That Was the Worst Christmas Ever!

Well, not really. But it kinda sucked.

Christmas is one of my favourite times of the year. So for the first time in five years, I used several vacation days to extend my days off.  I was hoping to spend some time with my elderly grandfather, make lots of music with my aunt, see a whole bunch of movies in theatres, and spend time alone reading and writing.

On the 23rd, after a nearly perfect Christmas tree hunt,  I went downtown to meet up with a best friend to watch Jackie at Eau Claire. Thanks to the nasty roads and snowfall, he was unable to show up. So I went into a pub to catch up on emails and ordered a large serving of fish and chips. The meal was too expensive and left a bad taste in the mouth. Frustrated, I went across the street to watch the excellent film Manchester by the Sea. I went to bed around midnight, excited for my vacation to begin.

At 3:10 am I woke up with an even worse taste in my mouth. "Just get rid of it and all will be well" I told myself. That was not so easily done.

It was nine hours later that I dared swallow a sip of water. It took the next twelve hours to get rehydrated, forty hours before I dared eat a full meal, and sixty before the diarrhea stopped. I was throwing up so hard that I burst blood vessels in my left eye, resulting in two days of hazing vision  and looking like I'd survived a bar fight rather than food poisoning. It's now been four days and I'm still exhausted.

I'm surprised how easy I've fallen into despair. To not find enjoyment in the rich gifts around us is expected, for they can quickly grow old. But not finding hope and comfort on the truths and power of prayer and scripture is verging on inexcusable. I have so much to learn!

And then I saw reports of friends' Christmases. A trip to the emergency room on Christmas Day because an infant daughter is chocking. A Christmas Eve in the hospital due to colitis. A wife whose brain tumour has resulted in a hand refuses to recover and is throbbing with pain. Or even worse: a miscarriage.

So I resolve to enjoy these next few days off. It will be easy to look back with regret on time wasted and memories ruined. It will be tempting to find joy solely in the music I'll play, the movies I'll see, the friends I'll meet, the quite time I'll savour. What's the alternative? Perhaps it's knowing that these circumstances exist to humble us, to re-anchor us in something greater than the well-being that we have built up around us, that bursts so easily. When I am made aware of that again, contentment is possible. I can rest in someone outside of myself.

Pruned

The second of a three part series on suffering, continuing the story that began in Stripped.

“Contentment is taking pleasure in God’s disposal. This is so when I am well pleased in what God does, in so far as I can see God in it, though, as I said, I may be sensible of the affliction, and may desire that God in his due time would remove it, and may use means to remove it. Yet I am well pleased in so far as God’s hand is in it.”

Jeremiah Burroughs, The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment

One of my pastors, Gavin Peacock, regularly reminds me that “God doesn’t waste anything, including any period of your life. He uses it all.” During these recent troubles I’ve found this to be true. I certainly haven’t liked these times of trials. But looking back, I’ve realize how much I’ve grown through them. I now see that, though bitter the taste, I would not choose to trade these events for something easier. They were given to me for a reason. I’m like a child who hates learning how to read, and the Lord is like a wise tutor who says “yes, this is hard, but it is training and you will thank me later.”

As the exhaustion of work and medication trials set in, many of the things I wanted to do had to be put aside. This of course included school and opportunities at work, but also the many ways I could support my church, writing opportunities (my website and requests from others), and other personal creative projects (a new podcast a friend and I mapped out and a series of interviews). I mentioned last time how this experience humbled me, bringing me face to face with my inabilities. But I still felt like I was wasting the resources given to me by God. With frustration I complained, for are we not commanded to bear fruit? Could I not offer something to show for the life I had been given?

I brought this conundrum to Gavin one day. He had me imagine a tree that is producing lush apples. If this tree starts to focus on these apples, channeling all its resources into what they look like and how well they are growing, it will eventually run out nutrients, wither, and die, killing itself along with its fruit. Instead, the tree would be wiser to focus on its roots, digging deep into the good soil, bringing nutrients to the entire tree. Then fruit will then come, unbidden and unlooked for, freely offered to whoever needs it. That truly is the best kind of fruit.

Later, my pastor Clint Humfrey brought to my attention Jesus’ words in John 15:2: “Every branch in me that does not bear fruit [the Father] takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it might bear more fruit.” To the branch who wants to bear fruit, being clipped by sharp shears seems counterintuitive. Compare a wild tree to a freshly pruned tree. Which tree seems healthier? The wild tree appears to be more productive; notice the healthy foliage it grows in every direction and the multitude of branches, complete with small apples. In contrast, the pruned tree looks naked and bare, perhaps even bruised and bloody. But the Farmer knows his trees and through his pruning he is preparing growth that will result in fruit far better than what the tree would bear on its own.

This illustration, brought to me by my pastor from the words Jesus himself, has brought me much comfort. Again and again I’ve told myself “Trust the Farmer, Daniel. Be encouraged by the painful pruning!” “The branch that does bear fruit, he prunes, that it might bear more fruit.” God is pruning because he realizes the tree’s potential. He prunes because He has better plans for that tree, plans that position him in His garden of foliage.

The story continues in Sustained.

Travels 2015: The Coffee Saga

Travels 2015 is a series of updates I originally posted on Facebook while on vacation. What started as a quick update and a couple photos transformed into a series of mini-essays that I would have posted on this website had it been up and running at the time. This one was written on July 28th, 2015.

As a lover of delicately brewed coffee, I bought an Areopress and two bags of favourite roasts to the island. The night I arrived I realized halfway through making the first cup that I was missing the Areopress's filter cap, which locks the pressure in place during the brewing (essential to the procedure, as my messy improvising soon proved.)

I spent far too much time that night anxiously Googling "Areopress filter cap substitutions," "using Areopress without filter cap," and "Areopress filter cap replacement shipping times", as well as scouring the pantry for possible substitutions. No dice. I went to bed concocting replacement coffee brewing schemes and reminding myself that worry over the small things betrayed a lack of trust in Him who rules even those details.

The next day I headed to the one store on the island, a locally run CO-OP. In the basement, next to the hardware and plumbing aisles and Tupperware shelf was a bare coffee appliance section. The French Press was too expensive and too large to transport home, but the stovetop espresso machine looked familiar. I almost bought it in the moment, but decided researching its merits might justify its cost.

I texted my friend and local coffee advisor, Jesse Graham, having remembered seeing one in his kitchen. He gave it his hearty approval and I began to grow excited about the purchase. "All is right with the world again" I told myself. Coffee and personal equanimity would be restored.
A small voice asked if this consolation of all material goods was where my happiness was rooted. "It looks like all is well, but would you still be happy if your plans of purchasing were thwarted? Which could happen, although only if that one item were sold to someone else." I took note of that thought, but felt confident that my plan would work just fine.

It's a bit of a trip to the CO-OP so I planned a visit when I was near the area, which ended up towards the end of a busy day (filled cycling, reading, sun, and splashing). I finally made the long walk to the store, headed down into the basement, found the shelf and stood there in shock. The shelf was empty. Sold out.

"If we look to created things to us the meaning, hope & happiness that only God himself can give, it will eventually break our hearts" says Tim Keller and my happiness that evening was ruptured. And as I reflected on my day, I realized that so much of this entire vacation's planned happiness was built around my plans of ordered happiness - having the perfect books, music, clothes, and coffee equipment purchased in time. This attitude needed to be confessed to the Lord, who orders all things, even that one other islander who purchases that one other espresso pot before I did.

"For the inward mind and heart of a man are deep.
But God shoots his arrow at them;
they are wounded suddenly.” 

~Psalm 64:6-7

So, I had to continue to improvise the coffee making process. Pictured is the cloth-napkin-pour-over. It brings out some great coffee flavour, I'm happy to report, but it also adds some pretty nasty old cloth napkin subtleties. Still, it's better than the 20-year old drip machine.

P.S. Oyster update: Grampie announced that although he very much enjoyed our feast yesterday, it did not agree with his stomach during the night. So now I have the task of single-handedly finishing the just over 24 oysters sitting on melting ice in the fridge.