http://canyoncreek.ca/sermons/20140209%20-%20From%20the%20Outside%20and%20the%20Inside.mp3

"JCHEES!"

Anabel,

This morning you brought this to me and said “JCHEES”. I just taught you how to say “Jesus”.

What a complicated idea that I will teach you about Jesus. The son of God. One whom I have believed in, and in whom I haven't.

Will you learn that this Jesus died for your sins and the sins of the world? Will you someday think this Jesus isn't near to you? Or perhaps that he hates you because you did something wrong?

Will you grow up and rethink what you were taught about “Jchees”? Or perhaps abandon it altogether?

Or perhaps worse, will you somehow think that Jchees is about being better than people, and give you an idea that He hates certain people, and that this narrow path you will learn about means that you've got it made, and others will burn eternally because they weren't as lucky as you.

One thing I feel when you bring over Jchees to me is this… I love Him. I'm excited and hopeful that one day you will feel His love. That in him rests the hope for all mankind, and the hope of our forgiveness.

Perhaps one day Jchees will inspire you to love people that sit in the shadows of the church. Maybe you will forsake progress and money for love because of Jchees. Maybe you will do daring and wonderful things because you discover Jchees did that for you.

I sure do hope so.

I sure do hope that I can teach you to find love and life through Jchees, and not a shallow, moral code.

Anabel, I hope someday you learn to dance in this love that Jchees has for you. That it is freedom, and not a burden.

You know what else? Don't waste a minute of your life feeling shame or guilt. I once thought that was what Jchees was about. But, I don't think that anymore. That somehow you need to be something you're not for Jchees. That is a silly idea.

We'll walk this together I suppose. We'll learn about Jchees together. We'll eventually start conversations and prayers.

But for now you just hold this little baby in your hands. You hold him and yell “Jchees!” and make sure he has his mommy. His love is here with you, Anabel, even though you are completely ignorant of it.

And above all I hope you keep holding this in your hands. I hope you never let it go. I hope that you never get caught up in cynicism and disappointment. I hope you never leave this love because you didn't feel you could be yourself, or live up to the standards. Don't ever lose your childlike love and wonder of this baby.

I truly believe in Him is the light of life. That He came to bring love to this world. This is such a complicated, messy, awful religion sometimes. So, I want you to ask questions all you want. But, try not to let Him go. Hold this baby close to your heart.

It's so easy to do the wrong thing

I'm sitting in a coffee shop before work and I just read this:

If you've gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if his love has made any difference in your life, if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care - then do me a favor: Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don't push your way to the front; don't sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don't be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand. (Philippians 2:1-4 MSG)

Last night I completely picked apart a speaker at a youth event. In my head I told myself that I wasn't sure I really could be a part of Christianity. I let myself think that becoming a prideful, cynical jerk was the right thing to do.

One thing I've seen and learned myself is this: prideful people are miserable people. There is a real peace and joy that comes when people choose to serve.

That's what I want to change today.

I think that scripture is important.

It's a lesson I'm learning and hope someday you live it out as well.

I'm broken, but I love you

Anabel, Last night I rocked you to sleep. I held your little face in my hands and told you "daddy is broken, but he loves you". Someday I might let you down. Someday I wonder if I'll say the wrong things, or become distracted. I want you to know that I'm broken. I am not going to live up to everything you need. But, I love you. I don't think I can love anything more than I love you. Even though I might be broken, I love you.

Anabel, where are you going?

Anabel,

I never want to pressure you to live out the dreams I missed out on in my life. I don't want to burden you with unreal expectations. But one thing I do want to warn you about is cynicism. I've let that become something that steals my happiness from time to time.

Today I watched you crawling on the floor. You were carefree. Cynicism isn't a part of your outlook yet, and I love that. I don't really ever want you to lose that.

It's true you know. There's a lot of things to be cynical about. There's a lot of terrible things in this world. But cynicism doesn't do anything to change all those bad things. The only thing that will change bad things is if we live in the opposite way.

The world needs people that bring light to this world. There are already plenty that sit around cursing the darkness. You don't ever have to get caught up in that. I've done that far too much.

Faith is so important to us, you know? But if faith leads you to not love and not hope and stand around judging those that aren't like you... Well, that's not what we're aiming for. Our faith leads us to love the people around us, and to give them the love that we believe we were all created in. Don't get caught up in who's a democrat or republican, gay or straight, American/Canadian or Indian/Mexican/Filipino and so on. Love blindly. When people tell you that following Jesus means you have to turn your backs on people not like you, brush that off. That's not what is real to us.

Try to spend your time living what you believe. There's no need to spend time writing cynical blogs on the Internet. Plenty of other people will do that. Rather, before you give an opinion ask yourself if you have seen that opinion take action in your life first. Don't blog about what other people should be doing. Inspire people to do things when they see your life.

It's inevitable you'll run into cynics along the way. I know it can be a huge bummer. But, don't let them stop you. If they have a point, and there's something you can change, don't be afraid to apologize and change. But if they're out to lunch, don't let it get to you.

Oh yeah! Almost forgot. Don't be fooled. Being cynical about cynics isn't the answer either. That just makes you a cynic!

Today I saw in you a girl that has a lot of light. I'm praying that the light in you brings out the light in others. When someone calls your name, never be afraid to turn around and smile at them. Never let cynicism darken that light in you.

From your Daddy, who loves you very much.

Your Mommy

Dear Baby Girl,

Today is your Mommy's birthday and you are almost here!

I wanted to tell you all about your Mom, and what she was like before you came.

The very first time I ever saw your mom was in January of 2006. She was on a computer and I introduced myself to her. I thought she was so beautiful. She had the cutest blonde hair, and the sweetest smile. I even get butterflies right now thinking about the first time I saw your mother.

Your mother is beautiful. I think you are going to be too! I think you'll look just like her, and that makes me so happy.

I really noticed your mom this one morning when I had to wake up early. It was 5am and I had to walk through the dining room and there was your mom, sitting over a bowl of cereal and a Bible in her pajamas. She had waken up early to pray. That really got my attention, because she was absolutely stunning, but she wasn't stuck up about it. She had the sweetest spirit in her. She was so kind, and gentle and funny. She was everything I was waiting for, and even more than that.

She did think I was pretty funny. I would secretly find her in a crowd and try to tell funny stories. Or we would stay up late and watch funny videos on the internet. Your mother was getting more and more beautiful to me.

I remember it really hit me when me and your mom went to Japan together. One night I had bought a movie I wanted to watch, but your mom was kind of over it. When she left the room it was like my heart sank. I secretly just wanted to watch the movie with her, and it was driving me crazy that I couldn't say it. I started to realize that I really liked your mom. I had butterflies all the time around her.

We really love each other. We laugh a lot. We can stay up talking until late, and laughing. Your mother has a very weird sense of humor, and it makes me laugh! She is still so caring towards me. She is still so gentle. And she is still so beautiful.

I want to tell you again, your mommy and daddy love each other so much. I love your mommy! She is the greatest thing that has every happened to me. She is the most beautiful girl to me. And over the past 9 months I have watched her become the mother I've always dreamed of for my children.

I hope you are just like her. I hope you have her smile. I hope you have her laugh and her sense of humor. I hope you have her sweetness. I hope you have her beauty. I never want you to feel embarrassed if someone says you look just like mommy. Because that means you're beautiful like your mommy.

I love you Courtney. SO MUCH! Happy Birthday my sweet girl!

Becoming an 8 year old criminal

Hey baby girl,

I was writing this silly story, in preparation for speaking at a camp this weekend. I wanted to save it for you. I want you to read what I was like when I was little, and what I learned.

When I was a kid my grandparents bought a small vacation home at a place called Bass Lake.

It was, and still is one of my favorite places on the planet.

We would go water skiing, and jump off of rocks, and in the winter go sledding down the driveway. It was an image of childhood perfection.

Except for one memory.

Bass lake had a small shopping area. A grocery store, a tourist shop, a clothing store, and a craft store.

I was 8 years old at the time. We went as a family to the craft store. I walked around as my mom was picking out little knick knacks so that my Dad could paint them.

I found something that caught my eye.

This was in 1993 by the way. I found tubes of T-shirt paint. Paint you could squeeze onto a T-shirt and it wouldn’t wash off. I was enthralled. Not only that, it was neon yellow and neon green. Neon was really cool in 1993.

I brought the paint over to my mom so that she could buy it for me and I would go home and ruin all my t-shirts.

My mom said no.

She said that we have t-shirt paint at home. I know the ones she was talking about. They were in a drawer in the “craft room”. They were pastel yellows and purples and pinks. Pastels! Can you image! A young boy in 1993 with pastel home made t-shirts. I don’t think so.

I needed neon.

But my mom said no.

Something came over me. A interesting idea. To just put two tubes of paint in my pocket. I devised a plan. I would simply just hide them in my pockets, then in my backpack. Then I would hide them in the craft room with all the other pastel t-shirt paint. No one would ever know. Then I could get to my custom t-shirt making! It was a perfect plan.

I walked casually over to the paint. Put them in my pockets then walked right out of the store and sat in the back of our ’89 burgundy dodge caravan with fake wood panels. I took a little peak at the neon green tube in my pocket.

I thought my plan was awesome.

But, all of a sudden I felt really weird. As if what I did wasn’t awesome. As if what I did was wrong, That somehow it was a really dumb idea. I thought about what would happen if I got caught. That my mom would notice the neon paint with her pastels and know exactly what I did.

The neon pain started to burn a hole in my pockets. I had to get rid of them.

We were making a stop at Raley’s the supermarket. I was walking with my mom down the isle and I decided to just stash the paint behind some dehydrated scalloped potato boxes.

My mom must have noticed some of my bizarre behavior. I was able to get the yellow one stashed. Then I was pulling the green one out of my pocket when my mom asked what I was holding.

It put the deepest feeling of dread in my gut. I held it up and told my mom immediately what I did.

It’s funny to think now, but I could’ve lied, possibly covered it up and got away with it. But there was something in me that knew I had to come clean. That my conscience needed to be cleared.

I bawled my eyes out. My mom told my Dad and sister and I went back and sat in the caravan in the back seat in tears. We were driving back to the craft store, because I had to tell them what I did.

For some odd reason, my mom told me that they had every right to call the police on me. I then thought I might be thrown into prison. It was safe to say that this was becoming the worst day of my eight years alive. I cried really hard. I had this really sick feeling in my stomach that I couldn’t make go away.

I walked up to the cashier in tears. There was a nice older lady working there that smelled like cigarettes and had a raspy voice.

“Can I help you?” She could see that I was red with tears and didn’t actually want to buy something.

All I could muster to say was “I stole dis” with that sobbing trying to catch my breathe kind of thing.

“well, thanks for telling us sweetheart. That was bad. But we’re glad you came and told us” she said.

“Are you going to call the police?” I asked?

“no sweetie, it’s ok” she said with a laugh. After all, who would’ve called the police on an already distraught eight year old boy?

The car ride home was long and silent.

I used to be a good little boy, but now I was a thief. I was destined to rob banks and hold up trains with bandanas around my mouth. The entire way I saw myself changed.

I couldn’t get the sad feeling out of my gut. It wouldn’t go away.

I went to my bedroom in the house at bass lake. I jumped under my covers and cried. I cried and whimpered because I had messed myself up.

My dad came in and laid down on the bed beside me and held me. He started to cry too. He said “Justy, I don’t want you to be a thief” and we cried together.

I didn’t become a thief. I never bought a gun. Apart from a train ride on the LRT without a ticket, I never really stole again.

Because a thief wasn’t who I was.

I was loved by my Dad. He came and entered my pain with me. (My mom forgave me too of course) When the tears were gone, we got up and had some dinner.

I’m not a thief. I don’t identify myself by what I did wrong. I am loved. That’s who I am. And that is who you are.

You belong to a family, and a God, who loves you no matter what you do. You don’t need to have that sick feeling in your gut for very long. Because love casts those kinds of things away.

Baby girl, you know that if you do something wrong. That doesn't change who you are. You can make mistakes, and you probably will. Sometimes you might have consequences and punishments. Sometimes you might have that sick feeling in your gut. You might even feel like you disappointed me and mom. But, it is never going to change the fact that we love you so much. Nothing will ever change that. You can spill milk all over the kitchen table, and spill cheerios on the carpet. It doesn't matter! Jesus loves you so much. He always will. And we always will too. Ok?

You're never going to be seen by what you do wrong. That doesn't define who you are. You were so beautiful that Jesus died for all the mistakes you'll make. That is who you are. You were brought into the world because me and mommy wanted you, because God wanted you. Nothing. will. ever. change. that!