Eyesight

I am in the middle of an email conversation with a young woman who asked me a thought provoking question..."If Jesus is so real, where can I find him? and I mean every day?"

Where DO you find Jesus? Where do YOU find Him?

I am finding that He is most apt to reveal Himself in the midst of life at its most real and inescapable.

Not necessarily in the blaze of unearthly light, or in the midst of a powerful sermon, or in the midst of an incredible altar call or retreat, but...at supper time, walking along a road, in song on the radio that captures my heart and opens my ears, in the sparkling blue eyes of my daughter, the mischievous smile of my son, or the soft voice of my wife humming.

This is the element that all the stories about Jesus after His resurrection have in common. The normalness of His appearing.

• Mary waiting at the empty tomb and suddenly turning around to see somebody standing there - somebody she thought at first was the Gardner. How average is that?
• All the disciples, except Thomas, hiding out in a locked house, and then His coming and standing in the middle of them.
• And then later, when Thomas was there, His coming again and standing there, in the middle of them.
• Peter in his boat back after a night at sea and there on the shore, near little fire of coals, a familiar figure asking, "Do you have any fish?"
• The two men on the road to Emmaus who knew Him only when He disappeared and they recognized His affect on their hearts.

How often do we miss Him simply because He isn't 'appearing' as we think He should. Think back over your day. Was He calling to you in the form of a gardener(or a cashier, or fellow student, or delivery man, or police officer)? But the realities of your own life blurred His presence?

wiping my eyes,

j

do YOUR part

www.earthhour.org

dawn breaks

just thinking a little today how the reality of jesus' life cuts through the blanketing fog of my life and experience. it's awesome to consider how light and hope have broken upon our world because jesus lives...because He comes alive in all of us.
wishing all of you a blessed 'sonrise'...and a wonder-filled easter season.

faith in humanity

Do you ever have one of those moments when your faith in humanity is restored? I really love it when that happens.

In an effort to avoid waiting six minutes for the next train, I made a mad dash up the walk way and up the escalator to jam myself on an already full train. As I was waiting for the car to empty, I was loving the fact that lots of people were getting off. Yes! No sardine car today. Just as the door was closing, an elderly gentleman on an motorized scooter pulled up to the door. The guy standing across the door from me grabbed his side of the closing door at the same time I grabbed mine to allow the scooter man to get on. It took a couple ding ding dings, (that’s the sound the intercom makes every time the door tries to close…. for those who haven’t had the pleasure of a skytrain ride ☺) but finally the scooter was on and my car was a sardine car after all.

As we approached the next stop, I watched the groups of people and the individuals around me. I was particularily intrigued by a group of about five 18ish year olds… it wasn’t their conversation that intrigued me because it wasn’t in english ☺… it was the way they seemed to be absorbed in their little circle (like most of us are when we travel in groups.)

It was clear that there were people already wondering how they were gonna get off at the next stop with scooter man blocking the door way. As we pulled up to the station, the exiting movement started. Again, something that must be experienced to get the full effect. People inching and scootching, standing and contorting so others can sit, leaving them room to stand. Gently and sometimes not so gently, making their way to the doorways for when the train comes to a stop.

On this trip, people couldn’t get to the door because of scooter man. There was agitation in the air. When the train did stop, scooter man reversed his way out of the train so the exodus could begin. The agitated people and the intriguing group of 18ish year olds were part of the group that made their way off the train, past scooter man, who was waiting to get back on.

The exodus continued. I looked at the face of scooter man. He was clearly worried about not being able to get back on before the doors closed. As the last of the exiting trickled off the train, the ding ding ding sounded. I realized scooter man hadn’t had a chance to get back on. As I reached out to grab the door so he could get back in the way of its closing, I looked up to see that someone who had gotten off was grabbing the other side of the door. I looked up to catch the eye of one of the 18ish year olds who had intrigued me before. After another couple rounds of ding ding ding, scooter man was on. I gave the 18ish year old a wave and said thanks. He didn’t have to stay, he could have walked away with the rest of his friends. He nodded in return.

The train went on its merry way, carrying me and scooter man to our destinations down the line. And the 18ish year old will never know it, but he helped restore my faith in humanity for today…. In its conscientiousness, its care, its kindness.

To all those who notice others... Thanks.

happy birthday hayley & zaira!! :)

last friday we celebrated hayley and zaira's birthday with a DORA birthday party and a rockin ELMO cake made by darlene! it was a fun party!

happy birthday ladies! we love you tons!

The Explorer

Isaiah 30:18
and therefore the Lord earnestly waits...to be gracious to you, and therefore He lifts Himself up that He may have mercy on your and show loving-kindness to you...

It is overwhelming to me to know that He waits for me. That He is eager with anticipation at the 'news' of my coming...coming to Him. He is whispering, calling, beckoning...inviting me to hear what my soul longs to hear. What is it? You tell me...what is the whisper you are waiting for? What morsel of truth is your heart longing to hear? Because honestly...we are all explorers...longing to 'go' somewhere at heart...waiting for something.

Let me share an excerpt I read recently that stirred my heart. Does it stir yours?

from The Explorer by Rudyard Kipling
"There's no sense in going further - it's the edge of cultivation. So they said and I believed it - broke my land and sowed my crop - built my barns and strung my fences in the little border station - tucked away below the foothills where the trail runs out and stops.

Till a voice, as bad as conscience, rang interminable changes on one everlasting whisper, day and night repeated so:
'Something hidden. Go and find it. Go and look by beyond the ranges - something lost behind the ranges, lost and waiting for you. GO!'

Anybody might have found it, but His whisper came to me."

peeringthroughthejungle,
j

from UBC

Hello cyber community...
Have been meaning to write a note for a while now documenting my journey into the quagmire of academic life. So as an exercise in procrastinating study for my german test tonight, now seems like a good time. 
Many of you know and understand that one of the things we’ve been dreaming of here in Vancouver is a community that is deeply rooted in devotion to Christ while being simultaneously rooted in diverse connections to real life. Put another way, each of us is committed to becoming more of who we are gifted/compelled to be…believing that those who are fully alive represent Jesus to the max.
For me, that lifestyle is not something that I’ve mastered. From day to day, my conception of who I am and who Jesus is in Vancouver fluctuates…surprise surprise. THIS is why I am becoming a staunch supporter of Christian community. Living with others challenges me to be honest about what I’m gifted to do (and also what my weaknesses are) while it bolsters my faith/confidence when things are dark, difficult, and discouraging.
Saying all that, I believe with all my heart that my recent acceptance into grad studies at UBC is not just a direct result of hard work and spousal patience (thank you dar), but also the love, courage, and commitment of my closest friends. I also believe that the doors we all are walking through here have not been opened through our own ingenious and audacious efforts, but through the prayerful and encouraging support of this thing we call our community.
I am becoming what I am becoming because of those who live closest to me. And while I’m honored and overwhelmed at the opportunity to study the things that I love (looking for Jesus in the everyday), I don’t take credit for strategically planning such an adventure. This journey of life, faith, and experience is best done collaboratively; I think that’s when we see clearest HIS work in all of us.
Leaning into grace…
sw

now i lay me down to sleep

a couple of years ago i discovered this remarkable association through darlene, whose pre and post hayley photographer in toronto was a member of.

i took at a look at their site and was captured by their mandate.
at the time we lived in estevan where there were no affiliates of NILMDTS, so it wasn't until we moved to the city here that i contacted the vancouver rep here and became a member.

i am attending some training at the end of this march and the end of april, and i'm really excited to see where this goes.

it resonates within my heart, being a missionary in the philippines for 6 years and being a lay midwife.

check out their website for more details of who they are..

now i lay me down to sleep

my heart,
tracey

below is a video that the Today Show did last week..it's represents NILMDTS so well..enjoy..

His sacrifice of loneliness...

My lent reading from the other day came from Mark 15:33-34. This is Walter Wangerin’s refection from his book “Reliving the Passion”.

"My God, why hast thou forsaken me?
Who answers him?
The thunder is silent. The city holds its breath. The heavens are shut. The dark is rejection. The silence is worse than death. No one answers him. No, not even God. Not even God, his Father, because he who has become hateful in his own eyes now is hateful likewise to God, his Father. Jesus. Him. It is against him that heaven has been shut. In this terrible moment of storm, the loss of light for humanity is at once the loss of love and life for its Christ. He has entered the absolute void. Between the Father and the Son now exists a gulf of impassable width and substance. It is the divorce of despising. For, though the Son still loves the Father obediently and completely, the Father despises the Son completely because he sees in him the sum of human disobedience, the sum of it from the beginning of time to the end. He hates the Son, even unto damning him… and this, precisely is the bitterest drop in the cup: that, crying down eternity unheard, separated absolutely from God – the God he cannot help but love even still – Jesus in Hell… Hell is eternal. And he has descended into Hell.”

And I reflect… sometimes I’ve wondered if Jesus really understands my loneliness, truly knows the deep and echoing pain of soul isolation. Now I feel a bit ridiculous. He knew lifetimes of loneliness in that small window of time, those few days, that I will NEVER know or ever be able to understand. WOW! So amazing, that He would choose that cup, choose to make that sacrifice.

O Lord God, I can never fully understand your sacrifice but I am so so so incredibly grateful that because of your sacrifice, I don’t have to walk alone.

* Photo courtesy of Tracey L Heppner Photography.

Is Jesus Enough

I am sitting here with and in my loneliness wondering if Jesus is enough?
I mean...really enough.
Not in my head. Not even in the places that I know he is enough.
But in this place. Where I don't know.
Here...Is Jesus enough?
Is he real in this place?
Here it isn't about anyone else.
It isn't about what I say to someone to make them believe
It isn't what I do, or how I act
It isn't even how I feel.
It is a true question of whether not here...Jesus is enough?
Who is Jesus anyway?
Who is he in the truly broken?
In the truly lonely?
In the truly hurting heart.
Which is everyone...somewhere inside. Somewhere.
It only takes something valuable lost or stolen or shattered,
or mistreated to remind them.
My pedal is up, and I am truly wondering
Is Jesus enough?

St. Patrick

Do you ever wonder where St. Patricks day came from??? Let me answer that...

I bind to myself today
The virtue of the Incarnation of Christ with His Baptism,
The virtue of His crucifixion with His burial,
The virtue of His Resurrection with His Ascension,
The virtue of His coming on the Judgment Day.
St. Patrick

For the more than 240 consecutive years, New Yorkers will line 5th Avenue in celebration. Chicagoans will pour green dye into the river that winds through their high rises and train bridges.

Pubs, sports bars and frat houses will display cardboard clovers and lime lights as revelers across the nation raise their collective Guinness’s high in staged reverence. On March 17 several nations will celebrate a dim memory—a memory that will quickly fade from national consciousness like the remnants of a bad hangover.

What so many will miss amid all the green beer and parading is the story of a saint who, at least euphemistically, ran the snakes right out of a nation; the story of a former slave who escaped bondage only to return later to evangelize his captors.

St. Patrick's story is a story about the call of God and the triumph of cultural relevance. It's the account of a man whose early life experiences made him the most able to speak into a Pagan culture that had previously so rejected Christianity.

The Historical Saint Patrick was born sometime in the late 4th Century to a Roman magistrate living in Britain and his possibly Gaelic wife. More than 400 years had passed since Julius Caesar had crossed the English Channel and envisioned a Roman outpost. In the wake of Constantine's religious reforms, Britain was not only overwhelmingly Latin, but overwhelmingly Christian as well.

Resisting tribes had been pushed back, north past Hadrian's wall and West, to Ireland. Nearly incessant warring between the Pagans and the Romanized British had drawn thick cultural lines, though an increasing fur trade helped to smooth the way for Christian missionaries eager to convert their godless neighbors.

At 15 or 16, Patrick was abducted in his native Britain by marauding pirates, taken to Ireland and sold into slavery. During his 6 year sojourn among the Celts, he learned the language and culture of his captors. By Patrick's accounts in his Confessio, his master was brutal and savage and only a continued reliance on God gave him the strength to suffer through slavery.

Six years after his capture Patrick escaped back to Briton, where he returned to live with his kinsman. After reestablishing a life among family, Patrick dreamt of Ireland and of evangelism and, by his own admission, heard the voice of God on more than one occasion—a call that led him to formally pursue the priesthood.

Catholic historians claim that he studied under St. Germanus, the Bishop of Auxerre until his own ordination as Bishop sometime in the early 430's. Shortly afterward, Patrick was commissioned to take the Gospel to Ireland. Patrick was not the first missionary to Ireland, there had been, by some accounts, quite a few before him. However, it seems that Patrick was by far the most successful evangelist of the Irish.

Here is the kicker: Patrick's success, was at least in part, due to his knowledge and application of Celtic culture. Drawing on symbols and imagery native to the Irish, Patrick used every available channel to bring the gospel to the nation of his former captivity.

Though it is doubtful that Patrick ever used the Shamrock to explain the concept of the Trinity, it is certain that he did not use the traditionally Roman vehicles of transmitting faith. Thomas Cahill, author of How the Irish Saved Civilization, says that "The early Irish Christianity planted in Ireland by Patrick is much more joyful and celebratory (than Roman Christianity) in the way it approaches the natural world. It is really not a theology of sin but of the goodness of creation, and it really is intensely incarnational."

From the way that Patrick observed the Celtic tradition of exchanging gifts to the way that he highlighted Christianity's belief in an afterlife (a belief shared by the Celts), Patrick used a tactic similar to the one Paul used on Mars Hill in Acts. Rather than convert the Irish to Roman culture, Patrick focused on the incarnational aspects of Christ, letting God work through their Celtic culture rather than letting his Roman form of Christianity work against it.

Susan Hines-Brigger, author of An Irish Journey into Celtic Spirituality, notes, "Whereas the ancient Celts worshiped pagan gods for nearly every natural setting, Celtic Christians praised God’s design and creation of all things natural." Patrick took the assumptions of the pagan worldview and turned them on their head, in a way that was culturally recognizable.

What can we learn? What can we truly meditate on...as we see the green and the shamrocks come out on Monday? Saint Patrick is a voice calling to us. Enslaved in a foreign land whose pagan practices were often hideous and cruel, Patrick responded with faith. After his escape, his ears were tuned to God's voice, leading him, ironically, back to the very place of his captivity. Finally, Patrick made the former foreign land his home in order to bless its inhabitants with the message of the Kingdom, and we see him do it in a way that showed respect and understanding for a people so utterly different than his own.

So, this March 17th, while everyone else is celebrating all things Irish by decking themselves out in green, drinking only the darkest Irish beer, or tuning in to Public Radio's celebration of Celtic music, let us be challenged by the sacrificial life of St. Patrick, looking for opportunities to turn our enslavements into blessings, speaking the message of the gospel message in a way that respects the culture of those around us while challenging them to change.

dreaming of the kingdom,

j

a thought

o fill my heart with awe & wonder
Replace all candering dark and blight
Fill me now with grace abundant
and let your light invade
All dark and mist and malcontent
ceaseless striving for world, back bent
Let life be like a seed placed deep
a natural (springing spryly) shoot
Born of dirt and dark combined
bounding now for sun and sky.

rosie the cucumber monster

just thought you'd all like to know that rosie is a cucumber monster... she LOVES them! i think she would eat them all day, for every meal for the rest of her life if she could... well, maybe for a couple days anyway!

clearer...

It’s a beautiful day. The sun, bright. The breeze, light. The temperature, perfect for the first day of March. I headed downtown to meet a friend for coffee that turned into lunch. We ended up in a great little hole in the wall Thai place just chatting about whatever. All my bus and SkyTrain transfers were perfect. I couldn’t really ask for more.

All except one thing. My sight. My focus. My contacts became all fuzzy early on in the day. It was affecting my sight. Affecting my ability to navigate. I couldn’t see. It came to a point of desperation.

Because I wasn’t at home and had no contact solution, my only option was water. (If you’re an optometrist or ophthalmologist or optician maybe stop reading now.) When you have fuzzy contacts and no contact solution the only option is to take out your contact and rub it with water. The only problem with this solution… it burns like your eye is on fire when you first put it back in.

You squeeze your eye tight, press on it, let it water, scrunching up your face until the burning sensation is gone. And then when you open your eye, your vision is amazing. Clearer than it’s ever been, sharper than HD TV can ever be.

Maybe it just seems clear because your vision was so bad before… Because the cloud over your eye was making everything painful… Because the lack of focus wouldn’t let you really see anything… bus numbers, leaves on trees, gum on sidewalks, peoples faces, smiles on children, brilliant architecture, amusing billboards, nothing. Everything looked wrong.

So I sucked it up and used the water technique, though painful for a moment the rest of my trip home was much more enjoyable, entertaining, memorable, valuable and I was once again startled by the clear-ness of things.

It’s amazing how much de-clouding a little momentary burning will do.

* Photo courtesy of tracey l heppner photography :)