The Gospel Kid

Hello there, dear readers.

It has been a while hasn't it? Thank you for your patience (or maybe you just forgot about it). Either way, the blog has not been abandoned, I have merely not found anything to write about for the last few months.

Nonetheless, this blog is still alive and I have no intention of abandoning it. For as long as the Lord is teaching his servant I will be telling about it. So I suppose that it is a good sign that I am writing again, for that means that Jesus has not abandoned me. And boy do I have a tale to tell.

As many of you know, I am now a staff candidate with Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship, and I have been assigned the role of Campus Minister at Brock University in Saint Catharines, ON. I spent the summer resting, vacationing and fundraising for my move to St. Catharines in September.

Since my move to St. Catharines in September, much inconvenience, hardship and discouragement has taken place in my life, often in absurd ways. The following are reflections on what God is doing in the midst of the storm.

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In the Scriptures, we are told of a man from the land of Uz whose name was Job. He was blameless and upright, and apparently God was extremely proud of him. So proud, in fact, that he uses Job as an example of righteousness before his angels, in particular Satan.

Satan then tells God that the only reason Job fears God is because God has blessed him and protected him so extravagantly and that the moment those blessings are taken away he will surely curse God. God then allows Satan to wreak havoc with all Job's possessions and loved ones, but not on the man himself.

What follows is a series of calamities that would befit a Looney Tunes cartoon fall on Job, and apparently that isn't enough because after Job refuses to blame God for any of the 1000 anvils that have fallen on him Satan tells God that if Job himself were stricken then he would curse God. So God allows Satan to inflict Job with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

So, with all his sons and daughters dead, his flocks and servants dead, his land ruined, his entire body racked in pain, and a wife who urges him to "curse God and die", the rest of the book records Job's poetic conversation with his friends, who have come to "comfort" Job by insisting that God is punishing the poor man for his sins. (Seriously, Job may have been a righteous man, but he had really bad discernment when it came to friends.)

I mention this story because it is one of the most mind-baffling accounts in all of Scripture, and while I have often pondered why God would allow such a thing, I never expected that I myself would be put in similarly puzzling circumstances.

While none of my family and friends have died and I have not developed some deadly disease, I have also lived through an absurd number of minor (and some major) inconveniences these past two months.

After moving into St. Catharines, I have had the following happen to me:

1. A recurrence of my previous case of gastroparesis, in which I was unable to digest food and found myself in pain when I ate.
2. My bedroom window broke.
3. I lost my car keys.
   
4. After I found them, my car had engine troubles, so I went back to Toronto to get it fixed.
5. All of the above happened in the first two weeks. Starting the third week, I came down with a pretty intense case of the common cold, which lasted about two weeks. I still have a residual cough from that. (My new housemates are wagering on whether I will still be coughing after Christmas.)
   
6. At the cashier, I found out that some money I was carrying was counterfeit.
   
7. Soon after I recovered from my cold, my computer was infected by some kind of malware, and was put out of commission for a couple days.
8. And then the big one. The day I picked up my fixed computer, I was involved in a car accident. I was unharmed but my car was finished, and because I had only third-party liability insurance there was no insurance money received. I was also at fault, so I was decked with a careless driving ticket.

As you can see, any one of these (aside from the car accident) are relatively minor and by themselves are not much cause for complaint. But there were a few factors that made it seem a lot worse.

First, I neglected to mention that going into September I had difficulties fundraising and was not yet on salary with Inter-Varsity. The plan was to get settled in quickly and then start networking and get funded the rest of the way and start working on campus as soon as possible. Therefore, money and time were kind of at a premium, and a lot of those inconveniences listed above were very good at bleeding my wallet dry and wearing my patience thin.

Second, all those things happened in a period of about six weeks. About half of that I spent sick, and the other half I spent dealing with the other stuff. It didn't really leave a whole lot of time for doing what I was supposed to be doing: networking, meeting with people, meeting with students, resting, writing newsletters, updating my blog, etc. This, of course, meant that I was then even more stressed about the living situation, and how long I would be able to keep this going.

Third, all this time I also had to adjust to the rigours of adjusting to a new city, new community, new living arrangement. I had been sent alone and did not know anyone in the city, nor did I have fellow staff with me in St. Catharines. Thus I battled feelings on loneliness constantly, and with the things I had happen to me I was constantly needing to re-organize and re-orient my life, which took its physical and emotional toll.

Fourth, all of this caused me to wonder whether I was actually doing the right thing, whether I was really sent here for this mission. It also made me wonder, like Job, whether this was some kind of punishment for my failures and lack of faith. And I found myself asking God, "If you really want me to be here and serve you, then WHY? I don't know if you have your heads in the clouds or something, but in case you didn't realize, this ISN'T HELPING!" The whole situation was so absurd and surreal that there were times that I couldn't help but laugh. But it was a defeatist, self-pitying laughter. Is the Universe really against me? Should I just give up?

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So, out of this fog of despair and discouragement he came. No, not Jesus. And thankfully, not Satan either. But Mr. Miyagi.

Well, okay, it was probably Jesus, but he looked like Mr. Miyagi so it was hard to be sure.

For those of you unfamiliar with The Karate Kid, Mr. Miyagi is the odd but humble maintenance man who is secretly a karate master. He adopts Daniel Larusso, a weak but spirited teenager, as a son and teaches him karate in order to resolve Daniel's recurring harassment at the hands of a bunch of bullies who practice a brutal and vicious brand of martial arts.

And there was a scene in the movie through which Sensei Jesus spoke to me. The turning point of the movie occurs when Mr. Miyagi agrees to train Daniel in karate, in order that he might show up at the karate tournament and confront his bullies on equal footing. Daniel expects to be taught how to fight, but instead, Miyagi makes him wash and wax his car, sand his deck, paint his fence and paint his house.

Bemused, Daniel obeys, but not without his fair share of grumbling. Finally, after another exhausting day of painting, Daniel snaps and has a go at his sensei, accusing him of taking advantage of him and using him as his slave. As Daniel is about to leave, Mr. Miyagi forcefully confronts him, and in a scene in which you have to see to appreciate, shows Daniel that all that "useless work" he was doing was in fact training him in self-defense techniques through muscle memory.

When I saw that, clarity hit me like a ton of bricks. My entire perspective on my ordeal over the last couple months was changed.

Like Daniel, I saw what had happened to me as completely counter-productive to the task at hand. After all, how could being sick, not being able to fundraise, not being able to meet with students, having my ability to travel compromised by lost car keys, engine troubles and car accidents, not being able to connect with the loss of my computer -- how could all those things be helpful when the desired goal was to be funded, be settled, and ready to start working with students on campus?

Well, it turns out that while I was focusing on how to throw punches, Jesus was secretly training me in self-defense, self-discipline, conditioning, attitude and balance, all fundamentals that are much more important than punches and kicks when it comes to the martial arts.

For in the midst of the turmoil, I was required to:

• increase in faith and depend on God as friend, provider and strength
• deal with how my troubles had caused me to be worried and anxious, thus requiring me to increase in patience and more deeply root myself in God's grace and peace.
  
• address my tendency to lose focus really quickly in life, represented by the momentary lapse in concentration that led to the car accident
• endure hardship and suffering
  
• persevere in the face of obstacles
• come to a greater understanding and knowledge of myself and my own sin patterns and sinful tendencies
• be firm and convinced in my calling
• address feelings of loneliness and allow God to come into more areas of my heart that his love has not touched.
• learn how to rejoice in the midst of suffering
• lose many material possessions, and remember that where the treasure is, there the heart will be also.

When I made this list, I was as pleasantly surprised as Daniel was when Mr. Miyagi started punching him and he was magically able to deflect all the blows. All of a sudden, I realized that all these things that had happened to me was not a cosmic practical joke that God had played on me, but a deliberate and merciful (albeit painful) lesson in the fundamentals of godliness and the gospel life.

For as the apostle Paul writes to his own "Daniel" in Timothy:

"...rather, train yourself to be godly. For physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come. This is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance. That is why we labor and strive, because we have put our hope in the living God, who is the Savior of all people, and especially of those who believe....Be diligent in these matters; give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress. Watch your life and doctrine closely. Persevere in them, because if you do, you will save both yourself and your hearers." 1 Timothy 4: 8-10, 15-16.

"For the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs. But you, man of God, flee from all this, and pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance and gentleness. Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made your good confession in the presence of many witnesses." 1 Timothy 6:10-12.

And Paul continues his training of Timothy:

"For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. So do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner. But join with me in suffering for the gospel, by the power of God, who has saved us and called us to a holy life..." 2 Timothy 1:6-9.

"You then, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus....Join with me in suffering, like a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No one serving as a soldier gets involved in civilian affairs; rather, they try to please their commanding officer. Similarly, anyone who competes as an athlete does not receive the victor's crown except by competing according to the rules. The hardworking farmer should be the first to receive a share of the crops. Reflect on what I am saying, for the Lord will give you insight into all this." 2 Timothy 2: 1, 3-7.

"You, however, now all about my teaching, my way of life, my purpose, faith, patience, love, endurance, persecutions, sufferings--...the persecutions I endured. Yet the Lord rescued me from all of them. In fact, everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted...But as for you, continue in what you have become convinced of, because you know those from whom you have learned it, and how from infancy you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus." 2 Timothy 3:10-15.

Therefore, I realize now that I had been put through a six-week crash course in the fruits of the Spirit and been conditioned with the necessary strength for a soldier of Jesus Christ. For before confronting the challenges of front-line ministry, I must be reminded that the true goal of all this is the cultivation of godliness and faith expressing itself in love, not about numbers, conversions or any other measure of achievements on the mission field. Like learning to punch and kick, those things will come, but just as the soul of karate is its message of respect, self-discipline and balance, so is the soul of the gospel its message of love, joy, peace, righteousness, hope, endurance, perseverance, grace, truth and courage. All ministry must flow out of those things if it is to be truly godly ministry, and if I am to teach others the Gospel, I must first know what it is myself.

That said, I know that this is just the beginning. I have been humbled by this whole experience, and I know the training will continue to be vigorous, even if I will have a better idea of what the training is actually all about. The real test, the tournament, is still to come. Trials and testings will only get more severe with increased faithfulness, not less.

But as Mr. Miyagi told Daniel before his training, karate is like traveling on a road as you near a partition. You can go right, or you can go left, but if you go in the middle you will be squashed like a grape. To try to follow Jesus without 100% devotion is foolish, and I have gone too far right to try to turn left anymore.

I'm ready, Sensei Jesus. I want to be the Gospel Kid. Let's go.

P.S. Please pray for me during this time. Life continues to knock me down, but please pray that the Lord will provide the necessary faith, hope, strength and courage to endure and persevere. And I ask that you not pray in pity for me, but pray that the Lord would continue to put me at the fore-front of the things that are really hard, for "No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have trained by it." Hebrews 12: 11

Sin and the refreshing after taste of Chinese bitter melon

Just as you who were at one time disobedient to God have now received mercy as a result of their disobedience (Israel's), so they too have now become disobedient in order that they too may now receive mercy as a result of God's mercy to you. For God has bound everyone over to disobedience so that he may have mercy on them all.

Romans 11:30-32.

Growing up, there were a number of traditional Chinese dishes I found simply nauseating. Perhaps it was growing up in a hamburger and french fries culture, but a lot of the 'delicacies' of Chinese cuisine I would gladly go without, thank you.

One of the more noteworthy ones, in part because our family had it all the time, was a melon that features prominently in Cantonese cuisine. I don't know the English name for it because as far as I know no Caucasian has ever had a bite of it and not spit it out of his or her mouth, or maybe it's because we Chinese people are just clever at choosing to serve our white friends Chinese food that won't make them think we're nuts. I don't know, but if you translate it directly, it is called 'bitter melon', and it's called that because [wait, it's a surprise!] it tastes bitter! (Don't you wish all food was this simple?)

Now, I understand that people all over the world have different tastes, but I have never quite understood why people like bitter melon. I mean, it's not "That-slight-tinge-on-the-tongue" bitter, it's a full blown "Gosh-I-feel-like-my-mouth-is-going-to-cave-in-on-itself" bitter. When they say it's bitter, they are not kidding around. It also doesn't make much survival sense. I mean, in nature, if something tastes bitter it usually means it's going to make you sick, or high, or both. Deathly mushrooms taste bitter, like seriously. Whose idea was it to take this stomach-churning vegetable and make it a staple of our diet anyway? I'd like to go back in time and give him a good talking to.

Now, some foods are kind of disgusting but I can still kind of get why people like them. Spicy foods don't make much sense to me but I can understand that it gives a nice kick and excitement. Same goes for sour candy. Cheese is sour milk, which is kind of gross, but it's also, well, whatever, it's not bitter. Even a lot of those strange animal parts we Chinese are notorious for, I mean, at least it's protein right? At least they don't taste poisonous (well, most of the time). But bitter. Seriously, when's the last time you asked someone what taste they like the most and they said, "Bitter"? No, bitterness is the worst taste to have in one's mouth, more than any other taste we can experience it screams to us that it shouldn't even be in proximity to one's taste buds, let alone wreaking havoc in our digestive systems.

And yet, and yet....over the last few years I have begun to see this inconspicuous little vegetable a little differently. My Chinese elders tell me that there is a refreshing after taste to the bitter melon. I have always told them that I have Nestea for that. They just told me that one has to grow into it, that one appreciates it more with age. Bitter melon, they said, was one of those mysterious gets-better-with-age things, like love, wine, classical music, and other subtle 'boring' things that youths just don't get (give us the sex, beer and punk rock music, we say). Most of my life I just shrugged this off, but recently I have mysteriously begun to enjoy eating bitter melon (yeah, seriously, I'm getting old) and even experience a little bit of that refreshing after taste my elders are talking about. And it turns out that there actually is a very pure, open, soothing feeling after the bitterness, and the lack of sugar to tone down the bitterness (like in tea and coffee) is precisely the thing that makes the refreshment so pure, like drinking pure spring water versus drinking apple juice, for example.


So why this long tirade about my people group's eating habits? Well, I've related it all to you because I feel it's a wonderful illustration of how Christians (and people in general) relate to the doctrine of sin. Sin is a doctrine that is quickly falling out of vogue in modern life. A long history of being associated with imperialism, colonialism, deplorable missionary practices and fire-and-brimstone preaching has made it one of the most hated doctrines of the modern world. (Paradoxically, our judgementalism and self-righteousness towards that previous generation merely reveals that they were right in their diagnosis of human beings as sinful. In our very denunciation of sin we prove our own sinfulness, but that discussion is for another day.)

Today, we speak more of our brokenness (which shifts the focus from the wrongs we have committed to those which have been committed against us) and less of our sinfulness (the wrongs we have committed against others). Now, I don't mean to belittle our brokenness. I have spoken at lengths on my own brokenness, and we would all grow greatly if we knew more of our brokenness and went to Jesus to be healed of it. The truth is we are both sinful and broken people. But I have come to realize that we just love seeing ourselves as victims in everything. As a Chinese I love reminding the Japanese of their war crimes, but when it comes to considering the several millenia long list of atrocities we have committed against Tibetans, Mongolians, Koreans, Vietnamese, and hundreds of tribal peoples, I am strangely silent.

My favourite speaker at Urbana was Mr. Ruyashire from Rwanda, speaking on the reconciliation of Hutus and Tutsis in his home country after the Genocide of 1994. As a Tutsi he was a target of the Hutu-dominated government, and his story was a moving account of his journey from hatred to love, acceptance and forgiveness of his enemies. I especially loved how brutally honest he was in regards to just how difficult it is to truly forgive someone, saying how it is the most difficult thing in the world, that it's like dying. While I loved his talk, I would say that there is something more difficult than even that: truly confessing and asking for forgiveness. I am not talking about the fake half-confessions we give to each other and to God because we want to avoid fully owning up to something or to avoid conflict and punishment. True confession is a submission to those you have wronged, a complete acceptance of responsibility, an attitude of vulnerability on your part and a relinquishment of the desire to see them own up too. As Mr. Ruyashire said so eloquently, "I made a list of all those to whom I was angry with cause, then God told me that I had no cause." (Remember, he's talking about dudes that killed his family) What a bitter, bitter pill--nay, melon, to have to eat. I'm not sure if I have ever fully forgiven anyone or fully confessed anything.

So I asked God to give me eyes to see. Why ARE we so afraid to face and admit our own sinfulness and brokenness? To ourselves, to others, or to God? I have found that the way we think God sees us and feels about us has a great deal of importance in regards to how we treat ourselves and other people, and especially in regards to how forgiving we are to those who have wronged us and how willing we are to confess and repent. I realized that all my life, although I 'knew' that Jesus had died for my sins and that the Father accepts us now because of that, I always had the sense that God wanted me to see the ugliness and depth of my sin. I had the impression that God the Father wanted me to know how despicable I was so that I would know just how much I owed Him and His Son. Yes, he loves and accepts me, but His heart desire was to show how bad I was and how good He was. I'm exaggerating but this vision of reality is imprinted on the minds of children in 99% of all human families. Don't parents say, "See, look at what you've done..." with the tone of voice clearly implying that they want their child to see and understand just how much they have hurt that person or their parents? Don't parents say, "This is hurting me more than you" (especially in movies)? What this creates is a belief in all of us that when an authority (parent, teacher, pastor, coach, God) confronts us with our sinfulness, what they are interested in is our feelings of guilt and responsibility and an affirmation of their superiority and authority over us. In other words, they wanted us to taste the bitterness of just how ugly our insides really were. And sadly, many of our life experiences have merely reaffirmed this vision of God.

What I have taken 23 years to discover is that God the Father is NOT like that. Before this realization I was afraid to be in the presence of God because I was not created for guilt or shame, so naturally I had an aversion to, and fear of, going into a place where I would face those two things. Like bitter melon, it just isn't natural at first. But it tastes so bitter because our view of God is wrong. If we saw God's heart desires for what they really are, facing our own sin would still be bitter, but not nearly as bitter as we thought at first.

Perhaps another personal story will illustrate what I mean. I carry with me a number of habitual sins. It's not important what they are, it's likely you have your own. As I have gone shamefully again and again to the feet of Christ acknowledging them and acknowledging that I actually DON'T want to change, I have grown dejected and discouraged over my seemingly hopeless situation. Worse still, I knew that God was powerful enough to change that, He holds the hearts of all people in the palm of his hands, after all. So the only conclusion I could come up with was that God was using my slavery to these sins to show me in greater depth just how sinful and broken and pitiful I was and how much I needed the blood of Jesus. Then I read this little gem of a paragraph from David G. Benner's Surrender to Love:

Suppose that with God's help I am able to love my son unconditionally. But if he is desperately trying to please me, the unconditional nature of my love will not be noticed. And there will be no deep experience of knowing himself deeply and unconditionally loved. Receiving love while he is trying to earn it will only reinforce his efforts to be lovable. Far from being transformational, this will only increase his efforts to earn love. And any love he receives will only be experienced as the fruit of these efforts.

How incredible it is to think that God permits us to wander from him, even to continue in our sinful ways, NOT so that He can prove his righteousness, but so that He can demonstrate just how unconditional and how great is His love for us. Here I was, trying so hard all my life to make myself a better person so that I could be more lovable, and what I find out is that actually God's creatively subvertive plan is to take our very sinfulness and turn it into the very thing that will glorify Him and make known to His children the wonders and depths of His love. It is the reason why God didn't stop Adam and Eve from eating of the fruit of knowledge of good and evil, it is the reason Jesus died on the cross, and it is the reason we are told to eat of the bitter melon. (Think about it for a second, when was the last time you were bad and your mommy and daddy took you aside and told you they permitted it because they wanted to show you how much they were willing to forgive because they loved you and then proceeded to buy you an ice cream cone? Well, that's what God does.)

Repentance is defined as a turning from one thing (sin) to another (God). The reason it is so difficult for so many of us (and for me) is because when we turn to face God we believe we are turning to face judgement and condemnation, even if that stuff was already laid on Jesus. And who wants to turn towards someone like that? (If your mommy or daddy told you you were forgiven because they had bull-whipped your older brother on account of you, would you really not be afraid and think of them as forgiving? Probably not.)

But the way to experience this is to first come into the realization of our sinfulness, and admit it fully and sincerely. (If you think you're in the right then you can experience none of this.) This is the bitter melon I am talking about, and the result is a breath of refreshing air that gives birth to new life with God. It is the experience of otherworldly grace and love that has transformed me, not the threat of punishment or the laying on of guilt and shame. The sad thing is that as long as we are like modern North American Chinese youth and focus on sugary foods (like how other people have hurt us, our brokenness) our experience of Jesus and God will only be that of a benevolent, compassionate good doctor. This is very profound, but as good as it is, if it leaves our longing for self-justification and blindness to our own darkness intact, we will miss out on the wonderful fresh air that comes in the aftermath of bringing our sinful, wicked selves before God.

I have written this very very long post (yes I know it's long) because like those Chinese elders talking about bitter melon I've tasted the sweet after taste of coming to terms with my own sinfulness and a more lasting, deeper joy, a joy that comes through eating something that at first tastes bitter and like death, but which has enabled me to more fully receive the love of God, and be transformed by it.

Now one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, so he went to the Pharisee's house and reclined at the table. When a woman who had lived a sinful life in that town learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee's house, she brought an alabaster jar of perfume, and as she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them.

When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner."

Jesus answered him, "Simon, I have something to tell you."
"Tell me, teacher," he said.

"Two men owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he canceled the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?"

Simon replied, "I suppose the one who had the bigger debt canceled."
"You have judged correctly," Jesus said.

Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little."

Then Jesus said to her, "Your sins are forgiven."

The other guests began to say among themselves, "Who is this who even forgives sins?"

Jesus said to the woman, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace."

Luke 7:36-50.

Djimon Hounsou says "Not yet", but Jesus says "Right now."

I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?

The Bible tells us that at the Tower of Babel, where humans aimed to build a tower to the heavens, God came down and confused the tongues of the human race; and we have been feeling the effects ever since. I have also discovered that in addition to our cultural and linguistic diversity, each person has their own particular language of the heart, and God has this way of using very different media and methods to communicate with us as we walk with Him. I am only beginning to discover what my own 'language' is, but from what I have discovered so far, it's a lot of fun and it's very specifically tailored to who I am. It's all part of the wonderful master plan of diversity of life in the mind of our Creator.

One of the media that God uses to give me images of who He is as well as His interpretations of situations is film. I don't even like movies that much, and I rarely ever go to the cinema, but when I do watch a movie I have learned to pay special attention, as often there is stuff that is revealed there.

Since my last post, one particular movie scene has resonated with me, particularly in helping me understand the way in which I should approach this period of waiting and anticipation for new life. As I related in my last post, it is difficult to preach life in one's day to day walk when one has one's own brokenness going on before you, with no sight of healing or resurrection before one's eyes. During such a time, the scene at the end of the 2000 historic epic, Gladiator, came to mind. After Maximus has killed the evil emperor and is reunited with his family in the afterlife, his friend Juba (played by Djimon Hounsou) takes the little figurines of Maximus' family, buries it in the dirt of the Colosseum arena, looks skyward and says, "I will see you again, but not yet. Pause [He smiles] Not yet."

It is a pretty epic moment, and I used that as a reminder to myself that sometimes our experiences of loss, (like Juba losing his only friend in the world) while painful, can be an occasion to demonstrate our true mettle, and a period of learning about one's own strength of character (or lack thereof). Waiting while in places of death, like coming face to face with one's own sinfulness and brokenness, is a spiritual discipline of contemplation and reflection, and a crucial step in the journey to union with God. I am beginning to learn how to walk through those periods, and that scene helped convince me to respond by taking a deep breath and doing something awesome instead of wallowing in grief.

Such an act, however, can get weary, and I faced such weariness this month. But right now I am able to relate to you an experience that demonstrates not the difficulty of waiting, but the joyful arrival of resurrection.

At the beginning of this month (December 2009), I went to a retreat at Creef Hills (is that how you spell it?) with the other interns from Waterloo and Hamilton. During an afternoon we had for individual reflection I found the wooden cross that they had erected in their outdoor quiet area. At the foot of the cross there was a plaque with Jesus' words to Martha in front of Lazarus' tomb, "I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die." The plaque didn't have the conclusion of that verse, but I knew what it was in my heart. Jesus says, "Do you believe this?"

I wept because I realized at that point that although I thought I believed it, when confronted with the real life reality of my sinfulness, broken relationships and disappointed heart, my response was merely that of Martha's, "I know he will rise again in the resurrection of the last day." It is lip service voicing a vague hope in the next world, but like Martha, I needed to learn that the present Jesus is fully alive and IS the resurrection and the life, here and now.

As I have reflected on that experience of being at the foot of the cross over the past month, Jesus has worked miracles in the lives of family members and friends around me; miracles that, in a roundabout way, have brought resolution and healing to a lot of my own brokenness. It has allowed me to fully forgive them and to more fully recognize and confess my own judgemental, sinful self. Perhaps more importantly, it has given me a profound understanding of how Jesus is indeed the resurrection and the life, not just at Armageddon but here and now, and that He is powerfully at work to heal us and make us whole even now.

I have been in a daze over the past couple weeks (my sister will tell you that I'm kind of always in a daze, but this is on top of that, so you can imagine all the strange looks she gives me. Yes, sis, I know you give me strange looks. Love you too.) And I have found a new closeness to the Father and a great increase in my adoration of His Son, whose enduring of our sin and shame and subsequent journey through the gates of Hell made this resurrection and new life possible. I have also found an irrepressible hope for all the world, because if God the Father loves the rest of us as much as he has shown He has loved me (and I believe He does), then truly there is no one so sinful or broken that cannot be saved from the Abyss. Truly, worthy is the Lamb!

After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice:

"Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb."

All the angels were standing around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures. They fell down on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, saying:

"Amen! Praise and glory and wisdom and thanks and honor and power and strength be to our God for ever and ever. Amen!"

Then one of the elders asked me, "These in white robes -- who are they, and where did they come from?"

I answered, "Sir, you know."

And he said, "These are they who have come out of the great tribulation; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore,

"they are before the throne of God and serve him day and night in his temple; and he who sits on the throne will spread his tent over them.

'Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst. The sun will not beat down on them,' nor any scorching heat.

For the Lamb at the center before the throne will be their shepherd; 'he will lead them to springs of living water.' 'And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.'"

Revelation 7:9-17.

Thank you, Lord Jesus.

Note: Do you know from which famous painting and painter comes the image at the beginning of this post? Reply in the comments below. I'll give the answer in the next post.

Why I think the dead Jesus in the tomb may be even cooler than the resurrected One.

So it turns out I was wrong. The Phillies remained who I thought they were and the Yankees remained who I thought they were too. The thing is, I still wasn't all that disappointed that the Yankees won. Pffft, whatever, baseball season is over. I can go back to cheering against the Yankees in April.

On more important issues, I finally feel like I have a good grasp of the students and this community here on campus and have established a good rapport with the student leaders, so it's exciting, and I look forward to being challenged further and challenging them further as well.

You know what else is challenging? Maintaining a blog. Some call it perseverance, but I think a better way of putting it is "stick-to-it-tiveness", (it's definition is pretty much the word itself. Don't you wish all English was like that?) a stubborn resolution to see something to the end or something like that. I don't know, I read it in a book somewhere.

There was an evening about a week ago where I got to see just how much "stick" I had in me. There has been a lot of drama (most of it unhealthy) in the Mac fellowship this year, and I've been meeting with a student who's been in the thick of it. Feeling inadequate to deal with that, and also having a lot of my own past brokenness been brought up during the course of my quiet times with God, I felt spiritually and emotionally bankrupt, and was kind of (i.e. very) impatient with how God was acting (or NOT acting) in that moment.

So I was walking to meet with Pete, my supervisor and ministry director, and a shocking thought popped into my mind: "Why not just give up? Why not just walk away from the internship? People won't fault you (wishful thinking, but at the moment it didn't seem like it) ...you tried hard and have already shown more dedication and patience than most. Maybe you heard wrong back in the spring. There are other places to serve the Kingdom, clearly all that optimism in September was deceiving." Now, it was a spur of the moment thing, but almost immediately I realized that I was incapable of walking away. Like Peter and the rest of the twelve after Jesus' famously crass message in John 6, I had invested too deeply, thrown my whole life onto his back, I just couldn't walk away.

Moreover, God has been showing me a lot of deep stuff this past while, stuff that's kind of hard to put into words because God is so much bigger than words. Stuff about myself, Him and people that's earth shattering in many ways. I had wondered before the internship whether that kind of self-shattering and life-altering growth would occur again (I had my doubts) and here it was again, why WOULDN'T I stay and see it through? So I realized that while I am not that good with sticking with many things (updating a blog, for one) there is one kind of glue that I am stuck with, the glue of addiction to more of Jesus. Sometimes it's confusing, sometimes even infuriating, sometimes full of sadness, sometimes full of unspeakable joy, and sometimes full of all those things (but you will notice, it's never ever boring). Still, I keep coming back to Him, it's the darndest thing.

And the thing is, far from frightening me, when that thought of giving up had entered my mind, I actually found it a relief. I am always wondering whether there is a capacity within me to become a Judas Iscariot. Am I really going to walk away from what Jesus is doing within me and with me? To my relief and joy, I realized that I am stuck to Jesus, and honestly, whatever doubts come, that's pretty good to know, at least for now.


That said, I am still living in a place where there has been much revelation of darkness and brokenness, but the healing has yet to come, and I don't see how it can come either. I asked Jesus to show me just how sinful and broken I am, and then He told me, and then I went, "Oh no, why oh WHY did I ask?" So right now I am doing ministry out of a period of waiting, a period between the crucifixion and the resurrection. It's an odd place, because you feel like time stands still, and it is very difficult, and it happens to all of us. So when I was talking to Pete that night, he told me to meditate on the Jesus in the tomb, during the three days he had to wait between his crucifixion and resurrection.

As I waited on God in prayer, I was reminded of a rather obscure passage in the letter of 1st Peter that tells of Christ making proclamation to dead souls in Hades while he was in the tomb. Let me tell you, if you think the notion of God becoming a man of flesh is weird, the notion of a dead God walking through Hades, preaching salvation to all the people who have ever lived is about ten times weirder (and by extension, ten times more awesome). I walked alongside Jesus as he stood there in his mutilated body (he's still dead remember?) and told the billions of people who were in Hades of the promise of resurrection to those who believe. I walked alongside him as he made his rounds through the crowds and said to Him, "But Lord, you are still dead and cut off from the Father. How do you know that there will be resurrection?" And Jesus turned to me, smiled, and (honest to goodness) said, "I don't." Then he smiled and continued ministering to someone else along the way.

Strange to think, that God HIMSELF knows what it's like to doubt God. God HIMSELF knows what it's like to have all our sin and brokenness condemn us to Hell. He went through that, he LIVED there. And despite all His knowledge of His Father's heart, the fact remains that Jesus had committed His life into His FATHER's hands, not His own. He knows what it's like to live in death and not be sure of the future.

[Let me say that I don't think this experience was in any way meant to educate me on the theology of the end times, the Godhead, heaven and hell, or salvation. It was meant to enlighten and encourage me to continue walking alongside Jesus even in deathly places, for he has gone through those too, and even knows what it's like to doubt.]

Then Jesus put his arms around my shoulders and invited me to come with him. "Three days is a short time to reach all these people, I could use the help." "But Lord, I'm not even convinced there is life at the end of all this." "I know," Jesus said, "as I told you, I don't either, but I know my Father, and because you know me, you know the Father also. Sometimes He seems a bit slow, but you know who He is. And the fact that we're invading Hades and doing this out of a place of death and doubt only makes it that much more awesome."

So, I decided to go along, or rather, am deciding to decide that I should go along. Because I figure, "I'm already IN the tomb, might as well do something awesome while I'm there. I have all eternity to be alive and secure in the knowledge of God, this is a chance I won't get very often."

So right now I am going to do ministry with students and seek to reach the campus and preach of resurrection and new life even as I am waiting for the new life to fully manifest itself in my own. But Jesus has His arms around me and is there, doing it with me because, well, He's just awesome too.

So please pray for courage and faith for the two of us (okay, ME) as we seek to minister from within the tomb. (Please pray also that it would be awesome, I'd like that. ;)

The Grace of the Lord Jesus be with you,

Samuel

Overdue update, or Why gas leaks may be a good thing.

Hi all,

Sorry for the lengthy delay between posts. Y'all remember how I was talkin' all that smack about how the internship was like a sabbath, but that in a month's time things would probably be different? Well, it's been a month, just so you know. Hehe.

My friend Edgar once described doing ministry as increasing the pressure in the natural gas pipeline running through your house. With the increased pressure you can more easily spot the cracks in the pipe system. And there are a lot of cracks showing over here in Hamilton. There have been cracks exposed amongst the student community, particularly among the leaders, and within all three of us interns and our housemates as well.

Fundamental to all of these 'cracks' is this strange and profound truth: as you love others, and really love them, you will bear more suffering because you help them bear theirs, you will likely be hurt, and if you are listening to God in all of this will likely have deep wounds from within come to the surface. It doesn't really sound like a good deal at all, but the mystery is that this whole phenomenon can yield a self-understanding and a joy like no other. This is how Jesus loves us, and as His disciple I can expect nothing else than to be called to follow in those footsteps.

Oswald Chambers once said that entering the mission field doesn't build one's character or faith, but rather reveals the true nature and quality of one's character and faith. And I have found myself to be strong in ways I didn't expect and weak in other ways I didn't expect. And I pray that as the other students, interns, housemates and IVCF staff around me walk through this year they may also come to a greater self-understanding and be drawn closer to Jesus, who breaks us down and reveals our true selves to us not to expose us, but rather to cover and heal us.

So I'll leave it at that for now, it's late over here, but lifting up of this entire community in prayer would be greatly appreciated, as always.

Furthermore, keeping in line with the fact that about 95% of my daily thoughts are actually NOT deep spiritual contemplations, I will now post more regularly on the other zany aspects of my bizarre thought life, because it simply isn't mentally sustainable to write a post like the ones I've been doing week in, week out. So if the next time you read this blog you end up wondering what kind of wacko person has hijacked my blog, know that you've been warned.

[Insider's joke: Edgar, I'm afraid the orcs will have to wait for a bit, but there have been other 'monsters' that we're dealing with over here, as surely you are familiar with such imagery. ;)]

First random thought: I was watching Game 1 of the World Series this evening, and like a good Blue Jays fan was cheering desperately for the Yankees to lose. (Not to mention I've kind of felt sorry for the Phillies ever since Joe Carter hit that home run at their expense.) And then the strangest thing happened. By the end of the 5-run beatdown the Phils had laid on the Yanks, it felt like the boys in red were the big bad sluggers with indomitable pitching while the guys in pinstripes were overpowered, out-pitched and out-managed. In other words, it really does seem like the Phillies are now the new Yankees, building a dynasty by coming up big in the postseason and beating their foes into submission. I actually felt sympathy for this new likable underdog Yankees team by the 7th inning (I know, the Yankees! Seriously!) I almost want the Yankees to win so that I have a legitimate reason for hating on them again. (Yeah, being a sports fan is weird.)

Anyway, that was that. Have a good one, people. Thanks for reading. :)

Samuel

Why going into ministry is like being a pro tennis player

As some of you who have lived with me might know, I am an avid tennis fan, and my devotion to following the game has grown in recent years, in part because of one Roger Federer and one Rafael Nadal and their epic exploits on the court. Thus, one of my preferred methods of procrastination these days is loitering in and around the web space of Tennis.com and reading the blogs of some of the more established tennis writers of our day. They are good writers, but they certainly aren't going to win the Noble Prize for Literature. But there have been extraordinary writers that have occasionally dabbled their pens into the little niche of tennis fandom. David Foster Wallace, the late author whose life was tragically cut short earlier this year, was somewhat of a renegade in the world of literature, his unique imagination and lucid description set him apart and on a number of occasions he wrote wonderful short pieces on the sport of tennis for magazines and newspapers.

Tennis.com recently did a celebration of his works and one of their bloggers posted a series of posts reviewing his works. When I read them, I was of course impressed with Wallace's writing, but more importantly, I somehow stumbled upon the best description of what it must be like to go on staff with Inter-Varsity, or indeed any kind of ministry. In another post, I found myself reading a description of Wallace's perception of Michael Joyce, a pro tennis player whom he had interviewed, and perceived that his description of both his own feelings towards Joyce and the role tennis has had in shaping his character could certainly be used to describe what it must be like for people who encounter IVCF staff, pastors, or even, short-term interns, like me (I'll go over this in my next post). In the end I heard the voice of the Spirit through the prose of a late author writing about hitting a ball over a net. Strange, but true. Jesus is rather creative like that.

Here's the first excerpt:

Wallace describes Michael Joyce’s own love for tennis, which he was forced to play by his father:

The marvelous part is the way Joyce’s face looks when he talks about what tennis means to him. He loves it; you can see this in his face when he talks about it. . . . When he speaks of tennis and his career his eyes get round and pupils dilate and the look in them is one of love. The love is not the love one feels for a job or a lover or any loci of intensity that most of us choose to say we love. It’s the sort of love you see in the eyes of really old people who’ve been happily married for an incredibly long time, or in religious people who've devoted their lives to religious stuff: it’s the sort of love whose measure is what it has cost, what one’s given up for it. Whether there’s “choice” involved is, at a certain point, of no interest . . . since it’s the very surrender of choice and self that informs the love in the first place.”

There we have the best description I’ve read of a pro’s relationship to the game: "It’s the sort of love whose measure is what it has cost, what one’s given up for it."

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A poignant, and perhaps overstated, description. And the thing is, you could easily replace "tennis" with "ministry" or "Jesus" and the paragraph would not only make total sense, but pierce you with insight. I have met some people who have literally given up everything for the sake of Jesus, people like my friend Steve Martin from Sanctuary Ministries in Toronto, Shane Claiborne, who I've had the privilege to hear speak live, and Al Anderson, director of campus ministries for Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship Canada. I have always struggled to describe to others the strange goosebumps-inducing feeling I get whenever I talk to them. Now I have a description. Wallace has provided me with one, and seriously, the moment that immediately popped into my mind when I read that paragraph was not something involving Roger Federer or Rafael Nadal, but this little encounter I had with Al Anderson about 4 years ago.

I had just gone through life-changing moments during two winter retreats led by Inter-Varsity during my second year of undergrad, and shortly after that, Al led an inductive manuscript study at large group. Afterwards, having been shaken to my core, wowed by the fact that God actually answered a specific prayer that I prayed, and desperate to share these crazy experiences with someone who wouldn't laugh in my face, I rushed to Al like the dedicated fanboy I was and spilled the kind of personal testimony that usually make people go, "Um, Sam, are you SURE you want to be telling us this stuff??" In the midst of all that emotional mush, I made a passing mention to how I thought God was filling me with a desire to go tell everyone around me of the saving grace that is in Jesus, but I also said how I felt afraid and wasn't sure how to go about it. And Al, instead of offering me some kind of sugar-coated "advice" or some feel-good "At least you're passionate..." dribble, said (while looking straight at me with those weird twinkling eyes he gets when he's talking about the Kingdom of God), "Well you know what,..[pause], I think that all of us, deep inside, are longing for adventure." And then he just stops, and gives me this wicked grin, as if waiting for me to make the next move in a chess match he knew he'd won.

Of course, I didn't say anything more, instead trying to digest having been hit with a greater challenge when I was looking for some reassurance and some props from the Big Man. (As you may have guessed, I left that conversation perplexed and a little angry, but then I went to the gospels and found that Jesus does this kind of thing to his followers all the time. Figures.) But the point is that when I read Wallace's description of Joyce's face, I couldn't help but see Al's expectant grin and twinkling eyes looking right back at me. Al could give me that challenge because he himself had walked down that path many times in his life, and thus had full confidence in the reward of all that sacrifice and risk. I haven't spoken with Al much since, but when I hear him speak of his own experiences I see that his love for students and campus ministry "is the sort of love whose measure is what it has cost, what one's given up for it." After all, didn't Jesus say "the measure you give is the measure you get?" [Spoiler: Yes. Yes, he did. It's in Mark 4:24]

So in reflecting on this, I think I've gathered a new insight into what it means to follow Jesus (strange how everything I write somehow comes back to that, isn't it?). I wrote on climbing mountains last week, and how spiritually speaking, if we're not climbing we're falling. Or in Jesus-speak, "The measure you give will be the one measured to you -- and even more. But the one who has none, even what he has will be taken away." [Samuel's paraphrase, you can look up the reference yourself. If you've been paying attention you shouldn't have any problem.] But it turns out that choosing to undertake the ordeal of climbing isn't the be all, end all. It turns out the final stage of spiritual journeying is reaching the stage where you look at the Himalayas in the distance and say, "C'mon God, BRING IT!" In order to be a pro tennis player, it's not possible to endure all the pain and fatigue of training without that kind of attitude, and often it is that, not talent or potential, that separates the pros from the amateurs. It's the same on the spiritual plane. The thing that separates the pros (like Steve, Shane and Al) from the amateurs (yeah, that would be me) is that attitude, that love whose measure is what it's cost; and the pros have learned this, absorbed this lesson, and love loving with that kind of love. So they can't wait for the next mountain. And the catch is this: one cannot manufacture this love for oneself, the only way to attain it is to continually be choosing in, no matter how much it costs, until the richness of the return overwhelms the doubt and the pain.

Pro tennis players liken themselves to being addicted to hitting a ball for hours on end in training, even when they are aching and dehydrated, and people like Steve, Shane and Al are exactly like that when it comes to ministry. They are addicted to giving of themselves to God, they can't help it. If you ask them why they have chosen this, they can't really give an answer because "whether there’s “choice” involved is, at a certain point, of no interest . . . since it’s the very surrender of choice and self that informs the love in the first place.”

That just may be my favourite non-Bible quote ever. I mean, it pretty much resolves the whole free will debate in about two lines. Brilliant.

More comparisons between pro tennis and ministry next post, as well as some stuff that's actually about me.

Climb ev'ry mountain! (You know, like from Sound of Music)

Hello everyone,

I hope that you are all doing well and enjoying the cooler temperatures and the fall colours. I have always liked fall very much, and I don't think it has anything to do with the natural beauty of the season. As strange as it sounds, I like the shortening of the days and the arrival of the cold, the departure of the birds, the quieting of the woods and the start of a new school year. There is a tranquility and foreboding in the air during the autumn months that is true for both the wildlife in the woods and the students on campus. In both cases, the joys of summer quickly give way to longer nights, impending hardship and an urgency to prepare for the coming difficulties of winter (weather and something called exams). September is often a time where students are just acclimatizing to a new set of circumstances and at the same time trying to squeeze as much outdoor fun as possible before the snow starts falling.

And as the season progresses the campus and the woods quiet down, there are no longer as many parties in the dormitories, and many animals have begun hibernating or have departed altogether. A thinning out process takes place, in many ways almost a bottleneck effect. The number of species and the amount of activity in the woods decreases dramatically, and by November many students have dropped out of classes because the going was too tough or because they caught swine flu. The seasons in which we live, whether they be natural or made by the our own hand, share this characteristic. The going gets tough, and by late November the days are short and students longingly yearn for the brief reprieve that Christmas brings. This tough "climbing", if you will, and the subsequent difficult road, is also true in ministry (both literally and metaphorically, as you will see below).

*[Please note: The following paragraph is a dramatization of actual events.]

When I was in Vancouver for our internship training, we went on a hike. Up a mountain. In chilling mist and rain. That took nearly 2 hours. I remember being rather smug about my ability to fly up the slope when we started. (They call this trail the Grouse Grind. I wasn't impressed. They named a world renowned tourist attraction after a chicken? Whose idea was that?) But after 30 minutes on the trail, already huffing and puffing and totally looking like the unfit heap of skin and bones I was, I looked up and to my horror saw a sign nailed to the nearest tree that told me I had just reached the one quarter mark of the Grind. That's right, the ONE QUARTER mark. There was also a sign a few steps ahead that told me that the trail only got steeper and more dangerous further up, and that if I wanted to turn back, well, I would have to do so right there and then. It was the point of no return. I considered giving up and turning back, before heavier rains made the going even more treacherous, but at that moment a frail elderly man wearing only a pair of shorts stormed past me as if he were climbing the Stairway to Heaven. (metaphorically speaking, he was, but I don't think he got it. More on that later.) While I stood there watching my life's supply of manliness evaporate into the rainforest, I decided that I simply wasn't going to wimp out while someone who could have been my grandpa made it to the summit. No longer caring whether I was going to catch pneumonia, I took off my jacket, stuffed it in my pack, and proceeded to take one painful step after painful step. Along the way, a number of more experienced hikers encouraged me by pointing out that the first quarter is always the toughest, and told me to just keep walking while I stood by the side of the trail trying to catch my breath. While I debated whether or not to stake my life on a definition of "easy" provided by the resident Iron Men and Women, I realized to my astonishment that it actually WAS getting easier. My muscles and joints had acclimatized to the strain of climbing, and I found the energy to encourage some of my fellow interns as we neared the summit. I even found a moment or two to admire and enjoy the surrounding beauty, because for all the ache in my body, the rainforest was truly a beautiful place.

What I didn't realize when we descended the mountain together (by machine this time) was that I was embarking on another climb, one whose challenges would in many ways be much greater than the ordeal I had just suffered, but with a reward that would be all the more worthwhile. Inter-Varsity (like Jesus) likes teaching through parables, and I now see that following Jesus is like climbing a mountain (hopefully the view is better from the top), which is precisely what I was being taught during that week of training. There will be a point where one just reaches a barrier, a barrier where one either has to risk life and limb to continue the pursuit of the prize, or ebb away in disappointment. In the journey of my internship I am not sure where I am, but what I do know is that the climb up Grouse Mountain has showed me that I need not fear being tested, and that a tough arduous journey can be an arena for personal introspection, growth, courage, perseverance and beauty.

As I near the end of my first month in Hamilton, I find myself a little weary but tempered with a desire to pursue. Perhaps I am speaking a little too soon, but I feel my spiritual muscles have finally re-acclimatized to the emotional and mental rigours of ministry, and I am ready to have them put to the test. My mind has been renewed and challenged in new and creative ways through manuscript study this past week, and I can sense that God is creating a new awareness in me and a fresh way of relating and living through His Word. I have been filled with a love for the students here at the Inter-Varsity group and a longing to see Jesus transform their lives with His love, a love that I am also experiencing and understanding in deeper and more profound ways.

It is customary for missionaries to publish a list of prayer requests (and it's about time I published one!), but I would like to take a detour from tradition and instead write to my friends, family and donors of how their investment in me has been used by God already. As I attested to in my last post, I am at peace with where I am, my peers and mentors and the students to whom I will give of myself. Your investment, both monetary, relational and spiritual, has brought me to this place, this mountain that I will climb, and gladly climb I will.

That said, please pray for the following people:

• Please pray for the student leadership team here at McMaster. Pray that as they climb their mountains this year they may be given the courage to persevere. Please pray for God's wisdom and guidance for our staff and intern team; that we may be shown how to love, care, and walk with them through their journey as Jesus does. And most importantly, pray that this year may be a year where they may come to know more fully God's love made incarnate in His Son Jesus
• Please pray for our house and all my housemates: Kalinda, Melody, Christine and Justin. Pray especially for my friend Justin as he has just re-injured his knee, and it looks like it will require surgery. It has been a frustrating time, but also a time where God's providing hand has been clearly revealed to all of us. Please pray that he would experience Jesus walking with him through the healing process and through the difficulty of having his mobility (and ministry!) compromised.
• Please pray for the students of McMaster University, obviously. I have grown attached to them and I see a lot of potential in those whom I have gotten to know. Please pray for courage and faithfulness on the part of us interns, the staff, and the student leaders to faithfully proclaim the Kingdom

Thanks for reading everyone. I hope you enjoyed it and I hope it encourages on your own mountaineering journeys. I certainly enjoyed writing it and sharing with you some of my thoughts. More on climbing mountains next week. Have a great (Canuck) thanksgiving!