Revival

I don’t know what you associate with the word revival, but what’s happening at Asbury Seminary in Kentucky has to be awful close. If you grew up in the era of big tent meetings where traveling preachers and circuit riders showed up one day, preached late into the night, and didn’t leave until the whole town walked the center isle, then this may look a little different from the outside. But what’s underneath seems to be exactly the same.

At first I was a touch skeptical. I didn’t grow up in Pentecostal circles, so we didn’t talk about revival often. And when I saw these Kentucky photos through the social media lense I was used to distrusting what I see through those filters. But the more I’ve read, the more I am moved.

This is a story of a chapel service that started one day, ordinary in every way, then didn’t stop… For a week and counting now. The preacher that morning even confessed that his message wasn’t his best, and he rushed to wrap it up. All of us pastors know what that feels like. But then God stepped in… When the pastor prayed, the kids lingered, and prayed themselves, and confessed to one another where they have fallen short. That turned into more worship and more prayer. This movement hasn’t stopped since. 24 hours a day! Listen, I’ve been to countless Bible College Chapel services in my life, and not one of them lasted more than 2 hours, let alone 24 hours a day for a week or more! This is a miracle in its own right!

Here’s the other amazing thing. There are no lights. No fog machines. No celebrities. No hype. Big name worship leaders have offered to come and lead, but they have been kindly invited to sit in the audience. There isn’t an ounce of production. They don’t even have words on a screen! This whole movement is wholly led by, for, and with Gen Z college students! How incredible is that!

I experienced Revival once. No, it wasn’t at a tent, or a part of a massive nation-wide movement. It was in a cottage near the lake in Manitoba. I was sitting with a cabin full of teenagers who were too cool for Bible camp. At first we weren’t sure anything was going to get through the walls they had put up. But then, at the end of the week, we had a fireside with the entire camp. When it was nearing the end, one of my kids got up and began confessing his deepest darkest secrets to the whole group, and asking God for forgiveness. (Revival always starts with confession) I’ve never seen anything like it. Whatever that was lit some sort of fire in the rest of the guys. These tough, popular kids began to tear up, then they broke out into ugly crying together. We stayed up that night until 3 in the morning singing together, praying, holding hands, and talking about how amazing God is. Have you ever heard a bunch of hockey players sing? It’s not pretty… While holding hands?? It was amazing. I was in absolutely awe at the power of God that had descended upon that one room cottage in the Whiteshell. So, yes, I have experienced revival. Limited only by time and space. And I’ve never forgotten it. So, if that is what is happening in Kentucky, then let it run! I can’t think of anything we need now more than that…

My Two Words for 2023

At the start of a new year, I often choose a few words to give the months ahead some direction. In some ways, it’s almost a super condensed New Years resolution, but in other ways, it’s entirely different. It’s not so much about what I want to do, as who I want to be this year. It has to be short, sweet, and meaningful; otherwise, I’ll either forget it or ignore it. This year I felt led to two words: Happy Dad.

It might not sound overly spiritual or terribly profound, but those two words really do sum up the type of change I want to see in my life this year. See, I don’t quite know when or where exactly it happened, but somewhere along the way I’ve become a bit high-strung. I hate to say it, but my soul often feels wound tight. Truthfully it could be any number of things. Our world isn’t exactly a peaceful place to live right now…

I say I don’t know when it happened, but I’ve got a pretty good hunch—I think it started when our children outnumbered us. When there were two, we could divide and conquer, but when there were three we were outgunned and they knew it. Being the ringleader of that kind of circus has an effect on you.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids more than anything here on this earth. They are brilliant, creative, and a ton of fun! But something changed in me as I tried to ride the tidal wave of a busy family and a vibrant church—I became short. Not in stature but in temperament. Frustration often bubbled just under the surface, and the littlest things would bring it out. Maybe you know the feeling.

So I resolved this year to be “Happy Dad.” Not “pushover dad” or “absentee dad,” but “Happy Dad.” I wanted the face my kids see, more than any other, to be full of joy, love, and gratitude for each and every one of our interactions, instead of the one that was curled in frustration for the way they did their chores.

As for what inspired these two words? I think it’s the image I have of Jesus in my head. We all have one. When I picture Jesus, I see a face full of inexplicable wisdom, authority, and truth. I see someone I can trust with everything I have. But when I look into His eyes, that’s not all I see. I also see joy. The kind of joy you can’t hide. An almost irrepressible, uncontainable joy.  

Sometimes we think of those two things as mutually exclusive, but I assure you they are not. In fact, I truly believe that one of the things that would surprise you and I the most if we were ever to meet Jesus in the flesh would be how lighthearted and carefree He was—how He joked and laughed with the disciples. I think we would marvel at how comfortable He was in His own skin, and how life with Him was so much more joyful than we would ever have imagined. 

I picture Jesus with bright eyes. 

Those were the eyes the disciples saw when they lay down each night to fall asleep. 

See, joy is a fruit of the Spirit. That means Jesus was operating in that gift on daily basis, even with the weight of the world on His shoulders. 

Since that image is so moving and powerful for me, I want that for my kids too. I want them to see the joy of my Heavenly Father in the eyes of their earthly one. It won’t always be easy… If the world is designed for anything these days, it’s to attempt to steal your joy. But it’s worth it. So “Happy Dad” it is. The two words I will say under my breath when I can feel the frustration simmering below the surface. 

How about you? What are your few words for 2023?

Thin Places

Dropping my kids off at camp this week triggered a tidal wave of emotions that caught me by surprise. No, I don’t typically suffer from separation anxiety. I love all three of them to pieces, and would walk to the end of the Earth for them, but all parents know that a little absence really does make the heart grow fonder. And, between you and me, it will do them good to have someone else tell them what to do for a few days, and teach them the same truths I have been teaching them repeatedly, but in a voice they won’t be tempted to gloss over.

This weekend, as I wandered through the unfamiliar trees and sun soaked shoreline I was flooded with memories of the life changing experiences I had in my childhood years and beyond at places just like this.

Every time I have set foot back at Red Rock Bible Camp, it happens. The smell of the cabins, the view of the lake in the early morning with the mist slowly rising along the unbroken surface, the rock faces that I am sure still contain some of my DNA—they all remind me of what God did in my heart there decades ago, and the ways in which he molded and shaped me in those tender formative years. They say that of all the senses, smell is associated with memory more than any other and I can attest to this truth. When I walk the halls and wander the trails, and breathe in the fresh forrest air, it’s as close to a vivd flashback as I’ve ever experienced. What I wasn’t prepared for this weekend, was having those same emotions in a place I’d never been.

I don’t know if you have a place, or places like this in your story—places where God met you and altered the trajectory of your life, but summer camp had an impact on me like none other. I made some of the deepest and longest lasting friendships of my life sitting around those campfires, and sensed God’s calling into full time ministry as I stared up into the stars. It is no exaggeration to say that I am who I am today in part because of those acres along the water in Whiteshell Provincial Park, and the people who pointed me to Jesus in those rustic cabins and noisy dining halls.

The Celts have a phrase for places like this. They call them thin places. Thin places are regions, or moments in time where the veil between the physical world and the spiritual world is thinner than normal. These are places where you can experience God, and hear his voice more clearly than in the rigour and madness of everyday life and they have a profound impact on your story.

Mt. Horeb, where God spoke to Moses from a burning bush was a thin place. The Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus poured his heart out was a thin place. The lonely places along the Sea of Galilee were thin places for our Lord in the early hours of the morning, and were for me as well when I walked in his footsteps years ago. And the plot of granite rock where Red Rock Bible Camp sits was one of the thinnest places I’ve ever experienced. It was a place where the veil between the spiritual world and the physical world was paper thin, and God felt closer than He’s ever been.

Another way to think of these places, is to call them by a more Biblical name: Good Soil. Deep, rich, black Earth. In the parable of the sower Jesus talks about different kinds of ground and how they represent different kinds of hearts. From hard and beaten paths packed by storms and heavy traffic, to shallow or weedy ground. But in my experience there are places that exhibit the same characteristics as the good soil in Jesus’ parable that produced a bumper crop. Places where people are gathered who collectively love and serve God with all they have, and offer you space to set down roots alongside them.

As a parent I have been thinking for years about how to pass my faith on to my kids. I have wondered what I can do to lead them to Jesus, the way that others led me. The answers on the tip of your tongue are likely already correct:

1) Take them to a good church. It’s absolutely essential.

2) Let them see your faith in action, not just hear your words. Some things of faith are caught more than they are taught, and you will find this out as time stretches forward. They will listen more to what you do than what you say.

3) Teach them to pray as soon as they can talk as Susanna Wesley taught her sons.

These are all gold and worth every moment you invest in them. But I believe there is at least one more to add to this list: let them spend time in good soil. Send them to thin places for the weekend or weeks in the summer heat. The Psalmist calls us to “taste and see that the Lord is good.” In my experience, this happens in places with good soil more than any other.

We live in a noisy world that has more than lost its way. We live in a place where most of the pictures we see and words we hear are pointing us away from the God who is all around us. In order for our kids to have the strength to stand in the river and walk upstream for the remainder of their lives, they need to spend time in places like this. Places were God can get their attention, and teach them was it means to hear his voice.

Granted these places, and institutions are getting harder to find. There are a number of reasons for the attrition, and a topic for a post at another time, but they do exist. They are out there. There are camps, and youth groups, and weekend retreats where the earth is still black, and the ground heavy with the materials for growth. There are churches that haven’t let the fire go cold. They will take some time to get there, and will costs you a fraction of your energy and resources, but if I can implore you to do anything, it’s this: do whatever it takes to get them there. One encounter with the living God can change the course of your life. One weekend can have eternal ramifications. I feel so passionately about this because it is exactly what happened for me. It was in these thin places I met Jesus. All it takes to start a fire is a single spark. And of that truth, I am living proof.

Reputation Repair

Reputation is a funny thing. As you well know, what other people say about you is rarely within your control. If you’ve ever lived through the harrowing years of junior high, you know a little about labels and how easily they stick. Sometimes no matter what you do, your name becomes a magnet for all sorts of false ideas and misguided stereotypes. Take Jesus for example. The Son of God Himself was called a glutton and a drunk.

However, sometimes (if we’re willing to be brutally honest) there is a sliver of truth hidden in a log of misperception.

It’s no secret the reputation of Christians is under siege. Every year, more and more people carry deeper and wider negative associations with the followers of Jesus and the churches that we lead. In fact, in Canada we have reached a tipping point: as many people believe the churches have a detrimental effect on society as those who believe it to be positive—even considering the fact that nearly every university and hospital in North America first had its roots in the mission of the church. I find this more than a little shocking since the followers of Jesus I know are truly the most amazing people I’ve ever met. 

Somehow being a Christian today is more often associated with close-minded convictions and judgemental attitudes rather than loving your neighbour and caring for the poor. 

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we have a bit of a P.R. problem. If you watch the evening news, public opinion of followers of Jesus is languishing near a long-time low. Much of it is undeserved, but what if there was something we could learn from this? Better yet, what if there was something we could do about it?

Yes, sometimes the teachings of Jesus will be at odds with the culture around us—he himself warned us this would be the case. And yes there has been no shortage of his followers who failed to live up to the life he’s called us to (myself included). But I have also begun to wonder if it has been less about what we believe and more about how (or how often) we’ve said it. 

As Christians, it seems we are often loudest about the issues Jesus talks about the least. Our theology may not be wrong, but what if our emphasis is?

Jesus spoke often about sexuality and the value of a human life. On this there is little doubt. But he also spoke about the kingdom of God, faith and salvation, and the role of money in our lives and what it says about us. In fact, Jesus spoke far more about that second list of topics than he ever did about the first. I’m not saying those truths don’t matter, but what if we are allowing a distorted picture of Christianity to seep out into the wider world by allowing one or two issues to define us and paint a picture of the Savior we serve? What if truth out of balance is far more dangerous than we ever thought?

Jesus had this amazing ability to ‘comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.’ He was loved by the lost and ironically those who had the most to hide flocked to him in droves—even the prostitutes and tax collectors. This Jesus didn’t compromise for a second on the truth of what it means to follow him, yet people were drawn to him every step of the way. Why can’t we mirror the same to the culture around us? 

Let’s continue to speak the truth. Let’s speak the truth in love. But let’s also refuse to allow one issue to define us. Jesus and the Gospel are too unimaginably beautiful and incomprehensibly large to fit into a solitary soundbite.

The Balance of Freedom & Control

By my count, there are only two things all parents can agree on. On every other conceivable issue, there are as many opinions as they are practitioners and parents who can’t wait to share them, but on these two we all agree.

One, it goes too fast. Far too fast. Time seems to speed up as they age, and the distance between their first steps and the first day of school is roughly the same as the time lapse between their kindergarten orientation and their high school graduation. There is no real explanation for the disparity. The passage of time is a mystery even Einstein couldn’t solve, and parenting is Exhibit A. 

Two, parenting is hard. I mean really hard. Especially in today’s current cultural climate. Even those of us who have educated ourselves with every possible book and parenting theory, and interviewed all of our friends in advance to somehow stay ahead of the curve are no better off. The truth is, no one is truly qualified to parent when they leave the hospital with a newborn in hand, and we all come to grips with that sinking realization as soon as we summon the fourth-floor elevator to leave the maternity ward.  

Few phrases seem to capture the experience of raising an autonomous free-willed human being like this one:

When kids are young they’re a handful. When they are old, they’re a heartful. 

I’ve read it a dozen times, and as I read it again it still rings true. When they are young you can barely keep up with the daily requirements. Every night at bedtime seems like a hostage negotiation in reverse where you are willing to agree to any list of demands if they’ll just stay in their room and fall asleep. Sleep becomes the rarest and most valuable resource in your ecosystem, and life seems to be reduced to an endless search for this peaceful state that you realize now you took for granted your whole life up until this point. 

But when they are old, the weight is no less, it simply shifts. Whereas once you worried about them falling down the stairs or scraping a knee, now you worry about where they are at when midnight tolls on the living room clock and who is going to be driving them home. I knew a parent who used to lament the fact that even though the early days are more demanding than humanly possible, at least you could fix just about any problem with a warm blanket and a nighttime hug. When was the last time that worked for your sixteen-year-old?

The question I’ve been asking weekly for the last fourteen years (the entire length of my parenting career) is; how do I do this right? How do I raise my kids to be the people God has called them to be, and grow a deep lasting relationship with Him? How do I instill in them the courage they will need to be a Daniel is a world that is increasingly looking like the ancient city of Babylon? Those answers have come in fits and starts, and I’ve made as many mistakes as I have found successes. Though I may not have it all figured out, I have learned a few things along the way. One of the word pictures that has helped me most is of a simple schoolyard staple: the teetertotter (or as some of you call it, the seesaw). Believe it or not, it’s a picture of the ever-evolving nature of parenting. 

On the one side is the word Control. It stands for all the rules we set when they are too young to know better like “don’t touch the stove when it’s hot,” or “don’t stick your tongue on a frozen flag pole.” Granted those are mistakes we generally only make once, our hope as parents is to have them learn from other people’s mistakes instead of paying the price themselves. This is where we make their decisions for them.

On the other side of this teetertotter is the word freedom. This is their own personal agency and free will. This is where they are entrusted with the time and space to make their own decisions even when there is much that hangs in the balance, and that includes their freedom to make mistakes. This is the scary part of the teetertotter for us as parents. It is the place we worry about all the ‘what ifs’ that might happen if they choose wrongly or start down a dangerous path. 

When they are young, the teetertotter tilts up to the left. It is not only reasonable, it is essential. My kids wouldn’t have made it past their second birthday if I allowed them to chase their own erratic instincts into rush hour traffic or to the bottom of a mysterious lake. The early years, the handful years, are the high control and low freedom years of their lives. They may complain bitterly about your Grinch-like grip on their adventurous desires, but you lay your head on the pillow at night knowing well you’ve done your job.

What is less clear for most parents is what the older years, the heartful years, should look like. What does it mean to parent well as they grow older?

As I understand it, the best form of parenting that is most faithful to God’s design for us is one that begins the early years high in control and low in freedom looking like the image tilted high and to the left. However, it ends in adulthood with the teetertotter flipped on its head. Here we graduate them into the real world with a parenting style that is low on control and high on freedom. In imagery terms, high and to the right.  

The transition between these two images should be a slow progression leaving room to make mistakes but with a safety net only a few feet below the highwire. We begin the story in our first image, find ourselves level halfway through, and end with full control in the hands of our almost adults. 

Now, seeing that in print may terrify some of you. I know it does me. If I were to obey my instings I would be high on control all the way! I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say I’m a bit of a control freak, and it terrifies me to let go. But when we let those instincts rule our decisions for the total of our parenting careers, we contribute to a serious problem many of us have seen—a failure to launch. Actually, there is a problem waiting on each side. 

If we are too permissible in the early years and just let them raise themselves, they will make many decisions they were not prepared to make, which may well carry lifelong consequences. They say the human brain doesn’t fully develop until the age of twenty-six—I think we all can agree on that experientially—and many of our kids are making major decisions long before then. However, if we’re too controlling when they finally graduate from our household, we haven’t prepared them for the life they are diving into. We haven’t given them a chance to experience the intoxicating power of free will, and the safety net to make mistakes while they are still home. This is where many kids can either careen off into a lifestyle that we know will do them harm, or remain stuck in a failure-to-launch scenario never able to stand on their own two feet. 

Parenting then is a balance, much like a teetertotter, that evolves and changes as they grow. You may naturally lean towards one marker of parenting and choose to operate out of it alone for their whole childhood, but both extremes carry serious potential for harm. 

I’ve often marvelled at God’s willingness to allow us the ability to make our own choices. The idea of free will literally destroyed the world He created for us, and ultimately cost Him His only son. Giving us a chance to choose the right choice or the wrong one always carries a high price. 

See, the cost of free will is the possibility of pain. 

There is no way around it. 

But the Biblical story reminds us that life and love are impossible without it. 

And so it is with parenting. 

So let me encourage you, both those in the early years and those in the later stages. This encouragement stands even for you who have already launched your kids into the wild world of adulthood since kids never reach an age where they don’t in some way still need their parents. Balance well the twin poles of control and freedom. Teach them how to chase after God on their own and make good decisions, but protect them until they’re able to learn those skills. You won’t get it always right, and there will be moments of panic and indecision, but if you follow this path you will lead them well. And hey, I know it might be hard sometimes, but try and enjoy the ride! Parenting may not be easy, but there is nothing else in this world like it.

The Three Hardest Words…

If the two most difficult words to utter in the English language are “I’m sorry,” I think the three hardest words to spit out are “I was wrong.”

It’s almost like we’re allergic to admitting we’ve changed our minds or made the wrong choice. On anything.

I don’t think it’s ever been easy to own the evolution of our understanding, but lately we’ve taken this character flaw to a whole new level. We have become an instant reaction society. A culture of hot takes. There is no room on these roads to back up. Only forward and faster.

I’m not sure what makes those three words so bitter on the tongue.

Perhaps we’re afraid that if we are vulnerable enough to walk back our opinions, everyone else around us will jump up and say “ah ha! I knew it!” As if they were waiting for us to crumble.

Maybe we’re scared of losing the tribe we’ve joined where your membership is contingent on your undying allegiance, and you don’t want to give us those relationships.

Or maybe it’s simply that admitting you're wrong hurts. It’s physically painful. I know I feel it. When someone questions something I write, I instantly start defending my idea before I even listen to the critique they’ve put forward. It’s almost automatic.

Proverbs 28:13 says:

13 A man who refuses to admit his mistakes can never be successful. But if he confesses and forsakes them, he gets another chance.

I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather be successful than stubborn. And I could really use a few more chances at getting things right.

Adam Grant tells this remarkable story of an astrophysicist who had made a wild discovery. In fact, it was the biggest find of his life. It was so impactful he was invited to an international conference to present his findings. The only catch was, while he was in the air on the way to give the keynote address, he realized he was wrong. Not just a little wrong, but his whole premise was built on faulty math.

His paper was a lie.

When he arrived, he climbed the stairs leading onstage, sweaty and nervous, and admitted to the whole auditorium his fundamental mistake and where he went wrong along the way. He owned up to the fact that the single most important discovery he had ever made was in fact, a fake. The entire room erupted in applause. They gave him a standing ovation.

We need to normalize those three words. I was wrong. Our marriages and our friendships will instantly begin to change. Go ahead and try it. You just might find, like the brutally honest man on stage, that everyone else will respect you even more for it.

Because we’re all in process. We’re just not all willing to admit it.

How Much is a Friend Worth?

We live in an age of isolation and loneliness. Friendships have been struggling for years. Maybe you’ve noticed.

The epidemic that began two years ago was only the last domino to fall in a cascade of generation long trends.

If the stats are right, the average American has only one good friend. Just one… and almost a third of us would say there couldn’t count that far.

When I think back on my four decades on this planet, the very best seasons of my life were filled with deep meaningful friendships. Without exception. In fact, at each stage of the journey, I realize now, it was the people that made the place—not the other way around.

Lately I’ve been wondering, how much is a good friend worth?

Have you ever thought about that before?

Can you put a price on something like that?

I know you’re probably sitting there thinking this is a rhetorical question, but God showed me something recently that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

When we first moved to Ontario, Mel went back to school. She took a couple years at a local college to get certified in a brand new field. It was exciting, but it wasn’t cheap. I remember the bill was just over $10,000.

That may not seem like that much to some, but when you’re newly married and just starting out its a fortune. And for a guy whose wallet tends to creak when it opens, it was an extra large investment.

When all was said and done, she made a few good friends—one in particular—and was ready to jump into her new calling. Only, the leap was rather short lived. We moved within a year, started having kids right after that, and she never went back to using that diploma. Fifteen years have gone by in a blink.

Now, I look back on that couple years and sometimes wonder if it was a waste of money. I know you can’t look back on life with regrets, but my imagination never plays by the rules. I have wondered more than once if it was worth the investment.

But God has shown me lately, it was a steal of a deal. See, the one friendship my wife made in those classrooms has lasted a decade and a half and has become one of her closest friends. In fact, she has been a lifeline is a season of uncertainty. So I can tell you, with every conviction, that I may not know exactly how much a good friend is worth, but I know it is well north of ten grand.

And the truth is, we would do it again in a heartbeat.

"Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble. ... Three are even better, for a triple-braided cord is not easily broken." —Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

Heat & Light

Have you ever noticed that so many conversations generate more heat than light? When it’s over, all it produced was lot of emotion but very little change?

See, it’s not just that we see things differently, though that will always be the case. Believe it or not, at times different perspectives can actually be a good thing if they’re expressed right. But lately I have become convinced it has less to do with what we’ve been saying and more to do with how we’ve been saying it.

No matter where you fall on the issues of our day, if you want the other person to actually hear you, here are three things to remember:

1) “Speak the truth in love.” (Ephesians 4:15)

If you are all truth and no love, no one will listen. If you are all love and no truth, it won’t matter what you say anyways. Paul reminds us that if we have not love, all we are is a clanging cymbal, and to be honest with you it seems pretty noisy these days on social media and around the dinner table.

2) Make it your goal to win the person not win the argument.

There is a funny thing that happens when we get defensive. Apparently the logic centre of our brains shuts off, and the emotional centre lights up like a Christmas tree. If that doesn’t explain most arguments I’ve ever been in, I don’t know what does. Remember, that your goal is to win the person, not the debate.

3) Pray first, speak later.

It seems to me that if we aren’t ready to pray for someone, we aren’t ready to engage with them on a tough issue. I know how easy it is to load your gun figuratively speaking, and walk into an argument when you’re frustrated. But the chances of that interaction producing any real change are next to nothing. Jesus called us to “love our enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” Think about that for a second.

What if it was our love not our logic that actually changes hearts?

The Silence of Saturday

The silence of Saturday is deafening. It is surrounded by the two most important days in the history of humankind. Sandwiched between the earthquakes and cries of Good Friday, and the stolen breath and amazement of Resurrection Sunday comes the silent Sabbath of Holy Saturday.

The eye of the storm.

We don’t talk enough about this day.

Perhaps it is because silence makes us uncomfortable. We don’t know what to do with it. In the endless series of distractions that we call a normal Saturday, any more than five minutes alone with our thoughts can feel like too much. But there is a special kind of silence that hangs over this day—it’s the silence of God. If you’ve ever experienced it you know this can be the hardest of all.

Why won’t God say something? Why won’t He do something!? Where has He gone?

I have thought those thoughts. I have mouthed those prayers. I would imagine they were the only words the disciples could have formed as they tried to process what they just experienced. With blown adrenals and shattered hearts, the silence of God was the greatest mystery of all.

I know it could not have been easy for them, but I am grateful for this day.

I am grateful because it reminds me that the silence of God is not the absence of God.

Sometimes, in the moments where it seems like God is missing, He is moving mountains beneath the Earth. Sometimes in his silence, God is doing His greatest work.

He did promise us these days would come. He promised us it would be like Jonah’s three days in the belly of a whale.

So if you are experiencing the silence of the day in-between right now in your life, remember that there is hope in the darkness. God hasn’t gone anywhere.

Remember, this silent Saturday.

Remember, the silence of God is not the absence of God.

Hold on until the morning. You have no idea what God has in store…

Clay Vessels

There have been a wave of mega church pastor failures in the past few years. In some ways it has become a pandemic in its own right. A pastor I had spent several years listening to when we first arrived in Ontario just joined their ranks, and he is last on a growing list.

It's hard to name just one emotion that it triggers in my heart when I read headline after headline. Usually I'm fit to be tied for a few days afterwards. As a pastor it triggers a powerful mixture of anger, frustration, sadness, and disappointment all at once. There is also this lingering sense of betrayal that ebbs and flows.

Much digital ink has been spilled discussing why this is taking place. Do we need to detox from this celebrity culture we've created in the church? Absolutely. Do we need more genuine accountability for those who lead churches or travel to teach? Without a doubt. Do we all need to surround ourselves with good friends who will tell us what we need to hear instead of what we want to hear no matter how much is at stake? More than we know.

But there is something else this should all remind us of: that we put our faith in Jesus not the men or women who speak on His behalf.

Idolatry is a dangerous thing, both for the one on the pedestal and the one underneath.

This quote from C.S. Lewis reminds me so much of this truth. I think, without realizing it, many of us have been building on the shore for quite some time. I feel like Jesus had something to say about that...

In my devotions this morning with Mel, this was the passage that we read:

7 Yet we who have this spiritual treasure are like common clay pots, in order to show that the supreme power belongs to God, not to us. (2 Corinthians 4:7)

Paul reminds us, that you and I are clay pots. It doesn't matter how well painted or glazed, even the fanciest pot will shatter with a bit of force. If you have been wounded by a story like this, remember, your faith is in Jesus—not the earthen vessel you met Him in. Just because the pot broke, doesn't mean there wasn't treasure inside.

Ice Age

It's been a hard few years. I know, nothing you don't already know. But I've begun to wonder if the years aren't the only thing that has hardened on us since this whole ordeal began. Without realizing it, some of our hearts have begun to match the stories we've been living.

We armour up so we don't we don't feel let down.

Relationships are risky (especially lately), and some of us feel like we've had all the risk we can handle.

But, as C.S. Lewis reminds us, icing up carries risks of its own. In fact, in the end they will cost us far more that reaching out.

Don't let the blizzard turn into an ice age.

Don't trade a soft heart for a heart of stone.

Attack of the Mona Lisa

There was an international incident today at the Louvre Museum in France. Perhaps the most famous painting in history was attacked and defaced. A young man disguised as an old woman in a wheelchair complete with a wig and lipstick, threw a piece of cake at the Mona Lisa with near perfect aim. The masterpiece by Da Vinci was covered in icing. Why cake? Your guess is as good as mine but he then proceeded to shout “think of planet Earth!” in what seems to be a somewhat poorly designed act of eco protest. Have a look at the damage. If he was hoping to draw some attention, he at least succeeded in that.

Now before you panic, it seems the art world had anticipated an ambush like this (or more likely a less random act of vandalism) and protected the Mona Lisa with a thick pane of glass, and no lasting damage was done.

Let me ask you a question. If you walked into the Louvre for the first time and saw the Mona Lisa smeared with white vanilla streaks and the bottom half resembling the finger-painting of a toddler, what would you assume about the painter? What conclusions would you draw? Would you have assumed Da Vinci was a hack? Would you have told all your friends not to believe the hype? Would you blame him for the vandalism?

I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you wouldn’t. No one would removed this renaissance master from the history books simply because someone else defaced his artwork. It is clear that there was something truly beautiful, created my a legendary artist, that was marred by someone else and it in no way reflects on the character of it’s creator.

Why then do we do we use a different criteria for God? Many people can’t see the hand of an Almighty Creator in the canvas of creation because they see the effects of pain and suffering. They assume that God must not have painted well because the Earth is so very imperfect, or that it’s a sign there is no God at all. But far more convincing is the explanation that the greatest artist of all painted a masterpiece in atoms and molecules, but an enemy sowed sin and destruction in the space between them. This world is beautiful and broken. In that order. It’s why you can be awed by a sunset one day, and running from a hurricane the next. If we can see the hand of a bad actor in the Louvre, why not in the mountains and the sky?

Attention Determines Direction

Focus is a powerful thing. Where you fix your attention can affect everything from your mood, the speed at which you recover, to the health of your relationships.

In three questions Tony Robbins summed up why so many of us are fighting an uphill battle in our everyday lives.

We often don't realize it until it's too late, but so often:

Attention determines Direction in our lives.

1) What does your average person focus on, the things they can control or the things they can’t?

The things they can’t. If you’re anything like me, you tend to fixate on the big things in life you have absolutely no control over. The weather, the economy, the way someone else is going to react… we focus on the things in life that we have no ability to affect. No wonder we worry. No wonder we’re anxious. We try to pull a level that is forever out of our reach.

What we need is faith.

2) What does your average person focus on, the things they have or the things they don’t?

The things they don’t. We come by it honestly. Research tells us we’re bombarded with roughly 5,000 advertisements every day of all the things we don’t have but should want. We fix our thoughts on all the things in our lives that are missing, instead of the wondrous blessings we already have. No wonder we feel dissatisfied. We’ve filled our minds with our lack.

What we need is gratitude.

3) What does your average person focus on, the past, the present, or the future?

The past. With the exception of the strivers among us who are relentlessly future focused, most people fixate on the past. They think on the things they wish they had changed, and grieve over what they would have, should have, or could have done if given a second chance. But the past is over. It cannot be changed. It is entombed in the concrete of spent time and space. No wonder we feel discouraged. You cannot see ahead of you when your eyes are always looking back.

What we need is hope.

If you want to change your life, change where you look. And when you don't know which way to stare, look up.