Fatherhood.

I had the profound sensation this past weekend that my life had forever changed.

It was 5.30am on Saturday morning. Over the baby monitor I could hear Levi stirring, his sighs and yawns cutting through the haze of my sleep with annoying effectiveness. As I lay awake, eyes still shut so as to hide the unnatural darkness of early winter mornings, I debated whether I was going to leave the warm cocoon of our comforter  (my wife likes sleeping with the window open so our room is consistent with whatever the forecasted low of that night is supposed to be) and collect the little boy who had woken much too early for anyone’s liking. His sighs soon turned to the baby babble inherent in the first attempts of the articulation of language, and I knew it was only a matter of time before those adorable sounds would soon transform into what I can only describe as a sort of variation of high-pitched squeals.

By this time Megan had started to stir (I’m never quite sure if she doesn’t hear him at first or if she has a greater capacity to selectively allow certain sounds to penetrate her ear drums) and there was likely some ensuing discussion as to who would get the kid and who would start making his breakfast. Understandably details are hard to recall as my level of consciousness was still minimal; however, I do know that  I was somehow elected to retrieve the young charge from his undoubtedly perceived prison, and carry him from his room, marking the beginning of a new day.

In the following few moments I have a vague recollection of asking Megan to feed him so that I could make a pot of coffee (my morning ritual). While waiting for the sounds of percolation to cease I stared at the disaster of a kitchen in which I stood and realized that since Megan is now back at work, it was doubtful that I would benefit any longer from her attempts to keep order in our house. So, I dutifully began to organize dishes and fill the sink with warm, soapy water. The coffee maker beeped, indicating its finished process, and between scrubbing various pots and pans, and sneaking sips of Saltspring Island dark roast it suddenly hit me…

At 5.50am on Saturday morning, as I attempted to elicit some personal pleasure by hurriedly sipping coffee amidst a sink-full of dirty dishes, I realized that the birth of our son had resulted in a change of life from which I could never return (or at least not until he, and any other possible siblings, had grown and left the house!), where my needs would always be secondary to that of my son’s, where my desires would be overridden by the drive to care for, and nurture him, where I would have to learn patience, sacrifice, and self-control, where all my efforts could possibly go unrecognized…

And I realized I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

A History of Heretics

It has been a long time since I’ve done this. In some ways too long. Over the past year I have wrestled with the existence of my blog, coinciding with the existence of a facebook account. In essence I was questioning whether either existed as simply a means to fulfill the narcissistic yearnings of one engaged in different aspects of social media. I have recently taken solace in the fact that only one or two people have ever read this blog with any intentionality, and as such I couldn’t possibly be doing this simply out of the pursuit for admiration. More seriously, as I have once again resumed studying, I feel the need to be able to download some of what is floating around in my head, in the hopes that my thoughts might become somewhat more intelligible.

Recently in my studies of the history of Christianity, I have been struck by the centrality and importance of the figures who stood in opposition to the established church and were subsequently labelled heretics. Their importance is perhaps most evident in their roles in shaping the content of the reform that was to come. The Reformation looms large as one of the most pivotal moments in the history of the church, forever changing the landscape of Western Christianity, and whose after effects are still being felt even today. Yet it is interesting to note, even amongst denominations that owe their existence to such “heretics”, a fear of questioning.

I would argue the existence of such a fear is often met with simple repression, or a type of forced ignorance. And at times it seems as though there exists an ethos in which uncertainty is not accepted nor tolerated. Intellectual exploration of anything other than what is prescribed is also frowned upon and even deemed to be a dangerous pursuit.

I can’t help but look back at these heretical figures (or once heretical figures) and wonder at their conviction and courage. I understand their contexts differ significantly from our own, but it seems prudent that in light of what we know of history we might show a little grace to those who hold a belief different than out own, or whose ideas fall outside our understanding of orthodoxy. Only in discussion with them can we truly come to any understanding of their perspective, and where it might meet or diverge from our own. Simply reacting in opposition does little for anyone. Let’s have some informed discussion and facilitate an ethos in which it is safe for both questions and uncertainty. Maybe we can escape the need for any further reformations.

Barn Sessions 2010.

A tradition of sorts has emerged over the last few years that sees several of us convening at an old barn in the weeks leading up to Christmas. We fight the cold by stuffing blankets in door cracks and by running up the electricity bill with portable heaters. After a few weeks we come away with some music of Christmas orientation. The group seems to expand by a few participants each year, and as such, so do the genres and style of music. It’s a fantastic time of cooperative creativity.

You can listen to the latest recordings by clicking here.

School and the Realization of Many Things Not the Least of Which Appears to be How Little I Know.

As noted in an earlier post I am now working on my Master’s Degree. This has resulted in two three things:

1) I spend a lot of time reading. I mean A LOT. As I had been told on numerous occassions, this ain’t no undergrad, and I think (it’s ironic that I am writing this in the midst of my first reading break) I am just beginning to realize the extent of that statement. Today was about six hours. Tomorrow will be similar, but I do have small summaries to type, which should help bring a little more diversity to my day.

2) I am a student again. This may seem ridiculous to some, but I have to note that it subtely changes one’s perception of self (at least in my case). Last year I woke up each morning, showered, shaved, and dressed in nice slacks and a good button-up shirt. Now, I wake up each morning (earlier I might add), may or may not shower, likely won’t shave, and dress in jeans, t-shirt, and sweater. On a good day I will wear a plaid shirt in lieu of the t-shirt. I no longer feel 26…come to think of it I probably no longer look 26! But hey, when travelling on transit, sitting in lectures, and studying (reading) in the library for hours on end, one might as well be comfortable.

Part of being a student also means that I no longer receive a paycheque. Once again, change in perception of self (note the lack of the term “subtle” in this context). We sold our 2nd vehicle. Enough said.

3) I have once again come to realize how much there is for me to learn, and how little I pursued that when I was out of the school context. I suppose on one hand I could view it as a well-deserved break; but on the other it just seems like apathy to me. I’m struck that even having come through a 4-year degree there is still much I do not know or understand. There are snowdrifts of ideas or thoughts in my head that I have glanced at, but have not been intentional about plunging into.

Having started studies again, I am also coming to a place where I am having to struggle to reconcile previously held beliefs to newly acquired information. I seem to be wrestling with this today more so than usual. Or maybe I am simply coming to the realization that I am doing so. And maybe it’s not even reconciling, maybe it’s re-analyzing, re-questioning…re-imagining? Previous apparent truths are no longer as clear cut, like when you run the blur tool over distinct lines in a photo. That picture, which once depicted a discernable event, setting, or individual, is now open to new interpretation, new understanding, new perspective.

New learning.

 

In Anticipation

high above the earth
angels read their verse
the fields were astir
at the news of the birth
angels read their verse

shining through the night
streams of glit’ring white
shone with a strength
that no darkness could break
streams of glit’ring white

hallelujah hallelujah
the Lord has come to us
hallelujah
the Lord has come to us

as sages bowed their heads
the babe lay in his bed
the king of all earth
amongst the hay and the dirt
the babe lay in his bed

hallelujah hallelujah
the lord has come to us
hallelujah hallelujah
the lord has come to us
hallelujah
the lord has come

hallelujah hallelujah
hallelujah
the lord has come to us

Library.

It’s 10.39am. I’m sitting in the Allison Library at Regent College, having just finished a Hebrew grammar test, streaming Sufjan’s new album, “Age of Adz”.

Did you “Adz” is pronounced “odds”. Huh.

I needed a reprieve from my Old Testament reading so I decided to visit this largely abandoned blog to put some stuff into type. It’s been quite the year for Megan and I: new church, new(more) school, new baby(soon). Most often I can be found in a mental haze trying to comprehend the exact implications of each of these. That sounds less than positive. Let me restate. Life is exciting right now. There is so much that is unknown. I am having trouble envisioning what it will all look like (not necessarily a bad thing).

The baby is due December 14th. This is right in the middle of exams, which will potentially make life even more interesting for a few weeks. It could also be late…like Christmas Eve. My wife would kill me for saying that.

Speaking of Christmas, and in keeping with what has emerged as somewhat of a tradition, there will be some new recordings. One song is written already. It’s more a matter of finding time to get into the studio for a few days.

Suisse…

The photograph at the top of this page is of the Swiss Alps, taken from the town of Montreux on Lake Geneva, in Switzerland. I spent 6 weeks there, two years ago, as part of an optional semester abroad for my degree.

My days at L’Abri were shared with 28 other students. Most of these were from the US, but we also had representatives from New Zealand, Australia, and South Africa. Each day we would spend half the time studying, and the other half working. Duties included grounds crew, cooking, cleaning chalets, and laundry. Study times were spent quietly in the library, with a fantastic view of the towering Alps and lots of tea.

Just so you know what I’m talking about….

It was a time of much reflection, and a time to enjoy creation. Quiet walks during sunsets, hikes in knee-deep snow, hot cups of tea on the balcony, reading Wallis, Dillard, and Dostoyevski, and of course, late-night whiskey while listening to and dissecting the music of Derek Webb. It was six weeks of my life that I will have a very hard time forgetting.

24.04.10

This is a guilt post.

When I have nothing to say I often feel as though I have not been doing enough thinking. Or perhaps better said, I have not been doing enough intentional thinking. I will often post articles or editorials that inevitably force me to question and reflect, but will rarely add any opinion of my own other than some form of surface level agreement or disagreement.

Lazy? Maybe.

It seems to me that my brain is in a state of constant thought, or so it feels. However the line of thinking is scattered and in a state of flux. I will begin down one road only to come to the intersect and choose to turn left or right. Once a few steps down that lane I am once again faced with the fleeting decision to carry on or to detour. Inevitably I choose the latter. For me to carry on down one path for any significant distance, or amount of time, takes a force of will on my part. Often I will detour for hours or days only to return to the same road on which I had started and will eventually make my way farther along than before. It’s a process.

Writing helps.

When I was in college I had a prof who would call us students “Sesame Street Kids” when we failed to pay attention to his lectures. Part of me resented that label. I have good memories of waking up early to watch Sesame Street, often accompanied by my father who’s job it was to take care of the early risers (there are 4 of us boys). The other half of me saw the truth in that even from an early age we are bombarded with constantly changing stimuli. We are trained to quickly move from item to item, idea to idea, without really spending time struggling with the intricacies of each.

There goes my unadulterated view of children’s programming from the 80′s and early 90′s.

It seems as though we intentionally surround ourselves with a lot of distractions. I can understand that. I know what it feels like to come home from work or school and just want to sit in front of the TV and think about absolutely nothing…to not worry about dinner, or what assignment needs to be finished, or about relationships, family, life, God…

The pace of life at which we choose to operate seems, at times, contradictory to what God would actually have us do. Isn’t it funny that the vast majority of Christians struggle to find time for God? Should that even be a question?…do we have time for God?

Our compartmentalized view of life and faith certainly doesn’t help.

Isn’t God supposed to be in and around all that we do? Even our very existence is dependant on him, and yet we live our lives as if he were not really a part of it. That is of course except for the 30min we scheduled for him at the end of the day.

Should not our every action, decision, and thought be infused with prayer, a sense of his presence, consideration of his will, and recognition of his sovereignty?

What can we do to make this more of a reality in our lives?

And we’re done!

For those that don’t know, I have been working at a Middle School with my wife for the past 6/7 months. Megan has worked there for several years, while this has been my first exposure to a paid position at an educational institution. I have had the privilege of working with several students and while at times my patience has been tested, it has also been a rewarding experience. Rewarding, but exhausting!

Yesterday was our last day of school before a two week spring break! The last week has felt exceptionally long as each of us on staff counted down the days and even hours before we could escape for a few weeks of rest and recuperation.

So here I am, moderately early on a Saturday morning, drinking freshly brewed coffee, watching the morning news and thinking about the possibilities the next two weeks hold. I already have a surfing trip planned and Megan and I will try to make it over to the island for a few days. Oh, we also have a hockey game to go to next week. Other than that, we plan to relax, enjoy sleeping in, and hopefully be intentional with the time that we have.

Oh gosh, Kristi Gordon just said on air, “There’s lots to do in Pemberton…and farming I suppose..”

A New Day?

I almost hesitate to write anything further about the Olympics as it seems to have become over-discussed and likely most people are still trying to recover from their first week of Olympic-less television. It’s been an interesting two weeks to say the least. Did you know there is counselling available to the Olympic volunteers who may be struggling with post-games depression?

As one event which captures the attention of the BC residents ends, so another begins! The illustrious provincial budget has been released and includes some rather startling numbers. (Can I call the budget an event?).

The province of British Columbia is currently running a $2.8 billion defecit. Now, it’s true that many would not have foreseen such an economic downturn, and government ministers actually acknowledge the fact that many BC taxpayers are struggling because of it. (Colin Hansen is quoted as saying, “Too many people across B.C. are still feeling the effects of the downturn. Too many families are still struggling…”).

British Columbia has the highest rate of child poverty in Canada. No matter how you crunch the numbers, that is simply unacceptable. This budget will only include a 1.2% increase in funding for the Ministry of Children and Family Development (and no further increase for the next two years).

Furthermore, the Ministry of Housing and Social Development will receive only a 1.9% increase this year, and face actual cuts over the following two years. All the while, the streets of the downtown eastside are home to over 2000 people.

We are continually promised that the games will benefit everyone. Yet in order to believe that, one must also firmly believe in the “trickle-down effect theory”. This is a process, we are told, through which savings are passed onto the consumer as the big corporations make economic gain. I hope my skepticism rings clear here. The success of this “trickle-down” process is made even more dubious upon the recognition that those with the most need are not “customers” simply because they can’t even afford to be.