that these cancerous scarecrows will quickly explode when constantly exposed.  At that point, the damage they can do to the group in greatly reduced, because everyone sees them for who they are. “Oh, OK, Francine is one of those...” The label takes away their power. If the angry person doesn't run away themselves after the blow up (or breakdown), then some measure of healing and health can begin.

Please note, I don’t say either of the above options are the best options.  Its just that with the chronically angry, our work or family context becomes so unhealthy, one is left with few choices.  One thing I have learned from almost 20 years of ministry, if you let a chronically angry person dictate the parameters of work or family relationships, the result will be painful, damaging chaos.
Dishonest


puppet.jpgWhen I was preparing for ministry at Bible College, the school would start each year with a solid presentation of the Gospel for all new and returning students.  One year, the evangelist charged with this responsibility conducted the requisite altar call with the typical, "With every head down and every eye closed..." approach.  So, when the rest of the congregation bowed their heads and closed their eyes, I did the opposite- head up and eyes open.

The preacher asked those who wanted to commit or recommit their lives to Christ to stand.  No one stood.  This went on for 30 or 45 seconds, no one moving.  Then the preacher asked, "Anyone else?"  No one was standing, no one had their arm up, no one was looking at him.  From my vantage point in the back, I could see the entire room easily.  No one had stood up.  Yet he asked, "Anyone else?"  Within a few seconds, students started to stand up.  As far as I was concerned, that preacher manipulated the situation.  He was intellectually and spiritually dishonest at a most critical moment in some peoples' lives.  If the Holy Spirit needs help like that, God is not worthy of worship.

I've been thinking a lot lately about being spiritually and intellectually honest in ministry.  No manipulative words, phrases, attitudes or environments.  Let a yes be yes and a no be no.  No acting in the pulpit, no salesmanship at the Bible study,  no glossy finish at the meeting.  Make suggestions to people in life and ministry, but do not press an opinion on them.  I have been trying to minister in this way for 5 years.  The problem is that it doesn't work.

Effective ministry seems to need some level of confrontation and manipulation to be successful.  The churches that sustain great growth are the ones that turn Sunday morning into a performance, that use studies and programs to scratch at the peoples' felt needs “itch”, that develop a sub-culture and then go about squeezing people in that sub-cultural mold.  This is "polished" and "professional" ministry, and it makes me want to puke- now.

I worked in that "ministry mode" for almost 10 years.  The church I was at saw great growth, and we had some significant impact on our community. The right sermon illustration, the right Bible study, the right children's ministry, the right time for DVBS, the cool band, the right Christmas drama, meh- you get the idea. The church's ministry umbrella more than tripled in those ten years there.  And let me make it very clear- I did not do this by myself; there were lots of great people there who had drunk the same Kool-aid I had. We worked together and did some great things, we thought.

Within a year of me shifting my ministry style away from what I considered to be intellectually and spiritually dishonest, I was gone. Driven away by an ever increasingly loud chorus of critics.  You know what I learned?  If you tell people what they want to hear (in and about ministry), but do what you want to do anyway, you'll generally be OK.  However, if you tell people honestly you disagree with them and try to open a healthy discussion about your differences, they will eat you for lunch. And people wonder why church politics exist!

So which is better?  To minister honestly or effectively?  I'm not sure a pastor can grow a church and be both.  Pinnochio's nose doesn’t shrink.

 

 

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