Wednesday, August 21, 2019

“Even the wilderness and desert will be glad in those days. The wasteland will rejoice and blossom with spring crocuses.” (Isaiah 35:1, New Living Translation)

                We have a Dwarf Korean Lilac bush in our front flower bed. In mid to late June it bursts into its glory both visually and aromatically. The large bush is covered in blossoms and the flowers’ scent greets you as you come up the front walk.  Every year we await this brief but spectacular event.

                This week, I have noticed a truly late bloomer on the bush – a tiny, little blossom boldly defying the time of year we’re in. It’s not very big although a honey bee did find it, so it is, at least, lending a tiny portion of itself to some sweet honey hive somewhere. It really isn’t supposed to be there, this little micro-reminder of new life and potential fruitfulness.

                Perhaps, some of you may be familiar with Picasso’s masterpiece Guernica.  It is a massive portrayal of the apocalyptic horrors of war and the chaos and destruction which war brings.  It portrays the suffering of people and animals. It is impressionistic, dark and sombre, capturing the violence and depravity of war. It is a hard picture to take in fully because every inch (and it is a very large canvas) is full of symbolism and imagery.

                Yet, in the corner, being grasped by a dying soldier, is a small blossom - a white poppy, a traditional symbol of peace. Despite the waste, the horror, the dismay, the bedlam, the devastation which most of the painting reveals, here grows this flower. It shouldn’t be there. It should have been trampled, pulled out by its roots, crushed by the bloody catastrophe which was taking place around it.  You almost don’t see it. It seems out of place. Out of time. Goes against the grain. Is it blooming in a futile defiance?

                When we are in the middle of a crisis which disturbs and disrupts our lives with chaos, pain, suffering and  our sprits  are being overwhelmed with the anarchy of  whatever is tearing us apart it may be very hard to find hope, even so much as a small seed, never mind a full blossom. When all seems lost or irreparable or devastating it may seem that nothing will ever be right again. There are few if any words of comfort, counsel, solace or consolation that can fill the emotional cracks which are undermining one’s total being. Well-being seems a memory; something never to be experienced again.

                But there is always hope. “But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” (Romans 8:25)  This hope is not some simplistic, easy, magical answer to our wars of life.  It requires a great of trust and faith, finding just enough strength to lean into the fierce winds and storms, assured that God has not abandoned us. We don’t often know why this terrible thing has happened or why us, but it has and now we reach for those resources which will help us endure and cope.

                Hope is that obstinate blossom which grows against the tableau of chaos and suffering. Like our text above, when we are in the wilderness and those desert places there will come a time when the power of God’s re-creativity takes the world back again and make things right. That hope probably won’t wipe away every tear right now or immediately but it is also the right-now blossom which defies and resists the times we are in.

                “We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we’re not demoralized; we’re not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do; we’ve been spiritually terrorized, but God hasn’t left our side; we’ve been thrown down, but we haven’t broken.” (2 Corinthians 4: 8-9, The Message Bible)

Dale

Wednesday, August 14, 2019

“I remember your genuine faith, for you share the faith that first filled your grandmother Lois and your mother, Eunice. And I know that same faith continues strong in you.” (1 Timothy 1:5, New Living Translation) 

                He likes me! He really likes me!

                After celebrating Spencer’s third birthday on Sunday, the remaining adults were sitting around chatting and his bed time rolled around. He was asked which adult he wanted to get him ready for bed. There were his Mom and Dad, his paternal grandmother, Susan and me.  “Grandpa!” he said. Music to my ears.

                As we went through the bed time routines, goofing around while he got his PJs on, reading stories, getting him “new” water for his water bottle and the like, it struck me how much our young grandchildren simply enjoy me for being me. I had also wrestled and played with William and Henry on Sunday. Declan loves it when we are tickling each other and I blow raspberries on his tummy as I did when they visited us at our rented vacation place on Lake Erie. In their eyes, I don’t have to be a super hero or a rock star or a millionaire or an astronaut or have invented a cure for cancer. All I need is to be Grandpa – available, ready with hugs and kisses, ready to rumble, ready to play and read stories. I can do that. Thankfully, it doesn’t take a genius either. I don’t even have to practice.

                There will come a day, no doubt, i.e. when they are  teenagers, in which  they will breeze into the room, give a quick wave and be gone before I have a chance at making some corny joke or telling some same old story to which they will roll their eyes and hide in their bedroom for the rest of my visit. So, I am going to enjoy and treasure every moment of these precious youngest years and savour them like fine, aged single malt scotch. I will have many more such blessings to come as we anticipate the births of two granddaughters and a grandson over the next few months. But they seem to grow up too fast too soon.

                Our verse comes from Paul’s letter to his protégé, Timothy, now a young man. Paul remembers the environment of his grandmother and mother’s faith which surrounded Timothy as he grew up. The legacy of that faith vibrantly continues through Timothy’s life. 

I am always sorry when I hear adults recount bad or painful memories about their religious upbringing. Being forced to go to church. Boring church. Experienced too much hypocrisy.  Parents, especially clergy parents, who were too strict and severe, especially in their disciplinary methods.  This cold, hard type of religious upbringing makes good pagans and understandably so.  Severe religious demands upon children do not mirror the Jesus’ practice of suffering the little children to come unto him.

                It would appear that Timothy had a warm, loving, inspiring and nurturing childhood which faith played no small part. As a boy he watched this Christian faith being played out by his grandmother and mother. He wasn’t just force-fed religion; he watched it in action.  And I wouldn’t wonder at all if there were also hugs and tickles and kisses and stories. Lois and Eunice knew what it took to raise a child.  Otherwise, Timothy wouldn’t be the sort of person he was becoming.

                So, for as along as my grandkids allow, I am totally into this grandparenting thing. “Grandpa!” – now that is music to my ears! 

Dale

Wednesday, July 17, 2019

“A man with leprosy came and knelt in front of Jesus, begging to be healed. ‘If you are willing, you can heal me and make me clean,” he said…Instantly the leprosy disappeared, and the man was healed.” (Mark 1: 40, 42, New Living Translation)

[We will be on a summer hiatus for three weeks. Be back on August 14.]

                What is it with the human proclivity, especially those with political or religious power, to “leper-ize” those who are different? To make then wear bells as a warning in they are in the vicinity. To force them to keep to their own kind? To declare them to be unclean and unfit for ordinary society?

                But it is as old as time. Pharaoh enslaved the Hebrews because they were deemed “more numerous and powerful than we” (Exodus 1:9) and fearing they would the join Egypt’s enemies and fight for them. It didn’t matter whether it was true or not but the propaganda worked.

The Biblical Jews, at times, were no slouches either in demonizing other cultures and often exercised their own strict rules and even progroms to maintain racial and religious purity.

                But we never learn from history. Modern examples leap to mind. Indigenous people hived into reservations and residential schools. Japanese internment camps in Canada during WWII. The slaughter of minorities in many East European, Asian and African countries. The stigmatization and persecution of the LGBTQ community. And worst of all, the terrible and undeniable horror of Nazi concentration camps for Jews.

                So, when the American government started rounding up immigrants this past week I am, sadly, not particularly surprised as much as I am disheartened and dismayed.  The stories of the horrendous conditions of their detention camps are alarming, including separation of children from their parents, little food and poor sanitation, little medical treatment, and the nauseating list goes on. But hey, they came to the USA uninvited and are now officially deemed as unclean, unfit to reside in America, a threat, a menace, a blight, an expensive influx of “those people”. The official words of explanation sound so sensible, reasonable and practical but scratch not far from the surface and one finds that all-so-human trait of disliking anyone who is really different from us and our kind. They are not welcome!

                I am not picking on just the States as I have little to no doubt that there are many in Canada who would welcome a more stringent, exclusionary, prejudicial action taken against new immigrants and refugees here. Populism which has an anti-immigrant component is rampant across many countries.

                Therefore, I am always struck by Jesus’ very personal, hands-on approach to real lepers of his time. He did not shun them. He did not avoid them.  He met them, talked to them, and by the grace of his power and love Jesus brought many of them back into community, restoring fellowship and family, and gave them back their dignity, self-respect and well-being. He included them in his life when everyone else had tried to fence them in and keep them at a safe distance. Lepers, gentiles, women, Romans soldiers, Samaritans, prostitutes and tax collectors – all the people on Jewish society’s “no-fly” list - were embraced by Jesus in word and deed.  Jesus opened up the borders that so often divide us from one another.

                If we were really willing, we could do a lot to help heal and make acceptable those who are fleeing one bad situation only now to end up in another one.  We can speak up for them. We can sponsor them. We can challenge unfair policies.  At the very least (?) we can be more inclusive, welcoming and gracious when meeting them. If we were willing, we could make a difference both here at home and in these other places where the need is so overwhelming.

                If only we were willing…

Dale

Wednesday, July 10, 2019

“The best thing you can do right now is to finish what you started last year and not let those good intentions grow stale. Your heart's been in the right place all along. You've got what it takes to finish it up, so go to it. Once the commitment is clear, you do what you can, not what you can't. The heart regulates the hands” (1 Corinthians 8: 10 – 12, The Message Bible)

                Then first time I met Percy Lane, a rotund, elvish man, really smart and witty, he was handing out circular wooden tokens, about the size of a loonie, which had the letters TUIT inscribed on them. The tokens were for people who are always saying that they will get around to it (a round TUIT).

                This old memory surfaced as I have been driving around Peterborough lately. I don’t know about your city or town but there seems to be a glut of road construction projects here this year, both very large road reconstruction and many small ones, not much more than patch jobs. There are machinery, dirt and holes in the streets just about everywhere one goes. But it also seems to me that a work crew starts something and then leaves the work site and it stays that way for several days before they will get around to it, i.e. finishing the job. There is one street which has some serious water main work going on and I haven’t seen a work crew there in a more than a couple of weeks.  Another street was ripped apart over a year ago and they still haven’t finished the job.

                There are probably good reasons for the delays and interruptions but I wish, instead of starting another new job, they would just finish what they have started first.

                Mind you, the city politicians have been discussing the building of The Parkway road for the last 50 years or more, so maybe there is something in the water here.

                I should talk - a master of delay, procrastination, starting things (e.g. novels I have begun) and losing interest in projects, sometimes becoming bored and just down right lazy and not getting around to finishing the job. Now that I have very few deadlines, it has become much easier to put off until tomorrow what I should have done today. It’s a wonder that this blog gets done every week.

                Somebody, hand me a round TUIT!

                Paul was on at the people of the church at Corinth to complete a promise they had made to raise money for the poor, struggling Christian church in Jerusalem. He uses a little guilt, embarrassment, threat and finally some praise to get them to finish what they had started a year earlier.

                I think we all have had the experience of meaning to phone someone or send a card or do something for someone and we don’t and then something happens and it is too late. As it is said, the road to heaven is paved with good intentions.

The epistle of James reminds us to be doers of the word and not merely hearers of the word. Faith without works is dead. Talk is cheap. Actions speak louder than words. “For instance, you come upon an old friend dressed in rags and half-starved and say, ‘Good morning, friend! Be clothed in Christ! Be filled with the Holy Spirit!’ and walk off without providing so much as a coat or a cup of soup - where does that get you? Isn't it obvious that God-talk without God-acts is outrageous nonsense?” (James 2: 15 -17, The Message Bible)

Don’t delay in telling someone that you love him or her. Don’t put off words of praise or appreciation.  Don’t neglect a promise to someone. Don’t postpone time spent with family or friends. Don’t overlook your commitments. Don’t make excuses about those things which don’t get done. Don’t make promises that you can’t keep.  Once the commitment is clear, you do what you can, not what you can't.

I need to practice what I preach… Maybe tomorrow!

             Quick, somebody, hand me a round TUIT!

Dale

Wednesday, July 3, 2019

“It will happen in a moment, in the blink of an eye, when the last trumpet is blown. For when the trumpet sounds, those who have died will be raised to live forever. And we who are living will also be transformed.” (1 Corinthians 15:52, New Living Translation)

                Saxophones are never mentioned in the Bible – harps, lutes, flutes, trumpets, tambourines but no saxophones, mainly because, of course, the saxophone wasn’t invented until around 1841 by Adolphe Sax.

                But now there is a worthy musician who has joined the reed sections of whatever heavenly jazz band is playing in whatever celestial club.  

Our good friend, John Oosterbroek, passed away last week, the cherished husband of his wife, Tish. He was a much beloved musician in our city and a member of our church. He played the saxophone, clarinet and flute with wonderful  panache and skilful expertise – jazz, classical, religious, you name it. John played with our worship team. But he conducted orchestras, played in clubs, played for various bands, and was an active member of the music community here in Peterborough.

As good and excellent as all that is, better yet, he was a friend of mine. He had a droll wit, an appreciative spirit, an inquisitive mind and beneath what some interpreted as a gruff manner was a big and caring heart. He always was interested in our family. He was someone with whom I could share my concerns around the church and he kept it in confidence.

What might surprise some people is the high regard he has from his students whom he taught in high school for a few years. Most, if not all, give him credit for their deep love of music and in some cases going on to major in music in university and make careers out of music. One woman who had received her doctorate in music gives John the credit. John had inspired and awoken something in these students and they haven’t forgotten.

I had a taste of that skill a few years back when I tried to revive my saxophone playing which I had first learned in high school. I took weekly lessons. I could have taken daily lessons and it wouldn’t have made a difference. I was really awful. But John was patient, encouraging, helpful and instructive but I must have been torturing him with the cacophonous noise coming from my rented saxophone.

Saxophones are not ‘horns” technically.  Nevertheless, allow me to take a small liberty and include them in the horn section of heaven. A ram’s horn, for instance, was a popular OT instrument for the people of God. A blast of the ram’s horn could mean that God’s Holy Presence was close at hand. “On the morning of the third day, thunder roared and lightning flashed, and a dense cloud came down on the mountain. There was a long, loud blast from a ram’s horn, and all the people trembled.” (Exodus 19:16, NLT)

It always signaled that something special was happening “Sing your praise to the Lord with the harp, with the harp and melodious song, with trumpets and the sound of the ram’s horn. Make a joyful symphony before the Lord, the King!” (Psalm 98: 5 -6) It was the horn for sounding the battle call.  It could rally the people or inspire them or call them to action or even repentance. “Blow the ram’s horn in Jerusalem! Announce a time of fasting; call the people together for a solemn meeting.” (Joel 2:15, NLT)

When John wailed away on his axe (slang for a saxophone) it could evoke in me feelings that made me appreciate how sacred and mysterious music can be. Music has a way of connecting us to the creative side of life. Music can express in ways that words cannot those deep inner feelings of thought and spirit. Music captures our moods and often enables us to get out of our funks and melancholia. Music can express the spiritual natures of our beings.

So perhaps if Gabriel ever gets tired of trumpet practice in preparation for the big Resurrection Day, maybe he can let John have a few notes of his own, even on the saxophone.  He won’t regret it!

Dale

Wednesday, June 26, 2019

“The master said, ‘Well done, my good and faithful servant. You have been faithful in handling this small amount, so now I will give you many more responsibilities. Let’s celebrate together!’” (Matthew 25:23, New Living Translation) 

                Ah, retirement! It is wondrous! It is a blessing! It is sweet and delicious. It is… well, you get my point. There was a report this week which claimed that most Canadians over the age of 55 are happy or content with their lives. I suspect that many of those folk are probably retired.

                We attended a celebration event on Sunday in Kingston for the retirement of my brother, Wayne, after nearly 60 years in pastoral ministry, the last fifteen years at Edith Rankin Memorial United Church.  His wife, Jean Stairs, who has been doing team ministry with him over the last several years, was also feted for her retirement at the same time.

                I am not sure Wayne knows what exactly to expect about retirement. He thought that I was crazy retiring so early and I think he was nuts for working so long. But to each his own. He has been a dedicated and exhaustive worker for the Church his whole life. He has wanted to be a minister since he was knee-high to a tadpole. He has remained in church ministry into his 70s and has been very fruitful, successful and productive in all those years. I am immensely proud of him.

                He has not really seriously asked me other than saying to me on Sunday whether this retirement thing is all that it is cracked up to be. My short answer was, yes, it has been wonderful. The time is your own and I have loved every minute of my retirement. I joke that I wish that I had done it 40 years ago. I am not sure that he was totally convinced.

                But it got me to thinking about a longer answer – after all, you take the man out of preaching but not the preaching out of the man.

                To anyone who struggles with retirement, thinking about retirement or is restless in retirement (and trust me, ministers are among the worst in adapting to retirement) here is my unsolicited advice.

                Let retirement come to you naturally. You don’t have to grab it by the horns and tame it. Find its natural flow; breathe the air of its freedom; sense its new rhythms and life’s patterns. Don’t tackle it aggressively, but let it find you and reward you in ways that you haven’t experienced since you were a child, probably. Retirement doesn’t have to be profound or intense to be interesting and meaningful. You don't have to consume your retirement; savor it, instead. You may have time on your hands; that’s not a bad thing – you can use it if you want but it is not mandatory. You can finally drop the Protestant Work Ethic.

                Retirement can become time, space and place for rediscovery of favourite pastimes, hobbies or projects. But don’t go at those things like your hair is on fire. Enjoy the pace of retirement. Like it is written in Ecclesiastes there is a time for everything and now you are in control of those times.

                I have never been a fan of a purpose driven life philosophy for anyone. It sounds too intense, obsessive, compulsive, hardcore single-mindedness.  Driven people may have the most difficult time in retirement. I loved my years in ministry but I have received this amazing gift and permission from God to kick off my shoes and let others pay heed to burning bushes. I get to spend more time with my grandchildren, have time to write, to play silly computer games, build Lego sets, to choose activities that I enjoy. I still do on-call chaplaincy at the hospital and serve on a couple of committees.  I am just busy enough to keep me active.

                Life is good!  I pray that if you are in one of the 55 years and older categories that happiness has found you and contentment is not eluding you. Enjoy!

Dale

Wednesday, June 19, 2019

“Don't you see that children are God's best gift? The fruit of the womb his generous legacy? Like a warrior's fistful of arrows are the children of a vigorous youth.  Oh, how blessed are you parents, with your quivers full of children!" (Psalm 127: 3-4, The Message Bible) 

                Talk about quiversful, our family is growing and then some.

                Let me re-phrase the Psalm slightly. “Oh, how blessed are you grandparents with your quivers full of grandchildren.”

                Along with the previously announced anticipated Fall arrivals of two grandchildren, a third is now expected by early January, a newborn for Krista and Nathaniel, a sibling for Declan. We are the envy of every wanna-be grandparent we meet, and a few who would like more grandchildren.

                Along with the joys of my retirement, we will have the pleasure of 7 grandchildren, all under the age of six. Yeah, I know; I am just rubbing it in.

                Yesterday, I was having a conversation with one of the daughters of my doctor. He had been asked by another patient whether he was spoiling his twin, five-year old grandsons. Of course, he was. The daughter who is also the receptionist sardonically chirped in by saying that she found it hard to believe that this is the same man who raised her as he is  now such a softie when it came to the grandsons. I suspect that my adult children could say much the same thing about me.

                I don’t know what it is about grandchildren but dang it, they can make you weak at the knees.

                I suppose that I could fret about the kind of world these three children are being born into. Sometimes, it looks like a mess – environmentally, politically, culturally, and so on. We all could do a better job of improving this ol’ world so that our children and grandchildren have a better opportunity to enjoy the future. But I expect that sentiment has been expressed for time immemorial by all upcoming generations which doesn’t make it any less true or poignant.

                I also suppose that it would be easy for old codgers like myself to complain that that today’s youth and children have never had it so easy and how entitled and self-absorbed they seem. I could say that; except I don’t really believe it that much. I think that today’s children and youth face issues, circumstances, peer pressure, defining sexual identities, pressures that most of us never even dreamed of when we were young. Each generation is different, of course, and faced or are facing diverse challenges. But I would say that in my youth the main question seemed to be, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Now it seems to be “Who do you want to be when you grow up?” And it seems a a much harder question to answer.

                I’ve said it before but I will say it again; in light of the world which our children are facing, we need to be a compass for them. This doesn’t mean we make their decisions for them all the time or force down their throats our old social, theological, cultural doctrines and creeds. We encourage; we listen; we speak from our experience when they ask; we seek accountability without threats and intimidation. We accept our responsibilities as adults to model, guide, teach, lead, inspire, bless, forgive and love our children at all costs. A compass – we point out a possible direction; eventually we let them go.

                I will confess that this is somewhat easier for a grandparent.  We don’t spend 24/7 with our grandchildren. We’d probably go nuts if we did or at least be so exhausted that we wouldn’t care that they’ve dressed up the cat and are holding it hostage in a doll carriage. So, instead,  we encourage their parents; give ‘em a break every  now and then; listen a lot and then advise but only if and when asked; let them make mistakes and then empathize; help them find the humour in some of situations and let them know that they are still unconditionally loved (even as we wilfully remind them that what goes around comes around).

                “Now that I am old and gray, do not abandon me, O God. Let me proclaim your power to this new generation, your mighty miracles to all who come after me.” (Psalm 71:18, New Living Translation)

Dale