STAND FIRM

(Lessons from the Canadian Rockies)

How do you teach a young man the underpinning principle called faith? How does one move a young man from the world of see and touch to the world of faith and vision? The world where God is viewed in greys to a world where God is in living colour? The answer is... you don't! That's not how it's done...

To say that the Canadian Rockies are rugged would in no way be an exageration. The wild untamed wilderness is alive and well in Canada and many people yearly they find themselves lost or experiencing some difficulties in the rockies with tragic results. The Canadian Rockies have taken their share of lives. So it was not a trivial thing when I found myself stranded on the top of a pass miles from the trailhead and unable to move.

Walking, hiking and camping have always been second nature to my Dad and his experience of growing up in Calgary and spending all of his teenage years in the backcountry provided him with a deep love for the mountains and all their grandeur. So as his son, I naturally wanted to join him on his adventures...that is until I turned 13. Then sleeping on the ground in a small tent just did not seem as fun as it used to. It wasn't cool. No girls.

But Dad who somehow always knew just what to say, suggested that maybe I would be interested in going hiking with a friend and he could come along as the guide, chief cook and bottle washer. Well I tell you that sounded great to this 13 year old. So on a warm day in July we set out from the trailhead and began our long trek into the formitable Rockies. Darryl, the friend who came along, was a young man who like many young men simply did not get that whole faith/God thing.

So we walked...and Dad talked... "Derryl do you see that mountain? God has provided that mountain for us. Derryl do you see that stream...isn't God great how he made that stream...He's a great provider." You get the idea...

As the day wore on, my God carefully and methodically set the scene in place to build into our lives the principle of faith.

Then my legs quit. Slowly at first... then more rapidly, they began to ache and strain. Rhabdomyolysis was setting in. (An acute, fulminant, potentially fatal disease that destroys skeletal muscle) I’ve had an acute case since I was was four and now in the middle of the unforgiving mountains my muscles were packing it in. With little water, due to the fact that we found ourselves on the top of a mountainplateau ...things, shall we say, did not look good.

So lying on a flat rock in the middle of a mountain meadow, miles down a trail from help, I stopped, unable to move, and Derryl pounced!

Where is your God now Mr. Wood? Where is that provision that you are talking about? Lying there... I was so angry I could spit! My Dad? He stood silent. Looking back down the trail from which we had come... he waited...silently. No more than 30 seconds after Derryl's question I looked at where Dad's eyes were focused and I noticed the distinctive view of a ranger cap rising over the top of the plateau's rise.

"Derryl", Dad said quietly, "that's a National Park Ranger... David is going to ride out on his horse" ...and it was ...and I did.

Paul said, "Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong." (1 Cor. 16:13) In our relativist culture the idea of standing firm is almost viewed as antiquated. At best, something from history, at worst a sign of a thoughtless, ignorant person. And yet, in the bible, we are encouraged to stand firm. WHY? Is God grey? He certainly is not when talking about our faith. His words are clear... (Do a bible search on the words stand firm and find out for yourself.) our faith in him must not be grey...because life is not grey... nor white...it's black...and out to kill you. Face it! None of us are getting out of here alive!

Faith is not a skill. It is not learned through lectures and notes...through truth read and items noted. It's not grown through blogs typed and responces discussed. If allowed... it is a living breathing reality that must be experienced to bring it to life. If allowed... Faith comes to life in the dark. If allowed... it grows strongest in the place of death. If allowed... It advances in the moments when all else has already retreated. If allowed... Faith is learned on the top of a mountain plateau on a day in July.

A wise man once said, "Faith is not faith unless it is the only thing you have left to hang on to."

So... Hang on!

FRIENDS ARE FRIENDS FOREVER...
SORT OF.

Have you ever left somewhere? I have. You make the announcement...set your plans...schedule your life and then...you have to do the most difficult thing imaginable. You have to tell your friends you're leaving them.

Now at first their response is always...you know.... positive... encouraging even. They smile with that half smile and congratulate you on the move that is occuring. They cry for a moment...or at least tear up as they try and maintain their cool and then...

... the challenges start...

It begins with the look...actually it's more like the lack of looking. When you see them they turn away...just for a moment at first and then more and more... as the day approaches. Then they sit farther from you at gatherings then they used to...and gravitate towards others, when all you want to do is capture that last few weeks...moments even...together. But that is not about to happen.

Time moves forward and the disappointment grows more and more. They get even more frustrated with you...without you ever knowing what is wrong. (Actually... neither do they.) Words are few and grow stronger and more angry as the days shorten. And then it happens... Mt. St. Helens erupts and words are exchanged... or worse Mt St. Helens does not erupt and instead continues to boil...and grow. (It can for years)

It seems to me that these feelings of frustration come not from the shallow seemingly meaningless relationships with associates that fill our lives with activity but rather with the few deep friendships that come along rarely. It is in these seemingly safe places that the deepest anger and explosions can occur. Of course... not because you don't love, respect or appreciate each other... but rather because you do.

A wise man, once said to me...it is far easier to be angry with someone then to say good bye. (And he was right.) We replace our feelings of deep loss and deep disappointment with anger because if we are angry we really can't be hurt as easily. It's a defense mechanism...

Now you all may be well aware of this and I may be the only one on the outside, but for those of you who are not...please forgive me if over the past few years I have been angry as you have felt my life. And I will forgive you as we have struggled through the feelings of loss and sorrow. I know this stuff... I have for years...but there is a difference between knowing something and knowing something...if you get my meaning.

So to all of you who I will miss terribly forgive me if I rant...get angry...or lash out! It is clearly only an example of the love I have for you... I just hate saying goodbye...

IF JESUS IS THE ANSWER...WHAT'S THE QUESTION?We are about to present the hardest hitting Easter Play that I have ever been involved with... and as we are preparing the final lighting cues and sound variations it is hard not to be completely blown away by the pain that this play presents. the characters in this play are in such deep pain that it is impossible not to grieve and cry with them.

Three Characters who are each deeply hurting are brought through time to the greatest moment in human history. When the God of all creation is cruelly nailed to a piece of wood and hung between heaven and earth. And what he did to answer the destruction that the world is loading onto people.

So...what do you think? If Christ the answer to all the garbage that happens in a persons life why don't people accept it? Why is it that people who seeming are deeply in pain run to the pain rather than running to the relief? Is it because intrinsic in the call of God for freedom is the understanding that God is asking for everything in our lives not just a part?

I was traveling through town yesterday and had the opportunity to talk to two young people who clearly were hurting. Further they clearly had known Jesus at one time in their lives. (He said he and attended a church in Abbottsford) When I mentioned about the play and invited them to come their response blew my mind. "That's great pastor Dave" they said, "We really do need a little salvation in our lives right now..." How does one received a little salvation? How does one receive enough of God to save your soul but not your purpose for living? How can the God of all there ever was or will be...be confined to the small box of salvation? And even within that box we say " a little salvation?"

Is it possible that it is the lack of commitment within our culture that removes Christ from being the God that we so desperately need him to be? Is it possible he's just waiting for us? Is it possible that God is not at all interested in how we feel about him...or how the world views us? Is it possible that God is expecting us to live and die for him and he does not give a rip about how we feel about it? Is it possible that God is more concerned about what is right, proper, and good then what is acceptable to us? I need a little salvation...they said. I am beginning to think that nothing is more offensive to God then that...But hey...what do I know?

“The world has yet to see what God can do with a man fully consecrated to him. By God’s help, I aim to be that man.” Dwight L Moody

God and God Alone...is fit to take the universes throne....and mine.

ROUTE 66

"If you should plan to motor west. Travel my way take the highway that's the best...get your kicks on route 66."

We did. My father and I.

The year was 1993 and it was January, and we had the dubious task of making it across the continent from London Ontario to Nanaimo British Columbia in the heart of a Canadian Winter. As this climate can do... it stormed to the point that all roads heading west were closed. The Yellowhead, the Thompson, and the Trans Canada Highways were all completely closed, as were the northern routes in the US... leaving us with few if any options. Now we all know that the shortest distance between two points may be, as the mathematicians tell you, a straight line but it is often not the one that the Lord takes you on.

So when I asked my father what we should do he simply began to sing. Yup...sing. Route 66. Your kidding right dad? That would take us to Sacramento California? I said. "Yes, he said, "...and it will be a great trip...history in the making". So we set out. Six days and thousands of miles later we arrived on Vancouver Island via Ontario, Illinois, Missouri, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, California, Oregon, and Washington State. And we had the time of our lives.

Life's lines are often winding and seemingly not really pointed at the goal that you intended. As it was when we travelled... but I would love to go back to that car and take just one more trip with my hero. Just one more moment to laugh so hard that we almost lose control of the wheel. Just one more lunch at a greasy spoon truck stop...just one more...anything.

When I went to London from Edmonton we travelled together...when I went to Nanaimo from London we travelled together...but this time...on April 30th. I leave alone.

Someone once said that life is not about arriving but it is rather a journey. If that is true I would like to encourage each of you to take a trip... get behind the wheel of a car with someone you love...and talk, laugh, joke and enjoy each other. Now...before it's too late...or you will find yourself on the long road of life...alone.

"LOOK DAD THE SHORE"

The rain was falling in those relentless vertical sheets that can really only happen on the prairies. As I dug into the water and pushed my paddle deep to really get a bite, sweat poured from my forehead stinging my eyes and leaving that salty taste in my mouth. Up into the air the canoe rose leaving this eight year old hanging in mid air for what seemed like an eternity until, “bam” we would clear the wave and the front end would once again slam into the lake allowing my paddle to again dig into the water. Minutes turned into hours as we struggled to get off the lake and safely get back to the car and the safety of shore.

The day started out so differently. It as sunny and warm as we stuck camp and the 20 scouts readied themselves for the hour long trip across long lake in Alberta. Laughter was everywhere as they threw their tents, packs and numerous finds back into their canoes and pushed off from shore. The canoe camping trip had been a wonderful time of cold water fights and warm campfires, comfortable sleeping bags to take away the chill and great bear stories to bring it back. And through it all he was there, Dad. Not out front like some of the other dad’s were. Trying to be cool… trying to fit in. No he was just there. Quietly setting up the camp, making the meals and preparing for our next great adventure. And now with a prairie storm roaring down on us in seconds, we were in the one of the great adventures of our lives.

The crying was the most frustrating. Scouts that yesterday were the toughest in the pack were now…crying wishing to be anywhere else then in their canoe. Their dad’s equally loud as they asked for direction and loudly cursed the storm and quietly cursed my dad for getting them into this mess.

But there he sat, strongly and clearly giving direction to the other canoes how to follow in a tight pattern to minimize the effects of the waves. There he sat, wind and rain hitting his face with more and more velocity, with water running off the brim of his hat hitting his soaked jacket and disappearing. There he sat, a rock.

“Turn around and paddle David we need to set the pace…set an example.” So I turned and faced the storm. From where I was sitting I could see no other canoes, nor the shore, just the waves. From where I sat all the crying and shouting behind me somehow was covered over by the wind and the slap of the paddles. From where I sat all I could see was the waves and all I could hear was my Dad. “Stroke, stroke stroke….ok switch sides David…now again…stroke.”

Now thirty four years later I again hear the voice of my Dad. “Turn around a paddle David we need to set the pace…set an example.” His voice echoes from across the lake to my desk where I sit today, just a few days before my own Fathers Day and my children listening to this father as I face the storms of life and trust my heavenly father that he will get us home safely.

Dad turns eighty this year, his scouting days are over, “the ground is just too hard…” he says, but his influence remains. With his faith strong and his eyes fixed on the shore he pushes out once again into the last paddle of his life. Not knowing whether this one will be a long or short trip he has prepared for the trip that must come to all. His pack is ready, his heavenly father has made a way and his determination is set. Courage, strength and integrity are all safely stowed with him. Faith is his canoe and Love has provided him with all he needs. So, on this Fathers Day Dad, I promise to turn my face to the task at hand and paddle…no wavering, no crying, no hesitation, just faith, because somehow I know that’s what you would want.

Look Dad… the shore.

David Vincent Britten Wood went to be with his Lord on November 6th. 2005.
I have the paddle still.

Grab Life by the Paintbrush!
Have you ever done this? Wanting to sell your house you begin a fix it up project list and then over the next few weeks continually ask the same question. "Why didn't we do that 5 years ago...it looks great!" Well I have. I've painted, moved furniture, sold junk, threw out almost anything that was not nailed down and now...I don't want to leave my house. It looks really good now. (sigh) Isn't that the way it always is... When it's too late to enjoy something we find ourselves with the thing we hoped for all along in our hands.

I've heard this phrase a hundred times..."Someday I will..." (fill in the blanks) If I hear that phrase any more I don't know what I'll do. You see... someday is in every sense of the word is today. I have watched as people have put off life in the vain hope that they will someday so this or that. I have watched as people who were planning to someday take that trip...buy that car...finish that house...(you know the drill) Never get around to it until it's too late.

Oh I know...that seems harsh but my encouragement to everyone who reads this or anyone who reads this is to jump at the opportunities that God is setting in front of you. It's like milk...drink it when it's fresh because you won't be able to go anywhere near it when it's old.

So today do something that is not on the to do list...or the bulletin...or the plan. Jump out of a perfectly serviceable aircraft...go catch the big one fishing (it's not just for seniors anymore)...go fly a kite...race a go-cart...anything really. Just as long as at the end of the event you can feel your heart beating and you know that you are alive. Because someday you won't be.

I love the church of Jesus Christ and I love the work that I do as a pastor but if I was do anything for the body of Christ this week it would be... to go into the world and have some fun... and take a non believer with you. Now everyone always assumes that I mean leave church in order to do that...but I don't. Where else can you plan these great adventures with the entire gang and have someone else make the coffee?

So do something today  ...not tomorrow...(if you're reading this after the seven....HURRAY!!! YOUR LATE... AND WE ARE WAY AHEAD OF YOU...SO CATCH UP!

THE LOST ART OF SAYING GOODBYE

I believe that there are few people, if any, well versed in this art. We have perfected the art of hello, today and excitement, but fail miserably in the art of goodbye, tomorrow and sorrow. It just seems that my Lord is at present teaching me this lost art.

My ignorance of my heart and health was the first to which I said goodbye. Sadly I watched as just over a week of my life removed more from me than I even realized.

Secondly I watched as I said goodbye to my father. A man of eighty in his body but 25 in his heart. A man who's personal integrity, passion for life and the mountains was the stuff of legends. (that he was pleased to relate to you if you were willing to listen. )

And now thirdly, I watched as the position of 13 years fades to black and the curtain lowers on the days in the sun. Lowers on the times of diapers and suckies...elementary schools and piano lessons... learning to walk and talk, but now raises on youth events and pizza parties...high school and band rehearsals... dating and marriage.

Yes... goodbyes are difficult.

I wonder how God perceived ours fretting about our goodbyes. Does he solely view them from his side and with his glasses placed at the end of his nose...shaking his head and saying..."my son don't worry about it... in time you will understand" or does he grieve with us as we simply cannot see through the veil into tomorrow and we fret and worry and grieve and cry. I wonder.

Goodbyes are simply not something that you get good at... It's an art that God himself is not good at. I'm sorry but I think that even God the father is bad at it. He's never had to do it for long and when separated from his son... he covered his creation and shook it in response to the feeling. No...even he is not good at goodbye...

This is an art form that is more like modern art and less like the classic masters. Throw the paint up on the canvas because it's going to hurt like anything so you might as well let it out, and throw it as hard as you can. In the end the goodbye will not look at all like you thought it would and it is God's responsibility to make it come together. So throw away...let Him deal with it.

So...Goodbye...all of you...I will miss you all tons...but especially you Dad....especially you.