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