Fire Ants!!!!

You really never know what your day will be like at the Christian Zheng Sheng College, most especially when you are hamstrung by a lack of language skills. Not that this would change the chaos, it would just give you an extra ten minute heads up. Cantonese is such a surreal mix of ancient roots and crazy modern culture that I feel I am caught up in an Asian Mennonite tribe trying to learn low German with nine tones.
Today was another one of those 'another days' where I was pin-balling around the campus as life happened around me, and one change after another sent me careening from one situation to the next. Today was, in fact, the day of the big...no, I mean BIG clean at the campus as everyone is preparing for the Lunar New Year. Every corner of the campus was being carefully scrutinized and sanitized for the festive season, which honestly leaves Christmas somewhat lacking. Lunar New Year just has so much history and culture behind it that Christmas feels like a cheesy ad trying to lure patrons back to its tinsel and commercial mayhem. Not that there isn't commercial mayhem here, with banks forming people into queues to get their crisp new banknotes for red packets, but I digress.
As I was wondering about trying to ascertain where my presence would be most useful Mr. Lao came up to me with an eager eyed student and asked if it would be OK for the students to "use the fire guns for the ants?" I was immediately intrigued, and even as I was about to query one of the numerous lines of questioning arising from his question I had a pretty decent idea of what was going on, but I also realized I needed to find out for myself exactly what was going on. Mr. Lao is a senior staff, and no slouch, but I was not going to hand off this assignment with a casual nod. No, I had to know. I told Mr. Lao it should be fine even as I headed off in the direction of the mayhem that must have been the cause of this request.
What I found was that a bunch of the desks ( a loose term) had been pulled back from the concrete wall that they normally back onto, and a fierce skirmish ensued as dozens of infuriated fire ants advanced upon the unsuspecting brothers. Seeing how, in our environment of schooled incarceration, any blip on the screen will be treated as a host of hostiles just to make life interesting, this was tailor made. Lines were quickly drawn and weapons swiftly brought to bear on the perceived antagonists who quit themselves admirably if the state of the study area gave any testimony. Unfortunately I arrived too late to take part in the main assault and was relegated to a minor role in the mop up operation. It was only when this was winding down that I caught wind of a second front. On the stairs of the kitchen there was a fiery confrontation taking place in very close quarters. The brothers had cornered their foe in a wooden cabinet door which already bore the scorch marks of the first few assaults. There was an inch and a half by one eighth gap in the plies of the plywood the enemy utilized to create a system of defensive tunnels. When I came upon the scene the brothers appeared to have it under control until I saw one of them beat the door on its corner with a jarring rap on the concrete. Cries of "WHAAAAA" (Cantonese for wtf, I'm sure) filled the air as fire ants literally poured out of the small gap in the door to meet their doom in a butane driven conflagration. Witnessing this left me little choice, I had to join in! When they put the door down to see if any more would come out I scooped it up and gestured for the "fire gun" which is a WD40 sized can of butane with a torch/ingniter on top that is like a low powered propane torch. With door and torch in hand I too bashed the enemy's stronghold on the floor, and gleefully incinerated the six legged troops who were, by this time, just trying to get clear of the carnage I'm sure. Not satisfied, though, I hoisted the door up and set upon the escape hatch with the torch until smoke was pouring from other pin holes, no doubt formed by the ants burrowing, and the bottom of the door was slowly being engulfed.
At this point I shut off the gun, and with a contented grin, handed the still flaming door to its owner. There were no cheers, or accolades, but the looks on all their faces gave it away. For this day I was still one of the boys.

It's What's Inside That Counts

I really had to look over what I wrote in that last post, because, seeing how I wrote it in the heat of the moment, there was a lot of room for error. It is true, though, that in the heat of the moment all of our guards tend to come down, and the things that are lying within can more easily find their way out. It is always in moments of importunity that the sheen comes off (usually along with the gloves), allowing all a clear view. Transparency is something that many people like to talk about in small groups and seminars, but what we see through an open window may not be what we expected.
Even now I am carefully choosing my words and thinking things through much more carefully than I did the other day. Maybe I shouldn't, especially because my intent here is to be more self effacing. See, when I wrote that rant it was triggered by years of internal struggles for which there have been few respites. Years of being in the church and wondering what on earth it was all about. Years of wondering about the glaring differences that I saw not only between scripture and my "church" experience, but also between those dagger like words and myself. Years of asking questions of other people who were struggling with the same thing, and putting the best face on it that they could muster. Years of this, in my home church alone, never mind the one I grew up in. It seems that after all these years there may finally be some light.
The most difficult thing about the light that usually makes its way to me is that it comes like a narrow shaft between the clutter of thoughts it means to illuminate. This is difficult because the narrow way is the only way to follow this shaft to its far greater Source. It illumines the dark, confining thoughts, revealing them for what they are, but I must divest myself of the flesh that they cling to so that I may climb that tangible shaft of light. In this case I do still see the things that I wrote as being valid, and I thank those of you who ventured to comment on them. The only thing that still remains is answering the question of what to do about it.
Blogs are wonderful things. This one has afforded me a place to feel that I have given voice to my thoughts, and I have truly enjoyed that. The awful thing about this particular situation is that the people whom I feel most need to read this, or whom I would like to talk to about this will likely never even know that this site exists. Even if they did read it, or overcome the miles separating us and sit for a coffee to work it out, the fact will still remain that it is up to me to act on this. It is up to me to overcome the crippling effects of institutionalization. It is up to me to peel off the diapers, and stand up. It is time for me to stop looking for leadership and step into it myself. This will probably never mean a stage and a mike, but it most definitely means being a father to my children, and a husband to my wife. It means taking hold of the things God has given me to do without always looking for someone to show me how or hold my hand. The people who could help me would be far more inclined if I came to them with my hands dirty anyway, either from a joy to see someone doing the 'stuff', or a desire to see if the dirt means I broke something of theirs. Fortunately I have found myself in such a place and the long hard climb has begun in earnest. There is so much work to be done, as those who know me should know, but God will be faithful to shine the light where it needs to shine, so the exit is clearly marked. I guess I would say with Paul that I have not yet attained, but I know where I want to go.

PS I sooooo desire to see my home church shine like it was meant to. The ones closest to us always seem able to draw out our truest ire, eh? Love you NL!

It Is Time To Call Out BS!!!!!

I am sitting here listening to yet another announcement from a leadership that just cannot seem to get its shit together. I have no other place to vent things out so if you have wondered over here it may not be as flowery as you may like, nor as poetic as I have been hoping this blog could be again. This is one of those times when hangin' my brain out to dry means that the drops will be carrying away some of the darker thoughts I have been carrying around.
I am so tired of church leadership!
I am also extremely tired of infantile congregations!
On the first point the main thing that wearies me to tears is the disease that seems to gnaw away at leader's minds until they no longer have the ability to look outside of their own calling, position, or gifting. It is unclear what this ailment should even be called, but it is clearly deadly. Part of the process of this malady is to produce a brain numbing pathogen that is emitted from the oral cavity, and after it enters the ears of nearby victims it nests at the base of the logic center until the flow of thoughts through this center are completely choked out. At this stage the victim becomes fully pliable to any further suggestions from the original host.
Leaders are constantly telling the folks out in the pews how we are supposed to be working out our issues with one another and walking in love with one another. We are challenged. We are reminded. We are invited up for prayer for these issues. Yet when these things occur within the folds of leadership it is vigorously defended as a patently private affair. The folks out in the pews are expected, not unlike kids in the midst of a divorce, to just suck it up and trust that mom and dad know what they are doing. This actually has the effect of keeping those of us who do not take to the stage in a state of immaturity, which is, incidentally, one of the cardinal sins that are railed against quite regularly from that same stage. It is time for leadership to step off from their podium of power and prestige, and get dirty with the rest of us. It is time for them to stop being so terrified of messes that happen as Christians mature. Attempting to keep us in diapers to contain the shit that happens is only causing a serious case of cheek rash that will hinder our ability to sit on even the most lavishly cushioned pew (or chair). When a person gets up with a nasty rash, and no Penaten® on hand, they will go home, or go to another leader who has some Penaten®, or perhaps start a group for others suffering from the same pain in the ass. Any way you slice it it doesn't come out pretty.
On the second point I have to say that institutionalized, infantile Christians are in serious need of having their butts kicked. They need to be weaned off of the bottles they clutch, like Sunday morning services for example, and start chewing on some real meat. Not just another "really good message", mind you. That kind of meat just sits in their under exercised colons, and causes those bloated expressions preachers get so tired of. Sunday morning is the Valium® of the diaper clad Christian masses. They get into an absolute tizzy if you threaten to change it, and will cry themselves into a coma if you ask them to take some responsibility for it. The biggest reason that they get so worked up about the crap that happens with leadership is that they have no idea who will change their diaper and burp them after the service. I think that is why pastors all over North America pat you on the back as they shake your hand at the door.
The meat Paul was referring to is not just some real tasty doctrine that we discuss with a practiced steak knife. The meat he was talking about was the protein packed food that will build muscle mass as the muscles are exercised.
At this point I will admit my own tendency to act like an institutionalized Christian, and my lack of desire to fight it for so many years. Fortunately I consider myself to be in recovery, and the rash is beginning to fade along with the pudgy thighs. Much of this has come from leaders who could not have been happy to just stand behind a pulpit week after week. They actually got down in the dirt with me. They actually let me grab hold of the tools, and start doing it myself. In fact their cheerfully turned away my requests for intervention, instead allowing me to figure it out.
The Sunday mornings I attend now feel very awkward, because with the rash disappearing I can finally think straight for myself. The way Sunday mornings are presented (North American a la carte) hold no interest for me at all any more, but thankfully there are leaders around who are willing to offer something very different. It is a savory dish, mostly because it is enjoyed just before going back to work where it will produce more muscle, and supply energy for the tasks at hand.
Hopefully you noticed that although the former rant about leaders did not end on so cheery a note as the latter about pew holders, the latter showed the relationship that is necessary to revitalize the church. Leaders who will get dirty in the trenches, elbow to elbow with the people they are leading. Not Sunday morning trenches either! The real ones we all slog through Monday to Saturday. Leaders who are not afraid of their charges maturing. Leaders who are not afraid to hand over the tools necessary for the work that is to be done. It is also about disciples who will kick off the diapers and get going for a change. Disciples who will grow up to become leaders in their own right. Disciples who are willing to yank the Sunday morning intravenous milk tube, and brave the withdrawals. Disciples who will actually do what their leaders have been teaching them instead of just discussing it over coffee to determine how 'biblical' it was.

Whew! I think that is it for now. If the next podcast has the same BS quotient as the one I listened to tonight I may just have to go at it again. Till then, may God bless your diapers off, and give you a hand down the stage stairs.

What To Do?

There are so many nonsensical things that flit about the hollow spaces between my brain and my mind that I am afraid sometimes that they may spill out into the daylight, leaving their muddy thought-prints all over my newly cleaned persona. I dare not even spill their guts here, for they will surely flee one after the other clutching like Jacob upon their elder. This would be impossible for me to hinder or direct, for their actions dart about behind my eyes like the undulating whine of a midnight mosquito. It is simply not safe. In fact even this bare acknowledgment will stir their muted voices as I lay me down to sleep. I pray O Lord....my mind to keep. Lord abide before my paths lest the nefarious pranksters spring from their concealment to turn me aside. Before they deceitfully detain me with the promise of rational resolutions, and insightful, if not edifying, discourse.
Perhaps I may also set myself to restful sleep before these meanderings take their greatest hold.

Another Day

One thing I have been learning from my time here at Christian Zheng Sheng College is a healthy view of how my life flows. It has been quite a change from back in Canada where I had a regular work week and weekends off. Here we work different shifts every month and there is no regularity from one roster to the next. I also get only six days off in a month instead of eight like back in K-town. My shifts here are N (for a 9:30 to overnight shift) D (for a 9:30 to 4 shift, usually the day after an N shift), and O (for day off). A normal two week roster will look something like this - N N D N D N D O N D N D O O, starting on a Monday and going to a Sunday. Not exactly normal for me coming from a construction background, and somewhat difficult to balance with a family waiting at home for me.
The old way of looking at my week is slowly fading and God is showing me how to let go of my preconceived notions of personal rights. I will still fight for a schedule that works for my family, but as for me personally I am finding that this is working quite nicely. I think part of the reason is that back home my workday was more about results than it is here, and this tended to form my ideas about work. Relationships were important to the workplace as they are here between the staff, but they were not the focus. Here the results are all about relationships, and this has been shifting my priorities quite drastically. The priorities are primarily interior ones that have to do with motivations and self awareness, but they are foundational to who I am as a person. I am slowly learning how to let things slide and enjoy the present with my Father who says He has tomorrow under control, which I will see when I get there, because it will be just like He was with me today, and yesterday.
Having my life freed from being ruled by a man-made routine and structure is teaching me how to mine each day for God's goodness and to see that my true rest lies with Him alone. The weekend is simply a foreshadowing of the eternal rest I will enjoy with my Father and His family when all this dust blows away. This allows me to see things differently, because if my eternal weekend is about relationships and dwelling with God, then everyday can be weekend if I want it to be. Like Paul said, though, I am so not there yet, but this is a road map. The best thing is that I love the views this trip offers, and the Guide is an absolute blast to be with, so the hazards of the journey will be manageable.
All that being said I am at the end of a D going on to an O, so I think I will go and get ready to catch the sampan home. Cheers!

Stung Again

I am so glad that we have the scriptures to guide us as we trundle through this life of faith! Paul said that we have all these lives lived out on the big screen of the bible for us to learn from their mistakes and victories. It would be so difficult if we didn't have these documented for us. Where would we be without them?
I have been reading Joshua lately and discovering him all over again. He really is quite an amazing figure in Israel's history and yet his foibles are out there for all to see. The last few chapters I have been reading have shown how he was stung by the same mistake more than once. He had a tendency to turn to his own counsel or the wisdom of other leaders before he would seek God. After doing this he was both times (in my current reading) humiliated, firstly when God gave him a tongue lashing after the first attack on Ai, and secondly when the congregation chided him for covenanting with the Gibeonites. Both instances had huge ramifications for the people he was leading, as well as historical implications that he could never have foreseen. If he had, I wonder if he would have acted differently?
It is easy from the sidelines of my study chair to flip a page or two and see these things rather clearly, but for him it was the life he was leading minute by minute. It is also easy for me to identify with Joshua as I too have been stung multiple times by the same old character flaws. Stung hard, too, even with the insights offered by these historical events. Stung in the same places. Stung, and yet giving thanks that the stings are farther apart than they used to be.
I wasn't stung huge today, but this passage has still given me pause to reflect.

Did The Song Remain The Same?

There is such a curious link with the past that causes endless ripples and surges to come unbidden to the shores of the present. They typically come to wash away the sand castles I have built and remind me of the truth of where I stand, but every so often some piece of a forgotten dream washes up along with the riptide of deep ocean currents. Some long abandoned view, last remembered the last time I remembered. The last time I remembered it was the last time that I paused from the sandcastle competition long enough to let my spirit drift out over the places my consciousness has relegated to the evenings spent behind closed eyes. Places that stand out like the chocolate truffle that fell from someone else's cart in the whole wheat aisle. I pause, frozen on the beach. Was this tossed aside from some other life? Is it something they want me to buy off a table that stands sucking the marrow from the last pulse of adrenaline in the stadium hall? Do they want me to fuel their cruise, or is it a waterlogged invitation to stride out past the waves?

The merchandise hangs dead from booths, like trophies from the hunt the throngs have never tasted. The dreams of living dreamers hang thick in the air like bloody chum only the hunters smell. The primping pimps and princesses who shoot caged game have nothing to tell as they sell their empty dreams on glossy magazines, but the woods sodden stalker tears his prey to keep the hunger at bay. They spill the blood on the stage and across the page, it's crimson lure seeping past the theater seat and spilling freely into the street. Many, like dogs, will lap insatiably at the gore while few will rise to spill their own. Few will know the truth of the tale they have been told. Few will know the maddening tempter lying just off the shallows, just where the sound of the shore melds with the deep rhythm of unbounded places.
Tonight I am turning over some driftwood in my hands. Tonight I stand at the lapping edge of the abyss' ever moving borders, and I ponder.


Dedicated to a small tribe of driftwood carvers in Saskatoon. Peace to you.

Re-Reading History

God has a way of bringing change through my life and thoughts like the leaves of Autumn on the mountainsides of the valley I once called home. The leaves on those trees are in the final throes of death, yet this passing fills the landscape with such extravagant beauty that the smoky, backyard funeral pyres, and damp open burials on the forest floor never enter my mind. All I see is a mystical panorama drawing my senses out of anything ordinary. So too are my thoughts in the throes of death as the Father sweeps over my days like an inexorable passing of one season into the next. He walks me through green pastures, along quiet brooks, and smoky, desperate valleys, all the while showing me the constancy of His way through all of it.
This may all sound somewhat melodramatic, but it has been true that as I move along with the Father I find that the view is never static, and it seems that every situation that I come across, or truth that He teaches me is like removing another piece of my rubble that has blocked me from seeing who He really is. When these moments happen the emotions inside of me mirror the wonder I feel while drinking in the sweeping colors of my most beloved season.
Currently my Father is doing this to me on so many levels. Not the challenges that I spoke of in the last post, but rather tantalizing little revelations that draw me along to search for more.
Today it came as I was reading a very familiar passage of scripture; the kind you can just skim by because you think you know it so well. Joshua 1 has been on our radar ever since someone gave it to us as a prophetic word regarding who we are, and where God wants to take us. I have heard so many preachers teaching from this passage that I was becoming dull to what it was saying. I was not allowing any more layers to be peeled back. This morning I noticed something I hadn't before. It has changed how I see the phrase "Be strong and very courageous".
I had always taken this to be either some kind of a general piece of solid advice, or a specific command regarding the battles that were to come. Joshua surely needed to be strong and courageous to face the foes and divine strategies that were ahead of him, but there is something else here that I missed before.

Moses my servant is dead; now therefore arise, cross this Jordan, you and all this people, to the land which I am giving to them, to the sons of Israel. ³Every place on which the sole of your foot treads, I have given it to you, just as I spoke to Moses. ⁴"From the wilderness and this Lebanon, even as far as the great river, the river Euphrates, all the land of the Hittites, and as far as the Great Sea toward the setting of the sun will be your territory. ⁵"No man will be able to stand before you all the days of your life Just as I have been with Moses, I will be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you. ⁶"Be strong and courageous, for you shall give this people possession of the land which I swore to their fathers to give them. ⁷"Only be strong and very courageous; be careful to do according to all the law which Moses My servant commanded you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left, so that you may have success wherever you go. ⁸"This book of the law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it; for then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have success. ⁹"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go."

In the first command God assures Joshua that he will accomplish what God is sending him out to do, because He says that (vs6) "you shall give". This doesn't leave any room for doubt when one considers Who is saying it. The key I found was in what God says in verse 7. He reiterates the command to be strong and courageous with the modifier 'very', and opens it with the word 'Only'. The only is there as a qualifier to the previous statement. It means that the previous statement is absolutely resolved on the condition that the second part is carried out. The second part is not about how to fell the mighty men of the lands of Canaan, but rather it is a statement of how to stay in relationship with God. It really piqued me today when I read that. God told Joshua to be strong and courageous about being in relationship with Him!
For some reason I think that part of me is being resuscitated from too many Valium™ Jesus portrayals, and smiling blond Jesus' in fields with kids on His arms. I am awaking to the fact that as C.S. Lewis so aptly put it,"He is not a tame lion.". To enter into a relationship with the living God is a fearful thing. The Israelites knew this because they saw the smoke, and fire. They heard the fearsome thunderings. Joshua knew it because he was there for all of this, and was spared any of our watered down portrayals of the Lord of Hosts. God was calling him closer and He knew that Joshua would need strength and courage to face this, and He also knew that apart from relationship with Him none of the above listed promises would ever become reality.
Let's not forget that the apostle John laid his head on Jesus' breast at the last supper, and yet he completely collapsed at the site of the resurrected Lord of all glory. Jesus told him the same thing He told Joshua,"Fear not". We are welcome in His presence, but if we can easily traipse in without a thought of who we are standing before then perhaps we are truly only visiting an imaginary friend. Hearing the words "Fear not" should be our awe, wonder and joy as we commune with the Eternal I AM.

Day by Day

I could almost have titled this one "Letting the Pieces Fall", but that may have come off a little melodramatic. It honestly feels that way though. It feels like there is precious little I can do to stop it without removing my foot from the path, and the only peace I have is when I surrender to it. As I write this it comes to me that this is the only way that I can travel and still follow my Lord. It is, in fact, the road that my feet having been walking for many years now, but some seasons seem to test the footwear more than others.
My diary shows that this time has been, and continues to be, the most challenging one since a certain sojourn in a certain prairie city. Now as then, there is no place in my life that offers any ease. Work is challenging on so many levels, family life is no cake walk as we transition to an entirely new life, marriage is good, but we have to consciously work at it. There are no real male friendships for me to draw from, and time for personal space would have an IPO higher than bottled youth. To be pressed on every front like this leaves me only one place to go for peace and solace, and that is the way and the heart of my Father. To say I do this perfectly would be a joke at best. To say I do it well would even feel like a stretch. To say that I do it at all is just pointless masochism, because if I didn't I would have already bailed. Truth is, the only thing that keeps me moving forward is the hope of my Father. As I wrote to a friend the other day, hope is a deadly weapon against our foe, but expectations are poison to the spirit. So I find myself somewhere in the middle of doing, and just surviving.
God is good, though, and gives encouragement and strength in its time. Never when I think I need it most, but when He knows I do. The heat of the day never disappears, but the cool winds do come, as do the pools of refreshing. I am thankful for this because if it were not so I would not be able to stand. It is hard to imagine how ugly that would look. I didn't like the view that giving up afforded from that prairie city and I certainly don't like it from here. The one thing I do know is that if I had packed it in in the prairies we would never have set foot in Hong Kong. The other thing I know is that persevering then brought me to a new depth of relationship with the Father, so this gives me even more hope here and now.
I certainly do not feel like any kind of spiritual superman. My Father once told me that my worries about that were groundless, because it is all found in Christ anyways. It is good that I too am found to be in Christ. This will be my rest.

Checkmate

I have recently started to play chess again after a couple of decades or so. It is a truly fascinating game which I have no illusions of mastering, but would love to at least enjoy on a recreational level. My kids have also shown an interest as I have recently purchased a nice set from the stalls at Stanley Market here in Hong Kong. It has the pieces carved from ox bone in the fashion of emperors and warriors, which adds a certain enjoyment to the whole process of playing.
I think the thing that fascinates me most about chess is the whole aspect of forcing the other player into moves until you finally pin then down in checkmate. That sensation of helplessness is unlike any other. This is what lead me to the though I would like to share today. It all revolves around the resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ and the "Checkmate!" that has resounded throughout the cosmos ever since. It has the same effect on all of us as we survey the board and try our best to see if there are any other options, or perhaps our opponent missed something that will allow us to escape the inevitable outcome. For example, there is the whole argument about evolution....Checkmate! What does it matter if there is or is not a shred of truth to evolution? Christ rose from the dead. Perhaps there is are many ways to heaven.....oops...Checkmate! Christ rose from the dead, not Buddha, not Vishnu, not Mohammad, not Freud, nor any other pretender, only Christ. What about all the evil in the world today?.....there it is again...Checkmate! Christ rose from the dead. The choice is upon us all as to what we will do with this. It really doesn't matter what comes up the resurrection of Christ trumps it all, quite resoundingly. Please don't come out with some lame new Dan Brown styled pseudo science trying to refute what has been a point of fact for 2000 years either. Those so-called hypothesis's are laughable at best.
The nice thing about this checkmate is that there are battles that rage against all believers in the court of their own minds, and this gavels all of them down as empty, unsubstantiated objections against the truth of Christ. It is somewhat debilitating when you are on the receiving end of checkmate, but oh how wonderful when you hear the Lord sound this out like a trumpet before all your enemies!!
CHECKMATE!!!!