Wednesday 7 November 2018

Inerrancy, Doubts, and Faith

I’ve been talking to S. about our struggles with the Bible—especially as taking it as “inerrant truth.” Both she and I struggle with that “faith” in the Bible stories as precise, historical truth. I think of how I accepted them without question as a child and passed them on that way. But later they have become a real source of questioning, even of doubt, for me--and also for some of those to whom I taught the stories as historical fact.

Yet I also suffer from “guilt” for even questioning my “faith” in the stories as presented. And for wondering if God really did tell the Israelites, for example, to kill every living person and animals, and other things like that. I find myself wondering if they interpreted their understanding of God and his ways through the dominant tribalistic cultural ways of their time (don’t we still do the same)? And if so, what does that say about the “inerrant truth” of scripture? 

I see God revealing Himself overall (and especially through Jesus), but at the same time, I wonder how much in the Bible is man’s understanding and interpretation? I wonder what the Bible would sound like and focus on if it were written today—even by faithful, well-meaning, knowledgeable Christians who are doing their best to serve God and to love and follow and believe in Jesus? How might people a hundred or thousand years from now look back at the books we have written in our era about “what God has told me.” 

For that matter, we often look askance at interpretations by present Christian people we admire generally but have a hard time believing God really told them this or that. In fact, I have had plenty of doubts, looking back (sometimes not too far—or even presently) at things I’ve been pretty sure He’s been “telling” or “directing” me (including things I've written in this blog. I've thought of going through and removing some things--but the blog is a "Journey" as the title says, and those things are part of it). Things that seemed right in the moment, but it didn't take long for me to have second thoughts. 

How oh how do we possibly know and understand these "matters of faith"? I really do think we truly still, even with all our knowledge and theology, “see through a glass darkly”—and yes, will continue to do so until we “see face to face.” 

Saturday 23 June 2018

Off Track and Welcome Back

(originally journaled May 20, 2018)

Yesterday a friend posted on Facebook, wondering if it's possible to return to Jesus without having to deal with church. I responded, sharing a few of my own fears (such as being afraid I won't be accepted after I've "denied" God to some degree ... embarrassed about what people might say ... fear of maybe having to go to church and/or do other things I don't want to or am afraid of).

Lord, Your will be done ... and please forgive my denials. Please? You know I still worry about that a lot even though it's pretty apparent You called me back--a miracle in itself. And You know, too, that I sometimes have moments when I wonder if You are real--when I'm not having any "emotional experiences" and I'm still being influenced by the walking away times... and I know the enemy is trying to pull me back. Though I'm pretty sure I never did reach a time when I really didn't believe. Well, I know it's an "intellectual wondering" as deep inside I've always known You are with me, always have been. You don't let your children go, do You? (Unless they really want to, I guess...).

Been thinking a lot lately about that Chuck Girard song from back when I was a teen:
Welcome back to the things that you once believed in/ Welcome back to what you knew was right from the start/ ... I know that you thought you could turn your back/ ... But I can see that you know better now/ ... and I'm so happy now to welcome you back/ Sometimes you just don't know what you're missing/ Til you leave it for awhile/ Welcome back to Jesus.
I've found myself wondering, lately, where I got so off-track for so long. And why? But maybe it was a stripping kind of time, pulling away from parts of my faith that were extras, padding--that were blocking me from seeing You. Which is maybe why I'm nervous about picking up things like church.

I don't want to do things because I "should" but only because I believe and love you (even though it is still hard sometimes to know if I even do that ... It seems like that is the hardest part).

It's easier to "do things" that "show love" than to actually bare one's heart and be vulnerable and actually love. I don't like to be hurt. And I like to be intellectual because it feels safer. And it's easier to accept, too, because it can be proved. And I'm a bit skittish about things that can't be proved (like when I took an Apologetics course, and it seemed like so many things they tried to prove weren't provable in a dry, scientific way, and it just seemed like grasping at straws).

Faith is a hard thing because we can't see it, quantify it--and can't feel it emotionally, a lot of the time. Yet ... You've always been here with me. I've never doubted You (though I have doubted, and still do sometimes, the theology and theory of it).


Saturday 9 June 2018

The Possibilities of Prayer

Attending traditional Anglican services and using the Book of Common Prayer there, as well as personal use of "The Divine Hours" (Phyllis Tickle) and "Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals") (S. Claiborne et al), and recent exploration of Centering Prayer (see Cynthia Bourgeault), leaves me with the feeling that in the tradition I was raised in we missed out to some degree on the possibilities of prayer.

We prayed a lot--at home we had "grace" before meals, daily "family worship" in which each of us, even small children, were expected to take a turn praying, individual daily devotions, lots of scripture memorizations, and extemporaneous, individually created prayers whenever circumstances called for it--illness, setting out on a road trip, praying before guests left, upcoming events, financial needs, and so on.

At church, we had a fairly lengthy prayer (by the minister, usually) in each service, opening prayers for special events or services, and of course, mid-week prayer meeting when everyone could pray in turn (or sometimes individually yet all at once), kneeling by the pews.

At school, we all repeated the Lord's prayer and listened to a scripture each morning, at least until it got phased out when I was in grade 9 or so, when we were on "shift system" and there just wasn't enough time in a 4 hour school day to include "extras." Soon enough, schools stopped doing morning prayers altogether.

Overall (excepting school prayers), the emphasis in the evangelical tradition I was raised in was on personal requests--for health, safety, finances, guidance. But we didn't often use Scripture as a prayer or guide, other than the Lord's Prayer and sometimes scripture in prayerful hymns or choruses, through which I suppose we felt we were covering "praise" and "seeking God" and "worshipping." Very occasionally, we would have a "responsive reading" from the back of the hymnal, a leftover from our denomination's Wesleyan and Anglican roots, I imagine. There was a simple liturgy of prayers, about once a month, for communion, spoken by the minister.

We didn't, so far as I know, draw upon other traditional prayers passed down through the church ages, nor did we use any of the creeds. I was 12 years old when I first heard of the Apostle's Creed, which we had to memorize for a badge in our church's children's club. No context, no use of it in our services, so I just memorized it and got my badge, with no idea where it came from or understanding of its significance. Oddly enough, I didn't think to ask anyone about it; mind you, I don't think we did a lot of "asking" about things like that. 

There were some prayers in the denomination's "Book of Discipline" in the section on rituals such as infant dedication, baptism, and so on--but again, these were read by the minister and were not in that sense congregational/ participatory.

In a sense, the hymns we sang (and we sang many) were our congregational prayers. And worthy ones, at that. Happy and joyous, deep and repentant, even militant (which at that time no one questioned). The hymn book was our "liturgy" I think, along with our informal but quite religiously followed "order of service" as laid out in the weekly bulletin. In fact, I didn't know what a liturgy was until I was at least in my late teens; I'd heard the word kind of whispered in "tut-tut" discussions of how "those mainline churches, and Catholics" worshipped. At any rate, I wonder if maybe when we gave up hymns and hymn books, for the most part, and replaced them with "worship choruses" on overhead projectors, if we really did lose an important part of our worship--in fact, our liturgy, though we'd never have called it that.

I have a copy of the hymnal of that denomination, which says of "The Role of a Hymnal":
The faith and life of the church have always found expression and reinforcement through its hymnody....
The hymnal teaches and inspires. It expresses faith, hope, and love. It voices our experience and aspiration. It is a way to share. It is a rich source of biblical theology. It is where we join with the saints of other centuries in a common expression of joy, praise, and worship. It is a force for unity. It is a stimulus to Christian action and evangelism. It leads us to God and to men. The combination of lyric and melody fastens truth upon the inner man.
Sounds rather like a description of liturgical books like "The Book of Common Prayer," doesn't it--although I still wish we'd had more participatory focus on scripture reading and congregational prayers. More emphasis on the "deep things" of common/ congregational worship. Still, I'm glad to have discovered some of those possibilities of prayer now, even if it's been a long journey to get here.


Monday 4 June 2018

Afraid ... of church

Recently (for the past few months) I've been attending an Anglican church (early Sunday morning service; traditional liturgy) and I'm longing to be a "part of the family" ... and yet at the same time, I'm afraid.

The people are lovely and caring. I love the liturgy. The interim minister (who is Lutheran) is friendly and a good preacher. The church building is beautiful in an old-timey traditional way. What's to be afraid of, you might wonder?

It's not this particular gathering of the church I'm afraid of. I'm realizing more and more how deeply my heart was broken a number of years ago when two churches in a row, which I attended with full-heartedness, both dissolved into bitterness and anger and terrible disunity, and one ended up closing down completely. To this day I cannot understand how such a thing could happen, how a family with God as their Father and Christ as their elder brother could tear into each other with such rancour. And I don't think I could bear to go through something like that again. Probably it didn't help that at the same time I was dealing with my mom's dementia, and then both my parents' deaths within a year and a half and most of my children growing up and leaving home in that time period and so on, but out of all those things, the most heart-breaking to me was the acrimony among members of Christ's body. How, oh how, can that happen?

I have been part of a very small house church gathering in the intervening years, and I do love those people and I'm so grateful they accepted me as part of their family at a time when I was in so much pain. But I miss the sense of being part of the family of God across the world and through time--and I have been finding that in the Anglican communion. But oh my goodness--what if something happened and they split at the seams, too? Is it even possible to find a group of believers that really are in unity and will stay that way? How could it be that those who believe in Jesus could descend into such grievous disunity and pain? I don't understand. And yes, I'm afraid.

God, lead me, please.

Wednesday 23 May 2018

Feeling Zombiefied

(originally journaled Feb 26, 2018)

I dread being relaxed ...

I hate how I can sit down in front of the TV and watch 3 or 4 episodes non-stop of repetitive stuff like forensics shows. Or slouch in front of the computer screen and scroll through endless Facebook memes. When I just glaze over and go with the flow--and end up feeling so guilty for wasting time.

I've been having a hard time avoiding screen time. Dear God, please help me fill those dull, empty spaces with things that will draw me into relationship with You and into loving others with Your love.

I feel like I've been zombiefied lately. I need to get active--but how? The more I work (and I've been working hard, especially brain work--tutoring, editing, writing), the more tired I become. Yet the more I sleep to overcome the tiredness, the more it increases. I feel like maybe I'm using sleep as a way to avoid something, though I don't know what. I'm so tired of blah days.

I don't care so much about happiness and pleasure and success. I just want Your joy.

I don't care so much about mushy human love and friends. I do want the love of God and neighbor that You offer and promise.

I don't care so much about solving wars and political upheavals (or even Christian/religious ones, which there seem to be a lot of these days). But I do long for contentment in You through Your peace that passes all human understanding (because that's the only way true peace will ever come).

I'm so tired of feeling zombiefied. Please awaken, enliven me with Your abundant life.


Tuesday 1 May 2018

Honor God and Parents--Or Tell Lies

I woke this morning and lay in bed wondering why it is so hard for me to tell the truth about the tiniest things that might have someone think negatively about me. I was pretty sure it had to do with the guilt and embarrassment I feel when I think people will not approve or will catch me out not doing the best I can do. "Study to show thyself approved unto God (and people, oh yes! people especially), a workman (a hardworking one)..."

But at the same time, I actually fear that if I am successful I will be guilty of pride, that core sin. If I reach too high or am pleased by even small successes, I am stepping out of my place in life which is to be a humble and obedient little Christian girl, thus pleasing God and grandma and church and sometimes parents too, who in turn were under pressure to raise me that way--and by extension, everyone else (humans more than God, I strongly suspect).

Yet at the same time, I know I believe, deep down, that I am supposed to do well, particularly in anything related to academic education, writing, and teaching, to please and reflect well on my dad, the teacher.

Further, when I commit any one of an endless number of thou-shalt-nots, I find myself faced with the deep urge to cover it up by telling a little white lie. And then I instantly feel guilty, because by lying I have broken one of the ten commandments. It matters not that when I look up those ten commandments, I can't find the one about lying. The closest is to not bear false witness against my neighbour--but it seems that what I am really doing when I tell one of these lies is that I am bearing false witness against myself in order to please others.

After I got up and started the day, I checked my Facebook and did something I rarely do--took one of those silly quizzes. This one was about "success blockers" and after just eight questions, it decided that my personal success blocker was "feeling unworthy." It explained this goes back to the preschool years when our brain mostly is using theta waves, the same kind used for hypnosis and meditation. We sponge up everything that comes our way, and it affects our subconscious for the rest of our life. That fit in pretty well with what I'd just been thinking about, don't you think?

So sometimes I lie because I feel unworthy, or more likely unapproved, and need people to think well of me--while at other times I feel I must cover up my illegal feelings of worthiness (pride, you know) to prove my humility. It's a hopeless balancing act, an unattainable tiptoe walk along a narrow fence line. Yet I can't seem to avoid it because it is buried deep inside me and I know it goes way back to my earliest days when I was faced with expectations that, in reflection, I think were impossible for a child to live up to.

I know those in authority over me meant well; I know they were trying their best to themselves obey God and be humble yet approved, and I have no doubt that they were probably raised under stronger strictures that I ever was. I even have no doubt that I've passed some of this on to my own children, while at the same time trying to be more relaxed and approving, then feeling guilty for doing so in case it might lead them astray.

Yes, I'm an adult now and have been for 40 plus years. Yes, I should be able to overcome that beginning. Or at least be able to figure out what parts of my upbringing were an overreaction and set that aside, holding to the many parts which were good. And yes, I've tried. And tried and tried. Occasionally I manage, a bit. But then I find myself telling another little white lie, quite frequently in fact.

Am I alone? Am I hopeless? Should I be trying harder? Am I "unapproved" by God because of all this? Is there a way out, an escape? The video I watched offered a free course on how to set aside one's success blockers and become successful--but I turned off the video at that point because I had that little voice in the back of my mind warning me against "worldly methods" ... but what else am I supposed to do? Why does it seem like all my prayers and Bible study and church attendance and participation and submission and seeking the guidance of God's Spirit, and so on and on and on, is not helping either?

Do you face this struggle? Is there an answer in this lifetime? How do those perfect, approved Christians do it? Or are they struggling, too? And maybe telling their own little white lies (and maybe even big ones sometimes)?

Thursday 5 April 2018

Fitting the Puzzle Pieces Together

(Journaled February 20 ... and following up from my previous post!)

Sometimes life just seems to carry on, day after day, like a pile of jigsaw pieces scattered over a table, with no obvious pattern, direction, or picture emerging.

And then, all of a sudden, it seems like a few jigsaw pieces suddenly fall into place and, wonderful surprise, a piece of the picture emerges!

I've been having some of those serendipitous (as in, I'm sure, providential rather than accidental!) experiences lately. I was wondering and praying so long about what to do in regards to meeting with the church, feeling discouraged, not knowing where I might belong or be of help. Then we went through a "Spiritual Disciplines" study (which I'd written years ago, led once, and then shelved) at our house church gathering, and it surprisingly has given me a sense of Father's direction more than I've experienced or expected for a long time. Meantime, I started attending Anglican services (traditional ones, following the Book of Common Prayer) early on Sunday mornings, and I feel more and more at home there, though I still don't know what my part might be.

And daily, I'm so enjoying using Phyllis Tickles interdenominational Divine Hours and The Common Prayer pocket ed.(though I've also used the full edition in the past) and the Hymns of the Living Faith (which brings back so many memories of my Free Methodist childhood) and of course the Bible, using a read-through-the-Bible-in-a-year chronological process for personal devotions, as well as my own prayer lists.

I have found myself actually managing to cut way back from sugar and chocolate and baked goodies for Lent. And have come to a much better understanding about tithes and offerings--from several sources at once. And rewatched The Shack movie with friends and was reminded of God's love, which gave me a renewed trust in Papa, Jesus, and Sarayu (the Holy Spirit) despite life's circumstances.

I've been spending time with Catholic folks and fellow teachers through a Catholic school I do tutoring contract for. I've also been amazed by the way Father has been bringing Christian writers and writing into my life lately, as I'd been feeling really quite conflicted about the state of "Christian writing" in the past few years. A friend's new memoir was an encouragement, even a revelation to me of God's work in her life even with all its ups and downs. And I've discovered some really helpful websites where Christian writers have been sharing their writing journeys from the perspective of being believers.

I attended a talk recently at our local college by a First Nations friend, Greg Younging, and bought a copy of his new aboriginal writer's style guide, Elements of Indigenous Style, which I'm looking forward to reading and using, as I have been looking for clearer direction in my own writing around indigenous issues on my HaidaGwaiiBuilding Bridges website and elsewhere. Although I've been married for 35 years to a First Nations man and we have 5 children with native status, and I've been deeply involved in many indigenous activities, I've become rather paralyzed with fear about writing on indigenous issues as a white person. I feel this book is an answer to help me overcome my fears and write responsibly and thoughtfully.

Even spending some time the other day talking with some eager "Mormon missionary boys" and seeing their love for the Lord and at the same time being able to share the gospel of Christ as I've known and understood it, encouraged me to reflect more clearly on what I really believe and why, share my faith more openly, and listen to others, find where they are on their spiritual journey, and share thoughts with them from my own experiences.

I am seeing God's path and ministry for me, at least in this season of my life, is to live His love to a wide variety of people--and leave the judging to Him, the only truly knowing and understanding judge of each heart. Sometimes I've felt worry and guilt because of thoughts that I might be too "liberal" and not "strictly evangelical Christian" as in how I was brought up. But here I am, and God knows my heart, and I am becoming far more assured that He is directing my paths, and giving me courage to share the gospel of the cross of Christ, and love Him and others with His love while leaving the work of the Holy Spirit up to Him. I do believe, more and more, that God is powerful enough to do His part (I think we often don't really believe that...) and that I can trust Him even when I can't "see" the answers to my prayers or understand His ways with my so-limited human heart.

A recent blog post from the Simple Church Journal, "Starting Churches Is Not the Mission," (by Roger Thoman) was a real encouragement to me, and a confirmation of how those jigsaw pieces in my spiritual puzzle have been fitting together. It stated:

Our mission always begins with people. The people whom God has called us to.... That is where we must begin to walk out an organic, Jesus-following, fruitful lifestyle with a Scriptural mission. And every one of us have different people that we are called to. Some of us are called to encourage and support out-of-church believers.... Some of us are called to work with people on the streets.... Some of us are called primarily to care for our own family for a season.... Some of us are called to work with [people of other religious beliefs].... Some of us are called to work primarily with [the groups of people we encounter in our work or recreation].... The ministry of reaching people, making disciples ... begins with the context of the people that God called you to.... the methods, and tools, and strategies will come out of the people you are called to work among. Stay there! ....focus on your mission to bring the Gospel and make disciples (followers) within that unique context.

Wednesday 4 April 2018

"Come Out From Among Unbelievers" Or ??

(Originally journaled February 15, 2018)

2 Corinthians 6: 14-18:
"Don't team up with those who are unbelievers. How can righteousness be a partner with wickedness? How can light live with darkness? What harmony can there be between Christ and the devil? .... For we are the temple of the living God...
Therefore come out from among believers,
and separate yourselves from them, says the LORD.
Don't touch your filthy things,
and I will welcome you.
And I will be your Father,
and you will be my sons and daughters,
says the LORD Almighty."

Dear God, how far are we to take this "come out from among unbelievers"? This seems so harsh. How will they know we are Christians by our love if we aren't living Your love in relationship to them?

And how do we know whether or not others are truly seeking and following You--and when what they believe seems perhaps quite similar to my beliefs but is different in some points--and even whether or not I myself am truly seeking and following You? It just seems like this is a lot more complex than this scriptural advice might suggest.

Am I to totally avoid people who claim to be Christians but have what seem to be "fringe" beliefs--or whose lives, political leanings, even church services seem to have bought into the surrounding culture? Or? Am I to totally avoid people who are not believers? How then do I reach out with the gospel? And what if I'm not even sure about what I believe and whether or not I'm really on Your path?

Please, please show me Yourself, show me Your truth, show me Father, Jesus, and your Holy Spirit. Help me to trust You, seek You, obey You, follow You. Please give me discernment. Please give me Your wisdom.  I want to trust You, no matter how things seem to me. I don't want to judge others, but leave judgment to You. How does that fit in with "coming out"?

Wednesday 7 March 2018


(originally journaled February 9, 2018)

I've been longing for a deeper walk with You, Lord.

I was listening to a radio program and one word, especially, hit me--"transcendent."

I have longed for years and years for opportunities to really study--but it never seemed the time was right, even though I got to kind of study alongside my husband when he was in Bible school; and to write and lead Bible Studies; and write those church newsletter articles; and participate in the street ministry; and blog, too.

And, recently, speaking engagements for Christian writers' groups (which made me feel a bit hypocritical, and actually made me realize how far I'd drifted from You).

And doing the Spiritual Disciplines study this winter.

But that word, "transcendent," (which was actually being used in a discussion about artificial intelligence [AI] and where it is taking us ... and the difference between super machine intelligence and general intelligence ... and how the latter is what, so far, separates us from machine intelligence)...

Well, You spoke to me through that word. I realized that in the past, my longing for study, though not wrong, was more based in my love of learning--a more intellectual, reasoning kind of approach--while now, in my older age, I am experiencing a longing to know You in a more intimate way.

To grow into Your mind (as in "Put on the mind of Christ") and to live in Your love and allow You to share it with others through me.

I did go through a time (or times, maybe) when I would hear Your voice and write it down and share it with others). But in that long period of depression and/or exhaustion, I seemed to totally lose that.

I am enjoying, even looking forward to my devotions again, with Your word and hymns and the Divine Hours and my written prayers. But I end with a feeling of "but shouldn't there be more?" I long to meditate, to hear Your voice. How?

Maybe I need to set aside my annual "read the Bible through" and just focus on one short scripture passage a day? And not forget to ask You to speak to me? "Centering prayer?" And not be afraid to write down what I hear--or don't.

Yes, I have been afraid. For a long time. Afraid to move from a rational (along with some emotional--peace, joy, etc.) knowing of You, to a more transcendent relationship with You--The Transcendent One.


(And then I opened the hymn book and the first words I saw:
     Be very sure, be very sure
     Your anchor holds and grips the Solid Rock.
     That Rock is Jesus ... the only one!)

Monday 26 February 2018

Those People

(originally journaled January 29, 2018)

I woke up suddenly from a dream in which 3 or 4 "street people" I am friends with were sitting in my house visiting and having coffee. This house was in the downtown area, and looking out the kitchen window, we could see other street people milling around down on the street.

As my friends got up and were leaving, lots of other street people came rushing in. But instead of going upstairs to the kitchen/living room area, they rushed in the bedroom area on the main floor where our family sleeps. I was nervous because these people sat down on our beds and easy chairs, and some of them had wet themselves and/or were dirty, and I was worried about some of them taking away personal items because I didn't know them.

I had to run upstairs to get coffee and food from the kitchen and then bring it downstairs to serve them. And some of them didn't seem to think I was hurrying fast enough. One lady I didn't know came and asked me for uncooked rice to take with her, and I told her I only had what I'd already cooked for my family for supper. She kept pushing me, being really insistent and demanding, and as I woke up, I was thinking, "Oh, I need to signal a couple of the people here who I know to come and rescue me from her," because I used to do that when I was with the God's Kitchen street ministry, and it always helped.

Then I woke from my dream and my stomach was churning and my head hurting, and the details stayed so strong and clear. I tried to distract myself by checking Facebook and even wrote a blog article on a totally different topic.  But I still couldn't shake the dream or settle my tummy. So I decided to write in my journal as that usually helps me unwind a bit. It did help me stop shaking but I still was feeling flustered.

I guess my concern for street people and others in various difficulties is deep within. And I still feel badly for stepping out on the God's Kitchen street ministry when my health was very poor for a time. In fact, I had to step out of all my activities other than family and work at that time, so I shouldn't feel guilty, should I?  I really was overwhelmed. But that was some time ago, and I've restarted a variety of activities, but not the street ministry which, when I think of it, exhausts me just to consider it. And to think that for a long time, I found it so energizing and joyful. What happened?

Sometimes I also feel guilty because I get annoyed about people who are pushy and demanding and feel entitled--but don't make any effort to change things or do things for themselves (or so it seems to me). I believe that we, as Christians, are to help the poor, but I feel conflicted about the poor who seem to actually enjoy their lifestyle, including drugs, alcohol, panhandling, and so on, and are really demanding to be served and taken care of.

There was a time when I wanted to be able to invite street people into our home for coffee. And I did, sometimes, at least the ones who were relatively safe, in my judgment. But my husband and children were really opposed--and probably for good reason.

My mom, when I was growing up, invited all kinds of "strange" people into our home for meals and events like Christmas, and fed them and gave them clothes, but they were people who were at least clean and had some kind of roof over their heads (ie. they were not living rough, though they were often very poor), and those who weren't overly disabled made some effort to be self-sufficient. They were always really grateful and I only ever remember one man (and his adult children) who was demanding and seemed to feel entitled. They also were not "drunks," and I don't think we actually knew any "druggies," although some of my friends my age were using marijuana and speed and such, but I don't think my parents had any idea about that.

So our family was helpful and kind to "odd" people, but I think those with addictions or really "non-Christian" lifestyles were just so outside our church/social circle. There weren't a lot of "drunks" in our small town, or at least they weren't really apparent to us. I don't even think it was a "religious" separation. We just lived very different lives, and even lived in different areas (the old saying, "living on the wrong side of the tracks," was a reality at that time). I know, looking back, that I was really ignorant and naive about students at school who came from "rough" backgrounds. I knew they were there, but they were in different classes/streams, and they tended to drop out as soon as they could.

Students from "those families" seemed to live a separate existence from the rest of us, and we didn't do anything about it because we really didn't recognize it--and I suppose our parents and other adults in our church/social circle were doing their best to protect us from evil influences? My parents were not "racist" or "upper class" or anything. And they certainly didn't intend to be prejudiced. In fact, most people thought my parents were a bit odd because they invited in all those "weird" people, and had friends of all different races and economic levels.

So I wasn't really even aware of people living rough, or on the skids, or addicted when I was growing up. When we'd go to the big city of Vancouver, we'd go downtown shopping at Woodwards, in the area now known as the Downtown East Side (DTES), and we might see the odd person passed out on the sidewalk or hanging around drunk at the doors of bars, but we felt safe, pretty much, and really didn't have any real connection. I suspect there may have been a lot of alcohol abuse back in the day, even in "church" families, but people kept it hidden in the closet.

Things are so different now. So many more people on the street, so much more obvious. So many people with drug and alcohol addictions, and it seems like nearly every family experiences to some degree the fallout of addictions from someone in their family or close friends. It seems like everything is out of the closet now, and though that really is a good thing in some ways, it perhaps means that with that knowledge, we have an increased responsibility to do something about it.  But still, with all that staring us in the face, it is so easy for so many people to live separate lives and fear and look down on "those people."

I'm grateful for those years I spent with God's Kitchen. I'm seeking God's direction on whether to return and help out again there. I got to know so many street people as dear friends. 

But then I have dreams like the one I just described and I realize that I still struggle with the ones who (it seems to me...) are demanding, greedy, entitled, pushy ... and yes, lazy...

Grant me Your wisdom and love, dear God. Please.

Saturday 24 February 2018

Talking to Father about Heaven (and Hell)

(originally journaled Jan 24, 2018)

I was just singing "What a day that will be when my Jesus I shall see, When I look upon His face, The One who saved me by His grace..." and I think I may have figured something out ... about why I'm so ambivalent about the whole idea of "heaven."

While I DO WANT TO BE WITH JESUS, I've found myself avoiding (sometimes almost "doubting") about heaven; yet it hasn't really seemed like doubting. As I was singing this hymn, it suddenly occurred to me that one reason I avoid thinking about heaven and even avoid singing songs like that, is maybe that's where people like my mom and dad and other loved ones are. And if I don't think about heaven, then I don't have to think too much about, and miss, and feel lonely for those who've gone on before.

And (getting to the core of this), not have to deal with my regrets, and with my guilt for not having been loving enough, and having been somewhat regretful about caretaking.

And by avoiding thinking about heaven, I can avoid remembering people when they were "falling apart" like my mom with her dementia and my dad when he was so disappointed to find out he had terminal cancer and would die at 82 instead of 90 like he, for some reason, had planned. And, yes, I can avoid thinking about myself growing old and possibly falling apart one of these days, too.

To be honest (just facing this, right now), it's also easier for me to think of people as "just gone" than to think of them still alive somewhere. And it really bothers me to think of them "looking down" at me--with all my failures. So many people seem to take comfort in that idea of their loved ones looking down and continuing to take care of them or whatever. At least that seems to be a really common Facebook theme! Though I tend to think it is unlikely they'd be doing that, because I can't find any Biblical reference to such a thing, to begin with; besides, if it's true that "there is no sorrow there, no more burdens to bear, no more sickness, no pain, no more crying over there" as the song lyrics say and scripture seems to back up, they couldn't be seeing our miserable world, could they? Could they?

I guess the other reason I have trouble thinking about heaven is that it then brings up the whole question of hell. It seems like most people I know don't even believe in hell anymore--though the ones that do, seem to hold with rather extreme "hellfire and brimstone" scenarios. I mean, maybe it's good not to "scare people into getting saved" by holding terrifying descriptions of hell over their heads, but it just seems that people have either decided that "God loves everyone and He's taking them all to heaven eventually," or, if people are really, really bad, maybe they'll go to hell, but it will only be those "very worst" people. (But I wonder, where then does one draw that line?)

I guess some people just believe that this life is "all there is"--but the thing is, most people I know (including people of many different religions, or at least beliefs or spirituality or whatever) do believe in some kind of positive after-experience, even if it's something like being absorbed back into the great spirit, or into Mother Nature, Gaia, the universe, or even nirvana, nothingness.

It's a negative eternal alternative they don't want to believe in. Even many of those who most strongly claim that this life is all there is, suddenly seem to waver when they lose someone close to them or are forced to face their own mortality when cancer or whatever strikes (though in the latter case, they may try even harder to act tough about their "this is all there is" belief and stick to their theory as desperately as possible.

But: is there a hell ... whether it's a fire and brimstone place, or a waiting for judgment day place, or even "death and separation from God forever" (which IS scary and we seem to want to avoid that, too, even if we claim to be secular and just another kind of animal)?

I was brought up to believe in a very real, vivid, forever hell as a place of great suffering, surrounded by demons and very evil people. And yes, it is very hard to deny, or even soften up in some way, what you've been taught from birth.

But I DO struggle with the thought of people--most people, in fact--who:

  • haven't heard the gospel (and that's my fault, right?)
  • have been born into terrible families and brought up very badly
  • have died before being old enough to understand the gospel and be saved (and/or baptized)
  • have been trained up from infancy to believe strongly in another religion or in a semi-Christian sect (or no religion at all)
  • have lived way better lives than many so-called "born again Christians"
  • have loved the Lord and followed Him all their lives but don't happen to belong to "our denomination" and don't believe and follow God exactly like "we" do...
I DO struggle with the thought of people like this getting thrown into that eternal suffering and punishment I was taught about. And it seems that as long as I feel unresolved about that, how can I feel joyful and anticipatory about heaven? 

On the other hand, if people have this happy-clappy idea that everyone (or almost everyone) goes to heaven or some other happy place, then will they personally feel any need to really follow Jesus?

Though, in my experience at least, I wouldn't want to live THIS life without Jesus--never mind eternity without Him. So maybe that's another reason I don't think so much about heaven: because the Kingdom of God IS here, now, something to be enjoyed, lived in and with already, with Jesus, Father, Spirit every day. Yes! In that sense, heaven isn't just the goal, the reward, something to hope for a look forward to; it's a present, living reality, too, even as we are surrounded by all that is not heavenly. 

"Hell on earth": what about that?

Please help me, dear God, to know the truth. Please. Thank You.

(And then I opened my Bible and there was Matthew 18:7-9....)

Tuesday 13 February 2018

Simplicity and Fasting

Today is "Shrove Tuesday" (yes, we're going to a pancake supper!) and tomorrow is "Ash Wednesday" and the beginning of Lent. So the following journal entry I wrote on January 8 (a month or so ago) is appropriate, I think.

My Christmas break wasn't quite the "fun holiday" I was hoping for. We had unusually cold weather, and my old slipped disc injury resurrected itself and I spent a good part of the break in big-time pain. And nobody even wanted to play Scrabble with me (sad, eh!).

But what I'm really thinking about is that I'm having a hard time spiritually. Yesterday at our home church gathering we discussed fasting (we've been studying the Spiritual Disciplines). Traditionally, of course, we think of fasting from food, but in my case, I'm seriously thinking about fasting from electronics. It would be hard. I feel so "hungry" if I'm not turning on the radio (when I wake up during the night, or driving in the car, or whenever) or checking email or Facebook or news on the computer. I don't turn on the TV myself (I don't know how to use the remote and the Xbox controller--on purpose; and we only have Netflix, not cable TV), but hubby loves it and turns it on frequently. If I'm doing something focused (tutoring, editing, writing) I can mostly ignore it, but as soon as I'm done whatever I've been focused on, I get so drawn in to the TV, especially programs about forensics or detective programs--and sci-fi, too. Yesterday was Sunday and could have been a restful time with You, but I ended up watching episode after episode of CSI New York. I also did a bit of email and Facebook (which I always promise myself I won't do on Sundays, but more often than not give in to at least a bit).

On another note, I've had an opportunity to join a "Mastermind" book writers' group, but honestly, while I do want to dedicate time to something (other than my business and family time), writing a book is not it. I do think I want to write, but I don't know what topic. I do want to do something focused on You (whether or not that includes writing, I don't know).

And I'm not sure what "writing Christianly" might mean; what You might want me to write about? Even "tutoring Christianly" or whatever else I might focus on doing "Christianly"?

Lord, I long for freshness and joy and peace (and some measure of happiness) in You. But I feel, more and more, my helplessness--and loneliness for other believers.

I do want to draw closer to You. I do want an assured firm knowledge of You and sense of Your Presence. And yes, I do want to know the joy of Your salvation.

Yesterday, when we talked about fasting, I longed to go deeper. And I am willing to fast (including from food. I do want to eat more healthy--fresh fruit and veggies, etc.) and to exercise and to majorly declutter my life in so many ways. (That was my big "plan" for the holidays: declutter. Ha! Constant pain interfered in a big way...).

I'm feeling overwhelmed by "clutter" -- even in my tutoring/editing/writing office. So many supplies I truly don't need or want.

My life feels cluttered.

I want simplicity: "the arrangement of life around a few consistent purposes, explicitly excluding what is not necessary to human well-being." (Willard).

Fasting seems like a good way to approach simplicity (with You). Please guide me into what You would have me do. Thank you.

Monday 29 January 2018

Questions in Prayer

(originally journaled Christmas eve 2017)

Lord God--Father, Jesus, Holy Spirit--

Are You here? Are You listening? Do you really answer prayer?

I know You do--but oh, dear God, why does it seem like our prayers and Your answers so often seem so far apart? I know You know best, and Your timing and plans and purposes are perfect, but...

And, oh dear God, my hopes and dreams and efforts seem so often to have been so wrong-headed and futile and helpless. I really, truly have tried (at least some of the time) to follow You the best way I knew how...

But what about my deepest cares and concerns about family and friends that just seem to go on and on. What about loved ones who don't seem to be coming to You? What about those, even those who love You and follow You, but seem to suffer loss and illness and other tragedies far and above what seems "fair"? What about people who have begged for Your healing and trusted You through thick and thin--and then they just get worse and worse? Are You in some way giving them extra-special love that the rest of us just can't see? Is suffering really Your best way of drawing us closer to You?

What kind of a world is this? What about all the people caught up in never-ending wars? What about children living in poverty, or born with the addictions of their drug-addicted parents? What about people stuck in refugee camps for years and years? Children starving to death?

What about politics that are tearing the world apart? What about the whole thing with America, under Trump, trying to make Jerusalem Israel's capital alone? What about the Palestinians who've lived there for thousands of years? Don't they deserve some part of it, too?

What about our uber-liberal society?

What about wars? Nuclear threats?


Where is "Peace on Earth and Good Will to Men"?

I want to "practice Your Presence" and follow You closely. Why am I finding it so hard? I know I went far astray for a while. I know I doubted You. I know I called down Your church (at least the sad, seemingly "wrong" parts of it).

But You know I've never really given up, never really denied You. (Have I?)

I know You've really taken care of our family, and we have few sufferings compared to so many people. I know You answer the prayers that have been prayed for my children--You do, I have seen many wonderful answers... and yet....

What about all the prayers I've prayed? The prayers my parents prayed over many long years? The prayers other family and friends have prayed? What about that? Are You still "working on" those prayers?

"God answers prayer."

"Thy will be done."

Aren't the prayers I'm referring to (You know what they are) in Your will?  Or is there still lots of time (and I'm just panicking because I'm getting older and feel like I'm running out of time...) and You really are working things out? Oh dear God, PLEASE answer!

I'm tired, dear God.

And I'm sorry for all my doubts and wonderings.

I need to put aside "me" and "my worries" and focus on You--and trust You to work these things out, right?


Friday 26 January 2018

Seeking God's Plans and Purposes--for Me?

Yesterday, I was reading the words of the morning hymn, Awake My Soul, And With the Sun, and the following lines stood out to me:

...Guard my first springs of thought and will,
And with Thyself my spirit fill.
Direct, control, suggest, this day
All I design, or do, or say;
That all my powers, with all their might,
In Thy sole glory may unite.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise Him all creatures here below,
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
- Thomas Ken, 1695, 1709

And then this morning I was reading a prayer that I have been praying for the past year or so, adjusting the words from time to time to reach its present form:
Lord, I pray for your plans and purposes in my own life. Help me to follow you, obey you, love you. Please guide me in my business, too. Help me to make right decisions. Show me how to focus every part of my life, including my writing--with God, and tutoring--with God, and speaking--with God, and church--with God, and family and friends--with God, and so on, knowing, obeying, loving, trusting and serving You. "With God." Thank You. Please be with me as I prepare for the new engagements You have planned for me--and may all I say honour and point to You, no matter the audience. Thank You for Your help and guidance, and Your amazing surprises and adventures! Your will be done always! Thank You for Your rest provided in surprising ways. Amen.
Like many--if not most--believers, I was taught early to seek God's plans and purposes ... for MY life. What career (and ideally, "ministry") should I plan for? What education (ideally, involving Bible School and/or seminary) should I get? Who is the mate You have planned for me? And so on  ... the "big plans."

Later, I came across a poem that reads, in part:

He does not lead me year by year 
Nor even day by day 
But step by step my path unfolds 
My Lord directs my way. 
Tomorrow's plans I do not know, 
I only know this minute; 
But He will say, "This is the way; 
By faith now walk ye in it." ...
What need to worry then or fret? 
The God who gave His Son 
Holds all my moments in His Hand 
And gives them one by one. 
- Barbara C. Ryberg 

And that was helpful because I realized that God's leading is in the small, everyday decisions, activities, thoughts as well as in the big plans of life--and I realized He really does care about each of MY moments. 

But this morning, as I read that morning hymn and as I reread my daily prayer, I began to wonder if "God's plans" are really so centred on me so much? I wrote the following thoughts in my journal...

What does it mean to follow God step-by-step, my path unfolding through His direction? Is it a detailed plan of His for my every step in life, or is it more a matter of just my life unfolding naturally--and in that, making moment by moment decisions based on what I've learned of His will and commandments, with His Spirit giving me deeper enlightenment and understanding of that? With an openness to His Presence and guidance: mainly spiritual, moulding my heart into the image of Christ, as mercifully He loosens me from my old sinful nature moment by moment?  And that change in my inner being then being reflected in my outer, physical and mental and emotional aspects of my being ... with the possibility then of unexpected, distinct changes of "big" directions and plans from time to time?

And though these are changes in ME, does that mean that "I" am the centre, the reason for it all? Yes, He loves me individually. Yes, He cares for me as much as for each of His children? But am I perhaps being more "ME-centred" that I should be? The words in my prayer stood out: follow, obey, love, know, trust, serve--and oh! What about "glorify God"?  Scripture's focus is always God-ward, isn't it! Read and meditate on the Psalms. Yes, the Psalmist cries out for help--but always, in the end, his focus returns to glorify God.  Is God's light shining in my heart always for MY benefit? Or is it for His glory? "For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus." (2 Corinthians 4:6)

And then there is "loving your neighbour". Are "His plans and purposes for me" sometimes more about His plans and purposes for others, for all mankind, for all His children, for my "neighbours" to whom I can reflect and demonstrate HIS love and mercy? Are "His plans and purposes for me" very often (most often, even?) about His plans and purposes for others, and for His glory, more than about "MY journey, MY life, MY purposes, MY plans"? (And if so, that does truly make my journey an adventure and surprise, doesn't it, as the focus moves to Him and all those He has created and loved.)

The ancient prayers of the church--and the prayer taught us by Jesus--do demonstrate His care and purposes for me ... but each of them ultimately points me back to Him as the Centre, as THE Purpose and Plan. We've often pushed away the "old-fashioned prayers and hymns and scriptures" in favour of ones (which we, perhaps ironically, call "worship choruses") that are really, when we admit it, ME-focused. It would do us well, I believe, to become a little bit more old-fashioned, realizing that those old-time prayers and hymns and scriptures have lasted for hundreds or even thousands of years because their focus is where it belongs! 

Our Father, who art in heaven,
Hallowed be Thy name.
Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done,
On earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
And forgive us our trespasses
As we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation
But deliver us from evil.
For Thine is the kingdom and the power
and the glory, forever and ever. Amen.

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow,
Praise Him all creatures here below,
Praise Him above, you heavenly hosts,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Glory be to the Father,
And to the Son,
And to the Holy Spirit,
As it was in the beginning,
Is now,
And ever shall be, world without end.

Lord have mercy,
Christ have mercy,
Lord have mercy.

Oh Lord, save Thy servants
that put their trust in Thee.

Wednesday 24 January 2018

Don't Know What You're Doing Until You Do It?

In her book, Bird by Bird, author Anne Lamott writes, “Very few writers really know what they are doing until they’ve done it.”

This is true, I think ... about writing, yes, but also about the believer's life journey. Maybe there's a need for less planning; a need for more just stepping out, and see where the, well, the stepping-stones take me. Step by step. 

Where You take me. 

And maybe, in my writing, just record my observations and learnings and thoughts and wonderings--and also the epiphanies, the amazing things You sometimes point out to me, that stop me in my tracks. 

Especially when those tracks of mine are maybe tending to take me off in directions where the destination is a dark, endless whirlpool instead of the far shoreline to which You’re leading me. 

Hmm…. Did that picture, those words, that bit of Light, just come from You? 

Thank You! Help me listen, please. And share…. Step by step. 

Monday 15 January 2018

Paying Attention to Your Presence

(originally journaled Dec 14, 2017)

I was hoping that You would "speak to me" like back in the day when You used to give me words to write down and publish for people to read.

But just as I started to sit quietly and listen right now, I feel/hear You urging me instead to pay attention to the many ways Your presence (and thus Your voice) is seen, heard, recognized, experienced all through each day. Like in Brother Lawrence's little book, The Practice of the Presence of God.

Yes! I have never been very open like that. Please help me.

Monday 8 January 2018

Springtime Inside (Though It's Winter Outside)

(originally journaled October 2017)

I just can't imagine how I got so deep in a hole for so long.

But I feel lately like my head--and maybe my heart, too--is reopening. I hope.

Lord, You know my heart. You know how the Spiritual Disciplines are arousing feelings and thoughts that I've buried for so long. As well as longing for singing and worship and prayer. Not just alone, but with others, with Your church, too.

Last night we were invited over to a friend's place for coffee. All day long I'd been kind of tired and flat. And then there I was--belly-laughing. Something that hadn't happened since ... well, I don't know since when. It just rolled out of me, and I was so astonished and couldn't stop it. Just good old-fashioned laughter over silly stories and memories.

Yesterday was cold, grey, and rainy at the start. So I put the garden to bed. Thinking, okay, I don't need to do anything about this for a long time. Long winter's nap, you know. And now, today, I am longing to get out and really garden--and go out into the countryside and forage, too. And start using my bike and/or walk every day.

Something is waking within me, stirring. Here it's well into fall and heading fast into winter--and my mind and heart feel like spring has come inside--March, spring break, early April ... Easter resurrection, maybe?

Thank you, Lord. I was feeling very afraid that I'd "left" You for so long that You'd not want me back. But You're here now. You are.

Thank You.

Saturday 6 January 2018

Wondering How Far a Writer Should "Get Into" a Character?

(I originally journaled this in Sept 2017)

Before I woke, I had a dream that helped me understand what fiction writers say about "getting into" their character--feel what the character is feeling, follow where the character leads, see from "inside" the character.

In this dream, I was laying relaxed on a park bench with a random group of young adults. I say "I" but, unlike my usual dreams, it wasn't me in particular. Rather, it was a young woman, perhaps between 19 to 22 years of age. She was dressed in jeans and a winter jacket. I don't really know what "I" (she) looked like because I couldn't see my face, though I know I had fairly long hair, dark, quite thick and a bit wavy. Remember, I was seeing through this character's eyes, so some things weren't visible, obvious, or immediately apparent.

People were coming over and joining the group while others were randomly wandering off. A young man, who appeared to have a kind of classic Italian look about him, wandered over and sat on the end of the bench I was laying on. The way he was dressed, it looked like he'd probably been traveling, and a few random things he said gave the impression he'd been traveling by bus, which, along with the other young people coming and going made me assume a bus depot was just "off stage," so to speak. We were all kind of lazily engaged in the kind of random conversations that strangers strike up in such a situation, and I felt comfortable and open, willing to see what might develop.

Eventually, the two of us got up and just naturally wandered off across a park field. At some point, I noticed he was wearing a long, fitted skirt rather than trousers. We were chatting, and he was telling about seeing the Edmonton area by bus, and I mentioned I'd been there too, but by car.

We were holding hands, and then he laid his arm across my shoulder as we walked, and I started noticing more details of the place and weather--a kind of grey, hazy, but comfortable wintry day. A couple people came by and said a word or two to us in passing, but mostly we were in this comfortable, quiet space together. I had an anticipatory, light feeling, wondering where this unexpected friendship might be leading, if anywhere. It didn't seem like he was trying to pick me up, but the possibility seemed to be lingering on the edge of my feelings; on the other hand, I thought maybe he was just looking for a moment of close, comfortable friendship during his journey.

And then I woke up.

The thing is, the whole dream moved slowly and dreamily--"dreamscape" really fits--but instead of being an external observer (as I almost always am if I try my hand at imaginative creative fiction), I felt like I was "in" my character, seeing, feeling, experiencing from her viewpoint, unfolding as events unfolded, kind of like a scroll slowly unrolling and spreading out. In fact, the whole walk across the snowy field felt that way.

I experienced a wondering at what might develop, looking off with a kind of curious anticipation across the wide, wide field to a hazy kind of horizon with what appeared to be a band of trees at its far edge ... and I felt I was just pleasantly walking into it as it was unfolding.

I wasn't exactly my character, yet I was her, within her and feeling at one with her, seeing and feeling from her own unfolding experience. This was a feeling I've not had before--and yet now I think I understand what writers mean about following and getting into and with their characters.

One side note: periodically, the "real me" would kind of interject, worrying about what my husband would think if he saw or found out I was like this with this guy--but I found that if I pushed that "me" out of the edge of my dream, I'd find myself safely back in her (while still not being her precisely, but an observer in a kind of intimate, knowing way that I haven't experienced before, except occasionally, to a degree, in a book or movie where I started to really relate to a character).

I wonder if this what a writer (and a good reader) needs to do--push one's personal conscious ego and mind of the way in order to live the character's experience? And if so, if that is a potential problem--an "opening oneself" to "outside forces" (eg. "principalities and power") that might come in and cause spiritual havoc?

I can really see how my upbringing (and thus beliefs that have stuck with me all my life, even when I've questioned and/or tried to rebel against them) may have been in some ways quite responsible for my inability to get out of my head and into a character's own personhood (physical, spiritual, mental, emotional). Physical and mental seem safe enough, but emotions, and especially potentially alternate spiritual experiences and understandings, have me jumping in and slamming the door like there's a huge "danger!" sign waving in my face. Is this a good thing, a safe thing? Or does it stop my imagination, empathy, creativity from flowing; does it inhibit my ability to inhabit other lives--those of my potential characters?

Is this why I've always had difficulty creating fictional stories and characters, although I certainly enjoy reading about them and watching them in movies--and observing real-life "characters"? In fact, I can help other writers develop characters, but for some reason, I've always run quickly into a "block" when I try to develop "my own" characters.

I wonder, do other writers have this kind of issue? What do you think? Have you experienced anything like this? Lot's of Christians write fiction; I wonder how they deal with this, or if it's just a problem I face?

Monday 1 January 2018

New Year 2018

I'm back ...

Well, actually I never was away, but the past 4 months have been incredibly busy with my Pen And Paper Mama Services business (tutoring and editing) and family responsibilities.

But I've been pretty faithfully following my "read through the Bible in a year" schedule (6 chapters a day, divided into the following sections: Genesis - Ruth; 1 Samuel - Job; Psalms - Song of Songs; Isaiah - Malachi; Matthew - Acts; Romans - Revelation). I also have personal daily prayers (which I outlined on here earlier in 2017), and I read and/or sing 2 to 3 hymns a day from the "Hymns of Faith and Life" hymnal (of the Free Methodist and Wesleyan churches). This summer I started doing "The Divine Hours" following the Prayer Manuals compiled by Phyllis Tickle (I highly recommend them). During Advent, I followed 2 Advent booklets.

For 2018, I will continue to follow the above plan, except that for this year, I will follow a "Thematic" plan which I am really looking forward to.

I also continue to "journal" -- not as regularly as I'd like, but hope to do so more regularly in this new year.

I have continued to gather with a group of believers at a small house church in our community--but have also been attending a local Anglican church sometimes (the more traditional service), and have also explored Eastern Orthodoxy and discussed Roman Catholicism with my aunt. I am happy to find that there are true believers in all these groups (as well as the other denominations I have attended during my life, as I've moved from small town to small town--Alliance, Free Methodist, Faith Gospel, Nazarene, Pentecostal, Mennonite Brethren, Baptist, etc. What a rich heritage the church of Jesus has, if only we keep our eyes focused on Him.

I look forward to sharing more of my journey here, and welcome your comments--let's have a great conversation!