Take Time to Smell the Sap.

My father in law once said that a summer's duration is directly proportional to the length of time we have spent on the planet. You know... when you were a small child summer lasted forever... because it was a small percentage of the whole, but as time passed the percentage decreased and with it our perceived length of the  summer months.

Well no better example of that is demonstrated to me then this photograph. 

This is a shot taken of my home in Edmonton, Looking out the front window of that home at a very special place. Except that that place no longer exists. Now don't get me wrong, the home still stands complete with its new exterior, straight walk and fresh coat of paint, but this place...does not. To the untrained eye it simply looks like a poorly kept front yard, with a poorly built bench and badly laid brickwork, but that my friend would be to the untrained eye, for this place was much more.

This place was a special hidden sanctuary built by my father, to take him back to the mountains. Back to the place where God speaks clearly, and the world is at peace. 

You see here, my dad had carved out the inside of four large pine trees, removing their lower branches in order to build a place to just rest and think. Here he would sit and listen to the wind whistle through the pine needles and remember tall stands of Douglas firs on the west side of the continental divide. 

Here he would smell the sweet aroma of the pine sap as it slowly, ever so slowly dripped from the cut marks on the side of the trunk and remember being the first to blaze trails into lakes that were not even named on the map. 

Here, his friends, the squirrels and bunnies would visit and take him back to the grizzlies and cougars that would have visited his camp years earlier. 

Here my father could be at peace. 

That was nine years ago that I last sat in his sanctuary under the pines... nine years ago that we shared hiking stories while enjoying a iced tea in among those pillars. 

Now the summers that used to crawl by, flies. My children who only a moment ago were with Grampa under the trees, listening to the moment that the bear ran away with his camera, are now beginning to graduate from University and start their own adventures. And the place of peace and rest is no more.

Life is like that you know. Like the song says, you don't know what you've got til it's gone. Well now it's gone and with it memories are fading along with the smell of pine and the sound of the wind. 

But for a moment this summer let me encourage you to stop and smell the Pine, touch the bark, stick your fingers together with the sap, and look under the logs for the squirrel. It is then and only then that you will bring back those things that are most dear, even if only for a moment.

Have a great summer.

Waves. 

Waves. Small waves roll forward and then swiftly back. They roll on an ever changing bed of sand. The wind slowly gives up on pushing the clouds away and soon the waves are joined by droplets of rain. It's a beach. Just a beach. Just an ordinary, wet, cold, beach that looked perfectly safe. Then again, no beach is safe in 1944. 

The calm waters soon reflect the hue of grey steel. A landing craft. Then two. Then three. Then dozens. Waves. The ships are packed full with men, guns, equipment and desperation. The landing craft chugs along at an unwavering speed determined to carry the men in green to their adversaries in grey. The steel boats look like coffins and when the guns start firing, they are. 

The beach is hell. The onrushing soldiers trying to avoid the death stroke of a bullet to the chest. Most succeed, others fail. None of these attacking men feel like the "Great Arsenal of Democracy". None of the men in the blockhouses feel like "The Great Evil of our Time" either. They just feel either the need to survive, or the yearning to die. 

As the bullets whizz past the on rushers, slowly and steadily they gain ground. The defenders who had taken the lives of the men on the beach just seconds ago are now the object used for the bloody satisfaction of payback. And then the beach falls silent again, only interrupted by the faint cries of the dying and the wailing. 

4,200 lives. 4,200 families that have to be crushed. All of this for five miles of beach. five miles of beach that is covered with the dead. 

But that was 70 years ago. Why are we remembering that battle? We remember because of their bravery. We remember because of their immense sacrifice. We remember not to glorify their fight or to somehow endorse the death inflicted that day. We remember our fathers and grandfathers so that we do not send our sons to a similar conflict.

A Blog written by my son...David Andrew Vincent Wood (IX)

a grandson of a WWII Veteran, my dad...David Vincent Britten Wood.

 

We're all Vagabonds!

He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater...

He sendth more strength when the labours increase...

to added affliction he added his mercy...

to multiplied trials his multiplied peace...

How often we see ourselves as not fitting in...
We wander aimlessly, as a Vagabond. By definition: a person who wanders from place to place without a home or job.  Oh I'm sure that does not describe your actual life but rather your spirit... are you restless?

Are you aware that God's love for you is not some disconnected passion that has nothing to do with your day to day living but is rather a practical love that is built around the person and character that God made...when he made you.

Often in this life we perceive God's love as something that happens right after, "Once Upon a Time..." and right before, "And they lived happily ever after..." 

But the truth is quite different. 

God's grace and love is more like... "it was during the big fight..." and "while they were noticing the bottom falling out."

God's grace is found in... "God wants me...not anything that I can do."

"You only hurt as much as you love, which to God is why he hurt so deeply."

"God's grace is poured out like Niagara. How can we now measure out our love"

How often we measure ourselves and find our lives measuring short of the requirements of the Word of God, short of the expectations of God's love, or the qualifications that would provide us some vain justification for claiming a living active relationship with a Holy God. Instead, we measure and find ourselves...wanting. Weak. 

And yet it is in this very state of weakness where we find the greatness of our Lord.

There is nothing on earth like the fellowship of losers found in the christian church. 
There is nothing like the poor, broken that have been called by name by a grace dispensing God.
There is nothing like the vagabonds and the human refuge that are rescued by the spirit of the Lord through his grace.

For each of us are losers (all have sinned and fallen short Romans 3:23) each of us are poor and broken ( "Healthy people don't need a doctor--sick people do. I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners." Mark 2:17) each of us are the vagabonds and human refuge that God loves. ("Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners"--and I am the worst of them all." 1 Tim 1:17)

We all have carried the weight of sin into and onto our lives...enough to condemn us to death and yet we have been given grace by our loving father. It's time to remember just what he has done....and who are are!

... and still loved!

You can be more than you are... 

but not more than you see!

How often we hear ourselves say, I can't do that, I can't reach that high, I can't continue, and I can't win! And yet if the truth would be known the only thing that restricts your ability to reach to the level of success that you want or the victory that you would like to achieve, is your ability to see the end from the beginning.

Vince Lombardi once said,
“The difference between a successful person and others is not a lack of strength, not a lack of knowledge, but rather in a lack of will.”

 Oh, I know what your thinking... Chappy is going off on some brain game to psych us into a great mindset that we can use this coming football season. But if that is your thinking your level of success is already established for you before you try. My desire writing today is to shake us out of the mindset of being a good football team. In the same way, I want to shake us out of the mindset of being a good person, a good parent, a good friend,  and move us into the world of the great!

Now I'm not describing a momentary change. I'm not describing a single decision that instantly changes the course of our lives and takes us from the place of safety to the place of victory? But rather an internal change, a paradigm shift that creates a new beginning in our core that will grow and change everything. (eventually)

Jim Collins the author of Good to Great says it this way.

"In each of these dramatic, remarkable, good-to-great corporate transformations, we found the same thing: There was no miracle moment. Instead, a down-to-earth, pragmatic, committed-to-excellence process—a framework—kept each company, its leaders, and its people on track for the long haul. In each case, it was the triumph of the Flywheel Effect over the Doom Loop, the victory of steadfast discipline over the quick fix. And the real kicker: The comparison companies in our study—firms with virtually identical opportunities during the pivotal years—did buy into the change myths described above—and failed to make the leap from good to great."

Real change is when we choose to own the change individually. When we each look deep into our lives and see the personal transformation that must occur that will facilitate our lives.

Jim Collins continues...

"Picture an egg. Day after day, it sits there. No one pays attention to it. No one notices it. Certainly no one takes a picture of it or puts it on the cover of a celebrity-focused business magazine. Then one day, the shell cracks and out jumps a chicken. 

All of a sudden, the major magazines and newspapers jump on the story: “Stunning Turnaround at Egg!” and “The Chick Who Led the Breakthrough at Egg!” From the outside, the story always reads like an overnight sensation—as if the egg had suddenly and radically altered itself into a chicken.
Now picture the egg from the chicken's point of view. 

While the outside world was ignoring this seemingly dormant egg, the chicken within was evolving, growing, developing—changing. From the chicken’s point of view, the moment of breakthrough, of cracking the egg, was simply one more step in a long chain of steps that had led to that moment. Granted, it was a big step—but it was hardly the radical transformation that it looked like from the outside."

Vince Lombardi said,

“You never win a game unless you beat the guy in front of you. The score on the board doesn’t mean a thing. That’s for the fans. You’ve got to win the war with the man in front of you. You’ve got to get your man.”

But as the Chaplain of the Wildcats and as a Pastor at WECA I would like us all to consider that the man in front of you is only clearly seen when we are standing in front of a mirror. Our greatest adversary is not some lineman on the opposite side of the line of scrimmage neither is it some person or situation that stands in opposition to your plans or endeavors but it is rather that individual who stares back at you when your brushing your teeth. He is the real challenge, he is the one who wants to settle, wants to just be good, get by, rest.

“If you’ll not settle for anything less than your best, you will be amazed at what you can accomplish in your lives.”
Vince Lombardi

So guys (everyone) as we set out into the season with the intention to win it all, take the time to tackle the man in the mirror. Don't let him allow you to settle for a life that would just make you good. Don't allow him to create an attitude that would give you an out. But rather tackle him, take him and hold him down until you have the character and the belief that you won't settle for good.

I'm with you guys until the final whistle... with you until we sing "that song" after the final down.

 Chappy (@wecadave)

THE BIBLE IS SCARY... AND I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT ANYMORE!

Recently we were blessed with an intense three week study on the book of Revelation. Three wise gentlemen who have studied the words of Christ as revealed to John for the largest component of their lives taught, shared and answered questions. 

After listening to three excellent explanations about the book, it's complexity and exciting stories, the listeners were confronted with a couple of clear thoughts. 

[1] Christ is the LORD and He is in charge, right to the very end of the age. 
[2] The book of revelation has a depth that is not easily plumbed on a glance or a mere scan. It is instead a book that must be unpacked with thoughtful and careful study and discussion. 
[3] The words of the book without thoughtful and careful discussion can be TOTALLY FRIGHTENING! 

It is with this last thought that I reflect on today. Here is the question... 

If a subject material is frightening to the listener because they do not yet have the understanding with which to decipher the truth through the complexity, should there be an obligation on the teacher not to teach in the hope that they would not offend or frighten the listener? 

Is the reaction of the listener the responsibility of the teacher, or spoken plainly, if the material is scary should the material not be spoken of at all?

This problem surfaced this week as a person who attended Sunday night's discussion on the last three chapters of revelation was so scared that they were going to be judged by God that they left the evening service feeling disconnected from the faith family and from the faith that they thought they knew. 

The faith that they thought they knew was a faith that God had promised to save their family if they only lived lives hard and pure enough to be accepted but God. A faith of works, hoping that the Lord would accept their efforts and therefore there family would in turn also be accepted. 

Now we know that the hell fire and brimstone messages of the previous century probably are not as readily accepted by the do not offend at any cost crowd of the North America today, but the message Sunday night was miles from the hell fire messages of yesteryear. It was many things but what I believe scared this sister was the message on the BEMA seat judgment or the judgment of the saints. 

That is the teaching that the saints of God upon welcome to heaven will be judged according to the opportunities achieved and lost.  

You know how it goes...a robe of white... a crown of gold... a harp... a home... a mansion fair.  

So what do you think? Should the crowds sensitivities determine the content of the messages from the pulpit or should if determine only the delivery. 

I would love to hear from you...
...is there a place for the bible to be scary?
 

I present for your inspection the 47th graduating class of Wee College...

It was very scarey when he first stepped into the room. Twenty other little people were already there, waiting with their Moms and Dads... waiting for the beginning of something that had never been done before. The nervous talk of the parents over shadowed his nervous shuffling feet. He noticed all of the other four and five year old kids of course but it did not make him feel any better. Motionless he stood, waiting. Not one of the other little people were talking or so much as moving as they hung onto hands, skirt hems and jacket sleeves waiting...waiting... 

"What are we doing here, mom...? I want to go home!" 
"Mom don't you leave me?"
"Should I cry?" 
" I need to pee..." 

All these and many other  thoughts were flooding into their hearts and minds.

Then suddenly, into the quietness of this little room in the second floor classroom she walked. Bright and smiling, "Hello everyone", she said, as she stepped into the room and shut the door. It was Mrs. Bright Smile... Her big bright smile on her face was there no doubt, but it was doing nothing to waylay his fears as all he could see was the door shutting and this person he had never met standing in front of the only exit.

"Hello everyone...", she repeated. No one moved, no one spoke, no one wanted to be there. His mother nudged him forward with the kind but clear direction that only his mother could create at a moments notice. "Say hello... you would not want to be rude would you?" his mom said, motioning for him to stand up and speak up, like he had always been taught to do...

"Hello..." the voice trailed off into silence as the energy behind that small greeting drained from his entire body and disappeared into a whisper and then onto the floor as his face dropped from view. It was clear now...Mom was going to leave him with her... Mom was going to leave him with this...with this...smiley person. Mrs. Bright Smile... too happy, he thought...way too happy. He would have none of it. Turning to face his mother and away from the smile... he wanted to run...he wanted to plead with his mother not do leave him there... to take him with her where ever she was going. And then through the emotion of that moment he heard two words that would forever change the course of his life.

Now don't let that statement wash over you with the assumption that the author is waxing on and exaggerating the magnitude of those two simple words, but listen closely as I say them again. Just as he was about to cry or hide in the folds of his mothers skirt, run or refuse to be left behind... two words were sounded that forever changed the direction of his life.

The words? Why... they seem silly to place such weight behind them. For all she said was..."LET'S SING"

Sing? Did she just say sing? Why he loved singing. "It was the best and most fun a person of four could have", he thought. He sang everyday. When he woke up he sang, and came into the kitchen to grab his breakfast, he sang. He sang as he played in the back yard or as he walked home from playschool he sang. Loudly and with his whole heart he sang... and now this smiling face was inviting all the little people to sing. The lure was too much, throwing caution away he quickly left his mothers side and he plunked himself down on the floor right at the feet of "Mrs. Bright Smile"  He looked up as she smiled down and nodded approvingly. 

"We're going to Wee College and we are gaining knowledge... learning from the precious word of God." 

"The B.I.B.L.E yes that's the book for me...I stand alone on the word of God... The B.I.B.L.E." 

The words came easily and the melodies even easier as he learned the new songs and then sung them back as clearly and brightly as he could. He was going to like this Mrs. Bright Smile after all he thought... 
after all... 
after all... 
after all...these years I find my eyes once again filling with tears as I remember the songs of Wee College. Written by Shirley Taitinger these songs still come back to my memory complete with hand actions. 

To others in that room that day. Becky Smith, Donna Foley, Rod Kroeker as well as many others, that very first Wee College ever taught was an experience that changed all their lives. For some it was through the memorization of scripture.  To others it was the fine lessons we watched and heard under the excellent teachers of that course. To yet others it was the fannel graphs, the latest colour ones illustrating the bible stories bringing many of the truths to light. Of course those lessons have stood the test of time and have provided each of them with the foundation upon which they built their lives. But it was the songs for me... the simple songs written by this amazing woman of God... It was those songs that I have sung down through the years imbedding them into my subconsciousness and into my story that points the way for me, even in the darkest times. 

It was many many years ago and three ladies from Central Pentecostal Tabernacle Church in Edmonton began a simple yet amazing program to teach little people the truths of the word of God. It was many many years ago when the first theme for Wee College was sounded. Shirley's themes have now echoed across the nation and around the world with clarity and passion. Echoed into the hearts of other little people, other musicians, other pastors and leaders, other men and women of God... in the making. But it was that day that my music, my knowledge and my spirit came to life. And that flame has not extinguished an ounce even to this day.

So with that said, allow me to say thank you to Shirley... When asked at the last general conference in Ottawa she said, "I really did not do much... I only wrote the songs." Not only Shirley... not only. 

Oh wow...look at the time... I can't believe all our minutes have moved so quickly by... it time for our good bye song... remember it everyone for it will help you each day this week until we meet to sing again...

"Wee College is almost over and we are going home....good bye... good bye...be always kind and good... good bye... good bye...be always kind and good."

WELCOME TO THE TEAM...?

Design vs Depression

Have you ever wondered why God has designed you the way that He has? Have you ever sat in front of a mirror and cursed the design that you see? Have you ever thought that God made a mistake when he placed you together and released you into this world?

When you read Psalm 139: 14 "I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made your works are wonderful,  I know that full well." do you throw up a little bit in the back of your throat? Well if this is the case...welcome to THE TEAM. 

You know... THE TEAM!

THE TEAM of people who specialize in beating themselves up at a moments notice.
THE TEAM of people who believe that their lives do not measure up to the models of strength, spirituality, beauty or intelligence as those places in front of them daily.
THE TEAM of people who read this passage and curse the God who designed them the way that they are, wishing beyond hope that they were something else, someone else, or at least had some talent or ability other then what they have?

You will know you're on THE TEAM if... when you heard the parable of the talents, you assumed that you were either the one with the one talent or the one with few, and not the one with many talents. 

Well if this is you, I have some advise for you... YOU'RE ON THE WRONG TEAM. 

I remember the story of the gold medal winning duck who was looking to make varsity track and field team. The gun would sound and no matter how hard the duck tried to win, his small legs just could not move fast enough to reach anywhere near the speed of the rest of the squad. The duck worked out, bench pressed and try as much as he could but the race would be won by the rabbit and the cheetah every time. 

 His frustration only grew when he tried out for "Shot Put" but the boar with a simple flick of his snout was able to best the ducks distance by a whopping four yards. And he did not even try to best the high jump score of the kangaroo, somehow the kangaroo was able to sail over the bar with ease and the duck just knew that he would be disqualified if he so much as flapped his wings once...

Just as it is not right for a duck to be on the wrong team it would not be right for you to neglect the gifts that God has placed in you thinking instead that you simply don't measure up. 

God, the designer did not intend you to live your life with a downcast heart. Nor did he intend you to live your life wishing for more, wanting the gifts or ability of another. But God designed you to be fulfilled with the amazing and wonderful work that you are. Made fearfully and wonderfully. 

So as an encouragement to you today, take a moment and release your heart from the burden of THE TEAM. Recognize that if those around you are placing undue restrictions on your life and ministry that you may be on the wrong team. God intends you to life a life full of the wacky, wonderful, and weird... all that makes up you. Discovering your design is a journey that each of us must take. My prayer for each of you is that you will find the assistance you need to be able to unearth the treasure that is....

You!

Oh and by the way... the duck won the gold medal in long distance swimming. The elephant wasn't even close and the giraffe was disqualified for walking across on the lake bed.

Ryan Smith Day in Edmonton

THE EDMONTON SUN REPORTED:

"Mayor Don Iveson proclaimed April 12 “Ryan Smyth Day” in Edmonton on the day of the longtime Oilers forward’s retirement.
Iveson made the proclamation Saturday morning on Oilers TV, citing Smyth’s popularity and achievements in the National Hockey League as well as his off-ice contributions to the Stollery Children’s Hospital and Inner City High School in Edmonton."

To add our voice to this already huge cheer from the city of Edmonton...

WELL DONE RYAN.

WELL DONE: for being the excellent hockey player with grit and determination.
                        : for being the hockey player declared to be "CAPTAIN CANADA" reflecting the pride and determination with which you represented our country in international play for 3 decades.
                        : for proudly representing Edmonton to the country, the NHL, and the hockey world.

BUT MORE THAN ALL THAT...

WELL DONE: for being a man of intergrity in everyday little things.
                       : for choosing family over fame and fortune.
                       : for being honest with your feelings even when others did not understand or relate.
                       : for being a husband first... a dad second and everything else third.
                       : for being an example what a real man looks like and acts like.
                       : for making the tough call to step aside when pride could tell you otherwise.

AND LASTLY AND MOST IMPORTANTLY...

WELL DONE: for being a honest follower of Jesus. Being real, and still a Christian. Refusing to allow culture to, in anyway lead you away from your faith.  To live so your actions are more clear than anything you would say. ( a rare feat indeed )

 
So on behalf of myself, my family and the entire WECA family. WELL DONE!

I HAVE A QUESTION!

Does Gods process of making something beautiful that previously was broken
... always mean that the beautiful thing is no longer broken? 
... ever mean that the beautiful thing is no longer broken?

Or instead does the brokenness of our lives simply provide the backdrop onto which we paint the colours of our walk and journey through life?

Recently, I have been watching an individual deal with the loss of  family...  passions and relationships. BROKEN would be a kind way to describe the difficult pathway that is being walked. BROKEN to the point where no vision for hope or reconciliation is anywhere on the horizon. 

For the past 36 years I have been in the front row as I have watched my sister struggle through mental illness and depression, BROKEN. I was there as my mom and dad loaded us all up into the station wagon and we headed down the sawdust trail, ( an old reference to the camp meetings ) in the hope that a person of faith would impart into my sister the freedom and restoration that she clearly needed. Yet no healing was precept-ably given, no new sister emerged, no "healing or deliverance occurred... complete with restored memories and refreshed intellect... and yet...

For my entire life I have been carrying around the design flaw (?) that has threatened my life BROKEN. On at least four occasions the sword of Damocles has been hanging over my head, ready at a breath of air to fall and strike me down. Or to at least break me again.

It is against this stark dark backdrop that I ask my question...

As people of faith we understand that with God nothing is impossible and all broken people can be made new, all broken relationships and passions can be restored, and that all broken bodies and minds can be reborn. We sing about it, we preach it, we believe it. But does God always intend it? 

Before you start heating the tar and plucking chickens let me have a moment to explain. 

This world is broken and we are just as broken and in need of the life of Christ to breathe into our mortal bodies and hearts. But when God breathes he often leaves the scars from the wounds of our situation in tack. They are often there to remind us of the pain from which we have been rescued and the reality of His Gospel. 

God the father, resurrected Jesus from the dead, and restored to him the mortal body that was his since before the beginning of time. BUT IT WAS BROKEN! This time the supernatural body that Jesus had was complete with scars on his body. Not just the ones on his hands and feet but a hole big enough in his side that Thomas could have placed his hand into it. Christs God given glorified, eternal body was BROKEN and by no means perfect, pristine or flawless.

Do you carry the load that this existence has given you? Does your hand brush against the scar from a previous encounter with the absolute certainty of lifes brutality? May I pray for you.

May I pray that the grace of God rather than the grave of this world define you? May I pray that the intensity of Gods love, rather than the indifference of this worlds friendship restore you? May I pray that the wounds of the your treatment at the hands of a tyrant would through Gods love become the scars of your testimony in the hands of a saviour? Lastly, May I pray that the reality of Jesus pain bring you to understand that above all powers... above all things, Jesus gets you?

May I...? I hope so because I just did.

"Follow Me as I Follow Christ..."  

The Sad Post-Modern Twist on Mentoring.

Really?

So here is the question. Is it the responsibility of the student or the responsibility of the teacher to initiate the mentoring? Whose job is it to chase after the other... to communicate... to share?

This idea seems really simple. But I don't think it is. Why, may I ask, does this generation insist that there are no mentors available, and that no one wants to mentor them...? 

You know how this goes, it usually starts with the post modern church leadership decrying the fact that no one is willing to spend the time... no one is willing to invest in their lives and their ministry.  But maybe there is more to this... Is it possible that the post-modern leadership structure has developed a self serving model that no longer reflects true mentoring?

Is it possible that the post-modern church leaders no longer understand the truth of the verse, "Follow me as I follow Christ..." or have they considered the Jewish proverb, "May you be covered by the dust of your Rabbi." The implication is that the student chases the mentor.

Having been raised in a generation where everything has been given easily and without cost, do they assume that the process of mentoring would simply be handed to them? God did not setup the growth of man's character as an easy process nor a quick one, but rather one that is tedious and painful, lengthy and difficult. You have to follow, and that requires work.

So... If you wish to be mentored then find a person who you believe has the character and qualities that you want to emulate and chase after them. The mentor will be doing what they have been called to do. That's it. They will not be out looking for you. If you believe in them and their character, follow them, get close to them, watch them, ask them questions and then listen to what they say.

 

QUICK... HE WENT THAT WAY!

The mentor may not stop to wait for you. But rather they will look back over their shoulder and notice you there, and then ...pick up the pace, checking to see if you are willing to follow.

As I mentor, I have only limited opportunity and energy to invest.  I keep in mind the end of this story, the end of my life, and I have to accomplish the task that Christ has set out for me. But I am more than willing to have someone run along side and to pass the baton.

So as I said to one person recently... after they asked to be mentored, "...better buy some running shoes..." and I turned and walked away. 

(p.s. They picked up their books and ran after me... a good start!)

Go ye into all the world and make a movie?

This morning I awoke to read the wonderful world of scathing Christian movie critics... Primarily friends... Reporting back on the movie "Noah".  It appears (I have not yet seen it) that the movie has left the biblical narrative and has left a sour taste in the mouths of Christians who feel that God was misrepresented..

Sigh...

How can I say this politely? God did not ask us to share the truth of His character through the simplicity of the silver screen but through the messy distorted and often confused reflections of our lives.  Once again we are attempting to buy our evangelism. Shot gun evangelism. "If we just get the gun pointed correctly at people who don't know the story that somehow the story will bring heart change and repentance will occur.  BLAM!!!   There! Take that! Now do you know God yet?" This is not only NOT biblical it simply is complete nuts!

It appear from the communication being printed and spoken through Facebook, Christian Blogs and discussions throughout the Christians subculture that some Christians are somehow disappointed for God that He is being painted as a distant heartless vengeful deity that is hellbent on destroying the world with little to no discussion or negotiation.   SPOILER ALERT!    Read the bible.  He clearly is that... in this story.  

Yes we understand the entire narrative of his grace and mercy... And we get the need to protect the redemption plan that God has designed for man... but come on people.... The entire population of the world is destroyed in a single planned attack!  This is not the simplicity of the bible story on flannel graph. (As the bad people simply get lifted off the poster board and placed back in the box.) If you believe the bible and its truth, millions of real people were viciously and ruthlessly destroyed and covered by millions of gallons of water and died as they drowned in fear and distress.  What part of that story fits with our modern church sensitivities? "Be careful...don't offend anyone... they might not like our God."

Is it our desire to let the writers and producers in Hollywood to somehow bring repentance to the world? Is it our desire to want Hollywood to characterize God on our behalf? That thinking is empty at best and irresponsible at worst.

This Easter we are telling the life changing story of the viciousness of the cross. But not in some distant narrative -  rather in the messy, confusing often repulsive stories of Christ in us... The hope of glory.

"Beauty in the Broken." 

I'm broken... And yet God! This world is broken...and yet God. You're broken...and yet God! Jesus was broken...and God!

The distant God of Noah with His purity, holiness, jealously, righteousness and truth offends... But it needs to! Its reality needs to sink deep into our hearts to allow us to see past our false sense of entitlement and self security, to the place of brokenness and need that brings reality to our lives. For without that reality we will never see or know the closeness, mercy, long suffering, redemptive, justifying grace of God, paying the price for the world so that we would not need to.  

 
Enjoy the movies, but don't release the responsibility to reflect God's character and love to the world to the thin veneer of the silver screen, but rather allow your wounds and scars to be filled with the grace of God and His character clearly seen through the drama of your broken life. The three dimensional you will trump the artificial 3d image of the screen. 

Leave the message of the grace of God to the blood of the lamb and the word of our testimony. It is there that the victory is won and the enemy is overcome.

"Now is the winter of our discontent...

" Shakespeare could not have written a better phrase that applies more easily to the lives and passions of those who work and live in this fine city. You see avid reader, the city of Edmonton is in a funk.  It's football team has come off the worst season in decades and it's hockey team as of this morning is rated dead last in the league.  To make matters worse they were soundly trounced by Calgary on Saturday night 8-1.  Which when I read this four years from now will seem like the meaningless dribble that it is... But as Will said hundreds of years ago... "Now is the winter of our discontent..."

Which bring us to the question I would like to pose. What is it that brings you contentment?  What is it that slows your angst and calms your heart to rest and breath?  Is it some form of meditation? A good book along with a coffee and chocolate? Or rather is it prayer and waiting on God. Because the answer is not as easy or as clear cut as you would imagine.

The bible says, Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. But is that a reality for you? Are you able to trust the Lord?  Are you able like the old hymn says, "...take your burdens to The Lord and leave it there?"

If this is in fact what we are instructed to do, then why is there so much anxiety in the church week after week. The sound is too loud. The wrong missions team was highlighted on the platform, the youth are dress inappropriately, the adults are not willing to change... And on and on it goes.

Anxiety is not something that the body of Christ has the victory over but rather stews and sweats continually destroying the joy and friendships in its wake. Are we the receivers  of Gods amazing grace suppose to live lives that reflect the thought, "I have no worries. My dad has everything well in hand." Or are we no better than those who have no hope eternal?

 Sure we remember the old song, "He's got the whole world in His hands but do we believe it for ourselves? Some how I doubt it.  

Here is where you come in... Tell me what you do to bring peace in the midst of the storm. What is your go to activity? Where is your go to place? Who is your go to person that brings that sense of rest to your soul.

I really want to know. 

What is your end game?

Erma Bombeck once said, "When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me'."

Often in life I have heard this idea same thing. "Dave...you should slow down. Take it easy...relax."But I have decided a long time ago that I would, like Erma, live a life that would burn out rather than rust out.

So, how about you? Are you living a life that will stand after you cannot. Are you living a life that is earthly good but with eyes clearly on heaven? Does your faith live outside of the church on Sunday...or does it hide when the bright lights of Monday appear?

"Four score and ten will soon be past...only what's done for Christ will last."... is a  phrase that comes down through the years with guilt and insecurity attached to it. And yet it's not guilt that this phrase should speak to us... it is the challenge of the time that should challenge us.

You have so much value to share with others. So much thoughtful interaction that will change lives and change your life if you let it. God has placed us in a place where we can influence others to reach towards Christ, whether they have lived for Christ for years or whether they have never confessed a faith. Regardless, God has given you the treasures and hidden them in your heart and spirit, safely stored there until the moment when people will ask you for it. Then the truths well hidden inside you will spring to your mind. 

So burn... burn brightly... from both ends and place a blow torch to the centre. Lives will be changed... people transformed...hell plundered...heaven filled.

"Live a life that at your funeral they won't have ponder long to write down your eulogy." Dave Wood

When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me'.

Erma Bombeck

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/e/erma_bombeck.html#2QlcIUg0yARGuao7.99

When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me'.

Erma Bombeck

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/e/erma_bombeck.html#2QlcIUg0yARGuao7.99

A Gift to my new friends and Old

Just when I was safely back in Alberta I received a notice from the Just Breath people at Travel Alberta. It was there new video.

So to all my new Ultimate friends...here is a great view of the home that I love.
I hope you enjoy this as much I. Remember, to call me when your coming our way and I'll put the coffee on.

Dave

Calvin Kuhn

 

Today I say good bye to a good friend.Today is a a day of extreme sadness and profound joy.

Sadness that this world this morning is a little less bright, a little less full of the blessing that was Cal.
Sadness that the friend I have known my entire life has been taken from us for a time.
Sadness that the voice that I was so honoured to harmonize with will be silenced on this earth and our song will be quieted until we will join him to worship at the throne.
Sadness due to the reality of the lives so hurt here...left behind... are once again, left to pick up the pieces and put together all that was left unsaid and undone. Today I am profoundly sad.

But today is a day of great rejoicing, too. We stand firmly in the faith and understanding that this is what it is all about. Sin has been defeated. Death is overwhelmed and Cal is alive! More alive today then he has ever been before!

His life is hidden with Christ, his saviour and his God.
Now the truth of the Word of God comes and crashes into the lies of the world of man.
Now the hope of the risen Christ come crashing into the hopelessness of the empty self.
Now the future of eternity comes and settles onto to spirit of the man of God, Cal Kuhn.

As he walked through the final months of his life, his spirit rose time and time again to the one who was holding his hand through this passage.  Having walked with people facing eternity it was so uplifting to see and hear the faith and love that Cal had for his Lord and the grace and strength that his Lord had for him.

On this day...a day when I say goodbye to my good friend, allow me the opportunity to share his thoughts with you. The final moment we had together as we shared some time talking at his bedside.

Cal Said...

"Tell them all Dave. Tell them that there is salvation in no one other than Jesus Christ. Tell them that his love is deeper than anything that they ever could have done. Tell them that His mercy is poured out on our penalty and it has been removed. Tell them Dave, don't let anyone slip by not knowing that Jesus does indeed save. (sigh) ...there is nothing more important than the story of Christ , the reality of the cross, truth of the empty tomb. Tell them Dave that should I die. I will be alive with Christ forever. Tell them Dave..."

Yes Cal... I will.

Good bye my friend.

But until then my heart will go on singing,
Until then with joy I'll carry on,
Until the day my eyes behold the city,
Until the day God calls me home.

Wildcats football!!

PRESS RELEASE:

"The Edmonton Wildcat Football Club is pleased to announce that Rev. David Wood has joined the Wildcat Family as our Team Chaplain."

Yup that's right! We have joined the team and we are looking forward to making a postive impact in the lives of the squad as they travel through the 2013 season. Football has always been in my blood and as many who know me already are well aware I have a fierce competative side which I hope will help the Widcats this season.

The joke of the last practice was that without a team Chaplain the Wildcats don't have a prayer...well no longer. So as this adventure continues stay tuned as regularly I will keep everyone updated with the adventure of Junior Football in Edmonton.

The 2012 Team

Go Wildcats!

The International Ice Cream Day is Coming!!!

July 17th is coming. Now I know that may not actually be the international ice cream day...and neither do I actually know if there even is an international ice cream day but I do know that the entire Wood family gathers on this day and together has an icecream in memory of my Dad.


David Vincent Britten Wood VII


Yup no matter where we are on the planet... sometimes we were in italy, other times Peru... some were in Costa Rica while others were in Phoenix... where ever we find ourselves we gather and celebrate together a life well lived.


So now all those who are reading this blog, choose this July 17 to stop and have an icecream and in doing so choose to live your life well. Choose to climb the next mountain you can, fish the next stream, kiss the next loved one you see and thank the God who has given it all to you.


And by enjoying that icecream may your life be creamy and smoothy, may your troubles only be ripples, your love life be tiger tiger, and if in your life you come across moose tracks, follow them.  And when you find yourself on a rocky road, stop for a moment and make mud pie.

Have a great ICE CREAM day

Father's Day

The Sounds of Wet Canvas

The days were always exciting as we prepared for a trip. My father would go into the storage area and be greeted by a group of old friends; the camping equipment that was so near and dear to his heart. The Old one, the Packer Nelson pack board complete with its canvas bag holding fast to it's wooden frame. Packer Nelson, of course, was in charge. He was the oldest and had the most to share, the longest miles to remember. Stories that could turn your hair grey he would say. We believed.

Following behind Packer Neldon was the Egyptian Silk Pup Tent. Delicate and fine you could almost hear her sigh as she was once again allowed to flutter and flash her robins egg blue cloth in the wind. Released from a year tied tightly, the joy that she shared as she burst out of her confinment was infecteous and joyfilled. Last, of course, was the Coleman stove, and his sidekick the red gas can. Dented and bruised he was right where he always was just inside the green lid under the grill, blacked by years of use. Together they were the always the quiet ones. Always there together, always ready to serve but above all... always dangerous.  Little people were wise to steer a wide berth around these two, and we did.


Carefully like a gentle friend my father would lay each item out behind the house on the grass . Yearly this right of passage would act itself out again as each piece was brought out from it's long winter hibrenation. Each item, the axe, the hat, the boots restless to once again tell it's own story. Stories that if you listened you could hear them share with each other and they greeted each other after a long winter away. Together once again they spoke,  as one by one they were squeezed into the backbacks.

As the stories were told and as Father prepared for all the lay ahead, I could feel the excitement growing in my heart. One can of white gas? Check. Pots, Pans, Plates and Cutlery? Check. Sleeping bag, socks, clothes, and hat? Check. All the old friends ready and willing to once again go on a great adventure.

Each item carefully noted and carefully readied for the backpacks. Each provision prepared, each friend reaquainted. After all this noise, I knew, I just knew it would be my dad's turn. His turn to translate all the noise into stories I could understand. Stories to dream about, to capture my young imagination and release it onto a waiting world. Stories from the sounds of wet canvas. 

“A boy has a lot to learn in his journey to become a man, and he becomes a man only through the active intervention of his father and the fellowship of men. It cannot happen any other way…
This we must understand: masculinity is bestowed.”

Today it is the smells that I remember the best. From the musty pine smell to the smell of the muskoil coating the boots. Each smell today is just outside my memory, waiting patiently for that moment when a single whiff memories will rush back bringing back a flood of memories and with them... my Dad. Once again he will be standing beside me... once again, surveying all the supplies.

Today on this fathers day, my father's voice is silent, his words are no longer readily available to hear. Today I listen for the sound of another young man growing into his boots. In among the volume and noise, the hustle and hurray of a graduation from his highschool, there hangs an old Packer Nelson Pack Board, now safely resting in my garage. Waiting once again for a new set of young ears to lean in real close and listen carefully for the sounds of wet canvas.