Many of us as Christians have directive to forgive — forgive those who trespass against us; to forgive is divine; love your enemies; turn the other cheek — but not training in how to forgive. We are frustrated and puzzled by how hard it is to let go of our hurt, especially when we have seen little or no remorse on the part of an offender. Unable to forgive, we might then ask, “are we being bad Christians?”
Seek and Ye Shall Find There is good Christian fiction, you just have to look for it by Carol J. Garvin A Tasty Morsel A […]
For many of us, summer, that much-anticipated season of warmth and light we're entering, is all too brief. Naturally, we'd like to savour it as much as possible. In order to really do so, though, we need to depart from our usual habits and routines.
Today is my day off and it snowed this morning, almost a foot in some places. Disgusted, I went to work. After lunch the snow stopped and I decided to leave the office and see if I could salvage the remains of the day. I went home, grabbed my fi eld glasses, my rambling rifle and the rest of my field kit.
It's become popular not only to make fun of the church and people of faith, but to attempt to attack or topple Christian tenets. Books like The Da Vinci Code and documentaries claiming archeological discoveries of the bones of Jesus and his family appear to threaten the very foundations of the Christian church. Our society has forgotten and neglected its roots, and we've lost the Sabbath. Church has moved from the essential institution at society's hub to a blip on the weekend radar, wedged between hockey practice and the scratch-and-save sale at Sears.
I am a chronic complainer. I grumble. I gripe. I have grievances. Sometimes my whining gets on my wife's nerves. She says, “You should quit whining, Phil.” But I tell her, “I don't like your tone of voice, Sweetie, it's beginning to bother me.” These are the things I have found myself complaining about lately:
In his introduction to The Master Preacher, short and not to be skipped over, Rev. Sheldon MacKenzie's opening paragraph reads: “The Gospel of John is distinctly different from the other three. To begin with, it is written in language that is deceptively simple. A child may read and enjoy it. At the same time, while a mature adult may read it easily, he/she may understand it with difficulty.”
The Master Preacher: Sermons from John by Roy Sheldon MacKenzie Fairway Press, Lima, Ohio, 2006 In his introduction to The Master Preacher, short and not […]
“I found someone!” I said.
Assuming that the media has done its job, the hype surrounding the impending blockbuster movie season should be kicking into high gear by now. One of those titles coming fast and furious down the pipe is the third installment of the Spiderman movie franchise. The first two have a great track record… I must admit my more literary and theological side likes it when I get to “geek out” about the surprising theological depth of something usually better known for its special effects.
How can I help make a change for the better as an ordained minister of the church? How can my past experience help others find peace with God, with themselves and within their church family? How can I help others on their journey?
Golf is an irritating little sport that beckons us with promises of hope then dashes them in the sand or the creek. It's something my son and I have been thinking about the last few days and something we celebrate at Easter. Standing on the first hole with grand visions of the round ahead, Jeffrey pulled out his new driver, carefully placed a brand new ball on a brand new tee, took a few perfect practice swings, then smacked his first shot. Hard.
“They're here, and they sure are hungry!” Linda said, as I arrived home for supper.
We are told that seeing is believing which is interesting for those of us who are 'believers' living in a 'seeing' culture. We live in one of the most visually-based cultures in human history. Television has become the way that we see the world and filter truth.
My church offered no support groups for the separated or divorced. My friends were all married. When your marriage breaks up there is an aloneness that you feel — it's as if part of your life has been torn away from you. It is unnatural and surreal. So how do you get on with life as you ride this emotional roller coaster of sadness and sorrow? You don't. You just go through it the best way you can and find help wherever you can.
Dear Phil,
My wife is due in a month, and I'm a little frightened. No, I'm a lot frightened. Friends of ours had their first child a year ago and they've hardly slept since. They think he's the cutest little guy on earth. I think he looks like ET. He requires more maintenance than their pickup truck, and he's already made a serious dent in their savings account. What can I do to prepare for fatherhood? Please answer — and please hurry.
— Sleepless in Saskatchewan
When I read my first book on mainline church renewal in the early 1990s, the operative phrase was “paradigm shift.” Churches were encouraged to develop new models for ministry and mission. It was time to “think outside of the box,” to start with a blank page. It was not an exercise that came easily to many churches struggling with grief and diminishing resources.
Burrrrrrr! Where did that cold come from?” I was just in from a foray into the frozen expanses of our lakefront lot to a steaming hot cup of Linda's coffee. “It's -30 Celsius out there! How can a winter that has been so unseasonably warm turn on us like this … and so close to spring too?”
Smoking cigarettes, it is said in advertising and on pamphlets, is the most preventable cause of death. It's an absurd statement of course: there is no way to prevent death; unless you take the virgin birth route. And I wouldn't suggest anyone take that path too lightly, the responsibility is too heavy.
When I was 11 years young, my parents sent me to Loose Moose Bible Camp as a prize for memorizing Scripture verses like “Be ye kind one to another.” I was beaten up twice that week by Bruce Johnson, the meanest kid this side of Harlem. Bruce had wrists as big as my thighs and tattoos the size of Bermuda. He was so unsaved that he couldn't even sing along on “Kum Ba Yah,” or “It Only Takes A Spark To Get A Fire Going.”