Enumeration No. 1

I’ve followed rapper Whitelotus on Instagram for a number of years. Occasionally he would comment on a photo, adding a line of poetry that would breathe second life into that image. I enjoyed these spontaneous collaborations so much that we decided to work together on something more official. We now present Enumeration: A Collaboration. Whitelotus chooses from a selection of my images, creating a sequence of poems to pair with them. Below is the first sequence, Enumeration No. 1. Join us by following along on both of our Instagram accounts (@realwhitelotus and @djmelvill; let us know what you think. (You can also download this first sequence as a PDF here.)

one.

may we be found in our own journey : we are chasing phantoms : we are elated from within : we are folded about ourselves : in the hope of finding higher ground, we are submerged in our being

two.

we are led to the water : we are of the finest silk and lightest threads, sifted through the filter of our perception : we are aware of more that what we sense : we can feel it

three.

cut into the dampness of the minds eye, we are running : petrified state of glorious ambush : led into the darkness : we are being guided by our intuition

four.

all things come to us as a surprise : we are being led to it : impermanence, we are foundered by it : we are lost in contemplation

five.

it is a ghostly renunciation : past blood and by waters, we are being watched : the sensation of union is fleeting : the emptiness embraces us and becomes our watcher

Snaps for Props

Last night I attended both my first spoken word concert and my first hip-hop show. Propaganda performed one set from each category at an event supporting Calgary's own Legacy One outreach program. Although I've been a fan of Propaganda for some time, seeing him live and hearing him perform poetry left quite the impression. Let's see if I can capture in words the flavour of the evening. Here is a tribute to that night. 

His is a poetry not divorced from thought or feeling. It is joyous, words not only enflamed from the brain but rattling in the bones, alive to life’s pain yet aware that man is not alone. He won’t let you off the hook, nor himself either. Eyes wide open, will you join him? “Oh,” he tell us, “we got problems with race, don’t deny it or be amazed. Our education system’s a mess, stop acting so impressed. But our deepest issue is found right here in my tissue. My heart and my mind are defaced, yet I’m gonna speak of grace. I’m aware of it, through our King who is incarnate. See, I’m redeemed but far from perfect. I can’t change the world but I can touch it. I’m alive to His beauty ‘cause I’m confident in His sovereignty.” Having heard him, our minds are enlarged, our hearts are renewed. We return to our homes exhausted, refreshed, reminded that this messy, complicated life can be redeemed, for our God is our banner.

The Good Dinosaur (2015)

I've been asked by the folks at Reel World Theology to contribute a film review from time to time. It's been over a year since I've written in-depth about the movies so I was happy to oblige with a review of Pixar's latest, The Good Dinosaur. Below are a couple paragraphs to wet your appetite before you read the entire review.

"As someone who grew up shouldered by the Rocky Mountains, next to towns where Unforgiven and Brokeheart Mountain were shot, I recognized the landscape captured so well; the deep blues and greens of mountain river waters, the dusty greys of its sandy silt, and the glorious oranges of the virgin birch forest. I also recognized the dangerous menace of the quickly approaching mountain storm, as well as the haunting vastness of the wilderness. Whenever I travel into the mountains I return refreshed and in awe—of something, or Someone, who is far greater than me. Something untamed. Such is true in this movie too.

In The Good Dinosaur, this wildness (call it creation or call it nature) is the main character. Everyone and everything else is just the backdrop. I left as refreshed by this scenery as I do when I visit the real mountains, or when I watch films like The Thin Red Line, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, or the 1978 animation of Watership Down. These movies are alive to wonder and aware of terror and The Good Dinosaur joins their ranks."

Read the whole review and then, if you've seen the film, let me know your thoughts in the comments below.

Desert Island Artists

There is nothing like sinking your teeth into an excellent musician’s back catalogue. The journey of discovery usually begins by falling in love with a single album, spending hours unpacking its lyrics, examining its riffs, and enjoying its virtuosity. Just that one album can be a priceless gift gift, but when you discover that they’ve released other music just as worthy, that journey is like a slow burn of Christmas mornings. An artist with such riches is one I would happily explore forever, an artist that would satisfy for a lifetime, even if the rest of your music library is removed. A desert island artist. I love lists so here are my top five such desert island artists.

Paul Simon

One day some colleagues and I got into a major disagreement over who had produced better music, Simon and Garfunkel or Paul Simon. I proposed, and was ridiculed for my opinion, that Paul Simon’s music has a depth that surpasses the youthful melodies of the famous folk duo. You could give me just his two world albums, Graceland and Rhythm of the Saints and I would have enough complexity of beat and elegance of lyrics to keep me happy for months. But even his recent 2011 album has tracks like ‘Rewrite’, which is my definition of a perfect song. Unlike his earlier efforts, Paul Simon’s best music is a certain intrinsic selflessness, which is why Sammy Rhodes described Graceland as “so full of joy it practically dares you to be sad.”

Start with: Graceland

Sufjan Stevens

One of the great things about Sufjan Stevens is the diversity of his music. Watching it progress over his career is quite a journey. His early lo-fi folk, with its almost medieval flare thanks to the horns and flutes, gave way to an orchestration, complete with choral rounds and chants. Then there is his electronic phases filled delightful, if sometimes obnoxious beats and patches. His recent offerings combine gentle electronic with a light folk that has me eager to see where it will evolve next. But it’s his lyrics that haunt and comfort me. A friend of mine describes one song, Impossible Soul, as the best song to listen to when your depressed. It meets you in your sorrow, cheers you up, and then reminds us that our depression is probably rooted in our own selfishness. And I supposes such is true of his entire discography.

Start with: Come on Feel the Illinois, or Songs of Christmas (depending on the time of year).

Josh Garrels

Josh Garrels is a songcrafter. He’s honed his arsenal of tools and what are a rare mixture they are. He is just as comfortable using organic samples and beats as he is with sparse guitar picking. His voice is equally at home dispatching hip-hop flow as he is soul-stabbing falsetto. This package is wrapped into a lush soundscape that tells stories of heartache and home, the dangers of the wilderness and the contentment of redemption. His are songs I can nestle into and live my life amongst.

Start with: Love & War & The Sea In Between

Humble Beast

True, technically a hip-hop label. But the group’s four artists, united by the label’s lush, acoustic driven production, sit on equal footing in their talents and upon my musical shelf of honour. I turn to Beautiful Eulogy when my soul is dry and my heart is broken, and they restore me in the hope of the Gospel, my cheeks often getting wet in the process. Propaganda is a modern day prophet, preaching into his culture while restoring hope in his community of Los Angeles. Jackie Hill Perry intricate wordplay produces a cracked mosaic drawing us to seek joy in the Lord. And JGivens’s depth of lyrics and intricate soundscapes tell a multi-layered story as complex and as simple as life itself. To say that their music has impacted my life is an understatement.

Start with: Fly Exam or Crimson Cord

Open Slot

I know, I know, this is cheating, but honestly, choosing this artist would depend on what I’m most feeling on the day of my island banishment. Would it be U2 (with lots to explore, not to mention two of the best albums ever recorded, The Joshua Tree and Achtung, Baby)? Might I choose Elbow, whose maundering chords and rifts I can sink my teeth into? Or would it be a perineal favourite, Jars of Clay? Right now I would probably opt for Bob Dylan. His talents remain undiminished, his back catalogue offers so much to explore, his broken voice satisfies in ways normal polish just can’t, and his musicianship and storytelling can fill a lifetime

Start with: U2's The Joshua Tree, Elbow's The Takeoff and Landing of Everything, Jars of Clay's The Long Fall Back to Earth, and Bob Dylan's Oh Mercy.

So there they are, my five(ish) desert island artists. Who would you choose? Please share - maybe your suggestions will result in the rest in a new journey of discovery for the rest of us.

Scriptures Shaping Community: A Visit to The Bible Project

Many of the topics I discussed with Tim Mackie did not make it into this final essay.  I've published the full transcript of that fascinating interview here. 

I arrive at Door of Hope church in northeast Portland shortly after its first service begins at 8 a.m. As I open the red doors I hear an upbeat rendition of one of my favourite hymns: ‘On Jordan’s Stormy Banks I Stand.’ A six piece band plays with simple precision and although the congregation has the clothing styles and facial hair one would expect from Portland,  I’m surprised at the diversity of ages. Tim Mackie preaches, but his conversational style is more akin to teaching. As he walks us through a passage from Matthew, his care for the congregation and what he is expounding is obvious. As he tells me later “the Bible is a living thing and the whole point about why I care about it is the way it shapes people and communities for the Kingdom of God.”

And shape people it does. As I listen, my preconceived way of thinking is confronted by the teachings of Jesus. After Tim concludes his message the band plays a song written by a member of the congregation. I’m challenged and comforted by the lyrics, “oh Love that breaks all sinful bonds, please conquer more of me.” I leave, encouraged to trust Jesus as I face my uncertain future, and the second of three services begins. The building is packed and the congregation is asked to give up any extra chairs in order to accommodate the people who are still arriving.

Tim preaching from Matthew 16: 1-12; "Oh you of little faith, why are you discussing among yourself that fact that you have no bread?"

An animated walkthrough of "God's Holiness" Want to see more? Our Website: http://www.jointhebibleproject.com Say hello or follow us here: Twitter: http://twitter.com/joinbibleproj Facebook: http://fb.com/jointhebibleproject The theme of "Heaven and Earth" begins in the first verse of the BIble: "In the beginning God created the Heavens and the Earth."

Door of Hope is one of the reasons I’ve come to Portland. I heard about the church through its music (Josh Garrels is one of the elders) and through Tim Mackie’s work at The Bible Project. The Bible Project is a series of crowd-funded videos that offer animated explanations of the books of the Bible. They are beautifully presented, clear to understand, and use a form of communication that is open to anyone, regardless of your religious or cultural background. I’m eager to learn more about the creation of these videos. I’m also intrigued by the number of ministries in Portland that embrace creativity as way of sharing biblical truth; so I arrange a visit with the other half of The Bible Project, Jon Collins. 

Jon invites to me to visit Sincerely Truman, a communications consulting company that The Bible Project is based out of. Their building is located across the river from downtown Portland, in a former industrial neighbourhood that includes Stumptown Coffee’s headquarters. The space breathes creativity and collaboration, from the endless sketch-filled whiteboards, to the bar featuring local brews and three Chemex's working in rotation. 

Sincerely Truman, an open office filled with tables rather than desks and where couches are as ubiquitous as sketch-filled whiteboards.

Jon originally wanted to be a pastor before realizing that he was too young for the job. Putting his communications degree and storytelling skills to use, he co-founded Epipheo, a company that produces videos that “reveal epiphanies to people”. Out of Epipheo Sincerely Truman was born. Jon describes his strength as “distilling information.” He learns everything he can about a client (a local brewing company or a charity dedicated to diagnosing blindness), clarifying the details into a package his team will use to create everything from the company’s logo to their website. 

Jon and Tim became friends while interning together during university. Tim, a self professed Bible geek, was studying Hebrew and taking any opportunity he could to teach — Sunday School, student classes in university, even a series of self-produced videos featuring him and a whiteboard explaining the literary structure of each book of the Bible.  It was while Tim was working on his Ph.D. that Jon, who had built his career around making videos, pitched an idea: “What if we did some Bible videos together?” When Tim returned to Portland to pastor Door of Hope, he and Jon started meeting once a week. It took a year and a half of those meetings to flesh out the scripts, develop a visual style, and decide on the crowd funding model. Door of Hope’s donated one day a week from Tim’s schedule, providing initial support until the crowd-funding model gained momentum upon the launch of their first video.

Tim and Jon plan the outline for the yet to be released Proverbs video, part of their Read Scripture series of videos.

Tim arrives. He and Jon sit down in a restaurant style booth that provide the perfect spot to brainstorm and they work on the outline for an upcoming video on the Book of Proverbs. Tim already has a script in place and a rough outline for what will become the finished video. The two spend almost an hour together fine tuning and clarifying the outline. Watching this process, it becomes clear why they make such a good team. Tim is prepared with a script and a sheet of paper filled with a rough outline, well equipped in his knowledge of how to read and understand this book. As Tim walked through his plan for the video he would ask Jon to clarify the best ways to visualize the information on the page. The finished product was much clearer following their collaboration. It was also a pleasure to see how interested Jon was in having his understanding of the Bible strengthened through these conversations, which is also apparent when you listen to their podcast. 

It takes several drafts before arriving at final poster used in the video. An example what such a poster looks like when finished can be found here.

Unlike many arts and faith organizations, folks at The Bible Project, along with other Portland creatives like Humble Beast and Josh Garrels, are faithful to their art while being truthful to the Gospel. A common element seems to be their location in Portland, which surprises me. My experience on the rest of the West Coast has left me with the impression of a creative but spiritually vacant region. I ask Tim why Portland is different and if there is a common thread tying these ministries together. As he ponders the question I remember my experience at Door of Hope yesterday. “Is it something to do with the healthy churches?”

“For sure.” he answers. “To be honest, it is a huge piece of it. Door of Hope is one of a network of churches planted in the core of Portland during the last decade and a half. It was something significant, part of a new wave of younger, more innovative church planters who were really trying to engage the culture of the city.” He names about a dozen churches of various sizes and denominations, describing the collegiality and friendship amongst the pastors. “Among all of us there is a common focus on discipling people who are engaging the culture of the city with their careers. And so 15 years in, you see the fruit of that through a business like Epipheo or Sincerely Truman, or a ministry like Humble Beast.” This even applies to Portland’s thriving coffee scene. “The coffee industry in Portland is riddled with really, really committed followers of Jesus. Among the main roasters there is a core that are owned or managed by Christians.”

We then make our way downstairs into the basement of Sincerely Truman and into The Bible Project's headquarters. One wall consists of a giant whiteboard where a complex timeline of video titles, assignments (“Record, Illustrate, Edit, Launch”), and schedules are organized. A row of desks house a team of about 9 people, all of whom are quietly working. The walls are covered with posters from the Sketchbook series, frames from films like Song of the Sea that are inspiring the project’s style, and bookshelves filled with Bible commentaries.  Tim pulls up a chair next to Mac, a storyboard artist, and together they begin illustrating the Proverbs video. I chat with several members of the team. Robert, the art director, tells me about his work maintaining a constant style amongst all the projects. Kayla, an animator, shares some of the influences for upcoming videos. Guy, who’s working on visual effects, tells me about his journey prior to joining The Bible Project and his experience with the churches in Portland. I even chat with Jon’s mum, who is volunteering her time by helping send out posters to monthly sponsors. 

Tim and Jon now bring the video's outline to Mac, who does a rough sketch before polishing it up and sending it to the animators.

“You need to find a way for your vocation to overlap both inside and outside the church” Tim tells me. “The way we’ve done it at Door of Hope is that we all have significant creative projects on the side to keep us engaged in our areas of interest. So [our worship pastor] Evan has a band that is quite successful here in Portland. He tours regularly and just fits that into his life while being full time at the church. There is a value of weaving your life into the culture of the city but having it overlap with the culture of the church, as opposed to being very separatist or distinct.” I’m seeing an example of this principle as Sincerely Truman, a secular company, parents this very Christian endeavour. 

What’s the future for the project? Plans are in place for a series explaining how to read the various literary types of the Bible. Tim wants to tackle the making of the biblical cannon and the history of the book. Jon’s dreaming of a Holy Land tour in a hybrid of animation and onsite footage. Ultimately, their vision is that The Bible Project’s YouTube’s channel becomes a centre for learning with hours upon hours of free content for anyone who wants a Bible education.

A partial view of The Bible Project's headquarters. Turning around, one would see the desks of the animators along with more shelves of books.

I wonder if their visual approach will pull viewers away from the word-centred faith of the Bible. “We’re not trying to replace people’s experience with the Scriptures” Tim explains. “We areproviding a tool that makes them coherent, understandable, and approachable. If anything, one of my goals for the videos is that someone watching them will come away thinking “now I want read the book of Genesis.” But at the same time the Scriptures are united to living church communities that are themselves being shaped by the Scriptures, — encountering Scripture within the web of relationships with other disciples.” In fact they regularly hear from churches from around the world who are using the videos as tools for doing just that — hence the study guides the team are producing.

The afternoon is getting late. Before leaving, I thank Jon, Tim, and the rest of the team, Tim says “I hope this visit has been invigorating.” Indeed it has. I’ve seen a healthy, gospel centred church bearing fruit in its community through ordinary discipleship. Out of that fruit is born a ministry of creativity; men and women using their skills in both the church and the world. Their ministry, one video view at a time, is impacting lives around the world; even my own life in Calgary, Alberta. Perhaps there is hope for my city too. I leave encouraged and renewed in my calling to be faithful at home amongst my church and in my community.

Arbutus: A Photo Series

One of the highlights of my vacation to the West Coast this summer was spending a couple afternoons and evenings wandering Helliwell Provincial Park. My backpack was filled with snacks, water, a sweater, and a Mophie juicepack. I would listen to my Wendell Barry audiobook while wandering along the beach, or through the forest, or across the cliffs. Regularly I would pause, under a giant oak tree or amongst a glade of arbutus trees, and pull out my book, a biography of George Herbert. And of course, my iPhone's camera accompanied me everywhere.

There are many arbutus trees on Hornby Island. The arbutus is my favourite tree. It is filled with character and with potential for images. This series of five images, all taken in or nearby Helliwell Park, was photographed with the app AverageCamPro and edited with VSCO Cam. I hope you enjoy. 

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

Sustained

The third of a three part series on suffering. The story began in Stripped, continued in Pruned, and concludes here.

“Remember this, had any other condition been better for you than the one in which you are, divine love would have put you there.”

~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon

One of my favourite musicians, a spoken-word and hip-hop artists called Propaganda, released a song last year called Crimson Cord. Its verses, recounting tales of abandonment and moral failure, are contrasted with the repeated chorus: 

The pain that guides us
The strings that tie us
The coincidence that proves to us God's existence.
Joy we misplaced
Beautiful mistakes
The scarlet thread
The Crimson Cord.

Wear your scars out loud
That's the fingerprints of the Lord
A crimson cord, baby, a crimson cord.
A timeline, a scarlet thread
A crimson cord, baby, a crimson cord.
Let me celebrate your crimson cord.
And that's beautiful, a crimson cord.
No regrets, boy, a crimson cord.
Evidence of God's love, that's a crimson cord

The point of Prop’s song seems strange. How can such discouraging stories result in a chorus and, ultimately a song, so hopeful? Propaganda is looking beyond what is glaringly obvious in the here and the now. He looks through the lens of faith and sees a God who is at work and is redeeming the brokenness, even using it, towards something good. 

In my previous entries in this series on suffering, I described the troubles of my past year. One afternoon, at the height of these struggles, I found myself on my lunch break thoroughly discouraged and almost despairing of any hope. 

But like the beam of light from Galadriel’s phial that encouraged Frodo in his darkest hour, I remembered Psalm 118:17: “I shall not die, but I shall live, and recount the deeds of the Lord.” I began to remember all the small examples of God’s kindness during this period, the small knots on the rope I was hanging onto. I recalled the timing of my diagnoses, the wise council of my parents, and precious conversations with my pastor Gavin giving me guidance and encouragement just when I needed it. I recalled the moral support from friends at work, the understanding of my boss, and words of wisdom from friends at church provided at just the right season. I recalled the conversations (mentioned earlier) with my pastors and even the music from Josh Garrels and the quotes from books that proved so timely. I recalled my own Crimson Cord. 

Here is another example, another knot from this scarlet thread. Over the last 12 months my church offered a “book of the month” for our congregation to read and discuss. The book for the month of May was the puritan Jeremiah Burroughs’s ‘The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment.’ No doctor could have ordered a better medicine for my soul. I’ve already quoted excerpts from this work that spoke strongly to me. Several nights I would leave work having received a particularly devastating piece of news and think to myself; “the only way I can handle this is to go home, cry, then read another chapter of Burroughs”. I clung to the volume’s comfort and wisdom as it counselled, consoled, and built me up in the strength of the Lord. How kind of the Lord to have this reading assigned at just such a time!

As I write this, it is early October, five months since these trials were at their peak. Life still isn’t easy. Certain issues have been resolved, others I continue to struggle with. I’ve gone off and had other adventures and the Lord has taught me new things. I look back on this time of suffering and I remember the darkness. But I also recall a certain strange sweetness. The Lord was good. He provided. He brought those trials upon me and, in the end, I am glad for it.

At the beginning of 2015 I read I book of essays examining the influence of C. S. Lewis. In one, theologian Kevin Vanhoozer described a certain vocabulary Lewis repeatedly used. “For Lewis, waking is a way of describing one’s conversion, a coming to new life. The Christian life is all about wakefulness. Theology describes what we see when we are awake, in faith to the reality of God, and discipleship is the project of becoming fully awake to this reality and staying awake.”

That concept of describing the Christian life as “the project of becoming fully awake to this reality and staying awake” has stuck with me and churned its way through my thoughts this whole year. I become so focused on the here and now. My way of thinking defaults to that of the world around me, which feels so real and is so all-consuming. But it is not ultimate. It is, in fact, the “shadowlands”. That is not to say it is not real, or does not matter. It matters very much, for it is made by God and is in fact the theatre of God’s salvation, the world in which we learn to be in awe of him even more. 

But when my eyes get lazy and when I fail to see God at work, I then walk around with my nose to the ground, stumbling over roots and rocks rather than beholding the vistas of greatness all around me. So I need discipleship. I need community to alert my to the unseen and align my vision with that of God’s Word. I need to reorient myself daily in the Bible and seek the face of God in prayer, and then I need to continue to be awakened throughout the day. 

“I believe” cries the psalmist.  “Help my unbelief!”

So I’ll continue to seek God’s glory. Not by just by aiming to succeed in lofty accomplishments, but by a life of what my friend calls “radical ordinariness”. A life of seeking his face through prayer. A life of seeing his face clearer by fighting remaining sin. A life of bearing fruit. 

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.

Stripped

The first of a three part series on suffering. 

“We fear God will let us down. So we fall back into scurrying about to fill our emptiness with our own resources. But God graciously lets us wear ourselves out, and these efforts come to nothing. Life exists not in us, but in Christ alone and Christ fully. We live in him.” 

“There will be times in life when we feel that everything is falling apart. But such times can crack open our hearts to depend on the living Christ as never before, to always place our endless need before his endless supply.”

-Ray Ortlund, The Gospel: How the Church Portrays the Beauty of Christ

Friends, this website was quite for a long time. But 2015 was a hard year.

It could have been worse. I’m not out of work (although my job title has changed). I’m not dying of cancer (although a friend did just that). I’m not falling into depression (although I’ve received heath diagnosis that has been momentous to wrestle through). But suffering is suffering, and I’ve experienced some these past months. Everyone experiences trails. These occur in differing degrees of intensity, but how one chooses to handle them can be consistent. So I intend to share some of my experiences and what the Lord has taught me through them over a series of three posts, titled “Stripped”, “Pruned”, and “Sustained.” May they encourage you and may they magnify Him.

In February I received a mental health diagnosis, revealing major weakness that run to the very core of who I am as a person. Initial results of the diagnosis had me cancelling travel plans to visit a university and compete in scholarships, but such losses were least of my concerns as the long term effects of a medical trail sunk in. Not only was my brain and body being rewired by medication, but I was forced to reckon, often in public, with hard truths of who I was and how much I had to learn. It was humbling, strange, and scary.

In the months that followed, as the meds sapped my energy and rewired my personality, I had to let things go. First to leave was my internet presence. Writing reviews, applying for school, and posting articles on this website faded as my energy level allowed for not much more than three things; work, sleep, and rest at home. 

Then, in the space of one brutal week, three heavy blows were struck. On Thursday, a relationship with a very close friend changed, leaving much that I desired unfulfilled.  The following Tuesday I received the news that, due to failures at work, my job, which meant so much to me, was also to changed. And then two days later, we received the news that a young friend had died of cancer, a loss that struck heavy like humid skies.

During that hard month of May, I listened again and again to an album Josh Garrels had recently released. One song, “Leviathan”, seemed written just for me.

“All my life, all I’ve done.

Falls apart, is undone.

Built a tower you tore it down.

I am weak. You are strong. 

Who can tame Leviathan?

Yaweah gives and takes away.

Will you curse of bless the Name?

Trails test us like the flame.”

I was confronted with my own inability, but I began to see that such confrontation was in fact a gift, a realization that I, contrary to all of my self-imposed greatness and ability, am not God. I am only a man, and a broken and damaged man at that. God may have given me talents and abilities, successes and opportunities, but when these gifts puffed me up, they were taken away by the very hand that gave them. So these humbling circumstances were, in the words of another Josh Garrels song from that album, “wounds from a friend, severe mercy.” As I learned, and hope to share in more depth next time, such wounds are only given out of love, only to those whom the Lord cares for enough to discipline (Hebrews 12:6-10, Revelation 3:19). 

Here is another realization that came from this period; If I am not creating, or producing something of value, I despair. If I am not achieving something, or working towards a goal, I worry that my life has no lasting value. So to pretend that my efforts amount to something, I keep a list of every book I read. I watch movies only if they are worth watching (and preferably only if they are on my IMDB watchlist so I can check off one more thing). I’ve never cared for sports trophies that so easily dust, but achievements like internships in high school, career success at a young age, and even the existence of this website were mental belt buckles that my mind had prized and polished again and again.

All this toil. But what does it amount to? In the end, none of these things matter before God. All of them will fade like dust, and be revealed for their selfish motives. Only my position as redeemed in Christ can save me on judgement day. 

“Not what my hands have done can save my guilty soul;

Not what my toiling flesh has borne can make my spirit whole.”

So if my achievements are taken aware, is Christ enough? In him I am to find my identity, not in my position at work. My persona is not to come from being someone who is educated, or artistic, or creative, or sophisticated. My worth is not in my skill at words, or speaking, or understanding, and even the ways that these skills are being used. It is in Christ. 

The words of Jeremiah Burroughs sum up this entire experience well.  “[The Lord] often makes the fairest flowers of man’s endeavours to wither and brings improbable things to pass, in order that the glory of the undertaking may be given to himself.”

The story continues in Pruned and Sustained.

Twenty-Three Years Old

Originally written September 3rd, 2015

"But I trust in you, O Lord;

I say, “You are my God.” 

My times are in your hand"

~Psalm 31:14-15a, 

It was a year of struggles and disappointments, cutting deeper and longer than any I've felt before.

It was a year of yearning and waiting, being taught to trust the hand of the One Who works all things.

It was a year of growth and endeavours, quiet and unlooked for, sweet in their steadiness.

It was a year of goodness in the Gospel, of tasting that which is yet unseen.

And so I'm being conformed to the image of His Son, for in Him is the consolation of every heartache and the aim of every endeavour. He winds them all that they may spin to showcase Him. And in Him I am satisfied.

Twenty-Three Years Old.

An Exposition of Mark 4:35-41

During the summer of 2015, I took part in a course held at my church called Understanding God's Story. Its goal was to teach the basics of biblical hermeneutics, a fancy word for understanding what a passage of the Bible means and how to apply it to our lives. As an assignment, we were given a short story from the Gospel of Mark and were asked to prepare a Bible study or talk unpacking the passage's context, message, and application. 

It was satisfying to take a passage of Scripture I have heard or read a hundred times and get under its skin and better understand what it was trying to say. I thought it would be fun to post the finished results here. (The picture I included because it's kind of epic and comes from my childhood picture Bible.)

“On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” And leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. And other boats were with him. And a great windstorm arose, and the waves were breaking into the boat, so that the boat was already filling. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion. And they woke him and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. He said to them, “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?” And they were filled with great fear and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”          

~Mark 4:35-41 (English Standard Version)

From the very first phrase of this story, “on that day, when evening came”, we are forced tounderstand its context. Which day is Mark referring to? The author, in his quick-paced, fast-cut storytelling, makes it tricky to discern when exactly this day began, but a glance back through Mark 4 tells us that Jesus, after a busy season of miracles and interactions, had spent the day teaching to a very large crowd gathered around the sea of Galilee, followed by private explanations of these teachings to his disciples. That day has now ended and Jesus is clearly exhausted, so he asks his disciples to take him across the sea in their boat. As professional boatsmen, the disciples set about this ordinary task, allowing the exhausted Jesus time for some much-needed sleep on the boat's cushion (probably a heavy basalt-type bag). 

Sudden windstorms are common on the Sea of Galilee and one quickly appears. The disciples would have been used to such waves, but this storm quickly grows beyond their control. They are now fearing for their lives. Waking Jesus from his deep sleep, they accost him in verse 38 (“Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”) There is sense of irony to this accusation. Isn’t Jesus a guest in their boat? Aren't they the professional sailors? Yet here they are, demanding from their passenger perhaps not a solution, but least some wakeful sympathy.

Jesus wakes up and “rebuked the wind and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!”  The word “rebuke” is an odd one to use in this context. One rebukes a child who is acting immature in front of dinner guests, not the wind and the sea for showing their power. The word used here means to “express strong disapproval of someone; to warn.”  It is as if Jesus were the master of an estate chiding his dogs after they’ve terrified his guests. “Be quite! That will do!”. Once ferocious, the animals are now in submissive control.  And indeed, at Christ’s command "the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.” 

“Calm” is an appropriate phrase to describe what must have followed. One can almost picture the silence in that moment; the crashing waters slowly returning to an evening ripple, the boat’s wild plunging replaced by a gentle rocking; the disciples catching their breaths and then staring wide eyed at their master who now asks a simple question. “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?” 

By asking these two questions Jesus seems to imply that the disciples should have known that he had this power and should have trusted who he is. Why should the disciples have known this? Specifically, why does Jesus use the word “still”? Flipping back through the earlier chapters of Mark, we see that Jesus had already revealed his wisdom and authority through his preached word, by healing many who were sick, and by casting out many demons (whom he warned not to reveal his true nature). And regularly Jesus would hint at his identity, most clearly in the healing of the paralytic in Mark 2. We are still four chapters away from Peter’s definite statement that Jesus is “the Christ, Son of the Living God”. But Jesus has already revealed his power.

Jesus’ rebuke in verse 40 implies that the disciples were missing something. Taking a closer look at the long portion of Jesus' words that precedes this story, we see Jesus explaining to the crowd, then in fuller detail to his disciples, the nature of the kingdom of heaven. Again and again he talks about hearing; “listen!” in verse 3, “he who has ears to hear, let him hear” in verse 9, “hear the word” in verses 16, 18, 20, and “pay attention to what you hear” in verse 24. The definitive statement is to his disciples in verses 11 and 12: “To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside everything is in parables, so that

“they may indeed see but not perceive,

and may indeed hear but not understand,

lest they should turn and be forgiven.”

With this context in mind, how can we interpret the disciples's behaviour? They have been around Jesus enough to see his power and authority. They have been chosen by him and are committed to following him. During their time of teaching on the shore of Galilee they were warned to pay attention, but when on the surface of that sea they did not see, or remember, in Whose presence they were in. They saw but they did not perceive. 

This awakened realization is driven home by the next sentence. “And they were filled with great fear and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’” Earlier the disciples were described as “afraid”, using a word which means “lacking confidence, cowardly, timid.” Now, in the safety of the tamed environment they are filled with “great fear” (meaning “the product of an intimidating/ alarming force”) because of their new understanding that this man in their presence rules and controls the wind and the sea. 

Later the disciples and those around Jesus would learn more reasons to fear him. There will also be more examples of how the disciples would continue to “see but not perceive” whom they were with and the purpose for which he was amongst them. But in this story, Mark’s point is clear. The disciples who spent time with Jesus heard but did not understand. It wasn't until they saw his supernatural power their eyes were opened and they were very afraid.

What application is there for us today? I think we learn to believe, fear, and trust.

We see that belief requires more than just hearing. The disciples were exposed to Jesus day in and day out, yet even after his teaching they failed to understand who he was. Do we, who are exposed to Jesus’ words again and again, believe and understand? Do we recognize this distinction and how it applies to both our lives and the lives of those with whom we share God's Word?

We also see that the proper response to the presence of God amongst us is fear. Do we fear the God who rules this world more than we fear this world that he rules? 

Despite his followers's lack of faith and despite his power, Jesus cared for his disciples and calmed the storm. As his followers, do we trust him in ways the disciples did not? Since he has opened our eyes and given us a new nature enabling believe, let us trust him and fear not. As it says in Romans 8:15: “For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear [the same word used in Mark 4], but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’”

Travels 2015: Bicycle Rights!

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 October 21st, 2015.

After spending a frustrating couple hours maneuvering Portland’s transit system I decidedthat waiting at bus stops was not why I was here and that there were better ways to experience this city than from the bus window. So after dropping off my bags at my AirBnB, I took the bus all the way back downtown to the catch the only bike rental shop in the city still open that night. I arrived at my journey’s weary end, walked up to the counter, and asked for “one bicycle, for three days please.” 

“Sorry buddy,” said the young and friendly attendant. “You chose the very worst day of the year. Tomorrow is Bridge Peddle and every single bike in the city is rented out.” At least he was friendly, and suggested an app that was the “AirBnB of bike rentals”. In a last ditch effort to find a ride for the next morning, I texted my AirBnB host. Perhaps they had a bike I could borrow?

“Yes, you could borrow our Schwinn in the garage.” came the unexpected reply. “Just head down the hallway, descend the basement steps, take the red door on your right, screw in the lightbulb, find the bike and helmet, and then leave using the rolling garage door. Oh, and watch out for the cat.”

The bike was far classier than I expected and far smaller than it should have been for my 6.3” frame. It was a great, if sweaty, way to experience Portland. I almost got killed or arrested several times, until I discovered bike lanes and Google Maps cycling directions. How I must have looked struggling away on such a small bike! Especially on the day I tried to transport a box of pastries.

I was on my way to visit Humble Beast’s studios in the far-off suburb of Fairview and thought I would bring a gift of a box of delicious pain au chocolate’s, picked up at the local authentic French pastry shop. Since I planned on taking the bus, there was no need for the paper bag they offered me, so I took the bright yellow box loaded with goods and made my way to the bus stop. But despite my well-timed itinerary, the bus had already left. No worries; I would simply follow the bike route to the metro station. Over rolling, leafy hills, past homes and schools, over freeways and down staircases I bike, controlling the brake peddle with my left hand and holding the yellow box of pastries with my right. I got a few strange looks, but hey, this is Portland!

A sketchy elevator ride to the metro ride and a bus journey later, I had only a short hill to descend until I arrived at the studio. As soon I pushed off, I released something was amiss. During the buss ride the single piece of scotch tape holding the folded box together had burst and its origami design fell apart in my arms, croissants flying and falling. I swore to myself, quickly braked, and gathered what I could. Only two had hit the dust, I noticed as I looked up the hill behind me. These pastries weren’t cheap. Should I not stop and retrieve them? 

My mind made up, I retraced my steps, but just then a truck rolled over the crest of the hill, its tire track aiming straight for my pastry. I cringed, but was powerless to stop it. That Pain au chocolate was squished flat as any roadkill. 

They guys at Humble Beast said they never had a guest bring such tasty treats. They didn’t noticed I brought one short of a dozen.

View fullsize

View fullsize

Travels 2015: Cello from Portland

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 August 12th, 2015.

The first photo isn't the best from my day with Humble Beast, but it captures my experience well. Here I am observing, mostly from a distance, the joy and grind of intense creative collaboration (in the picture are Odd Thomas and JGivens, discussing the excitement of their plans for an upcoming music video release) while awkwardly surrounded and feeling slightly in the way (as represented by the basketball game going on in front and around me).

What can I say? I so admire the work that Humble Beast is doing from a creative and ministry standpoint, but then on a personal level their music has meant so much to me. It truly has been used by God! (I’m tearing up as I write these recalling stories of how God has used them.) They are heroes, and performers, and public figures.

And then today found me running on a quarter tank with energy, after yesterday’s excitement and its resulting very poor night's sleep. So I felt like I wasn't on my best, that I missed opportunities - to take photos, to ask questions, to learn more, and get more involved.

But still. These guys were very generous with their time, privacy, space, and resources. They grind so hard! Such intensity! It's incredible, actually. They take this so seriously, with such craft, and with the weight of the gospel and its implications evident in their attitudes and the use of their time. It was such a joy to be there and see it all. And several of the team members really took the time to share with me and become my friends. Even the rest of the crew, despite in their busyness, were hospitable and offered wisdom and advice when they could. I'm so grateful and sincerely hope I can do more with them in the years ahead.

And hopefully I can share more of this experience soon.

View fullsize

View fullsize

Travels 2015: The Reason I Came to Portland

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 August 10th, 2015.

I've been following the work of The Bible Project for some time and today their team was gracious enough to welcome me into their studio. They allowed me to observe their collaboration, and we shared many long conversations on the church in Portland and the creative process. I ate lunch with Tim Mackie (while interviewing him), and got career advice and a long list of recommended reading from Jon Collins. Wow!

I was afraid to admit it (as I thought it this kind of experience would never happen) but doing this was exactly why I traveled to Portland. God is so kind.

(In fact, the way he has encouraged me these past weeks - through my sickness, my sin, books I've read, sermons I've livestreamed, services I've attended, and conversation with new friends here in Portland - is astounding. Remember these moments, Daniel. Remember his faithfulness, even when the way is dark and uncertain.)

Stay tuned! I hope to share lots more from this experience soon.

Travels 2015: A Tale of Two Churches

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 August 9th, 2015.

After two weeks of streaming Calvary Grace services while island bound, it was a treat to attend two church services this morning.

I'd heard of Door of Hope through Josh Garrels (who's an elder there) and Tim Mackie (the pastor who taught this morning and who is largely known through his work at The Bible Project). A highlight of that visit was the excellent music, particularly singing favourite songs of my own and being introduced to new songs written by them. It was a joy to worship with such a packed congregation of all ages (this picture was from the comparatively sparse early service). The circumstances of our sanctification seems similar, despite the distance between our cities.

The very first time I came to Calvary Grace, Trinity Church of Portland's pastor Art Azurdia was preaching. His church is also the home of Humble Beast. The gospel was proclaimed during the service I attended with powerfully articulated gratitude. Oddly enough, both sermons this morning m were specifically encouraging for my situation, speaking to my impending fears and uncertainties.

I was particularly encouraged by my long chat with a new friend, Josh Hill. Hearing his story of how God burst his bubbles of pride one-by-one while simultaneously being extraordinarily led to his current ministry was like comparing study notes from two students with the same teacher.. God doesn't waste anything, despite the frustration of my current round-about, circuitous trials.

And speaking of round-about and circuitous trials, that describes my evening on the streets of Portland. Literally. Walking in. Circles. My aunt might be a Canadian orienteering champion, but send this boy into a foreign environment and Maps or now Maps,  I am as confused as ever. Maybe that's my just judgment after joining the hoards of grease-worshiping-Americans navigating the round-about and circuitous lineup for a Voodoo doughnut (worth it!) Other observations from Portland:

• Everyone other male here has a moustache. Old guys. Young guys. Even video game geeks.
• Portland is in the middle of a heat wave which means there are lots of sweaty miserable looking bearded men around.
• I too was hot and sweaty. Just not bearded. Didn't need that help.
• I was given plenty of moments to yell "bicycle rights!" and "pedestrian rights!”
• Both churches had excellent coffee (INCLUDING DECAF!). Trinity even served custom Cemex pour-overs. Calvary Grace, it is time to up our game!

Stay tuned for more updates. I'm pretty excited for what is planned these next two days. Pray these opportunities be used well!

View fullsize

View fullsize

Travels 2015: Pacific Central Station Evacuation

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 August 8th, 2015.

I'm assuming the fire alarm and evacuation at the stately and beautiful Pacific Central Station here in Vancouver means my trip to Portland is off to a great start? This fireman just pulled out an axe with a flourish, like some Viking warrior arming for pillage - and then promptly dropped his helmet on the asphalt while his colleague laughed at him.

My evening with Brandon last night was great fun. We ate sausages, smoked pipes, and discussed both the Book of Kells and the book of Leviticus.

I can't wait for Portland! I have some exciting meetings to look forward to.

Travels 2015: A Hornby Island Reader

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 August 7th, 2015.

As I shared my summer reading list with my family, I was asked "how much time are you actually planning on spending with us?" (Which isn't fair. They spent just as much time reading as I did. You should see the stack of booksIlona brought!) But true to form, the books along the left ('Select Letters of John Newton', a largely wishy-washy book by Annie Dillard, and 'A Brief History of Thought' [which Tim Keller calls "the one book to read to understand culture"]) have all been untouched. I'll probably get started on one or two of them as I travel.

On my iPhone you'll see an audiobook of Wendell Barry's 'Jayber Crow'. It's been a delightful listen, a story of a small town barber that's full of very real characters, well turned phrases, and an understanding of the human heart that progresses along with the story. It's accompanied many an ocean walk these past weeks.

Tim Keller's book on prayer is almost a compilation of thinking and advice on prayer from throughout church history. Very practical. And every vacation for the last six years has included at least one P. G. Wodehouse. They are the perfect summer combination of witty brilliance and mindless fun.

But my true Honby companion has been 'Music at Midnight', John Drury's fine biography of the English poet-priest George Herbert. It's a guide to bot his life and his poetry. Herbert's richly Reformed Anglican faith was actualized through struggle that resulted in some of the finest poetry in the English language. It was a joy to unpack its depth. It was also fascinating to uncover his life; he has an ambitious and successful academic career in Cambridge before poor health and inner turmoil brought him to lead a humble life as a village parson. I was struck by the way his struggles found their purpose through his writings, which tooka life of their own after Herbert's death, encouraging and building up many, many readers. It was a reminder to persevere in faithfulness, trusting that through Christ we will bear fruit, despite what we may or may not see today.

I hope you enjoy the series of pictures of the various vantages I viewed with this volume in hand.

P. S. Coffee Update: My aunt, who came up by car to visit us for the week, was kind enough to purchase a Moka espresso pot on my behalf, as well as pick up a bag of Fernwood decaf. How kind! My coffee drinking is restored.

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

Travels 2015: Notes from the Hornby Island Festival

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 August 4th, 2015.

Hornby is home to a thriving and varied community of artists, and one manifestation of this influence is the annual Hornby Island Festival. Despite the small size of the island and the family feel to the festival, the event has become a bit of a legend in the world, classical, and folk music scenes, having featured world-renowned artists. I'll never forget Colin Carr's two night performance of the complete Bach's cello suites several years ago.

This year all of the performances I attended were at The Farm, which is first seen at the bottom of winding road that begins high above on a steep escarpment. One then follow’s the road down, onto a gravel driveway decked with colourful flags. The farm's fields roll towards the ocean and are scattered with ancient oak, arbutus, and chestnut trees. The evening sun illuminates two giant maple trees, reminiscent of Bilbo's "party tree", under which the stage and seating are set up and from which giant spotlights are hung.

Only my parents and I attended the first event, a symphony orchestra. My grandfather bought the tickets but made the uncharacteristic decision not to come. "I refuse to attend outdoor symphony events. The symphony belongs indoors" he declared. That was a mistake, for he would have become best friends with the little spirited Irish conductor, who has taught and performed around the world and received a medal of honour from the Queen. (Both he and my grandpapa remind me of Bilbo Baggins in their age, stature, charm, and significance.)

After several satisfactory Mozart and Hyden pieces, the evening proceeded with a performance of Vaughan Williams 'The Lark Ascending’. It is a performance I will never forget. I was introduced to the piece through a David Crowder album, but until now have never heard it live. The sun was setting, the moon was rising, and the soloist, a lovely 20 year old fiddle protégé named Ceilidh Briscoe, stepped onto the stage.

To try describe the music that followed would be futile. Instead I'll just quote the poem that accompanies the music. Imagine music that supersedes these words in grace, poignancy, and tenderness.

He rises and begins to round,
He drops the silver chain of sound,
Of many links without a break,
In chirrup, whistle, slur and shake.
For singing till his heaven fills,
‘Tis love of earth that he instils,
And ever winging up and up,
Our valley is his golden cup
And he the wine which overflows
to lift us with him as he goes.
Till lost on his aerial rings
In light, and then the fancy sings.

My dad is not one given to displays of emotion, but the moment she finished playing he leapt to his feat, applauding, something I've never seen him do before. Both Mum and I joined him on our feet immediately after, followed by the rest of the audience. Dad told Ceilidh later that it had been a long, long time since he's heard that piece performed with such justice. (The composer, it turns out, was good friends with my dad's grandmother and composed a piece for her family to perform in Trinity College, Cambridge.)

The black and white photos are from last night's family fiddle dance. It featured one of the best fiddlers in the world, Pierre Schryer, joined by a first class Irish uilleann pipe player. It was such a treat watching the two of them perform together, effortlessly passing their ideas back and forth with joy and humour. Then the chairs were cleared away, the evening light was replaced with the light of the lamps that hung in the trees, and all the families, couples, strangers, and friends joined together for several hours of called English dances. Such rare fun. It brought everyone together. Imagine your dancing partner being, in turn, your sister, your mum, your auntie (who's teaching you the moves as you dance), a lady who could well be your grandmother (whom my mum dragged in from off the sidelines to join our family), and finally a little twelve year old girl who's shyness blossomed into a big smile as I give her a surprise twirl as we dance our waltz under the trees.

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

Travels 2015: Shellfish Food Poisoning Is a Horror.

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 August 1st, 2015.

Since Grampie wasn't going to help me finish those remaining two dozen oysters, I thought had better get cracking and slurping. But were they still good to eat? "Check with Mum" was the advice given; after all, one doesn't cook for 30 people on a cross-Pacific-tropical-voyage-sans-refrigeration without developing a certain authority in these matters. She sniffed and felt the beasts and gave her okay, but just to be on the safe side I opted for frying them instead of eating them raw.

So I shucked the beauties (lots of work), and then made homemade breadcrumbs (more work), then breaded them (ahem, work, work, work), and waited for them to chill (an evening swim at the beach killed the time). My family watched the whole process, with cautious comments, while eating their leftover roast beef. Smart family.

They didn't quite taste right. Slightly bitter. And they looked a bit like fried chicken embryos. So after eating a couple I tossed the rest. Good thing it was before my agèd grandfather arrived in the kitchen hoping to give them a taste.

For all that wretched evening I slept very little, otherwise occupied in depositing every bit of food and liquid from my digestive track into the toilet bowl. I moaned and groaned, trying to match my melody with the beat of my twisting stomach (which was trying to replicate the stormy waters of the Sea of Galilee). Any drop of water I dared swallow was rejected with a vehemence, until my mum was calling the island nurse and speaking words like “intravenous tubes".

But the stomach relaxed after the food gave way and no rides to the mainland were needed. I slept all the next day, and all the next evening, and read in a hammock all the day following. While I was grieved to give up my precious holiday, I did ask myself "are there worse places to read than under an Arbutus tree, refreshed by the sea breeze?" And I remembered my pastor Gavin's story from his recent vacation and knew that I too was learning to trust and give up control. My rest is not my god.

P.S. Because my sleep cycle is now null, I spent last evening listing to Wendell Berry on audio book before finally walking down after midnight to the full-moon-lit-sandy-beach. I don't do this every night, folks. Just once in a blue moon.

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.