Sweeping Up

Last week I was driving in the truck to Midland from Barrie, and I spotted something that filled me with great joy.  I had been waiting to see it for months – since the first snow flake touched down last November, really.  To me there is something life affirming in its vibrant yellow hues, and dust-billowing bristles.  Spotting a common street sweeper in April is my version of other peoples’ first green shoot bursting forth from the dark earth.  It signals the recession of winter and the emergence of spring.  No longer do we need salty, sandy roads, for there will be no snow for six months. 

Although I’m not sure God got that memo yesterday.

Lately, I’ve been feeling like I need that street sweeper to move through my life too.  I’ve got laundry piled up that needs folding, junk that need organizing, and boxes that need storing.  This compulsion to sweep up is so strong that I even organized a Big Spring Clean on May 12^th at the Knox Church building.  9am to noon.  Ahem. Ahem.

After a long cold winter I am feeling the urge to sweep up and move forward with optimism towards spring.  Same goes with my spiritual life.  I’m looking for God to breathe new life into me this spring. How about you?  Want to get out of the winter blahs spiritually? 

I’m hoping that this new BASIC series at Knox, will help with that.  We are talking about God and the Church on Sunday mornings and then going deeper on Tuesday evenings in small groups.  Last night’s group went deep as we discussed the fear of the Lord, and I thought, ‘Yeah, this is my spiritual street sweeper.’

What’s yours?

A

Join us Sunday at 10:30 am and Tuesday nights at 7:15 pm.

For more info go to www.knoxmidland.ca

The Sleep Study

I lay on my back, adjusting the scratchy hospital blankets.  Wires ran up and down my pajamas.  Countless electrodes were plastered to my body at the ends of each wire.  The wires were connected by a nurse to a box that lay under my pillow.

When she was done the nurse passed along some simple instructions: “Try to sleep,” she said, then turned out the light and closed the door. 

Sleep was not forthcoming.

Ironically a sleep lab at the hospital is the hardest place to catch any shuteye.  Maybe it was the sheets.  Maybe it was the wires snaking across my face.  Or maybe it was the fact that every move I made was being recorded on camera. On second thought, it must be all three.

It is weird knowing that someone can watch you while you sleep – exposed – vulnerable.  But what is even creepier is that all those little electrodes can tell the study observers much more than meets the eye.  They can tell how I’m breathing, if my eyes are moving left or right, if they are open or closed, if my toes are pointed, if my legs are moving.  There is absolutely no privacy at a sleep study.

Which got me thinking about how much I value my privacy. 

What if our lives were always on camera?  How would we act?  If there were electrodes hooked up to my brain and people could see what I was thinking, would I be pleased with that situation?  I can tell you right now that the answer is, No!

And yet God sees.  We forget that most of the time, don’t we?  I do.

He sees what I do when nobody is around.  He hears those thoughts that I never speak.  God sees.  God hears.  Do we care?

We should.

Today marks the start of Holy Week.  We begin to count down the last days of Jesus’ life.  We will watch him betrayed, sentenced, beaten, crucified, and risen from the dead.  And the thing is, he did all that so we could be forgiven for our sins – even the ones nobody else but God sees.

www.knoxmidland.ca

The Habitual Journey

I locked my door, climbed into the truck, turned the key and headed out for my first appointment in the morning.  The next thing I knew I was pulling into the church parking lot. 

“How did I get here?” I wondered to myself.  Ten minutes of driving and I couldn’t remember any of it. 

I’ve only lived in Port McNicoll since early February, but already the drive to Midland has become a habitual journey that bears little concentration.  Well, I’m certain it does deserves more concentration that I’m giving it, but when I get into the truck each morning, autopilot kicks in and I get lost in other pressing thoughts.

The worst part was that I wasn’t even going to the church that morning.  So I tossed the truck in reverse, shook my head to clear out the cobwebs, and headed off once again in the right direction – this time paying a little closer consideration to where I was going.

The longer I’ve been a Christian the more I’ve come to realize that our spiritual lives can sometimes be journeyed on autopilot.  We get set in certain directions and accustomed to the same activities and we do them with little intentional concentration.  Worship, prayer, fellowship, service, awareness of God’s activity, these can all be done by wrote habit.  Sure it gets us to a destination, but is that destination where God wants us to be?  And what are we getting out of the process itself? 

So the trick is to keep paying attention along the way.  Listen to God’s leading.  Stay alert.  Maybe God has a side road or a detour in mind for you.  And don’t forget that any time you find yourself in the wrong place you can always toss it in reverse and head back out in the right direction.

A

www.knoxmidland.ca

The Big Sendoff

They sat in neatly orchestrated stacking chairs, smoothing out their new suits and best black dresses.  They passed around boxes of tissue and many arms were around many shoulders.  A soft murmur filled the quaint funeral home chapel.  I approached the pulpit as the room hushed.

The gentleman lying in the casket behind me - a kind looking elderly man wearing his best plaid shirt, green Nova Scotia hat perched beside him – was a man I’d never met before today.  Only a poster board covered in assorted family pictures was my link to his life. I’d only met his grandson today as well, and this only a few minutes before the funeral. 

We exchanged pleasantries and went over the order of service.  Then we closed the casket, pulled open the curtains, and I began.
Today’s society has little use for religion.  In fact some aggressively attack religion.  And yet when we die to whom do we turn?  Even the families of most un-churched, agnostic, or even atheist people call on me for the big day.  Same goes with weddings, sometimes baptisms. 
Why?

I suspect they do so because they don’t know to whom else they can turn.  When we rail against God and the idea of a higher power all our lives, at the end of it we often find ourselves seeking out God and God’s people.  So do our families who are left behind.  Alcoholics know about this.  So do prison inmates, and relief workers in developing nations. 

When we are at our weakest - when we have no power left - that’s when many of us finally reach out for God.[1]

So why not seek that higher power now?  Why wait?  If God is there to help at the end, imagine what he can do right now.  Don’t let a stranger in a black jacket and white collar send you off on that big day.  Make sure that he/she is a friend.

A

Join us this Sunday at 10:30 am as we continue our newest Teaching Series: He Chose the Nails.

www.knoxmidland.ca

 

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[1] Psalm 30

Teenagers

We rolled in to Muskoka Woods Camp shortly after 8pm on Friday night.  Four adult leaders in four salt-covered vehicles, packed to the roof with over-amped teenagers and their gear.  After orientation and unloading we found ourselves seats at the back of the “Hanger” as a Christian rock band began to play at decibels that would send half our Sunday morning crowd running for the exit.  Four-hundred other teenagers shouted out familiar lyrics, “We want to lift your name high, Jesus!”

Most of our crew looked shell-shocked. 

Only a few of them had gone to church before, and of those even less had really seen anything like this.  They looked around like, What the heck is going on?  Where did all these teenage Christians come from?

By Saturday night half our kids would be found standing up front, hands in the air, singing out to God with joy and sincerity.  All of them would be found in prayer at some point. Bonds were formed.  Burdens were lifted.  Answers were found.  And yes, some questions were raised.

Teens are open to God.  Like everyone else they usually sense that there is something more out there.  But, like everyone else, this God thing has to be seen as relevant to their lives.  So we need to communicate God’s love to them in their own language.  Frame the gospel in such a way that they can relate.  Maybe even let them communicate God’s love to one another.  I mean, who else speaks teenager better than a teenager?

 If we do that we just might find the teenagers in our congregations moving from the back row to the front pew, arms lifted high.

A

www.knoxmidland.ca

The Real Deal

It is widely known that I am the best looking pastor in Midland. 

I’m not bragging.  This is just what people tell me.  I’m sure it is true because they have nothing to gain by telling me this, besides a bigger mansion in Heaven, of course. 

That’s how it works.  You suck up to the pastor you get Heavenly swag.  It says so in the bible.  Near the back.  Promise.

While I enjoy the benefits of being so handsome, and I feel that it enhances my ministry, Jesus did not enjoy such genetic favours.  While the picture of Jesus on the wall outside my office (I didn’t put it there) has a picture of a blonde haired blue eyed Jesus who looks eerily like the father from Family Ties, scripture tells a different story.

We don’t really know what he looked like, but the Suffering Servant passage of Isaiah, talking about Jesus, the Messiah to come said this about him, “He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.”[1]

So what did attract people to Jesus?  Certainly hundreds, even thousands, gathered to see what he was all about.  Remember that story about Jesus feeding the 5000?  So ya, he had superstar status.  But why?

My guess it had to do more with who he was then anything else.  His attraction came from within.  He had a peace and a wisdom and a presence that none before had ever seen.[2]  He didn’t have to rely on charisma or good looks.  He was the real deal. 

He still is. 

A

www.knoxmidland.ca

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[1] Isaiah 53:2

[2] Luke 4:32

Sacrifice. Me?

My generation (X) isn’t really big on going
without.  For the most part we don’t know much about it.  Our parents grew up going without, so when they had kids they made darn sure we didn’t.  But there is a problem here – going without is part of a healthy human experience.  We learn a great deal when we go through lean times.  For one thing we learn what is really important.

For a long time now Lent has been a time where followers of Jesus have actually, now get this, chosen to go without something.  Often it is meat, or snacks, or coffee, or internet.  Whatever is given up it is done to remind that person what Jesus gave up for them. 

And Jesus gave up a whole lot.

He gave up his life.

This year I’ve chosen to give up fast-food.  That may not sound like much to many of you, and even I will admit that it isn’t a heroic sacrifice, but every time my stomach rumbles and I crave an Angry Whopper with Poutine on the side, well, I will remember the much, much, much, larger sacrifice God made for me.  After all, Lent isn’t really about what I’m giving up – it is about remembering, and appreciating, what Jesus gave up for me.[1]

A

www.knoxmidland.ca

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[1] Hebrews 10:14  “By one sacrifice he has made perfect forever those who are being made holy.”

Tangible Reality

Today is the first day of Lent. Around the world today people are lining up before their priest or pastor to have their foreheads smeared with ashes.  They will get up early, take time off work, skip their morning round of golf, or leave after their shift ends to participate in this centuries old ritual.  Followers of Jesus who frequent Roman Catholic, Lutheran, Presbyterian, and other places of worship will shuffle awkwardly down the line until they are greeted with the refrain, “Turn away from sin and turn to the Gospel.”[1] They will bow their heads.  Their foreheads will be traced with ash in the shape of a cross.  Then they will leave solemnly for breakfast, work, golf, or the sofa, marked by an ancient symbol of death and hope. 

They are encouraged to leave the symbol there until it wears off of its own accord.

 Ash has been a symbol of mourning since long before the time of Jesus.  A grieved prophet Jeremiah once declared, “O my people, put on sackcloth and roll in ashes.”[2]  Sometime around the eleventh century this ritual was adopted by Jesus’ followers, often with burned palm branches from the previous year’s Palm Sunday branches.[3]  For them it was a symbol of mourning their personal sin and the death of Christ that resulted from that sin. 

Does this millennium-old practice fit in today’s digital age?

In this smartphone world too fast for email and too tech-dependent for print media, how does a thousand-year-old ritual find a place of any relevance?  Yet it does.  Many people today, even those with enflamed texting thumbs, will unplug their iPods for twenty minutes today and do something that seems particularly countercultural.  It defies most pop trends and it doesn’t involve a single tweet, poke, or text.  It is the simple, tactile, and spiritually profound act of mourning achieved through a simple physical experience.

 Perhaps these are two things we need to do more of in the digital age: grieve our brokenness, and experience life tangibly, not just virtually.  Some of us - namely those with dark smudges on their foreheads today - have already begun to figure this out.  

A

www.knoxmidland.ca

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[1] Mark 1:15

[2] Jeremiah 6:26  

[3] http://www.americancatholic.org/newsletters/cu/ac0204.asp