An Unfair Assessment ... maybe

I've been enjoying my visit to Alberta thus far, detours and all :) Some golf, some getting my thumb slammed in the van door, a lot of fresh raspberries and ice-cream courtesy of mom's and grandpa's raspberry bushes, an old deck removal at the farm, some soccer, and some good time with family and friends. Aaah. A good break.

On my way here I travelled on a Sunday. As I passed through a small town on the outskirts of Calgary I saw that there were a few churches having services as I drove. Being a youth pastor I don't have a lot of opportunities to visit other churches, so since I was making good time I decided to stop in and, mostly out of curiosity, see another church gathering in progress.

The church parking lot was packed. There was a big banner on the wall advertising .. something, I don't remember. It was a fairly new looking building, and I gathered I was walking into a church building that was fairly well-off. Now let me fill you in that I had spent the previous night sleeping on a lawn with some friends, including the infamous Clinton Horsman - Salmon Arm's greatest treasure :) And I woke up to start driving at around 4:30am. And I was wearing the clothes I had slept in. And I had a couple days' growth on my face. And my hair was spewing out the sides of my floppy ball cap. I was in top form for Sunday morning church. Welp, I figured I suppose I will find out what it is like for somebody who isn't wrapped up in church culture to walk into a gathering, as is. Cool.

When I got there the music was being played on an intercom in the lobby. The doors to the gathering area were shut so I pulled one of the doors open. An usher had to step aside as I opened the door to make my way in. I did the head-nod and half smile courtesy, "hello" to him. He returned the gesture. He had a handful of bulletins and I was going to ask for one, but he had turned his attention back to the music team on stage. I found a spot near the doors and leaned against the wall. There were a lot of people there, probably a couple hundred in the bottom area, and I couldnt see if the balcony was full or not. A worship band playing "My Savior's Love" led the people in song. I saw people with their heads bowed, some people had their hands lifted in the air. Most people kind of stood there and sang the words. I looked for an obvious place to sit, but there wasn't an end-seat available. I didn't want to force my way into an aisle. The ushers didn't ask me if I needed any help. I thought that would have been a good thing, as they didn't know who I was and I did feel a little conspicuous standing at the back alone. I took in about 15 minutes; the pastor gave a few announcements and a girl sang really beautifully the Celine Dion italian song - "the prayer", i think it's called.

When I walked back out to my car I noticed another church right across the street that was a real contrast to the first one. There were a lot less cars and an older building. "Alright, I'll take a couple minutes here too," I thought. This place definitely had a smaller, family feel. There was probably about 30 people there. A worship team again was leading a song and the people were belting out the words, and I could tell they were super-engaged in the words of the song, "To The Ends Of The Earth". ("Jesus I believe in You and I would go to the Ends of the Earth.") There was a lady lying on the floor in the aisle on her back. The band stopped and the pastor gave some announcements, the band joked with him, people helped collect the offering. The sound guy gave me the head-nod and less-than-half-smile. The lady on the floor kind of came and stood a few feet away from me, not making eye-contact and had a strange smile on her face. A young guy walked past me to the bathroom and gave a smile. And they too, kept going about the service.

It's not really fair to judge a couple churches on less than 15 minutes in their gathering. I didn't make an effort to talk to anyone. I came half-way through. I left before it ended. I had no intentions of ever coming back. They didn't have a lot of chance to make me feel like I could belong there. But it really has made me think about what it's like to walk in to a worship gathering as a stranger. It's pretty hard. And I'm a pastor! It makes me think about the job I do to make people feel they can belong in our church family. It makes me wonder if all a church really has is about a 15 minute window to create an atmosphere of belonging before someone decides in their head that they don't.

cool interview

Check out this video clip interview with Brad Pitt. It's pretty inspiring, especially the part at the end.

Chain Wallet?

I had to beg people for money the other day. Strangers. And I was astonished at the response I got.

The story is mostly embarassing to me because it involves my famous forgetfulness and my wallet once again. I lost my wallet at Christmas the day before I was to fly to visit family in Alberta. Big hassle. (And its never fun re-telling over and over the story of your own blunder.) Well, I did it again - sort of.

I left Abbotsford this past weekend in my car to again come and visit family in Alberta. I got a decent start and was making some good time. It was a beautiful drive over the Coquihalla as I drove across the mountains. My plan was to go north through Jasper and on to Edmonton via the Yellowhead highway. A good distance into the trip my stomach dropped and my hands tightened on the wheel. I didn't have my wallet!!!! I left it at home. I couldn't pay for gas. I had no driver's license. No credit card. No bank card. Only a few bucks of cash. It's funny how you can get feelings of anger, despair, and laughter all at the same time. So, I had to turn around and head back to Abbotsford. But I figured I should top up my tank with gas to make sure I didn't run out of gas on the way - I had under half a tank. I spent the last remaining dollars on gas and got on my way again. Still trying to decide whether I should laugh out loud or scream and throw a big rock at a tree, I headed out. Then my stomach dropped again. The toll booth!!!!! I didn't have ten bucks to pay! The screaming option seemed a little bit more attractive at that point. So I pulled in to a rest stop and tourist shop to decide what I should do. As I leaned on my Malibu in my pool of self-loathing over my scatter-brained-ness, the only option was all around me. People. Tourists with money to burn. Welp, I shrugged, better just get to it. There was an older gentleman who was leaning against his car next to mine. I thought in general people would laugh at me and, after hearing my story, chuckle and say, "Okay buddy, here you go. You do need some help!" I approached this man and said, "Hi there." We exchanged pleasantries. I kind of laughed and said, "You know, I could use some help today." He immediately looked away and said, "You're talking to the wrong guy" and kept staring away. He didn't even know what I needed!!!! I was nothing short of stunned. I mumbled something about wondering how he knew he couldn't help me and walked away. Other reactions included very suspicious stares and "If it's money you need, I'm not helping you." A couple gracious people gave me spare change. Until I came to one lady. I asked her for five bucks and told her pieces of my morning's wallet-less adventure. She didn't flinch. She said, "Yeah I'll give you 5 bucks!" and reached into her pocket with a smile. I thanked her and told her she was very kind. She responded by saying, "I believe in karma! What goes around comes around." I smiled and thanked her again.

I don't think it bothered me or hurt that people didn't want to give me money. I can understand that. But what struck a painful blow was when people chose not to hear me, or listen to where I was at. They decided ahead of time that they would not lend a hand to help someone they did not know. That was kind of sad and I hope I will be someone who always listens before deciding if I am able to help someone out or not. There's something life-giving in hearing and empathizing with story. It seems to connect us as humans.

But I am now safely in Alberta with my wallet. Maybe I need to buy a chain-wallet.

Rock and roll baby

Being a rock star is great. In case you were wondering what it is like, well, it is fabulous. I know when you look at a rock star like me you probably think, "yeah that's all well and good, but I wouldn't want all the attention and pedestal-pushing - it just seems shallow and tiring". And it can be. And it is. But at the end of the day, you hang up your in-ear monitors and tight black band-T shirts knowing that you wouldn't change a thing.

I just got back from a sweet touring gig. Life on the road isn't easy, but once it gets into your blood, there's no turning back. The road just calls your name.

Yup, Nanoose Bay Pre-teen camp was kicking this year. Those kids couldn't get enough. The screaming, the awe-struck stares, the requests for "I wanna go up, up up" - the glory of it all was beautiful. Though our youth band didn't sign any Bibles this year, we still felt the adulation of the crowds through questions like, "Do you guys do concerts and make lots of money?" "Oh yeah", we answered them. "Oh yeah."

But seriously .... at camp this week the comparison between my own little story of my life and the eternal and all-encompassing story of God stared me in the face. I was reading through a book called "i am not, but I know I AM" by Louie Giglio. Here's a quote:

When you get right down to it, trading in the little story of me is not really all that big of a sacrifice at all. Who wouldn't want to abandon a script you could fit on the pointed end of a pin for a chance to get in on the glorious epic that is so enduring that its screening will require all of eternity ... To die to self is to gain on an unfathomable scale - a daily funeral that is nothing more than the doorway to a life filled with the matchless wonder of all that He is.

Passionate about ... nothing

Crescent Park is located right near Crescent beach in Whiterock BC, right on the ocean. I hadn't been there before until tonight when myself and some other friends piled into the Malibu (I own a large, golden, Chevrolet sedan - you may have noticed others like it around, probably parked at a senior's legion hall, or perhaps near a local lawn bowling club)and headed for the park for a little BBQ action. By the time we got from Abbotsford to Whiterock to pick up Deanna and Baker, and then got to the park it was after 8pm. Needless to say we were all hungry. I think if it wasn't for the pack of .88 cent licorice Psegga brought from Wal-Mart, we would have resorted to cannibalism and eaten Laura. Or Lisa. Whoever was weaker or more easily distracted.

But we ate and frolicked and had a merry time. By the time the sun set, we were just about ready to go. We noticed the park ranger locking up the public washrooms and we decided we should get on our way. We said "hello" to him as we passed by and he said "hello" back. Friendly chap. To our dismay, when we arrived at the parking lot to leave, the gate was locked. And our friendly neighborhood park ranger had motored off in his little speedy golf cart. What was he thinking??? It was almost 11pm and he locked us in, said "hello" and drove away! What kind of black-hearted evil finds joy in locking people into the park and leaving them to fend of the local drunken teenagers?

Luckily Deanna's friend knew where the Ranger lived ... so D and I walked across the park, jumped over the locked fences marked, "No Trespassing - Private Property" and rang the doorbell. He was choked. But we didn't care. We were going home. After arriving back at the gate, the others told us of all the drunk high school students who had been wandering out of the park. Just as they were, a 16ish girl teetered in our direction. She was pretty with brown hair and drunk as a skunk. She had lost her friends. And she had lost her cellphone. She got me to dial it, hoping to hear her Stairway To Heaven ring-tone from wherever it landed in the park. Right. She asked for a ride to her friends and we obliged graciously. Of course we wouldn't let this girl wander home in the dark. We all decided that she was the reason we had gotten locked in the park.

As we drove away we saw more teenagers wandering home barely able to stand up. Tens and twenties of them. I was brought back to my highschool years of hanging out in public parks, being loud, and occasionally getting into some trouble. But at home I was always reminded of what was true, what really mattered. That life is a precious gift from God, and that I was precious to God and to others. I doubt that many of those teenagers have a home like to go to. Too many people are living their lives passionate about nothing.

blegos anonymous

I have chosen to make blogspot my home for all my blogging. Yes all of it ;) And that's saying something. I'm a fan of the "everybody can comment" business here at blogger. So if you've been directed here from Xanga, hi! boo freakin ya.

One thing I like doing is putting two words together to make one word. Tonight I was chatting with Jer and this whole topic of the blog-world came up. He is a bit over the top with the blogging. I would even say he's obsessed. He sometimes tries to persuade others to begin blogging in sneaky, underhanded ways. But I'm not falling for it...

Anyway, somehow the conversation went in the direction of the amount of comments posted on each blog entry. I think Jer was telling me that he had 1 and a half bazillion posts on one of his blogspot entries. I told him he needed to keep his blog-ego in check. And so the creation of the word, "blego" came into being. I don't think Jer's blego has run amuck although I'm going to be keeping my eye on it ....

But maybe its not so important what other people notice or acknowledge about what I think or say. It's probably more important that I just say and do things out of the right mind and heart motivation. I don't think significance comes through accolades. I've been trying to figure out what Jesus meant when he said that you have to die in order to really live. This might be a piece of that puzzle.