Consider the Bulldozer

 

Recently my brother and I were commiserating regarding present-day activities.  Both of us have lists of things to accomplish each day - so many that the occasional game of telephone tag will stretch up to three days!  Although we lament the busy-ness that keeps us from those quality conversations, we also acknowledge the value of meaningful healthy involvements.  In and among all these busy things we recognize a challenge facing both of us.  We both have been avid readers all our lives.  Reading always has and continues to inform us (A pattern obviously begun long before the present digital era).  Now each of us on the upper-side of our threescore and ten years, we were talking about those books.  We walk past our bookshelves, his built all over the living quarters and even some storage corners of his humble shack in Colorado Springs, and mine lining several walls of my daughter's bedroom!  Neither of our so-called offices would have room for these libraries. 

While talking about the worth and sentimental contribution to our great education (?) by these books, we also note that in the accumulation there is the occasional duplicate.  Only yesterday I happened upon two books of same title but with vastly different bindings - and also nestled on different shelves due to my simplistic cataloguing system!  I also note stretches of shelf space containing books on what now looks like a single theme - perhaps a stretch that could be considerably shortened.  Peter made a recent decision that whenever a new book comes along, he will dispose of one from somewhere in his collection.  At the moment he has 30 of such designation. Very impressive, but still contributing to the same dilemma.

Our book dilemma can be well compared with circumstance of many of my friends.  I tell him of these friends and colleagues also of similar or slightly older age than I, downsizing - systematically donating books to this book fair or thrift store, only to discover they are not necessarily valued, of similar ilk as other junk items in my garage.  Yikes, that moves us to the recycle theme.  Remove hard covers so the paper can be efficiently and conveniently (profitably?) recycled.  Oh but the humiliation of tearing covers off these valuable assets.  Both of us have spent the better part of our lifetimes self righteously quoting Bible passages like Luke 12:20 where God says to the rich man at the end of his days,  ‘You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?’  Both of us recognize our attachment to these earthly treasures.  Our books could qualify us for that judgment also.  

There is more to this conversation.  No we don't even hardly think about that end-of-life sermon theme we may have heard a time or two; what direction your soul, up or down, heaven or hell?  Nope, on to next theme with this good brother.  He has already consulted with a young friend of his who specializes in things like this, living wills we call them.  On that theme he says those words which to date I have not even wanted to think. When he thinks living will he thinks in terms of instruction to the bulldozer driver!  Very casually he blows me away with this another of his characteristic far-reaching thoughts.  He assumes a goodly portion of his accumulated material will get "pushed under".  Now there's a thought I have not yet pondered.  Although I have spent years of my professional life attempting to help people deal with both life and death realities, along with lots of questions and challenges often thinking survival, but never the bulldozer reality.

I must think about this a bit.  Pushed under? Demolished?  Now my mind turns directly to another brother.  This one of the miracle tongue, the one whom I blogged about this last spring ("Miracles", May 21), radical tongue cancer surgery followed by skin graft which at first seemed to be 'miraculously' successful but then graft had to be abandoned, removed and his life now happily resuming with half a tongue.  His life, characteristic story-telling and business acumen continues.  Often there are ironic twists to things.  His business, which includes tree cutting and stump grinding, and an interesting side-line, building demolition.  Yes, Philip of the new-lease-on-life persona has successfully contracted to demo the interior of a large hospital closed down, even as he has done several previous times.  Along with his tree cutting he is now becoming a demolitions expert (Remember I said business acumen).  Here there will be bulldozing along with a large-scale materials recovery, some of it yielding considerable profit for the one taking the time to remove and resell.

Interesting.  Just sitting on the sidelines here and by contact/conversations with two of my brothers, I have now repurposed 😜 the meaning and image of bulldozers - and added another bit of meaning to my days.  From book reducing to downsizing to recycling I now deem the bulldozer a spot in the circle of life.  Some of my life journey will appropriately, mercifully, get bulldozed under.  Some will be a part of a continuing legacy, contributing to the ongoing life of those who follow.  The Bible makes fine reference to this also, Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. (John 12:24).   As a Christian I am quite content to sweat not about it.  Actually there is even a hymn about that, "My Life Flows On" in endless song, number 580 in my blue hymnal.  Fancy what you can create in retirement, just thinking of many things!

Glue Sniffing

 Why is my pain unending
    and my wound grievous and incurable?
You are to me like a deceptive brook,
    like a spring that fails. Jeremiah 15:18

The title of this particular post is a bit startling, and perhaps overstated - at least coming from an old preacher.  I have never sniffed glue and probably should not even pretend to know anything about a base topic like that.  I present it, however, because I must.  This topic came up - disturbingly clear - in the morning devotional which my wife and I read several days ago.  Both of us were a bit taken aback to read the following:   

When walking downtown in Honduras's capital city, I used to see them everywhere - stick thin children clutching plastic baggies smeared with a thick brownish paste. They were addicted to huffing industrial strength glue, which calms hunger pangs for a few hours, even as it eats away at one's brain. After a few years of addiction to glue-sniffing, children lose cognitive function and motor control and begin to stagger as they walk and squint when they speak, unable to shake themselves out of a perpetual fogginess.  Katerina Parsons (Rejoice! Vol 55, No.4), p.96.

This was unnerving, just slightly beyond our familiar way of talking about many things!  My mind races to news reports occasionally heard of first nations communities facing an epidemic of suicide attempts by children and young people!  Apparently glue sniffing is a contributor in those places also.  I shudder at the damage.  I shudder at the lack of parenting or accountability or self-respect that would allow this kind of a thing to happen. There is a force at work which causes me to consider the demonic.

Disturbing thoughts straight from the holy corner of our living room.  Our prayer ritual includes a candle and Bible and devotional reading material.  We believe we are enriched by thoughtful conversation and also sharing of concerns about children and grandchildren, family and friends etc. etc. and prayer time.  Although we are both Mennonite we grew up in very different homes - she, where commitment to Jesus was a considered necessity to avoid the fires of hell, me, in an Old Colony home with memorized prayers and ... a lot of farm chores and softball  and hockey games!  Both of us are very conversant by now about different accesses to faith, not only as learned in our families of origin, but as presented in the Bible.  Two examples, the apostle Paul was literally thrown off his horse at his conversion (Acts 9:4), while another apostle, Timothy, found his faith at his mother's knee (2 Tim 1:5).

Seems to me our glue sniffing story faces us with a third ingredient; how about faith for one with damaged brain or oppression or some form of birth anomaly?  In my pastoring years I encountered a number of situations that in retrospect still give me pause.  Fetal alcohol syndrome or shaken baby or, most recently, variations on the autism spectrum, all present extra life issues.  These cannot quite be satisfactorily addressed in a neurotypical fashion.

This third ingredient I am thinking of may be a bit of surprise to those of us who like to think cognitively, neurotypicals of the Type A personalities who view challenges and problems as requiring quick solutions.  Seems to me on many occasions we short change ourselves by looking only for answers that make sense to our way of thinking.  There is, however, a further vantage, a larger perspective also referenced in the Bible, nothing new for Jesus.  

Jesus has already 'faced this done that'.  Endlessly there were occasions of teaching, especially about traditions and lots of Q and A.  To this day it seems we have already spent an eternity of church history discussing (debating) about correct interpretations and of course theological implications of Jesus' life and teachings, then turned into doctrines and resultant church and denominational understandings.  And yet, Jesus was on site well before all of us!  Reminder: It is the time after Jesus (A.D.) that has included the 20 plus centuries of councils, of edicts, of wars and even crusades to clarify which is the correct understanding and 'disciplining' those who disagreed!  A fascinating read on this  The Story of Christianity by David Bentley Hart (New York: Quercus, 2015).

Main point here: Right alongside this anxious interpretive hermeneutic stuff, right alongside people of the Type A (perhaps like you and me) trying to make sense of who he was, Jesus was healing the sick and confronting evil spirits.  Jesus was the incarnate Presence beyond the understanding of anybody around him.  Mark chapters 4 & 5 illustrates this well.  Here Jesus moves from parable teaching, to stilling a storm tossed sea, to healing a demon possessed man, to restoring a synagogue leader's daughter to life, to unconsciously healing a woman of her life sapping hemorrhages. Jesus is so much more than your answer man.  Jesus is God among us!

Implications for glue sniffing kids, for alcoholism that passes generation to generation, for children born with AIDS, for children damaged because of physical sexual or verbal abuse, for PTSD because they have seen parents killed or raped in genocidal countries?  Implications?  I cannot even begin to imagine the hell that awaits little ones born into circumstance like this.  Implications? Even as I say he is more than a mere answer man, I see also the very answer we are looking for - more than we know how to ask or think (Eph 3:20).  Jesus wastes no time analyzing the source of the Gerasene demoniac's crazy behavior.  He bothers not with why the gale winds hit them mid-lake, nor why the young girl died.  Instead Jesus addresses the immediate issue at hand and does what needs doing. In one of the later epistles we have instructions very consistent with this demonstrated approach.  In James 5 we read, ¹⁴ Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord.  Jesus does that which needs doing with the very power availed to him.  ¹⁵ And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well.

I am not inclined to simplistic answers.  But also I am not inclined to denying new thoughts, new learnings coming from old scriptures in new circumstances.  Confession, forgiveness, relationship are at center of present day life whether in sickness or in health, whether that faith community is made up of intellectuals, of feely groupies, of alcoholics or addicts, of  "red, yellow, black, or white" as per the children's song. The gospel of Jesus Christ is available for all. This makes up full-scale pastoral care agenda in faith communities.  Churches need to extend their prayer service (calling elders of the church as per :14 above) perhaps even to position themselves right beside safe drug houses, injection sites, etc.  People at those sites may not be thinking clearly but may readily accept someone who is available to pray over them!  As a church community it is our privilege (and responsibility) not necessarily to fix, but to come alongside in prayer with and for one another.  That would be at least as good as the tax dollars spent on some considerably lame social services. That is the way to nurture a life giving faith in Jesus, and it is the way of a healthy church.

These days, especially from among and within our societal sins and addictions, our faith will die if the wonder working power of God is not invited.  Our modern inclination to analyze and then pray needs to be replaced with pray and then analyze.

One final thought.  Families praying together might also be a good preventative to glue sniffing.

Busted

My new normal has been interrupted.  Yesterday evening, with supper consumed and dishes duly placed in dishwasher I eagerly head downstairs to my man-cave in pursuit of next item on the agenda, Stanley Cup Playoffs!  Not quite sure whether the 'important' game (Vancouver vs Vegas) was first or second on the evening's TV schedule, I settle down on my television chair and grab a quick look at the App (NHL App on my cellphone that is) very handy for quick fact checks.  There they are looking almost normal, but also very strange; block letters PPD before my face. What?  Could this mean postponed?  POSTPONED.  

But this is what I had planned for tonight.  All day as I took care of those several agenda items on my physical distancing coronavirus workaholic retiree agenda, I anticipated this reward.  Playoff hockey would be waiting for me.  Already I was pleased with my great creativity and hospitality to things as they had transpired in the last while. Christian virtue even; I had accepted that my Edmonton Oilers are gone, thanks to Chicago's excellent teamwork!  My next favorite Calgary Flames, wiped away by Dallas!  Montreal and Toronto gone! Vancouver; the one Canadian team not yet wiped out. Surely, surely, maybe?  Maybe they will beat those upstarts from that millionaires billionaire team from that American sin city, Las Vegas.  Surely. Maybe?
 

I remember the news from the evening before.  The NBA has literally come to a halt, beginning with Milwaukee Bucks walkout of playoffs game against Orlando Magic.  The NBA, which would be non-existent without black basketball players are making a statement about the most recent racist police shooting of an unarmed black man Jacob Blake in front of his children.  A multi-billion dollar sports industry is saying to the rest of the sports addicts all over the U.S. that enough is enough.  And the NHL, the professional league with the least number of black players but with a huge number of white sports addicts like me, has fallen in line.  White sports fans like me have been inconvenienced two nights of entertainment in front of our televisions!
 

Already I hear further news and further commentary.  Already much debate about the difference between making individual statements and whole teams and their fan base standing together.  The only way to make a difference is to stand with one another.  This will be a pricey decision for the major leagues.  How else can we give attention to society's biggest sin, racial inequality?  Check out Jim Wallis, America's Original Sin (Baker, 2015).
 

So my habits are busted.  I look forward to the games resuming on Saturday.  Maybe a little extra conversation with my wife and daughters was needed anyway.  Who knows, we may yet learn a few lessons within this pandemic season.
 

This, however, is only me and my household.  The big question, the BIGGER QUESTION is, what about all those basketball players and fans down there?  And what about the wife and children of Jacob Blake?

Journalists and their Jobs

Conversations are changing these days.  The great adventure of Corona-virus is losing its luster.  Even my earlier blogposts about social distancing and different ways of participating, including church, neighbours, etc. no longer of particular interest.  Seems to me by now there is an evolved openness to moderate critique, not only from the rabid ones who believed everything Donald Trump tweeted, but thoughtful confession of weariness and at least some openness to wariness about the information we are getting.  Along with new confessions of confusion, there is still an inclination to blame.  I recently heard group conversation squarely laying the blame at foot of the media.  They are to blame, and social media has some hilarious quips on reports and contradictions, etc. etc.  Yes conversations are changing. 

I wrote an article just over a year ago, not about pandemics obviously, but chafing slightly at some selective reporting by church media.  I share that article recognizing the important and sometimes thankless work of journalists, writers, editors, online media, publishers, etc. My hope is that these friends may give some extra thought to how they do their jobs.  It is a profession which demands much skill, creativity, courage, and accountability.  The pandemic is creating a hungry and somewhat desperate populace.  My church denomination's Canadian Mennonite has received considerable critique citing too much attention to acceptability and legality of presentation rather than the adventure of the edge.  In other words, can journalists of faith make room for a prophetic word in the community's communiques?  These are questions that hover even while some of us critique.  Now the article.

June 7, 2019                            JOURNALISTS AND THEIR JOBS

My sister writes with enthusiasm and also a hint of weariness.  She and her husband have been run off their feet with media attention to their successful new initiative at their dairy-farm – our home place – near Saskatoon, SK.  The concept of cold farm-fresh milk on tap is gaining traction.  Health conscious and trendy neighbors, acreage dwellers, and city folk are coming out in droves to pay the upscale asking price, and while they’re at it they pick up some sausages, perogies, or homemade jams at their Farmyard Market store.

The Western Producer, two dairy magazines, a local Gazette, CTV, CBC, and Global News, all clamor for an interview and some good pictures of their brightly painted and well maintained farmyard.  Oh yes, we are proud!  And, also I go into thinking mode – apparently a characteristic of mine (My dad said I had a tendency to ‘think a little more’ about things -  Nehschea in our low German dialect).  I am intrigued by the interest of local commercial professional media; and also the dis-interest of our church media. 

A few days after appearance on CTV and CBC News I received an email query from the publisher of The Canadian Mennonite, our denominational newspaper, asking which church my sister and brother-in-law attended.  “They don’t attend church”, I replied cheerfully. “They believe in God and they respect, even celebrate, the Mennonite heritage of our parents, but they live a secular life”.  The reply was telling and disappointing.  It was like end of conversation, “We won’t be providing coverage, but my husband and I will stop by next time we come to Saskatchewan to visit my relatives” (who also live in this neighborhood. Osler in fact).  I felt dismissed!  This person is a very fine individual with a cheery demeanor and yet almost instantaneously seemed to lose interest.

Why no questions about this Mennonite farmyard which grew and weaned 12 children.  I had no opportunity to tell her about the rough and tumble formative years on this place which was kind of a community center every winter evening after the cows were milked.  The bunkhouse beside our skating rink was the exact location where now clean freezers and display cases make up the store. This farmyard yielded soccer players, hockey and softball players for all manner of teams in the Rosthern Valley and nearby Saskatoon.  Where was the interest in the evolution of this place?  Where is the personal historical interest? I know the total readership of this Mennonite periodical would have lapped up a feature article about this locale. They don’t attend church; end of story. Really?

Kind of like another incident I can think of.  At present I am participating in “Walk for Common Ground”, www.treatytalk.com/#walkforcommonground.  It is a ground breaking collaboration between the Health Sciences Association of Alberta, the Saddle Lake Cree Nation of St. Paul, AB, and Mennonite Church Canada.  It is an education walk to facilitate relationship among the walkers, an invitation for anybody to ask questions along the way, and/or to join in for a day or two of physical exercise, education, and conversation.  We follow an Eagle Staff, carry several flags, and many small signs, “We are All Treaty People”.  Each day along this grueling 300 km walk from Edmonton to Calgary, we are requested to post on social media, and daily there are ‘interviews’ by church and denominational communications employees.  In answer to their stock trade question “Why I walk” they post answers like, exercise my faith, learn more about treaties, etc.  I recently offered my answer (and this after I had submitted a short bio, and also a page long piece on topic “Why I walk”).  Feeling just a bit irritated at the repetitiousness of it all, I submitted a selfie with this quip, “I walk because it is healthier for my soul than sitting at church meetings”.  This is a genuine response from this retired preacher who has probably attended about a million meetings in his lifetime.  

The reply to my quip betrayed either her impatience or that she didn’t get it at all. “You have something to say about treaties?”  Enter my Rick Bell rant (Calgary’s version of Rick Mercer).  It might have gone like this, “Dear communicationista, I can’t think of another way to explain this walk, but I invite you to join in for a day or two.  Come and walk beside me. I am inspired by motivated educated people (most of whom have been there done that). As I walk quietly, I’m thinking, reflecting on the things I learned in college and seminary, kind of enjoying the sermons I used to preach because I always speak to people rather than audiences.  I am enjoying the presence of unionists who are more committed to this cause than most church people I know, and indigenous folk more educated than most.  I am not drinking beers in the hot sun, which is more than I could say for myself if I was at home getting ready for the next meeting. This is life, sister. Come and join in!”

Okay I can’t quite say that – a bit too cynical I suppose.  But there is a need around us these days to speak plainly.  And I would really like it if communications people would help us to do that.  Do not bore us with cookie cutter questions, because the answers (and your articles) will become boring. The church will not survive long if it continues in clichés.  We need intrigue, queries, humor, irony.  Here is an occasion that calls for it. 

I have a similar point of view about sermons, speeches, communiques of any kind.  I enjoy it when people are not just doing their jobs.  Good journalism must push the edges in interesting manner.  Jobs are for making a wage; stories are about life!  I like it when journalists - and preachers too -  tell us about life in full Spirit and full intrigue.  I am come that you may have life; and have it to the full (John 10:10).

So, that was my article written then about that concern. In conclusion I must mention, in a recent issue of that selfsame publication, I enthused about one of the journalists, senior writer no less, who profoundly 'nailed' the Easter message needed by us weary Covid-19ers (CM, March 16, 2020, p.4).  There are journalists who take interest in their subjects, and I applaud and appreciate them.  I do get a little testy when they are merely doing a job.

Back to the Future

Many years ago while a seminary student I wrote an essay about a movement of Mennonites into northern B.C. and Alberta.  These are my people, or at least of my lineage.  My parents, although members of the Old Colony,  no longer adhered to the prescribed belief of remote settlement places, thereby to avoid modernization, influence of the cities, English schools, etc.  My father was skeptical of the religious reasons for moving north, often referencing his saying, "The devil will probably show up there too".  Dad's assessment was that this was yet another occasion of opportunism, seeking good farmland, which Mennonites are capable of  'taming,' but was that enough reason to move?  Some of my big muscled hard working cousins were in that pioneer crowd.  My parents and some other cousins were among the hold outs.  I grew up on a dairy farm, next door to the city of Saskatoon.

I am a product of this lineage, and yet adventured into the more 'worldly', educated strain of Mennonites, the General Conference.  My seminary experience for me therefore was a time for some disciplined reflection of background - my roots - alongside many of other traditions.  Interestingly this mix of students and even several professors hailed from the Amish, America's extreme horse and buggy conservatives. This grad school was a good place to acquire some education, or perhaps become defiled, as some of my relatives might have suggested.

Now to this essay.  It was entitled "A Twentieth Century Frontier: Mennonites in Northern Alberta and British Columbia."  Big title, big sound, and I forged into research which satisfied my intrigue and hoped it would also be informative for my fellow students, and perhaps even impress my professor!  Not exactly!  In his kindly way he made some helpful comments, challenging my choice of title a bit (frontier?), offered some suggestions of some other sources I might have looked at and gave me an A-. "Good Work".   Ahh the thankless work of being a student, digging, reading, discovering and then writing it down with aspirations of perhaps publishing! 😉 

And yet, yet I find myself grateful for that learning opportunity so many years ago; not only because "education is good for you" but also because I discovered my people are but part of other people and other people also have reasons for populating a wilderness north - like drought in Saskatchewan and in the U.S. midwestern states, and strange intermixing of evangelical and traditionalism along with things like family squabbles and/or cohesiveness.  Many things among all the people.  I find this to be totally true as I now volunteer among immigrants and refugees right here in Calgary.

What brought this essay to mind is a recent development in my present day church people.  They are the Mennonite Church Alberta - today's version of the General Conference Mennonites.  And it is 45 years later!  In these days of Coronavirus  (Yes fast forwarding. Note the title above contains that f-word Future) our area church leaders have seen fit to introduce some liturgy.  In addition to our denomination's Canada wide weekly virtual worship services, in Alberta we are invited to 4 midweek Morning and Evening Zoom Prayer Time led by two of our pastors.  Our resource is Take Our Moments, an Anabaptist modification of book of Common Prayer utilizing the Revised Common Lectionary.  As one who had been a proponent of the Lectionary during my pastoral tenure, I am pleased.  This is creative and wholesome; an invitation to an orderly unadorned reading of scriptures and prayers with one another, especially in these days of social distancing and worldwide anxiety.  We have here an atmosphere of cooperation for church congregants or anybody else, knowing that themes are not merely chosen by certain people often with vested interests, or even worse, pastors' hobby horses.

So, although this was about Mennonites seeking to escape from worldliness, even my 1975 essay already had a hint of today!  Yes, also reference to  Mennonites becoming ex-Mennonites, an activity already an occupational hazard at that time!  Frank H. Epp tells of an ex-Mennonite Catholic car dealer in Peace River ("The True North," Mennonite Reporter, Oct.28, 1974). The liturgical option is not usually touted among Mennonite leavers. I would love to have a conversation with that certain Mr. Friesen as to his reason for joining the Catholics.  He wasn't the only one.  I too have family members within the Catholic ranks.  Is it that the most traditional, the ones seeking austere predictable worship patterns (like vorsaenger, lehrdienst, sermons read from old books, etc) are actually quite akin to the rhythm and predictability of liturgy?  Catholic priests are not known for their preaching; neither are Mennonite prediger.  Over the years this liturgical option may also have been a contributor to exodus even alongside the many who have left for free church evangelicalism. 

For me this is reason for encouragement, especially from my theological vantage (see my Profile).  I believe God is larger than the Church.  As a Mennonite people we understand ourselves to be neither Catholic nor Protestant (Walter Klaassen, Anabaptism: Neither Catholic nor Protestant, originally published 1973 and latest reprint 2001).  Although that might cynically be interpreted as 'middle in-between',  I prefer to think of it as 'both and'.  We are in a free space, and God looks to us for leadership, not just a good place to be.  When Jesus appeared after the resurrection to his nervous disciples huddling behind closed doors he said,  ²¹“Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” ²² And with that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. ²³ If you forgive anyone’s sins, their sins are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.” (John 20:21-23).   I see nothing here about which church is going to be the true church or the successful church, and certainly nothing about comfortable places to be. I see only a Holy Spirit  empowered gospel message of peace!  There is need for our theology these days even if we were to blend in with other communions.  I see good possibility and a future home for Anabaptist Mennonites among liturgical communities, many of whom affirm and yearn for peace teachings.  Apparently one of Winnipeg's fastest growing Anglican churches includes many Mennonites!   It might even be possible for new Anabaptist members of Catholic churches to help that large Church find a way of reconciliation with indigenous peoples for the decades of damage they have done to their children in Residential Schools. All things are possible with our eternal everlasting God.  I also see a great need for evangelism in and among all of our churches, whether we label ourselves as conservative or liberal, or affiliate with ecumenists or evangelicals.  We dare not even pretend to be the church if we not be honest with ourselves and invite others in.  It is a new day for the church. Period.

Glen Guyton, not an ex-Mennonite ( ! ), but an ex-military officer now Executive Director of Mennonite Church U.S.A., puts it this way,  "It's not enough to say we are a historic peace church.  We must be a peace church for the present day". 

The Stretch

 

My last post, as well as an earlier one (The Need to Die, April 23) make considerable reference to Corona activity, whether that be reading or building or fixing things in the backyard, etc.  It's becoming clear to me that life requires more than things to do to keep from going crazy in your own backyard.  I also know I've gotta get out of here.  Social distancing or not, my life contains more than what's inside my fence.  Life also needs stretching.

Consider the picture above.  All these cyclists are a care group which our daughter is a part of.  This particular Saturday it was decided they would go on a bike ride within the ample space of a nearby provincial park.  My wife and I were invited to come along - just because we are Kimberly's parents or maybe because I have joined a number of them at some previous men's breakfasts.  At any rate it was our privilege to ride along with some very experienced commuter cyclists, some recreationists, and even a few for whom this was a stretch beyond the usual level of physical exertion.  It was a ride which would proceed at speed of the slowest - everybody very welcome! What a good way to spend two hours of a Saturday morning just before the anticipated rains would come.  Obviously the first benefit is to stretch and work out muscles that do not 'get it' just tinkering at home or sitting at Zoom meetings or email messages or even walking walking as we do a lot of.  The more significant stretch, however, is a relational one.  This Saturday group contains several on the autism spectrum, several parents of persons on spectrum, several happily married couples, several stressed marriages, a couple of divorcees, and one recently widowed, and even a couple of no-shows who simply could not make it because of physical mobility challenge.  Simply stated this is one of many groups in one of our community's evangelical churches.  It is a way of nurturing fellowship and mutual support within a faith community.

Another stretch comes to mind, at least for this guy who is always thinking of many things.  This is a life stretch.  It is a part of new relationships coming my way precisely in this new circumstance, and probably also because of old experiences now followed by opportunity to think about them more thoroughly.  One good example is the awareness and polemics regarding systemic racism, not only in the U.S. but (gasp) also in Canada, the country of wide open spaces and a liberal (?) immigration policy.  I just read an article about immigrants and their experience here, "For immigrants, hard work isn't optional - it's a matter of survival" <hello@sprawlcalgary.com>.  Many immigrants become minimum wagers here; and that is followed by political rhetoric about "they all taking our jobs", and then that followed by "those lazy indigenous people should go get a job".  Main point here, our country, our communities including most of our churches, must recognize that a short while ago we were guests of the Indigenous, our hosts.  Unavoidably now we must think forward.  Thinking preservationist is unrealistic and counter productive.  The good life we have apparently earned really contains a huge measure of gift - from our Creator and from those who were here before.  The stretch? I've said it before, and must again; we are entering a new day.  Churches must learn how to include "all of these". This particular church of the bike ride is providing delightful support for the emotionally and spiritually needy - just because they delight in fresh opportunities because of new life in Jesus Christ.

Tomorrow, however, I will meet with some very good new friends.  They also are Christians (yes, new life in Jesus!) recently immigrated from Africa, unemployed or underemployed (see above) plus, some are refugees and some immigrants.  They are in need of Christian worship space.  Can we as Caucasian Christians accommodate?  Very appropriate request and it appears we can help, but we cannot provide for the painful needs of family members back in South Sudan.  At this point, and based on the stretch of new friends gleaned from yesterday's bike ride, we will move forward together in a good way - perhaps in a way not quite envisioned just yet.  The amalgamation, the knitting together of communities will be a process of many years affecting both us Caucasians and my very tall black African friends, perhaps even in a spirit of gratitude for the Treaty land we dwell on?  In my mind this is stretchy material and it is of God.  This is the material for the future of a world that is repopulating.

Two scriptures come to mind: Isaiah 54:2 “Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back; lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes"; and Matthew 28:19
Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit."  God is larger than all of this (read my profile).

I enjoyed and also gained perspective from this group of adults celebrating each other even within their range of needs.  These are the occasions that make retirement exciting, even more exciting than a make-work project in my back yard.