Wednesday, August 17, 2016

Haiku: The moon

Elusive soft orb
Mystically compelling

One always wants to take a picture of its unasssuming beauty, but though captivating, it won't be taken captive. 

Sunday, April 10, 2016

Not dead yet!

Sorry, folks.
"As long as there is snow in the forecast, I'm not switching bikes."
That was my mantra, but after such a balmy March, it was wearing thin as April moved along. Surely, snow on April 10 will just be an inconsequential fall of flakes that leaves no trace. That's what some fo the numerous snow days meant earlier in the week. So I took out the Skyline yesterday.
Well, whaddaya know? The forecast snow really did start to pile up. So it was back to the fatgirl tonight.

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

The other foot

“I told God I never wanted to do [Thing A],” practitioner of [Thing A] quipped wryly. 

Why is this person so happy with their ministry? I thought to myself. Dear God, please don’t make me do things I hate.

I recall this scenario playing out a few times in my childhood, particularly during my time in YWAM.
It occurred to me recently that I am currently actively participating in or philosophically committed to a number of things that were anathema to me as a child. Happily. By choice. 

I said I hardly wanted to move off the farm, that living in my rural town would be the closest I’d get to urban living. And I figured the only thing I learned during a two-week urban ministry experience was that I was not in any way meant for that kind of activity.

Now I live downtown by choice, look with disgust and scorn on suburbs, and love to vacation in densely populated cities. Formerly the country bumpkin, afraid to go anywhere, I’m now comfortable in areas of town others fear; I enjoy the shabby downtown mall and movie theatre that aren’t cool enough for the suburbanites and have instead become the village square for the city’s newcomers – both those from from the Global South and the Canadian North. It is a value to me that as a function of where I live and where I go, I encounter people who aren’t like me, people whose situation challenges me.

I said I didn’t know what kind of career I wanted as long as it wasn’t becoming a teacher. And I certainly didn’t like kids. 

Now I am certified to teach ESL and I regularly volunteer with  young teens at a homework club and in a school classroom. I eagerly take my nieces and nephews on special outings, and persistently steal other people’s babies at church. 

Even in more banal ways, my old self has been turned on its head. I distinctly recall the terror of crossing the main street in my sleepy town, particularly the one time when there was actually a car to deal with and no crossing guards on duty. (Of course, my friend’s dad wouldn’t run me over, but it was still scary!) Now, it’s only at unfamiliar intersections or in new cities that I don’t boldly jaywalk across city streets – and even then sometimes. 

Any of my high school classmates would laugh themselves silly if you called me athletic, yet my adult pastimes involve physical activity. Somehow, I'm looked upon as an alpha cyclist (though my ridiculous fall yesterday hearkens back to my klutzy childhood). "I don’t dance!" I maintained against all cajoling onto the dance floor. The qualification I levied on that statement remains – no meaningless spontaneous gyration – but dancing has become my absolute favourite activity. 

So I am encouraged. God is trustworthy. God is not capricious and vindictive, insisting we learn to like what he wants, but gentle and patient albeit perhaps a tad mischievous, leading us on journeys of learning, confounding expectations in the process. 

I wonder what reversal is next.

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

His light for our darkness

Christmas Day has passed, but we are still in the season of Christmas, made famous, though rarely acknowledged or understood, by the "12 days of Christmas" song, so I post my seasonal editorial here, slightly revised from its first, published version.

In the scope of history, there was nothing new about the shift in government this past October. Routinely, Canadians tire of Conservative austerity, welcoming Liberal prodigality with a wave of votes. A few terms later, the tide reverses; Canadians clamour for Conservative restraint after Liberal excess. The cycle repeats.
Yet, this election upset felt different to many. People spoke of the landside change less in terms of policy and more in terms of emotion: hope.
In some ways, the rhetoric of fear that permeated the pre-election landscape is found in our conference and churches as well. How did this happen to followers of the author of hope?
The things we fear
As millions of displaced people seek shelter, we in safer corners of the world are afraid. We fear the refugees who long to enter our borders. Their needs could overtax our social system. Their differences will test Canadian values of freedom and non-discrimination.
We’re afraid of people from other religions. Recognizing the potential for violence in our own holy book, we fear the seeds of violence Islam might sow. A neighbour might be a terrorist. Worse, devout new blocs of religious could edge out our corner on the spiritual marketplace.
We’re afraid of the sins of the church. We don’t want to talk about the harm Canada perpetuated on indigenous peoples. As Mennonites, we hide behind our historic isolationism, distancing ourselves from the residential school mistakes of both mainline denominations and the government.
The fear burrows into our own church. There was fear at our study conference. We’re afraid that people who don’t fit our categories of normal will disrupt our churches. We’re afraid the widening culture of “anything goes” will drown out the Bible’s call to a narrow path, and that dissonant personal experiences will shake our convictions from their mooring in Scripture.
We’re afraid our churches will shrink or that our denomination will fracture apart. We worry the money will simply run out.
But, whose church is it? Ours or God’s?
Turn to the light
We’re celebrating Advent and looking toward Christmas now. Just as the twinkling LEDs of our decorations usher cheer into the lengthening night in our northern home, so the Christ-light of hope, peace, joy and love pierces even the darkest social or theological problem.
The temptation to despair is natural. Across humankind, our default is set to fear. That nearly every book of the Bible contains some encouragement not to be afraid suggests the hearers were routinely leaning in that direction.
Rather than staring into the abyss of our problems, the Bible urges us to turn our gaze to the light, to the One who commands his servants from Genesis to Revelation: Don’t be afraid, because…
I am your protector (Genesis 15:1, Judges 6:23, Job 5:21, Ezekiel 3:9).
I have heard your crying (Genesis 21:17, Daniel 10:12).
I am with you (Genesis 26:24, Joshua 1:9).
I will deliver you (Exodus 14:13, Numbers 21:34, 2 Chronicles 20:17).
I will grant you peace (Leviticus 26:6, Psalm 29:11, Proverbs 3:24, John 14:27, Romans 5:1).
I will fight for you (Deuteronomy 3:22).
I will provide (1 Kings 17:13).
I am your salvation (Isaiah 35:4).
I will cause you to prosper (Jeremiah 17:8).
I will make you a blessing (Zechariah 8:13).
I will give you the words to say (Mark 13:11).
I care about you (Matthew 10:31, 1 Peter 5:7).
I have a purpose for you (Luke 5:10).
I will rescue you (Acts 27:24).
I am the beginning and the end (Revelation 1:17).
Sometimes there is miraculous intervention, but just as often, God simply assures that he is with us and he cares. In that knowledge, we can set our hearts and minds at ease whether turmoil engulfs or troubles dissipate.
Circumstance need not cause us to fear; the deeper truth is that the Creator’s reach extends into every darkness, Jesus walks with us through the deepest valleys and the Spirit’s guiding light cannot be snuffed out.
As we string our Christmas lights, let’s call the church to its own revolution of hope, based not a new government (that will inevitably introduce bad policies), nor on well-meaning leaders (who will eventually disappoint), but on the Prince of Peace whose coming into the world we celebrate at this time.
May we heed the words of the angel that first Christmas: “Do not be afraid…” (Luke 2:10).