Andre's Blog

Paper Cuts

Tue, 08 Jun 2010 15:42:00 GMT

I walk to the library every work day. It's a nice walk, through an older village-type downtown. There are lots of cars at that time in the morning, but they move slowly and i find them thoughtful of pedestrians. That is, until I get to a major road. This road is the main east- west artery in this area, and it is busy! As is usual with every busy intersection, drivers have a tendency to cut some corners, literally and figuratively. More than once I have had to dodge a Dodge, or a Honda or a Ford.

One particular time, a couple weeks ago, one driver was turning right, and just didn't see me. He missed me by millimeters. The car actually brushed my coat. The funny part was the shocked look on the face of this guy's passenger. She looked me right in the eye with a look of horror, an "Aaaaah!" still on her lips. "Didn't you see that guy?! You almost killed him!" is what I imagine she was saying to the driver It was pretty funny, in hindsight.

But at the time, after jumping out of the way of umpteen drivers not seeing me (somewhat surprising since I am a big guy), I was really annoyed. No, to be honest I was pissed off. I responded accordingly.

I wish I could tell you I waved and smiled and made the sign of the cross, but I didn't. I hit the back of his car with my hand. In my defense, I didn't do any damage to the vehicle, at least not as much as my bloody corpse would have done squished into his grill. But nonetheless, I lost my cool and hit his car. t was wrong. He didn't stop, and I didn't chase him.

All it was was a paper cut, a little annoying prick (no pun intended) that stung me for a second. That's all. But my response was based on the previous dozen times I almost became the main dish at the road kill cafe. I let all those other paper cuts from the other times build up until all together they were a major emotional wound. And that's my fault.

What are the paper cuts in your life? The dirty dishes in the sink- again? The dirty clothes on the bedroom floor- again? The toilet paper role left unchanged- again? The milk put back in the fridge, empty- again? We can all have a ton of paper cuts in our lives. They happen. The challenge is to keep them from building up until we react like a major offense as taken place.

Check out this advice from Jesus about paper cuts:

"You have heard that it was said, 'An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you."

(Matthew 5:38-42)

What does Jesus suggest we do? Let it go. Take the hit. Go the extra mile. Give the jerk the shirts off our backs. Great advice, but really hard to do in real life. Why? Because after enough of these paper cuts, where our perceived rights have been violated, we lash out like a junk yard dog. We feel we can only take so much before we're ready to snap. Jesus says the trick is to have no perceived rights.

Wow. And just to show that Jesus practiced what he preached, look at John 18:22;

When he had said these things, one of the officers standing by struck Jesus with his hand, saying, "Is that how you answer the high priest?"

Jesus didn't hit him back. He didn't shout. He didn't scream or threaten. Meh, just a paper cut. He shook it off. There was a lot worse to come (crucifixion), why sweat this?

So, what are you sweating today? What paper cut are you letting get infected? Take a moment right now and think about it. What are the paper cuts in your life? Try to shake them off before they become something that controls your mood and impacts your relationships. Seriously, it's not worth the hassle.

Peace.

Fortress Church

Fri, 04 Jun 2010 09:56:00 GMT

So, we think our society is in bad shape, do we? Try ancient Crete, say, about 2000 years ago. Alcoholism was almost universal, no-commitment relationships were the norm, and violence against women was epidemic. It's into this culture that the apostle Paul dropped a very young protege of his, Titus.

In his letter that survives to today, Paul gave Titus specific instructions on how to begin to rebuild a society in chaos. In chapter two of the epistle, Paul focuses on gender, age and position to begin the renovation project. He has pointed instructions to Titus on expectations the young minister should have of older women, older men, younger women, younger men, and slaves. The catch? All of the people in these varied groups shared one thing in common: a faith in Jesus Christ.

Paul's instructions to Titus are to draw lines of accountability within the community of faith he is leading. He doesn't tell Titus to go change Crete by lecturing people in the streets, or complaining how bad society is to those in the church who would listen. You want to make an impact on society? Start with those in the church. Teach them and model for them a holiness lived out that is attractive and pure.

How have we done, as the church in North America, in following Paul's advice? Ya, not that good. Much of evangelical Christianity in North America still sits in fortress churches, lobbing judgement bombs at their non-believing family and neighbours because they do not live like Christians. Boy, talk about setting yourself up to be constantly disappointed. Expecting people who want nothing to do with church to act like Christians ought! At least there will be a never ending supply of examples to go "tsk tsk" about each Sunday.

Legalism in the Cretan church was especially tempting because of the chaos in society. When all the world around you is seemingly out of control, a life of rigid discipline can seem attractive. And if you throw in a belief that living that disciplined life will earn you extra favour with God, all the better. But Paul is clear that is not the answer either. Trading enslavement to our passions with enslavement to legalism is still enslavement.

Paul asserts that there is a third way. He calls Titus to teach his flock to live out of an overflowing of gratitude for the grace shown by God in the work of Jesus Christ. No longer enslaved to sin, we can experience freedom of living. Freedom to live a life of renewed purity that honours the grace of God, but also expands His kingdom. The way we live communicates the work God has done and is doing in our lives. Church, our lives are either the Gospel, or they aren't. Our lives either draw our neighbours and friends to ask about our hope, our they do not. Legalism is a form of selfishness that puts the focus of faith on self, not God Our motivation to live free and pure must come from the same attitude that God expressed to us in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, an attitude of sacrificial love, gratitude, relationship and grace. No fortress church, no walls, no legalism, no judgement bombs lobbed at our neighbours.

I'll end this blog entry with this: Read all three chapters of Titus. Had Paul left Titus in Markham, in Toronto, or in your neighbourhood, what would be different in his instructions? Try rewriting some of the letter to make it fit your context. I wonder What insights we'll gain from this exercise.

Victims

Tue, 04 May 2010 10:17:00 GMT

There is an old story about Pierre Trudeau from before he was a politician. He was playing tennis with friends one day when he got word that an ongoing labour dispute was about to turn violent. Apparently, the company had hired strike-breakers to come in and knock some strikers' heads together. The Quebec government was standing by, just 'monitoring' the situation -aka doing nothing. Trudeau supposedly, as the story goes, left the tennis court immediately, hopped in his sport car (convertible I'm sure) and whipped out to the picket line. Along the way, he rounded up as many journalists as he could. I can just imagine the scene! Striking workers with placards on one side, knuckle-dragging thugs with baseball bats and chains on the other, the Quebec provincial police standing back "monitoring". And into this ready-to-blow powder keg, Trudeau slips in with a gaggle of press. I can see him in my mind's eye, wearing his white tennis outfit, sweater tied about his shoulders. Racquet in hand, the future PM begins an impromptu news conference about workers rights, the abuse of big business and the indifference of the Fat Cats in Quebec City. Priceless!

Fast forward almost 50 years. A good sized mob converges on a meeting hall on the University of Ottawa campus. They are there to shout down a speech and Q&A time by American right-wing commentator Ann Coulter. The mob succeeds. While Canada's Freedom of Expression is not quite identical to America's Freedom of Speech, they are similar enough for this discussion. Coulter never got a chance to express her opinion. Setting aside the belief some have that she is some right-wing nut job (I'm not saying what I think of her), wouldn't it be better to let her speak? Her own opinions will reveal the quality of her character. In a thinking culture, and with this speaker especially, the more she talks, the less real impact she is likely to have. There are limits to expression in Canada. Had Coulter got up and started inciting riot (did she do that anyway, without speaking?) or yelling "Kill all Muslims! Kill all Jews! Kill all Christians!", she would have been shut down. Let her be, write her off as irrelevant, and suddenly the right-wig nut job has not clothes.

What irked me was that Coulter did the US Cable news rounds afterwards, claiming to have been victimized. Sorry Coulter- you play in the big leagues, you're bound to have a pitch thrown at you occasionally. You're no victim! You knew what could happen when you stood in the batters box. Victims are people who have had some terrible act perpetrated against them. Think abused spouse. Think helpless children sexually attacked by priest, pastor or pediatrician. Think Palestinian children being used as human shields as Israeli attack helicopters launch missiles into a residential area, with both sides trying to take the moral high ground by weeping over their blood. Think university students on a Tel Aviv bus, blown to bits by a suicide bomber. Think Warsaw Ghetto. Think gas chamber. Think mass graves and ethnic cleansing. But Ann Coulter a victim? Please.

But maybe, in typical Canadian fashion, we should make Coulter the poster child for political victim-hood. Ya- let's play with that idea for a second. We invite her back to Canada to apologize to her. Lots of hand-wringing and weeping and gnashing of teeth, a nice dinner on Parliament Hill, maybe even a a plaque, and a cheque. Ya, a big cheque. We could have lots of press coverage, but no TV camera's, because recognizing someones official victim status in high definition would be gauche. There would be speeches, and presentations, and Ann Coulter would leave with the title of "official victim". And you know what would happen next? That victim label would stick to her like fleas to a hound dog. Everyone would know her story by just looking at her. When she got up to speak, people would go, "Aww- there's Ann the victim. Some students were unkind to her once in Ottawa." No one would hear a word she had to say, and if they did, it would be dismissed, "Because victims do tend to talk that way." When Ann stood up on her soap box to scream about Muslims riding camels and not flying in airplanes, instead of shocking anyone she would be greeted with a room full of, "Poor dear! It's not her fault, she's a victim. Let's give her some money. And flowers. Ya- lots of flowers."

In the UK general election this week, Prime Minister (for now) Gordon Brown got into trouble. He was confronted on a campaign stop by a woman who kept pestering him about what he was going to do with all these "filthy" eastern European immigrants that were taking jobs from "real" Brits. Brown did his best to assuage her fears. When he got back in the car to leave, the PM forgot about the wireless mic he still had on. He was overheard telling a staffer about that "bigoted woman". Soon the tape of Brown's private comments were everywhere. He had to go back and apologize to the woman later that day. The press played it out like the woman was a victim, and Brown was the evil bully. No one ever mentioned that the woman was a bigot. You walk like a duck and talk like a duck, don't be surprised when people mistake you for a duck.

In some countries, people who are hated are victimized. Think European Jewry in the 1930's and 1940's. Think Rwanda in the 90's. Think Sudan today. Nowadays, in 'civilised' societies, the unliked and unwashed are made out to be victims. We give them big cheques, and flowers, and apologies and labels, so we don't have to acknowledge their significance ever again. We do it so often, there's no room and not enough help for people who are really victims. Don't we diminish real victims everywhere when we ask them to share a table with the likes of Ann Coulter? It's getting hard to tell who is holding the placards and who is holding the baseball bats and chains. I guess we'll have to keep monitoring the situation. Tennis anyone?

Miscellany

Wed, 28 Apr 2010 14:05:00 GMT

In my early years of ministry, there was a trend running through faith circles to ask forgiveness for the sins of the past. Not one's own past, mind you, but rather the society's past. Or that of a people group, or a certain community. The pope apologized for the crusades. American families that owned slaves 4 or 5 generations previous asked forgiveness of the slaves' descendants. Canada asked forgiveness for their involvement in the Boer War (look it up in Hansard!). I'm still not sure to whom we apologized, and for what, exactly. I imagine in a hundred years we'll be apologizing to Afghanistan for the terrible sin of building schools, fighting terrorists (this one is admittedly, enlightened self interest) and securing some measure of freedom for women under the veil. Donald Miller in his book Blue Like Jazz tells a story about his college's Christian students group setting up a confessional booth at a campus festival. It was not meant to be a confessional for drunken students (good luck with that) but was meant to confess the sins of the church to anyone who would sit down to listen. I don't get all this apologizing.

In this week's MacLeans magazine, Brian Bethune's article entitled "Why didn't you do something?" talks about the modern German experience of lived out guilt over the holocaust and the events leading up to and including the Second World War. For the article, Bethune interviewed German judge and author Bernhard Schlink (think The Reader). Defining the difference between forgiveness and reconciliation, Schlink says this, "To ask forgiveness for someone else's guilt is cheap." At some point we all live in our own skin. We are the one's responsible for our actions, attitudes, beliefs. It is from our own soul stature that we all must approach God. Anything else is disingenuous. Admitting to our sin is authentic. Confessing the sin of another we never knew to people who never knew them either is inauthentic. To echo Schlink, that's cheap.

This world, so filled with conflict, is in desperate need of reconciliation. Abraham chose a wife over a concubine, one son over another, and look at the Middle East now! Israel need not approach their Arab neighbours with confession over the ancient past, but assertions about the future. That is a step toward peace. The reverse is true as well. Those who are still living out the consequences of some generations-old deed need to be freed by the power of reconciliation. This is a power that says, "Even though you have been my enemy for longer than either of us have been alive, I won't hurt you, I won't kill you. I will let go of the lies and hate and the ignorance, and choose to live with you in peace."

For some of us, living at peace means being forgiven and forgiving. Forgiveness is both an act of the will and a spiritual discipline. I can forgive, but I need to keep forgiving from the soul until all the heat and bile lose their sting. To be reconciled means to live together in some sort of ongoing relationship, as hard as that can be. When I am called in to do marriage counseling, the first sessions are all about forgiveness; the rest are about reconciliation. I can forgive with a plan of never seeing, never trusting, that person again. To be reconciled means that I'll be forced to look that person in the eye ball again, and probably on many occasions. The church does forgiveness pretty well. I wonder how well we do reconciliation?

Know anyone who left a church pissed-off? Me too. As pastor, I'm probably the one who pissed them off. I've heard the talk of forgiveness from these folks, but they still leave. "I forgive the pastor, the leadership, the congregation, but I just can't go back there." Fair enough. Then why do they run away in the mall when they see someone from their old congregation walking their way? Hmm. Could be a lack of reconciliation (or they just lied about that whole forgiveness thing, but that's for another day). Instead of spending time confessing the sins of others, lets work on something much harder: trying to live with each right now.

Success

Thu, 22 Apr 2010 11:16:00 GMT

suc-cess |s?k'ses|
noun
the accomplishment of an aim

How does the church define success? It seems the only valid aim in evangelical circles is numbers. How many bums in the seats, how many $$ in the offering and how many baptisms each quarter. I'm not going to rant against that attitude. That's the measuring stick for success I was trained with. At Bible College, the pastors that were invited to speak at chapels and conferences were the ones who had churches exploding out the doors, in the midst of major building projects, busy planting dozens of daughter churches, or seeing more salvations than they could handle. Churches that were small and struggling were that way because of sin or leadership ineptitude, I was taught. I'm not sure anymore.

No matter how much I talk and write and study about defining success by faithfulness- a concept I believe to be significantly Biblical- I still can't get past the numbers of success. It informs my foundational perspectives on ministry. Success by the numbers tells me if I've done a good job as a pastor, if we've done a good job as a church. I had a small taste of that kind of success at my last church. Maybe it's some in-built need to have the approval and praise of others. Maybe its a sincere desire to please God. Maybe its just a random stumbling into what God's Spirit happens to be doing in a certain place or at a certain time. I had a pastor friend of mine asked to resign from his church after 5 or 6 years of ministry because of the lack of growth in the church. It was all on him to grow the church. In his case, few congregants took personal responsibility for accomplishing the aim of the church- success by numbers- but hung the pastor out to dry when they didn't grow. The only thing worse, I think, is if the church didn't care, but I'm not sure anymore.

I sometimes wonder what the Gospel is really all about. Is it as personal as we have made it out to be in evangelical circles? The Old Testament is so corporate in its view of salvation. God will retain for Himself a remnant. That remnant theology is all through the Old Testament. Jesus sure picks up on it in his teaching of the Kingdom. Paul says the same things in his letters- all with the English plural "you" in our translations, but somehow we in the evangelical world singularize those "you" statements, and make church all about me. Is the Gospel really just a numbers game? Are we still trying to recapture the Day of Pentecost when 3000 were added to the church? As a pastor, do I hold my first loyalty of service to God? My congregation? My concept of the Gospel? The Bible? My training? Something else? I'm not sure anymore.

I knew a pastor in my early days that came across, at least to me, like a used-car salesman (no offense to used-car salesmen, but society holds them in not much greater esteem than clergy and politicians). He grew his church to over-filling, planted daughter churches, and had a following of people that were incredibly loyal to him. However, when I saw him interact with people, I found him to be manipulative. I vowed I would never knowingly minister like that. It seems that all the large churches that I have seen that are growing and vibrant are led by individuals like that. Well, all but one. I don't understand leaders who do not take no for an answer from their congregants. They have a unique ability to convince someone to do something they just said no to, and seemingly do it willingly. Where is the fall out? From everything I know and understand about people, when they are manipulated, there has to be some kind of emotional, spiritual or other kind of fallout, eventually! Bitterness, rage, brokenness, an unwillingness down the road to say yes ever again, relational separation, something! Is it a matter that these leaders and churches need a steady stream of new people to keep the system working? Maybe I am just completely out to lunch here. I'm not sure any more.

My experience of late leads me to ask these questions, and others. After 20 years in this, how could I be missing the point this badly? Are people just tools to accomplish the goals of the church? I thought people were the point. The reason God sent Jesus to us- to live and die like a man, all the while not sinning and maintaining his divinity. I thought the Kingdom of God was people, under God. I look around at a lot of churches, and there has been a subtle shift from people to numbers. Is this overly cynical of me? I am just some raving ideologue who holds fast to his model, regardless of the facts? I'm not sure anymore.

For those of us on the outside of that kind of church, we need a definition of success that sticks, and we need it pretty soon, or I think we will just be defined by failure.Whatever that is.

Evangelical Hagiology

Thu, 15 Apr 2010 10:41:00 GMT

One of my favourite novels is Robertson Davies' Fifth Business. It is the fictional autobiography of a Canadian man, from early life in small town Ontario, through his experiences in the Great War, and then teaching history in an exclusive Toronto private school. The character, Dunstan Ramsey, is incredibly literate and well-read. He is also noticeably quirky. A passion for him is the study of saints, known has hagiology. What makes this eccentric is his protestant roots. Protestants aren't supposed to go in for all this saints stuff. That's supposed to be the purview of Rome.

Roman Catholics and some Anglicans in the Western Church, and the Orthodox Church in the east canonize and venerate heroes of the faith. The Vatican even has a formula for sainthood. The idea is to gain strength and intercessory help from a Christian hall-of-famer, especially one who demonstrated exceptional prowess in a certain area. In my home town, a very Catholic community, it was common for someone who wanted to sell their house to bury a statue of St Joseph (I can't remember which one) in the front yard.

I've frequented protestant circles enough to know that we do have saints, but are not honest enough to admit it very often. In certain churches, the epistles of the Apostle Paul hold a 'first-among-equals' standing over the other books of the Bible. Paul is quoted more that Jesus in these churches. I call these churches "St. Paul" churches. In other churches, the Gospels are elevated, leading to little followings of Saints Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. In more seeker sensitive churches, the popular church growth guru of the day is raised almost to Sainthood. I saw this played out once in a board meeting at a church I was at. The board was discussing a new direction for a certain ministry. I was trying to bring into the discussion what I thought were relevant portions of Scripture. One board member cut me off, "That's all well and good Andre, but what would Bill Hybels do?" I should have marketed bracelets, WWBHD. I have met Wesleyan who care more what Wesley said than what the Bible says. I have seen reformed pastors who could quote Calvin with greater ease that they could quote the Bible. In the emerging church, we venerate (or vilify) Brian McLaren, Donald Miller, Rob Bell. Most of us have to admit that, in one form or another, we are closet hagiologists.

I'm not going to bash Roman Catholics, et al, for venerating saints. At least they are honest about it. I am suggesting however that the rest of us acknowledge what "saints" we elevate, so that we can evaluate their influence on us, especially our understanding of the Bible. A real danger is to land on a certain commentator's approach to the Scripture without ever wrestling with Holy Writ for ourselves. It sounds cliche, but lets aspire to be disciples of God in our own right, not disciples by proxy through McLaren, Hybels, Driscoll (especially Driscoll! :) ), Bell, Wesley, Calvin, Luther, Augustine, Irenaeus or even Paul, John or Ringo.

Castigat ridendo mores.

My Father's Words

Thu, 08 Apr 2010 10:52:00 GMT

Have you seen the new (as of April 2010) Nike ad featuring Tiger Woods? Here is the YouTube link.

The black and white ad shows a serious, almost broken looking Tiger staring into the camera while the voice of his father, Earl Woods, can be heard asking some very fatherly questions. What is of note here, apart from Nike taking a less-than-conventional approach to rehabbing Tiger's image after the scandals of late 2009 and early 2010, is that Earl Woods has been dead for almost four years. There is no way that Earl Woods' words in this ad apply directly to Tiger's present situation. That does not take away from the power of the ad or the impact of what the elder Woods said. It's just out of context. Does that matter?

I think this ad illustrates how many approach the Bible; they forget about the context. How many traditions and legalities that are found in the church today can be attributed to a reading of the Bible that ignores the context of the original words? Women wearing head coverings? Elders and deacons policing the communion table? The modern missionary movement? We build grand theological cathedrals on sandy soil. The fact that these cathedrals withstand the storms of time is testament, not to our correctness, but rather the power of God's Word. That it can be misunderstood and misused for the sake of legalistic practices and still draw people to Christ is miraculous, not confirmative of our usage.

All of this leads us to a question: What filters do we use in reading the Scripture? Some filters- those factors that taint or colour our understanding of the Bible- are built in. Language. Culture. Relationships. Personality. Others filters are adopted- theological or denominational persuasion, for instance. With all of these filters getting in the way, we must work especially hard to ensure we get to the intent of the author, as inspired by God's Holy Spirit. By understanding a passage in its original context, we can begin to grasp its universal meaning, and then be able to apply it to our time and culture. Unlike Islam that requires believers to take on an Arabic culture, Christianity is meant to be dynamic enough to be relevant in every culture, every time period.

Here's an example. In 1 Timothy 2, Paul writes: I also want women to dress modestly, with decency and propriety, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or expensive clothes (1Timothy 2:9). On first blush, the passage seems to be dictating a certain style of dress for women as a symbol of spiritual propriety. Should this verse be applied universally? In others words, does this verse apply to all women who have ever lived, regardless of culture and time period? When we begin to delve into the context of the passage, we see that Paul is speaking of behaviours and attitudes during a worship service. Expanding the context a little more, we learn that Timothy, the recipient of this letter, was a pastor at Ephesus. Ephesus was the home of Temple of Artemis (Diana). Worship at the Temple of Artemis included prostitution. What did the temple prostitutes wear? Immodest expensive clothing, braided hair adorned with gold and pearls. Coincidence? I don't think so.

Going a little further, into the original Greek- the passage can also read I want women to pray in modest attire. They both work with the grammar, and the latter seems more consistent with how Jesus himself conducted his ministry. Let's check into applying all of this to our culture. When you see a woman with braided hair, or decorations in her hair, do you find that immodest? No. But for a young church at Ephesus, seeing temple prostitutes come to Christ, to have these women attending church services still dressed like prostitutes for Artemis would have been a problem for the congregation.

So why does every English translation choose the first reading? Not because of scholarly ethics or grammatical consistency, but because of tradition. So a questionably translated passage has been used for centuries to say 'no' to gifted women wanting to exercise their spiritual gifts in the context of church. So when Jesus lifted women up to be equal worshippers (remember, worship is an act of living) of God, that was a mistake the Apostles had to correct in the early church? Hardly! And this is only one example.

Kicking off the filters of tradition, and the tons of teaching and writing produced to justify tradition, can be hard. It could mean starting to walk out of step with those around. But wrestling with these issues leads us to a more grounded and dynamic faith.

A New Day At The River

Thu, 01 Apr 2010 10:06:00 GMT

I have exciting news for this beginning of April blog entry. The River has just embarked on several new partnerships that will ensure that we will be a cutting edge church long into the future. Here are the deets, as the kids like to say:

Emergent Church Life Association of North America

This conglomeration of other emerging and emergent churches in North America will ensure that we will be part of a community of like-minded believers who 'get' us. The support we will gain from shared experiences and resources will be incalculable. The annual conferences in Las Vegas will be encouragement enough in and of themselves!

Churches with Borders

A spin off of several aid oriented ministries, Churches with Borders professes a "home nation" focus for outreach and missional living. Why send money and missionaries half way around the world, when you can keep it all within your own borders? One of the major initiatives of Churches with Borders is the "I Am Canadian" Maple Leaf give away each Fall. This is a door-to-door outreach program, seeking to educate our neighbours and co-workers about the central place Canada has in the Christian world, and especially in the End Times. Leaflets in the shape of, you guessed it, maple leaves are distributed. This should be very effective in the Toronto area! The River Leadership Team is especially excited about this new partnership!

The Canadian Auto Workers Union (Local 790)

In what can only be called a 22nd century move, we have joined the CAW. Former CAW president Buzz Hargrove was instrumental in our signing with this up and coming labour organization. Thank you Buzz! The benefits? Solid legal and muscle protection from rival churches, especially foreign churches (I'm looking at you, Churches of England and Rome! You know I am!). This union got our Federal Government to impose tariffs on foreign made cars. Just think what they will do for us with foreign-led churches! Our first move will be to encourage some of those "foreign' churches to make, um, certain donations of, um, good will- ya - good will, to the River to ensure a peaceable coexistence.
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After taking in the above announcements, I am sure you are as excited as I am about the future of the River. The days ahead will be bright and prosperous, ensuring a healthy congregation and an important community impact role in the years to come. Hodie est primoris dies of April!!

Geese

Thu, 25 Mar 2010 10:23:00 GMT

Every year at this time, a pair of Canada geese settle onto my front lawn for a week or two. My family has nicknamed them Fred and Ethel. (We are of course assuming these are the same birds each year, and that there is one male and one female. Frederica and Ethel?) As I was walking into an appointment recently, I noticed a pair of Canada geese standing on the roof of a new house and honking profusely. The two geese were honking the way an old married couple natters. "I know there is a house here, but it wasn't here last year!" "Oh, would you just stop and ask for directions! We're lost!" "No, we are not lost! I'm telling you, this was an empty field last year." "Sure. Whatever you say."

___

Have you ever heard the old sermon illustration about Canadian Geese? It is said that as the geese fly in a 'V' formation, they honk a lot as a way to encourage the goose who is leading. My thoughts? Ever notice that geese in formation change their leader often? Most think being at the head of the gaggle is hard work, so to keep speed, frequent change is necessary. I think its because all that honking is actually criticism, and the leader can only take it for a few minutes before giving up. Canada geese must have Baptist roots.

Once Upon a Time...

Wed, 10 Mar 2010 10:40:00 GMT

Once upon a time, a little boy went into the woods to play. He had been warned by his mother and his father not to venture too far into the woods, for there were dangers there too dreadful to consider. But, as little boys are apt to do, he did not heed his parents' warnings. The bright sun soon lost its strength as the trees thickened, and the blue sky above became barely a rumour, blocked by leaf-filled branches. The deep forest was dark, and dank and soon dread filled his little heart. He turned to go back home, but his path was masked and soon his direction became confused. The little boy cried out for help, but his small voice was swallowed by his surroundings so that not even an echo could be heard.

As the boy walked aimlessly for some minutes, a shining light caught his attention. It was as though the sun had fallen from the sky, and was now pursuing him through the thick and scattered woods. The boy began to walk faster, but the light drew nearer. He began to run, but still the light overtook him. All at once the boy tripped on a tree root and fell headlong into the soft earth. Covered with dirt and moss, and fearful of the unknown, the boy rolled on to his back to catch his breath. There hovering above him was the light, as bright as the sun, but as cold as the winter winds. The sight was at once beautiful and terrible. The little boy shook in fear as he turned his head away.

Suddenly, the light was gone. The forest was quiet, apart from some distant bird song and the moaning of the light breeze through the branches of the trees. The little boy rolled over onto his hands and knees to stand up, when he caught sight of foot prints in the soft earth. His foot prints! He easily followed his own path home. He was warmly received by his worried parents, who through hugs and tears reaffirmed their love for him, and their warnings about going too far into the woods. Soon the little boy had been cleaned up, his scratches treated, a warm stew in his stomach, and he was safely tucked into his bed. In the quietness of pre-sleep, he asked his mother about the light.

"I would not have a clue, son." She responded. "There are stranger things on God's good green earth and in his holy heaven than I can ken. I thank the Lord above for that light, for although it terrified you, it also helped you find you way home to me." After a hug that lasted a little longer than usual, and a deep and long kiss on the forehead from his doting mother, the boy fell into a deep and restful sleep. And he dreamed of future adventures in the woods, but they could wait until he was a little bit bigger.

Verily verily I say unto you, the church of God is like a little boy who wandered too far into the deep woods.

Viral Community

Wed, 03 Mar 2010 10:00:00 GMT

I once knew a family that had a very strict code of forgiveness. They treated the "sins" of family members radically different than the "sins" of non-family members. If a brother or sister were to offend another, the subsequent argument would be loud and violent, but afterward, all was resolved and set aside. If a non-family member offended one of the family, then the whole family would take offence, followed by gossip, slander, the cold shoulder, and even damage to property. They had a friend or feud mentality. If you were not family, you were either a friend or an enemy; there was nothing in between. Their attitudes and behaviours were terribly destructive to church community in the years I knew them.

While that is an extreme example of unhealth in a church community, more subtle viruses creep in to challenge the health of a group of believers. I found out that the word community can be traced back to the Latin term "gift of togetherness". What a great definition! We all come to community with a bunch of expectations, spoken and unspoken. Some come to faith community expecting people to be surface nice and that's enough. Others want deep significant relationships at every turn. Some just assume that community is a dangerous place emotionally and relationally, so they keep their distance. I think one of the viruses that can really hurt community is the virus of expectations.

Think about it. If we all show up to a community looking to make emotional and spiritual withdrawals on our own terms, it won't be long until that community is bankrupt. The usual complaint about churches is that 10% of the people do 90% of the work. In that model, the 10% group better have a lot of resources available, because the 90% want what they want.

So, are you an investor in community? I'm not talking about money, I'm talking about time and emotions and prayer. The myth of quality time is almost dead in our society- and I say good. How can we expect to show up on Sunday morning at our faith community and invest quality time for 75 minutes? We need to eat with people, we need to hear their problems, we need to share our hurts and victories. We need to pray with and for others. We need to laugh together. We need to show up in each other's lives. The most significant time I have spent with people in community has not happened on Sunday morning- shock! It happens over a coffee; it happens around a supper table; it happens pouring over the Scriptures together, searching for answers.

If community is to be the "gift of togetherness", then we need to set aside our expectations of "what I get out of community" and replace them with an expectation of "what I will give to community". Every faith community needs your emotionally present time- not just to be an ekklesia doulos, but as an interested and caring investor. The gift of community is the gift we bring, not the one we receive.

Community without enough investors soon becomes sick. The signs and symptoms? Burnout in the 10% group. Apathy. Complaints that "needs are not being met". Christianity is about serving, not being served. It is about giving, not getting. It is about the other, not self. Are you part of the gift of togetherness, or have you caught the virus?

Maze

Wed, 24 Feb 2010 09:39:00 GMT

Wall.

Wall!

How did I get here if every direction is a wall? How can I be closed off...

... from family

... from friends (what friends?)

... from hope?

... from God?

I am not alone in this box. Love is here. Community is here. Hope is here. All trapped...

... by the restrictions we put on each other

... by the "no's" we put on each other

... by the frustrations of life we put on each other

God, I know I chose the route through this maze. It's my fault, but I need you to...

... show up

... knock these walls down

If I am free, why do I am so bound? Why can't I just be bound...

... to you God?

(Based on Habakkuk's complaints in Habakkuk 1)

What Are You Giving Up For Lent?

Wed, 17 Feb 2010 08:45:00 GMT

I grew up in a predominately Roman Catholic context in Eastern Ontario. Each year at about this time, I can remember various friends and family members asking, "What are you giving up for Lent?" I didn't think much of the question, being a non-observant Protestant at the time. As I came to faith in Christ, in an evangelical sense, and then wandered off to ministry training and pastoring, the question seemed even less relevant. Of late, however, the wisdom of the ancients has found a place in my meditations.

Ash Wednesday is the beginning of the 40 day (46 day if you count Sundays) period of repentance and humility leading up to Easter. This is meant to be a season of quiet introspection, a time of giving up luxury and addictions, for the sake of a closer walk with Christ. Lent is a movable fast (dates change from year to year), and Ash Wednesday is the starting gate. In Roman Catholic, Anglican, and other traditions, the service or mass on Ash Wednesday includes the spreading of ashes onto one's forehead, sometimes in the shape of a cross. In ancient days in the middle east, throwing ashes on one's head was a sign of grieving and repentance. That tradition was picked up in the Roman period of the church.

So, what are you giving up for Lent? A season of introspection and humbling one's self doesn't sound like a bad idea. Those ancients just may have been on to something. Have you sins for which you are grieved? Why not make them right (even if you are reading this and its not Ash Wednesday)? Are you coming out of a winter of excess, a winter of too much self and too much indulgence? This is a perfect time and a good reason to refocus, to set aside the addictions and selfishness and luxuries that hinder a closer relationship with God. While not a mandated celebration, according to the Bible, still not a bad idea. What are you giving up for Lent?

Not In My House

Tue, 16 Feb 2010 09:17:00 GMT

As a family, we went to the Hockey Hall of Fame yesterday. As we were looking around the gift shop, I was witness to a uniquely Canadian exchange between a father and his child. The girl, about ten, was wearing her teams jersey. Obviously, she was a hockey player. The father was wearing a Toronto Maple Leafs jersey. Obviously a troubled soul (sorry Leaf fans, had to say it!). The father was leafing (ha ha) through the child size jerseys, looking for something in particular. He called over his shoulder to his daughter, "How about a Kessel jersey? You like Kessel, right?" It sounded like he was trying to convince her more than ask her. She immediately shot back, with some panic in her voice, "No Dad! I like Ovechkin. I want an Ovechkin jersey!" Dad turned back to the rack. Almost right away, he pulled out a Washington Capitals jersey with "Ovechkin" and the star's signature #8 on the back. He turned to show his discovery to his daughter, "Look! I found one!" At the same time, the daughter exclaimed, "Me too! How about this one!" She held up a team Russia jersey with Ovechkin's name and number on the back. The dad became quite serious, his only response, in a low voice, almost a growl,"Not in my house."

I guess a father's love has limits. Go Canada Go.

Waiting

Wed, 10 Feb 2010 09:58:00 GMT

  I will climb up to my watchtower
      and stand at my guardpost.
   There I will wait to see what the Lord says
      and how he will answer my complaint. (Habakkuk 2:1 NLT)

Habakkuk was a musical priest in Israel about 600BC. He was also a prophet, a "mouth-piece" of God. He got to be a prophet through his complaint to God about the degenerating situation in his society. The place was falling apart; murder, violence, corruption, injustice at every turn. The fear of God, a tenet in Israel for centuries, was no longer recognized, and the civil authorities sold fairness to the highest bidder. So, Habakkuk decided to take it up with the boss.

"Hey God! Your people are in chaos down here! Don't you care? Why aren't you doing something about it, God?!" He shouted at the Lord. God's answer? Less than positive, at least from Habakkuk's perspective, "Hey Habakkuk! You know your worst enemy? That country over there with the most ruthless and terrifying and powerful army? I'm going to let them invade Israel. You think you've got injustice and violence now! What a bit, and then you'll see how the big boys do it!" Great answer, eh?

So Habakkuk complained again. His second complaint, in Chapter 1 of the book that bears his name, is pleading. "God, you want to wipe us out? Is this invasion punishment for our sin? OK God, I get that, but why destroy us completely? We have expectations of you and you don't seem to be living up to them! As far as we're concerned, you 're breaking your promises to your people. Where are you! Show up!"

And then Habakkuk says the above (see beginning of the blog entry). The grammar in the original gives the feeling of someone who just challenged another to a fight, at a time and place. See you behind the gym at 3pm! Habakkuk has put God on warning. He is going to vigilantly wait for God to answer his complaint. "I'm watching you God. You can be sure that when you do something, I'll be right there to see what it is."

When was the last time you waited on God? Not a passive, "Oh, God will do His thing in His time." But rather an active, focused, "OK God, show up!". Habakkuk throughout this book is respectful to God. This isn't a whiny child having a tantrum because he did not get his way. This is a passionate spiritual leader trying to reconcile why everything he has been taught about God is not measuring up in the current circumstances. His watchtower is a symbol of a man on guard for his people, and actively waiting for God's next move.

What is he difference between active and passive waiting on God? Passive waiting surrenders one's own will to the timing and wisdom of God. Active waiting stands alert for God's actions, respectful and expectant. Passive waiting on God turns everything over to Him and lets go of it. Active waiting partners with God. Passive waiting is the crowd watching a relay race at the stadium. Active waiting is the runner waiting for the baton.

In the Old Testament (where waiting on God is taken to spiritual heights) divides the two based on interest. Passive waiting is appropriate when one is self-interested. Active waiting is called for when the interest is the welfare of others. For example, If I am stressed about a personal problem, and have done everything I can do to solve it, asking God to help and then trusting Him to intervene, results in appropriate passive waiting. This grows personal peace and faith. However, if I see another in need, it's too easy to just "give it to God". That is an abdication of love.

Several months ago at the River, we had a client desperate for a refrigerator. This client had no means to purchase one (neither did we) and was in trouble. We put the word out everywhere looking for one. We actively searched Craigslist and the like, and kept looking, waiting for God to show up. We were beginning to wonder what was taking so long! Then one Sunday morning, first time visitors to the church came up to me after service and said they had a fridge to donate. God showed up. They had not even heard about the specific need of the fridge for our client, but just knew generally what kind of things we did for others. We had all the pieces in place; the pickup to carry the fridge and the men to lift. All we needed was the fridge, and here it was. We actively waited for God, on behalf of the just need of another, and were able to respond so quickly when God showed up!

Habakkuk looked around at his culture, his society and said, "Enough!" (Note: This wasn't a fundamentalist rant against the lifestyle choices of his nation, nor its "media" consumption, but rather a pleading for peace and justice in world gone mad.) As a priest, he was actively involved in the betterment of society, but was overwhelmed. He called out to God, on behalf of the other (others) and actively waited for God to show up. And when he didn't like God's answer, he went into aggressive negotiations with the Creator to make things right. Oh, that we would pursue justice with the passion and commitment of a Habakkuk!

Clean, or How to Clean Up Vomit in 4 Easy Steps.

Wed, 03 Feb 2010 10:28:00 GMT

I spent the last couple of days cleaning up after kids (and me) suffering with some kind of stomach flu. Eeew! I am proud to say that my house has never smelled cleaner, however! If you were to enter my place right now, the pungent, clean smell of Pine-Sol™ would greet you. It might cause your eyes and nose to burn, but you wouldn't smell anything else, that's for sure!

When you meet someone you know is sick with something communicable, how do you respond? Do you rush to embrace them like long lost family, or do you keep your distance? Heck, when I left the house today, I shooed my wife away from a hug and kiss, "Don't touch me, you could be a carrier!" Our response to disease is telling. We hold our own health over short-term relationship almost every time. The same was true in Jesus day concerning spiritual health.

The ancient Israelites of the first century believed that one became unclean through a whole host of activities; touching a dead body, coming into physical contact with someone with a skin blemish or disease, getting close to a menstruating woman. There were elaborate rituals that needed to be followed to become clean again. Several examples of this belief of transmission of uncleanliness appear during Jesus' earthly ministry recorded in the Gospels.

Luke 17:11-19 gives some small insight into this. Ten lepers called out to Jesus as he entered a certain town. Jesus heals them from a distance, and tells them to go see the priests to be declared clean, just as instructed in the law of Moses. The lepers would not come close for fear of making Jesus unclean. Luke 8 also shows us this same attitude in the Israelite culture. Jesus is on his way to a synagogue ruler's house to heal the man's sick daughter. On the way, a woman who had been bleeding for twelve years reaches out and touches Jesus' cloak hem. Her back-story reveals a desperate women, ready to risk a death penalty in the hope of healing. In that culture, a woman who was bleeding for that long would not have been touched by anyone, not even her husband. Can you imaging having no physical contact with anyone for twelve years? We'd likely go mad. This woman had been to doctors, sought the advice of priests and wise women, but nothing helped. In a last desperate act, she found the miracle worker Jesus, and lunged to touch him for healing. Jesus noticed the touch, even in the midst of a large and pressing crowd. The frightened, but healed woman stepped forward to explain why. Jesus tells her that her faith has healed her. A new paradigm has also just kicked in- cleanliness is what is transmitted, not uncleanliness. Jesus reinforces this immediately with the raising from the dead Jairus' daughter. The synagogue ruler's daughter died while Jesus was en route, but that did not dissuade the healer from saving the day. Jesus, the child's parents, and a couple of disciples stay in the room with the dead body. Jesus takes her hand- he touched a dead body!- and orders her alive. She is raised to life! Jesus has committed the ultimate unclean act, he has touched a dead body! Yet it was the girl who was revived. Jesus remained clean.

Les we think that this rule of passing on cleanliness applies to Jesus alone, we need only look to the early church to see that they assumed the same attitude. The early church rescued orphans, took in sick people, ministered to lepers, the infirm, the marginalized, the hopeless. They took the spiritual cleanliness given to them from a renewing relationship with God through Jesus Christ, and passed it on. Look to Mother Teresa and Henri Nouwen for modern examples of "passing the clean". Our source of spiritual cleanliness is the forgiveness of God found in the work of Jesus Christ, in his life, death and resurrection. With a relationship with God the Father, we can pass on to others purity, hope, belief, faith, love, and peace. What should be left behind? Religious fear and superstition.

I once performed a wedding ceremony for nice young couple. At their reception, the bride's grandparents made a big show, at least to me, of leaving when the dance started. They didn't want to be contaminated by the uncleanliness of the dance. I didn't think much of it at the time, I just dismissed it as an example of their age and religious background (fundamentalism). But, the more I consider the event, the more I think that their actions were either based on fear or selfishness. Fear that someone would judge them for staying at their grand-daughter's wedding dance (sin!), or selfishness in that they used a "religious conviction" to justify leaving. In hindsight, their act of leaving was a declaration that they did not believe that uncleanliness could be passed on. In the least, they denied the power of Christ in their lives to keep them clean in the midst of the dance. Jesus would have stayed for the dance. I guess they figured they were more holy than Jesus. So, who (or what) are you avoiding for fear of contamination?

Hope

Thu, 28 Jan 2010 10:24:00 GMT

One of the darkest periods of my life came in the middle of a huge transition on a number of fronts. I was in the middle of a move from one job to another. The job move required a physical move of several hundred kilometers. As the job transition began, several individuals from the old job site expressed anger at my move, while several others were just as quick to kick me in the pants (and the heart) on my way out. At the same time, my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer and died in three weeks. The week of her death is a blur in my memory. Friday: My mother enters hospital for the last time. Saturday: She dies. Sunday:We pack the moving van. Monday: We move to the new house, city, job location. Tuesday: Drive back to attend my mothers wake. Wednesday: I officiate my mother's funeral. Thursday: Drive back to the new home, begin the process of unpacking the boxes, getting ready to start the new job. Whew!

Several weeks later, a friend of mine pointed out that out of the top four or five most stressful things in life, I had experienced most of them in a week: death of a close family member, leaving a job, starting a new job, moving homes. Eeek! The only ones I missed were divorce and personal health problems. He asked me how I got through it. As I look back, I realize that the stress was bearable because of hope.

All that week, I could almost feel God's presence surrounding me. I drew hope from His constant communication and reassurance to me. I felt Him in the hospital room. I felt Him in the moving van. I felt Him in the new house. I felt Him in the funeral home. I felt Him in the hours of travel. I felt Him in the presence of friends and family. Thank you God.

Hope is defined "to look forward with confidence". Through that whole stressful week, I can say that because of God, I did look forward with confidence. Even though I was losing so much, changing so much, God let me know, beyond reason or understanding, that He was waiting for me in the future just as much as He was present then.

During that whole time period of stress and loss and transition, I can't say my reactions were always the best. I lost my temper with my family a few times. I withdrew from people big time, afraid of more pain. I became distrustful of some people (in a few cases with good cause). I am still very sorry about all of that. Even though I made some bad choices, God kept the flow of hope going to my soul. I knew, just like I knew my own name, that the future was God-filled. This knowledge, this special ministry of God in my life, didn't make all the bad things go away, but it did give me strength to get through the bad things.

Hope is a silver road beneath our feet that lights our way in the darkest moments, and gives strength and form to the journey. My hope is based on a relationship with God. God is perfect and wonderful; the Bible uses the term "holy". It means set apart. I'm the thing that God is set apart from. I am not perfect and wonderful, I am flawed and ugly and anything but wonderful. The Bible uses the term "sinful". It means to have a life filled with missing the mark. That's me. If it wasn't for Jesus- God in the flesh- coming to earth to live and teach and die and live again, I would have no chance at a relationship with God; no chance at hope. Through Jesus, I can know God. Through Jesus, my sin is forgiven, set aside. Through Jesus I can have a shot at hope.

In dark days of loss, grief, anger and even sin, I choose hope. I choose Jesus. I choose God. I will look forward with confidence. Heck, I will go forward with confidence. Despite setbacks, despite loss, despite the unkindness of strangers or the anger of friends, I will not lose hope. It's God in emotional form. It's a choice. It's faith. It's hope.

Loss

Tue, 26 Jan 2010 09:43:00 GMT

It has been a season of loss for me. Personally and professionally, areas where I thought there was gain have been crushed by loss. Expected areas of 'more' have turned to 'less'. I have some serious questions for God right now, as these areas of loss have been outside of my control. Not to be too dramatic, but in some small way, I feel a little like Job. After a series of devastating losses- family, money, health- he sat down in the dirt and waited for God. Friends came to 'comfort' Job, but ended up accusing him of sin. Even his wife told him to, "curse God and die".

I'm not quite at Job's stage. My season of loss cannot compare to his, but it has been emotionally and spiritually significant for me. I love Job's response to his wife's challenge to curse God and die. He says, "Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?". Wow. His kids are dead, his wealth has evaporated, and his health is gone. His wife wants him to turn his back on God, and accept the resulting (assumed) punishment of death. Job sticks to his faith though. Both good and bad flows from our relationship with God. Do we only want the good? I bet for most of us, if we were honest, the answer would be yes.

Job's friends assumed that because something bad happened in his life, then Job must have sinned in some way to deserve this punishment from God. He argues that he didn't do anything wrong. He was right. We learn that God allowed Satan to take his best shot at Job, so that God could prove a point about Job's faith. This does not mean that every time bad things happen to us, that the devil is at the heart of it, or that we are a stand-in for God in an epic spiritual battle between good and evil. Life is not that simplistic, and God is not that repetitive. I find that when something truly bad happens in life, there are those superstitious Christians who are quick to say (or think), that loss is a result of sin. This is nothing more than sick, twisted neo-paganist thought creeping into the church, and its just plain wrong. Don't believe me? Read John 9.

Jesus and his disciples are walking down the road, and they see a man, blind from birth, begging by the side of the road. The disciples ask Jesus, "Master, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" Pagan doctrine, plain and simple. Jesus blows their minds with his answer, "Neither. This man was born blind that the power of God might be revealed in him." Chew on that morsel for a while. Jesus says that the man's infirmity is not linked to some earthly reason, but rather has purpose so far beyond man's reasoning that it can not be fully comprehended. Jesus then proceeds to heal the man. He can see, but the social fall-out is immense. The Jewish leadership persecutes him, his parents bail on him and he is left alone in world. Only at the end of the chapter, when Jesus returns to him in relationship, do we see hope for him. Shall we accept good from God and not trouble as well?

It really irks me when I hear people talk about bad things happening in their lives as though they were God's victims. "How could God allow ________ to happen?" Those same people would be the first to complain if God set up his creation so that anytime we began to stray off the path, He showed up and stopped us. "How could God be so controlling?" We don't want an overly involved God in our lives if it means setting aside our freedom, but the minute tragedy strikes, we blame him for not showing up. I'm surprised he puts up with the bunch of us. He must be grace indeed! God made us volitional, and has set up his creation with certain consistent rules to ensure that our choices can be linked with reason. If I choose to jump off a cliff, and gravity does its thing, it's hardly God's fault.

We demand to know what He is doing, when the whim takes us, and then we dare to get pissed off when the answer doesn't come. Faith means being OK without an answer. At the end of Job, after our hero has asked some pretty serious questions of God, He shows up in a storm to have a talk with Job. Job asks why. God answers, "I am". The answer was enough for Job. Is it enough for us? When it isn't, we look to old heresies and pagan religions to fill the gap. God says, "I am", but we say we know the secret why (Gnosticism). God says, "I am", but we lay out a better sacrifice to appease his anger (paganism). God says, "I am", and we give the devil the credit (Satanism). The most honest of us will hear God say, "I am", and will either accept that (faith) or walk away. Anything in between is intellectually dishonest, like believing that I can really live in Barbie's Dream House. It's perfect, it's pink, but it is oh so small. Our God is so much bigger than that.

Good King Wenceslas

Wed, 09 Dec 2009 10:20:00 GMT

I am sitting at my local Starbucks, looking out on winter’s first real blow. Snow, rain, ice rain, sleet, slush, all yuck. My one kilometer walk down here was slippery and wet. I helped one guy get his car unstuck, and saw a lot more people and cars slipping and sliding along. Today would be a good day to plunk down in front of a fireplace and read a book. But for work!

My favourite Christmas Carol this year (I seem to find a new one every year) is Good King Wenceslas. It is not precisely a “Christmas Carol”. It takes place on December 26th, the feast of St Stephen, and does not mention Jesus, the nativity, shepherds, angels, are even God for that matter. The words though are so powerful, and the song is filled with Biblical and Christian imagery! It is like a rich dessert which must be eaten slowly, each bite savoured.

The carol lifts the curtain on a cold clear twilight, just after a severe storm. The medieval King, Wenceslas, is stretching his legs after being couped up inside for a day or two.

Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gath'ring winter fuel

The king and his page spot a poor man collecting fallen branches to use for fire wood. There is some debate as to whether this was a legal action or not. In some kingdoms of Europe at the time, like England, a poor man would be allowed to collect fallen branches, but could lose his hand if he chopped down one of the king's trees. Assuming the gathering winter fuel was legal, it would have been hard to do so after a bad storm, with the snow as deep as is described.

The king then asks his page, "Who is that guy?" The page knows him, and tells the king that the poor man lives a good league hence-- at least 3 miles (5 kilometers) away. the poor man is a long way from home on a cold winter's night, where the snow is deep. Imagine carrying fire wood that far!

"Hither, page, and stand by me
If thou know'st it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?"
"Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes' fountain."

The term underneath the mountain likely means the north side of the mountain or large hill, where little sunlight would penetrate in the winter. Right against the forest fence means he lived on the edge of dense trees. Saint Agnes was a bohemian princess of the middle-ages who took on the role of a nursing nun, helping the sick and poor. The fountain was likely a well named for her.

So, what is the king going to do? Track the poor man down because he is breaking the king's law? Ignore the man and head back to the castle? Nope. The king feels compassion on the poor man and calls for supplies.

"Bring me flesh and bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear him thither."
Page and monarch forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude wind's wild lament
And the bitter weather

He tells his page to get meat and wine, rare treats for the poor back then. He also orders pine logs. Not content with allowing the man a few scraps to try to keep warm, the king calls for wood that would be light enough to carry, but would burn longer that a few thin and wet branches. The pine logs would smell great as well! Notice too, the imagery that the elements invoke. Bring me flesh and wine- the elements of the Eucharist. He intends to eat, to feast with this poor man, but also to share (koinonia) his faith with him. They will take communion together, prince and peasant, lord and labourer. The pine logs invoke the tree, or cross, of Christ. The pine perfume of the logs the fragrant offering of Christ to God at his passion. So despite the brutal cold and the deep snow, the king and page set out to feast with a poor stranger.

The focus turns now to the journey of the king and page over that league to the home of the poor man. The wild wind blows, the cold bites through the furs. The night is too cold for the horses, so they walk. The king endeavours to enter into the realm of the serf; incarnation at its most basic. After many steps, and many more to go, the page is filled with dread.

"Sire, the night is darker now
And the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not how,
I can go no longer."
"Mark my footsteps, my good page
Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shalt find the winter's rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly."

The king begins to transform into a mythical, saintly figure. He calls the page to follow exactly in his foot steps, to be shielded from the terrible wind by the kings own body leading the way. He is a walking theophany, the presence of God visited upon the human plane. The king and page have entered into a twilight realm of journey and struggle, and God is present, giving cover to their honourable errand.

So the journey continues. No end is given in the carol. Why? Perhaps the last verse gives insight, as the author transitions from the story to the moral, in the Greek tradition.

In his master's steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed
Therefore, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing

The heat in the sod confirms the king as more than human, but a saint, a vessel for the special presence of God himself. Then the reason for the story- the Christian faith lived out in ministry to the poor.

This hymn was likely translated from a medieval Nordic source, a poem or song, known since the 13th century. The tune is borrowed from a Swedish song which dates from the same period. The translator/ author John Mason Neal lived in England during the industrial revolution. His concern was that of his contemporary, Charles Dickens, for the poor and exploited in Great Britain, and especially in London.

So, a song that does not mention Jesus, God, the nativity, or any other Christmas image, nonetheless invokes the heart of Christmas. The more I study, the more I research and learn, the more I realize that we have not invented missional living ministry, we are just rediscovering it after it being forgotten by many for almost a century. The first nineteen hundred years of Christianity saw no way to separate the gospel from mercy ministries. It was the twentieth century that did that. I guess part of our role is to splice them back together. The early Christians of the first century, right through to the social justice crusaders of the industrial revolution have left large dents in the snow; we need only follow, my good fellow page!

Laughing At Funerals

Wed, 02 Dec 2009 09:43:00 GMT

An uncle of mine died over the week-end after a long illness. My aunt's husband, they had been married 52 years and together for 55 years. What a life togther- 3 children, 7 gand-children and more good memories than could be expressed during the wake and funeral days. I was honoured to lead the funeral service.

My instructions were, "15 minutes- max." He had told his wife, "I don't want any damn priest hovering over my casket for hours." My sister timed me- 15 minutes to the second. But how do you sum up a life in 15 minutes, or for that matter in an hour or a day? You can't. This man was loved by his family. I kept hearing the same thing over and over again from everyone close to him- "strong", "a family man". Then there was the laughter.

Is it appropriate to laugh at a funeral? At this one at least, I think so. For having lost such a significant patriarch, the family had moments of laughter and joy, just reflecting on their relationship with him.

I'm reminded of a fictional funeral from the Mary Tyler Moore Show (if you don't remember this show- get the DVD's! Gold!). Mary's character worked at a TV station in Minnesota in the 1970's. In one episode, everyone from the station attends the funeral of the star of the station's after-school children's program, a clown known as Chuckles. He had been killed by a rogue elephant when dressed as a peanut. (Come on, you laughed!). All of Mary's co-workers cracked jokes leading up to the funeral, but Mary was appalled at their insensitivity. When the funeral actually happened, everyone was serious, as was becoming the situation, except for Mary who inexplicably had an uncontrollable attack of the giggles. Laughing at a funeral!

I can think of several situations where laughter at a funeral would be inappropriate, but in the case of a man who lived his life well, fought a brave battle against a terminal illness, and left behind a legacy of love, joyful laughter seems just about right. We know the tears will come at times like that, but the laughter eases the sting just a little.

I hope my funeral has laughter. If someday, years from now, you attend my funeral, I hope you even giggle.