I had the opportunity to hear Dr. Rodger Nishioka, of Columbia Theological seminary speak. Dr. Nishioka had a number of interesting things to say (if you get the chance to hear him, go. You won’t be disappointed!). We were looking at the story of Jesus as a boy in the temple (Luke 2:41-52). When Mary and Joseph finally found Jesus (who had been misplaced), he was in the temple teaching the teachers. And when they asked him what he was doing he said, “don’t you know I must be in my Father’s house?”

Dr. Nishioka pointed out that this is where all of Jesus’ trouble began. This is how he upset and enraged the priests of his time. Because he characterized his relationship with God as personal. Good Jewish boys didn’t do that. In the cutler of the time, you weren’t allowed to speak God’s name. Never mind call him “father.”

But I am so thankful that Jesus did just that. I am so thankful that he changed the way we see God. I am so glad that as Christians we can write (admittedly corny) songs that say things like “and he walks with me and he talks with me…” Because we know a God who does just that. Who walks and talks with us. Who suffers with us. Who rejoices with us. Who hurts when we hurt. Who laughs when we laugh.

Our relationship with God is personal. It is not meant to be something we hold at arm’s length. It is meant to be intimate – God has seen us at our best and he’s seen us at our worst and he’s loved us at each of those extremes and at all points in between. It’s personal. He knows everything that makes us who we are. He knows very part of us – mind, body and spirit.

During Lent, take the pulse of your relationship with God. Are you holding him at arm’s length? Is there something you need to have a long, soul-bearingly honest talk with God about? Is there something for which you need to ask his forgiveness or permission? It’s personal and he cares.

O Lord, you have examined my heart
and know everything about me.
You know when I sit down or stand up.
You know my thoughts
even when I’m far away.
You see me when I travel
and when I rest at home.
You know everything I do.
You know what I am going to say
even before I say it, Lord.
You go before me and follow me.
You place your hand of blessing
on my head.
Psalms 139:1-5 NLT

How simple is that? So simple. And yet, it’s something we struggle with. How many hours or how many days might go past before we think about God, never mind do something to draw closer to him?

Sometimes life is just busy and in the midst of trying-to-get-it-all-done we forget what we were made for. We were made for relationship with God. We were made to walk with him daily. But sometimes we forget that. Sometimes we get a little lost.

The good news is that though we might lose focus, or lose our way, God never stops being there for us. His patience never ends. He is waiting for us when we turn back to Him.

During this season of Lent, as we draw ever closer to the life-changing, paradigm-shifting, spirit-renewing events of Holy Week, may we each find a way to do something that draws us closer to God. Each day. Every day.

The lord is close to all who call on him, yes, to all who call on him in truth.
Psalms 145:18 NLT

During Lent at St. A’s, we have been working our way through the story of Jesus. It is – as I said on Sunday – both simple and complex. Simple in the sense that we know this story, we know where to go to find it and the events are familiar to us (though, hopefully, we are able to approach them with fresh eyes each time). And yet, it is complex because the story is big – bigger than any other story we tell. There is so much to say and to understand about it. One can spend their whole life studying it and not arrive at the moment of being done with that task.

This series and the release of some Biblically based movies (both Son of God, and Noah – though some would argue that Noah is more midrash or Kaballah based than Biblically based) , have had me thinking a lot about story recently. Then I spent this evening listening to Stuart MacLean (of Vinyl Cafe fame), tell stories on stage at Brampton’s Rose Theatre.

The idea of story – its purpose, its execution, its attractiveness – is one I’m not able to escape from these days. And to be fair – I wouldn’t want to, even if I could. I have always loved stories. From the time my parents read Arch Books to my brother and I when we were very young. When we got a little older, our Dad would read us novels a chapter at a time before bed (that’s how I first encountered The Lord of the Rings and Narnia). When we grew even older, Mom and Dad encouraged my brother and I to read by allowing us to earn money for the books we read (the rate was $1 for every hundred pages…that was the summer my brother discovered Peirs Anthony’s Xanth series. There were, at the time, about 18 novels in the series and they were all 300 pages plus. Mom only did that for one summer. 🙂 ).

Story has always been incredibly important to our family. Dad and I were both English Majors before we were Seminary students.

So approaching the Bible as a story comes quite naturally to me. This story is about what it means to be human and what it means to be divine. It’s about life, and how to live it well. It’s about some things that happened a very long time ago, but still influence events today. And it’s about the fact that God’s story hasn’t ended. It contours to be written through us – those who love God and seek to live in ways that honour God.

During Lent, may you hear anew the life changing story of God’s love for humanity. May you hear the details you already know in ways that surprise and excite you. May you know that God’s story is also our story. May you find that God is writing something beautiful through your life as the story continues.

For God is working in you, giving you the desire and the power to do what pleases him.
Philippians 2:13 NLT

When I was in University, I first came across Blaise Pascal’s God-Shaped Vacuum theory. He states that
“There is a God shaped vacuum in the heart of every man which cannot be filled by any created thing, but only by God, the Creator, made known through Jesus.”

I loved this statement because it resonates within me. Jesus fills something that can’t be filled by anything else. And I have long felt that some of the real brokenness within humanity – addiction, greed, ambition (in a bad way) – stems from an attempt to find something other than Jesus to fill that vacuum within the heart.

Maybe you are well acquainted with that yearning for something unnamable. If you are, perhaps it is time to see if Jesus is that for which what you have been searching. If you already know that he is that something, then I encourage you to spend some of your time during Lent reflecting on what that means. There is so much to be thankful for as we continue the journey of faith.

I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong.
Ephesians 3:16, 17 NLT

In some ways, my journey of faith began before I was born. My mother has always told me that I was happiest in the womb when we were in worship.

I grew up the daughter of a minister. And though I never expected it, I became a minister myself. All of my life I have heard the stories of Jesus and been surrounded by conversations of faith.

In some ways, my journey of faith has no beginning…or at least, no beginning that I can pin down or remember or claim. But I do know the moment that my journey became my own. The moment in which I chose to live a life of faith. I was in university. And though these are not the exact words, I prayed a prayer that sounded an awful lot like this:

And the most wonderful thing, is that ever since that moment, God has been leading me. Some of the places He has lead me have been unexpected, some of them have been difficult. But most of them have been absolutely wonderful. And I wouldn’t give back one single step of the journey.

May you pray a prayer like this one. May you know what it is to follow God into unexpected places and discover things about Him and about yourself – bout the person He made you to be. And may you know that because God is leading you, you need never regret one single step of the journey.

Your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” Whenever you turn to the right hand Or whenever you turn to the left.
Isaiah 30:21 NKJV

At our Bible Study at St. A’s this morning, I made a remark about the fact that I must be growing up, because more and more these days I recognize what I don’t know.

When I was younger (my congregation is quite convinced that I am still “younger,” God bless them!) I seemed to know exactly where I stood in my faith. You could raise almost any issue with me and I would tell you what I thought. I look back and realize how sure I was about everything.

Now, don’t get me wrong there are still things I am absolutely sure of: that Jesus is the only begotten Son of God, that he died for the sins of humanity (including mine), that he rose again on the third day, breaking the bonds of sin and death forever, that those who put their trust in him are forgiven and made new (including me), that those who put their trust in him are given eternal life. My faith is strong and I know whom I have believed.

But as our study group looks at the different characters in the crucifixion narrative, I find I have a whole lot of questions. Many more questions than answers. Why did Judas betray? What was Peter thinking as he denied…or was he thinking at all? Why couldn’t Caiaphas and the other priests, who should have been well acquainted with holiness, recognize the holiness of Jesus? What were Pilate’s motivations?

I realize there is an awful lot I don’t know. And that’s not a bad thing. Jesus taught in parables that were open for interpretation. He left space for us to not get it (even his disciples were good at that). He left space for questions and wondering.

During the season of Lent, may you wonder. May you question. May you find that you are ok with not knowing everything.

“Can you search out the deep things of God? Can you find out the limits of the Almighty?
Job 11:7 NKJV

I went to see the movie, Son of God tonight with a friend. It was well done and interesting. But what struck me most was this feeling of something missing. I struggled all through the movie to figure out what it was.

The best way I can describe it is this: faith is not simply about what you have seen or heard or felt or touched. It is more mysterious than that. It is intangible, ethereal. Something inside of you that moves you to believe: what we mean when we talk about the heart or the spirit or the soul.

No matter how high the production values in a movie, the producers and the director cannot manufacture that thing that moves inside you. That thing that whispers, “Jesus is here. He is real. And it all happened, just as God planned it.”

I felt that thing daily in Israel. As we stood in the places where it all happened. I feel that thing on Tuesday mornings as I help to lead a Bible Study, and I listen to the discussions that the various groups are having about that morning’s subject. I feel that thing when I listen to my colleagues preach, and often when I am in the midst of preaching myself. I felt that thing on a treadmill in a gym in Toronto more than a decade ago, and it lead me to seminary and then ordination.

That thing is what makes the crazy story of God’s love for humanity real and personal and unshakeable. That thing is what drives my life, and what I seek to encourage in others.

I hope that during Lent, you will feel that mysterious, intangible, ethereal thing we call faith drawing you onward toward the celebration of Easter. I hope that it will draw you closer to God and give you the strength to face whatever life brings your way. I hope it will begin to transform and change you, so that you grow to be more like Jesus. And I hope all of that for me, as well.

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.
Hebrews 11:1 NIV

Today at St. Andrew’s we had a Christmas-in-March service. In our series “The Story,” we are traveling through the entire arc of Jesus’ life. So today was about incarnation: the word taking on flesh and dwelling among us.

I have had the opportunity to celebrate Christmas out-of-season a few times in my years in Ministry. It’s always interesting to do – I love the music and the scriptures of that season. I love all that it stands for, all that it signifies in the life of faith. And getting to encounter those songs and that part of the story without the hustle and bustle of the actual season, is quite stirring to me.

It was like when someone brings you tulips in the dead of winter, and you are shocked by their beauty, their alive-ness, their embodiment of Spring even as the wind howls and the ice cracks outside your windows.

To sing about the newborn baby while looking up at the Lenten banners adorning our church was beautiful and a little disconcerting (in the best way possible).

As Geoff reminded us in his message, Easter and Christmas go together. You can’t have one without the other. If the was no birth, no taking on of flesh, then there can be no death, nor miraculous resurrection. We celebrate both seasons, but we often celebrate them separately. In different times of the year, with different traditions and songs and scriptures. To keep Easter (and I mean all of Easter, including Lent) separate from Christmas (or vice versa) is to miss the point of both parts of the story.

As one of my favorite Christmas songs says, the baby was “born to bleed away the sins that cover our guilty hands.” The death was present at the birth, as the wisemen gave their gift of myrrh – a substance used in embalming. The life was present at the death – so present and so powerful that it overcame death and our sin was forgiven.

During the season of Lent, may you take a moment to remember that the word took on flesh and dwelt among us. May you see the beauty of the cross that is present at the cradle, and the truth that the cradle made the cross possible. May your Easter and Christmas celebrations always touch upon each other, so that you may know the full measure of God’s love for humanity.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
John 1:14 NIV