What if I stumble?

I have the awesome privilege of preaching this sunday at Abundant Life, the local assembly I'm a part of. I'm stoked, mainly because I love having conversations about God and faith and life, and I hate being interrupred or ignored. Preaching is a good way for at least one of those to happen.

In all seriousness . . . I'm a little scared. It's not the public speaking - I was born to be behind a microphone. It's not that I don't think I'm worthy to be a conduit, a vessel, a prophet. I fully recognize I'm not.

I think it's what preaching means to me, and particularly, what the message that is brewing means if I take it seriously.

What does the Eucharist REALLY mean? What kind of life am I called to? Do I have what it takes to live that kind of life? And slightly more scary - what is the basis I claim to be able to partake of the eucharist? What gives me the right to chose to identify with Christ in a solitary act, but not with my life?

What if I stumble? What if I fall flat on my face after exhorting a congregation to live boldly for the one who boldly gave His life? I don't plan on it, but . . . will I still be loved if I'm not perfect?

Living Loved.

To those who have just had the pleasure of getting to know me within the past 5 months or so, this may not seem so shocking. And perhaps it isn't all that shocking even to those who have known me longer. This last little season ( I love that word for its ambiguous length of time ) of my life has been marked by a lot of hard lessons, especially in the area of relationships. Not with any particular person per se, but more my general approach to them. Lot of learning . . . probably the biggest lesson is learning to live loved.

The reality of who I am from God's point of view is that I'm His son. He loves me. He has never not loved me. None of His actions toward me are motivated by anything other than love.

I can say these words easily, mentally process what the different phrases mean, and even have my emotions stirred by them . . . but to live like it? To live like Yahweh Himself CARES? To live a life that doesn't have to prove its own worth, but can rest in the worthiness that Someone Else declares when He looks at me?

It's tough. I LOVE proving myself. I YEARN for moments when I can show what I'm made of. I LIVE for the times when I'm asked to step up, and am able to do so. I love challenges - sure, I'll bitch and moan like the next guy, but deep down, I secretly dream of moments where my strength, my courage, all that I am, everything with in me is desperately needed. I love coming through, against the odds.

With God's love, I'm not really asked to do anything other than be loved.

Be still, and know that I am God . . .

Which is what I intend to do as soon as I post this - I appreciate moments when I can. True, more often than not I'd rather surround myself with people . . . and perhaps it becomes a salvation of sorts. For in the silence, in the still of night, no matter if you're married, living with someone, or single, at some point, it's just you and Him. What do you say to the One who knows not only what you're going to say, but also what you REALLY mean by it? What do you do with that terrible knowledge that He sees all AND LOVES YOU STILL? What is our response?

And, honestly, why can't You just give me something to DO?

Anytime I've taken the time to just do nothing, to just be still, there is a recharging, refocusing, re-filling up of whatever the substance is that God fills us with. There's something so deep and profound that transpires that I dare not try to use words to convey, for fear of desecrating it. Whatever it is, it makes it a little easier to live loved - not just by God, but by the ones I love myself.

Home . . . .

My mom is coming out to see me this Friday . . . she'll be here for just under a week. So pumped - I love my mom so much. From her reserves of strength that I'm sure she doesn't think exist to her quiet (and sometimes not so quiet) convictions on Who God is and what He is up to, to her ability to speak peace into my chaos, she is wonderful.

My buddy Mike and I had a conversation a few months ago about the theology of place - we were talking about a potential trip to Israel. Though I may be taking liberties with the idea, it got me thinking about just how significant geography is to me, how certain places carry a sense of weightiness because of the significance of what has happened there.

Southern Ontario, for the most part, is a place of shattered dreams and brokenness to me, and so though I spent my formative years there, I am loath to call it home. Calgary is home now due to the fact that I live here, but other than a handful of people who mean the world to me and provide a reason to stay, it's not really home. Owen Sound IS home, as my family is there, but I haven't been for longer than 3 months over the past 5 years.

People make a place home for me. Mike and Trish, Bella, Elena and Eden, Dayna and Asher, Trev and Rachel - these are friends so close they are family. Mom, Kara and Byron, Annalies, Erika . . . they make Owen Sound seem like home whenever I am there.

But for all the depth of human connection, I find my heart yearning for a place that has never been yet, only promised. Some days feel like Superman pining for Krypton - "a home I'll never see". Other days are so transcendent I feel I'm already there.

Until then, I find my home in the hearts of those who I've come to know and love, cherish and treasure, wherever they may be on God's green earth - soon to be restored.

Who Needs Air . . . ?

I long to taste adventure
Like the nature of the Sea
Always moving , always hiding
All the creatures underneath
Singing silent songs of sadness
My heart waits for its chance
To dance upon the ashes of
My burnt up little plans
And I

Stand alone before the night
My nakedness is so clear
In the glow of the moonlight
Life is old
But so short
We are young
We want more


Hey all . . . first verse / bridgey part of a song called Who Needs Air by The Classic Crime. It's been floating around my headspace for a bit this past season. It captures a bit of the heart cry I've got, this almost desperate need to live a life of substance and adventure and meaning and depth. I don't want to live for myself at all - life is SO MUCH BETTER SHARED! My heart DOES long for a chance to dance upon those ashes, to embrace the mystery and ambiguity of life and love and friendships and faith and God. I used to have this whole "knowledge is power" approach to life - if I knew God better, if I knew my own worth, if I knew what it was to have "arrived", if I knew I was financially and relationally secure . . . ad naseum.

But the thing is, the whole nature of life is that we don't know. I don't know what will happen this week. That doesn't mean we adopt some twisted form of fatalism and resign ourselves to a future we can never control; rather, I say rejoice that you can't. Who wants to anyway? It's too safe.

Some reading this may know my own rather deep heartaches and hurts and wounds. If this is you, then perhaps you would expect Greg to want to build those walls around his life, to never let anyone in, to never be hurt again. Follow me on this though - and I could be wrong, so think it through and post a comment. The desire to control the future, which often manifests itself as a manipulating of people , is the exact source of pain that leads to a wanting to control the future, thus avoiding that pain. A bit much?

Let's say you've been rejected by a lover. You promise yourself that that will never happen to you again. You'll never let anyone else hurt you like that as long as you live. You meet someone - they seem wonderful, you hit it off, there's a potential for real and deep relationship. You get scared - what if I get hurt. In a desire to not allow that potential future to happen, you reject your beau. Push him/her away. It doesn't mean you leave them per se, but there are sealed areas of your life they aren't allowed into, no matter how much they have proved they aren't going anywhere. Maybe you do leave them. The wound that you so intensely defend against becomes the wound that you inflict on someone else, all because you want to prevent something that may never happen.

There are other examples, but this will have to suffice for now. Burn up some of your little plans. Embrace the mystery. Let your heart be surprised. And, more than anything, break that cycle of hurt.

Hope . . .

There are seasons in each of our lives - transitional times that, when added together, make up the whole of this human experience. No one remains stagnant their whole life, and if they do, they aren't living much of one (just my opinion. Consider the source here - and yes, I do recognize the simple beauty of a life lived entirely in a 50 km radius of where it began. You can, however, go places without travelling . . . )

We're always changing, being changed, become more of something while being made less of something else. Hopefully it is the loss of a bad habit, a temper, an addiction, etc; hopefully it is also the gaining of a new appreciation for the good in life.

At times, though, the season does not seem so much like winter - a time of relative darkness and a lack of growth - nor does it seem like summer - a time of verdant opportunity and optimism. It isn't even really a season at all. It could best be described as night - the long night of the soul. Brought up by the fading of light in some way, shape or form, be it a loss of a loved one, the breaking of a relationship, the bitter sting of abandonment, the trauma of abuse, the dashing of dreams, or perhaps, a combination of all these, this night threatens to engulf those experiencing it.

In this night, it seems crazy to hope. But what is hope if not the belief that that which is is not final? Let's break it down to something a bit less ambiguous and metaphorical. Someone who has spent any amount of time studying to enter into a particular line of work doesn't do it thinking that they would be a student the whole time - rather, they hope to be gainfully employed in that line of work, or at the very least, not spend the rest of their life locked in the same four walls they now enjoy. The status quo - being a student - is not considered the destination, just part of the journey. There is hope that one day, I will be _______ (insert goal there).

You don't plant a field hoping it all dies. When you first plant anything, there isn't much to see, but you hope that things will happen like they should and that soon, you will have something to show for it - something tangible, real . . . edible.

Day always follows night. It is not foolhardy to hope for day when your soul seems mired in night. And sometimes, if we let ourselves but look up, there is light on display that can only been seen during times of great darkness. Perhaps that's the very reason for the night.

Contentedly restless . . .

Today's picture is from the Great Ocean Road in Australia. I'd love to go - I'd love to go to a lot of different places. Not just physical places either - there are places that I hope my friendships will go (not all do), places that I hope I go on my journey with God (some I don't) and places that I'd love to revisit in time, because from my current perspective, they seem better than perhaps they were.

I love my life. I love waking up every day. I love the rain that's hitting the windows right now, playing its own little song, and I love the roll of thunder that reaches into my soul and touches something deep and fierce and real and dares me to answer back. I love my family, so much. I love my friends - those who I share a particularly close bond with especially. I love the people I work with, I love the people I get to meet each day. I am content.

I'd hate to stay in Calgary the rest of my days. I'd hate to never see the Great Ocean Road, swim in every ocean, walk in a bamboo forest (again!). I'd hate to never see the Southern Cross, the afternoon sky over the Indian Ocean from the coast of Mozambique. I'd hate to never live in Scotland (I'd settle for northern England). I would hate to be stuck.

Though I love my life right now, I would hate it if this was the climax of my story. I would hate to develop a routine, a comfortable life.

I would hate to have gone through this whole thing building for a future that may never happen while never really enjoying the present.

Though I'm sure there are a number of wonderful careers I could take the time to train for and then dedicate most of the rest of my waking life to, I'd rather try for one that allows the freedom my heart so desperately craves.

Though I love my family and friends very much, I fear I may never ever settle down for very long in any one area . . . it's just that there is such a big world out there, and every horizon I see I feel like chasing.

One, however, I cannot ever chase, and it is this horizon that feeds this seemingly irrational sense of urgency I have towards travel and living a full life. I can't go back. I can go forwards and off to the side, but not back. That which I was yesterday I never will be again. I'll never return to an age of relative innocence, nor can I unlearn or un- remember certain things.

I don't want to waste a single second.

But I'm happy enjoying the time that I have where I am.