time passes by

it's amazing how quickly time passes. almost one month ago, i drove my little swift into this little town with little clue as to what i would be doing. one month later, i sit in my little swift outside the local elementary school, 'borrowing' their high-speed internet connection. it's a decently warm day here in nakina, which is nice as the sun continues to melt the snow. yeah, that's right. snow. it fell from the sky a couple days ago, and on days like today it seems to be quickly disappearing into the earth. yeesh. 25 degrees earlier this week to freezing rain and snow a couple days later. northern ontario at it's finest, i'm sure.

as in the days of youth pastoring, i find myself questioning my effectiveness among the kids in Aroland. and i am learning to be content with the fact that this is likely a consistent concern among many who work with kids, teens, adults, elderly. it's part of our human desire to feel effective, useful, needed. i am not being asked for miracles. i am not being asked to solve the problems in Aroland. i am not being asked to meet every need that passes through my ears. for now i am simply being asked to show love to those whom i cross paths with in aroland. for some of these kids, it means encouragement, for others tough love, for others it's about reminding them that they have value. and for me it's constantly reminding myself that i don't have the answers, that i, too, am learning. it's reminding myself to put my pride aside -- that i am just like everyone else. no better, no worse. the difficulty is not in the reminders to humble myself, but in actually doing it. Pride can be such a blinder. For me, and likely for many in our culture.

radio.

Last Saturday, John Reynolds had the opportunity to share what he is doing in Aroland on The Drew Marshall Show. He was interviewed along with a survivor of the Canadian residential schools ("a religious system that abused [him]"). To better understand the current situation in many northern reserves and learn about one persons experience in the residential school system, download the mp3. Find the May 5 broadcast with John Reynolds and Rene Meshake.

shooting stars and satellites.

One of the amazing things about the North is the vastness of stars. I’ve noticed them several times while on my drive from Aroland to Nakina late at night, and tonight I decided to just sit on the back porch and stare at them for a while. There are two things that amaze me about the night sky: shooting stars and satellites. If you watch the night sky long enough, you will eventually see the dim light of a satellite as it maintains its orbit around the earth. To think that we have left our mark in the vastness of space is amazing. Yet, amazing as they are, they are in no comparison to nature’s satellites. The fact that there are objects crashing to earth, burning up in the atmosphere with such fanfare and beauty, blows my mind. It’s so easy to get caught up in the day to day and forget that we are just a speck in the vastness of this universe. Literally, just a speck. What is man that You are mindful of him?

.Sunday

Today I find myself at a new home, in a new town, doing a new thing. After a great week in Mexico and two awesome weeks in BC, I flew back into Thunder Bay on Monday morning. Following a pit stop at Starbucks for my last experience with a Starbucks coffee and high-speed internet, I began the trek up north to my new stomping grounds, still unsure of what to expect.

While in BC, I got an email from Ryan in Nakina. At one point in the email he mentioned something about getting my feet on the ground, and that they would be hitting the ground running. He was right. Between Nakina and Aroland, it’s been a busy week. A week of remembering names from my time here in December, of meeting new kids and new faces, of finding new muscles in my body, of learning the rules of floor hockey and of completely enjoying the life up here. I’m not sure I can call it the ‘Simple Life’ here, because this week has been anything but simple:

1) Hanging out and cleaning up around The Shack in Aroland
2) Refereeing a full day of floor hockey between area elementary schools
3) Hours of biking around Aroland with the kids
4) Weight-lifting with a teen in Aroland
5) Sorting and organizing wilderness trip gear
6) Moving boxes of clothes for a garage sale

Though most nights ended late for me with closing The Shack around 11 -11:30pm and then driving the half hour back along the potholed road between Aroland and Nakina, I have found myself going to bed with a smile on my face. Despite the busyness, it’s been a great week. Right now I feel like I’ve quietly slipped into life here.

And today it’s Sunday. A much needed day of rest. While it’s tempting to sit here and plan out a schedule for The Shack, or to drive out to Aroland to hang out with some of the kids, I now recognize the importance of taking a day to sit back and relax. Those things need to wait. Tomorrow’s a new day...

religion at a pub.

It doesn't take much to become involved in a conversation about religion. And more often than not, the topic is not even breached by the 'religious' ones....

This weekend we found ourselves at a resort in Kamloops. All eleven of us. We know eachother through school and through school connections. Over the past year we have all moved our separate ways, only to return to this chalet that overlooks Sun Peaks for a pre-wedding celebration. Our numbers will be reduced to nine in a short week's time.

Last night, we hit the town. ...well... We hit the village. Ski hills always have a village, and this one is no different. Though, with the end of the ski season, the village seems more like a ghost town. Those that remain behind are the outdoorsy type that find value and contentment in hanging around the ski resorts year round. Four of whom we met last night.

Part of our pre-wedding celebrations involved dressing up the bride and groom and heading to the local pub in search of a dance floor to bust some moves. The only pub open had no dance floor, and played 80s music all night long. Hardly conducive for us Dutchies (plus some) to break out our amazing dancing skills. And so, our night involved sitting around a table making as much noise as possible and talking to our local pubmates while enjoying the antics of the bride in her snakeskin pants.

Ski bums are cool folk. The four we met at the pub had an uncanny interest in our group. Probably because we tripled the amount of people in the pub while tripling the noise level inside those four walls. Our conversation began while paying the bill.

"Where are you guys all from?" one pubmate asked.
"The Lower Mainland area," I replied.
"How do you know eachother?"
"Most of us went to school together in Abbotsford."
"What kind of school?"
"It was a Bible College."

Let the religion discussion begin.

For the next hour and a half, four of us found ourselves engaged in conversation with the four of them. They were surprised by us. Surprised that we would walk into a pub at 11:30 at night. Surprised that we would order beer, and not 'specialty coffees', as was one girl's expectation. Surprised that we were 'cool people'. And perhaps they were surprised that we didn't sit and preach. We listened, we engaged, we challenged as much as we were challenged. I think in the end, we all learned a little more.

And we all agreed on one thing: Religion sucks. It truly does. Religion is the paintbrush that so easily strokes any person who might believe in a god with the same colour as the abusive priests, the hypocritical homosexual pastors, the adamantly anti-gay marriage campaigners (all three of which were mentioned by one pubmate as reasons why religion sucks). It's so easy to overlook us regular hypocrites, sinners, and God-followers when religious hypocrisy is such a mainstream idea to the atheist. The perception of Christianity is so easily skewed when human nature is involved. Does hypocrisy exist? In all of us, I would think. We all fail. All of humanity fails. Christian, Muslim, Jew, Atheist. That's just one thing that makes us all the same. But there's an expectation that Christians are perfect. Far from it.

Is the pursuit of a god just a crutch? A cop-out? Potentially, yes. If we let it become that. If the pursuit stops. If those of us who profess Christ fail to recognize 'the golden rule' that is so well-known (even by our pub friends): If love of self becomes more important than the love of our neighbour (and, ultimately God). When that happens -- and it will -- hypocrisy is soon to follow. Thank God for grace and forgiveness.

relaxed and random.

slightly more enjoyable than sitting on planes and slightly less enjoyable than sitting on trains is another favourite past-time of mine: sitting in coffee shops. It's a beautiful day in BC. A day in which I find myself hanging out in the Crescent Beach area of South Surrey taking in the sun, the beach, the railway that hugs the ocean's shore and the relaxed atmosphere of a local coffee shop. Today has been a day of catching up. On email, on photos, on Facebook, and on friends. I know these next two weeks will pass quickly, so I hope to enjoy as much of this atmosphere as I can before heading back to Nakina and the Starbucks-free world of Northern Ontario. Since my time has been spent catching up, I have had little time to reflect on my recent travels to Northern Ontario, or on Mexico. With those two events in the back of my mind, I have discovered a new joy: younger siblings. I've been staying at the home of one of the boys that I took to Mexico. They've taken in another roomer from Holland, so right now there are 5 boys aged 11 through 27 staying at my adopted home. Younger siblings are great. I find myself just sitting back and watching the antics of three brothers mocking and hitting eachother, laughing and talking together, and basically creating and maintaining insanity in their home. Younger siblings rock as much as older siblings. It's nice to be the older brother for once though.

lessons learned.

Another week flown by. The past 7 days have been spent with a group of 40 teens in Juarez, Mexico. It’s hard to describe the week that was. I am learning never to underestimate those whom I see as inferior. And it’s not the Mexicans I speak of.

One morning in Juarez, I stumbled upon another lesson in life…a lesson in humility. While seeking out my third cup of coffee, I happened to catch the tail end of an impromptu prayer session. Walking into the dining room at our work site, I came across a young man pouring his heart out to God. He sat at the table fervently praying for our team, for the Mexicans we served, for Juarez and for the hearts of everyone involved in our trip. His hands moved eloquently with the words he seemed to so carefully choose. The clarity with which he spoke seemed to contradict the person I saw him to be on the outside. And yet his words were so impactful, it brought a few of us to tears. Here was a young man of 22 years old, pouring out his vision, his dreams, his heart and passion in the presence of the few of us fortunate enough to observe and listen. Here was a young man completely devoted to what he believed and what he desired for our team and for those we served. Here were prayers straight from the heart. Prayers that in an odd sort of way, put me to shame. For though this 22 year old may look and act several years younger due to Down Syndrome, he has the one thing we so often lack: The faith of a child.

Kudos, Jasen

turning the page.if life is a book, it probably has a lot of chapters

I have often seen a book as a great metaphor for life. When fairly significant life changes occur, I tend to symbolize these moment as the beginning of a new chapter in my life. It seems I'm turning the page once again.

Chapter Seven

When I was in Nakina, I was presented with the opportunity to work with John Reynolds and the youth of Aroland for a longer period of time. It was an opportunity that excited me when I was up there, but was only something I kept in the back of my mind for the next few months after returning to the Grim. My desires to return to BC always remained, yet despite them, the timing never seemed fully right. I couldn't justify returning with nothing to do, and none of the passenger rail companies in BC responded to my resumés. So I began to resign myself to the fact that I would likely end up remaining at the print shop for a while until something else came up. Then came the call that I was being "let go". Something came up. Perfect. My decision to quit the night shift job was not as rash as it may appear, as I had always intended to quit before heading west in late March. And so begins chapter seven.

Around the same time as the job situations came up, I received an email from John. He was wondering what I was up to, and if I was still thinking about Aroland. Suddenly, the idea of Aroland worked it's way from the back of my mind to the very front. Three weeks later, it seems I'll be packing up the Swift for Northern Ontario. I leave Monday. The plan is to drive to Nakina, then fly out of Thunder Bay to Vancouver. From there, I will fly down to Mexico with some youth from the old church for a mission trip, then return to BC for a wedding in late April. Then it's back to Thunder Bay, and up to a new life in Nakina.

I've committed to being up north for four months, from May to August, giving me enough time to understand the needs in Aroland and whether I can be of service for a longer period of time. Since my work will primarily be volunteering with the Reynold's and with the youth of Aroland, I will be needing financial support. For more information on what I will be doing, please read my Support Letter. If you would like to support me financially, click here. Though I'm not sure exactly what to expect when I arrive in Nakina, I am expecting chapter seven to be a huge challenge. Pray.

Postmodernity, Atheism, Christianity, Questions

I'm not much of a YouTuber. Despite the hype and the innumerable mentions on nightly news, I've never caught on to the fad. Until today. I had no idea there was this secret underground world of Christian vs. Atheist debating going on via video. Encroyable, I say! I don't profess to know much about Atheism. Heck, I don't profess to know much about Christianity. It seems that whenever a discussion, editorial, video, blog, or any form of interactive media touches on why one chosen path is superior to the other, a heated debate ensues. More often than not, the debate occurs between head-in-the-sand, self-proclaimed Christians, and head-in-the-sand, self-proclaimed, 'free thinking' Atheists who banter back and forth with no real point. Search for "blasphemy challenge" on YouTube and you will come across a host of videos dedicated to an organization's call for people to 'commit the unforgivable sin' and deny the existence of any god. Read through the comments, and you will inevitably come across a debate where both 'sides' attempt to 'prove' why their 'belief' is 'right' and 'true'. Postmodernity in essence.

What is postmodernity? For the purposes of this post, I will use only one part of the ever-broadening definition of postmodernity, that is: all truth is relevant. That what you believe is fine for you to believe it. Meanwhile, I'll believe what I want to believe, because it works for me. There is no foundational truth in which to place our belief system because we will all have our own.

There are elements of truth to that. What I believe is based on my experiences, my understanding, my upbringing, what I read and how I interpret it. However, for me all of that is filed under the foundational beliefs of Christianity. Ugh. Ugh because that label is so despised by the 'rational-thinking' atheists in the world. To them, I have bought into a system of comfort. I've been brainwashed by a human contraption. Could it be that they have simply bought into a different system of comfort?

What I've come to understand through reading the various comments and debates on YouTube is this: Nobody has it all figured out. It takes faith in the words of a centuries-old book to believe in God, and it takes faith in scientific theories to believe there is no God. Neither 'side' has their faith figured out. All we can do, really...is ask questions. When the question-asking stops, legalism sets in. It becomes harder to grow in an understanding of what your beliefs mean when the answers are already provided for you by way of a faith doctrine or the doctrine of rational-thinking. For the Christian, the question we need to be asking should be: what does it mean when Christ says to love God and love my neighbour in the world I find myself in? Start there, and the questions will never stop. For Atheists, the question they need to be asking should be: Why do I find myself in this world? To atheists though, maybe there is no point to our existence. I think it would take a lot more faith to believe that. Then again, I am biased.

the B-I-B-L-E (yes, that's the book for me!)

I've taken to reading the Bible lately. It's a Lent thing, don't ask. Funny how one can pick up a book on any topic and start reading it with no thought as to what the 'underlying meaning' is behind the words read. Not so with the Bible. Since birth, I've been told that there is meaning behind everything that's written between Genesis 1 and Revelation 22. Everything. So, say when you read about the Israelites slaughtering the Canaanites, we're taught that God was giving them the Promised Land. If the Canaanites stayed, they would taint the Israelites, we're told. And that just couldn't be. Complete, total annihilation. And the Israelites failed. Complete, total failure. They got tainted. So we go through the Judges, who basically set the Israelites straight before dying and leaving them to their own waywardness. Proving that God cared for them because he sent them various Judges to rescue His people, we're told. How I would love to read the Bible for the first time. Maybe then I could get through more than 5 chapters at a time. It's ingrained in us, I think. Those of us who have been listening to or reading this thing for decades; we're conditioned to read between the lines. At all times. No longer can a story simply be a story. It has to have some sort of profound meaning. I'd probably read a lot more if I could just read it as a story. And if I hadn't heard most of the stories since birth. Yet, despite all that, I still love what I read ... between the lines ...

a backpack or bookends

Sometimes we make decisions. Other times, decisions are made for us.

I've been fired.

Ha. I'm laughing. This is great. Okay, so I haven't really been fired. I've been 'released'. Freed. As my boss put it, he's throwing me into the pool. He's letting me go. The print industry is slow these days and I'm too expensive to keep as the sole employee of a small business -- the same business I considered purchasing on my return to Ontario. So, I did what every rational person would do in such a situation: I called up my other boss at the group home and told him I'm quitting. No more night shifts at the group home. And no more day shifts at the print shop. As of March 16, I'll be unemployed. And as of April 1 I'll be homeless, as my parents are also forcing freedom on me. They're not heartless and cruel. They just want their life back. I don't blame them. Ha. Nothing surprises me these days.

I have a tendency to take some things in stride. It's a tendency that drives my mother crazy. But I can't help it. It's who I am. So, now I am faced with a question: a backpack or bookends? It's been brewing in me for a while to just pack all my stuff into a backpack and take off for unknown destinations. What holds me back is the other desire: to find a home, a wife, and a bookshelf on which to hold all my books. To settle, or not to settle?. That is the question.

pain.

I think if we were given a reason for why there is pain and suffering in our world, we would use it as an excuse to not care for those who are experiencing it. Now we're left with the option to care. Because there's no reason for it.

The other day, an email was waiting in my inbox. It was from a youth who is working through an age-old question of faith: Why does God allow suffering in our world? Her question wasn't raised through class discussion, a youth group Bible study, or through a sermon she may have listened to. It was not philisophical in nature. It was not even blatantly theological. In fact, that wasn't really her question. Her questions were raised through her experiences in life: Why is a friend, who has been through so much crap and who doesn't have a strong relationship with God suddenly being dealt another rotten situation? Why is my life so easy in comparison? And what do I do?

Whew.

I could have responded with one of many Christian clichés about sin and the fall of man, but I think answers like that are designed to give us an excuse to carry on with our lives with our backs turned. Especially here in North America. I know I've used that as an excuse, and I continue to do so. She's probably heard all the clichés anyway -- after all, she did grow up in the church. What I've discovered in my few and brief experiences of talking to, listening to and being around those who suffer, is that I become the better for it. But I don't think that others are meant to suffer for my sake. For my growth. There's a balance that needs to be found. Though I'm not sure I've found it yet. I remember an episode that took place in Uganda last summer; something that I wrote about, but never posted here. It's the story (and thoughts) of Xavier:

We were brought to one of five campuses of the Kampala Pentecostal Church (KPC). In some ways it was like walking into a North American church. In others, it was a brand new experience. We sang the same worship songs, with the added bonus of a 50-something voice choir and 2,500 strong congregation. Following a message on loving our neighbours, we walked back out onto the streets of Kampala, right past a man sitting on the corner of the parking lot. He sat with his wheelchair, crutches, and a pan. As usual, questions, concern, and a bit of frustration weighed down my thoughts...all compounded by the fact that this man was sitting right outside a church where those walking past had just listened to a sermon on loving their neighbour. Looking back towards him, and then looking towards the team I could tell that Simon had possibly similar thoughts running through his head.

"I can tell you're thinking," I said. "What about?"
"Same thing as you," he replied.

So, together, we walked over and sat with Xavier. Unfortunately, that was about the extent of our knowledge of Xavier as he was rather hard to understand. After our brief and disjointed conversation, Simon left some money in the pan and we walked back to our waiting van.

Much of the past few days has been spent trying to understand the desire to care that I feel when I meet the David's, the Justin's, the Xavier's. What is it about? There's a tension that happens between whether it is about them or about me. David still sleeps in the roundabout. Justin still walks several miles to his bed. Xavier will still sit at the corner of Buganda Road and the KPC parking lot. And I will return to my bed, my car, my job. I will return to a better life, as I understand 'better' to be. And I will leave David, Justin and Xavier behind.

Compassion is a fickle thing. Does God give a heart of compassion to change others, or to change the compassionate? Or is it both? Will David remember the white guy who gave no money, gave no food, took no pictures and asked questions? Will Justin? Xavier? Or are the stories I've heard, the poverty I've seen, the lives I've collided with in Uganda forever remain solely with me?

I still don't have the answers. Which in a way, is cool. Because I couldn't give any answers to the youth who was asking the questions. It's something she'll have to figure out as she discovers her own heart of compassion. All I could tell her is that all she could do -- and all she is called to do -- is walk alongside her friend. And it was in that reply that something profound struck a chord in my thoughts. That's really all Christ did. He didn't leave this world in perfect order. He didn't heal everybody. He had to leave behind the broken, the hurting, the lame, the deaf....

And he told us to walk with them in his place......

Many people use the excuse that there is too much pain and suffering in our world for there to be a God. God or not, pain and suffering will still exist. The choice remains ours.

two.

She's two years old now. Well, technically she's ten, but I've only really gotten to know her over the past two years. Happy Birthday, Swift! It's been a good year for her. She has continued to serve me faithfully, from daily commutes in the Lower Mainland of BC and a 4,000 km journey home for more daily commuting in Southern Ontario. This year has proved much less expensive than last year with my only expenses being oil changes, gas, insurance and two speeding tickets. But she's entering the terrible two's, and I'm worried she'll start acting up. I think she has bladder control issues....I noticed some yellow snow under her front end this morning. Oh, Swift.

purpose[fulness]

It's coming back. ha. It's all coming back to me now. My apologies to all non-Celine fans. Especially to those of you who now have the song stuck in your head; her voice torturing your inner ear. At any rate, the lyrics ring true.

Youth work has not really been something I've been involved in since returning to Ontario. ...Well...I have been. But I haven't been. Let me explain:

The week I got home, I was 'informed' that my church was in need of some leaders for the grade 9 boys. I say informed because the underlying intent in my informant's mind was to play the guilt-trip card that I so easily fall for. And I fell for it. Next thing I know, I'm spending my second weekend in Ontario with a group of youth on a retreat. And thus began the saga of this burnt-out-former-youth-director-struggling-to-find-his-way-in-life-grade-nine-boys-youth-leader. [Fortunately I had some affect on one other person to join me in this struggle (thanks James)]. While we have managed to put together some decent group material for our kids, I've realized that I am doing to these youth exactly what I feared I would do to the youth in BC: not care about them. It's a harsh realization. I simply put my time in, about 4 hours a month. Beyond that, I am not involved in the lives of these youth, something I know is the foundation of youth work. I just do what I have to do month after month. Because I suckered myself into it.

Which is a thought that will lead into the point of this post: purposefulness. I was asked a little while ago which of the jobs I have worked were the most enjoyable. Truth be told, there are aspects of every job that I have enjoyed. If I were to be honest, the job I currently have is a dream job for many: I sit behind a desk most of the day and am only required to do 'work' when a customer walks in the door. Upon further reflection of her question though, I have in a roundabout way asked myself a different, related question: which job have I felt the most purpose in? The answer to that is a lot less complicated. Youth Work. There has been purpose in every job I have done: whether it be carting around barrels of maple syrup, cutting flowers, delivering newspapers, or printing menus and business cards. But I have only truly felt purposeful in my work with youth. It's like the difference between breathing in fresh winter air and breathing the air in my car today after I stepped in some dog crap. Either way, I'm breathing air. Youth work just feels better deep down. [not that my other jobs have been crap...it's just an analogy that works for today because of stupid neighbour-lady's dog]

I can smell a hint of fresh air. It's coming. I'm not gonna rush it...it'll come when the time is right. First things first though: I gotta get Celine's voice out of my head...

--------

Purpose

I need to elaborate on what I mean by this word. I want to stay away from any reference to the word 'purpose' that might automatically put into the reader's mind two things: 1) The Purpose-Driven Life and 2) Rick Warren.

The 'purpose' I am referring to makes more sense when put it into the words of James as we discussed life over our regular $2.50 pasta meal last night. I wish we recorded the conversation (as we often say after such conversations), but here's the gyst of what he said and what makes sense to me as I type it out: it's like there's a sine wave of what you know you are capable of (gifted in) and what you are actually doing--and whether they line up or not. It was along those lines, and maybe something I'll elaborate on in a future post. Hope that makes sense.

Back to Post

Max.

there lives in grimsby a man by the name of Max. if you have lived in this town long enough, chances are good you have crossed his path. rarely will he cross yours, as most times it's you who walks by while he stands still on the street or sits on a chair in the local grocery store. long-time residents of this town affectionately (or not-so-affectionately) call him 'crazy Max'. it's not really that he's crazy, per se, but it is clear that he has some wires crossed. he used to live just up the street from us, so i would often walk past him while delivering newspapers in the neighbourhood. i remember how he would always comment on the weather.

'hi Max, how you doing?'
'oh, the weather is great today. just great. yup, the weather ... i say, the weather is great today.'
'it sure is, Max. have a great day!'
'well thank you. thank you. yes. thank you...yes...'

that's Max.

Max doesn't much talk about the weather anymore. it wasn't uncommon in the years before leaving the grim that i would see Max standing on the street corners in the very early hours of the morning. he didn't much talk about the weather then either. in fact, he didn't really talk at all. he yelled. and he would yell at no one and nothing in particular. Max picked up a very colourful language, too. i still remember the day i watched helplessly as some local teens swore at him while he stood in front of milk 'n things.

i've run into Max a few times since returning to the grim, most often as he sits just past the express check-out line of our local food basics. tonight he sat there drinking a one litre of chocolate milk. it seems he had a bad day today, though he wouldn't elaborate. he was just too tired to elaborate. maybe it was the weather. it hasn't been so great lately.