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)
Sunday, September 13, 2009
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.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Rafting Trip & Brotherly Gathering
I'm having one of those moments where God's presence is really strong. I'm probably missing an opportunity to learn something or relax with Him, but I just really feel like sharing it. Whatever a blog is worth in the grand scheme, that is. But let's be up front about something nonbelievers really miss out on: the Holy Spirit is a romantic at heart. He loves to variously tickle and melt your heart.
I've been meaning to jot down several events from the last week. Since tonight is most fresh, I'll just start with it.
25 August 2009 (6:15 p.m.-11:00 p.m.)
The guys came over for poker and burgers. It's the first time most of them had been here, and it'll be the last time for a while that we're all in the same room together. The roster seems to change every time we get together, as schedules tend to fluctuate, but the core group is usually the same. And it was a guy's night par excellence. From the themes we covered in our jokes to our shared esteem for hamburger patties. It was authentic. They trickled out of here maybe an hour ago, but Matt and his parents lagged behind a bit. My folks and I sat around chatting until the night was truly over. And then it set in: I'm effectively out of calendar events between the present and Briercrest. I could make another appointment, and I could slip into having something nearer to look forward to, but this big life change ain't going anywhere. I don't want it to. But I guess, for all that I dismiss about Yarmouth, it hasn't sunk in that I'm leaving. And that's a weird thing to find out after filling one's gullet. You get that weird sense of controlled diziness where you feel like you're viewing the world through a soap opera tint. It's half dream state, half interstate. Anyway, I can't thank God enough for giving me wonderful friends. Some day, when I re-read this blog post, may I not need it to remind me to pray for the following wonderful people: Matt B., AJ, Matt F., Jon, Mike, Scott, Chad, Dick and Doreen.
23 August 2009
Hurricane Bill. Usually, the mention of a hurricane conjures images of floods and destruction and people who've been ejected from their homes. Bill was different. He grazed our province en route to dissipation, and I don't mean this to make light of those who did suffer loss as a result of his personified wake. But what he did for our church was beautiful. I emerged from the house at roughly 10:00 a.m. and dashed to my car, hardly getting sprinkled with warm, tropical drops. Not realizing he would leave our area unscathed, I decided to gas up my car en route to picking up a friend for church. By the time I reached the pumps, the wind was gusting a good huff, deflecting the rain horizontally through what should have been a central, sheltered gas pump. I spent the rest of the morning drenched on my back side. When we got to church, the power was out. I was kind of dumbstruck and wet, but then when I spied people bringing chairs into the foyer, which was lit from the outside, I knew something special was about to happen. We had an acoustic piano in the entrance, which served as our worship focus along with an acoustic guitar and set of bongos. It was probably the most intimate church experience I've had since I joined the Wesleyan church almost two years ago. AJ preached a dynamite sermon (i.e. God speaking through him), and the rest of the day was quite pleasant. Sunny and everything. So yeah, Hurricane Bill. We hardly knew ye, but we won't forget ya.
21 August 2009
Not sure why God has been so kind to me lately, but I received an invitation last week to join a group from church who were going tidal bore rafting. The plan was to meet in the church parking lot at 4:45 a.m. so we could make the trip to Shubenacadie for 9:30. Chad, Tiffany, Colton, and I shared a car and a lot of laughs throughout the long return drive. Can't say what we spoke about specifically, but I am truly blessed to have such great and encouraging friends. I know God has a lot of new ones waiting for me in Saskatchewan, but in a way it feels like I'm just catching my stride here.
I hope, if anything, people who stumble onto this blog appreciate how much God has given me. It's nice to re-read some of these posts and trace a few of my life's events, but it occurs to me that I didn't copy over my testimony from my other blog (try this), which means this one is sorely lacking in standaloneness. If my life sounds like an adventure, it's because it is. But things weren't always this way. These posts are penned by someone who more than once contemplated suicide and had been caught up in drugs and the whole business. God hasn't given me a new chance in life; He's given me a new life, period. Not just through the events I've mentioned so far, either; He goes way beyond that. People are finding me, and I'm finding people. God is everywhere. I receive encouraging notes all the time, from friends I had drifted from or never really known until now. (Natalie, you've been a great help lately! May God bless and keep you and your family!) So yeah, this journey is just beginning. This is an odd place to insert a gospel message, but I will just say for the record that it doesn't matter what relation to me or what you typed into Google that has brought you here. I dare you to make a sincere plea with Jesus and tell me He's not real! But if you're like I had become, sincerity is a dangerous, vulnerable place you might not want to go. It's the kind of thing that only experience can explain; words won't suffice. That's why I try not to Bible thump people, though I fail miserably at times. But yeah, you can think me insane or deceived or delusional, but I nothing can pry me away from Jesus. I want to die in Him and He in me. I like my chances at a hope and a future. :)
I've been meaning to jot down several events from the last week. Since tonight is most fresh, I'll just start with it.
25 August 2009 (6:15 p.m.-11:00 p.m.)
The guys came over for poker and burgers. It's the first time most of them had been here, and it'll be the last time for a while that we're all in the same room together. The roster seems to change every time we get together, as schedules tend to fluctuate, but the core group is usually the same. And it was a guy's night par excellence. From the themes we covered in our jokes to our shared esteem for hamburger patties. It was authentic. They trickled out of here maybe an hour ago, but Matt and his parents lagged behind a bit. My folks and I sat around chatting until the night was truly over. And then it set in: I'm effectively out of calendar events between the present and Briercrest. I could make another appointment, and I could slip into having something nearer to look forward to, but this big life change ain't going anywhere. I don't want it to. But I guess, for all that I dismiss about Yarmouth, it hasn't sunk in that I'm leaving. And that's a weird thing to find out after filling one's gullet. You get that weird sense of controlled diziness where you feel like you're viewing the world through a soap opera tint. It's half dream state, half interstate. Anyway, I can't thank God enough for giving me wonderful friends. Some day, when I re-read this blog post, may I not need it to remind me to pray for the following wonderful people: Matt B., AJ, Matt F., Jon, Mike, Scott, Chad, Dick and Doreen.
23 August 2009
Hurricane Bill. Usually, the mention of a hurricane conjures images of floods and destruction and people who've been ejected from their homes. Bill was different. He grazed our province en route to dissipation, and I don't mean this to make light of those who did suffer loss as a result of his personified wake. But what he did for our church was beautiful. I emerged from the house at roughly 10:00 a.m. and dashed to my car, hardly getting sprinkled with warm, tropical drops. Not realizing he would leave our area unscathed, I decided to gas up my car en route to picking up a friend for church. By the time I reached the pumps, the wind was gusting a good huff, deflecting the rain horizontally through what should have been a central, sheltered gas pump. I spent the rest of the morning drenched on my back side. When we got to church, the power was out. I was kind of dumbstruck and wet, but then when I spied people bringing chairs into the foyer, which was lit from the outside, I knew something special was about to happen. We had an acoustic piano in the entrance, which served as our worship focus along with an acoustic guitar and set of bongos. It was probably the most intimate church experience I've had since I joined the Wesleyan church almost two years ago. AJ preached a dynamite sermon (i.e. God speaking through him), and the rest of the day was quite pleasant. Sunny and everything. So yeah, Hurricane Bill. We hardly knew ye, but we won't forget ya.
21 August 2009
Not sure why God has been so kind to me lately, but I received an invitation last week to join a group from church who were going tidal bore rafting. The plan was to meet in the church parking lot at 4:45 a.m. so we could make the trip to Shubenacadie for 9:30. Chad, Tiffany, Colton, and I shared a car and a lot of laughs throughout the long return drive. Can't say what we spoke about specifically, but I am truly blessed to have such great and encouraging friends. I know God has a lot of new ones waiting for me in Saskatchewan, but in a way it feels like I'm just catching my stride here.
I hope, if anything, people who stumble onto this blog appreciate how much God has given me. It's nice to re-read some of these posts and trace a few of my life's events, but it occurs to me that I didn't copy over my testimony from my other blog (try this), which means this one is sorely lacking in standaloneness. If my life sounds like an adventure, it's because it is. But things weren't always this way. These posts are penned by someone who more than once contemplated suicide and had been caught up in drugs and the whole business. God hasn't given me a new chance in life; He's given me a new life, period. Not just through the events I've mentioned so far, either; He goes way beyond that. People are finding me, and I'm finding people. God is everywhere. I receive encouraging notes all the time, from friends I had drifted from or never really known until now. (Natalie, you've been a great help lately! May God bless and keep you and your family!) So yeah, this journey is just beginning. This is an odd place to insert a gospel message, but I will just say for the record that it doesn't matter what relation to me or what you typed into Google that has brought you here. I dare you to make a sincere plea with Jesus and tell me He's not real! But if you're like I had become, sincerity is a dangerous, vulnerable place you might not want to go. It's the kind of thing that only experience can explain; words won't suffice. That's why I try not to Bible thump people, though I fail miserably at times. But yeah, you can think me insane or deceived or delusional, but I nothing can pry me away from Jesus. I want to die in Him and He in me. I like my chances at a hope and a future. :)
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Time Winding Down in Nova Scotia
Today's been a long day. Actually, this week promises to drag on. But not in the negative sense, more like the make-the-most-of-my-last-two-weeks-at-home sense. Two months ago, before a lesson-filled summer, I had fresh eyes. Nova Scotia was like a dear friend and a chapter of my life that would henceforth never be the same. I was finally striking out (in the on-my-own sense). But then after the pitfalls and habits and tendencies the devil knows about, I spent most of my summer fighting with him. Didn't backslide like last year, but I certainly missed a lot of opportunities this season. And recently God has done a great deal to restore me.
I think it's fitting that I return to blogging with some "embarassing" testimonies. Well, just one but a biggie. As someone who once preached that the best way out of a bad situation is to sing God's praises, I'm going to relate one of the weirdest experiences I've had. Anyone who reads this is likely aware that I had an issue with my kidneys in June. You may also recall that I was convinced God had healed me. Well, I truly did believe it. Today it was confirmed. But sometimes confirmations come in odd forms. In my case it meant a cystoscopy that my doctor referred me to in June. After one cancellation--for which I confess I was relieved--it was rebooked and happened today. If you aren't familiar, I'll save you Googling it. It's a procedure in which a camera is inserted through the urethra until it reaches the bladder. The awkward to pain ratio is 1000:1, easy. And I praise God for yielding both a clean bill of health and heck of a lot of composure throughout the process, from the initial referral to the waiting game to the actual procedure. And now, in a sense, I am fully cleared to move to Saskatchewan.
God's faithfulness can't be put into words, so I might as well throw in very matter-of-factly that my student loan came through yesterday. He continues to provide.
But I guess, if this makes any sense, I'm most grateful for a restored sense of appreciation. On the way home today, after getting up real early, driving to Kentville with an hour and a half to spare, waiting for three hours to get into day surgery, and all that jazz, I had determined to catch up on lost sleep on the way home. (I wasn't driving, as you might deduce.) But I couldn't. I looked out at the rolling hills and farmland in the Annapolis Valley, and I realized just how beautiful this province is. Again, I don't have words, but I would like to zero in on one little observation. I've been trying to allow God to heal me and disciple me in such a way as to restore a child's spirit in me. It's hard to explain, especially to analytical people like me, but I had a really emotional moment at one point. It doesn't bother me that I can't explain why, but I can tell you what prompted it. We were driving through farm country, through rows and rows of cornfields and orchards and, well, anything people grow in the valley. But then we drove past this modest property, that seemed, by all indicators, to consist of a home and a few rows of vegetables. Clearly, whoever lived there wasn't a commercial farmer. But then it hit me: the resident(s) clearly put some faith in God. I don't want to make judgments based on visual cues, but whether or not this person has an ounce of faith, I just can't help but believe they kind of depend on feeding themselves to a certain extent off the land--especially in this down economy. And there are a couple beautiful things about that. First, you lean on the Provider who plants, waters, and grows all life. And second, when you reap a harvest, there just has to be a certain childlike rejoicing. There just has to. I guess I can relate to that because it's precisely who I have to be if I expect to make it out west. Yeah, God did it all. Yes, my family and church have been very supportive. But if I can't lean on God after such a dramatic upheaval of all my comforts and norms and status quos and expectations in life, I never will. Call me crazy, but I believe He will transform me in ways I don't know to ask Him to. It's exciting. You know, in a joyful tear sense.
"We are bringing you good news, telling you to turn from ... worthless things to the living God, who made heaven and earth and sea and everything in them. In the past, he let all nations go their own way. Yet he has not left himself without testimony: He has shown kindness by giving you rain from heaven and crops in their seasons; he provides you with plenty of food and fills your hearts with joy." (Acts 14:15-17)
I think it's fitting that I return to blogging with some "embarassing" testimonies. Well, just one but a biggie. As someone who once preached that the best way out of a bad situation is to sing God's praises, I'm going to relate one of the weirdest experiences I've had. Anyone who reads this is likely aware that I had an issue with my kidneys in June. You may also recall that I was convinced God had healed me. Well, I truly did believe it. Today it was confirmed. But sometimes confirmations come in odd forms. In my case it meant a cystoscopy that my doctor referred me to in June. After one cancellation--for which I confess I was relieved--it was rebooked and happened today. If you aren't familiar, I'll save you Googling it. It's a procedure in which a camera is inserted through the urethra until it reaches the bladder. The awkward to pain ratio is 1000:1, easy. And I praise God for yielding both a clean bill of health and heck of a lot of composure throughout the process, from the initial referral to the waiting game to the actual procedure. And now, in a sense, I am fully cleared to move to Saskatchewan.
God's faithfulness can't be put into words, so I might as well throw in very matter-of-factly that my student loan came through yesterday. He continues to provide.
But I guess, if this makes any sense, I'm most grateful for a restored sense of appreciation. On the way home today, after getting up real early, driving to Kentville with an hour and a half to spare, waiting for three hours to get into day surgery, and all that jazz, I had determined to catch up on lost sleep on the way home. (I wasn't driving, as you might deduce.) But I couldn't. I looked out at the rolling hills and farmland in the Annapolis Valley, and I realized just how beautiful this province is. Again, I don't have words, but I would like to zero in on one little observation. I've been trying to allow God to heal me and disciple me in such a way as to restore a child's spirit in me. It's hard to explain, especially to analytical people like me, but I had a really emotional moment at one point. It doesn't bother me that I can't explain why, but I can tell you what prompted it. We were driving through farm country, through rows and rows of cornfields and orchards and, well, anything people grow in the valley. But then we drove past this modest property, that seemed, by all indicators, to consist of a home and a few rows of vegetables. Clearly, whoever lived there wasn't a commercial farmer. But then it hit me: the resident(s) clearly put some faith in God. I don't want to make judgments based on visual cues, but whether or not this person has an ounce of faith, I just can't help but believe they kind of depend on feeding themselves to a certain extent off the land--especially in this down economy. And there are a couple beautiful things about that. First, you lean on the Provider who plants, waters, and grows all life. And second, when you reap a harvest, there just has to be a certain childlike rejoicing. There just has to. I guess I can relate to that because it's precisely who I have to be if I expect to make it out west. Yeah, God did it all. Yes, my family and church have been very supportive. But if I can't lean on God after such a dramatic upheaval of all my comforts and norms and status quos and expectations in life, I never will. Call me crazy, but I believe He will transform me in ways I don't know to ask Him to. It's exciting. You know, in a joyful tear sense.
"We are bringing you good news, telling you to turn from ... worthless things to the living God, who made heaven and earth and sea and everything in them. In the past, he let all nations go their own way. Yet he has not left himself without testimony: He has shown kindness by giving you rain from heaven and crops in their seasons; he provides you with plenty of food and fills your hearts with joy." (Acts 14:15-17)
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Divine Appointments
Admittedly, this has been a long, arduous summer. I'm trying my best to take it to heart so I don't neglect some of the many lessons that have been thrust upon me, but it's been a very discouraging, lonely process at times. I've come to realize that what I choose for myself is way less wonderful than what God has planned for me, and I sometimes get lost in daydreaming about and resenting what I don't have, taking my eyes off the Lord and His good intentions.
Lately, I've started a gym routine again, so I can have a reason to get up every morning other than to study and check off one more day on the calendar that separates me from Bible college. After being notified of my acceptance, I briefly looked at this place with fresh eyes, praying for people I would soon have to bid farewell and trying to burn a few scenes onto my retinas. But that romantic naivete soon caved in and I became quite scornful in my attitude. As it was last year, my books and theology were failing me. But this time I didn't surrender to all my old temptations; I just resolved to never spend another summer like this, even if it meant never spending another one here. And that, quite honestly, hasn't changed. I would never return to this place if I could find a job elsewhere--provided there would be other reasons to live outside here. Yeah, I could work here, but that's about it. Everything breaks for the summer. So I really do have nothing to anchor me here, in spite of the fact that God has granted me some great, albeit incidental at times, friendships.
But last night I bumped into someone who spoke quite profoundly into my life, and although it was no coincidence, it was still beyond what I expected when, at 4:00 p.m., God nudged me and said I should stop into Tim Horton's on my way home from a scheduled meeting. Which I did. And God was there. It took three hours to break away from that conversation. It was necessary. And perfectly timed. And I know I serve a God like that. In spite of how I've deprived Him of certain glory by failing to update this more often.
Anyway, the future is wide open, and a new chapter begins for me in a few weeks. And for that I wholeheartedly praise Him.
Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. (Romans 12:2)
Lately, I've started a gym routine again, so I can have a reason to get up every morning other than to study and check off one more day on the calendar that separates me from Bible college. After being notified of my acceptance, I briefly looked at this place with fresh eyes, praying for people I would soon have to bid farewell and trying to burn a few scenes onto my retinas. But that romantic naivete soon caved in and I became quite scornful in my attitude. As it was last year, my books and theology were failing me. But this time I didn't surrender to all my old temptations; I just resolved to never spend another summer like this, even if it meant never spending another one here. And that, quite honestly, hasn't changed. I would never return to this place if I could find a job elsewhere--provided there would be other reasons to live outside here. Yeah, I could work here, but that's about it. Everything breaks for the summer. So I really do have nothing to anchor me here, in spite of the fact that God has granted me some great, albeit incidental at times, friendships.
But last night I bumped into someone who spoke quite profoundly into my life, and although it was no coincidence, it was still beyond what I expected when, at 4:00 p.m., God nudged me and said I should stop into Tim Horton's on my way home from a scheduled meeting. Which I did. And God was there. It took three hours to break away from that conversation. It was necessary. And perfectly timed. And I know I serve a God like that. In spite of how I've deprived Him of certain glory by failing to update this more often.
Anyway, the future is wide open, and a new chapter begins for me in a few weeks. And for that I wholeheartedly praise Him.
Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. (Romans 12:2)
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