Distractions

Another night descends on Ha Keng, and I am left with much time on my hands and many thoughts on my mind. Today one of our staff finished his three year tenure here at the school, and we bid him a fond farewell at the pier. He was very close with many of the brothers and one young fellow was shedding tears as he headed back up the hill to the village. Watching him leave made me consider how long I will be here, and in what ways this time will change my life. Evenings like this afford me a lot of time to reflect on things of this nature.
As I was attempting to do exactly this, nature itself wandered into the office tonight with a cool distraction for a mind pigeonholed by its own logic. It was as simple as a little gecko-like lizard crawling across the walls of our portable office in search of dinner. I spotted him while I was on the phone with my wife telling her about all my mental meandering, and he meandered his way across the wall securing a brief commentary from me each time he wiggled a little further. My wife became convinced that he was indeed hunting me, and that he was perhaps related to another little fellow who, in a moment of obvious distress, hurled himself at us from the top of our shower door as we closed in to see what it was he was doing there in the first place. It seemed this was indeed probable when the gecko left the wall for the inverted environment of the ceiling. At the same time he changed his heading for a more direct line to the patch of ceiling immediately above my bald spot. We had a laugh as we considered what kind of sound this would make seeing how the distinctive smack of his bare body hitting my bare head would be mixed, I’m sure, with a scream much like that of a schoolgirl. By this time I was far too distracted by the gecko to continue to offload my other distractions upon my dear wife’s psyche and so bid her a good night.
It was not long afterwards that my greenish little buddy set up between the two fluorescent lights right above me to see if he could snag one of the winged creatures that frequent them in the evenings. His patience was soon rewarded when he spotted a good sized moth a little ways off from his position. He stealthily made his way along the ceiling tiles to a place where his lightening speed could be brought to bear upon his prey, and settled cat-like into position. Unfortunately the darting grab he performed did not pay off as a rather relieved moth fluttered out the office door. Not to be put off, my friend made his way to the other light where a moth that I had scared landed within his line of sight. I watched in amazement as he crept into the shadow that the light fixture cast to continue his approach towards the pudgy little moth. The lizard’s technique was so careful and patient that I could not help but be drawn into the unfolding drama. As he inched ever closer I found myself verbally coaching him, and hoping the moth would remain oblivious. Indeed the moth did remain still right up until his head was trapped in the gecko’s mouth. It was quite a battle as the moth furiously fluttered to wrench itself free, but all to no avail. After a few minutes the wings ceased and the swallowing began. It was a super sized meal for the little guy, but he choked it back none the less.
He is still sitting up there as I finish this, and, thankfully, my Father set my mind at ease once again as only He can.
Good night.

Phoning Home

Sometimes I forget how young my children really are until I hear them on the phone. Suddenly their voices sound so small, and almost every time I find myself remembering that they are still just children. When I thought about it tonight it occurred to me that it may even be that way when they are my age, and I am in my seventies. I thought perhaps it is more than just their voices. Perhaps it is how they talk, what they consider to be important to a phone conversation, or just the fact that they are my kids. I do not know exactly. What I do know is that at this age it is quite adorable. For example, my youngest has this thing about passing the phone to the next person after he is done talking to me. He will tell me, as he is passing it to them, “They will be on riiiiiight noooow.” He says this as he presses his head next to theirs so that the phone is never away from someone’s ear long enough for the call to be lost (at least this is our best supposition). Then there is my daughter, who is already rehearsing for her early teens by practicing the art of the extended goodbye. It won’t be too long before we are hearing, “No, you hang up first!” emanating from under her bedroom door. My oldest son seems to be the most secure in talking on the phone, and displays a certain maturity, or at least a desirous emulation of it, when I talk to him. With each one of them though there is this gentle reminder; they’re still children.
This evening it caused me to think just a little further, and I found myself wondering what it sounds like when I call home to my Father. From my end of things I feel that I have a fairly decent grip on the whole prayer thing, even though consistency has always suffered, and I have even read a book or two about prayer and its practice. There has been prayer group participation, small group prayer times, and even the odd prayer on a mic from ‘the front’, and at no time did someone say, “Wow, you really belted it out, but maybe you should read up a bit more on this whole praying thing.” There have even been times when I have prayed for someone, and afterwards they said that God really spoke to them through the prayers. Hmmm. Those would be the times when I know it was God and not me. All that aside though, I still wonder, what does it sound like to the one who created heaven and earth? What does my little lost voice sound like in His courts? Scripture says our prayers smell good; like incense actually. What I have not come across is a description of what the prayers of the saints sound like.
If, in fact they sound like my kids do on the phone this would revolutionize my prayer life. Gone would be all those attempts at loftiness, and grandiose language. Where is there place for that kind of posturing when you are talking to your Father? Gone would be the endless contrivances meant to assure me that I have said the right thing, so that I will get what I have asked for. I know I appreciate it when my kids get to the point, and the little manipulations they try are actually rather annoying because I want them to know that I am approachable; that I love them. Gone would be so much of the physical posturing. Not all, mind you, just the song and dance kind of stuff. I have a really hard time seeing that impressing Him anyway. Gone would be my current sense of what it means to travail in prayer, replaced by a true wrestling with my Father. Anything short of that will simply look like whining from this perspective anyway, wouldn’t it? Wrestling with God is a time when we finally come to terms with His power, sovereignty, holiness, and love. Daddy gently powers us to the ground, and we submit; perhaps with beads of blood on our brow, but we submit. The imagery is not referenced lightly, because Jesus wrestled more mightily than anyone ever has, or will, and for a far greater request than any of us can fathom, and in the end He yielded to the Father.
All of this also leaves me with the question of what actually gets through to the throne, and what is left wriggling on the prayer room floor after we are done. Would I even recognize it from my old perspective or would I just think that all the sweat and effort was true soldiering for Christ and glory? Would I be nearly as impressed? If I truly saw things from this perspective would I perhaps laugh harder; and cry more sincerely? Would I leave with a sense of achievement, or understanding? Would I be threatened by that much boldness, and nakedness? Truly, much would change for me, if only I knew that I was a child.

Who's Your Daddy?

It is a strange thing to set your feet on the land you have dreamed of for so long, even if most people here do not consider Hong Kong to be part of China. The PRC government says it is, so that is good enough for me.
We waited for five years to be back here. During those years we went through many times when we just wanted to chuck the whole thing and see if we can simply make a life for ourselves in Canada. I had a great job with a premier renovating company where I was one of the lead hands. The town we lived in was a beautiful place to live and many people would have considered us lucky to be there. Of course there were also many times when the desire to be back in China was excruciating. For all of those years we felt a certain sense of inner loneliness as we struggled to make ourselves understood to those around us. This included family and friends, all of whom let us know that they loved us, but it was always difficult to connect in that place of dreams.
Being here now seems much different from how I thought it might look. It was to be expected, because following God is always full of surprises, but some surprises really cause you to grab Daddy's hand, if you know what I mean. Part of being here that is really hitting home for me now is a deep loneliness that takes hold every so often. I knew times of this back in Canada, but this is different. There is nothing truly familiar to take hold of, and no one familiar to really talk to. Worse yet is the fact that I have never been a man of many friends, always I have sought deep friendships over surfacey acquaintances. This causes issues because the surfacey stuff is actually necessary for getting to the deeper things.
All this is just to get to this one point. Tonight I was feeling particularly isolated, and decided to do a little bible reading. This evening I was in 1 Samuel and the passages were telling of David's fleeing from Saul. Something stood out to me this time. There was one time when David ran to find Samuel, and when Saul sent men after him to bring him back for execution the Spirit of God fell on them , and they all began to prophesy. This happened with the next batch of soldiers, and eventually with Saul himself. The strange thing that happened next was that David ran from that place. He ran from the place were the abiding presence of God manifested in a supernatural gaurding of his persn. He ran to find Jonathan.
I believe I am also running to try and find a Jonathan. Perhaps I should not be. Perhaps it is time to stay with the presence of the One whose eyes can search my every depth. The One whom I cannot fool. Not to be too cold, but perhaps I should be looking for the Spirit of the living God to fill me instead of a human friendship. This is truly the most difficult hurdle in coming to this land of dreams.

Lingering Thoughts

I am constantly amazed by how easy it is to become distracted from looking at Christ as I am commanded in Colossians 3:1-3. It is a constant source of concern for me. Here at the school we end each day, and begin each day with scripture reading, which has the effect of realigning my focus. It has been an invigorating exercise for someone who always struggled with this kind of routine. The only issue I have is with how quickly I change gears from arranging my thoughts according to God’s word to organizing my day, worrying about tomorrow, or just simply wondering off in my mind looking for distraction. This is actually quite disturbing because when I catch myself drifting away it is nearly impossible to draw my thoughts back to where they belong. Disturbing because of the peace I relinquish every time my focus shifts. Disturbing in its obvious hostility towards the desire of Holy Spirit in me. Disturbing in the fact that it is my choice to whom I will submit.
My nature has always been to avoid authority through determined rebellion, and self-destruction, and this has carried through all of the deep work God has done in my life, resurfacing almost daily. While there has been an immense amount of change from who I used to be, the general makeup of who I am remains as a stranger to the mind of Christ. It is that part that will always resist the forward work of Holy Spirit in me as Paul wrote of in Romans 7:23. It may be that this should cause me to rejoice in Christ, esteeming His infinite grace, which enlightens my eyes to even perceive this malady, but I cannot seem to help harboring a quiet despairing within my thoughts. This familiar little creature has been closeted away in my mind for many years. It may also be that this little creature of despair is something that I stubbornly cling to, so that the cycle of reasoned rebellion can be fed.
Despair and rebellion are connected in a parasitic symbiosis from which there is no rational escape, the only way is to ignore it. That is not a typo. This may sound like a descent into heresy and defeat, but the truth is that I cannot keep my eyes trained on this thing while setting my eyes on things above. Every ‘rational’ fiber in me strains against this simple revelation. It just makes no sense. To win I must cease struggling. To win I must admit defeat. To win I must finally concede. To win I must ignore the war and set my eyes on the Victor.
It was a number of years ago that God gave me a vision of a huge, broad valley populated with masses of people who were wandering about aimlessly. The general direction of their meandering was towards the valley’s end where it ascended up into towering mountains. At their feet was rain soaked earth inundated from the dark clouds swirling above. The feet of the people were caked over with thick muck as they slid and slipped about. The primary thing I noticed about these people was that none of them ever looked anywhere but at their feet, and from their lips came only words of defeat, and hopelessness. This is when I heard the voice of the Lord calling for the people to look up, and when I, as one of those people, looked up everything changed. I first saw a brilliant rainbow arcing across the clouded skies that held my gaze from returning to the ground. The sight of the rainbow also made me begin to look about for the source of the sunlight. Turning my eyes from the valley’s end I saw in the sky that the dark clouds ceased their dominion only s short distance away and bright, sunlit sky cut across them like a fiery barrier. It was then that I realized that the rain was actually a blessing from God, and that all I had to do was stop looking down and lift my eyes up. This had the automatic result of turning my head and thus the direction of my travels. This did not remove the mud from my feet, but continued travel towards the light would by degrees accomplish this feat. If I stopped to wash my feet in the rain I would never leave the valley, but rather lift one foot to wash while placing the other into the mire, which meant I would have to lift that one to wash it and place the clean one back in the muck. This would be a pointless, cyclical exercise in momentary glee.
I believe that this struggle will become easier as the years go on, if I continue to make my focus and upward one. If, on the other hand, I continue to either look down at how muddy my feet are, or continue to try to wash my feet clean I will never cross that dark boundary into the dry ground. The mud is simply a gracious reminder of why I need to keep looking the right way.

We All Live In A.......

There was a time when I never thought I would know what family truly meant, nor what it would mean to be a member of such a thing. My family, like too many others, was broken early on in my life, and left me with a constant awareness of lack. This was a lack that it took years to realize could not be filled with "stuff" no matter how pretty, or powerful. In fact, stuff just tended to erode away the edges of an already abysmal hole that lived like a sucking wound in the midst of my chest. The opening line of this post, however alludes to the fact that these things no longer elude me, and that is simply because the grace of God reaches much farther than I could ever run. His mercy also reaching through more time than I could imagine living that way.
The place He led me to to begin the healing process was a church that existed as a kind of spiritual hospital for myself and many others like me. Fortunately it smelled more like incense than high test floor cleaner, and the food, at the backdoor food bank was not even near kindred to actual hospital food, but in the spirit it was most assuredly a hospital. The thing about this hospital was that it wasn't all about drugs and surgery, but rather it was about renewal.
Now "back in the day" if I were to have said renewal everyone would have understood it to be a euphemism for a Holy Spirit outpouring. While this was the power behind the renewing I am talking about it was not heart of it. The renewal that I saw happen was the kind Paul spoke of in Romans 12:1-8. The renewing of the mind is at the core of true change of any kind in our lives. Without a change of mind no change of heart is lasting, nor transforming. The change that happened for me, and many others, was a change in our understanding of what it meant to be family. The intersection of the two aforementioned meanings of renewal would manifest (hehe) in our meetings when Holy Spirit would begin to powerfully fill people to minister to one another. When this happened I became a witness to people pouring themselves out sacrificially to help bear up one another with whatever God gave them to do it with. Many times this sacrifice was a simple one of time, and the clock on the wall was completely forgotten as we gathered around to uphold a brother or sister in any way we could. Other times the sacrifices ran much deeper and the commitments extended far past a simple evening of prayer and fellowship. These were my first tastes of family the way God intended it to be, and it was truly intoxicating.
The sad thing about this story, though, is that I saw this all dwindle away over the course of a few short years as the people began to enjoy the rush more than the people. Many of them honestly thought that the power of the Spirit is what had been bonding them together when in truth it was the binding love (Colossians 3:14) that was releasing the power of God's Spirit. People began to jostle about in the importance of their relative giftings. People began to feel rejected all over again as their own particular apportionment from God was weighed in the scales of human conceit, and only by these scales were they subtly judged to be less. Of course no one would have the brass to actually speak of this belief out loud if they actually recognized it in themselves, but all the signs were clearly posted. The unspoken, and wholly unbiblical hierarchy of God's favor settled over us like dark clouds at a summer wedding. The party was officially over.
There were many spiritual divorces, and physical divorces as well. Family lost the sense of holiness. Once again it became a label for these biological unions we have with each other through marriage and reproduction. The larger spiritual fact became nothing more than a fridge magnet. There were, as there always are, remnants of God's gracious revelation here and there, but they became the exception rather than the norm. These days there is a tremendous hunger for the power of those days, but there is a very limited understanding of the nature of that power that once flowed so richly. I do believe that by God's grace and mercy, so amply poured out to one such as myself, He will restore all that has been lost, but just as He did it with me it will be on His terms not ours.
This is a long lead up to my real, and final point for this blog which is that family is what this is all about. All this "church", "para-church", "emergent church", and even"underground church" stuff is really about family. It is about a love that binds us together in a fashion that raw power never could. A love that will bind us when all these gifts are laid down, and we finally dwell forever in the eternal presence of love Himself. These gifts we are given have nothing to do with some kind of hereafter hierarchy. They have nothing to do with personal merit. They have nothing to do with us at all. They are given to be given away so that others know that they are highly valued and esteemed in a family whose only creed is love. To some there are great measures poured out, which is balanced by great requirements. To some there are smaller measures poured out, and these are balanced by the inverted system of honoring that is foundational in God's kingdom. To neither is there given anything earned, but only that which pleases God, and brings glory to His name. This gives us all the latitude we need to not only get over ourselves, but to also get over the others we rate ourselves by. The only true measure is Christ, and we had better never start to suit up for that comparison test.
Be blessed in all you have received. Bless all with all you have received.

PS This goes out to one particular family member that I particularly highly value.

Saturated Again

So here I am in the staff room again with too many thoughts flying around my head, and nowhere for them to go except a piece of paper or a blog. If I were to commit them to paper I would be the only one to know about it, because anything I have ever written has never made it further than my wife’s eyes or perhaps one close friend. If I blog them, on the other hand, there is a slightly larger small circle of people who will be able to share the meanderings of my mind. There is also a slight chance that a team of digital archaeologists may stumble across them one day, and even their bemused looks, as they peruse my ramblings, would give me a small sense of satisfaction. That has always been my core reason for writing anything; sharing. That may actually make this post a little strange, because I am writing this during the sharing time that we have at the school every morning. If there is someone to translate I will try to partake in the proceedings, but today I just don’t have the energy to go through it.
I really do have a lot of time in my own thoughts here due to the language barrier. It is a lot of work mentally for the students, staff, and myself to communicate in a meaningful way. This becomes apparent when a few of the staff are together having a chat and there is never even a sideways glance at the Canadian guy sitting there. At other times someone will include me for a short time, but since this totally ruins the natural flow of a good conversation I will soon find my place phased out. This makes it very noticeable, because the majority of the staff can speak English at a conversational level. There really is no malice attached whatsoever, it is just difficult to make it flow. This whole scenario has put me in the place of being more of an observer than a partaker most of the time. Even when I am trying my best to piece together what someone is saying in broken English, or trying my best to strings some phrases together in Cantonese there is more observation going on than there is communication. It is kind of like talking to a baby. The infant doesn’t understand your words yet, so their senses are used to take in different kinds of communication, and information. This helps them form a structure for future communication, and a basic framework for linguistic interpretation.
There are a number of students who have enough language skill that we can go a bit deeper, and these are treasured occasions for me due to their rarity, and humanity. The students knew this as soon as I came to the school. One of the first things they would ask me was whether I was lonely. They also commented that maybe my fellow Canadian staff member wouldn’t be as lonely now with another Canuck around the place. I do hope that this connection between countrymen will help both of us get through some of the more difficult times here, but it would be folly to rely on it. The workplace is normally very transitory these days, and I think ministry work is even more so.
In the end I have found the importance of leaning into God everyday since I have been here. The truth of my need for Him in everything I do stares me in the face daily in a way I never knew back home. This does not mean that I always avail myself of His presence at every moment, this would constitute the perfection the Father found only in His Son, but the bare knowledge of this daily need is comfortingly humbling. I also find myself hoping that I don’t just stop at the revelation, but rather that I would act on it in an ever increasing dependency. Allowing my self to decrease, so that His all sufficiency may increase.

Things That Make You Go Hmmmmm

Hey all, do you ever have those moments when you are pretty sure God is opening your eyes to something you would most likely have missed without His help. When you try to tell the story to someone who has never had the experience of a conversation with God they will usually give a weird look, but those who know will always understand the weirdness of it. Anyway, we did this prayer walk today with a friend from Canada, and this evening we got to looking around on Google earth at each others' home towns. Pretty cool. After saying good nights and goodbyes I came back to the computer and my wife showed me how you can do street level views on Google maps, so out of curiosity I tried to locate the stadium of the Tottenham Hotspur English Premier League team (long story). The first location I came to was actually on Love Lane in Tottenham, North London. This seems appropriate as I was only a double click away from this sign in an underpass (see below). You see, when we walk the way of love we will walk in dominion. We will be triumphant internationally, seeing God's kingdom and glory in the earth!

View Larger Map

Oh yeah, just as an aside, the dates of this conference are right around (if not right on) when we were told it would be possible for me to fly to HK and check things out. Hmmmmm.

A Frank Confession

Ok, ok, I know I live in Hong Kong, and work at a Chinese school. I also know that it was on my heart for years to return to China (apologies to all the Hong Kongers who don't like that connection), but as far as cuisine goes my mouth is about 2000 miles west of here where the spices are as rich and colorful as the people. I am talking about India! Wow! I am just so in love with their food. If I was eating Indian all the time I would be as fat as the buddha and twice as happy!
I just had to get that off my chest since coming home from our second date to an Indian restaurant. This time it is a place on the waterfront of Cheung Chau called Moroccos. Absolutely loved the food, and the people have such a welcoming and lively way about them. We really need to visit the country soon.
Anyway, that is all I need to say about that right now. I am stuffed and happy!

(Cheers Amrita!!)

Catching Up

It has been seven months since we arrived here in Hong Kong, and even though we knew this would change our lives I don't think we ever could have imagined the ways that these changes would occur. Adapting to a new culture is something we have done before when we moved to Shanghai, China for six months; and it was, as promised by our Father, a very good time of training for the future assignment He had in mind. The confines of language and cultural differences were quite a bit tighter there than they are here, but Dad eased things considerably by setting us in a position where I was earning twice the income that I was used to making in Canada. This allowed us a a very reasonable comfort zone, not to mention Western comfort food. Further to this, we were told in very clear ways that we were not to be witnessing verbally to people at work or elsewhere. This particular stipulation gave me more discomfort than I would have anticipated, but I followed it as best I could at work.

Here in Hong Kong we have not had the same intense feelings of culture shock that we experienced in Shanghai, and at times this has almost been disorientating in itself. There has been an abiding expectation that we should have these weird and wonderful sensations all the time. The truth is that I have been somewhat disappointed by the lack of wonder I have felt being here. Even seeing the sights and such, while it is cool, and I dearly love photographing all the back alley scenes that are so commonplace here, does not excite me the way it did on the mainland. In fact I am currently enjoying a week off of work and have no plans to go sightseeing at this time simply because it really doesn't do that much for me. The planned excursions have been replaced by a series of accidental tourist outings where we stumble upon some local area we have not seen yet, and this is by far more enjoyable than the trips we have made to the "expected" tourist destinations. I think it is part of our desire to not be tourists, but to rather be people who experience a place by actually living there.

Much of the culture shock that we are experiencing has come in the context of the school that I work at. This is doubly strange because it is a Christian school for recovering drug addicts, youth offenders, and the like. The Christian context of this work all within a foreign context can really throw us some strange curves. In Shanghai I was working for a secular company in a decidedly secular setting. This made my time there make a little more sense and it pressed fewer buttons in me. Overall I had a very deep sense of purpose while I was in Shanghai, but the purposes of my Father were the source for me, and the secular setting made it all seem a little heroic. Here in Hong Kong it can get a bit more scrambled because of the ministry context, and the expectations this always brings with it. Most often it becomes akin to a special forces unit where you are all on the same side, but there is an underlying current of competitiveness where it concerns sacrificial living. This standard is the high-water mark for anyone in a labeled, organized, administrated ministry. How much can you give up and still keep smiling? How much abuse can you take and still say ,"Praise the Lord!"? How much? It's Gold's Gym on your knees, if you know what I mean.
We had hoped that things would be different here, but it seems Christendom is what it is wherever you go above ground. I say above ground simply because I have no context for the below ground church. I have always hated the machinations of the organized church, even though I have mostly fought the good fight from within its sometimes suffocating confines. Don't get me wrong here, though, working with God's people is also an immense pleasure as well, simply because there is still an abiding awareness of who the Boss really is. If this did not exist here we would have already applied for an exit visa!
The main issue for us always seems to come down to two things. Firstly there is far too much mirror gazing as we admire all the things God does through us. It seems that we cannot put down our mirror long enough to see that we are not alone in all of this, and when we see someone else with a mirror we very quickly become defensive, elitist, or obnoxious (Lord help us if it is all three). This has been a longstanding issue with ministries, and yet when Jesus' disciples tried it on Him He told them to take a pill and check what was really important. Secondly is the way that ministries always end up making families come in second place to the ministry. If you are giving your all for Jesus then He will babysit the little darlings while you are off saving the world. This is probably why Paul had to tell people to restrain themselves from joining his ministry when he came to town. He told them that if they had no wife and kids then they were free to do whatever, but if they did have a family then there were concerns they needed to address that would make his lifestyle impossible for them. It really seems to be a no brainer, but if God felt it needed to be in the word then I guess we need to hear it, right?
These are the two main fronts that I feel the most pressure on, especially since they both cut across some of my most core beliefs. If you feel led to pray for us personally please include these issues as the Lord leads you. As you do this please remember that these concerns come in the midst of great joys as well. Please remember that we love the people we are serving with, and if it is Gold's Gym I do see them as far buffer than I. We want to temper all our concerns with an overarching love for the people of our Father.

The Brothers of Zheng Sheng!

Where To Start

There is soooo much I could say here, but it is late and I really need to get to bed. Everything is a swirl. I am here, I am there, I am pressed, I am in awe. I truly want to spend some time and do a long blog post with pics and everything. Please be patient. Our computer is not our friend right now, and time does not seem to be on my side.

I really want to spend some time with those who read this blog. Love to have a fire in the front yard, laugh, share, have some wine, and mystify the people who file past what must be the longest fence on the island. Check back before the weekend, and see what you think.