Vacation: Part One

I may post again before the weekend is out but this coming week I'm officially on vacation. So this is just a brief note before a potential week-long absence. If we spend this week's vacation time as we're hoping at my in-laws lake-side camp (rustic but restful!), I will not have access to the internet.

Actually, though, most of my congregation won't even notice that we are on vacation. And that's because it's more of a semi-vacation. That is, I'm preaching this Sunday and next Sunday but taking off in between. So I do have to work on a sermon during vacation but I'll be doing so in more vacation-like settings.

And why would I work my vacation in this way? I have three weeks vacation altogether coming to me and I'll be taking two more weeks off (which will encompass three Sundays) toward the end of August and into the first week of September. Taking three full weeks together wouldn't have worked as well, because, first, we prefer taking vacation in August and early September so that we experience a break between summer and fall. Second, our denomination's annual assembly gathering also happens in late August. In fact, the first night of our second stretch of vacation begins the day this assembly ends. But this means we can't take three straight weeks in August off because this asssembly officially counts as work for me. And, third, it works nicely because the last day of our denominational assembly is also our actual wedding anniversary. And since we're staying in a lovely bed and breakfast for our time at assembly, we booked an additional night for our anniversary. Works out well, especially since at this time our little girl will be with her grandparents!

I like the chance to laze around without too much regard for the clock, taking extra time to read, playing guitar while my daughter sings, hiking, camping, whatever, and that's precisely what vacation is for. I look forward to time with my family that will be largely uninteruppted (I say largely because, of course, we can never anticipate everything). I do have a dream vacation in my mind but it's not one we can really afford at the moment. It's nothing particularly exotic -- just staying in a beachside cottage for a week or two. My in-laws camp has been a mainstay during our vacations ever since we got married, and while I most definitely appreciate it, there are times when I would appreciate more a similar setting that included running water and electicity! Like I said earlier, the camp is rustic!

Anyway, I likely won't be posting again until next weekend or thereafter. I may post tomorrow, but that depends on how quickly sermon prep goes. I also have to choose music for our service. That all comes first. Here's praying that unplugging (in more ways than one!) for a week does me, and my family, some good!

Zzzzzzzzz . . .

Yesterday I woke up at around 5am and, inexplicably, stayed up. I had the bright idea of not going back to bed even though I had only gotten to bed the night before shortly after midnight. So I hadn't had a lot of sleep. Nevertheless, I felt fairly alert so up I was!

Around 7am I was sitting in one of the more comfortable chairs in our house and trying to pray -- except that after a little while, I found myself dozing, my mind wandering, distractions and random thoughts crowding out my more earnest and heart-felt petitions. And it wasn't much of a surprise given my state of restedness or not. But, still, on the whole I had a pretty good day. I even put together a decent outline for my sermon. I ran some errands. I prepared for Sunday morning's worship service. I had time with my family.

Eventually, of course, night arrived, and I went to bed. Well, I went to bed later than I should have (does anyone else do this?). And the next day, while I woke up at a decent hour, I still felt tired. Nevertheless, I trudged off to my office anyway. I attempted to work on my sermon, I tried reading my Bible, and, inevitably, was unsuccessful. Inevitably? The bottom line, I believe, is that my previous day's decision to stay up when I woke up so early (early for those of us who aren't farmers!) was catching up with me. I know this also because when I went upstairs from my office to our church sanctuary to pray, I found myself more than distracted. I very nearly fell asleep while sitting in one of our sanctuary chairs! Needless to say, it wasn't the most productive morning. My afternoon was better, but mostly because I wasn't attempting to do desk work but instead cleaned our car, ran a couple more errands, and helped my wife do some housework.

Rest is key to work, I was reminded. Without it, the brain can't function as it should. Thoughts are muddy. Prayers meander and even peter out. Reading leads to a pair of glazed over eyes. Physical rest, especially, is important. It's amazing how concentration is effected by the lack of it. All I know is that next time I get the notion to stay up when it's that early, I will suppress that impulse. This is especially true when the night before I got to bed fairly late. More waking hours doesn't necessarily mean more work done!

This life which is not your own . . .

I'm pretty darn certain that God sometimes smiles and, yes, even laughs.

And I say this now because of the contrast between life as a I know it right now and life as I once knew it as a university student. You see, when I was a university student (a period of time which consumed most of my 20s), I was also single. But for a few odd dates and eventually getting engaged to the woman who is now my beloved wife during my last year at school, I was essentially quite monkish while pursuing the academic path. Of course, as I often joked with other single friends, it's one thing to voluntarily choose a monk-like vow of singleness, it's quite another to have it thrust upon you! And for much of that time it felt thrust upon me. Especially once I was working on a PhD (and thus working on the end of my 20s!), I really began to feel a longing to settle down and have a family -- of course, I would have to have at least one date, right? Anyway, though single, I was not altogether content with that circumstance.

Now as it happens life as a single student also had its perks. For instance, my time was my own. There was no one in my life who was making demands on my time and schedule. Apart from my obvious responsibilities as a grad student, I was free. Not to mention the fact that, technically, I had more expendable income. (Granted, most of that "income" was from student loans, a rather depressing and anxiety-inducing topic all its own deserving its own post-entry.) Ostensibly, some might say I had it made. Answerable to no one, I was a bachelor, a single guy in his late 20s who had all the time in the world.

Why did I hate it so much then? Well, like I said, I wasn't so crazy about being single.

Now, as a husband and a father, very little of my time is my own. My routines are largely determined by the responsibilities these relationships entail. Not to say that I resent this -- not at all! -- but simply to say that life then and now are very different. And the crazy thing is sometimes, at least once in awhile, I long for a time when I had more me time. I guess that's not so crazy. No doubt everyone feels that way on occasion. But I look back on my university years and envy, at least in part, the freedom I had. Therein lies the rub: I find myself now wishing for more of what I had then, even though then I wanted what I have now. Nuts, eh?

As much as I love my family, and I truly, deeply do, like anyone else I can experience that need for space, a space within which I can't hear -- or don't have to listen to -- the loud noises of my daughter and the sounds that are a part of family life. Nothing abnormal about that, I think. And truth be told, I hardly long to return to my student days. My goal is to have something in between the two.

But in thinking about the difference between my life then and my life now, I think my life now more clearly reflects on what God's will for our lives is. That is, he intends for us to be ensconced (great word, eh?) in relationships of sufficient depth and intimacy that we have our inherent selfishness squeezed out of us. To have all my time -- and indeed my life -- to myself is to deprive myself of experiences which draw me out of myself and closer to the other -- whether the otherness of people or the otherness of God.

Truth is, my life has never been and never will be my own. It doesn't matter whether I have one hour or ten hours of free me time in a given week, my life and my time are God's. It's hard to practice that sometimes, however. But married life and life as a father definitely provide solid training ground in that holy reality. Certainly, these aren't the only relationships where God can teach us and shape us and make us into who he wants us to be. They are where God has led me, I'm glad to say.

In the meantime, I do wonder if God laughs when, having received from him all I was longing for when a student, I find my longings momentarily regressing. Who knows? All I know is that I don't have much time to worry about it!

Confessions . . .

Jesus once told his followers, and in having told them also tells us, "Be perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect." That's a high standard, one that taken literally is too high for most of us to meet. It helps, therefore, to know that the word translated "perfect" doesn't so much refer to moral perfection as it does "wholeness." That said, we're still obligated to live up to a high standard. Those of us who follow Jesus are probably quite aware that "all have sinned and fallen short of God's glory," and, in fact, that a life of holiness is one of gradual, incremental progress. We make our way along the path of discipleship in fits and starts; and this we do only by the power of God working in and through us. All this to say that as Christians we are still called to a life of repentance, contrition, and confession. Perhaps perfection lies partly in our willingness to be repentant, express contrition, and make confession.

Acknowledging our sins and failures, in many cases, can only happen in the closet of the individual believer or within the confines of a close-knit community or small-group. Confession even to another believer, a fellow brother or sister in Christ, needs to be done with discretion; not everyone can be trusted with the secrets of our hearts. That said, public confession, even if of a more general kind, should be a regular part of our worship. Failing to do so means both disregarding our proclivity for wrongdoing and our desperate need for grace.

Even I need to make confession. Pastors are hardly exempt from the need for a repentant life. Though Scripture does have a high standard for Christian leaders, this doesn't mean that we do not struggle with sin, temptation, and therefore need to avail ourselves often of God's mercy and willingness to heal and forgive, love and restore. Each day is a journey of faith, one fraught with potential downfalls and possible victories; and only with God's Spirit can we hope to have more of the latter than the former. This is as true of me as it is of any other person who confesses Christ as Lord.

I find that there are moments and occasions when I am very much aware of my own sinfulness and of all the ways that I fall short of God's glory. And I'm not speaking of moral failure necessarily, but mostly of all the ways that I experience brokenness through my relationships and in how I treat and live with those around me.

And so . . .

I confess that I fall short when it comes to my relationship with Christ. This happens when I fail to give sufficient time and energy to prayer. Instead, I opt to do other things. I will avoid reading Scripture on occasion and, worse, will avoid obeying Scripture. There are times when I only relectantly trust in Christ. Basically, I know that I am still very much in the process of being made whole in Christ, and that I am the one who inhibits this growth.

I confess that I fall short in my relationship with my wife. Even my best moments are still tainted by selfishness and pride. I sometimes want my wife to conform to my unrealistic expectations. I wrongly judge her by these expectations. Sometimes I fail to see her for who she is and love her for that.

I confess that I fall short in my relationship with my daughter. At times I can be impatient with her childishness, with behaviour on her part that is natural to her age, but is sometimes irritating to me. I forget sometimes, too, that the reason I am irritated is not because of her but because I am overtired or in a bad mood. But I still take it out on her by being short with her.

I confess that I fall short in my relationship with people in my church. As a pastor, I will disappoint and perhaps even fail people in my church. It's harder to pinpoint my failures here, but I think that sometimes I look at my church as a homogenous whole rather than a collection of unique individuals. I also know that I don't always manage to get around and connect with people consistently enough.

Truthfully, none of what I've said comes close to portraying my propensity for putting myself ahead of others. That's partly so because some of my sin I will only confess to God and those closest to me. But it's also so because my words will always be insufficient to describe my own sin and its effects on those around me. But I say all of this anyway, because I too am in need of forgiveness. I too need Christ to make me new. I too need the power of the Spirit because I cannot live by my own strength.

Wholeness in Christ only happens over time and, this side of glory, will always be incomplete. And so in the meantime, we confess. We confess our lack of holiness, our tendency to sin, how we are, head to foot, selfish creatures too thinly veiled with cultural goodness. But, of course, thankfully we can do so expectantly, hopefully, prayerfully, knowing full-well that our God is gracious and quick to forgive us when come to him with hearts of contrition. It is this -- God's immeasurable goodness and infinite power to provide healing and reconciliation -- that propels us to confess, both to him and to one another.

Chasing Butterflies

We all need to play sometimes. That's something my daughter, Ella, teaches me very well.

A number of weeks ago, on a beautiful Saturday, she and I were having fun outside playing catch, ball, chase, and run. Chase and run are very similar games, one involving running to see who is the fastest and the other involving who can run the fastest to a specific location! I try to let her win as much as possible. It's actually more fun that way!

Well, on this particular day while we were playing ball, I noticed a butterfly flying behind Ella. So I pointed this out to her. And no sooner did she see it then she began chasing it. I remember her saying something like, "Daddy, let's get it!" And in her mind, this is not an altogether unrealistic goal! (She once caught a chicken when someone told her she couldn't, so there is precedent! That story will have to wait.) But of course she didn't get catch the butterfly; however, she really had a good time chasing it.

I find it particularly cool how my little girl can get lost in useless play and take me along with her. Obviously, there's no practical reason to chase butterflies (though I suppose it develops hand-eye coordination) and there needn't be one. Just chasing it, laughing all the while, is the point. That's what it's all about.

We adults don't always play very well. Everything has to have a practical reason or application. All grown up, we live often for utility. Rather than laugh with children at play, instead we laugh at children at play, at the fact that one day they too will have to put away childish things and grow up. But I'm not convinced anymore that play is childish -- though it is definitely child-like, and perhaps we need something of that in our lives more regularly.

There is something about time spent being child-like, either with children or without, in that it's only about time spent laughing, playing, having fun, and the sheer lack of utility found in joy. It's useless time in the best sense of the word. Splashing around in the pool with my three-year old girl has no further end than getting one another wet and finding ourselves giggling helplessly at our own hijnks.

Sometimes, I must confess, when I encounter some adults -- people my own age and older -- I find myself thinking now that they too could use a little more time chasing butterflies.

Object Impermanence

When I was a kid -- I can't rememeber how old I was -- I had a special toy. It was one of those "dinkie" cars, as we called them. But it wasn't just any "dinkie" car; it was the General Lee from The Dukes of Hazzard. It was new, shiny, and very much treasured by me. And one day I went outside to play, and I stuck this toy in my jeans pocket. There it remained, until the end of the day. Much to my utter disappointment and dismay, when I took this valued possession out of my pocket later on it was no longer as shiny as it had been. There were scratches on the paint. It was no longer new. I was so disappointed!

I think that part of me had this hope that my most treasured possessions -- at this age this usually meant toys and comic books -- would always be with me, ready at a moment's notice to give me pleasure and provide enjoyment.

At a very young age, children learn what's called object permanence. It's the understanding that even though a given object is out of view that it still exists. You can hide the ball from the toddler, but they still realize that the ball exists even if they can't lay their eyes on it.

On that day when my General Lee "dinkie" car was scratched up and damaged -- and my illusion of it's permanence shattered -- I learned something akin to this: object impermanence, that no objects in this world, none of our possessions, no matter how deeply treasured, are forever.

Ella, too, learned this recently. It happened on more than one occasion, but the one I remember is when she was playing with Thomas and Friends adhesives, re-usable stickers that are meant for window surfaces. The problem with these stickers is, when you stick them to one another, the ink gets peeled off. On this and a couple of other occasions, Ella asked me why something, one of her belongings, was no longer as it was or working as it used to. And so I told her that it was damaged or broken. Now she didn't cry or anything. She wasn't so much upset by this as she was curious about it. I could look in her eyes and see her processing this new knowledge. And I can only pray that we can help her turn this new-found knowledge into wisdom.

In Luke 12 Jesus tells his disciples not to worry about possessions, about what they need to live, that God, knowing full well what we need, can be trusted to provide them. In admonishing his disciples this way, Jesus shows us that he knows well our prediliction to strive for material possessions. Ultimately, Jesus is directing us to recognize the impermanence of such objects: "Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

Kids, including my little girl, can get much joy out of and put much into their toys and possessions. I suppose adults are the same; the toys just get bigger and more expensive. But we have to guard our hearts and be wary of treasuring anything that will not last. As one song says, "I never saw a U-Haul being pulled behind a hearse." Doing so keeps us from trusting God as we should, and it keeps us from valuing his Kingdom more than the things of this world. I have to continually be reminded of this too. And only when such a truth becomes more a part of me will my daughter's knowledge that her toys will not last be transformed into a life-giving wisdom that trusts more in the Creator than in any of his creations.

Screen-Time

This, I think, is the longest I've gone without posting since February. A combination of getting busy with other things, various distractions, etc., is the reason for my absence. Not that many out there were anxiously awaiting the uploading of any new reflections on my part. It's also summer, which means that life tends to take on a different sense of rhythm. We're trying, as a family, to enjoy more time together. For me, one of those crucial things enabling us to share such time are trips to one or other of the various beaches we have within driving distance. What I like about the beach is that there is nothing to do there except play in the sand with my daughter, watch my wife play in the sand with my daughter, read, maybe play guitar, and generally lie around, enjoy a cold drink, some snacks, and, most times, take the opportunity to video-tape snippets for our home movie collection.

We've also, as a family, made a new rule for the summer: reduced TV time. That is, we've all agreed to choose one video a week to watch. So far the day for videos is Friday. In case you think such a rule unrealistic, there are a few caveats: first, if Ella, our three year old, is visiting someone else, she's allowed to watch TV (say, at her grandparents' house). Second, if my wife and daughter are away for a day or two, daddy gets to watch TV. Though I still try to keep it to a minimum. Third, home movies are the exception. Within reason, we can have home movies on more often. This is good because over the last couple of weeks I've been transferring our homes movies to DVD.

What's surprising is that our little Ella hasn't found this discipline as challenging as I would have thought. You see, almost everyday she would watch a couple of videos. Moreover, it was often the first thing she would ask for when she woke up. "I want to watch a video," she would tell me. And on many occasions I would agree, if only to give myself more time to myself, to get breakfast, etc. And my wife and I also haven't found it terribly hard either. Only when they're not home for a couple of days, which happens with some regularity since my in-laws live reasonably close, do I give into the impulse to put an end to the uncomfortable silence that pervades the house with their absence. Yet even then, it's often not so much because I want to but out of habit or just because . . . like I said, the house is quiet and empty without them.

What's also surprising is how much we can enjoy a video or TV when we watch it but how little we actually miss it when we don't have it. When I was in university I used to watch a lot of TV. My roommates and I always had cable TV. And then one year I found myself with a small, 10 inch TV and no cable. All I had was one or two channels, and in poor quality. But I never missed it. Quite a comment on our habits that we can spend so much time on something that ultimately we hardly think about when it's not available or when we make a conscious decision to limit our use of it.

I wonder if we could apply that same logic to computer screen-time? And just when I got back into posting!