this video, sent to me by my friend mark, blew me away... it's a must see.

been driving the food bank truck today around abbotsford. it's interesting to have homeless people wave at you. cool.

Dallas Willard, author of books about Christian spiritual formation, writes, "We must flatly say that one of the greatest contemporary barriers to meaningful spiritual formation in Christlikeness is overconfidence in the spiritual efficacy of 'regular church services,' of whatever kind they may be. Though they are vital, they are not enough. It is that simple."

This drives pastors crazy because we know it's true.

Regular church services are most of what some churches do. Close to half of my week as a pastor is spent preparing for services. Most congregations structure their buildings around space for services. When we say that we're going to church, we're really talking about attending a service. If we cut back what we do as a church, the last thing we'd ever cut is our regular church service.

For a long time, many of us thought that the world needed better church services. We produced services with better music, drama, and practical sermons. We built our entire evangelistic strategies around getting people to come to our church services. It hasn't worked.

read the rest of darryl's article here.

O Lord, remember not only the men and woman of good will, but also those of ill will. But do not remember all of the suffering they have inflicted upon us:
Instead remember the fruits we have borne because of this suffering—our fellowship, our loyalty to one another, our humility, our courage, our generosity, the greatness of heart that has grown from this trouble.
When our persecutors come to be judged by you, let all of these fruits that we have borne be their forgiveness.

A young Polish prisoner is hanged a week later for stealing during the air raid. The whole camp is marched past the hanged man. Another public hanging, that of a young boy, is botched, and he struggles for more than half an hour. Forced to witness this horror, one inmate asks, “Where is God now?”

"Where is God now?" And I heard a voice within me answer him: "Where is He? Here He is He is hanging here on this gallows. . . . That night the soup tasted of corpses."

elie weisel

this is something i struggle with alot...
To me, the whole Sunday experience is an area that pastors and leaders need to reevaluate. I became tired and weary of trying to evoke a spiritual response from people in this manner. It's no accident that most Sunday services in churches around the world are held in buildings where there is a stage that the pastors lead from and the congregation sits in rows and pews like an audience. Sunday morning is a performance and no different than your local community theater (except often the quality isn't as good). Put simply, if you are a decent speaker and you have a good worship leader you can get people to do almost anything. It’s really like shooting fish in a barrel.

the rest here.

last week i met with a group of 30+ men to talk about grace. there was a situation, details aren't important. one of their group had "lost it". threats were made, words uttered that could not be taken back. angers flared and accusations sprang.

by the time i got there it was apparent the flare had started to wane. so we talked about grace. some people think i'm soft on "sin". i've been accused of giving easy forgiveness. what some people don't really know about me is that i'm theologically more conservative than i care to admit. i am also a strong proponent of the "ramifications of actions". but i also believe in grace. i have been given grace and i want to be a person who can extend it as well. all of us have screwed up - i've done my share, though not near what a few self-indulgent hypocrites love to believe what i am guilty of.

we are a people desperately in need of grace. few of us are not keenly aware of our own shortcomings. you probably don't need to tell me mine, i have a list longer than you have. we don't need to be excused of our personal evil, that we need to repent of. but what we need is grace. we need unconditional love in spite of who we are, not because of what we do. we need to be forgiven, even when we don't know how to ask. we need grace.

grace is not something i can earn. not something i deserve. i thank god he does not treat me like i deserve, because i deserve hell. he treats me like i want to treat others.

there are those out there who are hell bent on retribution. most of them are christians. i myself have lived like that, in days past. but the cost is too high. the bitterness slowly eats away like a cancer and rapes us of our joy. and i'm tired of it.

i'm tired of hating.
i'm tired of wanting revenge.
i'm tired of living in the past.
i'm tired of hanging on to the hate.

i too need grace.

"Merciful Father, I have squandered my days with plans of many things.
This was not among them.
But at this moment, I beg only to live the next few minutes well.
For all we ought to have thought, and have not thought;
all we ought to have said, and have not said;
all we ought to have done, and have not done;
I pray thee God for forgiveness."

-- 13th warrior

three gigs (two fund raisers - thailand house party and blues brunch for the mission crisis line), one funeral, one church service, work at rehab. except for the incident with the knife, the pot, the suicide watch, and the death threats it was a normal weekend.

wednesday nite
kelsey's in langley, 7:30 pm
for anyone interested in creative new expressions of faith communities

i have been frustrated by the sheer volume of churchplanting experts writing books lately. almost without exception these so called "experts" have started one church, yet they are determined to assign universal principals that are applicable to a multitude of situations. all this from a single experience...

if you are a young church planter let me give you some advice:
1. i don't want to read your book about church planting. i am only barely interested in your deep insights about the perils and pitfalls. one church plant does not necessarily a church planter make.

2. wait until you have planted 4 or 5 or 10 churches before you agree to go on the church planting lecture circuit. i have news for you - they are all vastly different. just because you were successful in one scenerio does not mean you can duplicate that. furthermore, and it is never talked about, what "worked" in one situation usually is a catastrophic failure in any other. i have done this more times than i care to mention and i still have no idea what i am doing. nothing pisses me off more than seeing your bio in the latest hip conference because you started a church on a christian college campus and grew to several hundred in the bible belt. i don't care if you fell ass-backward into an amazing situation in seattle. most churches do not get 400 people out just because they sent out an amazing flyer so get over yourself.

3. it's a god-thing. the best advertising, media, staff and parking lot attendants won't make any difference unless god decides to bless you. and frankly, who among us can predict where god will bless. which leads me to my final point...

4. just because your church is successful that doesn't mean you have any right to brag. some of the most highly skilled entrepreneurial planters in the world wash out because of reasons too numerous to mention. if your plant grows to a thousand it's because a) you live in the states or b) god decided to grow it for reasons known only to him. there are tons of great churches led by incredible leaders that will never be asked to speak at the 'flavor of the month' conference.

CBS - Scott Ross—when asked to speak at a certain charismatic church -----“This went on for about half-an-hour or more. There were of course the appropriate sentimental songs, and a big ending with a dramatic chorus that proclaimed that "Jesus was coming soon; maybe even tonight" Then an announcer bounced up to the podium underscoring all this with, "Glory! Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!" He then went on to inform us all how strongly he felt the presence of the Lord and the Spirit in the place. I looked out at a lot of sweaty Christians. Then the speaker launched into a litany of accolades that turned out to be my introduction and he brought me on to a round of applause.
I just sat there. I honestly didn't know what to do. I have attended a lot of rock concerts over the years, and this event reeked of insincere "show biz" to me. I sure wasn't in the same spirit as the folks who had been performing for the last half-hour or so. I glanced down at my wife Nedra in the front row thinking, "Well if God wanted to show me something, I had already seen it and I was ready to go home." But I couldn't. I was on! It was ShowTime!
I stood up slowly and walked hesitatingly to the podium, not sure of what I should do or say, but I can tell you my prayer life increased. For an indeterminate amount of time I just stood there and gazed at the audience and then I found myself saying, "You know folks I haven't been around a meeting like this in a decade or so. And I don't think I've missed a thing."
So much of Christianity is just show time. Go to a charismatic revival and you’ll see it. Listen to benny hinn or any number of tv evangelists, watch ‘it’s a new day’ and you’ll see it – cosmetic Christians who pretend nothing is ever wrong, no one ever pisses them off, no one cuts them off in traffic.

some 1,500 years ago a teenage boy from what is now great britain was kidnapped and enslaved by marauders from a neighboring country.

the invaders came from fifth-century ireland. the teenager they captured eventually escaped, but returned voluntarily some years later. in the meantime, he had become convinced that he was handpicked by god to convert the entire country to christianity. and so he came back to the country that had taken his childhood, to the country that had treated him like a slave. and he gave his life for people who hated him.
he gave his life to people most of us, me included, would probably never be able to forgive. think of the implications.
the people you hate. the kid at school you have swore to beat up. those people who mistreated you. that relative that violated you. that person who has spread malicious gossip about you. living to serve them. to be their slaves. by choice. because you love. because you are willing to sacrifice your life to give those scumbags a better life. it defies all understanding.
it’s the german jew from ww2 who decides to give his life to his former nazi prison guard.
the rape victim who decides to serve their rapist. it’s beyond all comprehension.
it has got to be a god thing.

2 weekends ago at miracle valley a guy asked to talk to me. he needed advice. here was his story...
a few months ago he had been robbed by another addict. his face had been scarred, his body injured and his property taken. but that isn’t the end of the story. that day he had watched as a new client came to the valley, the man who had violated him. that man greeted him upon entering camp, with no recognition. he didn’t know that this was the guy that he had injured, scarred and robbed.
so the injured man sat in my office and told me the story and asked me, hurt in his eyes, “what should I do?”

Three Irish nuns told a priest that they had sinned.
The first nun laughed and said: "I was romantic with a man"
The priest said: “Drink holy water."
The second nun laughed and said: "I was involved in a fight"
The priest said: "Drink holy water."
The third nun laughed even more. "I peed in the holy water"

came home from club tonight and the greatest irish movie, maybe the greatest movie, ever made was on, edited for television.

the boondock saints.

without the swearing it was like 17 minutes long...

first day off in 26 days.

i was going to reno, i was going to clean. i was going to visit. work on club. personal devotional time. vision-casting...

i slept all day.

A friend is the one who comes in when the whole world has gone out. ~Grace Pulpit

I love bloody warfare. I love beautiful women, breasts and sex, I love brotherhood. I love bravery. I love agonizing sacrifice. I love courage. I love leadership that is worth following. I love a good fight and I love a brawl that looks hopeless but is still fought for the sake of honor or what is right. I love truth...when it is shown in beauty and even when it is shown in all its horrid evil.
the rest here.

This test only has one question, but it's a very important one. By giving an honest answer, you will discover where you stand morally.

The test features an unlikely, fictional situation in which you will have to make a decision. Remember that your answer needs to be honest, and spontaneous.

-------------------------
THE SITUATION

You are in New Orleans, There is chaos all around you caused by a hurricane with severe flooding. You are a photo journalist working for a major newspaper and you're caught in the middle of this epic disaster.
You're trying to shoot career-making photos. There are houses and people swirling around you, and disappearing under the water.

===============================================
THE TEST

Suddenly you see a man in the water. He is fighting for his life, trying not to be taken down with the debris. You move closer. Somehow the man looks familiar. You suddenly realize who it is. It's the President, George W. Bush. At the same time you notice that the raging waters are about to take him under forever. You have two options- you can save the life of the President, or you can shoot a dramatic Pulitzer Prize winning photo, documenting the death of one of the world's most famous men.

===============================================
THE QUESTION

Here's the question, and please give an honest answer.......

Would you select high contrast colour film, or would you go with the classic simplicity of black and white?

Summer vacation - you know you pack up the kids and head out. Remember as a kid taking our great big land boat from Winnipeg to Calgary to make the yearly summer trip to grandma and grandpa's house. The car was one of those big camel coloured wagons with fake wood on the side. When I was a kid my grandpa told me that the wood siding was because cops radar wouldn't work on wood. I had issues. The ark car also had the extra seat that faced the back making it so you could seat 9 people if you wanted to. My dad didn't believe in stopping for anything. Straight through - Winnipeg to Calgary in like 14 hours, no potty breaks. My dad used to say, "Scott that's why God created pop bottles son."
That was a rule in our family – no stopping. No breaks. Some of you may have thought it was a stupid rule but it was our rule nonetheless.
When I was in high school I went to boarding school and they had this stupid rule that got me kicked out of high school and sent home – the rule, and it seemed like a dumb one at the time, went like this, “NO SELLING DRUGS IN THE DORMS”. Can you believe it? What right did they have to tell me how to live my life?
Who were they to dictate for me what was right and wrong for me?

“is it ok for you to decide right or wrong for someone else?”

The fact of the matter is we do it all the time. Your school tells you what is right and wrong, your friends decide for you. The television tells you everyday – don’t believe me?
TV – pro choice is right/living together is good/all alternative lifestyles are good/religion is stifling/wealth is good/drugs are cool/drinking is great/have as much sex as you can/don’t let the government control you/question authority/look out for #1 and the list goes on and on.

Any others you can add?

So who are you going to trust? What are you going to believe? You going to decide everything for yourself?
Here’s the question you have to ask though – What if you decide everything for yourself and …. You’re an idiot???

so much of my life is lived in seasons. times of singular duration that seem to pass with little memory. the day to day grind. then there are moments.

i had a few moments today. i got an email from a long lost friend with whom i shared some special canoeing moments, life moments, years ago. moments that defined my early adulthood and linger in my memory.

this morning, approximately 1 a.m., i was driving home from work when i had a moment. i had been attempting to get home for some time now, but the flood plain i was endeavoring to navigate my car over was in full roar, all the roads were closed, and there were lakes and rivers where only a few hours ago there had been roads. i was literally trapped in an area with no where to go, it was dark and raining, a river raging across the roads, and i was in full adrenaline mode. i loved it.

at one point i sought to backtrack, but could only back up through a 1.5 foot stream uphill with no clear idea of where the road was, barely making it. i turned around and later found myself trying to cross a lake/road, the water surging over the hood of the car, the car pushed sideways. then the engine died. at this point i was not sleepy.

somehow the car started again. somehow i pushed a wall of water backwards for a few hundred yards without the car stalling, the muffler full of water. somehow i stayed on the non-existent road. somehow i managed to start the car just before i was pushed off the road. somehow i managed to get home. i loved it (in retrospect).

as i lay in bed annette quietly, in the still of the night, whispered, "i was getting worried about you, how was your shift?". i lay there, trying not to levitate off the covers, trying to calm myself. i mentioned it was a little wet on the road, or something, then admitted it was a bit hairy but would tell her later.

well honey... now you know.

my apologies for not blogging much this past month or so. ordinarily i am a fairly voracious blogger, often spending an inordinate amount of time surfing the web. but lately, with the invasion of the real world, i find i am unable to be creative and poignant (like i ever was). i can think of a few reasons. first i am no longer paid to study and surf. i no longer enjoy that professional luxury and have to read and think on my own time. Secondly i am holding several jobs at the same time and they tend to consume, along with family life, every spare moment of every day.

on a lighter note we studied the maccabees in a bible study last night. very refreshing.

i used to work for YFC as a wilderness guide - i got paid to whitewater canoe all summer. it was the greatest job in the world.

i wish i could say i got the job because i deserved it, but in point of fact i grotesquely lied in order to get hired. i was very young and needed the work. to say i padded my resume would be an understatement.

it is a testimony to my capacity for lying that i got a job leading youth on wilderness trips when in fact i had little or no real experience in nature. it reminds me of a short story by mark twain about the guy who went from career to career as people found out he was not trained in surgical technique, or firefighting, or microbiology. he did well, until he was discovered. i was never discovered, and did not not always do well.

my mind goes back to one fateful day on nipew lake. i managed to miss an inlet on the eastern side of the lake and led 24 people down the wrong inlet; a mistake that cost us virtually an entire day and much of my reputation. to this day i will maintain, if pressed, that the compass must have been errant. you know - sunspots or moonbeams or somesuch. it's easy to lie.

it's easy to stretch the truth to support my already suspect argument. often i will delve into my seemingly vast knowledge of useless information and pull out a suspicious nugget in order to back up an already spurious argument. it's all about winning. it's all about power. the power to be thought well of, the power to persuade, the power to feel justified.

Many people, myself among them, spend far too much time trying to justify their position or lifestyle. we maintain a long litany of information specifically to support our 'grey area' decisions. i am as guilty as most. i find it far easier to excuse my own behavior than deal with it.

it is humiliating to put a clear mirror to our motivations and actions.

from "alexander the great's art of strategy"

india's fight against britain, the way gandhi positioned it, was a fight against economic oppression. winston churchill, who could never figure out a way to negotiate with him because his positions were unflinching and nonnegotiable, ended up calling him unfortunate names like 'seditious fakir.' even his close friends and associates, like india's first prime minister would often be at a loss to get him to back down from a stand, even when backing down might ease the process of arriving at a solution.

on top of all these gandhi possessed an exemplary sense of surprise and timing. no one could predict when he might pick up salt at a beach in india and launch a movement for the repeal of the highly exploitative salt act, which forbade indians to buy salt from anywhere outside of a british-government-regulated store. or, when his followers went on a rampage against policemen who had fired on an unarmed procession, gandhi immediately denounced the killing of the policemen and went on a fast to seek penance for the horrible act his followers had committed. through his personal sacrifices and actions, gandhi knew, he could prevail on his followers to recognize and believe in the basic decencey of the human spirit.

He was removed from his family when he was 4, and placed in a residential school. His family didn't visit him for the first year, and came occasionally after that. He was denied practising his First Nations culture and had to comply with the system.
When he was 12 he went to juvenile detention for a minor crime. If he was your kid he probably wouldn't have gone there, but because the residential school didn't want a fire-starter, he became a ward of the state and spent 3 years in juvie. At 17 he went to prison for stealing a car with some buddies, to take a joy ride into town. At 25 he was briefly released, then was returned for theft. He is still in prison, except for this past year in recovery where he is monitored and not allowed on out-trips. He is 54 years old.
more here.

next greenhouse - thursday march 29 at 7:30, location TBA

confidence... at least that is how it looked to a casual observer. a steely determination to self-promote, to impress.
i sat across from an addict that wondered if they should go to rehab. They had “plans” to work out, they knew they needed help but wanted me to know they weren’t like those “junkies” who really need rehab. were there other “not losers” in rehab he could hang around with? I told him not to bother, he wasn’t going to make it.
i was sub-consciously thin-slicing. if you have read ‘blink’ by malcolm gladwell you will understand the terminology. a few moments, first impressions, a few probing questions, an assessment. don’t bother.

any serious addict in recovery will tell you that the process will take you further than you want to go and ask from you more than you are probably willing to give. the statistics of successful recovery are dismal. i wonder if this is partially because recovery is incredibly humiliating – humiliating on a scale that most people may believe they understand but cannot. the addict in true recovery is asked to do things, experience things, admit things that few of us would be willing to submit to. i work every weekend with 150+ addicts. it is almost sad how, after a while, i can almost predict who will make it, who will not.

for a few years now i have been in recovery, again. this time not from cocaine (thank god) but from my ego, myself, my reputation. my pride. i have asked myself to go further than i have been willing to go - to do more than i want to do. i have come to realize how utterly egotistical i am, how driven by others i have allowed myself to become. in the dark nights i have had to admit to myself how powerless i am over my own addiction - the addiction to my own selfishness. i cannot seem to let go of the past, largely because i cannot accept that i cannot change it. i want things to be one way, and belligerently refuse to live in the 'now'. i am childish. i am hurt. but i am also tired of the childishness and the pain. i recognize it in others and belittle it, only to find i am more guilty, less mature. i despise "whiney" people - i am a whiney person.

as a believer in jesus christ i do believe in forgiveness, in the miraculous transformation of self. i also believe in the pain of reconstruction, of deconstruction. they call it recovery for a reason.
one day at a time.

apparently my blog is blocked in china.

I had dinner last night with three guys. They were talking about their best dumpster diving meals. I sat there and listened as they guys talked about how great it was to find half a sub sandwich in a dumpster, wipe it off and feast. And I thought to myself…. I’m such a baby. An ungrateful, affluent, stuck up, whiny baby…

I sat and talked to a record producer who used to work with Brian Adams and BTO. We sat in rehab and he told me how he put it all; his career, his woman, his music studio, his record label, his platinum and gold records, in a crack pipe and smoked it all away. And I thought to myself… I’m such a baby. An ungrateful, affluent, stuck up whiny baby.

I am so blessed. So lucky. Have so much but am thankful so little.

It’s so easy, isn’t it, to only see the bad stuff. To wonder why we don’t have more, when we don’t really deserve what we have.

a couple of months ago somebody asked me why i hate church. i was moderately shocked that they would believe such a thing, wondered why they would get that impression. they mentioned this blog. apparently, all i do is criticize the church, and their church in particular. some people have accused me of being hard on my last church. those who know me know that i am still in love with that church, my sons are in leadership there. it has some problems - most of which i caused.

some time ago i wrote a series of articles on things i have learned since leaving the formal ministry. i said things like - pastors don't work as hard as they whine about. subtle, non-controversial statements like that. i got mail from pastors accusing me of accusing them of being lazy. and like most pastors they had a litany of complaints about how overworked they were. i talked about living in the real world, about how impossible it is for career clergy to understand the struggles of normal people. i mentioned how tough it was to make church commitments now that i don't get paid to go. i do not talk out of theory. i have been a pastor for 21 years.

what some people didn't understand was that most of the time i was talking about my own personal struggle. it was far more narcissistic than may have been apparent. i don't hate the church. i happen to think it has some inherent problems and is somewhat sociologically irrelevant. the music is horrible and the ministers speak too long, but i love the church.

i do not know if i will ever attend church on a sunday morning on a regular basis again. that time of the day no longer works for me, i like laying in bed and going to brunch far too much. it is my only day off and there are too many chores on the waiting list.

a good friend recently told me that i can be "prickly". some people have described it as "asshole". i tend to be too opinionated, too controversial. some are quick to take offense and render conclusions. what some people don't realize is that under the veneer i am a total wuss. though i may be overtly opinionated i still wonder if people like me, i still battle with insecurity, although not as much as i once did.

i don't hate the church, even if some of the people there are psycho.