Hold on to these words

"The life of mortals is like grass, they flourish like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more. Psalm 103:15, 16

With arms slightly out stretched, he harbored himself between two symbols that time can never erase...and today it only seemed even more appropriate. His left hand was on the baptismal font and his right hand rested on the pulpit that holds a carving of a cross. His back was turned to the congregation as he sang the words to "10,000 Reasons" that were printed on the screen at the front of the church. On one occasion, I noticed he reached into his pocket for a cloth to wipe away what I can only imagine to be tears. I don't know if this was his usual stance with  his arms extended outwards resting on symbols of Christian sacraments as if to give him support. But on this occasion - his farewell sermon - Pastor Paul anchored himself to two undying truths: the cleansing water of baptism and the saving blood of the cross.

As a visitor at this morning's service at Dundas Calvin Christian Reformed Church (the church of my youth and teenage years), I was blessed to hear Pastor Paul Vanden Brink's plea to "remember the cross". After 10 years of service, and probably close to delivering 1000 messages, all filled with equal measures of urgency and passion I'm sure, he implored his 'flock' to remember Christ's sacrifice for you and me; to remember the cross. We were reminded that at the end of our earthly days, the cross is the only thing that matters in life - not your job, career, family, house - or anything that you take pride in. It's not how religious you are, how faithful you've been to your spouse, how good of a parent you are to your children, how 'vice-less' you are, or how you never cheat the tax man. If you don't know the bitter taste of the cross, you'll never savour its sweet message of hope. If you haven't heard your own voice accusing Jesus as he hung on Calvary's cross, you'll never hear his welcome, "Well done, good and faithful servant". Christ's death equally and without prejudice atoned the sins of the repentant hooker and the pious 'habit' wearing nun. This - Christ's death and resurrection - is the ONLY thing that lasts forever. Forget everything else.

It's this matter of 'passing things' that's been on my mind lately. Like the verse from Psalm 103 above, we're reminded that we are here for only a short time. Yesterday, on my birthday, God in his mercy blessed me with another year. I think it's only natural that as we get older we start looking back and evaluating our life. Do I have unfulfilled dreams? What will my legacy be? Have I been the son, brother, husband and father that God wants me to be? All these questions inevitably and invariably end with feelings of regret and failure. Because, after I die, and my great-grand children's grand children are nipping at the heels of their parents, no one will either think of or remember me..or you. That's true for 99.99% of the population. I hope this isn't a revelation to anyone! Really.

So, I can spend lots of time trying to create a 'perfect life'. I can buy the latest toys, live in the nicest home, create precious moments by the vacations I take. I can build an irresistible online profile that everyone would admire, have a high powered career, or even be a devoted homemaker. But it's like the flower - here today and gone tomorrow. Poof. Gone. Finished. What then?

It's the 'what then' question that was still floating in my thoughts this morning as I prepared myself for worship. And in a moment what felt like divine providence I saw the symbols that Pastor Paul positioned himself between. The refreshing, cleansing water of the font where I was baptised as an infant and the empty cross where my Jesus once hung. That's all I have...and that's all I really need.

"But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children—" Psalm 103:17

Oh, the great plans I had for my new pet fish

"Call me Ishmael." For I was optimistic and full of hope!

It was 1980 something. And, as any teenage boy worth his salt I drove my Mom crazy by 'hanging around'. It wasn't so much as 'hanging around', but I suffered from the common affliction what was then known as being #bored (without the #). It wasn't so much as being bored, but it was problem of finding something that would hold my attention for longer than 2.5 seconds. Today, psychologists might label me as being mildly ADD with a slant towards 'inattentiveness'. Back then, however, my Mom would just say I was being 'vervelend', which is the Dutch word to describe someone who is causing an irritation or an annoyance! I didn't exactly know what the word meant then, but I knew that when she used it I wasn't being very lovable.

So, with a grand - and rare - idea conjured up, I jumped on my metallic red, Canadian Tire 'Super-Cycle' and rode the 3km trek to Waterdown's one and only pet store to buy a gold fish and a bowl. (To this day I'm not exactly sure why I thought this would hold my attention, but I was going with it and I wasn't going to argue with myself!) After selecting the fish with the perfect shade of orange, and locating a glass bowl that looked like...well...'just like home' from a fish's perspective, I made the precarious trip to our Robson Road address. With a fish - in a bag of water - in one hand, and my new fish's home in the other, I was thankful that long before I learned to steer my bike and its curved handle bars with my knees. Step 1 was complete.

Step 2: Transferring the fish and its water from the bag to the bowl went exceedingly well. I executed flawlessly - neither did I spill a drop nor cause a near death experience to my unnamed fish. In good fish fashion I like to think he raised his gill as if to pump a fist and say 'thanks' for rescuing him from being the next dinner item for the neighbouring Tetra fish.

The moment I had been waiting for was soon to arrive. I would place Nemo, (not his real name) and his new glassy confines on my dresser in my bedroom, which was located on the second floor of my home. The only barriers in my way to a state of bliss were a flight of stairs...a tight corner to navigate...a slight elevation of the bowl to the top of the dresser...and I was all set to be entertained for the rest of my life. Or, so I thought. I cautiously cruised up the 13 stairs that separated my known worlds of the awake and of the asleep. With only 5 feet to go and my dresser in sight I cut the corner too tight at the top of the stairs; my shoulder brushed up against the wall...and...crash. My bowl and its proud occupant slammed onto the floor triggering a small tsunami as shards of glass flew this way and that. And, there on cold floor, with a glass spear impaling him through his tiny abdomen, Nemo looked at me with mournful eyes as if to say 'Et tu Brute?" Then his gills no longer gilled and his fins finned no more.

With all my great planning I didn't account for the phenomenon known as condensation. Somewhere between transferring Nemo from the bag to the bowl and placing Nemo's home on its final resting place, a layer of condensation formed on the exterior of the glass. As I walked carefully through my home, my hands were releasing their tight grip and I could feel the bowl being heavily influenced by gravity. My enemy was time...and I ran out. Nemo paid the price. I've never owned a fish since that fateful day!

All this gets me to the abbreviation: D.V., which we would see printed in our church's bulletin every now and again. No, it didn't refer to my Dad's or my brother's initials as we chuckled about whenever we saw it printed. It was the abbreviated form of "Deo Volente" translated as 'God willing' based on the teaching in James 4:13-15. In the early 1900's and later in the century, D.V. would often follow a publication of wedding banns or other official announcements and when you saw it you would know that it meant: "We plan these things, and if it's God's will, then they'll take place."

So, I have two questions - A: was it God's will that Nemo didn't swim to see another day, and B: can James' statement be directed at teenaged boys transporting fish? A: I really don't know. B. I highly doubt it! But, I do know, that if we think we can do anything on our own power and steam without acknowledging Him as the author and finisher of all things, then all our plans are for nothing - broken, shattered, and impaled forever to a world of emptiness and loneliness. As Proverbs 16:1 says, "We make our plans, but God has the last word."

One of the reasons why I'm assured that faith, hope, and love will always remain

We received this card from an unknown
 flower customer in the dead of winter.

I could go on a rant about the absurd #justiceforCecil petition going around in comparison to ISIS' crimes against humanity. Or, I could write an exposé on the bare breasted rally in support of women's right to go topless held in Waterloo, ON; or, even have an over inflated discussion of Tom Brady's 4 game NFL suspension for allegedly deflating footballs in what is known as 'deflategate'. But, it's a long week-end in Ontario and I'm going light on words, heavy on substance, and hope to generate a few smiles!

This may not come as a surprise to you, but writing this blog is strictly volunteer! I do it because I love to share my life and faith through the wonder of a pen, or pixels in the case of the Internet. So, in order to "put bread (and the occasional steak) on the table", my wife and I own and operate a small, cut flower farm in southern Ontario. In addition to selling cut flowers (mainly dahlias) to wholesale florists we also set up a self-serve flower cart on most days during the growing season. Being a seasonal, self employed 'farmer' (I use that term loosely) who relies on a 3 month window to earn a wage that's supposed to last for 12 months, I've really come to appreciate the phrase 'cash is king'! The grocery money that comes from the cash box is usually well received and well timed! Good will and good intent are nice ideas, but the bank doesn't accept them in lieu of money. Head scratcher.

Sometimes, it's not the money in the box that causes us to smile and breath a sigh of relief. It's the occasional note from our regular customers.

Like this note that arrived this past Thursday:

"I.O.U. 15 cents. I will be back"

We sell our flower bunches for $5 each and, on most days, the dollar amount in the box matches the total number of flower bunches sold. Like I said - most days!

Many times, we've been asked by customers if most people are honest, and if we've ever had money stolen. I can say categorically YES...and....NO respectively! We're of the opinion and belief that if someone went through the hassle and risk of removing the cash box, then they probably need the money more than we do. And, if they wanted a free bunch of flowers for their table, or give to their girlfriend, then hopefully they'll enjoy them a little less than if they had been paid for!

Then on Friday (the following day), we were welcomed by this note:

"I'm back. Only have 25 cents so Y.O.M. 10 cents. Just kidding. I love the flowers and look forward to seeing them at the end of your driveway each year. Thank you for having faith in people's honesty."

These notes are rare, but very much appreciated! This person took the time to prepare a hand written note and meticulously wrap it around a quarter so that it would fit in the coin slot of the money box.

Would we have noticed if this person didn't pay the 15 cents owing? Truthfully - no. And, it certainly wouldn't have deterred us from selling flowers at the end of our driveway.

It made me think though - our intention was not to show that we have faith in people's honesty by having a self serve stand. (It's really because we can't afford to pay someone to attend the road side stand full time!) But, by having a self serve stand, someone felt honored and respected that we would place our trust in them, a stranger.

In today's society, suspicion, anxiety, and fear rule our lives. We encounter security cameras, armed patrol officers, drug smelling dogs, drones, and other invasive 'eyes in the sky' on a regular basis. Unfortunately, this is the norm and it goes mostly unnoticed. Occasionally though, small things are pointed out like this kind note from a stranger and we smiled. And, we're refreshed knowing that in the end, God reigns. And, because we know we've been made in God's image we're assured that things like faith, hope, and love will always remain. 1 Corinthians 13:13

Words of hope and promise for parents dealing with guilt

You left this morning without -
making your bed,
putting your clothes away,
picking up your toys.

You left this morning without -
locking the door,
putting gas in the car,
cutting the grass.

You left this morning without -
feeding the cat,
walking the dog,
putting the garbage out.

You left this morning without -
checking the mail,
watering the plants,
picking up the newspaper.

For all these things you didn't do, I shook my head and cursed.

I didn't love you perfectly.
When you were small -
I didn't always walk slow enough, bend down far enough, or give you my full attention.

I didn't love you perfectly.
When you were a child -
I didn't always wipe away your tears when you were sad, hug you enough when you felt deserted, or sit with you when you were lonely.

I didn't love you perfectly.
When you were a teenager -
I didn't always enjoy taking you to the movies, watching you play ball in the rain, or picking you up from the mall.

I didn't love you perfectly. And, now that you're all grown up...

You left this morning without -
saying "Good-bye".

For this one last thing you didn't do, I hung my head and cried.

And, in that moment of despair, I heard someone whisper my name. You know the one, don't you? Jesus? He reminded me that though my love for you may have been imperfect, his love is perfect. Welcome him into your life, and he'll never ask you to say, "Good bye". He'll stop when you say, "Wait for me". He'll bend down when you say, 'I have something to tell you". He'll be your friend when you say, "I'm lonely". He'll cry when you cry, and laugh when you laugh. He will be a father, a friend, a brother like you've never had! For all my broken promises and more, you can hang your hat on this because he's my friend, too. He won't let you down.

 "Because I (Jesus) lives, you also will live." John 14:19

 

 

A God-moment never to be forgotten

Picture courtesy of Heather DH (Burlington CRC)

This one's tough. Not because I don't know what to say...I don't know how to say it and give it the justice it deserves. (I'm also hesitant to label what I'm about to write as a 'God moment', because I think it limits God! God's complete omnipresence and omniscience is foundational to my Christian belief. However, I think most readers will understand what is meant by a God moment...so I'm sticking with it!)

What I witnessed at this past Wednesday's worship service was proof positive that the postmodern 'God is Dead Movement' is dead wrong. He is alive and he was present among the 47 youth who came to Burlington this past week on a Youth Unlimited SERVE mission trip. Through their personal testimonies, these teens, hailing from parts of the US Midwest and Ontario, confirmed God's faithfulness to his promise of sending his Holy Spirit to believers and to their children and to all who are far off (Acts 2:39). Picture many of the 47 teens singing loudly, clapping, and dancing to 'Days of Elijah'; doing a jig to the bridge 'There's no God like Jehovah'; followed by a soulful and equally moving 'When Peace like a River/It is Well with my Soul. The first written in 1994 and the second in 1876! Penned more than a century apart, these songs were used to praise and worship God by teens in 2015 - most of whom were born around Y2K!

I'm one of those guys who experienced my teenage years in the 1980's. If you happened to be a member of a Reformed, or another conservative, Protestant church at that time, then it was fairly typical to look at those who raised their hands in worship, or say 'AMEN' aloud, with a crooked brow and question their brand of Christianity. I don't know when and why it happened, but somehow raising arms and clapping hands in worship to God became unacceptable. Kneeling was also frowned upon...perhaps it smacked of too much 'Catholicity'. I'm afraid that in the zeal of our Protestant forefathers and mothers, they threw 'the baby out with the bathwater.' Makes me think what are we going to do in Heaven?

Music was sacrosanct - much like it is today. Apparently, the organ and the occasional trumpet and French horn were the only instruments allowed in the Holy of Holies. I think that's what the psalmist really meant when he said "Praise him with the tambourine and dancing; praise him with strings (guitars?) and flutes"! (Psalm 150:4) As a teen, the only acceptable Christian songs, that were not in a Christian hymnal, were Kum Bayah, We are One in the Spirit, and Michael Row Your Boat Ashore. We were cautioned to handle musicians such as Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith with care and a modicum of suspicion, while Christian metal bands like Stryper were scorned and condemned for being to AC/DC 'ish.

Today, it's usually the older songs that I learned as a child, or heard my parents sing, that speak in louder volumes and are more spiritually meaningful to me than the newer music - with a few exceptions. And, the conservative styles of worship that are loved by older and younger generations alike have both equally beautiful and God honouring elements. I can't emphasize the importance of quiet, reflective, and reverend worship enough. But, participating with these teens as they sang both old and new, praise and worship songs with equal enthusiasm and passion for our Lord brought me to silence. I couldn't sing. So, lifting my hands in praise and adoration, I could only pray and thank God for granting me the joy to watch and experience almost 50 youth singing and praising his name.

If only there was a kneeling bench!

A man and his tattered toy elephant

Ever see an adult clutching a stuffed toy or holding a blanket close to his or her face? I did last Sunday; and admittedly - I had to look twice, because it's not something you see everyday. I saw an adult man holding a stuffed toy very close to his chest. Accompanied by his caregiver/guide, this man, with apparent special needs, was a visitor in our church so I don't know his story. However, this scene of a man holding his tattered toy elephant got me to think...and smile.

What if we carried around with us a special blanket, a piece of cloth, or a stuffed animal? And, when we were upset or nervous we would hold it up close to our face and the world would return to its peaceful state? Imagine if that was the norm. We would get ready for work and run a checklist through our head - wallet ... yup .... keys ... yup ... lunch ... yup ... teddy bear ... yup. What if you didn't like to carry 'things' but liked to suck your thumb, pinky finger, or even a plastic soother? In today's culture, you'd be looked upon as quirky, in need of professional help...or needed simply to be left alone!

If you think about it, it's really not far-fetched. The truth is many of us carry around items, or engage in habits that we've adopted as adults to give us the 'comfort' we need; and we've become chained to them. We've exchanged our blankets and chew toys for cigarettes, alcohol, and sex. We've traded our thumbs for the casino, fast cars, and the latest pair of shoes. Food. Fashion. Alcohol. Cars. Houses. Hollywood. These things, in and of themselves of are not bad, but we can pour ourselves into them in hopes they'll bring us happiness...and the comfort that internally we all crave and seek to secure. Subtlety, our comforts become our chains and what once provided self-security becomes our jail keeper.

I've been sucked in, too. As a university student, I started engaging in excessive behaviors in search for my own comfort. Wracked by what was undiagnosed anxiety at the time, unknowingly I turned to harmful substances as a way to cope. Instead of turning to the faith preciously handed to me from my parents, schools, and church, I turned to the 'Porcelain God' and became an eager 'Bedside Believer'.

However, on a bed, tucked away at the back of a house in Eastown, Grand Rapids, MI, I remember  praying to God and saying these exact words, "Please God, whatever faith I still have in you, do not let me lose it! Please don't let me go." I knew that what I was doing was counter to God's will. You see - I still believed there was evil in the world.  And, since I believed there was such a thing as evil, then rationally I had to believe that holiness and righteousness were also present. So, whenever I remembered to do so I prayed that prayer.

This year - 2015 - marks twenty five years since graduating university. My life has changed radically. I'm no longer held by chains that were masterfully disguised as comfort. I'm thankful that God has released me from 'servitude' to things into 'service' to Him. Has it been easy? No. But, God met me where I was - he had been with me all along and was waiting patiently. He has truly become...my only comfort in life, and in death. He is neither fake nor imaginary...he is real, and you'll never have to re-sew any toy limbs that have fallen off from too much lovin'!


Heidelberg Catechism Q & A 1

Q. What is your only comfort
in life and in death?

 

A. That I am not my own,¹
but belong—

body and soul,
in life and in death—²

to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.³

He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood,⁴
and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil.⁵
He also watches over me in such a way⁶
that not a hair can fall from my head
without the will of my Father in heaven;⁷
in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.⁸

Because I belong to him,
Christ, by his Holy Spirit,
assures me of eternal life⁹
and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready
from now on to live for him.¹⁰

¹ 1 Cor. 6:19-20
² Rom. 14:7-9
³ 1 Cor. 3:23; Titus 2:14
⁴ 1 Pet. 1:18-19; 1 John 1:7-9; 2:2
⁵ John 8:34-36; Heb. 2:14-15; 1 John 3:1-11
⁶ John 6:39-40; 10:27-30; 2 Thess. 3:3; 1 Pet. 1:5
⁷ Matt. 10:29-31; Luke 21:16-18
⁸ Rom. 8:28
⁹ Rom. 8:15-16; 2 Cor. 1:21-22; 5:5; Eph. 1:13-14
¹⁰ Rom. 8:1-17

Never found a friend quite like him again

I hadn't seen him in quite awhile. Slightly older, a little greyer, but my Dad's friend still had the same gentle voice as I had remembered. Time seemed to stop as we talked outside the front of the hardware store. We were only steps away from the same lumber yard where years earlier - before I was of school age - my Dad and I would visit almost every Tuesday, where he would catch up with his friends.

It didn't take long for us to start reflecting on things past...and the one person we had in common - my Dad. It doesn't happen as often as it used to, but I felt tears welling up when he said, "I still miss Don. He was 12 years older than me, but I've never found a friend quite like him again." Sixteen years after my dad died and I had just learned something special about him! I thought the bank containing memories of my Dad was as full as it was ever going to be.

I had never heard someone describe my Dad in that way - as a person whose friendship he's "never been able to find again". Dad and I were just starting to become friends when God called him home so suddenly and unexpectedly on April 30, 1999. So, I got a sense of what this man was saying as he described their friendship. He continued to tell me how they were always on the 'same page'. They looked at life through the same lens, and they were able to identify with one another. I saw, in that moment, the gift of friendship that this man had received through the knowing of my Dad...one that I have never been able to fully know.

I saw Jesus that day. I saw him weeping at the grave of his friend Lazarus. I saw him moved and troubled by the sorrow that was being expressed by Lazarus' friends. Jesus' humanity allowed him to feel the brokenness of this world that sin has caused, and he felt the impact of death's cold hand upon their lives. I heard him call to his friend, "Lazarus, come out." And, I heard him command, "Unbind him and let him go." John 11:1-45. And, death released his friend.

As life goes on, and death steals our loved ones away, we may never find the same type of friendships again here on earth. But Jesus has been there. He knows what it means to lose a friend. He has cried and I believe he cries with us when we mourn lost friendships. And, when we find new friends and laugh together, I believe Jesus laughs and smiles like proud parents would smile as they watch their children laugh and play with new found friends.

This morning, while getting ready to attend our worship service, I was singing, "What a friend we have in Jesus." Unknowingly, I would again hear this same song quoted by our pastor as he described how John Scriven, the author of this song, penned the words after losing not one, but two fiancées just days prior to the weddings. After losing two special people in his life, he was still able to say:

"Have we trials and temptations?
Is there trouble anywhere?
We should never be discouraged;
Take it to the Lord in prayer.
Can we find a friend so faithful
Who will all our sorrows share?
Jesus knows our every weakness;
Take it to the Lord in prayer."

If you've ever lost a friend whose friendship you feel you've been unable to replace, know that Jesus' friendship is greater than any earthly friendship will ever be. Take comfort, we'll be separated from our friends who have died in Christ for only a short time. Our separation is not permanent.

And, one day when Jesus returns, I'll hear him say to my Dad, "Don, come out. Unbind him and let him go." And, we'll be able to catch up...I'll ask him to take me to his favourite lumber yard...and we'll hang out...maybe go out for a chocolate dipped DQ style ice cream cone. 'Cause I'm sure if ice cream cones had been invented when John wrote Revelation, he would have included it in his description of The Golden City, The New Jerusalem!