June 2007

I began reading through James again. This time it’s in preparation to teach it with our youth group. I didn’t get very far before my mind was hijacked and I’m hung up on a concept.

James begins with this note: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds�

Wait, what? I’m supposed to be joyful whenever I go through times of trial and testing?

That doesn’t sound right.

I can’t say that there’s ever been a test, of any kind, that didn’t make me nervous or sweaty. Going into my geography final exam in university was the worst. My hands were so sweaty I could barely grip my pencil. If I passed I’d graduate. If I failed I didn’t, and then would have to begin looking at a school to transfer to because mine was closing for good.

I was so uneasy about it.

I would have been far more comfortable if there wasn’t so much at stake.

It would have been really nice if James did that for us. If he had written that trials are pure joy then told us all the reason we don’t need to worry during them.

Instead James goes on to inform his readers that if you fail you will die. He writes: “each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and entice. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death.� Such is the way of the dark side. (I sometimes think James was the inspiration for Yoda.)

James is freaking me out here. If I fail the trials, if I cave into temptation, I will die. That’s not going to help the ulcer.

So how am I supposed to be able to consider trials of many kinds pure joy?

James proposes that we consider them joy because they produce perseverance.

Oh, they pay off in the end.

Anyone out there ever found that line of reasoning comforting: the idea that now’s bad but it will get better eventually, just be patient?

Then again, what is perseverance? It’s only the ability to endure hardships. Doesn’t that sound like something to get excited about? I’ll get perseverance through trials so that I’ll be able to find future trials more bearable. The idea of future trials does not sound good, especially when you’re in the middle of brutally painful ones.

Perhaps I’m misunderstanding perseverance.

It struck me today that it can only be pure joy to face trials of many kinds when I know that I can and will win.

That geography test years ago would have been sweat free if I knew I was going to pass: if I knew that studying was going to pay off. I would have walked in head held high if I knew that victory was imminent.

Perhaps that is perseverance. Perhaps perseverance knows that we will be victorious. And knowing that we will be victorious comes from knowing that we aren’t doing the test alone. We have help, a life line, a phone a friend, and that friend is the one who created everything.

Hopefully next time I’m in the middle of a trial I’ll remember that I’m able to pass the test because God himself is with me.

I mowed my lawn yesterday. Well, I’m not sure if you can call it lawn. I have a delicate mixture going of about 39% grass, 42% weeds (92% dandelion 8% unknown weed substance), 15% moss, and 4% unknown biological material.

I attacked it head on yesterday with my parent’s lawnmower. (Yes the same one I frequently take for a walk.) So that’s hardly headline news, but bear with me.

Usually I enjoy mowing. It’s about the manliest thing I do: well, next to barbequing. I enjoy filling the gas tank on the mower making sure to get just the right amount on myself so that everyone knows I was out working in the “fields.� I enjoy cutting swaths in such a manner as to leave those nice lines across the grass. It’s like vacuuming the outdoors. And then there’s the smell. The smell makes it all worth it. I’m sure you know that fresh cut crass smell. It’s heavenly.

Mowing is just good old fashioned make you sweat manly work. I love it.

Yesterday, however, I found myself lacking my usual fondness of this chore. I found myself having to watch my step even more carefully. I found myself tiptoeing across a battlefield. I must have somehow, with the firing of the engine, transported myself to a war zone far away. How else could I account for the land mines everywhere?

By “landmines� I, of course, mean piles of dog poop, and by “everywhere� I mean that in my small yard there were many. I say “many� because I lost count. Truthfully, with my short attention span I lost track around 11 or 12 or 13.

I live in an area just outside of town where rules about dogs being on leashes are relaxed. By relaxed I mean there aren’t any. (For more on my neighbourhood see the posting “Odd Sights in Errington.�

Now there’s only one dog that I see wondering around near our house. And this poop seemed to be no more than a week and a half old. This got me thinking that this one dog probably uses my yard exclusively. How does a dog get that in their head?

There are plenty of nice yards he could use; my neighbour’s yard has even nicer grass than mine. I think that if I was a dog I would choose the nicer grass. It’s like choosing nicer toilet paper. My yard is like the one ply. Who would choose one ply when three ply is just as available?

My thought’s quickly turned on my neighbour the dog owner. Did he train, or command, his dog to use my yard? Did I do something to offend or anger him? How am I going to get him back? Do I have a large enough paper bag to hold all of this stuff so that I can leave a flaming bag of his own dog’s poop on his doorstep?

It amazes me how God doesn’t let me get away with these sorts of thoughts. My mind was quickly flooded with scripture reminding me that I’m to love my neighbour. And suddenly the psalmist’s words: “I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you� (psalm 119:11) began to ring true. Although I’m thankful for this now, at the time I was a bit annoyed.

I had a decision to make: to sin or not to sin. I knew it would be sin to continue thinking thoughts of bitterness against my neighbour. This idea was fresh in my mind having just taught it with my students the day before. So I had to change my thinking.

And now I need some clarification: when God said “love your neighbour as yourself� did He mean your neighbour’s dog too?

Sometimes it seems to me there are people in the world who do a better job of being Christians than those in the church. They feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless, and generally do a better job of caring for the poor and oppressed: the things Jesus says that when done are done to Him.

Then I read 3 John 11 which says: “Anyone who does what is good is from God.� John puts it a bit different in 1 John 2:29: “If you know that He is righteous, you know that everyone who does what is right has been born of Him.� Is it possible there are a lot of people out there who know God better than they think? Is it possible that anytime someone decides to do something to help another person they are an agent doing the Lord’s work? Even if they deny His existence?

Would they be disappointed by this, this learning that they are pleasing God?

I’m even beginning to wonder if, in some cases, God has grown disappointed with the churches that do very little, or nothing even, and has then gone about using others to care for those whom He loves dearly. Are we Christians who do little for the poor forcing God to find an alternative way of caring for those in need?

I’d love some feedback on this as I sort out my own opinions.

I found myself faced with an unusual challenge last week. It was one that proved to be impossible.

I was trying to find a bottle opener in my church’s kitchen. I’ve been attending this church for 28 and a half years. I love this church. It’s a baptist church and that suits me just fine. Our kitchen is an important to the life of our church.

I was under the impression that our church kitchen was stocked with everything one could ever need in the service of our Lord. Friday I needed a bottle opener for our youth event. I searched every drawer. I found all sorts of things I didn’t recognize, but no bottle opener.

I got to thinking that maybe this shouldn’t be all that surprising. Perhaps I should have known that there wouldn’t be a bottle opener. After all, I can’t recall a time when a bottle was ever opened in this place.

Has anyone ever found a bottle opener in a Baptist church?

Is our church a rare oddity?

Now I’m just scratching my head.

Oh, it should be stated, in case one of my elders or deacons happens to read this, that bottle opener was used to open sparkling apple juice. That’s all. I have witnesses.

Skip Fry once said about surfing: “I love everything about it, especially the colours made by the mixing of the sun and water. I guess you could say that I go to the ocean to see God.�(1)

Again, as you can see, my thoughts have turned to surfing. There is so much beauty in the ocean, and the beach. There’s more beauty than the eyes alone can take in. The nose, tongue, ears, and skin are all necessary to absorb it.

This leads me to an important question: where do you find God? Or to personalize it, where do I find God?

I often find that God seems closest when I’m properly enjoying His creation. The other night Sheena and I snuck away to the beach to take in the sunset. It was a beautiful sight. How could I not praise God while seeing beauty painted across the sky and holding the one He made for me in my arms?

It can be so easy to see God in the things that are beautiful, and enjoyable: the things that are all around good. Everyone needs those places where God is noticeably near.

However, what if we find ourselves one day not able to find God where we usually do? What if you’ve entered a season void of beauty and enjoyment: where everything seems dull and lifeless? Does the absence of beauty mean that God is further? Is there ever a time when nothing is good?

I wonder if these two scenarios (God seeming closer in the good and further in the bad) simply point to our misusing God.

In his book Praise Habit, David Crowder writes: “I used to think I knew where to find God. He seemed to always be where I put Him last.�(2)

Have I done this? Do I stick God in a cupboard, or leave Him on the beach so that I can easily find Him at my convenience? Do I treat God like I do my car keys?

I’d hate to miss out on real closeness with God because I never learned to see Him at all times and only find Him close in moments when all is well.

David Crowder went on to write a bit later: “In a small, decisive moment I was aware of what was good and took effort to peel away what wasn’t and in the process became re-enamored with the giver of good. … The consequences of this discovery where huge. If He was in a sandwich where else could He be found?�(3)

I hope I’ll continue to go to the beach and find God. However, it would be far greater to see God in all things so I’m not going to leave it at that. I’m looking for the good and the giver of good in all things.

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1. Skip Frye Surfer Magazine 1955
2. David Crowder, Praise Habit: Finding God in Sunsets and Sushi, 2004 p. 11
3. Ibid. p. 13