25 Random things about Me

1. I play -- everything I do is informed from the same kind of relationship-building energy as childhood play. And it drives other people nuts. My wife loves it.
2. I come from a musical family, and I can't play or sing a note.
3. I worked for 3 years as a bouncer in various nightclubs to help pay for my undergrad; I found it very good crisis intervention experience.
4. at the same time I worked for Ecumenical Campus Ministry at the University of Lethbridge.
5. My best friend growing up was a border collie named Dolly.
6. My wife is the most interesting aspect of my life. She's wonderful.
7. we have two beautiful boys and plan on having a few more.
8. That's because we like having children; not out of a religious motivation. People who automatically assume a religious reason really drive me nuts.
9. I have, on occasion, threatened people with violence and offered to pray for them afterwards. It seems to work better than just threatening.
10. I have trouble accepting that I get paid for being a minister. I doesn't seem right sometimes.
11. I have an extremely high work ethic and very good time management skills; through my undergrad I worked between 40-60 hours a week, courted my wife, went to school full time AND still volunteered for my church (and still had free time)
12. Because of that, I have little patience for the 'I'm so tired/too busy' excuse. But I try to be understanding.
13. I'm a raging extrovert -- I love being around people and hearing their stories.
14. the downside of that is when I'm really tired -- exhausted -- it actually projects as aggression. I'm trying to figure out why.
15. My older brother claims I have Excessive Personality Disorder.
16. I'm not entirely certain he's wrong.
17. At one point in time I could bench press close to 300 pounds.
18. When I was younger I really wanted to join the military but circumstances at the time made that not a good decision. I still wonder, what if...?
19. I can drive anything with wheels or tracks.
20. I often feel like I'm surrounded by people who've had all sense of joy or elation sucked out of their lives, leading them to tell me to 'be serious' and assume that I wander through life making fun of everything. I reject that -- I take everying seriously, but lightly.
21. I don't like spending time in my office but acknowledge on occasion my need to feed my inner introvert.
22. I love archaeology journals. I pick them up whenever I can, and think that if I ever went back to grad school it'd be to become an archaeologist.
23. I can read Nabbatean Aramaic.
24. When I was 18, I legally changed my name and took my mother's maiden name. It would have died with my uncle.
25. I can talk about my wife and boys for hours. They're much more interesting than me.

Sermon for Sunday February 15, 2009/Epiphany 6

Epiphany is a season of surprises – we look through a series of Biblical accounts that illustrate not only how God works in our lives to bring about change and transformation, but also tell of how our lives are often lived completely oblivious to the presence of God.

It’s a human condition that we pat ourselves on the back and congratulate ourselves on our self-importance quickly pointing out how busy we are, especially when asked to give something of ourselves. Though we may pay lip service that ‘all we have in our lives is given by God,’ but when it comes time to pass on what we have been first given – our selves, our time, our possessions – we suddenly become very important, very busy, and very defensive.

Which really comes down to power, I think. I think when we’re doing well, and are successful, and comfortable – then we feel powerful, and are reluctant to attribute the gaining of that power to anyone but ourselves. It makes us feel small.

The opposite of that is that when the bottom falls out of the market, or the test comes back positive, or your spouse walks out on us, God figures very highly in our lives – again, I think because we feel we’ve lost power and must then believe in a being that exerts some kind of ultimate power over the circumstances of our lives.

The atheistic objection to God – why does God let bad things happen – is a power question. It is never phrased as its opposite – why does God bless people with all manner of good things – because, quite frankly, most people don’t want God poking in on their affairs when things are good, but want someone to blame when they’re bad. Value is placed on things only if they cost us something or give us power – not if they are freely given. It’s this aspect of God’s grace that often have difficulty understanding – that it’s freely given, though purchased at a far greater cost that we can ever imagine. It is ‘power’ in a way that we can barely understand.

So Naaman found. Because by and large, I think his story is about power – how he perceived it and wanted to use it, compared to how God used it to bring about his healing and wholeness.

Naaman. Commander of the army of the King of Aram – present day Syria – and in high favour with his master because the Lord had given him victory over the armies of Israel. Yes, we did hear that right – God had given the leader of an invading army victory over his own chosen people. But Namaan didn’t know it – he just knew that he was big and important.

But he was also sick. Leprosy, the story tells us – really, a catch-all term for a host of skin diseases. To give the story a modern twist, we could even speculate it as a kind of melanoma – a fast moving cancer of the skin that can be very painful. It had to be painful in some way, at least, for the slave of his wife to notice. She was a token taken in battle by him, and given to his wife to be her servant. I give my wife nice earrings; he gave his a slave. Happy Valentine’s Day, honey.

But the slave girl believed in God, and from this most unimportant of messengers came the first witness to Naaman of the Lord. And Naaman in turn, went to his master to ask permission to travel to the land that Syria had just conquered. Actually, what he did was go to the source of his own power (given to him by the King) to ask permission to tap into another monarch’s power.

Naaman sought out what he perceived to be the source of power in the land, and went to the King of Israel with an honour guard of his own and a gift – probably eighty thousand dollars or so. And he demanded of the King that he be cured.

But he didn’t do anything that we don’t do. He sought out the place where power was traditionally held in his society. We go to a doctor, not a naturopath or a faith healer. We ask politicians, not pastors, to fix our woes.

And the King of Israel hadn’t heard of any prophet. So far, Elisha hadn’t done anything to attract the attention of the King. Sure, he’d travelled around with Elijah, but had done very little on his own. The King took Naaman’s request directly, and panicked. His own power was being immediately threatened, and he assumed that Naaman was back to fight him again, so soon after gaining victory. What could he possibly want? Naaman, a huge and powerful man, was demanding of the King the power of God – to cure Naaman of his sentence of death. Power the King had – power to sentence someone to execution, to invade, to raise an army – but not the power of God, to give death or life.

So picture the capital of Israel. Not Jerusalem, but Samaria. A squat city, surrounded by a large wall. And then picture several hundred foreign charioteers camped outside the gates. They’re not for show; they’re a professional elite fighting force.

(Picture instead, if you will, a battalion of Marines accompanying the next American businessman to come to Calgary for lunch with the mayor. You’d sweat. They’ve got the best weapons of the day. They’re trained to use them. There’s a largely undefended populace. And by the way, the Marines are very, very bored).

So word spreads across the country to the rural backwater where the prophet Elisha is staying. And the prophet sends a message to the King. Note that: he sent a message. He didn’t come himself. Whether he didn’t consider himself important enough to present himself before the King with the admission or simply knew that God’s power didn’t need fashionable circumstances is a good question.

The message Elisha sends the king reads more or less as follows: “don’t be stupid. Send him to me, that he may learn of God”. Not “that he may be healed,” not “that I can help you,” but simply, “that he may learn there is a prophet in Israel.”

So Naaman goes back on the road. Not just himself, though; no, he takes his honour guard with him. This would be quite a production, I think. Children would line the road to see this army come through – curiosity would overwhelm fear, after they’d passed through the first two or three towns with little pillaging. And then this group stops at the house of the prophet Elisha. Naaman, the man who brought Israel to its knees, commander of the armies of Aram, a mighty warrior – is then given a message at the door.

“Don’t come in. Go and wash in the Jordan seven times, and be clean.”

Is that it?? Go and wash in the Jordan seven times? Naaman is enraged, and we catch a glimpse of exactly how powerful he thinks he is. “I thought that for ME he would surely come out, and stand and call upon the name of the Lord his God, and would wave his hand over the sport, and cure the leprosy!” No big show. No production values, no God talk, no flashing lights. Naaman is convinced that Elisha is mocking him – telling him he smells. He needs to see something – hocus pocus, abracadabra a showing of power – or to do something for this to be healed.

But his servants stop him, and remind him gently that power manifests itself in other ways. “Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, ‘wash, and be clean?’” And Naaman, humbled, went and washed in the Jordan, and became clean.

Naaman’s sense of his own identity sprung from his own conception of power – he was powerful as a leader and a warrior. So, when he sought out healing, he believed that it would come in the same form as he found power. First, that he could force a King to heal him, or force the king to direct the prophet. Failing that, he arrived on the prophets’ doorstep and demanded a sign. Being told to go and wash – in effect, that all he needed to do was something very simple – he became angry, because he wanted to see power. He wanted mumbo jumbo.

What he found, then, was that God’s healing – God’s grace – comes freely, and simply. There are no strings or steel hawsers attached; no mighty deeds, no quests. God’s grace isn’t found in the fantasy story of the mighty hero doing noble tasks on a arduous quest – it’s found in the gift of a dandelion held in a grubby little fist. Simple, and free.

The story of Naaman opens our eyes to the reality that God’s power is made manifest in the weak, the humble, and the simple. From the words of a servant girl, to reluctance of a prophet, to the warrior stripping off his armour to wash, and be made clean.

God’s power is made manifest here among us now, in bread and in wine, in times past and in times to come. We, who have been washed in the Living Waters of our baptism, gather in community at the table of our Lord Jesus Christ.

In the waters, like Naaman we find the power of God. It can bring the dead to life, and it can fill an empty soul. May Jesus in this season of Epiphany open our eyes to see his power at work in places we don’t expect it, in places that we often ignore or seldom care about.

And may that power equip us for work and service in the kingdom of God, that we may serve with joyful and believing hearts and share the message with all people:

Wash, and be made clean.

Amen.

8 weeks

8 weeks till I get to sing my two favourite hymns in church!

what a day....

what a long, long day.

Had a terrible night last night. I had some kind of fever that, in addition to making my sleep fitful at best, translated into anger at being woken up continuously by a toddler that wouldn't sleep in his own bed and a baby that felt nursing every 1/2 hour was a good idea. The only person in the house who had a worse night than mine was the co-Director's. Ouch.

Of course, at Hope we have two church services every morning. This morning was the service of matins -- Morning Prayer -- which is very cantor-intensive. Looking at the bulletin before service began, I noticed that your friendly neighbourhood Vicar was down as Cantor. 'Cept I hadn't noticed that before.

That chuckling sound you hear in the background is all the people who know me laughing manically, because they know I can't sing. At least, not very well. But I pulled it off not too badly.

The afternoon found us down in Vulcan visiting my mom - sniggled out of teaching an adult class (thanks, reverend supervisor) and trundled down south.

And walked right into an old friend. Seriously old friend; quite possibly the biggest influence in my desire to be a pastor. That's right, folks. There's someone for you to blame.

I haven't seen him in a number of years -- family stuff with both of us caused us to lose track of each other. We went through a tough time, as well -- times when I didn't know if our friendship could survive. But by God's grace, it did.

And so now, tonight, I rejoice. Had I one, I would kill the fatted calf. For the friend I thought was lost is found again.

Notice:

Hell has frozen over.

I am now on Facebook.



I feel dirty.

so big!

Boy2's taking his first steps all alone!

up in canmore...

..at the Synod study conference.
This happens once a year, when pastors and church workers have the chance to get together for a couple of days and share ideas, hopes, dreams, failures, and beer with each other.

But mostly, you know, beer.

But oddly enough (and possibly what's worth blogging about) is that I wasn't among the group who went to the pub last night. Those who know me know me as a raging extrovert -- I thrive on being around people. Love it, love it. Before Seminary I loved working at jobs that brought me into interaction with all sorts of new people. Since I've been in Seminary I've found that those marketable 'people skills' are sometimes misunderstood but usually appreciated by people I meet.

My older brother diagnosed it as excessive-personality disorder; my friends occasionally find it annoying and my supervising pastor occasionally thinks I'm nuts. I don't necessarily disagree with him -- and I'm going to spend some time with a spiritual director to find a little more of that still small voice that allows me to take the time to seek quiet for reflection and calmness. The Lord knows, it can't hurt.

But last night we gathered for worship -- Holden Evening Prayer, for those who know it -- and then a reception afterwards. I had a HUGE amount of fun at the reception and saw a lot of people that I haven't seen for a long time. I drove up with the Bishop of the BC Synod in a car my supervisor loaned me for the occasion and we had some great conversation.

But afterwards, when I got back to the hotel and checked in, I was totally planning on heading out to the pub for some serious research (kinds of beer available, etc...). When I got every thing unpacked and called the co-Director though, something kinda odd happened.

I realized that I was absolutely, completely, utterly, exhausted. And the last thing I wanted to do was hang out with more people, no matter how much I liked them. I just couldn't motivate myself.

I'm familiar with the obligation to feed my inner introvert from time to time, but I've never really paid attention to a need to take time for myself. It was a bit...y'now...different.

I'm not certain that I could function as an introvert 100% of the time, but I'm beginning to see the usefulness of taking time to actually think through what I want to say and do.

For example, I really could have used those skills on Sunday. This Sunday we had the AGM, so only one service. The sermon was a dialogue between my supervisor and myself; he asked me some questions and I answered them. He'd given me a general idea of what he was going to ask, but when he asked the questions they were different than I expected in quite unexpected ways.

And the result was a hodgepodge in my head. Thoughts, ideas, and statements all running every which way. Words confused with each other as I re-wrote conclusions and statements in my head. I'm not even certain I had a point. I confused weeks with months, forgot things that we talk about every single week, even with him prompting me. In my mind, it was a mess, and I felt pretty terrible afterwards when I sat down to think. I resorted to MSU-influenced thought at one point, I think, and though I don't remember exactly what I said I remember thinking at the time, 'what?' (MSU is Making S**t Up, btw).

Maybe it's an age thing, maybe a maturity thing (God forbid.) But I really do need to spend more time in that quite space than making noise. Less time concerned with what people think about what I say, than saying what I actually feel.

Basically, learning how to interact with all people with the same sort of care and attention that I bring to my wife and close friends, instead of cracking silly jokes and generally making an ass of myself.

But old habits are hard to break. Wish me luck.

ugh.

So, up here there's been some rumbling about budgetary issues. I've been reading a couple of articles this morning.

Generally speaking, they surround the fact that our governing party is absolutely bloody barmy. Seriously, they're a bunch of useless bloody loonies.

Someone really needs to send Harper to the same political oblivion as Bush. 4.4 billion dollars in tax cuts to large businessess; barely noticeable scraps thrown to the lower-middle class that's just struggling to hold together.

170 million dollars to the forestry industry. For what!!?? The forests are being eaten by an army of bugs that are there because of freakin' climate change -- it's finally warm enough, year round, for them to live and thrive. And thrive they're doing, because our knuckleheaded conservatives think that 'climate change' is what you do to climates when they're young and smelly. And what does the budget say about climate change? There's a bit tossed in as an afterthought to appease Ignatieff, and it's apparently worked. I had high hopes for the maturation of Canadian government. But sadly, I don't have those any longer.

And of course, there's the 'you're poor but you can renovate your house' clause. $10000 for home renovations. According to my understanding, not green renovations -- changing lightbulbs or insulation -- no, this is talking about screening the porch or building a home theatre.

And the one thing that scares me the most is that in a time of incredible layoffs, tens of thousands of people out of work and no other job for them to find, there's no mention of EI in the budget. Our EI system only allows 54% of people laid off to receive EI benefits. I mean, c'mon EI money is entirely spent on the economy -- it's too piddling an amount to save and people desperately need milk and diapers.

Will someone please inform our Prime Minister that it's not 1954, the poor cannot 'pull themselves up by their own bootstraps,' and that, last and furthermore, he's a knob?

Stephen Harper deserves the same kind of defeat handed to Brian Mulroney and Kim Campbell. He's greased enough pockets during his time in office that he won't be standing in the bread lines anytime soon, but I think I'd better off if him and his party are given time off of governing for a reality check.