I've been in Saskatchewan for roughly three weeks. I've also been too busy to really reflect on that. I could only guess at how many new people I've met, but I'd surely miss the mark. Honestly, I couldn't even estimate how many I've actually had conversations with and which ones I could pick out of a police lineup. The truth is, life has happened really fast since I landed in Regina.
I started this blog because I believe there is a value in jotting down the things God does for me. I was motivated after prepping a sermon on Psalm 77, which I realize I had promised to post here at some point. I think it's stuck on my desktop at home, so that will have to wait until I can get back to Nova Scotia. But the point is, more than sharing my study notes, to ensure that God is praised for what He does. One of my key points was how one of our functions as believers is to glorify Him. If God is glorified in how He blesses us, we are thieves for not sharing those blessings with others. I also think this edifies the body and increases the faith of our brothers and sisters, enabling us to pray with confidence in knowing just how many prayers He answers. (Seriously, it's staggering if you stop to take note of it.) But I've been pretty neglectful of this little site.
If I can be so bold, He's done way more in the last three weeks than I could ever articulate here. He does that every day, and we don't even fully understand how much His grace sustains us, so I choose not to preoccupy myself with such endless rabbit trails. Practically speaking, however, most things have some very visible components to them, and our internal feelings of awe and wonder can also be rendered into language. So in one sense, I have no excuse. But I come back to my earlier statement: this has been a lightning pace. And I've struggled to keep up with it.
As someone mentioned to me earlier, some of the best moments are the impromptu conversations or spontaneous coffee meetings. That has been the case. This is such a vibrant community of believers and I have tried to soak in as much as I could justify. I have noticed that God has made it nigh impossible for me to concentrate on work at times because He wanted to teach me less academic but more practical lessons in life. And I have also been tested and stretched in ways I can't explain. Some of the feelings that have trickled through me have been painful, exhilarating, bizarre, uncomfortable, sickening, frustrating, disturbing, and so on. The whole gamut, really. And there seems to be no hint at this stuff stabilizing at any time. It would seem that there is no scheduled season of normalcy that will be defined by routine academic studies. The very nature of this place precludes that kind of thing. But this doesn't absolve me of having to keep ahead of my weekly readings and squeeze in a crop of assignments that looms ahead. I have no idea how it will all be accomplished.
Not at all.
Tonight I did up a few templates in MS Word that will hopefully save some time when I need to format my research papers and essays. I also met with my new senior pastor, Wade, who is just a brilliant and inspiring shepherd. I just know the Lord has orchestrated a lot of the things that have seemed pretty incidental from my limited perspective. But yeah, I am really getting buried in this stuff. I don't know where to begin singing God's praises with this entry, and I am inclined to regard that as a praise note in itself. God is really shattering the James that applied to Briercrest in the spring. Every day, it seems like He plunges His physician fingers into my being and tinkers with something. These are always enlightening little surgeries, but they seldom are pleasant. And it's those moments of relief and rejoicing that I tend to write most about. So let this post also be a break from that motif. A few months ago, I thought I was enrolling here to work toward a degree and to learn some valuable life lessons. The actuality is that I am here to be discipled and to disciple and through that process God will give me a degree anyway. But it's secondary.
I have noticed that God seems to go out of His way to ensure I drop any facade or fantasy about scoring perfectly on everything. There was a time I needed to print something for an assignment, but the library was booked until my class. Another time, I misread the format guide and was docked points for it. In other words, I am to have reasonable expectations here. Last night, I fellowshipped with someone in my dorm instead of doing an hour's worth of studying. God seemed content with my priorities. In truth, it didn't cost me everything, but that wasn't apparent at the time.
So yeah, I've managed to write a lot but hardly say anything. That's okay, though. If I am truly here to learn, He should do most of the talking anyway.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Maritimers' Group and Sunday School
When you think about it, life is just a series of moments that God holds together for us. I've read, heard, and certainly believe that we don't inhale a single breath without His sustaining grace. But just as we have voluntary and involuntary functions--unless you actually tell and direct your stomach in digesting food--so is life. Sometimes we can direct it willfully and sometimes all we can do is ride the wave. For me, I spent a massive chunk of my 29 years on hiding from life, but that didn't stop it from moving on without me. And now that I am, generally speaking, surrendered to God's will, things are happening. This morning was one of those milestones, but first I need to relate a praise note from yesterday.
12 September 2009
A few weeks before school started, I received an email from a kind man of God named Tony. He was a Maritimer living in Caronport who happened to be on staff at Briercrest. In his message he indicated that he hosts a weekly group for Maritimers and invited me to join. And so we convened for the first time this year for brunch at his place. I met his wife Gwen and a bunch of seasoned pros; I think me and another fellow were the only news ones in attendance. Altogether we were about 12, though his message noted that there are roughly 30 people on campus from the Maritimes. Anyway, it was a great blessing to meet the group, and I am certain I will have occasion this year to share some memories with them. After brunch we played a few outdoor games to break the ice. We also spotted a colony of ladybugs that had claimed a tree in his backyard. We're talking hundreds. After that I returned home and did a bit of reading.
It bears mentioning that I also went to Moose Jaw with JP and Mike and purchased a Brita, a tea kettle, and some coffee mix. Instant coffee might not compare to Starbucks, but I will need a more cost effective fix if I'm going to make ends meet this year. I'm actually enjoying my first cup as I write this. The Lord is good, ya?
13 September 2009
Although I had planned to hitch a ride to church with one of my profs, I had been unable to contact him this weekend, so I made other arrangements through Pastor Dyan to get to First Free Methodist in Moose Jaw. I do hope I will have an opportunity to bounce around a bit re: carpooling, because I do want to get to know my prof better, as well as some other families that commute from Caronport. But for this morning I was blessed to make the trek through the kindness of Rob and Jenny and their three kids. (You'll note I don't use last names here out of respect, but I wish I could make them more known to you; they are all delightful people.)
When we arrived there, I was escorted by Pastor Wade to my new classroom. Having chatted with Pastor Dyan about the lesson plan they'd followed over the last three years, it was unofficially decided that I would facilitate a very informal but intentional class that centres on the prophets. Those of you who know me already understand what an anomaly I am, but Isaiah to Malachi is my favourite chunk of Scripture. My goal was not to be so curriculum-based, so I decided that I would try to convey a sense of wonder and therefore wrote God's message to Belshazzar (Daniel 5) on the white board... in Aramaic. I then invited them to tell me what it was, and some very astute responses noted that one of the words appears twice. (I had been forewarned that they were a keen bunch, and it was no lie!) We then discussed the back story a bit, and we considered what it would have been like to be sitting in a banquet hall and have that appear without a human agent. This sort of approach is what I want to pursue this year. Of course, I can't "teach" someone the Bible; that's the Holy Spirit's job, exclusively. But if we can engage in some critical thinking, I believe we can all grow and spur one another on. (Seriously, these teens are so adept that they will teach me more than I teach them; trust me.)
We then discussed what precisely we'd like to study, and the mob response was, strangely enough, Revelation. And if we can sort of pull back a bit here, as I did this morning, it would be very entertaining for me to transport myself back in time and ask James circa secular 2007 how he'd feel about studying the Book of Revelation with a bunch of teens in Moose Jaw.
So yeah, I am psyched for this year. Truly. I feel like I've been blessed with the best Sunday school class in the world, and you just couldn't convince me otherwise. We will be tackling a section of the Bible that I had hoped could wait until next year--we really ought to study Daniel, Zechariah, the parables of the kingdom, select Psalms, and so on, before tackling this. But after the church service Pastor Dyan mentioned to me that many of them would graduate in spring and then move on to other pastures, so I will endeavour to meet the curiosity head on. Speaking of that, we had one strapping young fellow who very politely indicated he might not make it very often, on account of how early class is. I asked him if he'd be more enticed to come if we acted out a lot of these battles and sieges, to which the whole group responded enthusiastically. So if you're trying through Moose Jaw one Sunday morning, and you see a bald, bearded guy playing war with a bunch of Nerf toys and some older teens, we're probably just there in body. In spirit, we could be on Mount Carmel or on our way to exile in Babylon. But the next week we'll be back in the classroom diving into how those events pertain to the great apocalyptic masterpiece of the New Testament. Because, in all conceivable (to me) ways, God has chosen this for me during this phase of my life. And based on everything I know, He's chosen the best for me.
'Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit,' says the LORD Almighty. (Zechariah 4:6)
12 September 2009
A few weeks before school started, I received an email from a kind man of God named Tony. He was a Maritimer living in Caronport who happened to be on staff at Briercrest. In his message he indicated that he hosts a weekly group for Maritimers and invited me to join. And so we convened for the first time this year for brunch at his place. I met his wife Gwen and a bunch of seasoned pros; I think me and another fellow were the only news ones in attendance. Altogether we were about 12, though his message noted that there are roughly 30 people on campus from the Maritimes. Anyway, it was a great blessing to meet the group, and I am certain I will have occasion this year to share some memories with them. After brunch we played a few outdoor games to break the ice. We also spotted a colony of ladybugs that had claimed a tree in his backyard. We're talking hundreds. After that I returned home and did a bit of reading.
It bears mentioning that I also went to Moose Jaw with JP and Mike and purchased a Brita, a tea kettle, and some coffee mix. Instant coffee might not compare to Starbucks, but I will need a more cost effective fix if I'm going to make ends meet this year. I'm actually enjoying my first cup as I write this. The Lord is good, ya?
13 September 2009
Although I had planned to hitch a ride to church with one of my profs, I had been unable to contact him this weekend, so I made other arrangements through Pastor Dyan to get to First Free Methodist in Moose Jaw. I do hope I will have an opportunity to bounce around a bit re: carpooling, because I do want to get to know my prof better, as well as some other families that commute from Caronport. But for this morning I was blessed to make the trek through the kindness of Rob and Jenny and their three kids. (You'll note I don't use last names here out of respect, but I wish I could make them more known to you; they are all delightful people.)
When we arrived there, I was escorted by Pastor Wade to my new classroom. Having chatted with Pastor Dyan about the lesson plan they'd followed over the last three years, it was unofficially decided that I would facilitate a very informal but intentional class that centres on the prophets. Those of you who know me already understand what an anomaly I am, but Isaiah to Malachi is my favourite chunk of Scripture. My goal was not to be so curriculum-based, so I decided that I would try to convey a sense of wonder and therefore wrote God's message to Belshazzar (Daniel 5) on the white board... in Aramaic. I then invited them to tell me what it was, and some very astute responses noted that one of the words appears twice. (I had been forewarned that they were a keen bunch, and it was no lie!) We then discussed the back story a bit, and we considered what it would have been like to be sitting in a banquet hall and have that appear without a human agent. This sort of approach is what I want to pursue this year. Of course, I can't "teach" someone the Bible; that's the Holy Spirit's job, exclusively. But if we can engage in some critical thinking, I believe we can all grow and spur one another on. (Seriously, these teens are so adept that they will teach me more than I teach them; trust me.)
We then discussed what precisely we'd like to study, and the mob response was, strangely enough, Revelation. And if we can sort of pull back a bit here, as I did this morning, it would be very entertaining for me to transport myself back in time and ask James circa secular 2007 how he'd feel about studying the Book of Revelation with a bunch of teens in Moose Jaw.
So yeah, I am psyched for this year. Truly. I feel like I've been blessed with the best Sunday school class in the world, and you just couldn't convince me otherwise. We will be tackling a section of the Bible that I had hoped could wait until next year--we really ought to study Daniel, Zechariah, the parables of the kingdom, select Psalms, and so on, before tackling this. But after the church service Pastor Dyan mentioned to me that many of them would graduate in spring and then move on to other pastures, so I will endeavour to meet the curiosity head on. Speaking of that, we had one strapping young fellow who very politely indicated he might not make it very often, on account of how early class is. I asked him if he'd be more enticed to come if we acted out a lot of these battles and sieges, to which the whole group responded enthusiastically. So if you're trying through Moose Jaw one Sunday morning, and you see a bald, bearded guy playing war with a bunch of Nerf toys and some older teens, we're probably just there in body. In spirit, we could be on Mount Carmel or on our way to exile in Babylon. But the next week we'll be back in the classroom diving into how those events pertain to the great apocalyptic masterpiece of the New Testament. Because, in all conceivable (to me) ways, God has chosen this for me during this phase of my life. And based on everything I know, He's chosen the best for me.
'Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit,' says the LORD Almighty. (Zechariah 4:6)
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Sunday School Position
I know from yesterday that this post will appear as if I submitted it on Saturday. That's because I haven't changed the settings on my profile to reflect my new time zone. I sort don't want to do that in case it will adjust all the timestamps on my blog, so I'll just make it clear that all references to "this morning" refer to 11 September 2009.
So yeah, the interview I wrote about last night. It was fantastic. I met with Pastor Dyan of the First Free Methodist Church in Moose Jaw. We shared our testimonies and talked theology for a while, and I suppose the very title of this post is suggestive enough that I might as well state for the record that she offered me the teaching gig. What needs to be most emphasized is the fact that, in spite of my absolute sloth and procrastination, God recognized my need to be involved (for personal, spiritual, and program requirement reasons) and came through. Without re-reading yesterday's post, which may or may not have made this point clear, I only came into this position because one of my profs announced it to our History of Christianity class on Tuesday. I was the only one who bit on the chomp, but I immediately felt that God was speaking to me and me alone. (God, unlike people, isn't ambiguous.)
I am stoked for several reasons. First, though Pastor Dyan and I share similar theological stances, our particular interests are miles apart. She's passionate about the New Testament; I'm passionate about the Old. She gravitates away from the Prophets, whereas I've spent nearly two years digging and wrestling with that portion of Scripture. So basically, there is virtually no risk of me covering territory that class has studied over the last few years. (Do you get a sense that God's view of our lives is so much more complete than our tunnel vision?)
So the plan for Sunday is for me to meet with the class, consisting of mid- to late-teens, and deciding on a game plan for this semester. If all goes well, I hope to serve in this role at the church for the three remaining years I'll be completing my BA. I may be here beyond that, but the plan is to get tapped in at a local church and grow that way. Aside from my studies (or perhaps more important than), serving God is the reason I'm here at this time in my life. God knew where I fit in, and so He saved me a lot of frustration and report writing and dealing with the Field Education coordinators. Not to mention guesswork. So yeah, let this praise note be as self-evident as it seems from my vantage point. I prayed for Him to find me a place, and He was quick to respond. We serve a living God who cares for His flock, not some otherworldly conceptual god that dies with the philosophers who invent it.
Another praise note before I sign off tonight: I had a pretty great chat with one of the dorm students who lives across from me. We shared our testimonies and I felt so encouraged and healthy in doing that. God has truly immersed me in a healthy, vibrant community, and as much as I miss everyone back home, He's made the transition as smooth as He could. Sure, I had a cold this week, and I lost some sleep, and there were lots of forms and seminars and workshops and errands... but when you get right down to it, all we have are our relationships with the Lord. Sometimes we allow the details to get in the way. I pray we all learn to lean on Him for everything and, in so doing, realize our purpose in life: to bring Him glory.
So yeah, the interview I wrote about last night. It was fantastic. I met with Pastor Dyan of the First Free Methodist Church in Moose Jaw. We shared our testimonies and talked theology for a while, and I suppose the very title of this post is suggestive enough that I might as well state for the record that she offered me the teaching gig. What needs to be most emphasized is the fact that, in spite of my absolute sloth and procrastination, God recognized my need to be involved (for personal, spiritual, and program requirement reasons) and came through. Without re-reading yesterday's post, which may or may not have made this point clear, I only came into this position because one of my profs announced it to our History of Christianity class on Tuesday. I was the only one who bit on the chomp, but I immediately felt that God was speaking to me and me alone. (God, unlike people, isn't ambiguous.)
I am stoked for several reasons. First, though Pastor Dyan and I share similar theological stances, our particular interests are miles apart. She's passionate about the New Testament; I'm passionate about the Old. She gravitates away from the Prophets, whereas I've spent nearly two years digging and wrestling with that portion of Scripture. So basically, there is virtually no risk of me covering territory that class has studied over the last few years. (Do you get a sense that God's view of our lives is so much more complete than our tunnel vision?)
So the plan for Sunday is for me to meet with the class, consisting of mid- to late-teens, and deciding on a game plan for this semester. If all goes well, I hope to serve in this role at the church for the three remaining years I'll be completing my BA. I may be here beyond that, but the plan is to get tapped in at a local church and grow that way. Aside from my studies (or perhaps more important than), serving God is the reason I'm here at this time in my life. God knew where I fit in, and so He saved me a lot of frustration and report writing and dealing with the Field Education coordinators. Not to mention guesswork. So yeah, let this praise note be as self-evident as it seems from my vantage point. I prayed for Him to find me a place, and He was quick to respond. We serve a living God who cares for His flock, not some otherworldly conceptual god that dies with the philosophers who invent it.
Another praise note before I sign off tonight: I had a pretty great chat with one of the dorm students who lives across from me. We shared our testimonies and I felt so encouraged and healthy in doing that. God has truly immersed me in a healthy, vibrant community, and as much as I miss everyone back home, He's made the transition as smooth as He could. Sure, I had a cold this week, and I lost some sleep, and there were lots of forms and seminars and workshops and errands... but when you get right down to it, all we have are our relationships with the Lord. Sometimes we allow the details to get in the way. I pray we all learn to lean on Him for everything and, in so doing, realize our purpose in life: to bring Him glory.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Dusting Off This Blog
Speaking of dust, they have an abundant supply in the prairies. As I write this, my nose is recovering from excessive tissue friction. Yes, folks, the Christian life is not a ticket to perfect earthly health or comfort, but it is the promise of future glory. Truth be told, a lot of aspects concerning my transition to full-time studenthood did not happen as I would have planned. Yesterday, after accepting irreconcilable lifestyle differences, one of my roommates moved out leaving me with a room to myself and another guy in the adjacent one. I could go into extensive detail, but that wouldn't be fair to the situation. The pertinent info is this: the guy I was paired with, who happens to boast many virtuous qualities, can't sleep unless he has the windows open and multiple fans blazing. The night before he moved out, I tried to do the Christ-like submit thing and wore a toque to bed (also used winter blanket). But as reality would have it, this is not conducive to my health. Nor is the arid climate or dust in the air, but it doesn't help to stir it up as if trying to FedEX these particles into the nether regions of my lungs. As it happened, this dorm is at half capacity, and my brother in the Lord who could minister quite comfortably in Alaska said he'd prefer to have his own place. I did want at least one roommate, so this matter was put to rest. There are many, many other factors involved here, but I am glad it was handled maturely by all parties. While I will now endeavour to relate some special moments from the last couple weeks here, they must be understood against the story related above. God has been testing us, and it hasn't always been pleasant. But the truth is we serve a God who prefers our eternal comfort (and therefore our spiritual growth) over earthly luxuries. Strangely enough, even God acquiesced when we made it known that the original configuration of our apartment wouldn't carry us until April. But I digress.
A couple days ago, God played something of a joke on me. I know it was him because I could just see it coming. Have you ever been in the midst of a really vivid dream, when suddenly one of the people in your mind's projector turns to you and says, "Heads up, you're about to knock a bunch of stuff on the floor!" It happens really fast, but you immediately leap from the covers in response to some abrupt noise which, upon further inspection, seems to have come from your errant elbow hitting some items on the night table. This is what happened to me in a conscious state the other day when, as I was walking to the point, feeling like an absolute wreck, a cricket was there ahead of me some twelve feet or so. I thought, wouldn't it be funny if he jumped into my sandals. And as I am when I sleep, I wasn't prepared for it; I had just been told ahead of time. My reflexes were probably comical to anyone who might have seen me kick off my sandal and almost fall on my bum in the process. I sort of glanced at the sky and told God it would be nice if He sort of cut me some slack that day. The voice I heard in response said, "You're still under the impression that I'm going to make life easy on you just because you've taken a leap of faith. But part of my faithfulness means developing your perseverance."
Well, point taken, Lord.
So here are the other things I wish to praise Him for, the ones that are easier and more carefree. Not sure which ones are most important, but with God, who can't be over-praised, I'm learning to just live minute by minute.
3 September 2009
I met a friend who will no doubt be a lifelong one, JP. Met him at freshmen chapel and he invited me to Moose Jaw, so I saw Moose Jaw for the first time. He's a little more senior than the average student, so we listened to a lot of nostalgic 90s tunes as we drove down the highway from Caronport. If your mind works like mine does, there was one of those "movie" moments when the camera pans back a little and the characters are seen just staring off into the distance. Even though we can't read thoughts, we just know they're at once reflecting on where they are and yet not harboring a conscious thought at all. The scene itself is what speaks, and that's how it was that day.
5 September 2009
I participated in the annual Briercrest Olympics, which involved some pretty bizarre events. One involved loading as many people as we possibly could into a van (I think we squeezed more than 30 in there) while the remaining members of our dorm pushed the van around a designated race course. We were scored on how many we fit inside and the time it took to run the lap. Another event involved dragging people across an ice surface as they sat on some sporting equipment. We also had to sit on our backs in a circle while someone hopped aboard a dusty mattress, which we then passed around the circle as many times as we could (these were all timed events, by the way). Anyway, at the end of the evening us old fogies took the Cup. I think it's been quite some time since the mature dorm people won the event. It was a great little feather in this life's cap, I'll tell you.
6 September 2009
This was the last day of orientation and we all had to gather for one big assembly in the main sanctuary at the Hildebrand Chapel. (It's cooler than the name suggests, by the way.) We sat through a series of "get to know the profs" interviews, listened to a brief message, and then a motley group of students led worship. (You can't see it, but I'm kind of pausing here for a second and tearing up a bit.) I guess I need to accept that I'll never have words to describe that experience. As someone who is over-analytical and reservedly introverted, it's hard to "let go" in front of others, especially strangers. But I swear this: God's Spirit was so present in that chapel, and so powerful, that I rejoiced in bawling before everyone who saw me. It was like a tidal wave of love just filled my being and overflowed, and I am so tremendously and indescribably blessed to serve a God who is infinitely more than He revealed of Himself that night, but that encounter was enough to convince me He's worth spending an eternity chasing after. I wish I could say more, but it wouldn't suffice.
8 September 2009
Orientation week was brutal. We had so many sessions and workgroups and seminars that a lot of important items were easily overlooked. It took me and the roomies three days to even contact SaskTel, who are the local provider in Saskatchewan. But without question the most important unfinished task by this time was my lack of a volunteer ministry position. I need six such credits to graduate, and because of God so graciously transferring 8 credits toward my degree, I only have six (out of eight) terms to get these credits. Unless I want to go way out of my way to do other things, but that's beside the point. (For the record, I could probably get some references from past experience and get some of these knocked off my checklist, but I want involvement while I'm here.) So I went to my History of Christianity class and one of the first things the prof mentioned was how his church was looking for a Sunday school teacher. He gave me all the relevant contact details, and I should also mention that I have an interview with the senior pastor tomorrow to see whether I'll be a good fit. It's also the same denomination as I attended back home, and while I don't subscribe to their entire roster of doctrines I think this is a confirmation anyway. So God has been overly faithful in providing things I had been overly slack in initiating.
Speaking in general terms now, I would just say that I have met more people in such a compact amount of time than I have so far in life. It's been an incredible experience in which God will no doubt continue to break and refine me for His purposes and my good. In case it's not self-evident, I wouldn't be anywhere else right now. While I miss and have been praying for everyone back home, I am learning something that until now I had just read but never understood. I think it's speaking about how we need to suffer loss to appreciate good gifts, and there might even be a hint of how a grain needs to die to produce a crop:
"For I wrote you out of great distress and anguish of heart and with many tears, not to grieve you but to let you know the depth of my love for you." (2 Corinthians 2:4) (And, yeah, I'm taking this verse slightly out of context. So sue me. :D)
A couple days ago, God played something of a joke on me. I know it was him because I could just see it coming. Have you ever been in the midst of a really vivid dream, when suddenly one of the people in your mind's projector turns to you and says, "Heads up, you're about to knock a bunch of stuff on the floor!" It happens really fast, but you immediately leap from the covers in response to some abrupt noise which, upon further inspection, seems to have come from your errant elbow hitting some items on the night table. This is what happened to me in a conscious state the other day when, as I was walking to the point, feeling like an absolute wreck, a cricket was there ahead of me some twelve feet or so. I thought, wouldn't it be funny if he jumped into my sandals. And as I am when I sleep, I wasn't prepared for it; I had just been told ahead of time. My reflexes were probably comical to anyone who might have seen me kick off my sandal and almost fall on my bum in the process. I sort of glanced at the sky and told God it would be nice if He sort of cut me some slack that day. The voice I heard in response said, "You're still under the impression that I'm going to make life easy on you just because you've taken a leap of faith. But part of my faithfulness means developing your perseverance."
Well, point taken, Lord.
So here are the other things I wish to praise Him for, the ones that are easier and more carefree. Not sure which ones are most important, but with God, who can't be over-praised, I'm learning to just live minute by minute.
3 September 2009
I met a friend who will no doubt be a lifelong one, JP. Met him at freshmen chapel and he invited me to Moose Jaw, so I saw Moose Jaw for the first time. He's a little more senior than the average student, so we listened to a lot of nostalgic 90s tunes as we drove down the highway from Caronport. If your mind works like mine does, there was one of those "movie" moments when the camera pans back a little and the characters are seen just staring off into the distance. Even though we can't read thoughts, we just know they're at once reflecting on where they are and yet not harboring a conscious thought at all. The scene itself is what speaks, and that's how it was that day.
5 September 2009
I participated in the annual Briercrest Olympics, which involved some pretty bizarre events. One involved loading as many people as we possibly could into a van (I think we squeezed more than 30 in there) while the remaining members of our dorm pushed the van around a designated race course. We were scored on how many we fit inside and the time it took to run the lap. Another event involved dragging people across an ice surface as they sat on some sporting equipment. We also had to sit on our backs in a circle while someone hopped aboard a dusty mattress, which we then passed around the circle as many times as we could (these were all timed events, by the way). Anyway, at the end of the evening us old fogies took the Cup. I think it's been quite some time since the mature dorm people won the event. It was a great little feather in this life's cap, I'll tell you.
6 September 2009
This was the last day of orientation and we all had to gather for one big assembly in the main sanctuary at the Hildebrand Chapel. (It's cooler than the name suggests, by the way.) We sat through a series of "get to know the profs" interviews, listened to a brief message, and then a motley group of students led worship. (You can't see it, but I'm kind of pausing here for a second and tearing up a bit.) I guess I need to accept that I'll never have words to describe that experience. As someone who is over-analytical and reservedly introverted, it's hard to "let go" in front of others, especially strangers. But I swear this: God's Spirit was so present in that chapel, and so powerful, that I rejoiced in bawling before everyone who saw me. It was like a tidal wave of love just filled my being and overflowed, and I am so tremendously and indescribably blessed to serve a God who is infinitely more than He revealed of Himself that night, but that encounter was enough to convince me He's worth spending an eternity chasing after. I wish I could say more, but it wouldn't suffice.
8 September 2009
Orientation week was brutal. We had so many sessions and workgroups and seminars that a lot of important items were easily overlooked. It took me and the roomies three days to even contact SaskTel, who are the local provider in Saskatchewan. But without question the most important unfinished task by this time was my lack of a volunteer ministry position. I need six such credits to graduate, and because of God so graciously transferring 8 credits toward my degree, I only have six (out of eight) terms to get these credits. Unless I want to go way out of my way to do other things, but that's beside the point. (For the record, I could probably get some references from past experience and get some of these knocked off my checklist, but I want involvement while I'm here.) So I went to my History of Christianity class and one of the first things the prof mentioned was how his church was looking for a Sunday school teacher. He gave me all the relevant contact details, and I should also mention that I have an interview with the senior pastor tomorrow to see whether I'll be a good fit. It's also the same denomination as I attended back home, and while I don't subscribe to their entire roster of doctrines I think this is a confirmation anyway. So God has been overly faithful in providing things I had been overly slack in initiating.
Speaking in general terms now, I would just say that I have met more people in such a compact amount of time than I have so far in life. It's been an incredible experience in which God will no doubt continue to break and refine me for His purposes and my good. In case it's not self-evident, I wouldn't be anywhere else right now. While I miss and have been praying for everyone back home, I am learning something that until now I had just read but never understood. I think it's speaking about how we need to suffer loss to appreciate good gifts, and there might even be a hint of how a grain needs to die to produce a crop:
"For I wrote you out of great distress and anguish of heart and with many tears, not to grieve you but to let you know the depth of my love for you." (2 Corinthians 2:4) (And, yeah, I'm taking this verse slightly out of context. So sue me. :D)
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
The Poetry of Life
In studying the unity and interrelation of Scripture, I’ve discovered that a student of the Word—at least this one—is most inspired to dwell in a holistic medium between two extremes: the Bible’s simplicity and the Bible’s complexity. The Bible is simple in that its truth statements, especially the soteriological (salvific), can be understood by everyone. But then you dig beneath the surface and study things like internal references and textual criticism and stumble onto an endless world of self-witness. Simply stated, the Bible is so incredibly self-sufficient and unified in its message on all levels of understanding that God’s authorship gets more impressive the more I pursue understanding it. And yet, being a fleshly human, I am compelled to focus on the poetry, of God’s beautiful penmanship, in my own life.
Something about my journey to Briercrest, especially the travel here, caught me off guard. I think it happened at the Wesleyan, during a dimly lit worship service, followed by a dynamite sermon, and a lot of conviction throughout. My personality type can render me a bit of a closed book at times, but I was sobbing through many of those familiar choruses. And I was captivated by how uniformly true and necessary the sermon was, basically about how we serve a God who can not only save by sanctify. And we need to claim it.
And as I said my goodbyes and shook hands and hugged a few people, I realized that my life as a Wesleyan convert in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia had reached its vertex during that same service, and instantly—not to mention rapidly—my life spilled back from the summit to which God had led me and tumbled back into what I could only describe as a symbolic valley in my life. The very sequence in which I said goodbye was like an inverse of how I had met those people. Then, as I went home, I said goodbye to my cat, who, for better or worse, for whatever an animal’s love is worth, has been a faithful companion to me these past seven years, having come into my life (and, in this case, out) during a time of upheaval. Last time it was being left in the lurch, this time it was being moved three times zones west. The first time I stayed; the second time I left. If you study Hebrew poetry, these bracketing forms of switching things up are sometimes called a chiasmus, though I am abusing the analogy a bit.
From there, I engaged in a battle with an old nemesis: my stomach. Yeah, my digestive system was so volatile that I just refused to eat. Wound up buying several brands of anti-nausea medication, and consumed relatively high doses. But a person just can’t handle a case of the runs when carrying three pieces of luggage through an airport. So I closed for business for a couple days. I confess, my preference would have been for God to bail me out of this one and rebuke my body, but I guess there is no growth or potential to learn perseverance in that kind of scenario. Anyway. My time in Nova Scotia winded down the same way it had begun: in the dark. From the womb to the world, and now from the world, into a plane, at the mercy of technology and turbulence and absolute, sheer, raw grace. I left my parents behind in Nova Scotia, to whom God had given me over, not as property but for them to be stewards over me, and I don’t know how obscure this post sounds, but there was an extreme breaking free in this trip. In many ways, I was returned into God’s possession in ways that transcend Psalm 50 (where God talks about everything in creation being His anyway, regardless of our perception). But I digress. I remember pondering these things as we drove to the airport at 4:00 a.m. and passed by what seemed like a forest of pylons, reflecting striped white and orange in the light rain that fell from heaven.
It’s funny. In my head, this post was a lot less cerebral. I wrote several versions of it between Halifax and Regina. In my head, now lost in the shuffle of orientation and unpacking and insane landscapes of those Canadian amber waves I’d heard about. Okay, so they’re a little dull and sun scorched at this point, but for me it’s still quite a wild experience to see the sky dominate the land by such a powerful kind of leverage. I don’t even feel that tall here, because the sky has this place in a seemingly unending...umm, insert whatever the correct term is when a wrestler manages to suppress his opponent.
Anyway, I need to relate the “movie poster” moment of my trip here, and then shut down this machine. (I’m writing this in Word to be posted later when I have the Internet in my dorm room. [And yeah, I’ve left out countless other details.]) It was when we were just about to take off from Toronto. I was extremely conscious of the fact I had never been west of Toronto. I was aware that, within moments, I would be travelling in territory that would completely foreign to me. I looked through the window of the plane at the grass that flanked the runway. Thought for a brief moment how much work it took to maintain the field. Then I prayed to the Lord how odd it was that He’d brought me there. I started to ramble-pray like I do so often. “God, I know I don’t deserve this but I am glad you... and on and on.” It was as if I was trying to fill a silence between God and I that was more compelling as silence. This is a character flaw of mine that He will surely work to correct while I’m here. I need to relax. If you know me, you know that. But then it happened. Amid all the flurry of thoughts that I and the enemy were trying to splatter over that moment in my life, I heard these words in my head: “Be still, and know that I am God.” I saw a gust of wind dust through the grass, pushing it back like a hairbrush. The plane started up the runway until we lifted from the ground and pierced through the clouds. I beheld the world as God would see it if He were limited to our human vision. A place where the sun always shines, where God can look down upon all the feasts and celebrations and disasters of the world. Where there is a kind of transcendence, even for this planet. And I knew that, invisibly, without a conversation, without a need for conversation, God had changed me forever. And He wasn’t done.
Something about my journey to Briercrest, especially the travel here, caught me off guard. I think it happened at the Wesleyan, during a dimly lit worship service, followed by a dynamite sermon, and a lot of conviction throughout. My personality type can render me a bit of a closed book at times, but I was sobbing through many of those familiar choruses. And I was captivated by how uniformly true and necessary the sermon was, basically about how we serve a God who can not only save by sanctify. And we need to claim it.
And as I said my goodbyes and shook hands and hugged a few people, I realized that my life as a Wesleyan convert in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia had reached its vertex during that same service, and instantly—not to mention rapidly—my life spilled back from the summit to which God had led me and tumbled back into what I could only describe as a symbolic valley in my life. The very sequence in which I said goodbye was like an inverse of how I had met those people. Then, as I went home, I said goodbye to my cat, who, for better or worse, for whatever an animal’s love is worth, has been a faithful companion to me these past seven years, having come into my life (and, in this case, out) during a time of upheaval. Last time it was being left in the lurch, this time it was being moved three times zones west. The first time I stayed; the second time I left. If you study Hebrew poetry, these bracketing forms of switching things up are sometimes called a chiasmus, though I am abusing the analogy a bit.
From there, I engaged in a battle with an old nemesis: my stomach. Yeah, my digestive system was so volatile that I just refused to eat. Wound up buying several brands of anti-nausea medication, and consumed relatively high doses. But a person just can’t handle a case of the runs when carrying three pieces of luggage through an airport. So I closed for business for a couple days. I confess, my preference would have been for God to bail me out of this one and rebuke my body, but I guess there is no growth or potential to learn perseverance in that kind of scenario. Anyway. My time in Nova Scotia winded down the same way it had begun: in the dark. From the womb to the world, and now from the world, into a plane, at the mercy of technology and turbulence and absolute, sheer, raw grace. I left my parents behind in Nova Scotia, to whom God had given me over, not as property but for them to be stewards over me, and I don’t know how obscure this post sounds, but there was an extreme breaking free in this trip. In many ways, I was returned into God’s possession in ways that transcend Psalm 50 (where God talks about everything in creation being His anyway, regardless of our perception). But I digress. I remember pondering these things as we drove to the airport at 4:00 a.m. and passed by what seemed like a forest of pylons, reflecting striped white and orange in the light rain that fell from heaven.
It’s funny. In my head, this post was a lot less cerebral. I wrote several versions of it between Halifax and Regina. In my head, now lost in the shuffle of orientation and unpacking and insane landscapes of those Canadian amber waves I’d heard about. Okay, so they’re a little dull and sun scorched at this point, but for me it’s still quite a wild experience to see the sky dominate the land by such a powerful kind of leverage. I don’t even feel that tall here, because the sky has this place in a seemingly unending...umm, insert whatever the correct term is when a wrestler manages to suppress his opponent.
Anyway, I need to relate the “movie poster” moment of my trip here, and then shut down this machine. (I’m writing this in Word to be posted later when I have the Internet in my dorm room. [And yeah, I’ve left out countless other details.]) It was when we were just about to take off from Toronto. I was extremely conscious of the fact I had never been west of Toronto. I was aware that, within moments, I would be travelling in territory that would completely foreign to me. I looked through the window of the plane at the grass that flanked the runway. Thought for a brief moment how much work it took to maintain the field. Then I prayed to the Lord how odd it was that He’d brought me there. I started to ramble-pray like I do so often. “God, I know I don’t deserve this but I am glad you... and on and on.” It was as if I was trying to fill a silence between God and I that was more compelling as silence. This is a character flaw of mine that He will surely work to correct while I’m here. I need to relax. If you know me, you know that. But then it happened. Amid all the flurry of thoughts that I and the enemy were trying to splatter over that moment in my life, I heard these words in my head: “Be still, and know that I am God.” I saw a gust of wind dust through the grass, pushing it back like a hairbrush. The plane started up the runway until we lifted from the ground and pierced through the clouds. I beheld the world as God would see it if He were limited to our human vision. A place where the sun always shines, where God can look down upon all the feasts and celebrations and disasters of the world. Where there is a kind of transcendence, even for this planet. And I knew that, invisibly, without a conversation, without a need for conversation, God had changed me forever. And He wasn’t done.
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