Ron Cole : off the map...navigating life.

Life...becoming prayer

A little book I read many years ago hugely impacted my prayer life. It's title is, " The Practice of the Presence of God " by Brother Lawrence. He was able to live his life in the reality of it being an unceasing prayer.

For Brother Lawrence, "common business," no matter how mundane or routine, could be a medium of God's love. The sacredness or worldly status of a task mattered less than motivation behind it. "Nor is it needful that we should have great things to do. . . We can do little things for God; I turn the cake that is frying on the pan for love of him, and that done, if there is nothing else to call me, I prostrate myself in worship before him, who has given me grace to work; afterward I rise happier than a king. It is enough for me to pick up but a straw from the ground for the love of God."

Brother Lawrence felt having a proper heart about tasks made every detail of his life possess surpassing value. "I began to live as if there were no one save God and me in the world." Brother Lawrence felt that he cooked meals, ran errands, scrubbed pots, and endured the scorn of the world alongside God.

… Brother Lawrence reminds me to chill… Here are the words I read this morning that resounded deeply in my soul space: “The holiest, most common, most necessary practice in the spiritual life is the presence of God, that is to take delight in and become accustomed to His divine company, speaking humbly and talking lovingly with Him at every moment, WITHOUT RULE OR SYSTEM and especially in times of temptation, suffering, spiritual aridity, disgust and even of unfaithfulness and sin. We must continually work hard so that each of our actions is a way of carrying on little conversations with God, NOT IN ANY CAREFULLY PREPARED WAY BUT AS IT COMES FROM THE PURITY AND SIMPLICITY OF THE HEART.”

I don't know why it is that we make prayer so difficult, to the point it becomes about place, position, constructing the right words...where it becomes a formula, a ritual. Worse, it can become a chore or work. But what would happen if it became life, almost to the point of our breathing being prayer. Would that be any less sacred.

Ok, pause for a second and breathe in the reality that you have been crucified with Christ [in Him you have shared His crucifixion]; it is no longer you who lives, but Christ (the Messiah) lives in you; and the life you now live in the body you live by faith in (by adherence to and reliance on and complete trust in) the Son of God, Who loved you and gave Himself up for you. ( paraphrase Galatians 2:20 )

I think the seed of unceasing prayer is planted in that truth. I know there was a season where I meditated on those words before sleeping and upon awakening everyday. I didn't do it out of ritual, although it might appear that way, but it excited me. It was like kindling that I through on the fire of my imagination. The reality that through some profound mystery beyond my comprehension that Jesus dwells in me...and I can live out of the mystery constantly.

It becomes living in the reality of constant communion, not just Sunday morning in the taste of a wafer and a sip of wine, and when the taste fades communion is over till next Sunday. It's as if the reality of Jesus has been spliced into you DNA, and you spliced into his. Your whole day, your whole life, your comings and goings are all done in constant communion with Jesus. How does that make you feel? Does it make you want to live differently?

But more than anything it should move us towards lives of unceasing prayer, to the point all life is a prayer. Some thoughts I've had on prayer over the years that I hope don't seem to heretical are...

You don't have to always pray with words. You can be in situations, or conversations where thoughts can be prayer. Remember the Spirit intercedes when words are not audible.

If you pray for someone, or some situation like injustice, poverty, homelessness...be prepared to be part of the answer.

Raging, venting anger at the Divine is OK. Read the Psalms or Job. Go for it at the top of your lungs. Scream, exhaust yourself. Then...listen.

Help! is a great prayer. Like igniting a flare at a road side accident it might not seem like much at the time. The answer may be  strange, and untimely...so be alert.

You can pray with your body; you can breathe prayer;a hug can be prayer; touch can be prayer; tears and laughter can be prayer; your mere presence in someones life can be prayer. Coffee with Al can be prayer.

Singing, dancing, walking can be prayer.

Aligning life with creation, the waxing and waning moon and sun, the seasons of the earth, the plants and animals is prayer. Living in the interconnectedness of " all " life can be prayer. A congruousness of " creation sorrow ", when the boundaries between you and " all that is " disappears and you feel the pain, the wounds of creation...maybe you've had the feeling recently reflecting on the Oil Spill in the Gulf of Mexico.

Gratitude and kindness are always prayers.

You do not have to have a belief system to pray. You do not have to have a fixed opinion about where the divine resides or if the divine as a noun exists. All our words and images are metaphors to help us connect with the mystery, the intimately known and unknown.

Dreaming can be prayer. Cooking can be prayer. Eating can be prayer. Making love can be prayer. This list could go on and on.

When you pray for someone you become, for a moment, a co-creator, a bridge, a conduit to an eternal source of profound mystery and life. Remember Grace. It is unconditional. It is radical. It is scandalous. It's uncontainable. It has no limits. It has no boundaries. If you even have to think about it...suddenly it has become something less

I remember those moments when I have seen someone without the filter of my hopes or concerns for them, which can all too easily take on the tinge of judgment or control. Those moments are startling, illuminating, humbling...they are moments of grace.

Pray with grace. Let your life become unceasing prayer. Become prayer...in unceasing prayer you become.

Jesus Freak: feeding__healing__raising the dead

I received an uncorrected proof of Sara Miles, " Jesus Freak ", soon to be released in early February. With " Missional " being the buzz word  in much of the church conversation, and with an increasing number of blogs hanging it like a tag for a boxing day sale. It's refreshing to read a book of such profound simplicity, and clarity around the subject of what it is to be " Missional." Sara Miles voice is timely, passionate...and in a language we can all understand.

Jesus in the gospels, in talking to Nicodemus in the dark of the night at a roof top rendezvous, said the Spirit is like, " You know well enough how the wind blows this way and that. You hear it rustling through the trees, but you have no idea where it comes from or where it's headed next. That's the way it is with everyone 'born from above' by the wind of God, the Spirit of God."

And So it was for Sara Miles, carried by the mysterious wind through the door of a church. Invited to the table, she meets Jesus in that profound meal the church calls the Eucharist. In " Take this Bread ", she discovers the living reality of the Bread of Life.

In her new book, it is a continuation of the journey. As you cross the threshold in the the opening pages of the book, it becomes apparent that faith is a  journey of discovery. It is walking through the gospel narrative, in which Sara says, " Come and See." Sara reveals to truth of Jesus words, his announcement that the Kingdom is near. Jesus revealed through radical scandalous stories of redemption that captured human imagination of a Kingdom which miraculously could be here now. But Jesus not only talked the talk of the Kingdom, people saw it open up right before their eyes in acts of feeding, healing and raising the dead.

What does it mean to be a Jesus Freak? Or, more to the point, what would it mean to live as if you ____and everyone around you ___ were Jesus, and filled with his power? To just take his teachings literally, go out the front door of you home, and act on them? ( Jesus Freak; page xi )

Through the book Sara weaves three strands of profound truth of the Kingdom...of feeding, healing and raising the dead. The beauty of the book, it is not a truth of disconnect, through out she weaves gospel stories along with stories of everyday living. Each one of us has access to the Kingdom, in revealing it...and, also in building it.

Out of Sara's experience of discovering the mysterious truth of what the bread of life is, the altar at St. Gregory's of Nyssa Episcopal church becomes the center of a food pantry. Out of this place flows the redemptive imaginative power and stories like that of the gospel. As Sara says...

because where ever there is food, spirit and matter intersect. And the power to feed___ and particularly food to share with outside your tribe___ always has the potential to transform lives. ( Jesus Freak; page 21 )

The gospel is filled with profound stories of the table hospitality of Jesus. These become spaces of redemption. Where ever Jesus, food and strangers came to the table, it was like a reaction in a test tube. Out of the process, there was always the potential of a new creation happening. Sara makes it absolutely clear this is not a historical truth, we all have the power to do the same thing today. In the power Jesus has given each one of us, we step into everyday life...and simply live it out. The kingdom becomes glaringly present. Through real stories, in real time, Sara Miles shares stories of the power of feeding.

In Jesus Freak, Sara shares stories of healing in the midst of the community, and on the fringe. Stories of alcoholics, drug addicts, the sick and the mentally ill. Stories of healing that baffled the medical community. Stories that defied reason and logic. And there were stories of ordinary people becoming healers. She tells the story of a woman named Martha, on a trip in South America traveling a country road, they come across a man, the victim of an accident, covered in blood. You can't help reading Sara's story, and see the gospel story of the Good Samaritan cast it's shadow. Martha, thinking the man is dying places her hand on his chest. She says, " If he is dying. I want to make sure the last thing he remembers is the hand of someone caring for him." I'll tell you no more. I'll let you read the rest of Martha's remarkable story.

Sara conveys, a profound truth in her healing stories...relationship.

All prayer can do is heal, because healing comes embedded in relationship, and prayer is one of the deepest forms of relationship___with God, and with other people. And through relationship, there can be healing in the absence of cure. ( Jesus Freaks; page 85 )

In the section titled raising the dead, Sara tells an incredible beautiful story of Laura. A woman dying of advanced lung cancer who phones the church inquiring about a program called, " Scared Dying." Ironically, the real name, was a hospice program called, " Sacred Death." Again, that's all I'm telling you, other than, in it you'll discover the resurrection all over gain. The truth that the resurrection can happen today, and you can be apart of it. Yet, is it impossible...what could it possibly mean to raise the dead?

Jesus Freak, was a breath of fresh air. For those stuck in their pew, like a spare player, a substitute waiting to get onto the field a play...this is the book. And for pastors, and churches wanting to make mission more than a program...to move it into the realm of everyday life...this is the book. In Sara Miles book we once again discover Jesus' truth that I have not left you alone, and empty. That Jesus has given us his words, and his power. That we would do greater things.

Places where you can purchase the book, you can connect here at the following (Links ). I highly recommend you put this on the top of your " To Read " list. Sara Miles, Jesus Freak, will inspire, and encourage you to live your faith boldly in the wide open spaces of everyday life.

the ebb and flow of the inner city...

In all life there is an ebb and flow. Circumstances of life are like a tidal force, that have the ability to change our personal landscapes. On the inner city streets the tides are dramatic, with mountainous highs, and cavernous lows. Every second Wednesday is a high tide, welfare cheques feed addictions and fill the wallets of dealers. Everyone seems to know the rhythm of the tides. Dealers know exactly when the high tide is, when cheques have been cashed and they wait for the bodies to wash ashore where they wait like beach combers. Even the police understand the ebb and flow of the inner city, their presence far more visible when the tide is high. Many might call it a sea of despair. But in the dramatic ebb and flow I see calm...I see hope.

We had a couple of new volunteers on Friday, ( M ) who suffers from schizophrenia and addiction has finally got his life back on track. He's received lots of help dealing with his problems, and would like to give a little back. He works as a janitor for a local restaurant in which his work day begins at 7:00 am. He's excited to have the job and a fresh start. But, he has a bit of a glitch. He commutes by bus from out in the Western Communities, and the issue is getting to work on the weekends. Bus schedules on weekends are notoriously bad, so it means he rides his bike, about 20 miles. Yes, he could take a cab, but making  $8.86 / hr...you do the math. He's got an ad on Craigslist, so if you know of anyone coming into town that early on the weekends, check it out.

Also a couple of young ladies who work with mental health ( D ) and ( T ), it was great to have someone with there experience.

CARTS = Christian Action Reflecting The Spirit, and on the street we move in the truth of that Spirit, and it moves in and around in the midst of everything, and everyone. It is dangerous, and it is exciting to live in that mysterious moment. Before we headed out on the street from the parking lot Al gathered everyone for prayer. There was a pause while we settled and out the silence came the voices of a couple of our street community friends, asking if they could pray. ( S ) prayed a prayer of thanksgiving, and gratefulness for what we had, and prayed for Godspeed among his friends. Another friend, intoxicated, could still find some clarity to pray for the lives we have received, to live life...and for freedom. Al, closed affirming the words of all our friends, and off we went on to the streets.

This night I was manning the cart with toques, mitts, gloves, scarves, and for the past week there has been a really bright red, almost Santa Claus red toque and scarf to be given out. Red does not appear to be a popular color on the street. So by the time we got down to Street Link some asked me if I had got rid of the red toque. " Nope ", I said, " no one wants them." Minutes later this old guy, maybe in his mid to late 70's comes over to me and asks, if I have a red toque. For sure, I thought one of my friends put him up to it. No, he seriously wants the red toque...and the scarf.

I have to tell you. Yes the guy has white hair and white beard. He tells me a story of when he was a bit younger, of when his hair was longer, and his beard was full. He used to wear a red jacket, and red toque he'd be sitting in the park while out walking, and kids would come over, want to hold his hand thinking he was Santa. We talked a little more, and Charon took our picture. I think I'll use it in my Christmas cards next year.

So on the inner city streets there is an ebb and flow of high and low tides in which we see the geography of personal lives change. But also in the midst of it all the Spirit moves in and around, in the midst of everything...touching people in ways in which we can't perceive. Jesus said, what ever you do for the least of these you do for me. I say hold your idea, your image of Jesus very loose and gentle, because he might shatter your shiny image. You just might meet Jesus on the street, he might even look like Santa.

text messaging...

( Image courtesy of photo shop text portrait )

Re-Text Us

We confess you to be
text-maker,
text-giver,
text-worker,
and we find ourselves addressed
by your making, giving, working.

So now we bid you, re-text us by your spirit.
Re-text us away from our shallow loves,
into your overwhelming gracefulness.
Re-text us away from our thin angers,
into your truth-telling freedom.
Re-text us away from our lean hopes,
into your tidal promises.

Give us attentive ears,
responsive hearts,
receiving hands;

Re-text us to be your liberated partners
in joy and obedience,
in risk and gratitude.
Re-text us by your word become wind. Amen.

Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth: Prayers of Walter Brueggemann

Thanks to J.R. Woodward

Prisoners...and mission

In three weeks we head over a play at two prisons in Mission, ( The Mission Institution and The Ferndale Institution ). Already, my freakin' mind is playing its games, distracting me like a persistent tap on the shoulder. And, of course the sarcastic whisper, that is more like wind trying to destroy and erode any confidence I might have. Yes I feel it and hear it,  tap tap tap, " psssst...you're not cut out for this, leave it for someone else. "

My mind is right. I'm not cut out for this, because really, I don't know shit. I can only imagine being locked up for years, life evolving around drug addiction, crime and violence. I can only imagine what their wounded pasts must have been like. At best, I relate to these things at an imaginary level. So yes, I'm a mix of emotion...anxious, scared and nervous. I'm not cut out, but I am going.

Because, I think mission is about " PRESENCE ", not just giving a " PRESENT ". I mean, I could or we could just send a care package with a letter. But I think mission has to be deeper, it needs to be both. I remember an opportunity a faith community I was a part of had, to start a breakfast club at a local school. It would have been an opportunity to feed some less fortunate kids, connect, build a relationship with kids in the community. It never happened, we sent a freezer to store food in. It opted for the PRESENT, without and PRESENCE.

We played at William Head Correctional Facility in July, and I had all the same feelings as mentioned above. I felt I was in over my head, but I went. I discovered what the PRESENCE part of mission is all about. We were packing up, and it was a chance to talk to some of the inmates for while. I met Dave. He's been in prison for 12 years, an indication his crime was serious. We talked about music, about family, about how he spent his day...and talked about what was going on outside the fence. Eventually, I asked Dave, when he thought he might get parole. " Maybe, a couple of years ", he said. I asked him what he hoped for?

Hope! I still have no idea why that popped out of my mouth...but, it did. He hoped to reconnect with his family. He hoped he would be a better person. He hoped he would fit back into society. It was then I could talk about a God of hope, about a God who is hoping for the same things he is. And we prayed for hope.

That is the PRESENCE of mission. Me, us just showing up to be a presence...and the presence of God weaving himself into the midst of it all. Really, I have no qualifications, most of us don't. But I think we walk into those places with that mustard seed of faith that Jesus spoke of and see what grows out it. Our minds will tell us, we're in over our heads. But truth tells us, Jesus tells us, he left us with a might counselor, a spirit of encouragement...that would give us his words to speak. Often, it happens that way.

All this, is to say...we real need to think about how we do, and be mission. All to often it comes down to nothing more than, " the cheque is in the mail."  It all to often is a PRESENT with out any PRESENCE. One can not avoid reading the gospels and see that it is about both. Missions has to be about both.

Anyways, if you've got a minute on the 31st of October, pray for us, that we would be both a PRESENT and PRESENCE.

contemplation...wisdom, faith and journey

I was talking to my daughter last evening and expressing how fall for me always seems to be a time of contemplation. There is the dramatic palette of colors, that the Artist splashes everywhere knowing shortly His canvas will be wiped clean, left empty until His creativity stirs again bringing life anew. There is the stark reality that the tree will be stripped bare, naked and exposed. The sun will fade, days becoming short and cold...energy to sustain will come from some where else. Seasons in nature seem to mirror seasons in life.

As religion can be filled with meaningful rituals, so can life. Each year a ritual in my life would be to trek into the mountains of Strathcona Park on Vancouver Island, with backpack, bible and journal...alone. This ritual always caused some anxiety for my wife. But I think she realized there was likely some repressed caveman gene from the hunter-gather age that clicked to the on position when the planets seemed to line up causing some weird gravitational pull. Some people go to monasteries, a secluded cell, I went into the wilderness.

No Cell phone, no radio, no GPS, no guide...a backpack, 3 days rations, tent, therma-rest, sleeping bag...topographical map, compass, bible and journal for direction. Growing up in the Scouting movement, and then a 10 year stint in the army ( PPCLI ), I feel very at home in the outdoors. Tangira would relate to this. I always feel such a profound sense of connectedness when I am in the wild of his creation. These words always come flooding into my mind;

We look at this Son and see the God who cannot be seen. We look at this Son and see God's original purpose in everything created. For everything, absolutely everything, above and below, visible and invisible, rank after rank after rank of angels—everything got started in him and finds its purpose in him. He was there before any of it came into existence and holds it all together right up to this moment.

He was supreme in the beginning and—leading the resurrection parade—he is supreme in the end. From beginning to end he's there, towering far above everything, everyone. So spacious is he, so roomy, that everything of God finds its proper place in him without crowding. Not only that, but all the broken and dislocated pieces of the universe—people and things, animals and atoms—get properly fixed and fit together in vibrant harmonies, all because of his death, his blood that poured down from the cross. ( Eugene Peterson's The Message )

I get a sense that redemption is microcosmic and galactic, that redemption is about every infinite speck of creation. If Christ holds it all together, if he is the glue that holds the fabric of life, that holds creation together...then we need to be thinking with the redemptive imagination of Jesus. Another thought. I'm not above creation. We are wound into the very fiber of creation. We remove ourselves from that reality, and we no longer exist.

Call me nuts, but I talk to birds, squirrels, deer, and frogs. We've had Pacific Tree Frog living in one of the pots on our deck. Every day, he climbs out and sits on the edge of the pot...like clock work, at about 9 in the morning. I call him Dexter. And, yes, I know it's a male by the markings on the throat. I figured if I was a frog, I'd like to be called Dexter. Anyways, I go out and say hello to Dexter every morning. He hasn't engaged in any conversation yet, but, that's not the point. It gives me a sense of connectedness. Dexter and I are wound into the fabric of God's creation. In a deep way, redemption and restoration are about Dexter's world also. Going out every morning and saying " Hi " to Dexter reinforces that truth.

The above image is from when I had just shot a compass bearing and was traversing across a ridge to get to Mt. Phillip. It was a gorgeous patch of mountain heather in full bloom. Look at the picture...there is something very striking. There is no soil, it is all rock. There was no path to lead anyone to it, to take in its beauty. It was a bearing on a compass, that unknowingly brought me to it. I sat for a long time, talking in the moment, the space and the beauty.

If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don't you think he'll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I'm trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God's giving. People who don't know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don't worry about missing out. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. ( Eugene Peterson's, The Message )

The Psalmist sang, that all creation glorifies The Lord. I wondered how many people had came upon that patch of Mountain Heather, or if I had come up a profound act of worship, creation glorifying the creator. Something very profound in Jesus' words, that if we didn't worship the stones would cry out. Had I witnessed beauty beyond words, rocks crying out?

One way one navigates travel in the high country is by cairns, or ebenezers,  ( It is usually transliterated as a proper name by dropping the definite article (Ha) from the Hebrew word for "help" (Ezer) and putting it together with the Hebrew word for "stone" (Even) to create: "Ebenezer."  An "Ebenezer" is, literally, a "Stone of Help.")  Because of the terrain, harsh climate, and not many travel in the high country, paths do not get worn into the landscape. Usually, initially someone shoots a bearing and heads of into the direction the needle points, and every so often creates an ebenezer to help future travelers. As one walks, you learn to scour the horizon looking for the stone of help. Loosing focus, and loosing track of these " Stones of Help ", one soon finds themsleves wandering, lost.

If it's one thing I've learned in this faith journey, it is, we need these stones of help. A faith journey is very much like traveling in the high country, we need to be conscious of those who have traveled its terrain before us. We need to glean from their wisdom, and if need be we need to restore some of the ancient wisdom, the stones of help that we've ignored and let fall. To navigate into the future we need it all, maps, compass, and ebenezers.

Yes, it's bold, it's cool, it's exciting and radical to head off in a new direction. But ignoring maps, compass and ebenezers is very dangerous. The wisdom of "one" does not sustain itself for very long.

Jesus, the man...and Kingdom theology

Do you ever wonder about Jesus the man? He was as human as you and I. And in the River Jordan, baptized by his wild cousin John, the Spirit of God fell on him, he was filled with the Spirit, affirmed and blessed as God's son. But he was as human as you and I. I wonder if his brain functioned like ours, if he thought about theology...if he had God thoughts. Or was he like a robot, wired and all thoughts relayed from a central control room in another galaxy or dimension.

The more we remove Jesus from the truth of his humanity...we loose what it is to be truly human. Jesus was consumed with humanity, and God...the Kingdom is their dwelling place.  We catch glimpses of the authenticity of Jesus here and there in the gospels. In the opening writings of Matthew, the Sermon on the Mount, we see Jesus advancing the truth of God's Kingdom, elevating us to that higher place where real life is found. It's not " Heaven ", that resort, that final resting place for believers only. We have access to God's Kingdom now. I truly believe, the Kingdom is as near as " we want it " to be.

The Kingdom Parables, their beauty, mystery and imagination, propel us into a new dimension, to grasp what life could be like outside the parameters that hold our lives captive. We see there, too, an idea of what God's Kingdom, his will, and dwelling place for humanity could look like...what it will be like. The Kingdom should fascinate us by it's new possibilities, of abundant life for all.

Observing Jesus as a human, makes me look at his foot prints amidst us, his path, how he engaged life. I think sometimes we can get so consumed in the worship of Jesus ( don't get me wrong, I'm not slamming worship ), he becomes no earthly good, and we become no earthly good. But, in observing his humanity we see him struggling with his own path in life, his relationship with God in the midst of the political and social problems of his day.

Think about this, as God, he could have snapped his fingers uttered an " Abracadabra ", eliminated all the social, political, religious issues instantaneously building the Kingdom.

But, he struggled the way we as, his followers should struggle to convince people of a vision of God's Kingdom here on earth, bring mercy, love, forgiveness, eliminating injustice...sweeping it all away bringing God's rule. He our God, and we his people. Jesus a struggling human meeting challenges and overcoming crises is more easily related to than a divine being who does not feel the contradictions and limitations of the human condition. Hopes, dreams, ambitions, successes, and failure...these are the fabric of being human...this too was Jesus.

In the Lord's prayer that Jesus taught his followers he shows us his humanity, his passion for God and humanity, and the Kingdom. Out of our mouths come the words, with out much thought, with out connection to heart, mind and soul. We need to see the imagination, and the vision Jesus saw in these words. The most important petition in this prayer is uttered first, " Your Kingdom Come." This reflects the priority Jesus had on this teaching. It is followed by a second petition having to do with making God's will manifest on earth as it already is in heaven: " Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven."

It's interesting how many Christians grapple with, what is God's will. I think Jesus revealed what God's will is for humanity in his incredible words throughout the Sermon on the Mount. The will of God encompasses a path of higher righteousness...not just a pious life of individual spirituality. It's a call to excellence in living, and the blessedness achievable through the actions and attitudes expressed in the opening verses of the Beatitudes...showing mercy, being hungry for righteousness, spiritual nourishment, striving for peace and love and a voice against injustice.

But the prayer also makes it clear the sphere of our actions is terrestrial...on earth. The Jesus who pitched his tent in the midst of humanity asks us to recognize we have a role to play, in working with God, to help establish his Kingdom by aligning our lives with his will, and establishing the conditions in which his conditions with flourish like the mustard seed.

It is not a prayer that leaves everything up to God. It is a partnership, we are heirs to the Kingdom...he calls us to be co-creators in building it. It offers an immense opportunity for followers, for the Church...to work to further God's Kingdom locally and globally. It is not a prayer that calls us to flee the world, to avoid the situations with which we are confronted, or to abandon urgent and current responsibilities toward the world by seeking refuge in a bus station awaiting some mass exit to an afterlife.

So, again, I wonder was Jesus like me, you, all of us...might he have wandered down a lonely trail like in Francis King Park, sit on a mossy hillside and look off into the distance...having God thoughts, thinking about what it is to be human, about the Kingdom...the place, the space where man and God dwell.

What do you think?

in our mustard seeds of faith...we can find the Kingdom

I love this quote from Ruth...

" I see what you and your friends are doing, and what you'll leave behind and I compare it to my little spark, cradled in my hand, being kept alive by the breath of the few of us who bend close enough blow on it. And I wish..."

I think often when we think of acts of faith and God's Kingdom, we think they have to be grandiose or we have built nothing. And often it's that mindset that keeps us from lighting a spark, or hammering a nail into something that others might join us in building.

Ruth talks about the spark being kept alive by a few blowing on the ember cradled in her hand. I know we have started building something small in a local first nations reserve. There are times when it looks like it's taking form. We stand back and admire it...admiring our work. But before we can start patting each other on the back, it falls apart. We discover how fragile, and how much work it takes to build the Kingdom...and it's not "us" that builds it. There are times you wonder if it's worth it, if it is not just an exercise in futility.

But we see things even in the midst of the rubble that are eternal that are being held together by this Cosmic Christ that is in and of all things. Kids living in the midst of alcoholism, poverty, broken families...smiling, laughing and joy...discovering for the first time...Hope. We see broken families, distant, unresolved issues coming together over meals, or coffee...talking getting to know one another again.

Again this is small. It really is one of those mustard seed acts of faith. It is such a tiny fragile seed. It must be handled with humility, grace and love. The big thing is to act...that little wobbly insecure step of faith. Remarkably we find our selves standing in the midst of " He " who is faithful.

Ruth's story is like that, of discovering God who is already there in the midst of his fallen, broken creation. She and her band were looking for a place to practice. Through the grape vine she heard of a motel that might have a room they might be able to use. They talked to the manager able to use the room for nothing. It was run down, no washroom, leaky brown stuff coming out of the ceiling. But they soon began to meet the people that lived in the motel, folks that were living below the poverty line, marginalized, and in reality...most found themselves from only steps away from living on the street. But a relationship was emerging...they started praying for them, talked about alternatives.

They started having pot luck dinners once a week, serving between 25 and 40 people. Since then their Dinner team has grown from 3 contributors to 12, including people who live there and people who don't.

They have church on Sunday mornings, with brunch once a month, and Dinner on Wednesdays and it's awesome.

This is the Little spark that Ruth cradles in her hands, that she and a few friends bend low to breathe on to keep alive. And in this little group, The Spirit of God breathes. It might not seem like much, but if we have the eyes to see, we will see the Kingdom...we will see Jesus.

There are big and great things happening, but Jesus especially wanted to make us aware of the mustard seed. That this tiny seed if planted, and nurtured and loved, will grow into a great tree.

Maybe, in your pocket...is a mustard seed?

the loneliness of...pain, sorrow and suffering

I have always struggled with pain and suffering, the thought that God is always with you in the midst of it. The words, " he will never leave you or fore sake you ", that we toss in the direction of those whose world lays in rubble around their feet.

I think there are times on the grand stage of life, when a crisis of pain and suffering happen and the director/producer seem to have left the scene. The camera is left running. There is no one to explain what just happened, why it happened...or how the rest of the story will evolve. It's a freeze frame moment. You are stunned. Life's breath seems to have been sucked out of you. The hard drive in your head whirls frantically, trying to compute to make sense out of anything. In your free fall, you search for anything to hang on to.

I understand the concept of God being the great " I am ", the beginning, the end and every thing in between. But, there are times, when...you are on stage alone.

The Psalmist muses, All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."

What does that mean?

Did God have script already written for me stashed away in the heavenly archives filed under the " R's "?Did he pull it out during that night of lust, on a cold 1952 December night in Whitehorse when Wally and Eleanor were getting down to business? Did God yell, " Action ", and I prepared to enter the stage of life.

Did it unfold as initially written? Or is the script being edited as the act of living my life unfolds?

Can I proclaim with the certitude of the Psalmist, or do I imagine something else?

In the summer of 1996 my youngest brother a diabetic, home alone in his apartment had an insulin reaction that escalated rapidly out of control...he ended up dying, only three feet away from the syringe and insulin that could have saved his life. He would not be found until three days later.

Was this the script that was written by a grand director/ producer, that my brother, a character in this incredible story of life was to unknowingly act out in his brief moment on stage. Did God really write all this out: create character; male; genetic illness, diabetes; triggered into action late 20's; male character dies early 30's three feet from medication that could save him; character exits stage, scene over...over all story continues?

Enter, pain and suffering...my world lay in rubble at my feet. As if hit by the wind of a hurricane, my well constructed faith was scattered debris in all directions. And the director, where was he/she...suddenly the stage, the theater was empty. The lights had been turned out, not even an " exit " light illuminated a path for escape. I was alone...utterly alone.

" I will never leave you or fore sake you ", " all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be" Where was the director, and who would write such a bizarre sick script and expect us to faithfully act it out. For months I tried to digest the above words. They only added to my pain and suffering, they tormented me. I had so many questions. I wept, I screamed into the depth of the darkness that seemed to be swallowing me. I heard nothing...nothing, not even a whisper.

It seemed the only person I could relate to was Job. If the script I was living out was shit, Job's script was absolutely insane. Just when things couldn't possibly get any worse, they got worse. And Job had questions. If there was a script, he wanted answers...why!!!

But what pissed me off was, Job did finally get to question God. But in an even more bizarre twist, Job's why questions were thrown back to him with more questions from God. So in the end, did Job fair better than me? Sure he was restored, life returned to normal...even better than normal, but there really was no answer to his pain and suffering. About the only thing Job could say with certitude was God is God. That some how he is the beginning, the end and everything in between. But as to how it all works, how the script comes into play...the actors, the scenes, pain, tragedy and suffering...still so many questions.

For months, I embraced my pain, suffering, sorrow. It was breakfast, lunch and dinner. I lived in the midst of an emotional storm of anger. I came to realize my well constructed faith is fragile, something to be held lightly, and that in pain, sorrow and loss it sometimes breaks. In the end, I pick up pieces, not all the pieces...and I learn to live with new faith.

I believe there are times when we are alone. I believe there is a script to my life, but that it is a script of such imagination that I will never understand it...at least not here, on the stage in which I act out my part.

Pain, suffering and sorrow, are they pre-written into the intimate scripts of our lives? I don't think so. But they are a reality of everyday life. They torment us, and haunt us with never ending questions that we very seldom find answers to. They test faith, reconfigure, and reconstruct faith. And in the end, we likely find like Job did...God is truly God, miraculously he is the beginning, and the end...and everything in between.

street poet... ( Mustard Seed...more than a food bank, this Sunday )

Gratitude

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life.

It turns what we have into enough.

And more!

It turns denial into acceptance.

Chaos into order.

Confusion into clarity.

It can turn a meal into a feast.

A stranger into a friend.

Gratitude makes sense of our past.

It brings peace for today,

and creates a vision,

For a better tomorrow.

by Al Kirkwood...poet, dumpster diver, Victoria BC.

Most will not even heard of the name Al Kirkwood, let alone even seen his face. Like his poetry, Al is unrefined, rough around the edges. The lines in his face look like they have been etched with a chisel, a road map revealing the many years of living rough on the street. Rough on the street, is an alley way, a storefront door way, under the blue bridge...your bag of earthly belongings your pillow, the sidewalk your bed mat. Al does have a routine to his life, he dumpster dives, recycles, sells what he finds and unbelievable, manages to even give some away to those in worse shape.

Al's a saint, with a love for Jesus...and alcohol. He does walk a narrow path, with deep ditches on each side that he tends to fall into from time to time. He is one of the most spiritual people I've met, he practices a kind of monasticism that baffles me.

The first time I met Al was down at The Seed. As our conversation unraveled, Al talked about writing and pulled open his back pack. It was filled with his life, not things...but words. There were note pads of all sizes, scraps of paper, napkins, pencils and pens. They were filled words, the mind, the heart and spirit of Al Kirkwood. Al spends literally most of his day writing poetry and short stories about life on the street, Jesus, God...alcohol, drugs, poverty...very raw. You might even call them, the Street Psalms, as there is dispair, sin, betrayal, pain, suffering, but there is also grace, redemption and hope.

Over the past year, with the help of friends, they've been typing out Al's words, trying to leave them as close to his as possible, with the hope they might be published.

Anyways we're hoping ( fingers crossed ) that Al will come to read his poetry for the benefit Sunday evening for the Mustard Seed. I say, fingers crossed because, remember the path with big ditches on each side...one never knows. Anyways, if Al doesn't show the honor falls upon me to read his words, and I don't say that lightly. To read the words of a poet, is read something that is deeply apart of them...most of Al's words come from a place I've never been.

So as I said above, there is a Mustard Seed benefit fundraiser this Sunday...here's the details.

The Mustard Seed...more than a food bank

Sunday February 22nd from 6:30pm til 8:30pm

Saanichton Bible Fellowship

( church ph.#- (250)-652-6311 or 652-6344 )

2159 Mt. Newton X-Rd.

Saanichton, BC

( Map )

For contact info: John and Gail Bones (250)-652-4002

The Mustard Seed...more than a Food Bank " An evening on awareness of what the Mustard Seed is all about. Stories, faces and places around the many diverse ministries of The Mustard Seed Church, an inner city church in the heart of Victoria. Into the evening we’ll weave the blues, alternative folk, poetry and more.

Cost: donation, all proceeds to the Mustard Seed Ministries