all apologies.

Today was a momentous day in the Canadian House of Commons as our Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, stood before a gathering of other politicians and, more importantly, a gathering of First Nations members, and apologized. An excerpt:

Mr. Speaker, I stand before you today to offer an apology to former students of Indian residential schools. The treatment of children in Indian residential schools is a sad chapter in our history.

In the 1870's, the federal government, partly in order to meet its obligation to educate aboriginal children, began to play a role in the development and administration of these schools.

Two primary objectives of the residential schools system were to remove and isolate children from the influence of their homes, families, traditions and cultures, and to assimilate them into the dominant culture.

These objectives were based on the assumption aboriginal cultures and spiritual beliefs were inferior and unequal.

Indeed, some sought, as it was infamously said, "to kill the Indian in the child."

Today, we recognize that this policy of assimilation was wrong, has caused great harm, and has no place in our country.

The aboriginal community in Canada has been seeking an apology for a long time, indicating that it will help to put the pain behind them. My hope and prayer is that this apology will be more than a political posture, but will truly bring closure for both sides so that reconciliation can continue.

pillaged!

I knew something was amiss when I noticed my change-holder, expertly crafted from the finest popsicle sticks by one of the girls in Aroland, resting uneasily upside-down on the corner of a stack of picture frames I had sitting on my passenger seat.

Swift has been through a lot in the three years I've owned her. She's had her extremeties ripped off not once. Or twice. Three times. She was once kneed in the back by a teenager while he struggled to climb over her. She's been bumped and bruised several times in Northern Ontario, including a vicious attack by a six-year-old hockey-stick-wielding maniac. She's made it over the Rockies twice while at the hands of two adventure-seekers who refuse to stop her at the edge of a field, simply for the photographic opportunity.

But now, in her retirement years, I have decided she needs to spend the rest of her days in peace, commuting only minutes to work everyday with her evenings spent at the end of a calm, quiet, cul-de-sac. Or so I thought.

I stared at the overturned change-holder in wonder, thinking to myself in typical Steve Urkel fashion, Did I do that? But upon further reflection I realized that, no, I could not have unwittingly done something so obvious. Besides, if I did dump out the contents of my change-holder, would they not be glittering back at me from all over the seat and floor? One would think so, but they were, in fact, gone.

The next thing I noticed was the radio. Um, let me rephrase that...

The next thing I noticed was the lack of radio. It was gone. My sole reprieve from the insanity of BC driving ... gone -- expertly and unceremoniously removed from it's once permanent home in the console. And with it, my latest relaxant: The Verve: Urban Hymns. Gone.

Swift had been pillaged for all she was worth: six dollars in change and a CD Stereo system. Oh, Swift.

counter-culture

I recently stumbled across a website for an online campaign, Make Affluence History. I'm not sure how long this campaign has been running and I have a sense that it doesn't have as strong a following or is as global as another, much-loved and popular campaign, Make Poverty History. Yeah, it's great to have a global campaign against poverty, but the convenient aspect of such campaign is that we can still support the cause from our homes and the comforts we refuse to leave behind. We can wear a wristband in the name of a good cause and pretend that we've done enough to solve the problem we think we're addressing. Oh, wristbands...

This campaign against affluence reminds me of #6 on the recently updated seven deadly sins. Gone are the sins of lust, greed, sloth, gluttony, envy, pride and wrath. Today's sins are meant to reflect modern society, though I tend to think that adding "polluting the environment" was more of a response to popularity trends than anything else; like what any politician would add to his (her?) platform in order to obtain votes. Though I doubt, with items such as "birth control" on the list, people are flocking to the Catholic Church for it's updated list of sins.

What I like about the Make Affluence History campaign is that the idea behind it (social awareness and real action) is so counter-cultural. I have for years attempted to write something here about counter-culturalism, but have yet to string my words together on this topic in any coherent manner. Though I like where I was headed in the following unpublished post, also titled "Counter-Culture", written last September:

I'm ready to buy into the system. The system I have fought against for so long has finally latched it's little hooks into my wandering mind, and taken hold. I want it. It is whatever it is you see as you sit in your living room. The TV, the couch, the bookshelf. It is whatever catches your eye as you roam around the office. The new computer, the steady income, the established position. The title. It.

This as I read a book entitled: The Jesus of Suburbia: Have We Tamed the Son of God to fit our lifestyle?

A couple of nights ago, I sat on the edge of a lake in Algonquin Park. It is one of the rare places in Ontario where you can sit still and literally listen to nothing, except for the odd tent zipper opening or closing and a distant loon call. ...or a fireside debate. At one point during the night, either through a need to discuss certain matters, or through a boldness brought on by a safe amount of alcohol, I asked the question to my fellow church-going camp-mates, 'What do you think of church?'

'It's over-rated,' came an immediate reply. Impressed by such a quick response, I asked why that was his first reaction. 'Because it's what you said last week,' he replied. Touché.

So what does any of this have to do with "the system", or "The Jesus of Suburbia", or Algonquin Park, for that matter? It all comes back to something that has long sat in the recesses of my mind, occasionally coming forth to remind me that there is something more to the faith I adhere to. It is one thing that brings hope and despair to the life of one who is required to live out their faith in the North American context. It is the understanding that, in his lifetime, Christ was counter- cultural. It's what made him so compelling to the masses, and so problematic to the church authorities of his day.

I'm not sure if I'm still ready to buy into "the system"...

[as I defined in another unpublished post from last February:

the system

We're surrounded by it everyday, so it's hard to notice. It's like the air we breathe. The ground we walk on. The route we travel to work. It's called 'the system'. And like all these things, it changes. Our air is less breathable. The ground transforms from dust to concrete. Our route is widened and more stop lights are added. The system confines, all in the names of 'freedom' and 'progress'. And we keep with the system because it's far better than any other system anywhere else in the world. Or so we think.

The system surrounds, infects, pervades all aspects of North American life as we know it today: cultural, financial, economical, religious, educational, our global perspective. And the system is run by one thing: money.

It doesn't change. And if it does, it does so incrementally, that the change is only recognizable when it's taken away for a period of time. Only when it's replaced, or when the routine is returned to do we see the change. And the potential harm it is.

It's the system.]

...but I'm still captivated by this idea of being counter-cultural. Last night I enjoyed a Starbucks Grande Caramel Macchiato with the leader of our small group, an older man recently retired from teaching. We got to talking about being counter-cultural, he and I. I told him a bit about our struggle in registering for wedding gifts, that we have a desire to register only for the things we need, but find it hard to justify the expenses of even these things. And since we do plan on living here for at least a couple of years, we recognize that the things we are registering for are needed. We love the idea of being Christ-like in a counter-cultural sense, but are caught between that and the reality of where we live. Ha. It begs the question, doesn't it?

Footnote: I'm actually quite disturbed by the fact that my intended mockery of the WWJD bracelet early in this post has bitten me in the ass. Quite disturbed.

the epitome of laze.

A couple of weeks ago, while catching up on some taped Lost episodes, we were interrupted by the requisite commercial break, including one about this refrigerator. Fridges have come a long way since the birth of freon. Not only do they come with ice-dispensers, but with TVs, internet, self-ordering functions, and yes, even door-ajar alarms. But this fridge has even beaten that idea with its self-closing function. That's right. The doors close on their own. It is, in my estimation, the epitome of laze. I'm the first to admit that I enjoy lazing around, so please note the hypocrisy in some of what I am about to say, though in my mind I make a distinction between sitting around doing nothing and allowing my fridge to close itself. It begs a fundamental question concerning needs vs. wants.

The idea of needs vs. wants mainly comes from recent experiences as Susan and I have been registering for wedding gifts. There are certain things we need. As we're pretty much starting out fresh, we need a kitchen table and we need dishes to eat off our table. We need a bed and we need blankets to keep us warm in that bed. We need living room furniture and we need snack bowls to eat from while we sit in that furniture. This may even go beyond what others may consider needs, but we genuinely think we need these things. The difficulty we've been having has been those other things that, well, we'd like to have but don't necessarily need. I'd like to think we would use a blender, but I'm also aware of the fact that the idea of having a blender is much nicer than the reality of using one. Do we need a 4-popper toaster? We can probably get by with a 2-popper, but we've registered with a company that only seems to carry 4-poppers. Do we need the expensive duvet and duvet cover? No, we could probably get by with an Ikea version of the same, but Ikea doesn't do gift registries. Do we need the $200 pair of kitchen chairs? No (see our Ikea quandry). How about the $200 coffee maker? ...wait, is that even a valid question? Of course we do! (note previous remark about hypocrisy).

Contentment in material possessions is difficult in our culture, isn't it? How do we balance out the things we need with the things we want? Or should there even be a balance? What does it mean when we read David's words in the oft-quoted verse, The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not be in want? (Psalm 23). Does David have no want because God has given everything he ever wanted? Or is there no want because God is everything he needs? Easy for David to say, he probably didn't even like coffee. But if the latter were true, how does that fit into our North American culture where God so easily takes a sideline to our credit card? Where our wants and needs can be bought just around the corner, whether we can afford it or not?

When I was in Northern Uganada a couple of summers ago, we were encouraged to discover how God was challenging us in our lives. I left pondering the question, why do I need God? I'm not convinced the answer to that question will easily come while I remain saturated in our culture. Where every drive to Vancouver reminds me of the insurmountable wealth this city boasts. Where the average house costs a little less than $500,000, the highest average in Canada. And I'm convinced that the church here will never be able to answer that question, because it's too busy fighting. Or maybe that is the challenge: to discover a need for God in an individualistic, materialistic, increasingly lazy culture. I'd write more, but I left the fridge door open.

some things are worth committing to...

Spring has sprung in the West. I've counted 4 robins so far, seen daffodils rise from their hibernation, and felt the warmth of the sun on those oh-so-rare sunny days in BC. Change is in the air, I can feel it. This isn't going to be one of those foolish posts where I state I will do better in my blogging and then fail to do so. While I have accomplished most of the things on my to-do list, I've become more and more aware of the effect that routine has on one's time. The weeks pass quickly from one to the next. Here we are, mid-March already. Since writing about being complacent, I've discovered that maybe my complacency is more a result of being in routine of busyness than of being lazy. I always found something else to do instead of the things I had on my to-do list. And, I'll admit, I had a lot on my mind dealing with a topic of great fear and struggle: commitment.

There are some things in life that I have committed to out of obligation or temporary desire or need. I've committed to a job temporarily for the security that money brings. I was committed to a certain gas station for the two Air Miles I collected on each fill-up (until I discovered that they profit over $44 billion annually). I'm committed to Apple computers, despite the fact that my previous laptop died due to a defective part and this laptop is on its way out due to the same issue. Incidentally, I'm committed to making foolish, spur-of-the-moment purchases (ie. defective iBooks and snowboards...James?)

And then there is the commitment to end all commitments: marriage. It took a little while for me to get around to this one and it was, in fact, much harder than I expected. Not because I don't love Susan, not because I wasn't convinced that her and I could be together for the rest of our lives (heck, I tried convincing her of that for three years before she caught on), and not because, deep down I knew that part of my reasoning for returning to BC was for her. These things I know, but there was still that part of me that wrestled with the idea of giving up some of my individual freedoms to be with another for life.

We talked last night, Susan and I, about this whole 'love' thing. We both know that there will be times where our love for eachother will be more out of choice than of desire. We both know that love can be tough, that relationships can be a struggle. But the awesome thing about commitment is that we're sold on eachother. And we're committed to eachother, no matter what. I'd like to believe that I know exactly what I'm getting myself into, but I'm learning that life is about learning, about discovering, and yes, about relationships.

oh, complacency

I'm trying something new. It's been almost a month since my last post, which is quite distressing and disheartening. I'd like to say that I am uninspired, but I know that's really not true. I've just grown complacent. Lazy. My week has become one of routine. Up at 7:30, work from 8:30 until 5:00, go home or to Susan's, then go to bed. Throw in a Monday night Bible Study and a weekend of pure nothingness + one church service, et voila. C'est ma vie. Oh, complacency.

It's been a long time since I've had a steady 9-5 job, and I'd kind of forgotten what it feels like to be in a routine. But I'd like to say this wasn't intentional. The thing about slipping into a routine is just that -- it's something you slip into. My hill of complacency began with the new year, as I started at this steady job at a print company. Gone are the days of Santa Claus photography, of mornings off and the freedom to do whatever I felt like doing whether it be job-seeking, photography, dreaming, or video games, or nothing. So, down I slid, but gently, so as not to awaken my restless soul. I'd like to say I'm content, and I am, for the most part. But there's that restless side of me that wants to be let out, if it could only break past my accustomed laziness. Emails sit in my inbox, unreplied. Friends await phone calls, undialed. Uncles and youth deserve a visit, unaccomplished. Thoughts demand paper, unwritten.

The to-do list in my mind grows untouched, and I simply sense it's growth, unrestrained. And so, here's what I've decided to do. My lunch break generally consists of an hour sitting behind my computer, diddle-daddling on Facebook, on cbc, on eating my peanut butter and jam sandwich. My new idea, my intention, is to use it wisely, and productively. Perhaps a daily blog will come out of it (don't hold your breath, though). This could even be called an un-Lent. I'll start doing something, dang it. And maybe I'll get somewhere....

memories...

The last few days have been, in my mind, interspersed with memories of the year gone by. 2007.

Reading my post from just over a year ago, I got to thinking of the year that just was. I remember that day, sitting up in Nakina just after Christmas when Amanda asked me what the year 2006 meant to me. And now, one year later, I'm trying to think of what 2007 was. I don't think that when I was asked that question a year ago, I would have thought that just a few months later I would be back in Nakina, spending my summer in Aroland. Already last summer seems like a distant memory. Looking through the photos of last summer bring back some great memories. Aroland definitely stands out in my mind when I think of 2007. I think of baseball, swimming, kayaking, biking. I think of the kids, of Merl and Cody, Brady, Bethany and Tammy, Niki, Tiffany and so many more...there's at least 30 names and faces in my mind still. And I think of Mary, who, only after a few months, miscarried. From that whole episode, I've learned to trust God to do what's best. John and Janet remain in Aroland, continuing to serve the community in any way they can, .

2007 was, for me, a year of experience and experiencing. From the breaking of a heart to it's mending in unexpected ways. From returning to an old life to beginning a new one in a brand new place. From urban life to the almost extreme of rural. New cultures and a new way of life. And finally, settling and constantly learning to be content, whatever the circumstances. There's something to be said about contentment.

what do you want for christmas?

Santa rides the escalator. It's unbelievable, I know. You'd think with his ability to travel the globe in a singular night, he'd at least be able to call in a reindeer when he wants to get to the second floor of a mall. But, no. He rides the escalator. This is what Santa does when he's bored. He wanders. Not that he's been too bored lately. There has been a lot of kids who'd like a word with the man in red. Ah, Christmas. What would it be without Mr. Claus and us elves?

My life as an elf began with a simple, innocent reply to an employment ad on Craig's List: "Wanted: Photographer. Email resume and availability to address below..." Perfect, I thought. Dreams of driving around Vancouver, camera in hand and freedom to snap whatever and wherever filled my mind. Though, in hindsight, I should have been tipped off about the reality of the position by the email address to which I sent off my resume. It consisted of two words: "hyper" and "busy". Dense, Matt. Dense. One week later I found myself behind a camera in a North Vancouver mall, ringing bells in order to attract the wandering eyes of children before snapping their photo on Santa's knee. One by one, the families line up like dairy cows queuing for their daily milking. Then in ones and twos and threes and fours, the kids crowd around Santa, or simply sit on his knee. And await the question.

I'm not sure I ever grew up believing in Santa Claus. Either my parents never properly introduced us, or my older siblings ruined the falsity of it all at too early of an age for me to remember leaving milk and cookies out the night before Christmas. Come to think of it, we never really had a night before Christmas full of expectation. Our night before Christmas was our Christmas, and was always the same: church and then presents. So, unless I was told that Santa came while we were in church, I guess I never believed in the guy. And here I was, day in and day out, reinforcing the lie that the man in the centre of my viewing lens was the Santa Claus. "Say cheese!" Click.

While the image transfers from lens to computer to paper, Santa Claus has a one-on-one discussion of all matters important. He asks them their name and how old they are. He sits them on his knee and whispers gently in their ear stories of life in the North Pole. Watching him at work, watching the look in the eyes of a child as they are told the story of a magic apple almost makes me want to believe in him as surely as the children do. But when all of the formalities are finished, he comes to the moment every child who believes in him waits for. He asks the question.

"And what do you want for Christmas?"

I have seen this happen over and over again. The question is asked, and the list that has sat so patiently inside the mind spews out of innocent mouths. One child, as Santa tells me later, wants a Robot for Christmas. But not just any robot: "By the way, Santa," he says a few minutes later, "I want the robot to clean my room." I have watched this scene play out over and over again. A young child jumps on Santa's lap and waits to be asked the question.

Enter a young girl, about 12 years old. She is dressed all in pink, and stands beside her father, waiting for a chance to sit on Santa's knee. But she must be patient, as they are many more children with a wish list on their minds.

"I want an iPod," says one child.
"Transformers!" yells another.

You almost wouldn't be able to tell there is something wrong with her, this twelve year old girl, if she only stood still. But then you see her walk. She limps a bit, evidently by her right leg, which seems to be unable to bend as well as the left. And then there's her arm. It doesn't move so well, either. In fact, it seems permanently stuck in an upright position, bent at the arm, holding her slightly contorted hand ever so close to her face. And still, she waits.

"I want a Barbie," a young girl announces.
"I want a Motorola Razr flip phone with a 3 year talk-and-text plan from Rogers." Teenagers.

The girl still waits. Perhaps it is autism that has stolen some of her ability. But she smiles. And when it is her turn, and Santa beckons her to come and sit on her knee, her smile grows ever wider. She will soon be asked the question. And so the young girl sits on Santa's knee. "Say Cheese!" Click. She continues to smile through the small talk, and patiently listens to Santa's reassuring words. Finally, the question. The question.

"And what do you want for Christmas?" he whispers.

"I want ... a new brain ..."


...so, what do you want for Christmas?

winter in white rock.

I had a job interview tonight at a church in White Rock, an upper-class town on the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Unfortunately, my interview coincided with the first real sign of winter in BC: snow. I say unfortunately for one reason, and that reason has to do with the reaction BC drivers tend to have towards the fluffy white stuff: panic. Sheer panic. A drive that should have taken 25 minutes turned into an hour and a half of agony as traffic came to a grinding halt, and I showed up for the interview half an hour late. Granted, there was quite a bit of snow, and most of the Lower Mainland has no way of cleaning it up. It usually sits on the ground for a day at most before warmer temperatures melt it away. But I'm not sure there was enough snow to account for the poor state of traffic I encountered everywhere I turned. So, in memory of this night, a poem:

Winter in White Rock

Snow fall, snow fall, it covers the land,
Roads are a mess, with not a spot of sand.

Cars in the ditches, hazards aglow:
Oh look! A Mercedes is stuck in snow!

Luxury cars, they put up no fight;
Beamer to the left, Lexus to the right.

Snow fall, snow fall, it covers the land,
Roads are a mess, with not a spot of sand.

seattle.

This past weekend brought an experience much enjoyed in the grand city of Seattle. It only takes a couple of hours to drive to the Emerald City, plus an hour or two for border traffic. Not bad for a lazy Sunday afternoon. I love Seattle. It settles nicely between Vancouver and Los Angeles on my rank of places I would love to live. Not only is it a beautiful city, but it is also extremely well designed, infrastructurally. Seattle boasts a well-organized spiderweb of bridges and tunnels and real highways, of which none exist in the Lower Mainland of BC. It's such a joy to weave through four lanes of highway. Vancouver has so much to live up to.

This latest venture to Seattle brought us to the Moore Theatre to catch Rob Bell in all his story-telling and deconstructing glory. He has an incredible way of picking apart the Christian faith, shuffling it around, and reorganizing it in an easy-to-understand-and-follow manner. Not that he gives a 'how-to' guide towards a better Christian life, like the latest book in the For Dummies series. Though I wouldn't be surprised if he published a book entitled Christianity for Dummies somewhere down the line. Never mind.

But one thing I do value in Rob Bell's words is his understanding of culture, and how certain ideas and stories in the Bible would be understood and read inside that culture. It's a perspective thing. Why would God ask Abraham to sacrifice his only son? Because, in those days, many cultures followed gods that demanded such a sacrifice. Child sacrifice was just a step towards appeasing the gods, and so it may not have come as a surprise to Abraham that the god he chose to follow would demand the life of his son. It's what you do to keep the gods happy. What's different about this god is that, at the last minute, he stops Abraham in mid-stab and provides an animal in recognition of Abraham's faith. The point of the story, according to Bell? Abraham's god is a god of provision. His god is different. His god cares. Unlike the gods of the surrounding cultures who would have allowed the murderous appeasement to continue.

The other aspect of Rob Bell's teaching that I much enjoy is the connection he makes between such age-old faith issues like sacrifice and present-day realities. Is sacrifice dead in our current Christian sphere of life? We'd like to think so. I mean there's no slaughter, no fire, no altar anymore. But we do still have the guilt and shame that was so directly associated with the sacrifices of old (the sacrifice was basically used to 'wipe the slate clean', so-to-speak. Forgiveness of sin came through sacrifice). So how do we deal with that now? Could it be the legalism that the church has fallen under? The 'do's' and 'don'ts' of Christianity? 'Do' this and you'll be right with God again. 'Don't' do this and you won't fall away. Yeesh. Not only does our society continue to pump fear into us, but so do many of the words we hear from the pulpit. And I'm not advocating a watering-down of the truths found in the faith, either. But there has to be a balance.

So what I love the most about the way Rob Bell's mind works is that he weighs everything out on the words and actions of Christ. Why is the altar no longer present in Christianity? Because a final sacrifice has been made. No more blood needs to be spilled. We hear it over and over again, but still struggle with this new foundation of faith: Grace. ...we'll save that topic for another day.

For more from Rob Bell, read his books or watch his movies.