the coptics. [pt. 2]

"The Egyptian Coptic Church" is a sequence of words that has never crossed my ears before. I had never heard of this denomination of the Christian faith, and was curious to find out more while a group of them lived in Nakina and served in Aroland. All I knew of this group beforehand was that their priest (or Father) had to wear his uniform at all times, and that they were going to have mass every morning. Based on such little information, I had already decided what the Egyptian Coptic Church is: another church bound to a series of man-made laws that overshadow the teachings of Christ. A harsh judgment, sure. But I, along with a number of other young adults have become jaded with the structured, institutionalized churches of our North American society. Turns out, the Coptic church far precedes even the discovery of North America. It also turns out that they are, in fact, Egyptian, and date their beliefs to the gospel writer and apostle, Mark.

The Coptic church claims to have stuck to the original traditions handed down from the apostle Mark to the present day. I experienced and learned a number of these traditions: the holy bread with it's thirteen stamped crosses, the reciting of the Lord's Prayer, the reciting of Psalms, facing east while in communal prayer, the saints and the status of Mary, the incense and the chanting of Scripture. While many post-Reformation denominations form and divide over such trivial matters as whether congregates can wear perfume in the sanctuary (true story), the Egyptian Coptic Church has remained unwavering in the issues that matter. In some ways, it has no choice. Any decisions passed down by the Pope are established and made into law -- no questions asked. While it does put a lot of power into human hands (though the Pope is accountable to its council), it almost leaves no room for the questions that we (those of us who feel we have a better understanding of truth simply through our attitudes towards our modern day North American churches ) have. . I'm still deciding whether that is a good thing or not.

If I were to look at my beliefs, they would look like a mishmash of post-Reformation churches: Christian Reformed, Pentecostal, and Mennonite. I was raised in the Christian Reformed Church, experienced much spiritual growth through the Pentecostal Church and was educated under the Mennonites -- all the while learning more about the nature of an infinite God. My experiences with the Coptics has, in a way, grounded me. I have begun to ask a different set of questions, even of the benefit of Martin Luther's Reformation. Though many of Luther's issues with the Roman Catholic Church of his day were valid, was it necessary to break off from a belief rich in history and tradition? Is that what he really hoped for? This only resulted in a hodge-podge of denominations, each claiming to know the answers to every question of faith. Many of our modern-day North American churches root their beliefs in a set of man-made doctrines. These doctrines were written down hundreds of years ago in response to the heretics of their day. In essence, they were "solid" answers to valid questions, and have since never been questioned in return. And so, the debate continues between child and adult baptism, predestination, the power of the Holy Spirit, the infallibility of the Bible, and all the other theological questions that various demoninations differ on. This brings me back to the only question that should really matter: what does it mean when Christ says to love God and love my neighbour in the world I find myself in?

the coptics. [pt. 1]

They came. And they went. This past week has been busier than any week so far in Aroland. A group of 28 young adults from Mississauga spent an entire week serving the community of Aroland. They are the Coptics. Twenty-eight people from an Egyptian Coptic Church, wanting to serve closer to home than their previous experiences in Africa and Mexico (though perhaps a flight to either country would take less time than a drive from Southern to Northern Ontario. Who doesn't love a road trip though?). It has been an interesting experience in two ways: 1) being on the flip-side of a mission trip and 2) a new understanding of a faith group I had never heard of before.

I have been on a number of mission trips before. Though I have only ever played the role of a leader on these trips (Mexico, Michigan, Ontario, California), there has always been a responsibility on my shoulders for the group I am serving with, as well as those we are serving. Never have I been the 'co-served', so-to-speak. Though the Coptics were directly serving the kids and the community of Aroland, they co-served those of us who have a longer-term, direct vested interest in the community. I have gotten to know quite a number of the youth in Aroland and, in a way, felt responsible for how they were treated and served by these young adults from Southern Ontario. At times, it has felt like I have been running a babysitting service in Aroland, and am simply maintaining control. This past week has shown me that I have been doing more than that...without even really realizing it. I wanted to protect them, and in recognizing that, I learned that I deeply care for the youth in Aroland.

Not that I had anything to worry about. The group worked amazingly with the kids. I observed many handshakes, many high-fives, and many high-energy games. I heard many positive and encouraging words spoken to the kids, and I read them on the backs of their signed t-shirts. And I listened to their questions about the validity of short-term mission trips. That question has been around for a long time. It is a question I have never fully had an answer to, mainly because I have only ever been the short-term missionary -- the one who sweeps in for a week, does some work, and leaves everything behind. The question is a valid one. How can short-term missionaries possibly be effective? Why is it so important to befriend a kid in Aroland, if I only plan on leaving that kid behind?

Yesterday, one of the teenagers told me of an encouraging word he received from one of the Coptics. In a way, it serves as an answer to the question of the effectiveness of short-term mission trips.

"Tamar told me I have potential," he said. "What's potential?"

This ninth grade young man learned something invaluable: That he has potential, something he had never heard of before. To have a group of 28 young adults pouring out their words of advice, wisdom and hope, has accomplished more in one week than one or two of us could have in a month. These kids need to be hearing what the Coptics had to offer -- even if it is just one word that sticks in their minds for years to come, providing constant encouragement and hope. From what I observed in this past week, there are at least 28 youth in Aroland with a word like that. Thanks, guys. ...read Part Two

the driving range.

Today we went to the driving range. The nearest golf course is an hour away from Aroland, which really isn't that bad. The kids are often wandering Aroland with their golf clubs, whacking their balls into the forests.. They are actually really good golf players, but their knowledge of how a driving range work is limited, as I was soon to discover. We got to the range around 6pm, and retrieved our buckets from the pro shop. Now, i have been to a number of driving ranges in the past, and usually one of two things happen: either we are given a bucket full of balls, or there is a ball dispenser that fills our buckets for us. Neither option was available to us at the pro shop. We were simply given our buckets and told that the driving range was across the street. So, the six of us walked over to the driving range, empty buckets in hand. I kind of assumed we would find a dispenser at the range itself, but that wasn't the case either. All we saw was a giant open field with distance markers, golf balls and broken tees scattered about. Odd, I thought. And then I watched. Even odder, thought I. For, as I stood there, I watched three of the boys, buckets in hand, walk out into the open field and proceed to pick up golf ball after golf ball. it was like an easter egg hunt set to the easiest level.

"This is how it's done," said one of the boys. "We have to collect our own balls."

It simply didn't seem right.

And so, while they continued on their golf ball hunt, I trekked back to the pro shop, hoping to get some answers for this peculiarity. Maybe things were really done different up north. Still, come on. There was something fishy going on. The minute I walked into the pro shop, the girl behind the counter smiled and looked at me. She said one word that confirmed my suspicions: "Balls?"

"Yup," I replied. She pointed, and, lo-and-behold, over in the corner was a large tub of balls, ready to be shoveled into the buckets for the driving range. A couple of minutes later, I left the pro shop with 6 pre-filled buckets, a golf cart to deliver them with, and a great story...

dogs.

Dogs abound in Aroland. Many of them are ragged, rough and large. Often you will come across a few of them hanging out together, waiting for a lone dog to come across their path. I have seen several dog fights in Aroland, and have rescued one or two along the way. One dog, Trigger, seems to remember the day I kicked his attackers off of him and brought him in the Shack to lick his wounds while I dripped some hand sanitizer in an open wound on his neck. Now when he sees me driving towards the Shack, he will often sprint along my car and meet me as I get out. It probably helps that I feed him some dog food. He was one that got away.

I attended a dog funeral yesterday. Cody and Brady, two brothers in Aroland, had a little dog called Sebastian. Cody found his body on the side of a back road the other day and threw some logs on it. Apparently Sebastian was a little promiscuous, and the other dogs got jealous. Promiscuity kills in the dog world. As he finished telling us about it yesterday, he asked if we wanted to go see. "Sure," we said. I really don't know why we decided to go check out a dog's carcass, but that's what we did. We brought a shovel along, too. Sebastian needed a proper funeral. There were a couple of interesting elements to this impromptu funeral. Brady, the younger brother, didn't want to see his dog in it's expired state. Cody explained that he might get angry at the dogs who killed him. Brady said he was afraid to look. It took a little coaxing to get him out of the car and, in his own way, say good-bye to his dog. "I'm gonna hit this golf ball," he said. He set down the golf ball that he had hit and retrieved several times over during the day, grabbed his driver and took a swing. The ball was gone. And so was his fear and anger, it seemed. His way worked.

Sebastian was kind of gently lowered into a fresh hole, dug by Cody. Somebody mentioned something about saying a prayer. It was a half-joking, half-serious comment, but nobody wanted to say it. So I simply prayed that God would take good care of Sebastian and that Brady and Cody could get another dog. "Yeah, a better dog," said Cody. And with that, we hopped in our car, and drove away.

elusive bears

The drive from Nakina to Aroland and back generally consists of two things: trees and potholes. Lately, I’ve been adding bears to the list of sights to see. Bears are elusive creatures. For weeks now, I have been trying to get a decent picture of one in particular. It usually seems to be wandering close to the road, just past the railway tracks close to Aroland. Yet, whenever it rests its beady little eyes on my Swift, it takes off into the forest and out of sight. Dang thing. The other day I was driving a few teens from Nakina to Aroland when we spotted her. Jumping into action, the two boys advised me to honk my horn and drive up to the bear in an effort to ‘tree’ it. It worked! The bear ran only a few feet into the woods and began its ascent into the closest tree it could find. It would have been a great opportunity for a picture, had the weather cooperated. It didn’t. It rained.

And the one thing that I thought I had going for me turns out to be my downfall. I had long hoped to slowly creep up to a bear in my car. Swift is fairly bear-shaped. It’s got a rather large rear end and a beautiful sharpened front that sits close to the ground. With the potholes constantly shaking and jostling my car, she even moves like a bear. Surely she’s the perfect disguise. Alas, the creeping thing has yet to pan out. I can only imagine it has to do with colour. Swift is green. The bear probably mistakes her for some sort of sea-sick relative and runs in the opposite direction. My only hope is to find someone with a black Swift. With a gray interior. And standard, as bunny hops might help in the disguise. Yeah, that’s a hint, James.

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 ...