Grandpa Stuff

We traveled today to see our grandkids and their parents (of course). Well, two out of three anyway. Damian and his little sister, Rowynne live in one city and their cousin, Colson lives with hsi parents in another.
When I was small we traveled to see family all of the time. Every four years was the trip to Ontario to see my mother's parents and her sister and her family. On an alternating four year schedule folks from Ontario would come to see us - so every 2 years we saw cousins, an aunt and uncle and grandparents.
my father's family was in Alberta, but much less organized. We saw them more, but it felt like it was almost by chance. At the very least, when things were convenient and schedules aligned we saw my dad's much bigger family.
It always intrigued me how we seemed to feel closer to the Ontario arm of the family as opposed to the Alberta clan. I think it had something to do with the intentionality of our visits. We could see the Munro clan almost anytime - but we didn't. It was hard to see the James clan, but we made the effort.
Susie and I made the effort today, and our son and daughter-in-law and their kids were really excited to see us. Well, OK, I have to admit that Rowynne still plays shy with me in person. She blows me kisses and fist bumps me online when we Skype, but she is much more demure in the flesh.
But we are being intentional. And that is the point, I think, To make sacrifices. To travel. To sleep in strange beds.To gather oneself up and go.
I am often challenged in keeping my relationships fresh and vibrant - my relationship with the Lord most of all. It shouldn't be hard. He is here always. I am a word away. A click of my phone to "off". A closing of my laptop. Turning off the TV and stereo and He is there all at once. And, so often, I ignore the availability and ease of keeping that relationship close, vibrant and rich.
I'll drive across the province or across the country to see my grandkids. Lord help me! So often I won't go to my knees to be with you.

Shalom

Prayer Retreat

Once a month it will be my practice to take a day for prayer and reflection.  On June 1 I traveled to the Cypress Hills Inter-Provincial Park in Saskatchewan, near Maple Creek.  The following is my journal reflection from that journey and time.

(written after arriving in Cypress Hills)

I could hear birds, crickets, gophers(?) even as I drove with the windows down and the wind rushing through the car.  No phone, no radio, no music – except in my head (Blessed Be Your Name; How Great Thou Art; I Love You Lord… maybe a couple of others).

The passage from Ecclesiastes (9:1-17 – Death Comes to All) stood in my mind in stark contrast to the burgeoning springtime landscape flowing by all around me.  I set the cruise control for a leisurely 110KPH – much more sedate a pace than I normally travel at I must confess.

Life is happening all about me even though death does loom.  Cows mow the grass on hills to my left and right.  Crows pick the fresh gopher carcasses on the road.  Hawks ride the young thermals of the morning in anticipation of them growing in the days’ building heat.  They hunt for the living below, alive in their predatory splendour.

Between choruses in my head I ask God for nothing except mercy and forgiveness.  I lapse into reciting “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, Who Was, and Is and Is To Come” or “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner”.  All other thoughts melt away.  I don’t even have to push.  Only one stray though encroaches – a memory of Perry Cherneski who passed away three years ago this July.  We sang “Blessed Be Your Name” at his funeral.  I mourn once more and find God is faithful to His promise for I am comforted.  I feel the Lord is very near.

I leave the highway and begin the climb into the hills adjusting my pace even slower.  The cattle I pass now are lying in their fields, content to chew the cud of their morning foraging.  I am content too.  The journey has washed my daily cares away.

I sit alone by the north end of the lake.  The rushing wind of travel has been replaced by the gentler rush of water flowing out of the lake and down the draw across the road behind me.  The air is still, a gentle breeze at best dances around the trees and across the lake.

A fish jumps to my right, near the reeds by the shore.  The splash sends ripples outward.  At one point they seem to stop progressing and simply become part of the surface texture of this portion of the lake.  We miss so many details when we do not take time to watch, to observe, to see.  The fish will jump three more times in the hour to come, setting a base rhythm to the events that unfold.

I think about the blind man in the passage in John 9.  I re-read the whole event, from miracle to Christ rebuking the Pharisees.  I try to imagine seeing for the first time ever.  I try to imagine being continuously blind spiritually like the Pharisees.

“Where am I blind?” I ask God.  It is the first question I have asked Him since I started.  I notice three families of Canada geese swimming slowly up the lake toward me.  One parent leads each group of goslings.  One parent follows close behind.  “You hem me in before and behind and on every side.”

Every few yards the families take to the shore for a while.  At first I think they have returned to their nests, but when they return to the water and continue on I am intrigued.  Eventually they come ashore only a few yards from me.  They are foraging for food.  They begin eating in earnest next to the other benches beside me, not forty feet away.  I eat my fruit and drink my water.  We are at peace in each other’s company.  Three cars drive by and mercifully do not stop to interrupt our lunches.

I see that everywhere around me, at every level, God is providing, sovereignly orchestrating life.  I have been missing this simplicity.  Have I chosen a kind of blindness like the Pharisees?  I know God is in control.  I experience it in a visceral, present way.

An older couple arrives to clean the benches.  The geese retreat to the water.  I speak only a few words to the lady – content to keep my silent fast.  I move on to Lookout Point.

From the intimate microcosm of the lake I follow the winding road into the hills.  It serves to separate me even more from the familiar and the ordinary.  Winter fallen trees droop to touch the road.  The park attendants have yet to venture this far to do their annual maintenance.  The lake area, as peaceful as it was, seems busy and almost urban by comparison.  I arrive and park behind a couple enjoying the view fron inside their car.  Instead of intruding into their view I wait and write much of these notes.

They leave.  I take my Bible and walk to the bench overlooking the plain and take in the expansive panorama.  I re-read Psalm 97, Psalm 115 (twice), Ecclesiastes 9, John 9.  I listen to God speaking in His word.

The bees gather pollen and nectar from the dandelions.  The flies pester me.  The breeze is soft.  The sky is clear and open.

I am alive by the grace of God and all I have comes from His Hand.  All idols are useless, and I am still discarding some of my own.  My idol of self-reliance.  My idol of personal pain and hurts.  My idol of competency.  My idol of anger.  My idol of fear.

I ask Jesus to heal my blindness.  Only He can help me see.  I must look to Him.  He is not far.

I ask only for new clarity and sight.  May God be so gracious as to grant my prayer, be it in His will.

I am filled.  I will make the journey home soon, reminded of Who is Sovereign in my life; Who alone I can and must trust; Who alone I must worship and obey.

I know life is struggle and death is my destination – but not my final destination.  And God is providing all I need for now and for ever.

I recall the goslings by the lake, lying in the grass, warming in the sunshine, feeding on the bounty all around them.  I am in the same place, God is loving and teaching me.

Hallelujah!

Shalom is mine in this moment.

I travel home in silence.  I notice my mind trying to return to my cares and concerns.  This time I have to fight to hold onto the peace and contentment.  I struggle, I sing in my mind.  I keep the silence, resist the temptation to check my phone, turn on the radio.

EPILOGUE

A few days after my retreat I find I am still able to enter the silence more easily.  I am content to just be with Susie.  To pray in silence.  To just be before my God.  I hope this lasts.

A Year Since...

My friend Perry died last year - July 5.

Unexpectedly.

Unnecessarily.

Unresolvedly.

Today would have been his birthday. Facebook reminder - weird. Such is the world we live in now.

My post from a year ago no longer plays the song that helped me mourn because the soulless music corporation that owns the copyright is now blocking the video. Thanks for nothing Sony.

It still hurts.

Perry was a man of deep faith in Jesus Christ. I'm supposed to be, too. But it still hurts. And my pain is nothing, I'm sure, compared to what his wife and daughters feel today.

Faith is belief in what we cannot see. I have faith in God's plan. But I can't see it. Maybe one day.

But not today.

Today I see the hole left by my friend's absence. But I don't believe in the hole even though I see it and feel it. The feelings are real. But the truth is stronger. One day it will make me stronger.

Jesus said,
"And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." Matthew 28:20b

Jesus is here, but so is the hole. Jesus makes it bearable.

Shalom my Brother, Perry.

How Do You Feel?

Recently I have become increasingly aware of health care and its associated costs through the illnesses of people I am connected to through the internet and personally. Michael Spencer, my fav Christian blogger - who is a real Christian goshdarnit - has been struck with cancer and has lost his income and health care coverage and is in real jeopardy, financially as well as physically. Kaja Foglio of "Girl Genius" had knee surgery and as a self-employed artist/entrepreneur she and her husband Phil have had to face these issues. In a circumstantial quirk that beggars description the Foglio's colorist, Cheyenne Wright, was struck with a viral infection that affected his heart. Cheyenne is even further out on the seemingly non-existent health care limb than Spencer and the Foglios as he is a free-lance artist.

Their friend and fellow web cartoonist/entrepreneur/writer and neo-Renaissance guy Aaron Williams, creator of "Nodwick", "PS 238", "Full Frontal Nerdity" and the recently and sadly demised "Backward Compatible" comic strips as well as the highly excellent, more traditionally delivered "North 40", linked to an archived American NPR broadcast of "This American Life" from October of 2009 on the subject of health care and its attendant costs. If you want the rest of this post to make any sense you must listen to this program next. Thanks to the "majick of the internets", the rest of my scribblings will patiently await your return. Hoy, Technology!

As a Canadian, and "lucky" recipient of nationalized public health care, it may seem that I don't have a dog in this fight, but I've been spending a lot more time in hospitals and being concerned about health care lately. After my mother-in-law destroyed her right shoulder in a frightening tumble down her basement stairs in October of 2009 - yet another coincidence beggaring description when juxtaposed with the date of the NPR broadcast - and that in the middle of dealing with her husband's rapidly deteriorating condition due to Alzheimer's, we were forced to pay much closer attention to such things - at least north of the 49th parallel. More recently, due to experiencing my wife suffering with an undiagnosable ailment, I have realized that many of the pressures, mechanisms and infernal internal workings of health care delivery as outlined in the "This American Life" documentary are also part of "This Canadian Life". I live in the "True North, (not so) Strong and Free (for sure not free as in 'free lunch')".

Many of the situations described in the broadcast had an all too familiar feel to them, particularly how my wife and I evaluate medical decisions based on how information is shared with us by doctors, nurses, therapists, politicians, medical insurance providers and drug companies through advertising and the ubiquitous media. These multiple streams of information have created and sustained many of the same false beliefs and unproductive ideals we see demonstrated in the US health system. The real reality check being that neither a public nor private system - nor any hybrid of the two - will solve the basic issue of a demanding public that wants what it wants - now - costs be damned.

Solutions will hopefully come from more education and understanding of the forces driving health costs worldwide, and hopefully a sober re-evaluation of our expectations of the system alongside a maturing acceptance of our mortality. OK that last part is really unlikely, but it would help us gain a better perspective. But we cannot maintain "business as usual" in America or Canada for much longer, if at all. In the meantime, folks like Michael Spencer, Cheyenne Wright, the Foglios and many, many more will be at the mercy of the system and upheld only by the mercy of the community that supports them. That's the gracious, loving adaptation that has been made as a response to the inequities and shortcomings of the health system. People who care and are caring have stepped up to help these folks - meeting needs we expect government, industry and community to address, but have spectacularly failed to do. And we all shudder at how expensive mercy has become - and that it has become a commodity at all. As a leader of a faith community, all of this impacts deeply on my work and calling in ways I am struggling to understand and deal with.

If you visit some of the links above you'll find PayPal links for some of these folks. If you're feeling OK you might send them a few bucks to tide them over. After that, you might want to get control of your own health care understanding, process and start engaging with the system in your local area. Do some work while you're up to it - while you feel healthy. It's a lot easier than having to deal with it from flat on your back in a hospital bed. But more than anything it seems we all need a network of people who care for us and will care for us when we and the system can't (or won't). No amount of money will ever purchase care that is as good as what is given freely in love. That is why I am so involved in the community God is creating through Jesus. Real hope and security lies there.

Find His community - it's the best medicine.

Shalom

Music & Faith

As a person of faith I constantly find wonder in the world because I see the hand of God in action everywhere. For whatever reason I was created to be particularly sensitive to music - and I know I'm not the only one. My appreciation of music has undergone several times of rediscovery as I have been able to integrate personal experience, emotional understanding and a widening perspective into my experience of enjoying music.

Perhaps this whole process is becoming more poignant as I develop difficulty in hearing. Time and some audio abuse seems to have worked its harsh consequence upon my sense of hearing. I strongly suspect that I will outlive my ability to hear properly - but there are no hearing aides in my ears yet. And while that is not yet the case, I have decided to keep on listening.

Music reviews were a staple of my earlier pursuit of this life long love. Finding a reviewer whose taste and sensibilities complimented my own while still being able to introduce me to new musical experiences was a discovery that I would savour. Radio DJs were also useful before playlists were corporately programmed - designed to meet content requirements (thanks sooooo much CRTC) and reach advertising demographic groups (NONE of which I belong to!). These days corporate media hustling, narrowcasting and the proliferation of musical genres, which most folks seem to strictly confine their listening within, have pretty much killed most of the good reviewers.

I am convinced that a good recording can - when the artist honestly pursues the truth - bring us an appreciation of the divine and the human and the place they intersect. It is no coincidence that the Psalms (songs of the Bible) are among the most quoted ancient Scriptures in the New Testament. I find I cannot memorize more than a few lines of prose - the post-modern equivalent being reciting movie catch phrases - from important sections of Scripture, speeches or books & writings. But I can easily commit to memory a large catalog of songs, poems and music. Ideas wrapped in music have a staying power beyond the mere spoken word.

So I'm going to spend a number of posts reviewing the very best recordings I have ever experienced. Some will seem quite old - what the HECK IS old anyway? - some will be newer. All will, I hope, hold the common thread of having the air of truth about them, even if they make the list because they are essentially just great fun as opposed to being deep and transcendent musings on the human condition.

I hope to cover a wide range of genres, but I won't cover everything because there are some music categories that I just don't - and probably never will - appreciate. So be it. I am biased, as we all are. I hope my bias is a useful bias. Anyway, I'm not too worried - Perez Hilton I'm not, THANK GOD - so my little scribblings will not in all likelihood do much damage or cause much of a groundswell. Never the less - enjoy!

Shalom

Autumnal Dance

I have always loved Autumn best.

One friend/mentor/teacher summed it up perfectly saying, "It's that delicious feeling of impending doom."

Northerners get it. I lived in Northern Alberta. Pretty way north. Autumn, like spring, was nearly - but not quite - instant. Palpable and ephemeral. As soon as the first hard frost happened Mom & Dad would plan our annual "leaf drive". It was an afternoon excursion into the hills and valleys (coolies) of the Peace Country in northern Alberta. A constantly undulating low-level flight that shifted from golden-gray harvested fields to riotously glowing stands of poplar, birch, willow and aspen shot through with the eternal green of conifers grown black-green with summer sun.

The trees either stood in tight copses on hills and along windbreaks or else filled the steep-sided ravines and coolies. The gravel roads we traveled would pitch and weave through this landscape as we "ooed" and "ahhed" when each new splash of defiant color hove into view. The Sun, now becoming perpetually low in the sky, would dazzle our eyes and make them water through our gleeful grins. Moments of peace, joy, unity and love in our family now flash frozen in my memory and gently cooled by the passage of time.

No music accompanied these trips - "AM radio only, please" in my parent's frugal cars. Just the soundtrack of gravel crunching and rapping under our car and our endless exclamations and comments.

"Oh, look there!"

"Nice reds!"

"It's a sea of gold."

We will go out for our new "leaf drive" soon. Our "version 1.2" of this family tradition incorporated music. I'd usually try to choose evocative favorites. We'd still comment - like we did on those "Christmas Light" drives, too. "Leaf drives" are better. We'd bask in awe of the handiwork of God, reminded of the gentle, powerful, creative and wise hand that shapes everything we experience. Even the agnostic and the atheist must respond with some sense of wonder, I suspect, when faced with such naked beauty and divine radiance.

This year will be different though, perhaps it's now "version 1.3". No children in the backseat. No warm family babble before, during or after. Like the leaves drifting from the trees, our children are dancing ever farther from our reach.

The delicious feeling of impending doom rises.

I will program some music for our drive though. Some companions are constant. Surely some Jack Semple from his wonderful instrumental album "Qu'Appelle" - one place we will surely drive to and through.

New Dala will be played from their summer 2009 release "Everyone Is Someone". Their fourth original CD and my second acquisition - better than the last one, which was better than most anything else I've heard in a very long time.

I'll choose some Mark Knopfler from his wide catalog and especially his new release "Get Lucky".

And there will be new and old favorites too. Some Joshua Radin, some Willie Nile, some Jerry Proppe, some Dixie Chicks, some Ian Hunter, some Emmylou Harris, some Robert Plant with Alison Krauss, some Jon Bauer, a smidgen of Tinted Windows and some John Fogerty.

And we'll dance the Autumnal Dance in a brand-new old-fashioned way.

Why don't you make your own playlist and join us? Can't you feel it rising - that feeling? Don't you want to dance too?

Shalom

Last Days

During the current world-wide economic strife I have been relatively pleased that the Christian community has, for the most part, showed remarkable restraint in not proclaiming the end of days loudly and stridently from the rooftops of churches. The temptation must have been - and still is, I reckon - quite considerable.

But, the doomsayers have had their moments before and whether it was Hal Lindsay in his book "The Late Great Planet Earth" or Oral Roberts pleading for money to shore up his ministry or The World Wide Church of God determining a set of what ended up to be moving dates when the end would come (and these are only a few occurrences in my lifetime) we all know that the score stands thus: God - ∞ ; Predictors - 0.

Unfortunately the cracks are starting to show in Christendom and dire warnings of doom are beginning to leak out. I was very surprised to read such a post by David Wilkerson, the author of the autobiographical "The Cross and the Switichblade". His message is predictable, cryptic and supported (poorly) by Scripture as John Piper observes.

My personal reaction was dismay. I read "The Cross and the Switchblade" when I was a youngster. It frightened and fascinated me. I became aware of the reality that there are people in the world who will actually do what Christ would - put their lives on the line for others - and this was long before we started wearing WWJD bracelets. I admit I'm no David Wilkerson, but to now see him treading into fool's territory is disappointing.

All of this, and some recent personal encounters, have caused me to think about this and I am currently of the opinion that the church can gain no ground by taking the role of doomsayer for the following reasons:

1. We have a message to deliver already. Christ Lives! He died for all and was raised to life by the power of God. All can receive His free gifts of forgiveness, salvation, restoration and everlasting life. There is no other message we are called to deliver.

*NOTE* Generally the church as a whole does not engage much in doomsaying, despite the stereotypes the world holds of us - it is most often individuals. I suggest to those of you with such a message a very healthy contemplation of Ephesians 5:21 then don't deliver your message of destruction until there is unity within the body you are a part of concerning this.

2. The judgment of God upon the world is implicit in the Gospel. We do not do conviction - that is the work of the Holy Spirit. If in the hearing of God's Word people feel appropriate guilt (yes gentle reader there is such a thing) that is something they must address if they wish to be honest with themselves. We do not need to add unnecessary emphasis to this portion of the message.

3. We have cried "wolf" too often to be taken seriously. As an example, I suggest that the politically motivated eco-movement is currently falling under the effects of this. Recent revelations concerning "global warming" - now re-named "climate change" - questions and concerns about the adoption of policies purported to aid ecological agendas and the lack of civil debate in these matters has tainted the message of the ecologists and they are risking losing what credibility they still have. When it comes to the issue of "the end of days" I submit that the church has even less credibility, if any at all. And that sad truth alone could be the subject of an entire blog post.

4. Worrying about this inevitable event is useless. Trying to accelerate its inception, manage through its possible series of events, use it as a goad to prod people into acceptance of Christ or basing your life decisions on how you believe you understand it all will happen is, at the very least delusional and at worst violently arrogant. Especially in light of the truth that it is God's decision and we claim to accept His sovreignity. Even Christ Himself admitted that he doesn't know when all of this is going to happen. So when we say we do, who the heck do we think we are?

I heard a story recently that captures, I think, how we pilgrims should react in troubled times. This is my modified retelling of it:

At an evangelical seminary a group of earnest, fresh-faced students were engaged in a late night friendly game of Risk with one of the professors. One of them asked the group what they would do if they suddenly received the message that Christ's appearance was immanent and the end of all things was upon them. Answers ranged from "call my family and friends who don't believe and plead with them one last time" to "wake up everyone on campus so they can be ready" to "go to the chapel to confess and pray" to "call the radio and TV stations" to "put it on my blog/text it/twitter it". Finally the students turned to the professor and asked what he would do.

"Finish the game," he replied with a smile.

One other person commenting on these things said "I think brothers and sisters in countries all over the world are living through what looks like Armageddon to them right now." So why is this such a big deal to us all of a sudden? Oh yeah, right, I forgot - we all just lost a bunch of our gold. It must be the end of days, right? (sarcasm very much intended - forgive me if you can)

It is the end of days - right now.

It always has been since Jesus ascended to Heaven.

Live them for Him.

Peace

Waiting For ....

"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." - John Lennon

Winter doesn't want to loosen its grasp on Flatland. It seems to have dug in deeper even as the Sun has tried to climb higher in the sky. I feel I am watching an epic struggle between an unmovable object and an irresistible force. And even though I know how the story will end, it truly seems as though the outcome is presently in doubt. Like watching "Apollo 13" I am fascinated, stuck on the edge of my seat, unable to look away.

I sometimes wonder if I am the only one who sometimes sees his life circumstances reflected in the world around him. This seems so self-indulgent and self-delusional, but these past several weeks have left me with a distinct sense that there are also immense powers and principalities battling for supremacy in my life and their straining potentialities are beginning to shape my circumstances.

As a 'Christian' you might properly mock me for not being more sanguine about my seeming lack of control - and you would be right, too. I did voluntarily submit my life to my Lord and Savior and thus I have no cause to object to the circumstances I find myself in. "Not my will, but Yours, Lord." Much easier said than done.

The natural desire to defend, deflect and to even launch a preemptive attack is strong, and I am no better at resisting temptations than anyone else I know, and in most cases far less able. And yet I wake each day and put one foot in front of the other. The tsunami may overtake me soon, but I have obligations, responsibilities and even simple mundane tasks to fill my moments while I watch for darkening clouds on the horizon.

My faith seems to be sustaining me, and my ministry - such as it is - is comforting as it is frustrating. People are such....PEOPLE! Lost, angry, frightened, unreliable, dangerous, confused and reckless - they bump into my life with heart-wrenching abandon - often doing what I'm doing. Putting one foot in front of the other while quiet desperation hangs on us all like a shroud.

I'd like to be specific, but I can't. Let me just say this - I was warned that there would be days like this. But no amount of preparation can fully steel one against the onslaught that is the pain of people's lives and the destruction they leak out on others because of it. And then in the middle of this there is a moment of truth, a breath of compassion, a twinkle of joy, a mote of hope caught in the light. And it is enough for the next few steps.

Spring. Promise. Hope. Change. The chance of a well-hit tee shot flying clean and true. The powers that be may rage on unabated, but I will stoop to brush the snow away from another new flower bravely pushing through the cold earth towards the sunshine. It will be enough. Even if the Summer never comes.

Shalom

Obama

OK. He's now officially the 44th president of the USA. The first black American president. And I must admit he is also the most eloquent and engaging political public speaker I have heard in my lifetime. He's saying all of the right things. I pray he and his administration will also do the right things. And like many of my fellow Flatlanders, I sincerely hope his influence will rub off on our leaders here north of the 49th parallel.

But, I will still contend that salvation will not ultimately come to us from either 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue or 24 Sussex Drive, or the UN or from any human agency.

Yet, I am hopeful that the new American president will be a leader who will exert his influence for the common good of our world. And to that end I will say, and pray, "Godspeed, President Obama."

Uncertainty in Uncertain Times

This post at Internetmonk.com caused me to comment - something I don't often do.

A lot of people think I "have it all together" because I'm a pastor. The truth is that my journey has raised more questions than answers. So why do I persevere? Because of the one thing I am not uncertain about - God's love for us all through Jesus Christ. I guess that's faith. It may not seem intellectual, but it is where I am - questions, doubts, insecurities and uncertainties notwithstanding. That is what He has done for me. And it's enough.

"It's the end of the world as we know it,

And I feel fine."

Lyrics from "It's the End of the World" by R.E.M.

The TULIP Died

One of the outcomes of my ordination journey was the examination of where I fall in the Calvinism vs. Arminianism debate. Strangely enough I was prompted to post this because I was channel-surfing the other night and happened across the movie Hardcore in which George C. Scott plays a very conservative mid-western businessman on a quest in California for his estranged daughter who has run away and fallen into the world of hardcore pornography and the sex trade. I actually just caught the scene where Scott is explaining the TULIP acronym to a hooker he has convinced to help him find his daughter. It's an odd scene to be sure, but it speaks to the character Scott portrays and to a large portion of Christian belief and experience in America and Canada.

I admit I have flirted with some of the petals of TULIP over the years, particularly 'total depravity' and 'irresistible grace', but my recent journey has led me to be convinced that I am a Wesleyan through and through - something my parents would have been happy to hear as they were both taught by largely Wesleyan Methodist professors, and were in every way Arminian in their position. As the Apostle Paul observes there is no substitute for a good upbringing in the faith.

Most Christians don't give much thought to these things - they believe what they believe and that's that. I'm not so certain that results in a persuasive witness. In a world where the fanatical religious seem to be uncontrollably following their belief systems like WWE actors - prisoners of inevitable inertia as they fly across the ring of life, unable to change their trajectory - I believe many people are looking for the Truth that frees instead of binds.

At the core of the Wesleyan perspective is the concept of God's prevenient grace. It is that grace that restores our ability to choose God and have an unforced relationship with Him. This does not mean that God leaves it entirely up to us - He does make a persuasive argument - but in the end we have a choice. I struggle with some of the ways we talk about that choice - often I think we describe it with a bit too much emphasis on what we do and so I believe Calvin did have some points worth noting. As my history/theology prof, David T. Priestley said, "Calvin wasn't a Calvinist. He was Calvinian." (emphasis mine) Others who came after him created the five points out of his, and others, writings at the Synod of Dordtrecht in 1618-19. A cautionary tale for us all I'm sure.

In the end, my faith is based on God's Word and the evidence of His grace and love to me - but it is, I hope, a reasonable and understandable faith. The Apostle Paul writes that the Gospel doesn't make sense to the world. In a world where thought, reason and personal reflection seem as archaic as buggy whips and Morse Code I guess this is one more aspect of my life that marks me as His. And I pray that my witness is persuasive.

Shalom

The image attached to this post was found here and was not used in any way that was intended to deprive the owner of their rights.