- Being in Eastern Ontario I had a chance to spend some significant time with my dad. He is by far the most influential male in my life both for good and for challenge. He is a man of great work ethic, wise insight, and deep convictions. These are the things I highly respect. Like any father, my dad also has his flaws, but this trip allowed me to see more clearly the grace God has extended to me through my father. Thanks dad. I love you.
- I also had a chance to reconnect with boyhood friends. We revisited old stories of elementary school antics, travel hockey team dynamics, and places where we should have either died or at least been in big big trouble. What amazes me is to see how God is working in their lives in significant and beautiful ways even if they might not always see it. To teach Colton Staples the "Superman Prayer" before dinner on Thursday night was better than anything I might watch on Sportscenter.
- Growing up, we went to Kemptville Christian Reformed Church, which was 30 miles from our house. We went to Church twice on Sunday, attended every Sunday School class, went to every Cadet meeting, and were there to help or be helped anytime the Church needed it. Driving that familiar and yet untravelled road of 28 years, I was stunned by my parents commitment to Church and to raising their children in a Christian community. I wonder if I would make the same sacrifices or live with the same discipline if I had to drive 40 minutes one way to Church. To be honest, I doubt it. My mom and dad did it twice every week for 12 years living out the baptismal vows they had made. As their child, I'm proud of them for that. I know God is as well.
- Later in the week, I visited my old basketball coach Ken Vander Zwaag. Ken has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer that has now moved to his lungs. This past Tuesday he started a new chemotherapy that will ravage his body. Still he had time for me, 2 hours to be exact. 2 hours of catching up, of reliving glory days, of being reminded of why he was always my favorite teacher. When I asked him about the cancer his answer was simple: "I'm not mad and I'm not going to feel sorry for myself. There's no time for that. This is God's plan for me. I'm hoping for a miracle, who wouldn't, but I'm ready to go. I just don't want to leave my family any time soon." One last lesson from a teacher and coach who has influenced so many. Thanks Coach, you have my admiration and respect to the end . . . which will become the beginning.
- On Saturday morning I sat down for breakfast with a high school buddy, Daren Roorda, aka: the Sheik. Daren is now the pastor of the Church we attended when we moved to Kitchener. It's the same Church he grew up in. He is the pastor to his parents, his siblings and to all the extended family. He bubbles over with a passion for the gospel and a genuine love for people. When I asked him what his greatest joy in ministry was he said "When people get it. When the light goes on. When grace suddenly makes sense, or a the freedom of the cross really unties the chains, or the truth of everlasting life takes root. There's nothing cooler than that." When I asked him what he disliked the most he said "That's easy. The people who think they get it and don't. The people who should know better and still say or do the same stupid stuff. That drives me nuts." Daren is a well thought out, intelligent and passionate pastor. It was life-giving to share life with him for a couple of hours. Thanks Sheik!
- I drove home with a deep sense of reflection. From my birth at Blodget hospital, to my baptism at Eastern Avenue Christian Reformed Church, to my twelve years in Smiths Falls, to the five years in Kitchener, to Calvin College, to Grandville and Olivet Reformed Church and Young Life, to Western Theological Seminary to Zeeland Michigan God has displayed his faithfulness in every place my life has travelled.
- But there were also faces . . . people. The faces of my parents who have loved me and walked with me and let me walk with them no matter the landscape. The faces of my siblings and their families. A brother and sister who I deeply admire and respect. Faces of friends; friends from elementary school, high school, college, seminary, and now Zeeland. Amazingly I still keep in contact with most of them. Faces of influential people, people like Marvin Zuidema my college soccer coach, John Ornee my first boss and the person who taught me gentleness and grace in relationships, Bill Brownson and Tim Brown who taught me the importance of scholarship and prayer in ministry, I could go on and on . . .
- And maybe that's the point of all this . . . I could go on and on. By taking the road trip through a lifetime I've been reminded that God is at work in every place and in every person and with that reminder I look forward to the future He has planned.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
A Jagged Map of Intention
For the past two weeks I have been criss crossing the map of my life . . . visiting the places and the people God has used as blessings of His faithfulness. Fredrick Buechner calls this "visiting the room called Remember." I call it the "road trip through a lifetime." Here are some of the highlights:
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Tully Mars
I feel a little like Tully Mars. I think we all do.
Tully Mars is a fictional character created by song writer and author Jimmy Buffett in his book A Salty Piece of Land. He is a wanderer doing what wanderers do . . . trying to find their purpose and destiny in life. When you are introduced to Tully you find out he has been a cowboy in Wyoming, a deck hand on a Shrimp Boat, a fly-fishing guide across the flats of the Caribbean, a navigator on a schooner, and a contractor given the responsibility of revamping a old worn out lighthouse. Basically, a jack of all trades but a master of none.
Tully's movements and challenge of staying in any one place for any time are fueled by his search for the meaning of his life. At one point Johnny Red Dust, a friend and confidant of his now deceased father, gives Tully some direction for his search. I love what he says.
"Tully, there are no words to the song of the ocean, but the message is and always has been simple: not to forget where we came from. The melody is locked in the water that composes much of what we are. Most humans tend to ignore the song, but not all. You are one of the lucky ones who hold the melody in your heart."
I especially love what he says when you substitute your name for Tully's and the words "the ocean" for "baptism." Go ahead, try it. Your name for Tully's. The words "the ocean" for "baptism."
There are no words but there is a message and melody in the sacrament of baptism.
The message is to not to forget where we came from. We are covenant children of God who have Divine promises sealed into the very fabric of our being. God's signature written on our foreheads in the name of Father, Son and Holy Spirit . . . put there when most of us were only days old. Promises cemented into our lives as the light to follow when things get dark and we're not sure who we are or where we are going. I need to remember that . . . and so do you.
But there is also a melody . . . a sweet sweet song being sung that I need to listen to more clearly. It is the splash of water drops moving from the baptismal font to a young child's forehead on the hand of the Church. It is the notes of a congregation's voice as they affirm God's activity in a teenager who is making profession of faith. It is a man or a woman eating the bread and drinking from the cup as a reminder of God's mercy and forgiveness. It is hearing of God's love in a manger for the one millionth time but experiencing it as fresh as the first day we heard it. It is Advent and Christmas and the reminder of what God has done and what God will do. It is Lent, Good Friday, Black Saturday and Resurrection Sunday, the gospel relived in all its dynamic life-giving fullness. It is the quiet sound of pages ruffling as a bible is opened and God's passion for people is discovered. It is the off key ruckus of a praise song being sung in traffic. It is a silent prayer in a restaurant. It is a bed side visit in a hospital. It is loving a neighbor or co-worker even though they are not a Christian. This is the full melody of baptism being sung in all its silence.
The end of the movie August Rush finishes with the words "The music is all around us, all we have to do is listen." What I am discovering as I journey through Sabbatical is that I need to listen more for the message and melody of baptism being lived out every day.
I invite you to join me.
Tully Mars is a fictional character created by song writer and author Jimmy Buffett in his book A Salty Piece of Land. He is a wanderer doing what wanderers do . . . trying to find their purpose and destiny in life. When you are introduced to Tully you find out he has been a cowboy in Wyoming, a deck hand on a Shrimp Boat, a fly-fishing guide across the flats of the Caribbean, a navigator on a schooner, and a contractor given the responsibility of revamping a old worn out lighthouse. Basically, a jack of all trades but a master of none.
Tully's movements and challenge of staying in any one place for any time are fueled by his search for the meaning of his life. At one point Johnny Red Dust, a friend and confidant of his now deceased father, gives Tully some direction for his search. I love what he says.
"Tully, there are no words to the song of the ocean, but the message is and always has been simple: not to forget where we came from. The melody is locked in the water that composes much of what we are. Most humans tend to ignore the song, but not all. You are one of the lucky ones who hold the melody in your heart."
I especially love what he says when you substitute your name for Tully's and the words "the ocean" for "baptism." Go ahead, try it. Your name for Tully's. The words "the ocean" for "baptism."
There are no words but there is a message and melody in the sacrament of baptism.
The message is to not to forget where we came from. We are covenant children of God who have Divine promises sealed into the very fabric of our being. God's signature written on our foreheads in the name of Father, Son and Holy Spirit . . . put there when most of us were only days old. Promises cemented into our lives as the light to follow when things get dark and we're not sure who we are or where we are going. I need to remember that . . . and so do you.
But there is also a melody . . . a sweet sweet song being sung that I need to listen to more clearly. It is the splash of water drops moving from the baptismal font to a young child's forehead on the hand of the Church. It is the notes of a congregation's voice as they affirm God's activity in a teenager who is making profession of faith. It is a man or a woman eating the bread and drinking from the cup as a reminder of God's mercy and forgiveness. It is hearing of God's love in a manger for the one millionth time but experiencing it as fresh as the first day we heard it. It is Advent and Christmas and the reminder of what God has done and what God will do. It is Lent, Good Friday, Black Saturday and Resurrection Sunday, the gospel relived in all its dynamic life-giving fullness. It is the quiet sound of pages ruffling as a bible is opened and God's passion for people is discovered. It is the off key ruckus of a praise song being sung in traffic. It is a silent prayer in a restaurant. It is a bed side visit in a hospital. It is loving a neighbor or co-worker even though they are not a Christian. This is the full melody of baptism being sung in all its silence.
The end of the movie August Rush finishes with the words "The music is all around us, all we have to do is listen." What I am discovering as I journey through Sabbatical is that I need to listen more for the message and melody of baptism being lived out every day.
I invite you to join me.
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