March 2007

Last night our Jr. High boys gathered for a Bible study. We were discussing the story of Noah and his family coming out of the ark. Specifically it was a discussion on promises, and the promises that God makes.

The rainbow was a huge part of that discussion. One grade 7 student then had a burning question: “Does that make Skittles holy?�

I told him I’d have to look into it.

Trust Jr. High boys to take nothing seriously. Well, nothing but the game of hockey that broke out after the “study.�

Then again, why shouldn’t we see the greatness of God even in a pack of Skittles? If Skittles cause you to praise God and reflect on His greatness, then I say: “Hallelujah! Taste the Rainbow.�

We’ve got a woodpecker.

The past couple days I’ve walked into the church with a distinct soundtrack. I love the sounds of spring. The birds are chirping. Baby bunnies are eating my garden. The breeze is blowing cherry blossoms like pink snowflakes all around. And when the city is quiet you can almost hear the flowers blooming. These are all lovely sounds, even though I could do without the bunnies.

It seems that nature comes alive in the spring and begins singing. Its song is a song of praise to its creator.

However, we’ve got an anomaly.

We’ve got a woodpecker playing a different tune. This woodpecker is atop the aluminum cross on my church doing the usual sorts of things woodpeckers do, but it’s all wrong. The usually rat-a-tat-tat of the woodpecker isn’t supposed to echo through a hollow aluminum cross. This is all wrong.

Yet the scene seemed eerily familiar. Didn’t Woody Woodpecker do something like this? Only instead of drilling into a cross wasn’t it a pole? And didn’t his beak get all squished?

I’m now wondering if there’s a way to get a message to this woodpecker so that he doesn’t end up with a squished beak.

“Hey buddy, there are no bugs in a metal pole! You’re making a big mistake.�

If you haven’t read the short story Taylor’s Troubles I suggest you read it first as this is a response to that. I apologize up front for making you read such a poor attempt at literary brilliance, but then again if you’re a returning visitor to this column you should be used to that by now.

Towards the end of last week I was reading verses in the New Testament relating to prayer. I’m on a personal quest to become a better prayer [1] .

My thoughts couldn’t help but linger on a verse in Matthew. Jesus said “If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.�[2]

After much meditating on this verse, the story of Taylor came to mind. I think that sometimes, okay sometimes often, we treat God the way Taylor treated his mother.

It’s not hard for us to figure out what we want. Then we go after it sometimes without asking. I know that in my life I’ve even thought that I wouldn’t want to bother God with something so trivial. I’d even wonder why include God in a matter that I can take care of?

I wonder if God feels cheated when we take for ourselves without giving Him the opportunity to lavish gifts on us.

I’m convinced that when Jesus said: “If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.� He never intended that we’d stop praying. He never intended that we’d help ourselves. His intention was expect great things from God, don’t handle life on your own.

Jesus example of prayer included a request for the simple daily nescessities. He said ask for food. That’s something many of us can provide for ourselves, yet we’re still supposed to bring the matter before God.

This leaves me overwhelmingly convinced of one simple, yet overlooked truth:

God wants to be “bothered.�

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[1] I was also in a situation where I was supposed to be teaching students how to pray. While the quest for knowledge was personal I also didn’t want to look foolish in front of fifty people.

[2] Matthew 6:22 NIV

On his way out of the kitchen the little boy darted past his mom. He moved quickly, not because that’s how most six year olds move, but because he saw the narrow opening between his mom’s leg and the door frame closing quickly and had to be fast to make it through. In his mind this was all part of the fun and challenge. He had raided the cookie jar and now was attempting a narrow escape. The opening of the cave was closing and he did not want to be trapped inside, buried beneath a pile of rubble. He knew before hand that stealing a cookie would be a risky and dangerous undertaking. However, he also knew that if he made it, the reward would be great.

His mom paused a moment then turned to follow him with her eyes. His destination was just at the other end of the hall. Moments before she had walked past the mess her son had made in the living room. She was not a fan of rainy days. While the world outside would be washed clean her world inside would be tossed by hurricane Taylor.

She must have given him a bit of a dirty look because he suddenly got uneasy. Feeling a bit guilty, and unsure why his mother looked at him that way, he decided to come clean. “Thanks for the cookie mom!� He said now already back on the couch with the game controller in hand.

“What cookie?�

She, of course, wasn’t asking because there was a plethora of cookies for him to choose from, but because she didn’t recall authorizing any cookie consumption.

In six year old fashion, and thinking that the visual would answer him mom’s question, he opened his mouth to reveal the remnants of the cookie he escaped with from the kitchen. His actions, of course, did nothing to answer what she really wanted to know. She tried again. “Taylor, why are you eating a cookie?�

“Because they’re yummy, why else would anyone eat a cookie?� While not saying it, he couldn’t help but think, duh.

Her question still wasn’t answered.

“Taylor, did I say you could have a cookie?�

Fortunately Taylor was a quick thinker. He knew instantly that if he didn’t have a winner of a response he wouldn’t be eating any more cookies for a long time. He was struggling with his opening line. He knew that an opening line could make or break him. He considered beginning with “It depends on which instance you’re thinking about.� But he couldn’t see where to go after that.

All sorts of thoughts were buzzing around his brain rather quickly, for by now he was experiencing quite a nice sugar high.

He had been experiencing good fortune lately with simply opening his mouth and letting words fall out. He decided to go with that once again.

“Mom, you’re an amazing mother. You do so much for me. You are such a busy woman that I didn’t want to take up any of your time to ask you for something that I was certain you’d give me anyways. Certainly a mother as good as you wouldn’t deny her one and only son good things. I thought I was doing you a favour by not bothering you with such trivial matters. Have I told you yet today how beautiful you are?�

He began internally patting himself on the back for such a brilliant response. Or so he thought.

I couldn’t sleep last night. Well that’s not entirely true. I slept, just not nearly as much as I would have liked. There was a large gap in my sleep from 2:27am to just before 5am where I was awake. I was awake and in discomfort.

You know how the evening news shows satellite pictures of weather systems churning off the coast. It felt like that was going on inside of me.

I think there was a weather system churning in my belly.

I’m calling it Hurricane Ding Ho.

I’m not certain that there is any connection between what I’m about to write, and my inability to sleep, but I suspect there is.

Last night I ate Chinese food for dinner. It wasn’t bad Chinese food. If only that was the problem. I think that the real problem was that it was good Chinese food: too good. The calamari was amazing, as was the lemon chicken, and the Szechwan beef, and the garlic butter prawns. Oh, they were all so yummy.

I took a student out and we attempted the “all you can eat� side of things. Big mistake.

I don’t know why it took me to 4:30am to come to that realization, but it did.

There I was churning in my bed, trying desperately not to wake my wife who had to wake up at 5:20 and go to work. Yet at the same time I could not sleep. I tried so hard to sleep. I went through every routine that should have put me back into the blissful R.E.M. that I so deeply desired. Nothing worked.

They say that hindsight is 20/20 yet I know that I’ll once again be back dining on the succulent Szechwan. One day down the road I’ll be in the same situation, for while hindsight is 20/20 temptation has a way of inhibiting the memory.

I woke up this morning with a weird question on my mind and I’m hoping someone out there could help me answer it.

Could a Jedi use the force to clear up an acne problem?

Could a Jedi look himself in the mirror and say, “You will be blemish free� then instantly have their face clear up?

“A Man’s worries are determined by the number of keys in his pockets. Surfers don’t have pockets.� – Shirley (Church) Richards.

This supreme lack of pockets is actually something that’s always bothered me about board shorts. This makes them so hard to wear out in public. I get out of my car and I’ve got my phone, wallet, and often two sets of keys with no were to put any of that stuff.

It’s almost enough to get me carrying a purse.

Almost enough. It’s not enough, just almost enough. I just want to make sure that’s abundantly clear.

It’s never, until last night, occurred to me that maybe I’m carrying too much stuff with me wherever I go. Why do I carry two sets of keys when I’m only likely to use two of them? Why do I carry my whole wallet when I will only need two pieces of plastic? Why can’t I leave the phone and deal with any calls that come when I get back to it?

This morning it occurred to me that this problem of carrying too much stuff goes beyond the contents of my pockets. I carry so much stuff around with me wherever I go. I’ll carry job burdens, financial burdens, and what to get my wife for her birthday burdens, just to name a few.

I’m convinced I’m not alone in this.

I think people are stuff carriers. Habitual stuff carriers who pack everything wherever we go.

It might be excusable, based on concerns of theft, to carry the valuables such as keys and wallets with us when we go into a store, but why are we carrying all that other baggage with us too? That’s what I don’t seem to get. Why do I think I need to carry that stuff? Why do we think we have to carry those other things?

Wouldn’t it be great if we had a pocket, and once it was full that’s it. We don’t carry any more than what will fit in that one pocket.

The problem is that we go out and find the biggest pocket we can find. Because something tells us that we have to. We have to carry this.

That’s what I’m struggling to understand. Why can’t we just say no? “No, I’m not going to carry that worry. No, I’m not going to be burdened by that.�

What is it inside us that makes us think we have to carry all that stuff?

The funny thing is that I’m constantly striving for a simpler life. I think that I can burden myself with all these worries and stuff and still live a simple life.

Why is it that when our pockets are full, instead of getting help empting out our pockets, we change into pants that have more pockets?

I’m not a coffee fan. Well, I’m not a fan of plain ordinary coffee. It just doesn’t really do anything for me. Maybe I drank too much puddle water as a little kid, but I’m not really sure. Drinking lots of puddle water, either accidentally or by force, I think would put me off of coffee.

Yet I love Starbucks. Certainly not for the Americano, but for all the other drinks they offer. The Latte’s, Mocha’s, Chi Tea anything’s and the like are amazing.

If Starbucks just sold plain, ordinary coffee I wouldn’t be a fan. I’d never go there.

Today our church is sending a team off to Mexico for Spring Break. There will be thirteen people gone for thirteen days: thirteen different personalities, interests, and abilities packed into close proximity and trying scenarios. It’s almost inevitable that at some point some of them won’t get along.

Tension is a characteristic of most teams. Throwing a handful of very different people into a stressful situation such as a cross cultural experience is a formula for tension. It’s the whole premise of the show survivor. It’s why people even bother to watch.

It’s when times get tough working with others that we need to think of Starbucks.

Some members on the team will be more suited to reach certain individuals. Like one who prefers their coffee black, they will be drawn to a certain individual. To reach the masses all types of people are needed.

The Mocha’s could tell the Latte’s to take a hike, and try and squeeze them off the menu, but the Latte’s are needed to reach the latte lovers.

I’m sure most of us will struggle to work with a certain individual at some point in our lives. I hope when we struggle to appreciate others we remember that they are needed. I hope we will try and remember how boring life would be without them.

As a Starbucks with just black coffee wouldn’t suffice, so life without all sorts of personalities won’t do either.

Mark Foo once said: “If you want the ultimate thrill, you’ve got to be willing to pay the ultimate price.�1

I read that quote today while reading the short book “Surfing and the Meaning of Life.� I’ve been thinking about surfing a lot lately. I’ve been dreaming about it lots too. I like dreaming about surfing because I’m a far better surfer in my dreams than I am in real life.

This quote really jumped off the pages at me today. Partially, I think, because in my dream last night I was big wave surfing, but mostly because it got me thinking about the “ultimate thrill� and what I think that would be.

Oddly enough, I don’t think it’s surfing.

For me the ultimate thrill will be hearing my God, and my creator, telling me when we meet face to face that I did well here on earth. It will be hearing those words, “Well done good and faithful servant.�

Okay, so maybe He won’t use those exact words. However, I’m excited by the prospect, and the idea that He likes what I’m doing. What a rush that God knows what I’m up to and even likes it.

It would be far too warm and fuzzy a thought to leave just thinking about what thrills us. This is a note of instruction. Ultimate thrills come at a cost. We’re not going to get the ultimate thrill without being willing to pay the ultimate price.

Mark Foo went on to drown while surfing really big waves in December, 1994.

He went out pursuing his ultimate thrill.

I can’t help but wonder how many of us can picture the ultimate thrill, yet never achieve it because we aren’t willing to do what it takes. When we determine that the ultimate thrill is potentially too costly, we back down and settle for the second, or even third, greatest thrill.

If your greatest thrill is like mine what’s stopping you?

The Bible is clear that everything we have is the Lord’s, including our lives, so what have we got to lose?

If we have nothing, we have nothing to lose.

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[1] Quoted in Ben Marcus “Surfing and the Meaning of Life� 2006 Voyager press p. 83

Well, yesterday I resigned from the post office. I am now no longer a postie. I’ve traded in my mail man shorts. I don’t yet know what I’m getting in return, but the shorts are gone.

I was a temporary letter carrier for six years. What a weird six years. I mean, the post office is such a bizarre place to work. It’s bizarre yet wonderful all at the same time. Perhaps that’s what’s so bizarre about it.

Working in “Postie Land,� as I like to call it, is so different from working in the real world. Of all the jobs I’ve had, it’s only been with the post office that I could have been fired for starting early, and gone unpunished for starting late.

One day I could be a hero to the masses delivering packages from loved ones or money from the government. Then the next day I’d be public enemy #1 for delivering tax notices. I think the phrase “don’t shoot the messenger� was coined by a mail man, but perhaps that’s another article.

I have many fond memories from my mail man days. I’ll probably never forget the cat that tried to attack me from behind the window, or the screen door lady, or the day the seam of my shorts exploded and I accidentally flashed numerous people before I realized it, or the day a fellow letter carrier had to deliver rotting salmon to one address, or the ticking vibrating package that went through the office. Hmm, perhaps I should write out a list of some of the more bizarre things I saw go through the station.

Yes there are many wonderful memories of bizarre moments. I’ll probably never be able to look at an SLB the same way again.

Of course this is all coming from a guy who took a huge pay cut to pursue a job that now has him sorting all the marshmallows out of Lucky Charms. Oh, and then there’s the bed pan thing. Let’s not forget the bed pan thing.

An interesting thing happened to me the other day. A guy came to my door and asked me to do something simple yet something I didn’t want to do. I was about to make a case for him to leave me alone when he exclaimed: “Oh, I know you, you’re that preacher: the youth pastor.�

I was busted.

I was found out.

This guy, while not employing the proper terminology, knew what I did, who I was, and what I was supposed to be standing for.

Suddenly I had nothing to say except, “I’ll get right on that for you.�

This guy knew me as a herald of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. He knew me as one who is supposed to be spreading, through words and deeds, a message of the love God has for everyone.

It’s really hard to communicate love when you’re slamming the door in a guys face. I could not tell this guy to get lost and leave me alone and still communicate love. I had to comply if I was going to be the preacher God wants me to be.

This got me thinking about how we’re known. Okay, it really got me thinking about how I am known, and then I got thinking about the “we� as in Christians.

As much as we can try and hide, it is nearly impossible to be unknown. Now and then our identities will be found out. Now and then people, who we don’t even know, will think they know us.

But what will they know?

Will they come to know our true identities as people rooted in Christ’s love, or will they see something else?

What would I have communicated about God if I had been rude to this guy? I would have communicated that Christians are nothing different than ordinary people. I would have communicated that God’s love makes no difference.

Not to sound all “big brother� but eyes are upon us. People are watching to see how we act.

Do we live up to the hype?

Are we true to the name of Christ?