Body to Live, Body to Love

"It is in moments of illness that we are compelled to recognize that we live not alone but chained to a creature of a different kingdom, whole worlds apart, who has no knowledge of us and by whom it is impossible to make ourselves understood:  our body."

 (Marcel Proust)

Have you ever felt shame or embarrassment about your body? Have you looked in the mirror and been disappointed by the reflection?

 

Somewhere along the road I was told that I was too skinny. From a family of thick-boned people I am an abnormality with unusually light bones, something for which I learned shame at an early age. I distinctly remember an older boy referring to me as a runt - a technically appropriate and emotionally disabling label as runt animals are considered undesirable. Through the years subtle reminders of my unacceptably scrawny status were reinforced by comments and the "last chosen" position on sports teams in gym.

 

Skinny was bad enough; add scaly. My genetic makeup gifted the males in my family with a condition called ichthyosis, in which our skin cells grow and multiply at an accelerated rate. Where the average person sheds their epidermis about once a month I get to do it once every two days. A rigorous scrub in the shower and some specialized lotion keep my skin in check so that I do not spend my life flaking and itching. As a child and youth, however, the rigorous scrub and lotion routine were unknown. Consequently, I wore long-sleeved shirts as much as possible and rarely wore shorts in an effort to hide the body for which I was embarrassed. Children and youth, like chickens, have a tendency to peck and pick at perceived weaknesses. I grew up afraid that someone would notice my dry skin, resulting in a very-much-anticipated ostracism.

 

It's an odd thing, the body. We do not (as far as I know) get to pick the body into which we incarnate, and yet we judge each other for perceived limitations, for physical aspects that stand out and are not the norm. "Physically challenged" means we get stared at, and heaven help us if we have a blotch on our face - it might be contagious. We forget that all of us are in these bodies for a very short time, and that what they look like, how they operate, and whatever features they have or lack do not in any way reflect our heart and soul. They are bodies - beautiful, smelly, hairy, wrinkly, muscled, diseased... just bodies. 

After thirty, a body has a mind of its own.

(Bette Midler)

I am slowly coming to terms with this cracked vessel that my soul has rented. It certainly does not fit the artificially imposed North American ideal, but it serves me well enough so that I can smile at a stranger, cry tears, laugh, run, shovel, sing and yes, even preach :-) It's a bit itchier than I'd like at times, and in middle age it has betrayed me by adding a few pounds in the waist and the warranty on my vision is starting to go. But all-in-all it's a pretty good rental. 

Sometimes now, when I look in the mirror at my thin-boned bod I smile and give thanks for the miles it has taken me and the experience this soul has gained by being en-fleshed. And sometimes the mirror's reflection reveals a boy ashamed by not being good enough - fearful that he will be noticed and dismissed. Life's like that eh? Good days and hard days and one day at a time. 

"Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you?"

 (1 Corinthians 3.16)

At the end of the day I am grateful for the reminders from Scripture that my body is not my identity, that neither cultural beauty nor infirmity determine who I am. Rather, it is God's love that made and defines me, and you, and consequently, at the core you and I are a gift of love to this world; we have these bodies for a while so that we may enact that love.

I will leave the last word to Jesus:

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink;

or about your body, what you will wear. 

Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?” 

Matthew 6.25

Pastor Bill

Hug

you

smile

you

are

beautiful

Thank

God

for gifts

and

challenges

Breathe

Amen

[First published August 29, 2012]

Shame, Shame

"There's shames a man can never reason away, though he looks back and piles up reasons over them forty dozen deep. 

And maybe those are the shames a man never should reason away."

(Ken Kesey, Sometimes a Great Notion)

Have you ever felt ashamed of your actions? Have you wished that you could take back words carelessly thrown at someone? This last week I lambasted my brother in a most uncharacteristic and vulgar fashion. Reacting in a surprising way to elements of the conversation, I lashed out with such anger that it entirely caught me off guard. It was like the sudden appearance of a prairie storm, sunny skies turning grey and ominous, a crack of thunder preceding wind and rain. 

I don't know where it came from, and like a thunder storm, it left as quickly as it blew in. The wind and hail did some damage though. A wind-fallen tree cannot be righted; one can only plant new trees and hope that they grow.

I felt shamed by my actions and as I drove home I wished with all my might that I could turn back time. That evening I watched a movie called "Next" about a man who could see two minutes into the future. It allowed him to observe the consequences of his actions before they happened. Wow. Do I wish that I had seen the storm coming - I'd have diverted its wrath.

So, the next day I phoned my brother and apologized. I love my brother with all my heart and his gracious response is a potent reminder of the power of forgiveness. We will plant new trees, he and I - and we will likely continue to poke each other's buttons, and to grow in love. Other storms will come and go, prairie winds that ravage the trees of our being. The storms pass and in their wake the sun cuts brilliantly through the clouds and in the stillness a song bird dares to sing. If there is any hope for humanity it lies entirely in forgiveness.

Now I need only forgive me, and that may take a bit of time.

To you that have ever felt shame - you have my compassion. May the wounds of our words be healed and our inner light shine as brightly as Love intends :-)

We will err and we will wound - to do so is human perhaps. More human yet - to venture boldly beyond our wounds, and our woundings to be the love that lies at the core of our being.

I leave the last word to Reinhold Niebuhr:

"Forgiveness is the final form of love."

Pastor Bill

Breathe in

grace

gentle

renewing

releasing

Breathe out

and

just

be

[First published July 4, 2012]

Alive

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive,and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

(Howard Thurman)

After you have read this week's devotion I invite you to go outside for a moment. Regardless of the weather - just step outside and let your senses take in all that life is doing.

Listen...
Touch...
Inhale...
See...

Taste...

You are alive - do you have any idea how amazing that is? 

Feel the wind and sun on your face. Let rain drops caress you. Smell a flower, feel grass under your feet. Listen to bird-song, wind chimes, dogs barking... just be out in life for a moment.

Just one life - that's all we get and today is it.

What a wonder - to be alive and to know it. 

I wish for you today - that you experience life fully, richly, powerfully, passionately; for as you experience life so will it flow out of you to kindle the flame in others.

Go on now - go outside for a moment, and let the breeze of life stir the embers of your heart, that they may burst into flame.

You are alive and you are truly amazing.

 I leave the last word to Jesus:

"I have come that they may have life, and have it abundantly." 

(John 10.10)

Pastor Bill

                                  Smile
                                This is our prayer
                                 God
                                    it is good 

for our heart

to
beat
today

Ahh...
life

it is delicious
Amen

[First published June 20, 2012]

Still Waters

I have just returned from two days canoeing the Kananaskis River on a canoe course. It was a fantastic experience with excellent leaders, amazing scenery and fast, rushing water. 

The first time that we launched I was in the bow (front) of the canoe with an instructor paddling behind me in the stern. I trusted the experience and wisdom of my teacher, but that did not completely alleviate the anxiety that arose as we were pulled into the turbulent current. All too quickly the shoreline dissolved into a blur as my focus was drawn to fumbling incompetently with my paddle. Tim (a leader) shouted instructions from behind: draw, hard, hard... now paddle, paddle, pry, and then, (forcefully) lean!

We had made it into an eddy, a place of calmer water lying downstream of some impediment in the stream such as a large rock or an outcropping of the shore. Once in an eddy, paddlers can rest while the stream continues its tireless cascade. 

Getting into and out of eddies takes skill and energy - at times the canoe is being paddled across the flow, precariously tilted with the gunnel a few inches above the thrashing water. It requires a high degree of trust between the stern and bow paddlers and a dunk into the drink provides the requisite experience upon which to build wisdom (I was not the recipient of such experience on this venture)!

When I arrived home late last night I was launched into another river - home and work life. The waters of life are at times deep, and the channel through which they flow is narrow. The needs of our families, friends and community, like the Kananaskis river, require energy and skill to navigate. Sometimes it all feels like it is flowing too fast and I fear that I will tumble over and be washed away by the current. At such times I am desperate for the safety and rest of an eddy.

The kids to soccer, baseball, dance; preparing supper, getting groceries, weeding the garden; repairs to a vehicle, renovations, helping a friend; career, job, school; family gatherings, social commitments, volunteering... the river is deep and there are rapids ahead with hidden rocks and a big log-jam at the bend and your arms feel like lead. Perhaps you know what I am referring to? 

We all need eddies - places where the current is slower and we can put our paddle down; a place of rest and renewal. You see, it's not that the river is a bad place to be. I am wildly passionate about the river of my life, the places it takes me and those with whom I share the current. There are times though when I just don't have the energy to keep up with the flow.

If your arms are getting tired of paddling, find an eddy. A cup of coffee in the middle of the day, a walk, a visit with a friend, a few days away - whatever it is that fills you. We may not be able to control the flow of the river, but we can choose when we step out to catch our breath. 

 I leave the last word to the Gospel of Mark:

Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” (Mark 6.31)

Paddle hard, and lean, and let the current take you to quiet waters.

Pastor Bill

Today
pray
for
quiet

breathe

be
at rest

you
are in
God's
hands

[First published June 13, 2012]

Lesson for Living

“I don't think you should die until you're ready; 

until you've wrung out every last bit of living you can.”

 (Libba Bray, Going Bovine)

Anna (my wife) and I had a tree removed from our back yard this spring - a gorgeous, mature, perfect-for-shade and climbing tree. I'm not big on taking down trees, but this female green ash produced a million seeds each fall and every one of them was determined to sprout in our garden; we'd had it with the perpetual ash nursery. So we had some guys come in and take it down. Well, mostly down. We asked them to leave about nine feet of trunk - thought we'd do something artistic with it. So now we have this nine-foot-tall-ending-in-a-Y, slightly leaning skeleton of a tree standing at attention. 

The neighbor asked if I was hoping it would grow back - he thought we'd trimmed it a bit close. "Ha! No way!", I said. I sincerely hoped it was dead. We'll plant five more trees to pay the earth back for our frivolity, but this one needs to be done with its seed-producing life.

Joke's on me. Tree, it turns out, is a long way from dead. Leaves are sprouting out all over the place, their verdant foliage an all-to-obvious allusion to Biblical images of the stump of Jessie and new shoots from dead roots and all that. Thing is, I did not want it to send out new shoots - I wanted it to be done. Dead. Finito. 

Life, it would seem, has other plans.

Life is persistent. Just when you think that the last bit of it has ebbed away there is a gasp and a hesitant heartbeat, and another, and then an explosion of breath as life once again bursts into the world to proclaim to the universe - I am, I exist, I live. 

Flat-lines in the operating room that are suddenly, inexplicably not flat-lines anymore. A newborn animal left for dead that musters enough courage to call out and be nursed to life. A myriad of examples from humans to animals, from trees to vines to... to dreams, hopes and love. 

Is there something dieing in your life? Something that has its life energy seeping away? A relationship, a dream, a belief; the will to continue in an endeavor or in a  particular direction? There are times when we have to prune back to the trunk - branches, twigs, leaves - all of it. Or maybe life has done the pruning and we are left with our sap dripping out and the world seeming to take pleasure in the loss. 

But then we remember our roots. They go deep, they are our history and experiences, our wisdom - our love. Our roots are our faith and our strength. These roots tap into waters that are known only to us. Roots that delve, and find crevices, and cling to rock and draw goodness from loamy soil. We think that we are done - branches of our being torn away, hope sawn off at the trunk, but we have forgotten that the root survives.

In the darkest hour the sap flows from the roots bringing new life, renewal, and - can you believe it - new leaves. 

“After all, how often do we get a second chance?” (Jay Asher, Thirteen Reasons Why) 

Our roots remind us that we are stronger than we think, more enduring than the challenge before us and, because of our roots, life surges to find expression once again through us. How often do we get a second chance? Our inner strength is the source of today's second chance. 

And in case we doubt our roots, doubt the great store of strength that is the deep waters of our being, let us not forget of what we are made. I leave the last word to Scripture, to remind us that we will withstand the storms, the breaking of branches, the tearing of leaves. 

There is nothing in this day that you cannot overcome - because...

God spoke: "Let us make human beings in our image,

 make them reflecting our nature (Genesis 1.26, The Message)

and 

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.

 I do not give to you as the world gives. 

Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. (John 14.27, NIV)

Grow new leaves; wring all that you can from this crazy, incredible, challenging life!

Pastor Bill

[First published June 6, 2012]

Editor's note:  My apologies for not keeping up with Wednesday's Wisdom in the past few months!  There were a few too many leave growing on the tree of my life and I had to get them pruned back a bit :)

Risky Business

If one is forever cautious, can one remain a human being?  

                      ~Aleksander Solzhenitsyn

Last week Alexander (our 14 year old) took a tumble on a dirt bike resulting in a compound fracture of his lower left tibia. Consequence: unable to ride his BMX bike at the skate park in the next 6-8 weeks. Life is full of risks. As a parent I am tempted to say that the dirt bike incident should not have happened. What was he doing riding a motorcycle without our supervision? He is inexperienced and the bike was too powerful and... and so on and so on. But life is full of risks. And we can't be there all the time for him and he will need to grow his own wisdom to guide him in his decisions. A hip-to-heel cast is providing him with a bit of life experience and the concurrent wisdom.

One of Alexander's many responses to the accident is to say that he will never get on a dirt bike again. He is free to make that choice. It is not, however, my encouragement to him. Rather, I suggest that he learn from the experience and apply that learning to his next attempt, should he desire to give it another go. In the words of Benjamin Disraeli, "there is no education like adversity."

Life IS full of risks. It is risky to cross the street, to make investments, to give birth, to love, to leave, to stay. It is risky to try any new venture, it is risky to hold back. Maybe the risk is a bit of what makes life spicy and delicious. Somehow the risks of life stir our passions, they take us a bit closer to the edge and we experience life more intensely. And if not for the risk we take, the road ahead is simply not traveled. 

I wonder if risk-taking is perhaps quintessentially human? Soren Kierkegaard stated, "To dare is to lose one's footing momentarily.  To not dare is to lose oneself." Is it in our DNA to risk, to try new things, to hunger for the view on the far side of the horizon? Humanity, for all of its ills and shortcomings is still an amazing creature which dares to stretch and test its limits. And what wonders have been born from our stretching. Acts of kindness, advances in medicine and technology, incredible physically feats, business ventures... on and on the list goes, all because someone took a risk.

Perhaps it boils down to our heritage. We are created by God, in God's image, and God is a radical risk-taker. After all, God risked creating us and setting us loose in the universe. Then, God risked by incarnating in Jesus with the desire that we should awaken to Love's potential within us. Big risk. But when I hear the story of a 14-year-old confirmation student telling about volunteering to clean a neighbor's house or another who will  serve special needs kids at camp, or read to a paraplegic woman - then I realize that the risk of God to Love us is bearing fruit.

So my encouragement is to risk - take a crazy wild chance and see where it goes. There is something you've been thinking about doing for a long time, playing with the idea in your head, "should I our shouldn't I?" Well, unless you take the leap you will never know the gift of what could be.

You'll always miss 100% of the shots you don't take. 

 ~Wayne Gretzky

There may be an act of kindness waiting for you to make it happen, or a relationship to begin, or one to end. A business venture has been calling your name, or a move to a new community, a service project, maybe a cleaning, a releasing, a forgiveness that has been tugging at your soul... It's true that, like Alexander, you might get on and discover that you are getting more than you bargained for; there are no guarantees. However,  in the words of John A. Shedd, "A ship in harbor is safe - but that is not what ships are for." (Salt from My Attic)
In the end, Alexander's risk is supported by family and friends. We help him up and down the stairs and he is encouraged by a staunch group of Junior High supporters. And that is life - risk, learn, lean on community, risk again.
I leave the last word to one of humanity's great risk-takers:

“Jesus looked hard at them and said, “No chance at all if you think you can pull it off yourself. Every chance in the world if you trust God to do it.”
(Matthew 19:26, MSG)

Remember, we're all in this together 

Pastor Bill

Slow down
for a
moment

just be
still

listen
deep inside

wisdom speaks
in the
quiet
places

Breathe deeply
out
and in

and be guided
by her
voice

Friendship

“To get the full value of joy you must have someone to divide it with.” (Mark Twain)

I met an elderly gentleman on a walk through the woods this week and my new friend taught me something about companionship. 

Max (my Jack Russell Terrier) and I were out for a stroll on the ski trails south of Camrose and met there a white-haired man walking an old collie-lab cross. Both had more grey than color in their coat and neither was prancing about with the kind of energy of the 5-year old dog scooting at my heels. Max ran ahead and the two dogs stood a half dozen metres apart assessing each other before tails began to wag and body-sniffing erupted.

The gentleman and I did not sniff each other. But we did smile and conversation ensued. His dog, he remarked, was 12 years old and as he said it his eyes lit up with remembered walks and the intimate companionship that can sometimes happen between humans and animals. He went on to tell me that the old dog was walking a bit stiffly these days. "Her hips are sore and  she sits more than she walks." I wondered if he was really referring to the dog as I watched him move a bit slowly as well.  The old hound ambled slowly over to give me a tentative sniff and then she gingerly worked her way back to her human. 

The old man smiled kindly to Max and me and the two of them walked with careful steps back to his truck. Max, with usual enthusiasm leaped up into the cab of our truck and, as I was turning around to drive away, I noticed my new friend doing something that is the cause of this writing. From the back of his pickup he had pulled a little set of wooden steps that were built to the exact height of the seat of his truck. His aging canine partner was gingerly working her way up the steps with his steady encouragement. It was clearly painful for her as she made several attempts. 


I waved as I went by and shared in this fellow's relief as his dog finally settled on the seat of the truck and the steps where reverently replaced in the truck box.

Such companionship - shared struggles, shared love, shared joy. Growing old together. It happens between us and our animal friends, and all the more so between us and our human friendships. I have seen this same sense of union shared between couples on the dance floor - moving with the grace and familiarity that is forged by decades of journeying together.

I have observed such companionship shared between two women over a cup of coffee at a coffee shop - an aroma of comfort in shared memories and easy friendship finding expression in laughter and tears. 

This kind of companionship, this deep sharing of struggles and joys - this gives us life and sustains us in the journey. It is an expression of the encompassing intimacy that is ours through God's Spirit wherein we can face our pain, our losses, and the uncertainties of life with courage and hope. My new white-haired friend and his gray-coated journey-mate are an echo of our creator's care for us. We are always loved, always held and in the quiet places of our heart where Spirit hovers, we are never alone.

May you know the gift of companionship today - and may it sustain and uplift you as you travel life's road.

I leave the last word to Jesus:

John 14:25-27 (The Message)

"I'm telling you these things while I'm still living with you. The Friend, the Holy Spirit whom the Father will send at my request, will make everything plain to you. He will remind you of all the things I have told you. I'm leaving you well and whole. That's my parting gift to you. Peace. I don't leave you the way you're used to being left—feeling abandoned, bereft.

Pastor Bill

Be still
for just a moment

remember
to breathe
deeply
out

and let breath
flow deeply in

and breathe
and breathe
and
know

that you are so
loved
and cherished

you
are held

Smile
and be
true
in this
day

[First published May 2, 2012]