Natural Wonders

When you spend time in such a remote place as we do in Canada, you get to see some amazing natural wonders.  I post many pictures of the sunsets because they are often spectacular, but there are many other things that are wondrous and strikingly beautiful.

Phil and I both wanted to see the Northern Lights.  If the evening had clear skies we would go down to the beach and look out at the sky and the water.  Any time either of us got up in the middle of the night we would take a look outside to see if anything was happening.  A couple of times we got up at 1:00 or 2:00 in the morning and went out to see the astronomical show.

My 1:00 A.M. visit to the lake is my favorite moment of my trip to Canada.  There was no moon so it was very dark.  The stars were brilliant and the Milky Way made a dusty streak above my head.  As I took my place on the dock I looked at the sky and saw the Big Dipper in its position not far above the horizon.  The night was so soft and still; there was no wind.  As I looked to the north I could see the perfect reflection of the constellation in the water.  It was such a beautiful thing to behold, and I sat there for quite a while just taking it all in.

Although I wasn't able to take my own picture of the night sky,
I found this picture online that is a pretty good representation of
what I saw.  However, without the 360 degree view you
don't get the full impact.

Seeing the Northern Lights is always a great experience.  We had three or four nights that we were able to see the Lights.  Besides the eerie green glow on the horizon, we observed beams of light and ripples moving across the sky.  The first night we saw the Lights they looked like the giant swirl of a galaxy.  So amazing!

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Recently, Phil and I heard someone describing the different ways that worship can look.  Worship might include standing, raising hands, clapping, shouting, silence, bowing prostrate or kneeling.  It can remind you of what you see and hear at a football game.

This past weekend I experienced worship like this at Catalyst.  Singing, shouting, dancing.  Ovations for people whose words stirred our hearts.  It was such a blessing.

But I'm also glad for the worship I experienced in Canada.  The silence and awe I felt at the beautiful scene my Creator allowed me to experience was even more powerful and yet another blessing.

In one week I was able to experience both of these extremes.  We all need to have more of both of these kinds of experiences in our lives.

Uncommon Fellowship

I spent Thursday and Friday in Atlanta attending the Catalyst Conference which is geared for Christian leaders.  This year’s theme was Uncommon Fellowship, which focused on building unity between churches and diversity in our congregations.  My friend Bea Ward attended with me, and it was great to be there with someone who loved it as much as I did. I came away full to the brim.

Here are a few of the best thoughts I collected from Catalyst.

Andy Stanley

"Jesus believed that our unity is our message to the world."

"People who were nothing like Jesus liked Jesus and Jesus liked them back."

"What if people were skeptical of what we believe but envious of how we treat one another."

"Unity preempts personal preference."

"Jesus gave his life so that we could have uncommon fellowship.  The relationship between humans and God is the most uncommon fellowship there can be."

Mike Foster

"I want to be a grace-flavored snow cone on a hot, judgmental day."

Craig Groeschel

"People are sick and tired of hearing about the love of Jesus.  They need to see the love of Jesus."

"Unity is not the same as uniformity.  There is strength in diversity."

"We need to err on the side of being for things, not against them."

"We need to give everything we can to strengthen others.  We will lead the way with irrational generosity."

Travis Boersma, owner of Dutch Brothers Coffee

"Our motto is 'Love all -- Serve all'."

"We are not in the coffee business.  We are in the relationship business.  Our product is love."

Father Edwin Leahy

Father Leahy got the biggest ovation from the crowd.  He comes across as such a genuine person.  He has spent his whole career at St. Benedict's Preparatory School in Newark, NJ, educating African-American and Latino young men.

"Our credo is 'What hurts my brother hurts me.'"

"Someone asked me what our preparatory school was preparing our young men for.  The obvious answer is college but the reality is that we are really preparing them for heaven."

His advice to the leaders in the room:  "Give up what you want for what we need."

Judah Smith

Preaching on Matthew 9 about Jesus calling Matthew the tax collector:

"Jesus has plans to take me to Matthew's house."

"Jesus intends to include those who have been excluded."

"At the end of the story, Matthew's table had changed."

My thought;  How should my table change?

Brian Houston, pastor of Hillsong in Australia

"We build up our ceilings and they become the floors for the next generation."

"We must push out of the past.  The hope of the church is our sons and daughters."

Brenda Salter-McNeil

I loved this woman!  She described her trip to Ferguson and work in racial justice.

"God is breaking up our holy huddles."

Scott Sauls led a panel discussion that I wish would have gone on a lot longer.  It was very rich and thought-provoking.

"The closer you get to 'the other' the closer you get to Jesus."-- Scott Sauls

"The race issue is really a power issue." -- Jenny Yang

"Christ gave up power, privilege and position." [implying we should too] -- Mark DeYmaz

"Charity is giving someone crumbs from the table.  Justice is giving them a seat at the table." Jenny Yang quoting Bill Moyers

Yang went on to apply this to the church... "a seat in the sanctuary vs a voice at the microphone"

"Violence is the language of the unheard."  Propaganda, hip-hop and spoken-word artist

Rachel Cruze

"Money is a tool that can help create unity."

"Debt kills generosity.  Debt enslaves and slaves don't get to make decisions."

Simon Sineck

Another one of my favorites, he gave a phenomenal presentation.

Speaking on the need to sacrifice:  "Giving money is not a sacrifice because you can always make more.  Giving time and energy is a sacrifice because you can never get it back."

He talked about understanding our work in the church (and life) in terms of playing a game.  Some games are finite and the object is to win.  Other games are infinite; the object is to outlast and stay in the game.  The church should realize that we are like the infinite game.

Madeleine L'Engle

Many years ago when I first started teaching my room was next to a man named Kris Riber. He and I were in the habit of reading aloud daily to our students, one of my favorite times of the day just as it was for several of my colleagues.  We would talk about what we were reading and get ideas from each other about books we liked.  One of my favorite books to read aloud was Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls.  One of his favorites was A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle.

We both decided to give the other's book a try.  Neither of us were satisfied.  Although I like a good fantasy story, science fiction, the genre of A Wrinkle in Time, was not my favorite.  When Kris read Red Fern he told me each chapter was just another hunt, and he was always thinking, "Here we go again."  

That was my introduction to Madeleine L'Engle, and I had not revisited her until I came across a couple of her memoirs in the Christianity section at McKays. I had seen quotes from her works in several other books I had read, and my curiosity was piqued.

There is something so satisfying to me about reading from an author who is so adept at their craft.  L'Engle had a way of saying things that spoke to me in many ways.  Although I seldom struggle with doubts of faith in God, it was certainly enlightening to hear her talk about them and to see the things that brought her back from the darkness she felt was trying to enfold her.

These books were written in 1970's but remain extremely relevant to the struggles we face today.  Here are a few of my favorites quotes from the books:


On creativity:

The creative impulse, like love, can be killed, but it cannot be taught.  What a teacher or librarian or parent can do, in working with children, is to give the flame enough oxygen so that it can burn.  As far as I’m concerned, this providing of oxygen is one of the noblest of all vocations.

On evil in the world (This is so relevant to us today.):

We can surely no longer pretend that our children are growing up in a peaceful, secure, and civilized world.  We’ve come to the point where it’s irresponsible to try to protect them from the irrational world they will have to live in when they grow up.  The children themselves haven’t yet isolated themselves by selfishness and indifference; they do not fall easily into the error of despair; they are considerably braver than most grownups.  Our responsibility to them is not to pretend that if we don’t look, evil will go away, but to give them weapons against.

On marriage vs living together (I could substitute "Phil and I" in this quote.):

I’m quite sure that Hugh and I would never have reached the relationship we have today if we hadn’t made promises.  Perhaps we made them youthful, and blindly, not knowing all that was implied; but the very promises have been a saving grace.

On talking to a friend about the popularity of the occult:
  

I started gong to in high philosophical vein about what a snare and a delusion this is, and could see that he thought I wasn’t very bright.  

Suddenly I said, “Hey, I think I know why astrology has such tremendous appeal.  The year and month and day you are born matters.  The very moment you are born matters.  This gives people a sense of their own value as persons that the church hasn’t been giving them.”

“Now you’re cooking with gas,” he said.

To matter in the scheme of the cosmos: this is better theology than all our sociology.  It is, in fact, all that God has promised to us: that we matter.  That he cares.

On the need for community:

The Establishment [funny to see this very dated term once again] is not, thank God, the Pentagon, or corruption in the White House or governors’ palaces or small-town halls.  It is not church buildings of any denomination.  It is not organized groups, political parties, hierarchies, synods, councils, or whatever.  It is simply the company of people who acknowledge that we cannot live in isolation, or by our own virtue, but need community and mystery, expressed in the small family, and then the larger families of village, church, city, country, globe. 

On the comfort of the status quo and the need for revolution (change):

Because we are human, these communities tend to become rigid.  They stop evolving, revolving, which is essential to their life, as is the revolution of the earth about the sun essential to the life of our planet, our full family and basic establishment.  Hence, we must constantly be in a state of revolution, or we die.  But revolution does not mean that the earth flings away from the sun into structureless chaos.  As I understand the beauty of the earth’s dance around the sun, so also do I understand the constant revolution of the community of the Son.  

But we forget, and our revolutions run down and die, like an old, windup phonograph.

My own forgetfulness, the gap between the real, revolutionary me and the less alive creature who pulls me back, is usually only too apparent.

(Oh, how I identify with this last sentence.)

On going to a museum and coming home to paint:  

A great painting, or symphony, or play, doesn’t diminish us, but enlarges us, and we, too want to make our own cry of affirmation to the power of creation behind the universe.  This surge of creativity has nothing to do with competition, or degree of talent…When I hear a superb pianist, I can’t wait to get to my own piano, and I play about as well now as I did when I was ten.  A great novel, rather than discouraging me, simply makes me want to write.  This response on the part of any artist is the need to make incarnate the new awareness we have been granted through the genius of someone else.

I used the word “arrogant” about those verses.  I take it back.  I don’t think it’s arrogance at all.  It is beauty crying out for more beauty.

On not remembering the name of a teacher who caused her great pain as a little girl (I think this whole section is so powerful and true.):  

When she decided that I was neither bright nor attractive nor worth her attention, she excluded me, and this is the most terrible thing one human being can do to another.  She ended up annihilating herself.

To annihilate.  That is murder.

We kill each other in small ways all the time.

At O.S.U. we discussed dividing grades into sections according to so-called ability.  Every teacher there was against it.  Every teacher there believed that a student in the lowest group is rendered incapable of achieving simply by being placed in that group.  “So I’m in the dumb group.  That’s what they think of me.  There’s no use trying, because they know I can’t do it.”

Murder.

I didn’t try to learn anything for the annihilating teacher for just these reasons.

I worry about this.  I worry about it in myself.  When I am angry or hurt, do I tend to exclude that person who has hurt me?

I said that a photograph could not be an icon. In one strange, austere way there are photographs of two people in my prayer book which are icons for me.  I keep them there for that precise reason.  They are people I would rather forget.  They have brought into my life such bitterness and pain that my instinct is to wipe them out of my memory and my life.

And that is murder.

I had, through some miracle, already managed to understand this, when I came across these words of George MacDonald’s:

It may be infinitely less evil to murder a man than to refuse to forgive him.  The former may be a moment of passion: the latter is the heart’s choice.  It is spiritual murder, the worst, to hate, to brood over the feeling that excludes, that, in our microcosm, kills the image, the idea of the hated.

On truth:

…a great work of the imagination is one of the highest forms of communication of the truth that mankind has reached.  But a great piece of literature does not try to coerce you to believe it or to agree with it.  A great piece of literature simply is.

It is a vehicle of truth, but it is not a blueprint.

On seeking forgiveness:

We haven’t done a very good job of righting the wrongs of our parents or our peers, my generation.  We can’t say to our children, here is a green and peaceful world we have prepared for you and your children: enjoy it.  We can offer them only war and pollution and senility.  And this is the time we decide, in our churches, that we’re so virtuous we don’t need to be forgiven: symbolically, iconically forgiven. 

(She was struggling with changes in the Book of Common Prayer in her church liturgy which made confession before receiving communion optional.)

If the Lord’s table is the prototype of the family table, then, if I think in terms of the family table, I know that I cannot sit down to bread and wine until I’ve said I’m sorry, until reparations have been made, relations restored.  When one of our children had done something particularly unworthy, if it had come out into the open before dinner, if there had been an “I’m sorry,” and there had been acceptance, and love, then would follow the happiest dinner possible, full of laughter and fun.  If there was something still hidden, if one child, or as sometimes happens, one parent, was out of joint with the family and the world, that would destroy the atmosphere of the whole meal.

Only a human being can say I’m sorry. Forgive me. This is part of our particularity.  It is part of what makes us capable of tears, capable of laughter.

Facing the World

My mom has faced some significant struggles in the past few months.  These struggles were one of the things that made it hard for me to be away in Canada this summer.  Thankfully, my sister Penny was home on furlough from Bulgaria and was able to be around for her and my dad.  One of the challenges was having a pacemaker put in.  We found out early in June that she needed it, but it was put off until August, and Penny and I were able to be there with her for this.  She is now doing fine.

The other setback has been more difficult.  Back in May she found out she had some skin cancer in her nose.  The operation in June got all the cancer but took out one of her nostrils and left a significant hole.  She was able to wear a bandaid on her nose to cover it up, and so she was able to go about her life.  Then in August she had the first of two reconstruction surgeries to rebuild her nose.

It has certainly been a trial.  Besides the physical pain involved, there is also the emotional difficulty of being disfigured.  She has to wear quite a large bandage over her nose whenever she goes out, or visits with people.  Her great-grandchildren have been afraid of her, which is really hard to deal with too. She doesn't complain, but her life has been seriously impacted by all this.

But she is a trooper.  She has it in her blood from the example her father set for her.  She and I have thought a lot about him during these trying days.

You see, my grandfather was born with a large birthmark on his face.  Half of his face was a dark purple and his nose and upper lip were somewhat misshapen.

As much as my mom is struggling with how she looks right now, he had to struggle with it his entire life.  I'm sure people stared at him, and others probably found him hard to look at.  But for me, I never thought much about it, and I certainly wasn't put off by it.  Once when I was in high school I took one of my girlfriends over to his house for a visit.  When we left she said, "Why didn't you tell me about his face?  Why didn't you prepare me for this?"  The truth is that it never crossed my mind to prepare her for it.  It was something I just never considered important.

I have been looking back at pictures of him and his family. He has always been a significant figure in our family.  I wish I could visit him now and ask him about how he dealt with his looks and people's reactions to them.  I wish I could understand the role this part of his life played in making him into the man I knew growing up-- a man of great faith, a man of kindness, a man full of grace.

Skin and Bones

This past summer I was able to teach the morning chapels at camp once again.  Since our theme this year was science, I decided to talk about the human body, specifically our skin and bones.  I based these talks on some chapters from a book called Fearfully and Wonderfully Made by Dr. Paul Brand and Philip Yancey.

The most important qualities our bones need to have are being strong and rigid.  Bones that are brittle, bent and weak are of little use.  These bones come together to form our skeleton, and this is what gives framework to our bodies.  Without our skeletons we would be a big blog of tissues.  We would not be able to move about or do much of anything.

On the spiritual side of life, the thing that gives structure to our lives are the commandments of God.  These commands are intended by God to help us live the best life possible here on earth.  They allow us to move and work and do.

But here’s the thing.

We don’t have an exoskeleton, like a bug or a crab or lobster.  When we think about these creatures we know they are not cuddly or warm; they are cold and hard and repelling.  But in our analogy, if the front we present to the world is all about the rules we follow, the sins we avoid and the commands we preach, we are showing the world an exoskeleton that is cold and hard and repelling.

God gave us skeletons that are covered with flesh, flesh that is warm and soft and touchable.  Our skin and our sense of touch are how we communicate love to others.  

And so it is with our faith.  The structure we hold fast to in building our spiritual lives must be covered with the warmth of our flesh and the free-flowing love of God that should radiate from our lives.  This is what will attract others to our Savior.

Jesus set this all straight when he told the story of the Good Samaritan.  He responded to a question by saying that the greatest commandments are to love God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength and to love your neighbor as yourself.  After further questioning, he told the story of the injured man who was passed by on the road by religious people because they were keeping the rules, because they did not want to become unclean according to the law.

The hero of the story is the Samaritan who comes to the injured man’s aid, who touches him, who carries him to safety, and who binds his wounds.  He was not afraid to show love to him, not afraid to touch him, even though the cost to him was significant.

Even now, weeks later, this lesson comes to me often.  I ask myself, “Do my actions display love and warmth or am I being cold and distant?”  I ask this often because I am prone to be cold and distant, and have difficulty overcoming the tendency to identify as a rule-follower, and to judge harshly those who don’t follow the rules I think are important. It is something I must work at daily.

Thankfully, I am a work in progress, and I see my faith being “fleshed out.”

The Best Moment of the Summer

Gavyn

When I arrived at church in Sioux Lookout on Sunday, I ran into several campers.  One of them was Gavyn, who reminded me of my favorite moment from the summer.

Gavyn has been a camper for several years.  His whole family usually spends 3-4 weeks at camp as his mom serves as the camp nurse.  The whole family pitches in to help, and we really enjoy the time we get to spend with them.

This summer  was different.

In early June, Gavyn was experimenting, as Gavyn is prone to do.  He was using a knife to remove power from some caps and then putting the powder in a tube.  He was using the handle of the knife to tamp down the powder when it suddenly ignited and propelled the knife upward, and it pierced Gavyn's eye.  The next several weeks were spent in surgeries and trips to specialists and ended with doctors removing the lens from Gavyn's eye.  When he grows up, they intend to replace the lens, but for now, Gavyn has lost sight in that eye.

It was quite a struggle for the whole family.  Plans were disrupted.  Anxiety about Gavyn's sight was constant.  And they were also upset that they weren't able to come to camp.

But finally, during the last week of camp, everything had settled down enough for them to come.  Gavyn was told to take it really easy, but that is a very difficult thing for him.

During the week of camp, Gavyn came to one of the activities I was leading, "Parachutes with Pam."  I would help the kids make a parachute and then we would attach water balloons to them and see if we could float them safely to the ground.  Gavyn made a parachute and launched his, but as soon as he did, he was off saying, "What will happen if we tie two parachutes together?  What will happen if we make it bigger?"  And on and on.

So we happily experimented.  Later I said to Gavyn, "I just love watching your mind work, Gavyn.  You are so curious and wondering what will happen next.  I think it's so great."

Gavyn said, "Yeah, that's how I lost my eye."

Wow!

While he was working with me, he saw my rocket launcher.  He wanted to know if he could build a rocket and launch it.  I said sure.  I showed him the ones we had built and told him how they worked, but Gavin had his own ideas about how this should go, and he wanted to build one that had a parachute.  I told him that rockets with parachutes are very tricky, and I had not seen anyone be very successful with them, but that did not deter him.  He spent a good part of the day developing a rocket that had a parachute attached.

That evening we launched his rocket.  The parachute did not deploy.  He was so disappointed.

He spent a good part of the next day tinkering with his rocket, refining the design, trying to correct the mistakes.  He is a really hard worker and very persistent.

That evening after chapel, we launched his rocket once again.  His dad had arrived and both his parents were able to be there for the launch.  This time the rocket blasted off and quickly reached the apex of its flight.  And then, as it started its descent, the parachute deployed perfectly.  The rocket floated flawlessly to the ground.

And we celebrated!  The smile on Gavyn's face was priceless.  It was a spectacular moment!

We launched the rocket again to see if we could replicate the flight, but this time, the parachute did not deploy.

But no matter.  The success of the previous launch was enough.  It made Gavyn's heart sing to have had this moment, and I'm so glad I was there to share it with him and his family.

On Labor Day

When God created our world He taught us some things about work.  First of all, there is the fact that God works, and this tells us that work is important and valuable.  Next, we learn that God worked with great enjoyment.  Every time He created something He pronounced it good or very good.  If you're like me, you've felt the deep satisfaction you can get from a task completed and a job well done.  God felt that in His work, and He wants us to feel that way about our work too. 

I read a passage from a book by John Ortberg that opens our eyes to what it would be like if God approached His work the way we often do.  I've shared many times since I read it and thought it would be appropriate to share it on this Labor Day.

"In the beginning, it was nine o'clock, so God had to go to work.  He filled out a requisition to separate light from darkness.  He considered making stars to beautify the night, and planets to fill the skies, but thought it sounded like too much work; and besides, thought God, 'That's not my job.' So he decided to knock off early and call it a day.  And he looked at what he had done and he said, 'It'll have to do.'

"On the second day God separated the waters from the dry land.  And he made all the dry land flat, plain, and functional, so that-- behold-- the whole earth looked like Idaho.  He thought about making mountains and valleys and glaciers and jungles and forests, but he decided it wouldn't be worth the effort.  And God looked at what he had done that day and said, 'It'll have to do.'

"And God made a pigeon to fly in the air, and a carp to swim in the waters, and a cat to creep upon dry ground.  And God thought about making millions of other species of all sizes and shapes and colors, but he couldn't drum up any enthusiasm for any other animals-- in fact, he wasn't too crazy about the cat.  Besides, it was almost time for the Late Show.  So God looked at all that he had done, and God said, 'It'll have to do.'

"And at the end of the week, God was seriously burned out.  So he breathed a big sigh of relief and said, ' Thank Me, it's Friday.'

So people are working at jobs where they find no joy or satisfaction. You hear it all the time in the way they talk about what they do.  But joy and satisfaction doesn't come necessarily from the particular job we have to do, but mainly from the attitude we choose to have as we work.  Even the most menial of jobs can be very rewarding if approached in the right way.

We find the right attitude in Colossians 3:17:  "And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through him to God the Father." Just as God pronounced his work good and very good, we should strive to work in such a way that we, too, can feel that the work we do is good and even very good.

So. may you find joy in your work and satisfaction in a job well done, whatever that may look like in your life.

Happy Labor Day!