An Evangelist named Bill

"Listen to the earth, and it will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you.  Which of all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this?"  -- Job 12:7-9

A week ago, i attended the Reel Paddling Film Festival in Waterloo.  This four-year-old event is a wonderful opportunity for anyone who loves to paddle.  Over the course of three hours, seven short films were shown as we were introduced to kayaking around Sicily, whitewater canoeing in Washington, kayak fishing in Chesapeake Bay, and a tragic 'almost crossing' of the sea between Australia and New Zealand.  During the intermission, the owner of the theatre came out to award a few lucky patrons with free passes to the movie "Waterwalker."  I was one of those lucky few.

Last Thursday, I took Nathan (in whom I am aspiring to develop a passion for paddling) and we settled into our seats munching tootsie rolls (Nathan) and licorice all sorts (me).  "Waterwalker" is the final film by award winning, National Film Board photographer, artist, and canoer, Bill Mason.  In the paddling community, Bill is a giant, perhaps THE giant Canadian paddler.  You may know him as the Director of the famous "Paddle to the Sea" about a carved toy canoe and Native paddler which makes its way from the shores of Lake Superior, through the Great Lakes and down the St. Lawrence, documenting both the beauty of the landscape and the tragedy of unfettered industry and her potential for destroying natural habitats.  Bill Mason produced a number of other films and books (Path of the Paddle, Song of the Paddle) as well as landscape art in the style of Group of Seven, still available to purchase (even originals!) at www.redcanoes.ca.  But I digress.

"Waterwalker" opens to Canadian icon (and Christian) Bruce Cockburn, picking and crooning the song he wrote for this occassion "Waterwalker."  The 87-minute film documents Bill's love for Lake Superior and canoeing and the land.  And, in the midst of that, his faith.  At one point he quotes the passage from Job above and invites us to share his very God-given passion for nature and what it can teach us.  And then he laments, (and I quote only roughly here) "It's hard to talk about the intersection of my faith and my love for the  great outdoors.  If I speak to my church friends, they feel I am not explicit or direct enough, and if I talk to my paddler friends, they don't want me to preach.  So I can't win."  And then he chuckles.

"Waterwalker" was described by Bill's daughter Becky (present at the film Thursday and signed a poster which is now hanging in my son's room, all part of my subversive plot to help him appreciate paddling :)), as 'my dad's swan song.'  Swan Songs, according to ancient Greek mythology, are the songs which are song just before death of swans who were mute in life.  While mute swans don't actually sing before they die, the myth is perpetuated so that today a Swan Song is the last expressive effort of a person, both a signal that their death is imminent and a summary of all that was important to them.

"Waterwalker" was Bill Mason's Swan Song.  He did die a few years later of cancer and this film was his last.    The movie summarized what was important to Bill -- Lake Superior, canoeing, his 'Baker' tent, painting, and, interspersed throughout, his faith, mostly by way of biblical quotes.

The end of the film revealed Bill at his imaginative, subversive and evangelistic best.   He begins to tell the story of Jesus and Peter, recorded in Matthew 14:22ff, you know it as the story of Peter walking on the water, and then, as his faith falters, so do his feet and he begins to sink.  Mason ends, with a clear reference to the film's title, by suggesting, "Sometimes, I think we have forgotten to walk on water."

I'm guessing that his church friends, upon seeing this, would have wanted him to go further, make it explicit, talk about how the story of Jesus and Peter is all about faith and that therefore Bill's exhortation for us to 'remember how to walk on water' is actually an invitation to faith.  And, I am guessing that some of Bill's paddling friends might have remarked, as they watched the close of his Swan Song, "there goes Bill again, preaching."  Sometimes you can't win.

In addition to a growing love for paddling, what I (am still) learning from Bill is how to be subversive and effective in sharing my faith.  My guess is that Bill, in helping people nurture a love for general revelation has been the kind of tool in the hands of God which he wanted to be since his early days as a camp leader for Pioneer Camps and InterVarsity Christian Fellowship.  Bill's biographer, James Raffan, knew this well.  Bill's biography, "Fire in the Bones" finds its titles origin in Scripture as well, from Jeremiah 20:9, "His Word was in mine heart as a burning fire shut up in my bones."

Oh, that all our friends could say the same of us, both our church friends and others alike.

Politics

Politics.  I have to admit, I've never been too active in politics, and neither have most people I know.  Which is kind of odd, especially as a Reformed, Calvinist, Kuyperian 'Christ-transforming-culture' Christian.  Maybe it's because my tribe wasn't born in Canada.  Maybe because our church order urges our particular congregations to restrict their activity to things 'ecclesiastical.'  Or maybe it's apathy.  Not sure.
Poli -- the root of politics - is all about people.  As I think about the theme of my sabbatical -- getting to know the people of Cambridge and their impulse for the things of God -- getting involved in politics and meeting the people who want to get put effort into supporting candidates; this fits really well.
I remember when we lived in Grand Rapids, Michigan, Republican stronghold that it is.  We weren't able to vote, but we could put up lawn signs.  Local Republican candidate made the assumption that since our kids went to the same school he could put a lawn sign on our front lawn.  Local Democrat, someone I had respect for, asked if he could.  So we had both.  Our neighbors (they were American neighbors, so no 'u' in neighbor) tried to be helpful and informed us that the two candidates whose signs adorned our yard were actually running against each other.  We replied that we were supporting both.
Last night I attended one of those information evenings.  Andrew Johnson, whose heart and mind I know and would love to see him serve God through politics, is running for the local nomination for the provincial Conservatives.  It's not a lot of involvement on my part, but I made sure that I was signed up as a member as were all my household over the age of fourteen.  All we have to do is sign up and then show up on the morning of April 16th for a real-life party meeting where the candidate will be chosen.  I'll get a chance to not only learn about the process but to involve my children in helping choose a great man to run as the Conservative candidate in the next Provincial election.  For all the time and energy I've invested in helping my children live out a Reformed, Calvinist, Kuyperian, Christ-transforming culture faith, this is probably the easiest and most fun.
So, whether you are in Cambridge and can support this same man, or you are somewhere else and you can prayerfully consider whom you could support there, I urge you, for yourself, your family, and anyone else you can think of, to consider that oft-neglected, oft-scorned, but very real way of being involved in what happens in your own community -- politics.

echoes

Sat in church this morning and heard some echoes.   Echoes of things I've heard before.  Echoes of things that rang true in my own heart.  Years ago, a former Banner editor preached a sermon at my parents church, "Worship God, Love People, Use Things."  The point of that sermon was to not mix up the verbs, to not worship things, use people, or merely love but not worship God.  For years I had a laminated card above my driver door, reminding me of that sermon I never heard but always remembered.  Or, at least I could recite it.
This morning, I heard it again.  Thanks, Jack!  We were encouraged, via Matthew 26, to consider two opposite reactions to Jesus -- Judas, who sold Jesus out; and the woman with the alabaster jar of perfume, who was sold out for Jesus.  One of the things Jack said, or maybe it was the Holy Spirit using what Jack said, I can never be too sure, was that our desire for stuff can get in the way of our love for people.
It was an echo of the retired editor's message.
It was an echo of Jesus, who so loved people - you and me - that he left all the treasures of heaven to pay our debt.
And having done that, invites us, to be echoes of his love -- to let go of our stuff enough that we can embrace others and in doing so, embrace Him.   
cool.

Live Right Now

"Join the Movement - Live Right Now" preach the t-shirts of the staff of the Young Men's Christian Association (you probably know it as the YMCA). The congregation, gathered not on wooden pews but on ellipticals, squash courts, treadmills, free-weights, and BOSU balls, echoes back the gym equivalent of an 'Amen' -- "argh grunt."
Having recently joined this sweaty subculture, I understand the attraction to the message - "Live Right Now" - but I have to say, it is all in how you punctuate it.  "Live right, now" I fully affirm while "live right-now" would need some interpretation before I chimed in an 'amen' - gutteral grunt or otherwise.
"Live right, now" seems to have its emphasis on living right, on taking care of our bodies, on not living wrongly.  The exhortation encourages us to look at everything from sleep patterns, to eating habits, to excercise - and that's just on the physical level.  It's not an interpretive stretch to find application relationally, professionally, psychologically, and in ways not already immediately apparent, spiritually.  This is the same impulse parents are responding to when they sign up their children for soccer, swimming lessons, hockey, dance and Karate.  This is the same driving force behind the work of Activity Coordinators at places like Golden Years and Riverbend.   This is the same message the apostle Paul encourages Christians to adhere to when he reminds that their bodies are temples of God's Holy Spirit.  This is the same impulse I find myself having been created with, an impulse I often argue with, but thankfully one I have been able to cooperate with as of late.  Now, I am living right.
But there is another way of punctuating this brief beseeching - "Live, right-now" that may be at play in some of the YMCA Congregants minds.  The idea being that if you are going to bother living, you had better do it right now because this is the only shot you got.  "Live, right-now" can only be fully embraced in a place that is cut off from the possibility of an after-life, like those folks who stepped into 'Biosphere 2' in Arizona a few years back were cut off from life outside the dome.  This refrain of 'live, right-now' wouldn't have me singing, or if I did, I'd certainly be off-key, assuming it to a more somber minor key than the triumphalism of some of the immediate achievers around me.
The way that Philip Yancey discusses this in his "Finding God in Unexpected Places" resonates with me and makes me wonder if he was on the treadmill beside mine: "It is hard for us to live in awareness of death; it may be even harder for us to live in awareness of afterlife.  We hope for recreated bodies while inhabiting aged and failing ones." and then, reminding us of Paul's words, "Though outwardly we are wasting away [despite all attempts at the Chicago Health Club to reverse entropy] yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day."
In the areopagus, Paul connected with the Epicureans and Stoics by quoting their philosophers.  Today, at the 'Y', I'm guessing that he'd have something to say about the t-shirts of the staff.   And then, I am guessing Paul would have had something inviting to say to the gym-rats, as he urged them outside their dome, echoing Christ, to "join the movement."

...uh, I don't know

So, I was at Best Buy the other day (which turned out not to be the Best Buy because Staples had the printer cheaper) and as I was walking through the wide-screen television section I noticed a guy looking at a 60" LCD.  Pricetag:  north of three grand!  His dear wife, looking a little tired, sidled up to him and said, "We don't need one that big!"  He looked at the ground, then up at the screen, not to his bride, and then his heart spoke.  Well, his mouth spoke, but it was his heart, yearning for something more perhaps, holding out for the possibility that this 60" behemoth, paired with his $100 a month cable package (some parishioners call that amount a 'tithe'), might just be the ticket to deliver him happiness each night as he bowed, er, reclined before it.
So he said, perhaps the Digital Discipleship creed, ".....uh, I don't know."
And somewhere inside I am guessing that he beleived, had faith, that one day he would have it.
Well, except for the happiness.

Hitting Mute

You've done it.  So have I.  Just hit the 'mute' button and the soundtrack is off.  The images continue to fly on the screen but at least there is silence.  It's that easy.  Too bad we don't have a 'mute' button for our brain.  I think that would make things a little easier.
For the past 14 years, ever since I started preaching, I've been looking at life through slightly different lenses -- trying to see where God is at work SO THAT I could communicate this to others.  The practice has become a reflex and has become automatic.  Which is a bit of a problem.  Over the next 117 days (or so), it will be my job to continue to look through those same lenses, but not firstly for the purpose of communicating to others but for the purpose of learning, of listening, and of seeing what I can't yet see.  And to do that, I need to hit my mental 'mute' button and shut off the soundtrack of my voice telling others what I see (except for this blog, of course).
So, next week, a few days of silence.  Hopefully, by entering into a deeper personal quiet, I can find the shut-off switch.  And if not, at least my wonderful wife will be able to have two days free of my whistling, something she has found somewhat annoying since March 1 when my warbling went viral for some reason.