You Can't Put this Underneath the Tree

Well, the time for reading the story of Jesus' coming and birth has come and gone. We were entertained last night at a small country church with old hymns and some amazing talent (I only dozed off about five times). The time for presents has come and gone, yet something lingers. As it has for the past two years, I cannot shake the ghosts of Christmases past.

For the last two years, I have not been in Florida for Christmas. I have spent Christmas with Jeanine and her family, participating in her family's traditions, borrowing from and inheriting some of them. I'm not sure that we've borrowed from any of my family's Christmas traditions; although, I wonder to a certain degree if we could actually call to mind any definitive traditions. I remember opening one Christmas present before bedtime on Christmas Eve, following the church service we'd attended. I think we would eat around noon, usually as a family, and I think that there was a Christmas movie, at the theater, thrown in there somewhere. Apparently, even though I struggled to see it, spending time together on Christmas day seems to have been an unspoken tradition for my family.

My reflections for the past few days have been directed toward the regret I feel toward my behavior as a teenager during the Christmas season. In looking back, I can see images of being concerned with what I was getting, with getting exactly what I wanted, and the behavior that ensued as a result of that goal or the result of not attaining that goal. My behavior during the Christmas season was very much material oriented rather than Christ, or other, oriented. Presently, I still do not know how to react when given a gift by someone, whether I enjoy the gift or not. Sure, I can say "thank you so much," but I don't have a poker face to save my life. I deeply struggled with this when my grandparents on my dad's side would purchase gifts for me and my sister. Their hearts were deeply rooted in the right place, but their gifts were always two or thee years behind the ages we actually were at the given time. And again, I can remember some of my responses, and they pain me today.

If I'm not careful, and sometimes I'm not, this reminiscing can quickly cast a dark shade over the entire Christmas experience. I find myself becoming cynical about the entire thing, reminding myself that Jesus of Nazareth was more than likely actually born in April, that Christmas was a contextualized pagan holiday, and that the wise men weren't about to march through the desert in the middle of December.

Yet, in the midst of all of this struggle, I am deeply deeply grateful for my wife and the magic that she spreads during the Christmas season. For her, Christmas is about the entire year; she is constantly looking for this or that little knick knack for her family, squirreling it away until it's time to wrap it for Christmas. And when December comes, she gets this twinkle in her eye that isn't even effected by my darkest anti-Christmas sentiments. She decorates the tree three weeks early; she puts up the Christmas candles, ornaments on the tree, and her cooking fills the house with all sorts of Christmas wonders. She is overcome with such a joy that not even her roughest day at work can overshadow it; she just deeply loves Christmas and everything for which this season stands. I love the innocence with which she loves this season, and I look forward with growing excitement to the time when she can pass on that innocent giddiness and deep joy to our children, helping them to know that Christmas is about much more than what comes under the tree, wrapped in shiny paper, and taped with a gift receipt just in case.

I am grateful for everything that my parents gave me in regard to Christmas - the traditions, the gifts, the cookies and fudge. I struggle with what to do with the regretful memories, but I am more and more grateful for my wife's ability to help me create new memories that will one day overshadow old memories with the light of love that twinkles so brightly in her eyes during the last month of each year.

I love you, Jeanine.
Merry Christmas!!

Wintry Wondering Home

Brakes to the floor send me sliding,
careening toward the snow packed median.
No matter. The gas gauge reads almost empty,
though I'm not walking away; that would be too far.
Stuck in the middle, stuck in the snow and cold,
heated by the last gas dregs, I shiver as I imagine
what it might mean to move my legs
and walk back toward the place from whence I've come.
The lights are there, but the city seems so far.
The gas gauge reflects my heart; not fully but nearly empty.
There is warmth there and food; there is nothing in this median
but an empty memory of a rapid slipping and sliding,
moving further and faster away from the place whence I've come.
Before I realized I had moved my legs,
I was driving faster than I could imagine.
Now here I am, headed home, on a road without exits, in the cold.

Wintry Wondering Away

I’m driving east headed away from you.
Snowblind drives push me away from the center
and the car is slipping on this icy road.
I’m bent toward the wrong direction,
headed for the shoulder that is disconnected
from any hand holding me in this storm.
My white knuckles match what’s covering this road,
and I am insistently pressing for the center,
gripping the steering wheel that’s my last connection to you.
And, unless there is intervention or an eye in the storm,
I'm going to keep headed for disconnected.
I'm screaming for exit but seeing none headed in this direction.

Questions and Reflections

For the past few weeks, Jeanine and I have been throwing around the idea of changing Sunday congregational gatherings; however, we don't want to be "consumeristic" Christians, hopping from congregation to congregation simply because "our needs aren't being met." However, we're struggling with finding "place" in the Sunday congregation we currently find ourselves a part of. There are, or so it seems to us, some pretty hard pressing issues regarding the congregation and our various interactions with persons in the congregation, primarily regarding a latent anti-intellectualism; yet, we're not sure what to do about it. So, after having thought about this, and praying in regards to it, for a few weeks, I've compiled a list of reflection questions that you'll find below. Please feel free to comment.

In regard to the Sunday congregational gathering that we attend:

1) What does it mean to be faithful, or to practice faithfulness, in a congregational setting when that setting:

A) does not act as a primary source for Christian community?
B) does not seem to, generally speaking, honor our gifts and talents?

Yet

A) provides space for congregational worship (primarily through music)?
B) provides opportunity to see friends we do not often see?

2) Why does making a decision regarding where to attend a Sunday congregational gathering bother me so much?
3) Are we asking too much of the church we attend when we ask to be stimulated intellectually?
4) Are we asking too much when we ask church leadership to be faithful to the biblical text in relation to their own cultural bias when interpreting that text?
5) Are we expecting too much, or assuming too much, when we hope that the congregation is not playing into the sheep/shepherd mentality* in regards to their pastors?
6) When does one choose to leave, realizing that every body of Christian believers has difficulties, and how does one leave well?

*The mentality that one blindly follows leadership because of charismatic personalities, pastoral gifts, etc. without attempting to study Scripture for themselves, question the teaching and authority of leadership, etc.

Feels Like Saturday

Lately, it would seem as though I have not had much time for any type of reflection. My life has been sans Scripture reading, sans meditation, very little prayer, and, to be honest, I feel like I'm living in a perpetual Saturday-after-the-crucifixion. My liturgical life consists of a short breath prayer every morning right before work, specifically for safety for our crew and for shared workmanship while at the job site. Trust me, after falling ten feet onto a concrete slab a couple of weeks ago, prayers for safety are no joke.

Tonight, I caught about fifteen minutes to just reflect on my life as it currently stands. I have felt lately as though my creative juices are drying up like a river in a hot desert, so I tried my damnedest just to imagine something. I don't know how you feel about visions, and I'm not entirely sure it was a vision, as much as I was so desperate to imagine myself in the story of Scripture that my mind created the image I'm about to describe. I suppose it doesn't really matter; the significance is in the meaning, not necessarily in the source of the mental movie. What I saw was me, walking through what would have been a first century village, walking near places like the pool of Siloam or what could have been the well where Jesus talked to the Samaritan woman. I felt very much alone, weeping as I remembered, as though I were one of his disciples, the amazing times we had had following Jesus, hearing his stories, watching him heal people, and even eating dinner with some of the lowest of society. Those were the good ol' times. But today is Saturday and he's dead and I'm alone, fairly certain that the authorities have stopped looking for us, and I'm just wandering these streets and back alleys, remembering the past two or three years of my life, wondering how I'm going to fill my empty stomach. With Jesus around, there never was a lack for fish and bread. But today, no one is around. Some of the other followers just returned to their work, but I was just a wandering beggar before I fell in with Jesus and the other rabble that followed him. He healed me of a blindness I'd had since birth; he also healed me of my inability to see others beyond my own nose. He healed me of a lot of things to be honest; his love and tender care were sometimes more powerful than that first instance of being able to see light and colors and people; although, the people were kind of fuzzy at first. I had never been loved like that. But now he's dead; his tomb is just around the corner there. The authorities crucified him yesterday. He's just there, or somewhere I suppose; I never really picked up on his messages of the afterlife; I think I was probably too busy noticing everything for the first time in my life. He's dead, but I can still see. He's there in that tomb, of which I can see the stone rolled in front of; although, I'm not sure why there are guards there. Stupid authorities, always suspicious of the next would-be-messiah and his followers. Oh well, love your enemies. It was easier to ignore them when I couldn't see them, but, one thing Jesus did do when he was alive was to show an example of what it really meant to love. I tried my hardest to pick up on that one. Oh well, everyone has to be suspicious of one thing or another, I suppose. Me, I'm a little suspicious and curious regarding the mysterious mumbo-jumbo Jesus kept talking about like resurrection and coming back to life. I might have new eyes, but I'm not entirely sure I'll see that one in my life time. But, it would be great to see him again. To hear his voice, to feel his hand on my eyes, to smell the salt air in his hair after he'd been down by the sea for the night. Maybe we would go over to Levi's house and grab a bite to eat. Either way, I don't have to have eyes to see that my stomach is empty. I'll come back to the tomb tomorrow to pay my respects; I think some of the women are planning on coming with some perfumes and whatnot for the body. Peter said something about possibly stopping by but only under cover of darkness. That guy is super scared to get caught by the authorities; he should be, with that great big mouth of his. Oh well, if they come by, I'll just join them. For now, I'm going to find something to eat.

And, so, for the time being, I find myself in a perpetual Saturday. Jesus is dead it feels like most days, but I am still healed and the memories of our times together are enough to carry me through until Sunday. Fortunately, hindsight is 20/20, and even an old, blind beggar like me can see that Saturday won't last forever.

Returning to Wonder Through the Eucharist

"The inability to fully know God is not the source of eternal frustration; rather, the experience of eternal contemplation is fulfilling in itself. In [Thomas] Aquinas's words: 'Nothing can be wearisome that is wonderful to him that looks on it, because as long as we wonder at it, it still moves our desire. Now the created intellect always looks with wonder on the divine substance, since no created intellect can comprehend it. Therefore, the intellectual sub-stance cannot possibly become weary of that vision.' In Aquinas's description of the beatific vision, the human faculties remain active and find happiness in the unceasing activity of contemplating God. God's overabundant nature remains incomprehensible as it forever moves the intellect's desire to know it and satisfies the mind in the experience of wonder. Even in the eschaton—in "salvation" or "heaven"—humanity enjoys an everdeepening coming-to-know-God that is never exhausted. The human posture toward the incomprehensible mystery of God does not aim to control or reach exhaustive comprehension; rather, the goal is wonder itself. (Fletcher, Jeanine Hill. The Lion, the Wicked, and The Wonder of it All. 2007).

What does wonder do? What is the purpose?
We sometimes have experiences in life that are “mountain top,” in which we experience God in a very profound, powerful, moving way. However, most of life is made up of mundane, routine experiences in which we can easily get lost, forgetting or neglecting to see not only what is right in front of us but also what is to the left and right of us, behind us, above us, and below us. The business of life easily becomes the busy(ness) of life. To return to a sense of wonder is to welcome the Holy Spirit’s ability to intercept our vision in order to realign our sight to see everything around us. In so doing, the Spirit of God repositions us to experience the presence of God in everything created. As we reflect and meditate on God as we see him in Scripture, creation begins to reflect back to us what our minds are meditating upon as we read.

So what?
The original intent of God’s plan was that we would live with him and others in relationship, in creation, experiencing all of the glories that he had created. Obviously, we experienced a bit of a bump in the road and, now, both humanity and creation itself experience the effects of the fall. Fortunately, that speed bump will be leveled out in the culmination of all things, but for now, we still experience separation from God’s original intentions. However, taking the time to wonder at creation, to meditate upon what we see reflected in it, we can catch glimpses, though through a glass darkly, of what was the original intention.

Now what?
When we partake of the body and blood of Christ in communion, we should be encouraged to wonder at what is around us. What do you see to your left, to your right? What do you see out the window? What do you smell? What do you taste? What do you hear? Everything that our senses experience in creation was made through Jesus. In Colossians, Paul writes, “For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross” (Colossians 1:19-20).

Therefore, as we partake in communion, let us remember that God has reconciled to himself all things through the broken body and poured out blood of Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

Musings on Recent Events

Well, I'm tired after another day of work. That's right, I am, finally, able to work in Canada. After a year of moving through the immigration process, not being able to work, and watching God provide for me and Jeanine in truly amazing ways, I am now gainfully employed with a house framing company in Edmonton called Beam Craft Construction. A typical day begins at 5:45am when I wake up, take a shower, eat breakfast, read a chapter in Acts, and head off to whatever house we're working on. The work day begins at 7am and ends at 5:30pm, which ends up being a ten hour day. Five days a week. This is quite the difference from doing a whole lot of nothing for an entire year.

In the past week and a half that I have been working, I have been amazed by what God has truly provided in this new part of our journey. Beam Craft Construction is owned by Jason Beamish; he and two other of our crew members are followers of Jesus (John and Julius). This is truly amazing, as the construction industry rarely has companies that are owned and operated by Christians. The company that I worked for in Kentucky, Absher Building and Custom Contracting was also a Christian owned and operated company. It's awesome to be able to be at work and still discuss meaningful and real life issues even on the job site. Granted, we don't always agree on everything, but that makes it all the more fun! Not only is this a bonus, I have found that the work keeps me in a constant state of humility. On most days, I am the oldest person on site; other than the owner, Jason, and one other crew member, everyone else is under thirty. It hasn't been extremely difficult, though it has been odd taking orders from those younger than myself. However, I figure if I don't know something, it's safer for me to ask questions, especially on a construction job site. I thought about this today, as I realized that all leaders must learn how to be followers as well. This doesn't necessarily mean that they are following in the same area of their life that they are leading; there simply needs to be a place in their life where they are willing to adjust their leadership mentality to a follower mentality.

I am still working with My People International, part time. Jeanine and I have had wonderful opportunities in the past year to watch God move in incredible ways in the lives of various friends and family members in the global indigenous community. I suppose that, were I into putting labels on my life, I would say that I am currently in the business of tent making. Paul, on his missionary journeys, would sometimes make tents in order to provide for the work he was doing for God's kingdom in various cities, thus the term "tentmaker."

Jeanine and I are extremely grateful for this new part of the journey; we now move from a one income family to a two income family. Although it has been a blessed year, it has also had many moments of trying situations where our faith was bent, stretched, and shredded in many different ways. We are deeply grateful that the God we serve is extremely patient and understanding as regards growth pains, times of doubt, and struggle in the lives of his children. If God has gray hair, I'm sure that we added a few to his glorious head.

There is much more to blog about, but as I am tired, I will end here. It's just been quite a while since I have blogged, and I wanted to update on the good things that Jeanine and I are experiencing lately.

Reflections on My Own Limitations

I cannot love you any more today;
your investments have all dried up, and now
my last exchange with you is to say goodbye
and watch you walk away with Narcissus.
I bid you farewell and wish you no harm,
only that which breaks you against a stone
and shatters the vain image of yourself
that you purchased for the price of your soul.
Should you request my help, no offer stands.
This heart and these hands have reached their limit,
and lest a power greater than mine
should change that, I bid you farewell dear friend.

If there is no cycle of give and take,
then the bond proves to be weak, if not fake.

Reflections on the Fragmentation of Society: Car Alarms

"Distance negates responsibility" - Guy Davenport

For the past two evenings, as Jeanine and I lie in bed reading, a car alarm has gone off somewhere in our neighborhood. This is no surprise, as Edmonton usually has a rash of car break ins once or twice a month. I don't know if it has been the same car each time, but it has, both times, taken the owner nearly ten minutes to silence the loud, obnoxious noise coming from the vehicle.

For the past two evenings, following the cacophony of noise ripping through the evening air, I have wondered quite a bit about car alarms. About the why of them, the inferred side effects, and the results of their loud, obnoxious sirens. That people have to have car alarms due to the greed, violence, and other vices rampant in our world today, is disturbing.

I suppose the why is fairly obvious - so other people won't break in and steal possessions. Or the car for that matter. Yet, when I lie in bed and consider the why of the car alarm, I am disheartened. Sure, in a world of greed and theft, it is probably important to guard one's possessions from thieves. But, that little red or blue light in the dashboard doesn't only say "stay away" to the bad guys. It's like a big blinking sign that says "HANDS OFF!!" or "Get the hell away from me and my things!" to everyone within walking distance. I wonder if it also acts as a passive means by which persons can keep other people at arms length, so that they have to admire the shiny car with the blue blinking light from far away.

Thus, the inferred side effects of the car alarm begin to spread with each blink of that little blue light. People stay further away; when the key clicker makes its bling bling sound, sure, people look, but sometimes they also steer clear. And, instead of waving to one's neighbors and announcing that the car alarm has, once again, done its job (or not, as is the case in my neighborhood), folks climb into their cars and drive away. I sometimes wonder if the term "Neighborhood Watch" didn't become a catch phrase for thieves looking for the weakest neighborhoods, those wherein neighbors didn't watch out for other neighbors' belongings. Have car alarms done away with the responsibility of one's neighbor to watch out for the benefit of their fellow human being?

And, as I lie here in bed, I wonder if the alarm siren is the requiem of a connected society. And as I roll over to go to sleep, I wonder whether or not someone, who seems to isolate themselves behind alarms, has had their car broken in to, or if someone else simply walked to close to the car. Tonight, I will fall asleep to the sound of an obnoxious siren that draws both attention and people to a little blinking light that continues to flash, "Get away!"