Written by Jeff Alexander
Who was St. Monica, other than the namesake of the city in southwest California? On this Mother’s Day, it was interesting to hear from Father David Hart the story of St. Monica and her more-famous child, Augustine of Hippo. Before the latter became one of the most important “deep thinkers” of the early church, Augustine led a pretty self-indulgent life of wine, women and song, and became a devotee of non-Christian beliefs and philosophies while away at school in the big city of Carthage. Monica, however, was a devoted Christian, and kept at her son, praying for him and pleading with him to put his belief in Jesus. Augustine eventually became not just a believer, but devoted his life and great mind to working for God.
In Augustine’s life, Monica was the game changer. Without her, he was living it up; he even snuck away from her while they were both in Rome. But Monica was tenacious; she caught up with him in Milan, where Augustine eventually was baptized into the Christian church. Her interventions brought him to a place where he came to faith, and the rest is (literally) history.
The term “game changer” gets tossed around with regularity in the mainstream media. It reflects the point in an event that shifts the momentum significantly. The British media labeled now-former Prime Minister Gordon Brown’s “bigoted woman” gaffe the game changer of the recent election.
Father David challenged us to think about the “game changers” in our lives. Whom has God put in our paths to point us to Him? What circumstances have brought us to a deeper faith, possibly through a crisis? Do others see us as their game changers?
It is at the same time humbling and amazing to consider how God works all things to His plan. Please note: I am not saying that God makes all things happen, and tragedies and victories are both slapped with a generic “good” label. Horrible, heart-wrenching things happen in this world with regularity, just as do joyous, miraculous and triumphant things. But God works within human history – sometimes more directly than others – to bring about goodness and to shine His light in the world. And the ultimate goodness is that souls are won to Him to spend eternity in a new heaven and new earth where horrors and tragedies aren’t even memories, and where “coincidence” isn’t found in the dictionary.
Make the most of your opportunities to change the game for someone every day.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Jesus, The Non-Disney Version
This Sunday, Jeff reminded us of the book at the end of the Bible that so many people want to forget: Revelation. This book has caused division within churches and between denominations as people fight over things like if Jesus will come before the millennium or afterward, who the Antichrist is, and whether or not there will be a literal dragon.
Whatever our take on it, Revelation does not present us with an image of Jesus-meek-and-mild. It's an R-rated gore fest filled with rivers of blood and a lot of killing. There's a final battle and everlasting torment. There's even childbirth and prostitution.
Even though we can take comfort in knowing how it ends -- God wins -- Revelation still challenges us and makes us uneasy. It isn't a picture of Jesus that we want to see. It isn't an end we really want to envision. It isn't the kind of all-forgiving, sweet God that we want to believe in. Seen through our modern eyes, it brings on a crisis of Christian belief because it means Jesus has not usurped the place of YHWH in the Hebrew Scriptures and set up a monarchy of absolute pacifism. Jesus comes in power with a sword in his mouth that will be used for slaughter.
This is not the way we imagine God's grace, and it isn't what we understand as every tear being wiped away. So what is it?
As Jeff pointed out, it's a picture of God's justice. Heaven is a perfect place, and so all sin must be eliminated. There's simply no question about it: in a place without death, sorrow, or crying anymore, all that does not fit with God's perfection must be purged. Only in such a place could we dwell with God.
I don't know whether or not the end of times will really be like this. I think the outpouring of God's unmerited grace manifests in the world both as mercy and justice, and that the two cannot be separated.
In this world, it makes sense that the image of God's justice would be one of destructive warfare. After all, we've seen that while love and peace can stand firm against iniquity, and sometimes even overcome it, it can't destroy it. But while this may be a picture of justice we can understand, I don't think it's literally true. In the same way, the image of the Good Shepherd coming to lead us all to green pastures makes sense of God's mercy. But I don't really think it will be like that. These pictures help us grasp what is fundamentally incomprehensible about God, which is that He's both perfectly just and perfectly merciful.
When the end comes, we won't need any of these images anymore. All the images, like all things, will be made new. Until then, Revelation helps us remember that, whatever we think God is like, He isn't that, because He's so much more. Even though He gives Himself to us in the person of Jesus, we cannot enclose or comprehend him in our own flawed humanity.
While building a church on a missionary assignment, Homer Simpson says, "Well, I may not know much about God, but I have to say we built a pretty nice cage for Him." In what ways do we try to limit God to being only what we want Him to be?
Whatever our take on it, Revelation does not present us with an image of Jesus-meek-and-mild. It's an R-rated gore fest filled with rivers of blood and a lot of killing. There's a final battle and everlasting torment. There's even childbirth and prostitution.
Even though we can take comfort in knowing how it ends -- God wins -- Revelation still challenges us and makes us uneasy. It isn't a picture of Jesus that we want to see. It isn't an end we really want to envision. It isn't the kind of all-forgiving, sweet God that we want to believe in. Seen through our modern eyes, it brings on a crisis of Christian belief because it means Jesus has not usurped the place of YHWH in the Hebrew Scriptures and set up a monarchy of absolute pacifism. Jesus comes in power with a sword in his mouth that will be used for slaughter.
This is not the way we imagine God's grace, and it isn't what we understand as every tear being wiped away. So what is it?
As Jeff pointed out, it's a picture of God's justice. Heaven is a perfect place, and so all sin must be eliminated. There's simply no question about it: in a place without death, sorrow, or crying anymore, all that does not fit with God's perfection must be purged. Only in such a place could we dwell with God.
I don't know whether or not the end of times will really be like this. I think the outpouring of God's unmerited grace manifests in the world both as mercy and justice, and that the two cannot be separated.
In this world, it makes sense that the image of God's justice would be one of destructive warfare. After all, we've seen that while love and peace can stand firm against iniquity, and sometimes even overcome it, it can't destroy it. But while this may be a picture of justice we can understand, I don't think it's literally true. In the same way, the image of the Good Shepherd coming to lead us all to green pastures makes sense of God's mercy. But I don't really think it will be like that. These pictures help us grasp what is fundamentally incomprehensible about God, which is that He's both perfectly just and perfectly merciful.
When the end comes, we won't need any of these images anymore. All the images, like all things, will be made new. Until then, Revelation helps us remember that, whatever we think God is like, He isn't that, because He's so much more. Even though He gives Himself to us in the person of Jesus, we cannot enclose or comprehend him in our own flawed humanity.
While building a church on a missionary assignment, Homer Simpson says, "Well, I may not know much about God, but I have to say we built a pretty nice cage for Him." In what ways do we try to limit God to being only what we want Him to be?
Sunday, April 25, 2010
How Long, O Lord?
Today, Stéphane Forget focused on this phrase from the Gospel according to John: "How long will you keep us in suspense" (10:24)? While these words are spoken by Jesus' detractors, they nevertheless reach into the depths of our hearts as we, too, ask 'how long?'
We all experience hardship and suffering in our lives, and we find ourselves asking God: how long will these troubles beset me? How long, O Lord, before you take them from me?
Today's Psalm (23), so often read at funerals, brings us to a place where we ask: how long do we have? How much life do we have left, Lord?
The story of Tabitha in Acts has people wondering how long it will take Paul to get there, whether or not he will be in time to help. We, too, find ourselves waiting. We wait for many things -- for God, for events, to be healed, to die. How long, O Lord, how long until what we are waiting for arrives?
Finally, the reading from Revelation reminds us that what we are waiting for is the end of time: the final coming of the Lamb and the manifestation on earth of God's Kingdom. How long, O Lord, until the last day, the end of times?
We had a few technical problems today as we tried three times to get a song to play. This reminded me that our waiting is full of uncertainty. We think a thing will happen but it doesn't. We've given up, and unexpectedly, it does. We are anxious and impatient, resolved and despairing, uncertain and convicted. We know that everything happens for a reason and that God's timing is not our own. But none of that knowing robs our waiting of the tension we experience in it.
In our waiting -- our asking, 'how long, O Lord?' -- we feel many things, perhaps most of all uncertainty. We are uneasy. In this discomfort, in whatever kind of waiting we find it, we encounter the Lord Who told us he will come like a thief in the night. In our looking forward, whether in hope or dread, we must strive to be ready, because we do not know when or in what way our call will be answered.
Stéphane left us with this question: how long will we listen to God's word and do nothing?
What are we, as a community, looking forward to and preparing ourselves for?
We all experience hardship and suffering in our lives, and we find ourselves asking God: how long will these troubles beset me? How long, O Lord, before you take them from me?
Today's Psalm (23), so often read at funerals, brings us to a place where we ask: how long do we have? How much life do we have left, Lord?
The story of Tabitha in Acts has people wondering how long it will take Paul to get there, whether or not he will be in time to help. We, too, find ourselves waiting. We wait for many things -- for God, for events, to be healed, to die. How long, O Lord, how long until what we are waiting for arrives?
Finally, the reading from Revelation reminds us that what we are waiting for is the end of time: the final coming of the Lamb and the manifestation on earth of God's Kingdom. How long, O Lord, until the last day, the end of times?
We had a few technical problems today as we tried three times to get a song to play. This reminded me that our waiting is full of uncertainty. We think a thing will happen but it doesn't. We've given up, and unexpectedly, it does. We are anxious and impatient, resolved and despairing, uncertain and convicted. We know that everything happens for a reason and that God's timing is not our own. But none of that knowing robs our waiting of the tension we experience in it.
In our waiting -- our asking, 'how long, O Lord?' -- we feel many things, perhaps most of all uncertainty. We are uneasy. In this discomfort, in whatever kind of waiting we find it, we encounter the Lord Who told us he will come like a thief in the night. In our looking forward, whether in hope or dread, we must strive to be ready, because we do not know when or in what way our call will be answered.
Stéphane left us with this question: how long will we listen to God's word and do nothing?
What are we, as a community, looking forward to and preparing ourselves for?
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
30-Hour Famine: Eat Nothing, Do Something
Written by Jeff Alexander
Death and devastation have been mainstays of the news for decades. The statistics from the poorest parts of the world are beyond grasping: more than 24,000 children under the age of 5 years die every day, most from poverty-related causes such as hunger and easily preventable disease. Almost half the world – over 3 billion people – live on less than $2.50 a day. Natural disasters, such as the earthquake in Haiti, and wars add to the misery of those without the basic means to survive. In the face of such overwhelming numbers, it is easy to throw up one’s hands and say, “What can you do?”
Fortunately, this is not a rhetorical question.
On April 16-17, the Two Mountains Community Youth Group took part in the World Vision Canada’s 30-Hour Famine, an annual event to raise funds to combat child poverty. Between 30 and 35 high school-aged teens accumulated pledges and went without food for 30 hours. During this time, we held a police-escorted candlelight march around Deux-Montagnes, did yardwork in the neighbourhood around All Saints Church for additional donations, did themed (“Peace in Understanding”) crafts and generally had a lot of fun as a group.
The TMCYG raised over $1300 towards World Vision projects around the world. A World Vision Canada representative, who came to thank the group and explain how the funds would be used, indicated that, of new groups participating in the 30-Hour Famine, ours had the largest number of participants and raised the highest amount in donations.
As an adult leader for the event, it was my privilege to see these young people give their time and effort towards such an important cause. Despite depriving themselves of food over this time, the mood among the teens was always upbeat. The event was only made possible through the Herculean efforts of Christine Sandilands, TMCYG coordinator. As well, the generosity of the community, in donations of both money and supplies for the Saturday-evening buffet, was extremely encouraging.
We look forward to even more success in 2011!
Statistics from UNICEF (www.unicef.org) and The World Bank (http://www.worldbank.org)
Death and devastation have been mainstays of the news for decades. The statistics from the poorest parts of the world are beyond grasping: more than 24,000 children under the age of 5 years die every day, most from poverty-related causes such as hunger and easily preventable disease. Almost half the world – over 3 billion people – live on less than $2.50 a day. Natural disasters, such as the earthquake in Haiti, and wars add to the misery of those without the basic means to survive. In the face of such overwhelming numbers, it is easy to throw up one’s hands and say, “What can you do?”
Fortunately, this is not a rhetorical question.
On April 16-17, the Two Mountains Community Youth Group took part in the World Vision Canada’s 30-Hour Famine, an annual event to raise funds to combat child poverty. Between 30 and 35 high school-aged teens accumulated pledges and went without food for 30 hours. During this time, we held a police-escorted candlelight march around Deux-Montagnes, did yardwork in the neighbourhood around All Saints Church for additional donations, did themed (“Peace in Understanding”) crafts and generally had a lot of fun as a group.
The TMCYG raised over $1300 towards World Vision projects around the world. A World Vision Canada representative, who came to thank the group and explain how the funds would be used, indicated that, of new groups participating in the 30-Hour Famine, ours had the largest number of participants and raised the highest amount in donations.
As an adult leader for the event, it was my privilege to see these young people give their time and effort towards such an important cause. Despite depriving themselves of food over this time, the mood among the teens was always upbeat. The event was only made possible through the Herculean efforts of Christine Sandilands, TMCYG coordinator. As well, the generosity of the community, in donations of both money and supplies for the Saturday-evening buffet, was extremely encouraging.
We look forward to even more success in 2011!
Statistics from UNICEF (www.unicef.org) and The World Bank (http://www.worldbank.org)
Completing the Symbol
This Sunday's sermon focused on the conversion of Paul, which we observed both through preaching and through a skit put on by the children. To get into the service, we had to present a copy of the secret symbol -- the outline of a fish.
The early Church was hidden, secret and afraid. Despite the well-known and spectacular martyrdoms of Paul and other early saints, most early Christians practiced and preached their faith in secrecy, evading execution and passing what they had learned on to new catechumens.
"I hate the hiding and the secrecy! All I want to do is tell everyone about Jesus, and that's exactly what I can't do!"
Jeff asked us to consider what these early Christians would have felt when they saw Saul being led into their secret hideout. It must have felt something like waking up in a nightmare.
"Great! Why don't we send an invitation out to King Herod, too? We can all have tea and cookies!"
While most of us can't imagine their sense of sheer panic, Jeff reminded us that there are Christians all over the world who still hide the practice of their faith because the danger of death is a real one.
"I was on my way here with orders to find and kill you all..."
In this secular age, we face persecution too, albeit not the kind that will cost us our lives. We can be ridiculed for believing in God, we can lose friends, or our jobs. It isn't always easy. But, in a way, I think this can also be a blessing. When the Church and religion permeated Western culture, it was easy for people to forget that we've received secret knowledge. Our faith is an initiation into a mysterious wisdom that gives us the strength to live in Jesus' name.
"I'm still glowing with excitement over my encounter with the risen Christ."
Finding ourselves surrounded by a hostile culture can help us remember that there is nothing obvious about what we believe, nothing that resides in common sense. In turn, this realization can lead us to cherish our beliefs and give us the courage to draw the outline of a fish in the sand. Because Jesus went to the Cross on purpose so that we might believe and have life, we find ourselves in a world where we can live the Christian life by proclaiming the Gospel in the face of adversity. We complete the symbol by living as Jesus did.
"Scales fell off my eyes and I could see again, praise God. I now know that it's all true; Jesus is the Messiah and He is risen!!"
(all quotations are from the skit)
The early Church was hidden, secret and afraid. Despite the well-known and spectacular martyrdoms of Paul and other early saints, most early Christians practiced and preached their faith in secrecy, evading execution and passing what they had learned on to new catechumens.
"I hate the hiding and the secrecy! All I want to do is tell everyone about Jesus, and that's exactly what I can't do!"
Jeff asked us to consider what these early Christians would have felt when they saw Saul being led into their secret hideout. It must have felt something like waking up in a nightmare.
"Great! Why don't we send an invitation out to King Herod, too? We can all have tea and cookies!"
While most of us can't imagine their sense of sheer panic, Jeff reminded us that there are Christians all over the world who still hide the practice of their faith because the danger of death is a real one.
"I was on my way here with orders to find and kill you all..."
In this secular age, we face persecution too, albeit not the kind that will cost us our lives. We can be ridiculed for believing in God, we can lose friends, or our jobs. It isn't always easy. But, in a way, I think this can also be a blessing. When the Church and religion permeated Western culture, it was easy for people to forget that we've received secret knowledge. Our faith is an initiation into a mysterious wisdom that gives us the strength to live in Jesus' name.
"I'm still glowing with excitement over my encounter with the risen Christ."
Finding ourselves surrounded by a hostile culture can help us remember that there is nothing obvious about what we believe, nothing that resides in common sense. In turn, this realization can lead us to cherish our beliefs and give us the courage to draw the outline of a fish in the sand. Because Jesus went to the Cross on purpose so that we might believe and have life, we find ourselves in a world where we can live the Christian life by proclaiming the Gospel in the face of adversity. We complete the symbol by living as Jesus did.
"Scales fell off my eyes and I could see again, praise God. I now know that it's all true; Jesus is the Messiah and He is risen!!"
(all quotations are from the skit)
Monday, April 12, 2010
The Quality of Mercy is Not Strained
Written by Jeff Alexander
After the “big” holy days, how do we deal with the inevitable letdown of emotions? How do we hold onto the impact of these celebrations throughout the year and truly become changed beings? These were the challenges presented to us by Katherine Speeckaert this past Sunday. Easter is the high point of the Christian calendar, and the services – starting with Palm Sunday, and through Holy Week to Good Friday and Saturday vigil and ending with Easter Sunday – burst with meaning and emotion. The passion story reads like the quickening of a heartbeat as Jesus “set His face to go to Jerusalem” (Luke 9:51), where He knew He would suffer and die. Horribly. Shamefully. Alone.
I find it essential to really experience the deep sadness of this day, as an inheritor of and accomplice in the sin of humanity. My sin and your sin made it necessary that Jesus Christ died on the cross, an act of mercy like no other in the history of creation.
The depth of this sadness makes the joy on Sunday morning all the sweeter. But what about the overwhelming mercy in the act of self-sacrifice? Is this lost in the emotional gear-shifting, and then left behind after the last Easter chocolates have been devoured?
I think I speak for the majority of the congregation in admitting never having celebrated or even heard of the Feast of Divine Mercy, the designation of the second Sunday after Easter which Kat underlined. A knee-jerk reaction would be to dismiss the story of St. Faustina and her vision of an image of Jesus with beams of light emanating from Him (see picture) as a Catholic observance that seeks to focus on the bad while ignoring the good. But the two emotions – the sadness of Good Friday and the joy of Easter Sunday – are intertwined, and are both crucial to remember as we live under God’s mercy throughout the year. By extension, as Kat said, we first received His mercy and are therefore called to be merciful to others. How can we make mercy a cornerstone of our lives if we do not appreciate its full value?
The above title is the first line of one of Shakespeare’s most beautiful and well known bits of dialogue, from The Merchant of Venice. It ends with the following: “And earthly power doth then show like God's / When mercy seasons justice.” I pray that God will help me to soften my justice, when I feel self-righteous, morally indignant and victimized, with the same mercy that He showed in giving up His only Son to die on a cross.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
How Great Thou Art!
The Lord is risen! Alleluia!
As Father David said, the Resurrection cannot be explained. It speaks for itself, and nothing beyond itself can be said about it that would capture or expound on it. There's no box that it can be put in.
What can be said about the Resurrection that belongs to us to say is the effect it has on our lives, the way that it lives in us and transforms the world. These are the stories that belong to all of us and that we all have to share.
There's nothing about me that gives me more to say than anyone else. So, instead, I'll repeat the words of that great hymn that punctuated our worship from Good Friday to Easter Sunday: How Great Thou Art.
Oh Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder
consider all the works Thy hands have made,
I see the stars, I hear the mighty thunder,
Thy pow'r throughout the universe displayed;
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art! How great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee,
How great Thou art! How great Thou art!
When through the woods and forest glades I wander
I hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees;
When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur
and hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze;
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art! How great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee,
How great Thou art! How great Thou art!
When Christ shall come, with shouts of acclamation,
and take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!
Then I shall bow in humble adoration
and there proclaim, "my God, how great Thou art!"
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art! How great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee,
How great Thou art! How great Thou art!
As Father David said, the Resurrection cannot be explained. It speaks for itself, and nothing beyond itself can be said about it that would capture or expound on it. There's no box that it can be put in.
What can be said about the Resurrection that belongs to us to say is the effect it has on our lives, the way that it lives in us and transforms the world. These are the stories that belong to all of us and that we all have to share.
There's nothing about me that gives me more to say than anyone else. So, instead, I'll repeat the words of that great hymn that punctuated our worship from Good Friday to Easter Sunday: How Great Thou Art.
Oh Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder
consider all the works Thy hands have made,
I see the stars, I hear the mighty thunder,
Thy pow'r throughout the universe displayed;
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art! How great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee,
How great Thou art! How great Thou art!
When through the woods and forest glades I wander
I hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees;
When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur
and hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze;
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art! How great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee,
How great Thou art! How great Thou art!
When Christ shall come, with shouts of acclamation,
and take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!
Then I shall bow in humble adoration
and there proclaim, "my God, how great Thou art!"
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art! How great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God to Thee,
How great Thou art! How great Thou art!
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