Ok, most of you who read this know about Dietrich Bonhoeffer who was the German pastor who radically opposed Hitler and compliant churches in WW2, right? Someone wrote a nice big biography about his life that will blow your socks off. Now, get this, I picked up the Shane Claiborne book The Irresistible Revolution, in which he quotes a Danish pastor who was preaching up a storm as the Nazi storm took over and he was killed by them in 1944. Here is a gripping clip of one of Kaj Monk's sermons that is as relevant today as ever was in the maelstrom of the 40's. Hold on to your seats, and take this ride to the streets:
"What is, therefore, our task today? Shall I answer; 'Faith, hope, and love'? That sounds beautiful. But I would say-courage! No, even that is not challenging enough to be the whole truth. Our task today is recklessness. For what we Christians lack is not psychology or literature...we lack a holy rage-the recklessness which comes from the knowledge of God and humanity.
The ability to rage when justice lies prostrate on the streets, and when the lie rages across the earth...a holy anger about the things that are wrong in the world. To rage against the ravaging of God's earth, and the destruction of God's world. To rage when little children die of hunger, when the tables of the rich are sagging with food. To rage at the senseless killing of so many, and against the madness of militaries. To rage at the lie that calls the threat of death and the strategy of destruction of peace. To rage against complacency. To restlessly seek that recklessness that will challenge and seek to change human history until it conforms to the norms of the Kingdom of God.
And remember the signs of the Christian church have been the Lion, the Lamb, the Dove, and the Fish.....but never the Chameleon."
Never the Chameleon. Word, bro.
Friday, May 6, 2016
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
Pumpkin Pie
This is a late nite post because I am bothered by a conversation I had with an old (like age wise, not that I've know him a long time) friend at a local cafe. Well, it was 90% him talking and a few "uh-huh's" from me for about 2 1/2 hrs. The patience ran thin at the end,but I know this guys heart and it so longs for change in a neighborhood that needs plenty of it. There was a story he told that come to the heart of what he is and was describing...and it means attitudes not just action.
Here's a guy who spent many years living in his car, and through a community program he was able to buy a house with low mortgage payments. With his gratitude and concern for the North End of Winnipeg, he's joined many neighborhood programs and has seen significant change for the better. He budgets (off pension, he's in his 80's I presume) 10 dollars a week for lunches and finds inexpensive places to find a muffin and coffee in the morning and a hot supper. He goes to two churches on Sunday and finds himself drawn to Christ and the Bible in a way he can't explain.
One Sunday a couple invited him to their house for supper. Very happy about that, he asked if he could bring something...they said, how about a pumpkin pie? and mentioned a local cafe to buy it at. He agreed and ordered it over the phone. As he went to pick it up, he pulled out his $10 (remember this is his week's lunch allowance!). He went to the counter and asked for his pie, it was ready and she rang it up for $20. Oh! he said, I guess it costed more then I thought (as he pulled out another $10 for his lunch money for week 2). He paid for the pie and as he was leaving the lady behind the counter said, can you bring back the pie plate? We need it make to use again. He thought, $20 for a pie and they want the pie plate back? Wow, this is turning out to be an expensive dinner invite!
They enjoyed the pie, and he politely told them they could keep the extra pie left over but would need to bring back the plate it came with! Needless to say, he wasn't too excited to go back to their place for another visit, or to buy anything at the cafe he was at. His vision continues to be that people, especially Christians would learn to listen and understand poverty and hard places and spaces. Some world views just don't take into account the hard work "the poor" go to to budget, skimp, give and deny themselves just to get by week to week. Few have the patience to really "listen" and "get it" when concerns like this come up, and find ways to continue relationship and purpose without alot of money or expectations. A cup of coffee, a small gift of money or even toliet paper or light bulbs....a ride to the store, or a walk to Timmies. These are thing much needed and appreciated but we learn them when we are listening, invited to share lives and stories....not bringing our own agenda into the mix.
So I am up late, thinking too hard about these things and the need for true engagement, love, understanding and less judgement and expectations. So lay down and sleep in peace, there is someone you will meet tomorrow that will reach into your life and ask you to attend to their soul, beware of the revolution it will bring into your world of safe assumptions and our shallow definition of love in action.
Here's a guy who spent many years living in his car, and through a community program he was able to buy a house with low mortgage payments. With his gratitude and concern for the North End of Winnipeg, he's joined many neighborhood programs and has seen significant change for the better. He budgets (off pension, he's in his 80's I presume) 10 dollars a week for lunches and finds inexpensive places to find a muffin and coffee in the morning and a hot supper. He goes to two churches on Sunday and finds himself drawn to Christ and the Bible in a way he can't explain.
One Sunday a couple invited him to their house for supper. Very happy about that, he asked if he could bring something...they said, how about a pumpkin pie? and mentioned a local cafe to buy it at. He agreed and ordered it over the phone. As he went to pick it up, he pulled out his $10 (remember this is his week's lunch allowance!). He went to the counter and asked for his pie, it was ready and she rang it up for $20. Oh! he said, I guess it costed more then I thought (as he pulled out another $10 for his lunch money for week 2). He paid for the pie and as he was leaving the lady behind the counter said, can you bring back the pie plate? We need it make to use again. He thought, $20 for a pie and they want the pie plate back? Wow, this is turning out to be an expensive dinner invite!
They enjoyed the pie, and he politely told them they could keep the extra pie left over but would need to bring back the plate it came with! Needless to say, he wasn't too excited to go back to their place for another visit, or to buy anything at the cafe he was at. His vision continues to be that people, especially Christians would learn to listen and understand poverty and hard places and spaces. Some world views just don't take into account the hard work "the poor" go to to budget, skimp, give and deny themselves just to get by week to week. Few have the patience to really "listen" and "get it" when concerns like this come up, and find ways to continue relationship and purpose without alot of money or expectations. A cup of coffee, a small gift of money or even toliet paper or light bulbs....a ride to the store, or a walk to Timmies. These are thing much needed and appreciated but we learn them when we are listening, invited to share lives and stories....not bringing our own agenda into the mix.
So I am up late, thinking too hard about these things and the need for true engagement, love, understanding and less judgement and expectations. So lay down and sleep in peace, there is someone you will meet tomorrow that will reach into your life and ask you to attend to their soul, beware of the revolution it will bring into your world of safe assumptions and our shallow definition of love in action.
Saturday, April 23, 2016
The Peace of Wild Things
Yesterday, as my friend and I drove his truck from Pinawa to Winnipeg, we marvelled at the construction going on just north of the perimeter. "Can you believe they have a car wash, all the way out here?", I exclaimed. "Well, seems like they are building new residences...." he said. "So a car wash comes first (no bus service out here, must be for car owners only), then what, a grocery store?". "I think they put in the SuperStore and Walmart next", he said. Can you imagine that, it's not a "grocery store" anymore, its the two biggest chains in Canada. I processed that for a few minutes, the spaces of land dug up and poured with concrete, and told him, "God creates earth, man creates Walmarts",
Since we both acknowledge the need for clothing and food at lower prices, being inner city folk....we analyzed the pro's and con's of Walmart, Superstore, Giant Tiger (no parking, people walk at least 5 city blocks to get there or take the bus), the new No Frills and the manager there (who says people leave frozen products around the store and he looses money), and then (as always) our hopes and dreams to eventually live on the land, grow food, hunt, share and take care of what God made....creation, His version of Walmart, and doesn't require credit cards.
The tension of living in the inner city and taking time to tend to our concrete exhausted souls in places that restore the soul (Whiteshell, lately Oak Hammock marsh in spring) is becoming more and more pronounced. This morning I woke up to a robin singing, crows, sparrows, squirrels...along with traffic down Sherbrook and the police helicopter blades whirring. I am so glad I didn't hear the fire engines roaring down Maryland to attend to the fire down past Portage at 3 am. Watching my compost decompose, my little garden plot unveiling itself and the chive plant starting to peek out is a taster for my land starved soul.
This morning, Earth Day (?) I have to decide....do I go to my workshop and prep the walls for painting in the smelly, basement room that is to be our work office or go to the neighborhood garbage clean up....both Kingdom things to do, renovating and improving a boarding house basement and taking care of the concrete places and urban grassland called boulevards. Decisions, decisions. And then I read "The Peace of Wild Things" by Wendall Berry, relating to every word and the line, "I come to the peace of the wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief".....if I don't clean the sidewalk it will look like I don't care about the environment, if I don't wash those grimy walls today, it will look like I don't care about smelly boarding house basements.
I know there is more to it then that, the tension eases when I think that whatever I do... the still water, the rest I look for is in front of me even here. Bird sounds, neighbors connecting, clean smell of a job well done, the burden lifts and I am allowed an Earth Day. And believe me, Walmart cannot compare to that.
Since we both acknowledge the need for clothing and food at lower prices, being inner city folk....we analyzed the pro's and con's of Walmart, Superstore, Giant Tiger (no parking, people walk at least 5 city blocks to get there or take the bus), the new No Frills and the manager there (who says people leave frozen products around the store and he looses money), and then (as always) our hopes and dreams to eventually live on the land, grow food, hunt, share and take care of what God made....creation, His version of Walmart, and doesn't require credit cards.
The tension of living in the inner city and taking time to tend to our concrete exhausted souls in places that restore the soul (Whiteshell, lately Oak Hammock marsh in spring) is becoming more and more pronounced. This morning I woke up to a robin singing, crows, sparrows, squirrels...along with traffic down Sherbrook and the police helicopter blades whirring. I am so glad I didn't hear the fire engines roaring down Maryland to attend to the fire down past Portage at 3 am. Watching my compost decompose, my little garden plot unveiling itself and the chive plant starting to peek out is a taster for my land starved soul.
This morning, Earth Day (?) I have to decide....do I go to my workshop and prep the walls for painting in the smelly, basement room that is to be our work office or go to the neighborhood garbage clean up....both Kingdom things to do, renovating and improving a boarding house basement and taking care of the concrete places and urban grassland called boulevards. Decisions, decisions. And then I read "The Peace of Wild Things" by Wendall Berry, relating to every word and the line, "I come to the peace of the wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief".....if I don't clean the sidewalk it will look like I don't care about the environment, if I don't wash those grimy walls today, it will look like I don't care about smelly boarding house basements.
I know there is more to it then that, the tension eases when I think that whatever I do... the still water, the rest I look for is in front of me even here. Bird sounds, neighbors connecting, clean smell of a job well done, the burden lifts and I am allowed an Earth Day. And believe me, Walmart cannot compare to that.
Monday, May 25, 2015
A Felon and a Mom
I was watching Dr. Phil yesterday whose topic was the single mom who left her 2 kids in the car while she went to a much needed job interview.....I was realizing that everyone was judging her by an "assumed" set of standards that astonished me. They explained that when the police took her "mug shot" (displayed on the show) that her face was a river of tears. She spent 11 days in prison and then faced innumerable fines and charges for lawyers, court bills, etc. One woman who had her heart stirred by the picture and the story, started an online fundraising campaign and raised over $100,000.00. As this mom was completely overwhelmed by others generosity, she started to secure her and her children's life with rent, paying off debt and bills and clothing. People said they started to see her wear "designer clothing", buying an x-box system for the kids, funding her brother's rapping cd...and started complaining, which got into the media. Horror of horrors, she refused to put away $60,000.00 in a fund for the kids for college that would clear her name with the law and with society. Now she was on Dr. Phil.
It was disappointing to see Dr. Phil and others deride her for the choice she made in spending the donations that were raised by this compassionate woman, to survive the courts and onslaught of bills because of it. My thoughts went to how alot of people view the poor; that they are moochers, cannot use their money wisely, will always need a case worker to make it through and "if you don't put away for your kids college or university degree", you are shamed and debased. I feel she must have gone away from that show more harmed then helped, judged and "jailed" by public opinon and false standards. Jesus so astonishingly declares a better way....(read Sermon on the Mount).
Nearing the end of the show, Dr. Phil said, "why didn't you do it, at least to clear your name, now you are a felon! ". She lifted her head and looked straight at his face as she said, "Felons can get jobs and raise their kids too you know!" She's right, many people who have records do and can find jobs and lovingly raise their families...it's harder and messy, but possible. It's society job to adjust their attitudes and standards, welcome the broken into their midst to help and nurture, not judge and decry and control.
It was disappointing to see Dr. Phil and others deride her for the choice she made in spending the donations that were raised by this compassionate woman, to survive the courts and onslaught of bills because of it. My thoughts went to how alot of people view the poor; that they are moochers, cannot use their money wisely, will always need a case worker to make it through and "if you don't put away for your kids college or university degree", you are shamed and debased. I feel she must have gone away from that show more harmed then helped, judged and "jailed" by public opinon and false standards. Jesus so astonishingly declares a better way....(read Sermon on the Mount).
Nearing the end of the show, Dr. Phil said, "why didn't you do it, at least to clear your name, now you are a felon! ". She lifted her head and looked straight at his face as she said, "Felons can get jobs and raise their kids too you know!" She's right, many people who have records do and can find jobs and lovingly raise their families...it's harder and messy, but possible. It's society job to adjust their attitudes and standards, welcome the broken into their midst to help and nurture, not judge and decry and control.
Saturday, April 4, 2015
Easter Eve
"It's over now
And we are lost
In a desert without tears
Guess it wasn't what we thought
Wish we could turn back the years
but there's no way out of here
There's no way out of here
There's no way out of here
It's over now
So say good-bye
But our mouths can't shape the words
Shut your doors
Don't even try
'cause no matter what you've heard
There's no way out of here
Come back
Please come back
Wake up
Please wake up
'cause there is no way out of here"
sung by Steve Bell and Larry Campbell on Good Friday service, St. Benedict's Table
It was the last song of the hour long story telling service, we heard about Peter, John, and Mary...their struggles to comprehend what was happening to Jesus, the healer, the Messiah. With the kind of week I had, I was struggling too, I didn't think I could bear one more story of heart ache and injustice. The last song was mournful, and expressed exactly what I felt....there is no way out of the death and emptiness in my soul and now I have to sit with this for the weekend, until Sunday....I really want to feel more hopeful with the story of the Resurrection. What ever happens tomorrow, I realize that work/school/issues and conflict will still exist on Monday. Lord, grant my soul resurrection in all things good, that I can continue to live, work and speak out your Kingdom in all the days I have left.
come back, please come back.
And we are lost
In a desert without tears
Guess it wasn't what we thought
Wish we could turn back the years
but there's no way out of here
There's no way out of here
There's no way out of here
It's over now
So say good-bye
But our mouths can't shape the words
Shut your doors
Don't even try
'cause no matter what you've heard
There's no way out of here
Come back
Please come back
Wake up
Please wake up
'cause there is no way out of here"
sung by Steve Bell and Larry Campbell on Good Friday service, St. Benedict's Table
It was the last song of the hour long story telling service, we heard about Peter, John, and Mary...their struggles to comprehend what was happening to Jesus, the healer, the Messiah. With the kind of week I had, I was struggling too, I didn't think I could bear one more story of heart ache and injustice. The last song was mournful, and expressed exactly what I felt....there is no way out of the death and emptiness in my soul and now I have to sit with this for the weekend, until Sunday....I really want to feel more hopeful with the story of the Resurrection. What ever happens tomorrow, I realize that work/school/issues and conflict will still exist on Monday. Lord, grant my soul resurrection in all things good, that I can continue to live, work and speak out your Kingdom in all the days I have left.
come back, please come back.
Monday, March 30, 2015
Monday Musings on Land, Bison, and Christianity
This Sunday night, my friend and "soul-sister" and aboriginal elder Melody McKeller told us some of her story, of being separated at birth from her twin sister (whom the doctor said was mentally retarded but she wasn't), being fostered out to a loving white family and her journey towards reconciling to both her birth family and the land and culture of her ancestors. She said that right now, with a herd of bison and over a hundred acres of land of forest, pasture and seeded field, they are working out a dream of theirs to honor the Creator with restoration. Restoration of the field from chemicals, restoring the bison to the land, and plants, medicinal and natural. She said it's not easy, especially in winter"do we put up drywall in our fixer upper house or feed the bison"? In order to get crop insurance, they need to spread chemical. But they won't, so if its a bad crop (for bison feed), they suck it up (her words not mine!).
Now for most of us, we don't care about all that...well maybe we'll use ecologically ok toliet cleaner, but to go the distance for a planet in crisis? Um, nope....that would mean too much, in fact, it's eccentric! I'll watch the shows of families going "off grid" and see their sad faces in the rain, trying for the hundreth time to roll that log up the hill that they will use for their cabin in the woods. But I'll stay within my comfortable 4 walls with Internet, plumbing, electricity and SuperStore....thanks!
So why do I feel her story, message, life striving for the best for the planet (and people...she works at Selkirk Mental Hospital) is urgent and important? She is not a striving, bitter person, she is open about her weaknesses and dilemmas. She prays, gives, goes into the hard places with a light she barely knows herself that she radiates. I work and live with broken people, that live on land that is pressed by concrete, buildings and thousands of cars and trucks. This land of Winnipeg is broken too. Garbage, dirt, salt, gravel...manicured lawns and flowers, gardens...pull out trees to replace it with other trees and shrubs of our liking. Create hills, parks, where we want them, pollute the river and wonder how to clean it. This was treaty land, a long time ago. Cared for, hunted on, for hundreds of years.
So my musings are trying to connect with this reality. Doesn't Christ want peace both for the human soul and for the land we live and work on? Won't this all be restored one day, both soul, body and earth? Is this important? The Kingdom coming now is Christ's vision to restore all to rightness...not us getting to heaven plunking on harps and chatting to Uncle Bob who made it there too, but earth and heaven, all this creation coming to fullness and peace. No more broken people, no more broken land and extinct animals, fish, birds.
This is why I think this lady needs to challenge more of us duped "Western-gotta-make-money-and-look-out-for-number-one" thinkers. Or Christians that think "Just get 'em saved!" Land doesn't equal money, bison doesn't equal thousands of dollars of meat on the hoof for the specialty restaurants. Our air needs to be clean, rivers flowing free of what we throw into it. Christians especially need to realize the urgency to engage personally in all these issues, hands on, up front. What are we going to do to make things right, running along beside the Creator in his hopeful and all encompassing loving vision of restoration?
Now for most of us, we don't care about all that...well maybe we'll use ecologically ok toliet cleaner, but to go the distance for a planet in crisis? Um, nope....that would mean too much, in fact, it's eccentric! I'll watch the shows of families going "off grid" and see their sad faces in the rain, trying for the hundreth time to roll that log up the hill that they will use for their cabin in the woods. But I'll stay within my comfortable 4 walls with Internet, plumbing, electricity and SuperStore....thanks!
So why do I feel her story, message, life striving for the best for the planet (and people...she works at Selkirk Mental Hospital) is urgent and important? She is not a striving, bitter person, she is open about her weaknesses and dilemmas. She prays, gives, goes into the hard places with a light she barely knows herself that she radiates. I work and live with broken people, that live on land that is pressed by concrete, buildings and thousands of cars and trucks. This land of Winnipeg is broken too. Garbage, dirt, salt, gravel...manicured lawns and flowers, gardens...pull out trees to replace it with other trees and shrubs of our liking. Create hills, parks, where we want them, pollute the river and wonder how to clean it. This was treaty land, a long time ago. Cared for, hunted on, for hundreds of years.
So my musings are trying to connect with this reality. Doesn't Christ want peace both for the human soul and for the land we live and work on? Won't this all be restored one day, both soul, body and earth? Is this important? The Kingdom coming now is Christ's vision to restore all to rightness...not us getting to heaven plunking on harps and chatting to Uncle Bob who made it there too, but earth and heaven, all this creation coming to fullness and peace. No more broken people, no more broken land and extinct animals, fish, birds.
This is why I think this lady needs to challenge more of us duped "Western-gotta-make-money-and-look-out-for-number-one" thinkers. Or Christians that think "Just get 'em saved!" Land doesn't equal money, bison doesn't equal thousands of dollars of meat on the hoof for the specialty restaurants. Our air needs to be clean, rivers flowing free of what we throw into it. Christians especially need to realize the urgency to engage personally in all these issues, hands on, up front. What are we going to do to make things right, running along beside the Creator in his hopeful and all encompassing loving vision of restoration?
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Clarence and Wall-Bashing
I can't believe its a third day of writing in my blog, last year I only wrote two entry's...what is it about this week? After re-reading my recent blog called "Unless a Seed Dies", at the last couple of sentences, my mind began to whirl, remembering yesterday afternoon. My office is in an small inner city church building, the tenants that know me, know where I am most days and if they want to chat or have a problem, they know where to come. As Housing Resource Coordinator for 3 project areas, there are alot of suites/tenants that need help with bed bug issues, arrears, hoarding or just trying to understand "the system" and its many requirements and loads of paperwork to stay housed.
I was at the table with a young man on the verge of eviction because he didn't know he had to get in forms for a subsidy for his rent, his late charge were growing. He came in excited because his E.I. budget letter came in...step one...we have about 6 more steps to go. I.D., Heatlth Card, tax info., wow....all that needed to get accomplished. Here's a guy who spends 70% of his time in bed, 20% finding and doing mild drugs, and 10% playing video games. Who knows when he eats, goes to the bathroom, or actually goes outside? Yipes. Anyways, we are talking baby steps here.
So I'm getting up, to Google the MB Health number for Stan and then in walks a guy who looks familiar. Teen Challenge? Woody's House? Couldn't place him, but he has a hungry,desperate look and bee-lines for the pastors office. Ok, I thought, I'll let the pastor take care of it. I went about my business, while eyeing Stan, hoping he wasn't going to leave from the boring process of paperwork and the other eye on the new guy, waving papers around and explaining something to the pastor. What is it about paper work?? I hate it too, so much red tape to get people some help and then wait, wait, wait, while debt grows, emotional havoc is played out and hope dies.
Stan is taken care of, and he leaves, the pastor comes over with the new guy and says, maybe you can help him? I nod, (like I know what I'm doing, but I don't) and it suddenly dawns on me that this guy was slated for evicition, claiming that he paid his $1600 rent bill but actually didn't. His name is Clarence, I remembered him peeking out of his door way many months ago, eyes dark, to take the envelope I was handing him...a demand for payment or eviction. We didn't talk, but he looked trapped, alone and hunted. Now he was here, waving papers for a court date that my company set up to justify eviction, and asking if we had any food. He was so hungry on so many levels. I looked up, seemed like the pastor disappeared..."Thank GOD!", he was probably thinking. What a wild coincidence that he came in now, not knowing this was my office...he wanted and needed help. The main thing he wanted is food, I searched the church cupboards and they were bare. I assured him that I knew where he lived, that I'd drop off something later for him...his medicated eyes stared at me for a moment, and he held out his huge hand and said thank you. What does a disciple do, I wondered, sit that "Greek" down and say wait here (show whose boss), consult with pastor, phone a food bank, (protocol) and love bomb that guy with another paper with a phone number of somewhere he could go to tomorrow to have a soup and sandwich..."now don't get in trouble!"
I'm saying this because I've done that before, many pastors and well meaning Christians do this all the time, if they happen to be in that space with a truely hungry, medicated, inner city type person. Clarence left with a promise that I'd be by later with something. Remembering the seed dying part of the Scripture, I later hefted a back pack of Zoodles, instant noodles, smokies, soup and carrots..grabbed my house keys and dog and went into the wierd cold rainy weather of Winnipeg. Yuck, just go, you promised. He doesn't live far, I rang his door bell and he came down in his sweats and hairy chest and a half smile...I handed him the soup, he said thanks and made to go up stairs...wait, there's more! Feeling like Santa, I kept handing him bags and cans and packages...what a blast! For one moment and for many more after, I felt like I had bashed through the barrier. That wall that we love bomb over and hope that somebody is helped, or feels like coming to church because of it. I bashed through, and stepped out into the muddy, rainy evening as if nothing happened. And as if Everything had happened
I was at the table with a young man on the verge of eviction because he didn't know he had to get in forms for a subsidy for his rent, his late charge were growing. He came in excited because his E.I. budget letter came in...step one...we have about 6 more steps to go. I.D., Heatlth Card, tax info., wow....all that needed to get accomplished. Here's a guy who spends 70% of his time in bed, 20% finding and doing mild drugs, and 10% playing video games. Who knows when he eats, goes to the bathroom, or actually goes outside? Yipes. Anyways, we are talking baby steps here.
So I'm getting up, to Google the MB Health number for Stan and then in walks a guy who looks familiar. Teen Challenge? Woody's House? Couldn't place him, but he has a hungry,desperate look and bee-lines for the pastors office. Ok, I thought, I'll let the pastor take care of it. I went about my business, while eyeing Stan, hoping he wasn't going to leave from the boring process of paperwork and the other eye on the new guy, waving papers around and explaining something to the pastor. What is it about paper work?? I hate it too, so much red tape to get people some help and then wait, wait, wait, while debt grows, emotional havoc is played out and hope dies.
Stan is taken care of, and he leaves, the pastor comes over with the new guy and says, maybe you can help him? I nod, (like I know what I'm doing, but I don't) and it suddenly dawns on me that this guy was slated for evicition, claiming that he paid his $1600 rent bill but actually didn't. His name is Clarence, I remembered him peeking out of his door way many months ago, eyes dark, to take the envelope I was handing him...a demand for payment or eviction. We didn't talk, but he looked trapped, alone and hunted. Now he was here, waving papers for a court date that my company set up to justify eviction, and asking if we had any food. He was so hungry on so many levels. I looked up, seemed like the pastor disappeared..."Thank GOD!", he was probably thinking. What a wild coincidence that he came in now, not knowing this was my office...he wanted and needed help. The main thing he wanted is food, I searched the church cupboards and they were bare. I assured him that I knew where he lived, that I'd drop off something later for him...his medicated eyes stared at me for a moment, and he held out his huge hand and said thank you. What does a disciple do, I wondered, sit that "Greek" down and say wait here (show whose boss), consult with pastor, phone a food bank, (protocol) and love bomb that guy with another paper with a phone number of somewhere he could go to tomorrow to have a soup and sandwich..."now don't get in trouble!"
I'm saying this because I've done that before, many pastors and well meaning Christians do this all the time, if they happen to be in that space with a truely hungry, medicated, inner city type person. Clarence left with a promise that I'd be by later with something. Remembering the seed dying part of the Scripture, I later hefted a back pack of Zoodles, instant noodles, smokies, soup and carrots..grabbed my house keys and dog and went into the wierd cold rainy weather of Winnipeg. Yuck, just go, you promised. He doesn't live far, I rang his door bell and he came down in his sweats and hairy chest and a half smile...I handed him the soup, he said thanks and made to go up stairs...wait, there's more! Feeling like Santa, I kept handing him bags and cans and packages...what a blast! For one moment and for many more after, I felt like I had bashed through the barrier. That wall that we love bomb over and hope that somebody is helped, or feels like coming to church because of it. I bashed through, and stepped out into the muddy, rainy evening as if nothing happened. And as if Everything had happened
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Oscar Nails It
tOscar Romero wrote,
“It helps, now and then, to step back and take the long view. The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts: it is beyond our vision. We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is the Lord’s work. Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us. No sermon says all that should be said. No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession brings perfection. No pastoral visit brings wholeness. No program accomplishes the Church’s mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything. That is what we are about. We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted knowing they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that affects far beyond our capabilities. We cannot do everything and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very, very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest. We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the Master Builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future that is not our own.”
Today, this is my focus, to do the little things well and the hard things trust that He will give me faith that its all part of the big picture. I am so glad Oscar decided to do the the little things well, and entrusted the rest to our faithful Creator....in his death, much hope and life was unleashed.
“It helps, now and then, to step back and take the long view. The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts: it is beyond our vision. We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is the Lord’s work. Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us. No sermon says all that should be said. No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession brings perfection. No pastoral visit brings wholeness. No program accomplishes the Church’s mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything. That is what we are about. We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted knowing they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that affects far beyond our capabilities. We cannot do everything and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very, very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest. We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the Master Builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future that is not our own.”
Today, this is my focus, to do the little things well and the hard things trust that He will give me faith that its all part of the big picture. I am so glad Oscar decided to do the the little things well, and entrusted the rest to our faithful Creator....in his death, much hope and life was unleashed.
Monday, March 23, 2015
Unless a Seed Dies....
I scanned the selection of potluck foods on the table. Some of this curry stuff, some egg salad, a bun with jam on it and two scoops of good look'n chili. I poured some lemonade into a pink plastic cup (that changes to purple with cold liquid in it) and went to sit down next to a few people chatting around a table. Conversations were filling the room, smiles, laughter, nods and smacking lips. The Little Flowers gathering was in full swing this Sunday night.
When we were done eating, we sang a few songs and prayed for each other. Our reading from John 12 was looked at. Gentiles coming to meet with Jesus but Andrew and Philip checking with Jesus. He says something kind of weird, like if a kernel of wheat falls to the ground it dies, it remains a single seed, but if it dies, it produces many seeds. Why would he bring this up, when the point is that there is some "outsiders" wanting to talk to him. Why didn't the disciples just bring them over to Jesus, was there protocol? Maybe there was red tape to seeing the big guy, not just anyone who waltzed over could think he could talk to the Master any ol' time. Andrew and Philp were just doing their duty, right? Make those Greek boys wait over there, maybe we'll let 'em wait for awhile just to let them know whose boss.
So Jesus talks about being glorified, seeds and losing your life to save it. Nothing to do with Greeks, right? But at the end, he says "where I am, my servants are...my Father will honor the one who serves me". The Jews at the time were sure that the Messiah would usher in the new kingdom of God, save them from the boots of the oppressors (aka "outsiders") and put them on the throne to rule all the other kingdoms. The despised to delivered to being in charge, in three easy steps. What is this of dying and seeds and serving? Maybe the Greeks were there to offer their services to Jesus, or wanted to hang out with the man who seemed to be doing some real cool stuff...they wanted in on it too.
Somehow their visit was the catalyst for a conversation that drew in the whole crowd, and even a voice from heaven! This whole topic to me, last night, opened up an understanding. In some kind of spiritual superiority we often tell those who want to come close to Jesus to just chill, wait over there...we'll let you know when its ok to come disturb him. Those who think they know what is going on, are brought up short by what Jesus says...I have come to die and be glorified, you guys don't have the whole picture! People from nations are going to come to serve and die and be glorified with me. Open the gates, men, the welcome extends to all....and in our context that means anyone who wants to meet with Him can and no one should put obstacles in the way to prevent it. Not doctrine, judgement, policies, a type of prayer or program.
What we have done in the name of Jesus is exclude the outsider, and throw love bombs and ethics and morality pamphlets over the wall and when one does actually surrender we welcome them to come be part of the club, and maybe even meet Jesus the club leader, if they are good enough. That is how a lot of evangelism methods are conceived, what is the best love bomb and how can we hook them into what we've got? Jesus would say to this scene, "excuse me", (pushing away the gospel tract cannons and eager 'Love Our City for Jesus' t-shirts)," let's take you, Andy and see if you would go down with me to Langside, to knock on that rooming house door and see how Bill is doing. On the brink of going to jail, girlfriend dumped him and skin itchy from bed bug bites. Hey, let's stop at Timmy's for a double, double for him...I know he'd like that."
Including Bill in grace is glorifying Jesus, but how many disciples are up for that? Or including the young gay evangelical that is torn by his love for Jesus and rejection from the church? Or the alcoholic who plays worship songs and hymns for his buddies but is not allowed to lift up the One he loves at the next door Gospel Hall? I know these are concepts that may cause concern for many who read it. But you know the point? Let those who want to serve me, be with me.....and if a few of those come together in love for the God-man, they will learn and grow and serve and forgive and change.....who knows where it could go? Jesus-ward, I bet. Unless a seed dies.....
When we were done eating, we sang a few songs and prayed for each other. Our reading from John 12 was looked at. Gentiles coming to meet with Jesus but Andrew and Philip checking with Jesus. He says something kind of weird, like if a kernel of wheat falls to the ground it dies, it remains a single seed, but if it dies, it produces many seeds. Why would he bring this up, when the point is that there is some "outsiders" wanting to talk to him. Why didn't the disciples just bring them over to Jesus, was there protocol? Maybe there was red tape to seeing the big guy, not just anyone who waltzed over could think he could talk to the Master any ol' time. Andrew and Philp were just doing their duty, right? Make those Greek boys wait over there, maybe we'll let 'em wait for awhile just to let them know whose boss.
So Jesus talks about being glorified, seeds and losing your life to save it. Nothing to do with Greeks, right? But at the end, he says "where I am, my servants are...my Father will honor the one who serves me". The Jews at the time were sure that the Messiah would usher in the new kingdom of God, save them from the boots of the oppressors (aka "outsiders") and put them on the throne to rule all the other kingdoms. The despised to delivered to being in charge, in three easy steps. What is this of dying and seeds and serving? Maybe the Greeks were there to offer their services to Jesus, or wanted to hang out with the man who seemed to be doing some real cool stuff...they wanted in on it too.
Somehow their visit was the catalyst for a conversation that drew in the whole crowd, and even a voice from heaven! This whole topic to me, last night, opened up an understanding. In some kind of spiritual superiority we often tell those who want to come close to Jesus to just chill, wait over there...we'll let you know when its ok to come disturb him. Those who think they know what is going on, are brought up short by what Jesus says...I have come to die and be glorified, you guys don't have the whole picture! People from nations are going to come to serve and die and be glorified with me. Open the gates, men, the welcome extends to all....and in our context that means anyone who wants to meet with Him can and no one should put obstacles in the way to prevent it. Not doctrine, judgement, policies, a type of prayer or program.
What we have done in the name of Jesus is exclude the outsider, and throw love bombs and ethics and morality pamphlets over the wall and when one does actually surrender we welcome them to come be part of the club, and maybe even meet Jesus the club leader, if they are good enough. That is how a lot of evangelism methods are conceived, what is the best love bomb and how can we hook them into what we've got? Jesus would say to this scene, "excuse me", (pushing away the gospel tract cannons and eager 'Love Our City for Jesus' t-shirts)," let's take you, Andy and see if you would go down with me to Langside, to knock on that rooming house door and see how Bill is doing. On the brink of going to jail, girlfriend dumped him and skin itchy from bed bug bites. Hey, let's stop at Timmy's for a double, double for him...I know he'd like that."
Including Bill in grace is glorifying Jesus, but how many disciples are up for that? Or including the young gay evangelical that is torn by his love for Jesus and rejection from the church? Or the alcoholic who plays worship songs and hymns for his buddies but is not allowed to lift up the One he loves at the next door Gospel Hall? I know these are concepts that may cause concern for many who read it. But you know the point? Let those who want to serve me, be with me.....and if a few of those come together in love for the God-man, they will learn and grow and serve and forgive and change.....who knows where it could go? Jesus-ward, I bet. Unless a seed dies.....
Sunday, January 18, 2015
In Bed With Bruce
This morning (and many mornings since Christmas) I've been snuggling up to Bruce. Warm and inviting, he is not shy with sharing his life with me, stories of his past, struggles, joys and cries of injustice. He is intimate, but holds back just enough that I want to know more, and feel deeply as he does for those he loves and to those who have lost greatly. If you're wondering if I've changed partners lately, no, Steve and I are still deeply involved as husband and wife and snuggle regularly to prove it. I'm talking about Bruce Cockburn's new memoir, "Rumours of Glory" which I received as a Christmas gift from Steve. It seems to have come at a crucial time, as I have been struggling with a spiritual "rummage sale" for about a year now, what goes? What stays? What is my bottom line in life? Questions of addictions, grace, ugliness, waste, violence, loneliness...in me and in my friends, and those I work with. Early morning panic, as I head out the door for another round of bed bug work, hoarding issues and those behind on rent and those who are about to get the boot for fighting another tenant. Will it be alright today, will I be alright? Can I take one more day of questions, with no answers? It eats away at me, at my faith, at all I have believed since I was a little church girl.
Opening the pages of his final chapters this morning, I can see that he has taken all this experience, angst, travel and poetry put into music and summarized a life that feels a little bit like mine. More mystery then answers, more finding light to faze out the darkness, the healing of holding a loving hand then letting the acid of shaking hands with the devil eat our skin away....he says:
"People who maintain a relationship with the Divine - no matter the religion or sect or specified belief system- will bear a special burden. It's the burden of healing that is needed after our poor stewardship of this blessed earth and of each other. Between the dogmatism of fear based fundamentalism and the Battlestar Galactica new-aginess of Hollywood, down there in the cracks, there is room, there is a necessity, for the sharing of real, personal and experiential knowledge of God-of love. That is our mission should we choose to accept it: to get that experience, to be fueled by that love, and to go forth and share whatever insights and inspiration we may have gained, while simultaneously supporting our communities and families in all ways feasible. We don't need to worry about making converts. If we go out there shining with the light of God and brimming with love, it will be noticed. A door will be opened for the spirit to walk through."
There is room, there is a necessity....down there in the cracks. I am still mucking about in the cracks, my cry for relief and healing for the deep pain I discover there, hopefully is making it up to the Divine. I know one thing, it is changing me down to the core, and I wait in the darkness for the answer of love to trickle into my deep place and onto our dry and dusty planet.
Opening the pages of his final chapters this morning, I can see that he has taken all this experience, angst, travel and poetry put into music and summarized a life that feels a little bit like mine. More mystery then answers, more finding light to faze out the darkness, the healing of holding a loving hand then letting the acid of shaking hands with the devil eat our skin away....he says:
"People who maintain a relationship with the Divine - no matter the religion or sect or specified belief system- will bear a special burden. It's the burden of healing that is needed after our poor stewardship of this blessed earth and of each other. Between the dogmatism of fear based fundamentalism and the Battlestar Galactica new-aginess of Hollywood, down there in the cracks, there is room, there is a necessity, for the sharing of real, personal and experiential knowledge of God-of love. That is our mission should we choose to accept it: to get that experience, to be fueled by that love, and to go forth and share whatever insights and inspiration we may have gained, while simultaneously supporting our communities and families in all ways feasible. We don't need to worry about making converts. If we go out there shining with the light of God and brimming with love, it will be noticed. A door will be opened for the spirit to walk through."
There is room, there is a necessity....down there in the cracks. I am still mucking about in the cracks, my cry for relief and healing for the deep pain I discover there, hopefully is making it up to the Divine. I know one thing, it is changing me down to the core, and I wait in the darkness for the answer of love to trickle into my deep place and onto our dry and dusty planet.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Princess
I watched the cars line up in front of my neighbor friend's house....2 police cars, 3-4 shiny civilian cars with ladies driving them and also watched as they got out and went inside. And when they all filed out. I wasn't sure if I should get involved but the catch in my heart beat meant that they were there to "apprehend" her children. All 6 of them. I wrestled with talking to the lady standing by her car, but wanted them (CFS) to know that "that lady" had a friend that cared to know what was going on. So I went up to her..."Hi, I'm a friend of the woman that lives in the place you just went into, is everything alright?" She looked at me and smiled but said in an incredulous voice, "That place there?" and she pointed to the house. "Yes, I know her and her kids and wondered if everything was ok." She gave me a look of wonder (like who would ever be THAT ladies friend?) and said, "Oh we are looking for her grand-child". Ok, like Marge has 2 grandbabies and one on the way, not living in her house, something doesn't fit here....and what about all the cars?
I let that slide and went home and phoned Marge. She was out driving 5 kids around and didn't know the bustling entourage in front of her house was there. After she came home, she asked me to stick around while her native CFS worker came by, to explain what was going on. As I sat on the step with her 8 year old daughter Natasha and her new kitten Princess, I wondered if I'd be seeing her kids gathered up in the next few days and taken to various homes or hotels. Her house had slowly become a pit, with letting in the wrong crowd of kids hang out there, her landlady doesn't care to do repairs and cockroaches, bed bugs and mice were entrenching themselves in walls, cupboards and the basement. We have helped her many times, but because of the neglect and overwhelming circumstances, CFS had been called to investigate.
Natasha's kitty was becoming anxious to explore and she held on to it tightly. "Do you think they will take us away today?" Natasha asked me. "No, it doesn't look like it will be today", I wondered how I would handle this awful subject. "Well, if they do..." she looked at me with clear, beautiful brown eyes, "what will happen to Princess?" "I don't know, she might wonder around and get lost." I said. Letting the conversation unfold, she said, "Oh, I don't want Princess to get lost". "How about if when you have to leave, you bring her to me and I'll care for her till you get back", I said. She looked at me with a smile, "Ok! I'll pick her up when we get back."
The conversation inside with the CFS worker was ending and the man stepped outside on the porch. As I got up to get out of the way, Natasha shoved Princess into my arms and looked sternly at me. I held the kitty as Marge, the CFS worker and I chatted a bit and he left. No kids in tow, not the day of reckoning that we all thought. I gave Princess back to Natasha and said, "I'll bring you some kitty food. It looks like that's it for the day and I have to make my boys some supper." She bundled the little kitten back in her arms and we looked at each other, like sharing a secret but not a very happy one.
Going home, it took me awhile to detox from that little episode. Praying, thinking, wondering how it will all go for these kids and their mom, trying to keep things together. Her confidence in me was reassuring, that she does have someone in this crazy scene that will take care of what is hers, while she faces the unknown.
I now throw what is mine, into the lap of the One I've trusted and know He is faithful till the end for both Natasha and me.
I let that slide and went home and phoned Marge. She was out driving 5 kids around and didn't know the bustling entourage in front of her house was there. After she came home, she asked me to stick around while her native CFS worker came by, to explain what was going on. As I sat on the step with her 8 year old daughter Natasha and her new kitten Princess, I wondered if I'd be seeing her kids gathered up in the next few days and taken to various homes or hotels. Her house had slowly become a pit, with letting in the wrong crowd of kids hang out there, her landlady doesn't care to do repairs and cockroaches, bed bugs and mice were entrenching themselves in walls, cupboards and the basement. We have helped her many times, but because of the neglect and overwhelming circumstances, CFS had been called to investigate.
Natasha's kitty was becoming anxious to explore and she held on to it tightly. "Do you think they will take us away today?" Natasha asked me. "No, it doesn't look like it will be today", I wondered how I would handle this awful subject. "Well, if they do..." she looked at me with clear, beautiful brown eyes, "what will happen to Princess?" "I don't know, she might wonder around and get lost." I said. Letting the conversation unfold, she said, "Oh, I don't want Princess to get lost". "How about if when you have to leave, you bring her to me and I'll care for her till you get back", I said. She looked at me with a smile, "Ok! I'll pick her up when we get back."
The conversation inside with the CFS worker was ending and the man stepped outside on the porch. As I got up to get out of the way, Natasha shoved Princess into my arms and looked sternly at me. I held the kitty as Marge, the CFS worker and I chatted a bit and he left. No kids in tow, not the day of reckoning that we all thought. I gave Princess back to Natasha and said, "I'll bring you some kitty food. It looks like that's it for the day and I have to make my boys some supper." She bundled the little kitten back in her arms and we looked at each other, like sharing a secret but not a very happy one.
Going home, it took me awhile to detox from that little episode. Praying, thinking, wondering how it will all go for these kids and their mom, trying to keep things together. Her confidence in me was reassuring, that she does have someone in this crazy scene that will take care of what is hers, while she faces the unknown.
I now throw what is mine, into the lap of the One I've trusted and know He is faithful till the end for both Natasha and me.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Bannock and Wine
"Aw"!! The computer screen indicated a serious game going on, his character blasting away at the others on the screen..."why do we need to go over there? It's only going to be the three of us, nobody is going to come in this rain anyway!" The screen lit up with an explosion, and he was back in the game. My son didn't hear my explanation as the headphones were back in place and his fingers dittoing rapidly on the keyboard. I thought my answer was a good one, even if there is three of us, we have decided to give that time up to pray, study and have communion as a sign of what Jesus has done, is doing and will do, in us and in the neighborhood. **sigh**
My prayer was that Woody's Worship today would be another indication that Jesus refused to give up the neighborhood, as was his lonely lady disciple (aka: me). Steve was out of town, my good buddy wasn't answering his phone, the kids were "occupied" and it was raining. So on went the 'too big' galoshes (really they were huge rubber boots), my rain jacket and debit card to go to Safeway to buy the grape juice for communion and to photo copy the song pages. I felt so martyred for my faith, a little like Stephen in Acts 6 and 7 that I was going to preach about in an hour. I was being harangued and mocked by my son, pelted by rain drops like stones and made to walk a whole block, like Christ heading to the cross.
It didn't even get better at our worship hour. Everyone actually showed up (HA! In your face son!) but in between the preaching and the communion, I forgot the tune of the "great song" I was going to teach and had to read it instead, plus sit in between my 16 and 17 year old because the of the quiet rucus going on with their flip flops. Can you hear another **sigh** of martyrdom?
Is this what it is to bring Jesus into a struggling neighborhood? Why do I have to struggle too? At least let me remember the song tune!! At least inject my child with the wonder of inner-city ministry and smilingly turn to me and say "right on mom! Let's go worship Jesus and declare his Kingdom in this god-forsaken drug den street!!" Just writing that makes me wonder what got into me to even think that it would be easy and others would be patting me on the back with encouragement. I don't think I have a clue what real martyrdom is, let alone spell it. The real guy Stephen, who was stoned, could tell us what it means....and he'd probably say it just takes a heart filled with the wonder of His Spirit, hands that spread wide to the widows and the orphans and a mouth that will not stop talking of his justice and peace, the failure of legalism and glory of seeing Jesus sitting at the right hand of His Father. A surrender to what He wants, when He wants it and love dripping out all over the place.
In this little space of time and neighborhood, I am inspired and humbled by this story. We eat the bannock and drink the wine, because we are broken, needy and crying out for his forgiveness and peace, for his presence and power. Disciples not giving up in seeing the Kingdom come.
My prayer was that Woody's Worship today would be another indication that Jesus refused to give up the neighborhood, as was his lonely lady disciple (aka: me). Steve was out of town, my good buddy wasn't answering his phone, the kids were "occupied" and it was raining. So on went the 'too big' galoshes (really they were huge rubber boots), my rain jacket and debit card to go to Safeway to buy the grape juice for communion and to photo copy the song pages. I felt so martyred for my faith, a little like Stephen in Acts 6 and 7 that I was going to preach about in an hour. I was being harangued and mocked by my son, pelted by rain drops like stones and made to walk a whole block, like Christ heading to the cross.
It didn't even get better at our worship hour. Everyone actually showed up (HA! In your face son!) but in between the preaching and the communion, I forgot the tune of the "great song" I was going to teach and had to read it instead, plus sit in between my 16 and 17 year old because the of the quiet rucus going on with their flip flops. Can you hear another **sigh** of martyrdom?
Is this what it is to bring Jesus into a struggling neighborhood? Why do I have to struggle too? At least let me remember the song tune!! At least inject my child with the wonder of inner-city ministry and smilingly turn to me and say "right on mom! Let's go worship Jesus and declare his Kingdom in this god-forsaken drug den street!!" Just writing that makes me wonder what got into me to even think that it would be easy and others would be patting me on the back with encouragement. I don't think I have a clue what real martyrdom is, let alone spell it. The real guy Stephen, who was stoned, could tell us what it means....and he'd probably say it just takes a heart filled with the wonder of His Spirit, hands that spread wide to the widows and the orphans and a mouth that will not stop talking of his justice and peace, the failure of legalism and glory of seeing Jesus sitting at the right hand of His Father. A surrender to what He wants, when He wants it and love dripping out all over the place.
In this little space of time and neighborhood, I am inspired and humbled by this story. We eat the bannock and drink the wine, because we are broken, needy and crying out for his forgiveness and peace, for his presence and power. Disciples not giving up in seeing the Kingdom come.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Get On the Bus!
I love kids...especially when I finally join them in their age appropriate wave length and we connect. Eyes light up, imagination runs rampant, and we become co-conspirators in a huge game that only we two, or three or four...know. Last night was like this. It was in the middle of Steve's talk of a verse in Isaiah to our potluck group, about 8 neighbors who ate spaghetti together, carried around Marge's baby and chatted about our favorite topics. Well, lately, the 3-4 little ones (ages 3-5) have been hungry for action (and noisy!)...slamming doors, each other and "washing" dishes...and each other. Somehow I got this brain wave to get the 4 kid chairs in a line and play bus. "Get on board!" I said to them, not too loud so Steve's audience could focus on what he was saying. Instantly I had three customers, sitting in the chairs behind me. They looked at me expectantly. "How about McDonald's?" I asked them. Sure, they were game and off we rode. I must have been pretty animated, 2 neighbors watched me with grins and I wondered how I looked bumping around and pressing the "gas pedal" now and then, letting kids off. Hadn't thought of the adult factor!
For nearly half an hour we played, then they wanted to be the bus driver, then they put the baby in his carrying seat in front and laughed as they imagined him driving! I have not had the pleasure of "play" in its purest form, for a long time. I have actually been in a serious, troubled state...angry at filthy rooms and suites, at poverty mindsets, at uncaring society especially in a season of plenty. When good times and feelings roll, where you buy and don't count the cost...whether from duty or love, where vacations are gone on and those who can't vacate, stay and struggle in loneliness and often painful circumstances. I am heavy, I am guilty and limited. I am human...I want a vacation! I don't have all the answers! If I have to change one more bed bug trap, or consider one more tenant we have to evict because of it, I think I'll die! There are too many tensions, limits, agonizing decisions, people that need care. And yet, I think I hear His voice calling through it all. Last night it was a child's voice, "go sit down on the chair, I want to drive you to McDonald's". I had to laugh, McDonald's? When all the world is going to pot (lately literally, the smell is all over the place!), this 3 year old wants to drive me to McDonald's? What a wonder and a delight...I notice the baby is smiling so broadly, I can't help but be caught up in their "in the moment" delight. And she keeps driving, and the baby keeps smiling, and I lay down my cares for the rest of the evening and join in.
I just read a small story called "Sharon's Christmas Prayer" by John Shea, in the book "The Holy Longing" (Ronald Rolheiser). This is what I'm talking about;
For nearly half an hour we played, then they wanted to be the bus driver, then they put the baby in his carrying seat in front and laughed as they imagined him driving! I have not had the pleasure of "play" in its purest form, for a long time. I have actually been in a serious, troubled state...angry at filthy rooms and suites, at poverty mindsets, at uncaring society especially in a season of plenty. When good times and feelings roll, where you buy and don't count the cost...whether from duty or love, where vacations are gone on and those who can't vacate, stay and struggle in loneliness and often painful circumstances. I am heavy, I am guilty and limited. I am human...I want a vacation! I don't have all the answers! If I have to change one more bed bug trap, or consider one more tenant we have to evict because of it, I think I'll die! There are too many tensions, limits, agonizing decisions, people that need care. And yet, I think I hear His voice calling through it all. Last night it was a child's voice, "go sit down on the chair, I want to drive you to McDonald's". I had to laugh, McDonald's? When all the world is going to pot (lately literally, the smell is all over the place!), this 3 year old wants to drive me to McDonald's? What a wonder and a delight...I notice the baby is smiling so broadly, I can't help but be caught up in their "in the moment" delight. And she keeps driving, and the baby keeps smiling, and I lay down my cares for the rest of the evening and join in.
I just read a small story called "Sharon's Christmas Prayer" by John Shea, in the book "The Holy Longing" (Ronald Rolheiser). This is what I'm talking about;
She was five,
sure of the facts,
and recited them
with slow solemnity
convinced every word
was revelation.
She said
they were so poor
they had only peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
to eat
and they went a long way from home
without getting lost. The lady rode
a donkey, the man walked, and the baby
was inside the lady.
They had to stay in a stable
with an ox and an ass (hee, hee)
but the Three Rich Men found them
because a star lited the roof
Shepherds came and you could
pet the sheep but not feed them.
Then the baby was borned.
And do you know who he was?
Her quarter eyes inflated
to silver dollars.
The baby was God.
And she jumped in the air
whirled round, dove into the sofa
and buried her head under the cushion
which is the only proper response
to the Good News of the Incarnation.
Monday, November 25, 2013
West End Ghetto
"Oh, I didn't want to live in the West End ghetto. I'd really like to get a place across Portage....." mused the lady on the other end of the telephone line. I didn't relate to her the rising anger bubbling in my chest, but tried to sound pleasant, "well, we do have quite the community here." Disappointed with this prospective tenant, I hung up the phone a little p.o.'ed. She had agreed to meet with us, as she had wanted a transfer out of her apartment somewhere in Winnipeg to somewhere a little quieter. We have an open suite, but I started having second thoughts. Would I want this type of attitude simmering next door? I thought of Hilda from last week, who is toughing it out at Siloam Mission and would love a chance to have an apartment like ours.
The West End Ghetto. I forget that a lot of people in our city have this view of my (our) neighborhood. I've lived my whole married life here, raised my kids here and cannot say enough about the incredible opportunities for community here. I even recommend people to move into our apartments! We had a tenant/New Life workday the other weekend and 15 people came to scrub baseboards, clean weeds and garbage and generally chat it up for 3 hours. It was a blast. We have tenants like Larry, Diane, Annabella, and Chanda (with 2 young ones in tow) that will pitch in for the benefit of all their block. That's something, that creates community, dignity, 'we care about our place and our neighbors' kind of feel.. If this is a ghetto, I like it, I wish more neighborhoods were like it.
So, if you ever are looking for an apartment in Winnipeg, I'd recommend "The Ruth" here on Maryland, or our other fine block. If you look elsewhere, you may get a nice looking, quiet place, neighbors that leave you alone but mind that you may miss out on community, neighbors that care, a neat church next door and a purpose behind it all.
The West End Ghetto. I forget that a lot of people in our city have this view of my (our) neighborhood. I've lived my whole married life here, raised my kids here and cannot say enough about the incredible opportunities for community here. I even recommend people to move into our apartments! We had a tenant/New Life workday the other weekend and 15 people came to scrub baseboards, clean weeds and garbage and generally chat it up for 3 hours. It was a blast. We have tenants like Larry, Diane, Annabella, and Chanda (with 2 young ones in tow) that will pitch in for the benefit of all their block. That's something, that creates community, dignity, 'we care about our place and our neighbors' kind of feel.. If this is a ghetto, I like it, I wish more neighborhoods were like it.
So, if you ever are looking for an apartment in Winnipeg, I'd recommend "The Ruth" here on Maryland, or our other fine block. If you look elsewhere, you may get a nice looking, quiet place, neighbors that leave you alone but mind that you may miss out on community, neighbors that care, a neat church next door and a purpose behind it all.
Monday, November 18, 2013
Hilda
I needed silence today. I had opened myself to many groups, conversations and senarios since Friday and it is Monday, and I longed to have a half hour of sweet silence, no one around, to think, to just let my brain be unconnected to my heart for awhile. Going to our empty church building on Maryland, I found just that. I lit my "Christ-candle", meditated on the Psalm I've put up on my office wall behind it and chilled.
After a couple of hours, I was packing up my things to leave. Outside on the steps a "bag lady" was coming up to our door. 2 plastic bags and a steel pull cart with things packed in it. She opened the door (darn, I thought it was locked!) and looked in and around till she saw me. Can't kick her out now, I thought....what a bad thought! Out loud I said, "Can I help you?". That began an hour and a half dialogue.
Her name is Hilda. She has long, white hair, clear eyes and a cute smile. She told me she was a tenant of Manitoba Housing for 15 years until she was evicted for being behind on her rent. Apparently, she had paid rent diligently but on the wrong day, for a long time without being notified that it was actually working against her....I wasn't sure what that all meant, but she has lost her apartment, furniture, and perhaps her job and has gone to Siloam mission to stay nights. Her mind works like a lawyers' detailed and specific (on many other inner city issues that we covered), and wants to address this and other injustices, but needs stable housing and to continue her job. I told her to apply to our management company and we'll look into her circumstances and need. For some reason, I believed her (I've heard other stories of bad management) and hope she gets in our buildings. Others may write her off, or question her story....I can't yet, until proven guilty.
I was talking about this with a friend later today, and he laughed...."something doesn't add up here", he said, "I'm not saying she's not telling the truth but there are always two sides to the story. People down here usually have 2 or 3 lives, and show the one they want, to get what they want." I gave him that, we've seen it before, but that first meeting, it's almost like you want to give them a chance, to believe them and help them up, help them out. If she applies, she'll meet 2 other New Lifers and we'll chat and decide together to accept her into our buildings, of course there is a process. I told my friend that. "Yah, you're right." And then I reminded him of a guy he believed in, named him a friend and helped out with rides, groceries, meeting our church people and community. Wayne had an impediment when my friend met him, he couldn't speak well and just barely got across what he needed (food). So they went to Safeway, they went for burgers and was given a ride home using our van. Wayne showed up for church that Sunday, saying he was getting an operation on his tongue to be able to free it up to speak better (alot of pointing and gesturing and sounds). We prayed for him and waited to hear how it went. Well, with a smile on his face the next Sunday, he spoke well, we could understand him! His surgery was Tuesday, he was with a speech therapist till Friday, and wow, a modern day miracle!! He left that day, and we haven't seen him since. It clicked for a number of people...really, to have that type of surgery and therapy in a week? Go figure.
So do we go the distance, or don't we? I feel there is a thrill, a crazy curiosity that happens in the journey with people. It doesn't matter if they say they are Christians or not, disability, welfare, or low income workers, their background....it is an initial, "Oh, yah? Let's hear your story" over a cup of coffee, or standing in a hallway, or outside on a snowy sidewalk. That's how it starts, if they stay long enough, they will hear my story, or one of my friend's. Who knows where it will go, but we're in it for the ride. Jesus, I think, did that too, never shut people out, or analyzed them to death after with his disciples. That's giving them a chance, and giving their humanity some dignity. It's almost like calling them out, will you trust us? Will you one day reveal yourself and not be afraid of being hurt or abused or taken advantage of? Some would rather not and play the system, others hear the call and step forward....prayer, courage, trust. I hope Hilda will be one of those that hear that call.
After a couple of hours, I was packing up my things to leave. Outside on the steps a "bag lady" was coming up to our door. 2 plastic bags and a steel pull cart with things packed in it. She opened the door (darn, I thought it was locked!) and looked in and around till she saw me. Can't kick her out now, I thought....what a bad thought! Out loud I said, "Can I help you?". That began an hour and a half dialogue.
Her name is Hilda. She has long, white hair, clear eyes and a cute smile. She told me she was a tenant of Manitoba Housing for 15 years until she was evicted for being behind on her rent. Apparently, she had paid rent diligently but on the wrong day, for a long time without being notified that it was actually working against her....I wasn't sure what that all meant, but she has lost her apartment, furniture, and perhaps her job and has gone to Siloam mission to stay nights. Her mind works like a lawyers' detailed and specific (on many other inner city issues that we covered), and wants to address this and other injustices, but needs stable housing and to continue her job. I told her to apply to our management company and we'll look into her circumstances and need. For some reason, I believed her (I've heard other stories of bad management) and hope she gets in our buildings. Others may write her off, or question her story....I can't yet, until proven guilty.
I was talking about this with a friend later today, and he laughed...."something doesn't add up here", he said, "I'm not saying she's not telling the truth but there are always two sides to the story. People down here usually have 2 or 3 lives, and show the one they want, to get what they want." I gave him that, we've seen it before, but that first meeting, it's almost like you want to give them a chance, to believe them and help them up, help them out. If she applies, she'll meet 2 other New Lifers and we'll chat and decide together to accept her into our buildings, of course there is a process. I told my friend that. "Yah, you're right." And then I reminded him of a guy he believed in, named him a friend and helped out with rides, groceries, meeting our church people and community. Wayne had an impediment when my friend met him, he couldn't speak well and just barely got across what he needed (food). So they went to Safeway, they went for burgers and was given a ride home using our van. Wayne showed up for church that Sunday, saying he was getting an operation on his tongue to be able to free it up to speak better (alot of pointing and gesturing and sounds). We prayed for him and waited to hear how it went. Well, with a smile on his face the next Sunday, he spoke well, we could understand him! His surgery was Tuesday, he was with a speech therapist till Friday, and wow, a modern day miracle!! He left that day, and we haven't seen him since. It clicked for a number of people...really, to have that type of surgery and therapy in a week? Go figure.
So do we go the distance, or don't we? I feel there is a thrill, a crazy curiosity that happens in the journey with people. It doesn't matter if they say they are Christians or not, disability, welfare, or low income workers, their background....it is an initial, "Oh, yah? Let's hear your story" over a cup of coffee, or standing in a hallway, or outside on a snowy sidewalk. That's how it starts, if they stay long enough, they will hear my story, or one of my friend's. Who knows where it will go, but we're in it for the ride. Jesus, I think, did that too, never shut people out, or analyzed them to death after with his disciples. That's giving them a chance, and giving their humanity some dignity. It's almost like calling them out, will you trust us? Will you one day reveal yourself and not be afraid of being hurt or abused or taken advantage of? Some would rather not and play the system, others hear the call and step forward....prayer, courage, trust. I hope Hilda will be one of those that hear that call.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Yes and No
So I bet you're wondering, "How was the funeral?" as many have asked me already, after Friday.
How is any funeral? I've been to two of them the past 2 months...I could compare and contrast. One, welfare paid for the cremation and we saw an urn up at front, the second welfare paid for a full casket, it looked like a paper box from the dollar store with plastic handles on the sides, only bigger. Of course pictures for both, childhood to adult. But the one had no God-content, no singing, no higher hopes, no promise of a better day...the guy said at the end, "I guess we all aren't perfect!". He was refering to his brother who died of a heart attack, he drank to much and had a poor relationships with everybody. The other, the singing was defeaning! The memories potent and rich! We (the 100 there) laughed and cried, endured the cold wind at the cemetary and enjoyed chatting over great sandwiches and coffee. It was more of a celebration, see how God embodied her and touched others! The other, a bit empty, forlorn and sad.
I'm not saying one person was more important then the other. They both were on disability, had abusive backgrounds, tried to live somewhat happy and productive lives. What happened that one was surrounded by celebration, the other with emptiness and sadness? I'm not saying that one had Jesus and the other didn't, although, the stat's would say there tends to be a more hopeful life when one is Jesus-ward. They were both God's kids, and were invited into His redemptive Kingdom numerous times. One accepted it with joy, the other rejected it, I'm not sure why.
Lately, through my spiritual direction studies and just general musing, I've been wondering about the human heart and it's faith journey. If you'd see your life as a journey on a map, where were the cross-roads or the forks in the road? Why did you make certain decisions? To continue in a relationship or not, to have kids, or accept that job or take that trip? Where has it taken you, are you happy with the outcome? Or shocked and afraid and uncertain? When Christine said "yes" inside to committing to Albert (marriage) and a faith community like New Life, it started her on a road of maturity and spiritual growth like she hadn't known before. And she was thankful. And had support when she needed it. And we came together to celebrate her when she closed her eyes and went home. When Ralph said "no", his path to fill his cup spiralled into alcohol, women, lonliness, mistrust, despair. He was found in his rocking chair, a few days after he died. No one would've looked for him, unless he was due at a family wedding that weekend. He had burnt all his bridges, his anger and attitude drove people away. And yet some came to his funeral, not out of duty or love, but out of respect. He lived in their house, they would not hold his sins against him. I find that deeply moving.
Whatever my neighbors path in life, says Vanier;
"He calls me to give hope, first to the small and the weak, to those who are broken by life and by oppression. He calls me to share my bread with them, to shelter them, to loose the yoke of their sufferings and open them towards liberty and confidence. He calls me to live with them, to make known to them the love of the Father. He alls me to hold out my hand to the self-satisfied, the comfortable. He wants them in the Kingdom. It is not a question of attacking them, but of calling them."
Can we not take our neighbor a little more to heart, to deeper waters in prayer, concern and relationship? Can we be sensitive enough to offer hope in a cross-roads, or a pathway they seem to be in? It might make a difference between the "yes" and the "no". One life-giving, the other painful and life-draining. It matters, they matter.
How is any funeral? I've been to two of them the past 2 months...I could compare and contrast. One, welfare paid for the cremation and we saw an urn up at front, the second welfare paid for a full casket, it looked like a paper box from the dollar store with plastic handles on the sides, only bigger. Of course pictures for both, childhood to adult. But the one had no God-content, no singing, no higher hopes, no promise of a better day...the guy said at the end, "I guess we all aren't perfect!". He was refering to his brother who died of a heart attack, he drank to much and had a poor relationships with everybody. The other, the singing was defeaning! The memories potent and rich! We (the 100 there) laughed and cried, endured the cold wind at the cemetary and enjoyed chatting over great sandwiches and coffee. It was more of a celebration, see how God embodied her and touched others! The other, a bit empty, forlorn and sad.
I'm not saying one person was more important then the other. They both were on disability, had abusive backgrounds, tried to live somewhat happy and productive lives. What happened that one was surrounded by celebration, the other with emptiness and sadness? I'm not saying that one had Jesus and the other didn't, although, the stat's would say there tends to be a more hopeful life when one is Jesus-ward. They were both God's kids, and were invited into His redemptive Kingdom numerous times. One accepted it with joy, the other rejected it, I'm not sure why.
Lately, through my spiritual direction studies and just general musing, I've been wondering about the human heart and it's faith journey. If you'd see your life as a journey on a map, where were the cross-roads or the forks in the road? Why did you make certain decisions? To continue in a relationship or not, to have kids, or accept that job or take that trip? Where has it taken you, are you happy with the outcome? Or shocked and afraid and uncertain? When Christine said "yes" inside to committing to Albert (marriage) and a faith community like New Life, it started her on a road of maturity and spiritual growth like she hadn't known before. And she was thankful. And had support when she needed it. And we came together to celebrate her when she closed her eyes and went home. When Ralph said "no", his path to fill his cup spiralled into alcohol, women, lonliness, mistrust, despair. He was found in his rocking chair, a few days after he died. No one would've looked for him, unless he was due at a family wedding that weekend. He had burnt all his bridges, his anger and attitude drove people away. And yet some came to his funeral, not out of duty or love, but out of respect. He lived in their house, they would not hold his sins against him. I find that deeply moving.
Whatever my neighbors path in life, says Vanier;
"He calls me to give hope, first to the small and the weak, to those who are broken by life and by oppression. He calls me to share my bread with them, to shelter them, to loose the yoke of their sufferings and open them towards liberty and confidence. He calls me to live with them, to make known to them the love of the Father. He alls me to hold out my hand to the self-satisfied, the comfortable. He wants them in the Kingdom. It is not a question of attacking them, but of calling them."
Can we not take our neighbor a little more to heart, to deeper waters in prayer, concern and relationship? Can we be sensitive enough to offer hope in a cross-roads, or a pathway they seem to be in? It might make a difference between the "yes" and the "no". One life-giving, the other painful and life-draining. It matters, they matter.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
She Is Not My Enemy
Mid-week and being stretched thin means that I am lacking on the creative side. My friend's funeral continues to be planned, the moon-walk towards Friday puts a little edge on my nerves. The viewing, internment, the reception planned and organized, down to the color of the flowers. She would love this, if she were coming in on her own funeral, she'd be proud of those ironing their one and only suit, dress or "dress pants" to where that afternoon. She would smile at the pictures displayed, her childhood, her wedding (which I was reminded I was one of the four bridesmaids), coffee houses, holding her master angler fish, relaxing with her husband.
Not surprisingly, there isn't alot of photos after her health started to deteriorate. Hip problems, knees and calves and the loss of her job at McDonald's (where the staff loved and treasured her), because she couldn't stand for hours anymore. She learned to sit, to wait for help, to invite children to sit with her, her movement was slow and labored and finally almost too painful to continue going down the stairs of her apartment to a waiting vehicle or to go to church.
The saving fact of her life was knowing that she was loved, by her husband, her Christian community, by Christ. So many like her are forgotten, told they are unloved, useless, boring or a deteriment to family and society. A God-child, pushed aside because they are not educated in the right college (or any college), live in the right neighborhood, have read the latest books or gone to the block buster hit at Silver City.
After potluck one night, I was walking Cyclone around the block, getting some fresh air, thinking. As I walked through our neighborhood park, someone called out, "Hey! How are you doing?". I looked closer in the dark, and it was our young friend, her two children and boyfriend sitting on the park bench. "Hey! How are you?" She said, "Fine....actually not good, I just spent the last night in jail. I got into a fight, defending myself and stabbed someone." "Oh...what happened to the kids? Who took care of them?" I asked (here I try not to look and act all shocked...wasn't sure if this was the whole story!) "My boyfriend here". And she introduced him to me and told him I was the God-person of the neighborhood. I told her we are all God-people. She said, "then why isn't he listening to me?"
What a question! "Why isn't he listening to me?" I was all ready to give her a quick answer, but I knew it wasn't that easy. How about, "you don't knife people, God may listen to a non-violent person" but I know that isn't true. How about, "Go to church on Sunday, He will tell you through the preacher what to do". Nope, not helpful and not always true. I listened to her, I pray for her (she knows that) and God listens. Since I've decided to be next to her chatting away, Jesus is sitting beside her too, He talks her language, He lives in her neighborhood. He is not her enemy, he will be one day, her Everything.
Vanier says in another part of his section of his writing, "Two Worlds";
"The poor man is a danger to the rich man. The black man (or asian, native) is a danger to the white man enfolded in his pride and sense of superiority. The handicapped and the weak are a danger to the able-bodied. The person in need is a danger to the one who has the goods of this world. So too the rich man is the enemy of the poor man. Yet Jesus said, "Love your enemy". We must cross over to the other world and look at Him and touch Him.
But Jesus
I can't love my enemy
I must defend myself from him
He is a danger to me
his way of life throws mine
into question
So I attack
it's my defence
Or I ignore her
I refuse to listen or go near
Aggression rises
in me
Or I flee
I refuse to meet
the enemy
And yet
"Love your enemy, make peace"
Not surprisingly, there isn't alot of photos after her health started to deteriorate. Hip problems, knees and calves and the loss of her job at McDonald's (where the staff loved and treasured her), because she couldn't stand for hours anymore. She learned to sit, to wait for help, to invite children to sit with her, her movement was slow and labored and finally almost too painful to continue going down the stairs of her apartment to a waiting vehicle or to go to church.
The saving fact of her life was knowing that she was loved, by her husband, her Christian community, by Christ. So many like her are forgotten, told they are unloved, useless, boring or a deteriment to family and society. A God-child, pushed aside because they are not educated in the right college (or any college), live in the right neighborhood, have read the latest books or gone to the block buster hit at Silver City.
After potluck one night, I was walking Cyclone around the block, getting some fresh air, thinking. As I walked through our neighborhood park, someone called out, "Hey! How are you doing?". I looked closer in the dark, and it was our young friend, her two children and boyfriend sitting on the park bench. "Hey! How are you?" She said, "Fine....actually not good, I just spent the last night in jail. I got into a fight, defending myself and stabbed someone." "Oh...what happened to the kids? Who took care of them?" I asked (here I try not to look and act all shocked...wasn't sure if this was the whole story!) "My boyfriend here". And she introduced him to me and told him I was the God-person of the neighborhood. I told her we are all God-people. She said, "then why isn't he listening to me?"
What a question! "Why isn't he listening to me?" I was all ready to give her a quick answer, but I knew it wasn't that easy. How about, "you don't knife people, God may listen to a non-violent person" but I know that isn't true. How about, "Go to church on Sunday, He will tell you through the preacher what to do". Nope, not helpful and not always true. I listened to her, I pray for her (she knows that) and God listens. Since I've decided to be next to her chatting away, Jesus is sitting beside her too, He talks her language, He lives in her neighborhood. He is not her enemy, he will be one day, her Everything.
Vanier says in another part of his section of his writing, "Two Worlds";
"The poor man is a danger to the rich man. The black man (or asian, native) is a danger to the white man enfolded in his pride and sense of superiority. The handicapped and the weak are a danger to the able-bodied. The person in need is a danger to the one who has the goods of this world. So too the rich man is the enemy of the poor man. Yet Jesus said, "Love your enemy". We must cross over to the other world and look at Him and touch Him.
But Jesus
I can't love my enemy
I must defend myself from him
He is a danger to me
his way of life throws mine
into question
So I attack
it's my defence
Or I ignore her
I refuse to listen or go near
Aggression rises
in me
Or I flee
I refuse to meet
the enemy
And yet
"Love your enemy, make peace"
Sunday, November 3, 2013
For Christine
I walked to church this morning in a strange frame of mind. I was swirling with ideas, a kind of anger, that was trying to pinpoint the often lethargic or dismissive attitude we have towards to poor, the prisoner, the mentally ill, those who just can't hold a job and end up on welfare or disablity. A friend had been sharing that for him, he often has to choose between rent and food. Many of those in his boarding house have to make that choice too. Yet he is so generous, so kind to kids, he will spend his last tooney on a neighborhood kid to buy a Slurpee or a pair of suspenders at a thrift store to hold up the pants of a guy he knows who doesn't have a belt. Anyways, I wanted to challenge our church this morning, in sharing time, and read a portion of Jean Vanier's chapter called "Two Worlds" which I had in my bag along with me. I never got the chance.
Up ahead, there was an ambulance and fire truck in front of our low-income housing building (we own the two beside our little store front church). I have been working for New Life Ministries and in these buildings since April as pest control co-ordinator and tenant relations. "Which tenant was it that was in trouble?" I wondered. I ran in looking for the parametics and my heart sunk when I saw them in front of our friends place. My 2 church friends were in the hallway, they said Christine was in trouble....had fell, and stopped breathing. We prayed and I made my way inside their apartment. Albert (her husband) was in distress, Christine was surrounded by the medical team, I couldn't believe it. My Sunday morning church was turning into a crisis situation.. They tried to revive her, took her to the hospital where she died and we were left, after the sermon, stunned...Albert came back and stood grieving while a line-up of friends formed to give him hugs, share the tears and leave with pale shocked faces.
Christine will never be back to church, she will never hold another baby or brighten the eyes of our kids with her smile and questions. She will not have to go for her hip surgery, or worry about her weight, or sneak another cookie at potluck when Albert isn't looking. She won't have to dream about her crazy childhood, abuse as a young woman but she will hold her own child in her arms....the one that was still born so many years ago.
This couple has faced so much together, they decided to stick it out, to fish together, love their extended families, share the same things at sharing time at church and hold out a hand to those in the apartment block. She is not famous, and didn't know her Bible very well...but she knew love and how to dish it out.
What I was going to read this morning, expresses how I have changed by knowing Christine and the many Christines and Alberts in our neighborhood....read it slowly and see if you have room to change too:
"But if I get too near this woman
if I listen to her
if I begin to know the names of her children
her past
her life
If I identify with her
I can't go on eating as I used to
I can't accept the luxury and the waste
If I truly love
if I feel concerned
my life must change
My life must change
the life I have built for myself
must be destroyed
must be completely changed
the time I get up and go to bed
the friends I like to talk with
go out with
eat with in smart restaurants
the books I read
the money I have to spend
If I enter the world of touch
the world of tender compassion
the world of the prisoner, the handicapped, the hungry
my whole way of life in danger of falling apart
I am in danger of entering a world of insecurity
If I become truly open
open to the sufferings of others
my life will change
I will change
It's too much
I'm afraid.
Up ahead, there was an ambulance and fire truck in front of our low-income housing building (we own the two beside our little store front church). I have been working for New Life Ministries and in these buildings since April as pest control co-ordinator and tenant relations. "Which tenant was it that was in trouble?" I wondered. I ran in looking for the parametics and my heart sunk when I saw them in front of our friends place. My 2 church friends were in the hallway, they said Christine was in trouble....had fell, and stopped breathing. We prayed and I made my way inside their apartment. Albert (her husband) was in distress, Christine was surrounded by the medical team, I couldn't believe it. My Sunday morning church was turning into a crisis situation.. They tried to revive her, took her to the hospital where she died and we were left, after the sermon, stunned...Albert came back and stood grieving while a line-up of friends formed to give him hugs, share the tears and leave with pale shocked faces.
Christine will never be back to church, she will never hold another baby or brighten the eyes of our kids with her smile and questions. She will not have to go for her hip surgery, or worry about her weight, or sneak another cookie at potluck when Albert isn't looking. She won't have to dream about her crazy childhood, abuse as a young woman but she will hold her own child in her arms....the one that was still born so many years ago.
This couple has faced so much together, they decided to stick it out, to fish together, love their extended families, share the same things at sharing time at church and hold out a hand to those in the apartment block. She is not famous, and didn't know her Bible very well...but she knew love and how to dish it out.
What I was going to read this morning, expresses how I have changed by knowing Christine and the many Christines and Alberts in our neighborhood....read it slowly and see if you have room to change too:
"But if I get too near this woman
if I listen to her
if I begin to know the names of her children
her past
her life
If I identify with her
I can't go on eating as I used to
I can't accept the luxury and the waste
If I truly love
if I feel concerned
my life must change
My life must change
the life I have built for myself
must be destroyed
must be completely changed
the time I get up and go to bed
the friends I like to talk with
go out with
eat with in smart restaurants
the books I read
the money I have to spend
If I enter the world of touch
the world of tender compassion
the world of the prisoner, the handicapped, the hungry
my whole way of life in danger of falling apart
I am in danger of entering a world of insecurity
If I become truly open
open to the sufferings of others
my life will change
I will change
It's too much
I'm afraid.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Back Again
Have you ever gone back to see your blog postings after a year and a half away? I just did and had a very internal chuckle at the new format...that you can actually see how many views there have been every month. Couldn't see that before, but now you can! I have had zippo motivation to write in my blog for that long, yet people are reading it anyway...my "old" stuff that is. I'm a pretty good writer, I don't know why I don't pitch the time in except being crazy busy half the time, and the other half, reading with my cat sitting on my stomach/chest area, talking to my kids or husband or sleeping.
So I'm turning a new leaf, I enjoy writing to myself and for those hundreds of readers (or the few, which one of them is my mom whom I love). I need to refresh my outlook on living and breathing in the West End of Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada and the cool, refreshing, wierd stuff that happens here. And occasionally chuckle at the many people who read it.
So with new gusto and vigour, I'm back again.
So I'm turning a new leaf, I enjoy writing to myself and for those hundreds of readers (or the few, which one of them is my mom whom I love). I need to refresh my outlook on living and breathing in the West End of Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada and the cool, refreshing, wierd stuff that happens here. And occasionally chuckle at the many people who read it.
So with new gusto and vigour, I'm back again.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Watching You, Watching Me
You're the sun. You're the starlight. You're a wave upon the sea.
You're the glory of the sunrise as it sets the morning free.
You're my hope for the future.
It's your love that covers me and if I've my choice, I'll spend my life watching you watching me.
When you came I was weary and I thought you couldn't see but you saw right through my masquerade right to that secret place in me.
Then your love held me gently, whispering everything's alright. I was born again into your love, born again into your light.
Jesus, sometimes my mind grows cloudy and it's oh so hard to see that there's a life I'm meant to live for you. Sometimes I've lived for me.
When you came I was weary and I thought you couldn't see but you saw right through my masquerade right to that secret place in me.
Then your love held me gently, whispering everything's alright. I was born again into your love, born again into your light
Keith Green (early song...1970's?)
I've spent some of the morning looking for a song by Keith Green on YouTube, and ended up listening to a different song that remained unrecorded on any of his CD's (ok, albums back then). What gorgeous lyrics, and the passion of his life and message has overwhelmed me again. Oh to live in that passion and grace every moment. "It's your love that covers me and if I've my choice, I'll spend my life watching you, watching me".
So with that prayer in my mind, I stepped outside and several small happenings proceed to unfold. One, a Grade 6 young man comes to the door and he says the school is in lock down and could he please hang out at my place...sure! I say but a few minutes after he comes in, his brother and crying sister come down the street and they say they are headed to school. No lock down? I say. No, comes their puzzled reply. So out goes the young man and as he leaves he says, you know the car down there? It got smashed by a bunch of blacks last nite. Thanks! I say and go to investigate the car, whose windows (all) are punched in and in shards.
So off I go to phone the non-emergency line, picking up discarded pop cans on the way home. The line seems to be busy, our friend in righteous crime knocks on the door and we conspire about the removal of a dead tree that fell over in an elderly neighbors yard. Chainsaw? Wheel barrow? When? The complicated thing is she is a hoarder and procrastinator and she does not want it removed (along with other rotten and hidden items inside and outside her place) unless she says so. And she is avoiding the issue.
The neighbors will not avoid the issue and may call the city to clean up, which means a huge bill for her and instrusion on her space (imagine the scene...old granny attacks city worker, not good). I haven't called the non-emerg. line yet, or had breakfast, or finished an email to my mom and there are trees to chop, kids to urge to school and smashed windows in cars to look at. Then comes the moment, "It's your love that covers me and if I've my choice, I'll spend my life watching you, watching me." Your watching me, covering me, I'm yours!
Thank You.
You're the glory of the sunrise as it sets the morning free.
You're my hope for the future.
It's your love that covers me and if I've my choice, I'll spend my life watching you watching me.
When you came I was weary and I thought you couldn't see but you saw right through my masquerade right to that secret place in me.
Then your love held me gently, whispering everything's alright. I was born again into your love, born again into your light.
Jesus, sometimes my mind grows cloudy and it's oh so hard to see that there's a life I'm meant to live for you. Sometimes I've lived for me.
When you came I was weary and I thought you couldn't see but you saw right through my masquerade right to that secret place in me.
Then your love held me gently, whispering everything's alright. I was born again into your love, born again into your light
Keith Green (early song...1970's?)
I've spent some of the morning looking for a song by Keith Green on YouTube, and ended up listening to a different song that remained unrecorded on any of his CD's (ok, albums back then). What gorgeous lyrics, and the passion of his life and message has overwhelmed me again. Oh to live in that passion and grace every moment. "It's your love that covers me and if I've my choice, I'll spend my life watching you, watching me".
So off I go to phone the non-emergency line, picking up discarded pop cans on the way home. The line seems to be busy, our friend in righteous crime knocks on the door and we conspire about the removal of a dead tree that fell over in an elderly neighbors yard. Chainsaw? Wheel barrow? When? The complicated thing is she is a hoarder and procrastinator and she does not want it removed (along with other rotten and hidden items inside and outside her place) unless she says so. And she is avoiding the issue.
The neighbors will not avoid the issue and may call the city to clean up, which means a huge bill for her and instrusion on her space (imagine the scene...old granny attacks city worker, not good). I haven't called the non-emerg. line yet, or had breakfast, or finished an email to my mom and there are trees to chop, kids to urge to school and smashed windows in cars to look at. Then comes the moment, "It's your love that covers me and if I've my choice, I'll spend my life watching you, watching me." Your watching me, covering me, I'm yours!
Thank You.
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