kar0ling

Does anyone else find it ironic that those evangelicals who tend to emphasize "heart" (to the exclusion of mind), and have an ambivalence for -- even antipathy toward -- higher learning and critical thought are so awfully obsessed with believing and articulating exactly the right (narrow) things about Jesus and the gospel? The proliferation of workshops and books on "GOSPEL!" and the importance (and achievability) of "understanding" it correctly makes me gag. These same men (yes, I used that word on purpose) are the ones constantly chiding (or dismissing) those involved in social justice work for assuming (and perhaps at times neglecting) Jesus, yet they do so themselves in a terribly arrogant way when they implicitly suggest through their teaching emphases that conviction and conversion are up to us. If we don't have our gospel "right" and know how to articulate it properly, we will fail to make anyone a Christian! Wait, I thought it wa...

For most of the years I've been volunteering with after-school youth programming at an immigrants agency, I've attended the volunteer orientation at the beginning of the year. There are generally moments when I wonder why I'm wasting my time there (clearly, most of the volunteers don't show), but by the end of the evening, I've usually come away with some insights that stick with me. Last year, I was reminded not to be negative about math to the kids, but also to not call any given assignment "easy." These children may or may not be literate in their mother tongue, may or may not have had development-stunting undernutrition in their childhood, etc.; it may shame or frustrate a youth to have work he or she finds "impossible" dismissed as "simple." So, I resolved to urge all my young charges that their assignments are always "do-able!" This year, two facilitators who work with at-risk youth regaled us with stories from their...

Why is the church so fixated on who’s entering into exclusive intimate relationships with who? That was just one of the lines that didn't make the cut in a piece a wrote for the September issue at work. I'll probably get in enough trouble for my provocative opening (which I'm a tad worried readers will misconstrue) that it's just as well I left this inflammatory line out. The reason I liked this line so much that I had to share it elsewhere is that it spreads...let's not call it blame or accusation, let's call it... responsibility across a whole spectrum of people. It calls out those who can't accept single people as real adults until they've started dating; it challenges gossips and finger-waggers who tut-tut premarital sex without offering any constructive advice for making other choices; it points out the absurdity of  males in ministry who think the only way to preserve their purity is to never talk to women; and it questions those for whom pr...

On the thirtieth of April, of all days, I remarked the difference between riding in snow and riding in rain. When it is snowing, the streets are muted, quiet. The blanket of snow muffles the sound of traffic, and everything feels peaceful. When it's raining, however, the streets are louder than ever. The waterspray is audible, echoing off the pavement, wheel-wells, car bodies, and one feels slightly harried. It's cold in winter; that's a drawback, but the snow doesn't soak through all your outer clothing and penetrate through your socks to the skin (no matter what the footwear) the way rain does. However miserable, wet, and cold I was from riding the rain today, I can't say I was happy to greet snow on Queen's day -- when flowers should be blooming. What a way to end the "spring challenge" month of cycling!

There's something about an evening after a day of rain. When the sun comes out, the mood lifts. The air is peaceful, the beautiful dusk colours streak the clouds, and everything seems to glow a little. I was expecting to get wet and cold and miserable on my way home from work today, but I was relieved that it wasn't so bad. Of course, I did weave all over Grosvenor to avoid puddles, and when the sound of an approaching car made that seem unwise, I lifted my feet and squealed like a girl to prevent wet feet from a deep, unavoidable puddle.

Sometimes, I think I had such a good ride. I think, boy, this is wonderful; so smooth and effortless! And then, on the way back, I discover there's a strong wind blowing. It's not that I'm so practiced that it's become easy: it's that I had a tailwind before. In other news, the joggers are all out in full force now that the weather had turned decidedly nicer. Sunday morning, Assiniboine Avenue is always a favourite, but there were an extraordinary number of them today -- some 6 or 7 groups in just 7 blocks -- crawling over the bike path and all over the pitted street.

A shy lane is not a bike lane, no matter how wide it is. The road allowance for debris build-up has a purpose -- the aforementioned. It's not intended for bicycles to ride in. And I'll thank the Winnipeg city planner to stop thinking otherwise. The Maryland and Harrow bike lanes are not self-respecting roadways for cyclists; they're simply painted lines on the shy lane.