Showing posts with label writings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writings. Show all posts

Thursday, July 05, 2012

the company we keep

Hello!  It’s been some time since posting.  The last month has been full: two weddings with a trip both west and east, moving to full-time pastoring at the Church, saying good-bye to my work and employers at PRT, celebrating our 3rd anniversary, camping with Sarah and her brother, Josh, and enjoying this beautiful summer.

This week I wanted to provide some sermon resources for what I shared on July 1st.  I’m not sure if these will be regular addition or not, but if they can be beneficial to anyone who couldn’t make it out to church or is simply interested in diving more deeply into the text and ideas of last Sunday.

Click here to access the sermon notes, summary and reflection questions for our message from July 1st.

The Peace of Christ,
Nikolas

 

Summer Laundry

Monday, April 30, 2012

becoming pastoral

This week I wrote an article for Eston College’s “Life Express!” news and blog website.  I’m glad I did.  I’ve found that through writing I’m able to better process and reflect on what’s going on in my life. 



Click the picture below to read: “Becoming Pastoral”

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Last week I also had the opportunity to sit down with a few people and hear their stories.  It’s an honour to be invited to walk alongside you, and I don’t take the role lightly!  It’s also been very encouraging to see how many of you are growing and able to articulate how you see God at work in your faith and your life.  As a pastor, that’s a great comfort… it shows me that you’re learning to be attentive to the ways God moves—recognizing the nuance and beauty with which He weaves our life stories together.  It’s my prayer for all of us that we continue to learn how to pay attention.  Often this means slowing down.  In this day and age we’ve become experts at filling our time, at staying busy, at always being connected.  Sometimes we can even adopt a strange sort of guilt when it comes to taking time for ourselves, for rest. That’s not quite right!  It’s also the reason I don’t carry a cell phone.


But part of maturing in our faith means cutting through that busyness (even busyness for God or for ministry) and finding rest and learning to listen to God’s voice in stillness.  My hope is, at some point, to teach on spiritual disciplines: one of which is solitude. 


So let’s be faithful to the good work, that God calls us to…but let’s not become so consumed that we are incapable of also taking the time for stillness and rest.


"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." 
 - Matthew 11:28-30 The Message (MSG)

Monday, March 05, 2012

Essay: “On Myth & Life”, Paper 1 for Tolkien & Lewis Class

As promised, I’ve been able to upload one of my recent essays to the blog—a little later than I’d hoped, but better than never!

Click here to read “On Myth & Life”. 

The following is my first essay for “Lewis & Tolkien: The Making of Myth”, my spring class I’m currently taking with the Mythgard Institute.  Our assignment was to note what we believed to be the most important or significant point of comparison or contrast between C.S. Lewis’ and J.R.R. Tolkien’s literary theories: that is, how they understood the nature of fantasy literature.
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This is a bit of a workout for a three page paper.  The idea was not so much to come to a definitive conclusion, but to wrestle with the issues, paying close, careful attention to the text and walking alongside the reader to discover together that which you desired to teach through the essay.  The emphasis here is on an inductive reading of the texts.

I chose to focus on the ways myths or fairy-stories orient us to perceive truth, reality, or life in new ways.  In a sense, it’s my bachelor thesis condensed to three pages!  The introduction starts off a bit slow, and I purposefully rerouted some of the best statements from each of the paragraphs to serve better in the conclusion.

So happy reading!  And as always you are more than welcome to leave any questions or comments you might have.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Christmastime in the city

Christmas has come and gone once again, though as we plan a trip to Winnipeg this weekend to see Sarah’s family it feels as though we’re heading into an extended edition of the holidays.  Sarah has had to return to work for a couple of days this week, but with Tyler, Nicole and Olivia still down it still feels like we’re on Christmas vacation.

This year was a bit of a return to tradition for the Cain side of the family.  Christmas Eve at Auntie Laurel and Uncle Don’s and Christmas Day at Mom and Dad’s.  Good times and good food!  Nicole, Tyler and Olivia arrived soon after and we had a larger family gathering complete with Uncle Don songs, more gift-giving, more food and even dancing!  Yep, that’s right.

Two and a half years since its completion, I was finally able to print off a finished copy of my undergrad thesis for Mom and Dad.  I thought it’d make a good surprise gift at the end of the morning.  Though the manuscript was officially ‘done’, I’d gone through it again last October and then again in January when I experienced I really frustrating set-back.  I’d accidently created two different copies without realizing it, and had on some days been editing one version and on another day editing the second.  Sometimes in March, I think it was, I bit the bullet and read through both copies again to try and decide which sections of which version was the final.  Thankfully, I had noticed my mistake early enough and I ended up merging the two without much difficulty.  Still, you can imagine the headache.

Afterwards I was able to finally pull in my title page and table of contents and save the whole thing as a .pdf.  It’s such a good feeling to get it totally done and have a copy printed off.  I wanted mom and Dad to have the first one (I have an older one that I printed when still at the college), as they played such a huge part in me even being able to go to school.

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If you’ve been following my blog you’ve probably heard me mention my favourite authors from time to time.  When it comes to the Christian life, Eugene Peterson is my favourite.  He’s down-to-earth and grandfatherly, and his writing is rich, meaningful, and pastoral and imaginative.  For Eugene, it’s all about how everything is liveable, nothing in our Christian faith is meant to be abstract, general, propositional or removed from day to day life.  It’s all personal.  All relational.  All participatory.  Last Christmas I received Practice Resurrection, which I’ve blogged about before. This year I was blessed with three more books of his five-piece series on spiritual theology. Each book is a “conversation” on a different topic related to living.  So now I’m reading Eat this Book, a conversation about spiritual reading.  I think I’ll be able to use it with my Sunday school lessons in January.

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It was great to see Olivia again, and to visit with Tyler and Nicole—who we introduced to the thrilling epic farming board game, Agricola.  As we purchased sheep, built clay huts and harvested our grain, Olivia would lean over to me, her Dad’s iPhone in hand with her favourite kids game, and show me how to colour Christmas trees and listen to Tinkerbell stories.  She was pretty interested in all the little wooden pieces for the game, so we let her set up a farm of her own—though all she really wanted to do was collect more wood and assign everyone coloured bowls: “Blue for Dad and orange for Nikolas and green for Sarah and yellow for Mom!” 

We’ve made New Year’s Eve plans with the three of them once we’re all back in Winnipeg—and hopefully we’ll be able to see Mike and Steph, too!

Until next time, happy reading, and hoping you’ve all had a very Merry Christmas!

Friday, December 23, 2011

houston, we’ve found a topic!

Feeling a little bit better this morning--I've had a sore throat for the last couple of days (typical for Christmastime, I suppose!)  Earl Grey seems to be helping!  Of course, being able to rest at home now that I've finished work for the year doesn't hurt either!

For the past couple of weeks I’ve been trying to decide on a topic to teach for our church’s adult Sunday school.  Keith Eichel asked if I’d be interested in taking some of the sessions, so I was given the month of January, and plenty of room in terms of topics and style.  For a long time I was pretty sure I was going to do something on Christian spiritual disciplines.  I started working on it back in October or November and had had a few pages written up.  But plans change.  Richard Foster’s Celebration of Discipline describes twelve practices through which we connect with God and one another in the Christian life: meditation, prayer, fasting and study are the Inward Disciplines.  Simplicity, solitude, submission and service make up the outward disciplines.  Confession, worship, guidance and celebration are corporate disciplines—practices which we participate in together as the body of Christ.  With only four sessions to speak, I couldn’t possibly do them all justice.  I thought of pairing some together, or simply picking four, but it simply wasn’t working.  It's an excellent book, and would make a really good small group study.  Maybe some other time.

Thankfully, there was something else in store.


I was working on study as a discipline, and then reading in the broader sense.  How do we nurture our minds?  Do we know how to do this?  How do we read well?  How important is that to cultivating a wholistic and healthy faith?  That sent me into Fee & Stuart’s book, How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth, a text from my freshmen class, Biblical Foundations I.  Within a few pages of reading I knew I needed to focus here: on how to read the Bible well.

So I’ve been working a lot on that, and really enjoying it.  I wrote the first session and I’m just in the middle of editing the second.  The third and fourth are still to be determined.  But it’s a good start, and I’m thankful to have settled on something.  For me that’s usually the hardest part.

Merry Christmas, dear reader!

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

“Quick! What’s another word for motif?”

It’s my day off, and I’m feeling pretty good about that.  Lots done this morning.  First, I was able to finish my work for my Regent class (hurray!) and get it sent off in the mail.  I know I’ve done the best I can, and I’m pretty happy with how the paper turned out.  I finally settled on writing about pilgramge motifs in two of C.S. Lewis’ books, Perelandra and The Horse and His Boy—specifically the themes of calling, struggle, and epiphany.  It made for a neat compare and contrast, and it was nice to be able to pick the topic as well. 

Perelandra and The Horse and His Boy

I was able to schedule doctor appointments for both of us—not always an easy feat in this town.  Then there was plethora of errands to run: cheques to the bank, papers to mail, and car to get gas (finally got things working at the third gas station I tried—go Safeway!), and then to GM to drop the car off for its semi-annual inspection—which sounds like some sort of army test where cars have to run a ropes course or something.  During the ride back home The Cars came on the radio—seemed somewhat fitting.

So the start of this new week is a bit of a turning point: off with my Lewis paper and onto the next class I might take, and off with summer and onto fall.  Or maybe even winter—it was only 3 degrees above today!  Last night we were at Mom and Dad’s and I remember it felt so much like Christmas, or some holiday, though I’m not sure why—just the feeling in the air.  I like winter, but sometimes it feels like a bully crowding out the other seasons on the playground. 

Ah, Sarah’s home!  Gotta go!

Wednesday, February 03, 2010

parable

It was still in the cool of September when great grey goose began to contemplate his departure. It had been a long, good summer with his forest cohorts. They had not been frivolous with their time, but had set about on expeditions through the old oaken glens, forging new trails, studying the little mysteries of the deep wood and working together to keep the rule and custom of the land aright. Yet as goose peered through that curtain of fading summer, past its memory and beyond the few desperate golden leaves still clinging to fingered branches to the clear cloud-swept skies, he knew that it was time again for him to return to his southern realm.

He called a council and invited all of his people to attend. As they came through the chokecherry bushes toward the council oak he recognized many of his old friends: stalwart badger and somber raccoon, wise hare and brash squirrel, shy porcupine and inquisitive shrew. Stubborn magpie and giddy jackdaw from Black Grove arrived late in the afternoon. A whole host of field mice along with gentle deer and noble moose traveled from the eastern fields. Many others came also.

When they were gathered together under the council oak, grey goose found a spot atop a large twisted root and called out to them: “Friends!” he cried, “we have all long known that this day would arrive. The seasons are changing and it is time that I left you to yourselves. I will be returning to my home in the south and to my family.”

This the forest folk bemoaned. For grey goose had been a true leader: honest and right. “Where will we find someone to replace him?” They asked among themselves. Some said that they should choose one from their own ranks to lead them, while others argued that they should find some other leader from far away to come and care for them as grey goose first had. Others could not accept grey goose’s decision and determined to convince him to stay in the forest or they too would leave with him. It wasn’t long before all the creatures were in discord.

“Sire,” whispered hawk, goose’s closest companion. “It is time we left. You have taught these folk well and they can see to themselves. Besides, the Great Light will ever guide them. Come, let us be off.” Goose agreed. And thus he and hawk and badger and a few others crept away from the scene and were soon away heading south, following the last hints of warm weather.

○ ○ ○

Winter came to the forest. The air turned damp and chill and the creatures forgot their anger with one another. They forgot too, their grief over the passing of grey goose and golden hawk. At length they came together under the council oak and said to one another: “Come, let us rise up for us a new leader. One of our own. One who has lived in these woods long and understands our ways.”
“Yes!” shouted others, “Who among us has this calling?” And after some quick talk it was decided that young fox was a suitable candidate. He was quick and strong and much-loved by all. He eagerly agreed to their kingmaking. Then there was much rejoicing in the forest again. And all hailed young fox and they crowned him king under the council oak and before the Great Light.

Young fox did not doddle. And he soon arranged as his first decree to take a circuit through the forest with his advisors to see first-hand the forest which had been given him and of which grey goose had been so fond of studying and exploring. The plans were fulfilled with much joy and a large company of advisors and a great deal of other folk began their tour of the forest kingdom with young fox at their head.

They travelled deep into the heart of the forest. Travelling the old paths and hedge ways of yesteryear. “Very good!” thought some of the elder creatures, “it is has been far too long since we explored the handiwork of our forefathers. For this is the land of old grey goose, this is.” But even as they spoke these words they examined the company and realized that there were few who remained who remembered grey goose and golden hawk and their deeds.

Presently they came to a yawning cave carved into a steep cliff side overlooking a valley of aspen. Sitting at the entrance of the cave sat a large grey stone which had been positioned upright like a single tooth in the cave’s earthy maw.

“What is this cave and the meaning of this stone?” asked fox.

“My lord,” replied his people. “This was once a home for many young creatures travelling along the forest highway. And the stone was its emblem and a symbol for the travelers to recall their time of rest in the cave. It has become tradition among the forest folk, sire.”

But fox was not impressed, “I know not of this tradition. And my people do not sleep in caves and revere stones.” He said. “Therefore I decree that a gate be built across this cave so that none may enter it. Also, take up this stone and cast it into the ravine.”

“You are our good king, lord.” Replied the people. They lifted the stone and heaved it into the chasm. It spun in the air for a moment before careening into the rocky base below. It hit the bottom with a terrible crack: the great stone had burst asunder and its shards lay strewn about the cavern. Then a gate of strong timber was built across the cave so that none may find shelter there.

They left that place. And presently they came upon a swift flowing river. Beeches and cottonwoods crowned the beautiful nape. Their path brought them to the water’s edge, but one could see that it continued on further up the riverbank.

“What is the meaning of this path and this river?” demanded fox.

“My lord,” replied his people. “This was once a place of fording for all of our young. When of age, the elders would send their heirs across the raging water to yonder shore. Then they would be recognized for their great value and welcomed into the forest family anew. It has become tradition among the forest folk, sire.”

But fox was disgusted and said so, “I know not of this tradition. Are not our children already a part of our family? What need have they of this testing? Surely we could spare such senseless hassle. From henceforth all children should be brought before me for blessing and I will tell them how to live. Therefore I decree that such water fording is childishness. Come, there is plenty of land on this side of the river to still explore.”

“You are our good king.” Replied the people. And many of those folk shunned the river and set in their hearts to remain upon this side evermore, and to send their children to the instruction of fox.

They left that place. And presently they came upon a strange sight. In the midst of an open meadow stood a gently sloping mound. Coming to it they discovered rich green grass all in beautiful long strands and beside it, a spring of pure bubbling water trickling down into the meadow.

“What is the meaning of this grass and spring?” yelled an angry fox.

“My lord,” replied his people. “This is a most sacred meeting place. For here we sup on the blesséd grass and drink from the blesséd stream. Here we are revived in soul and spirit. It has become tradition among all peoples, sire.”

But fox only cackled and spat at the mound. “I am beginning to hate these ‘traditions’,” he said flatly. “For how is this grass, still so plain and ordinary, and this water, bland and every day, any different from the thatches and brooks of our own lands? Of what good is such ceremony? Eating is for fools. If I could avoid it altogether, I would! From this moment forward I put a ban on such wasteful living. There will be no more feasting while I rule you.”

“You are king.” Replied the people.

When the company arrived home again, fox called the forest folk together. He stood upon the gnarled root under the council oak and this is what he said:

“My people! I have seen the Great Light, and I believe I have been given a vision for the future of our forest. I am your king, and you must obey me. Now have been about this land and observed your customs. Let me tell you: you say you have many traditions, but you forget that there were other traditions before even these. The current traditions are childish, pagan and removed from our true calling. Thus, we will return to the teachings of our youth: when we were but young chick, fawn, kit or cub. And no longer do we go to the deep forest. We must stay here, talking only to one another about what we already know. Why learn? Why search after such vanities when the Great Light has already given us all we need to live. Indeed, such frivolous thoughts and practices displease him! If you disobey me in this, you disobey the Light itself. For I know his mind clearly.”

And the forest people cheered, “Yes! We will forsake the deep woods forever!”

To one another they said, “See great fox: so wise and cunning. See how he loves his people so tenderly and listens with such care and concern. See how his coat gleams with the bright sunlight. Surely he is a messenger sent by the Great Light himself. We will return, fox! Show us how!”

And so they did; returning to the ways of the previous generations. Killing the memory of grey goose in their hearts.

Fox continues his reign.
The great mother weeps.
And summer never came again.
He who has ears to hear, let him hear.
The Scarlet Monk

Thursday, October 23, 2008

can you hear the gardener?

Part of our class on Spiritual Theology includes periodic mini-retreats. Lauren Miller will have us examine a particular spiritual discipline or practice and then have us participate in it together. This week's class we were discussing how metaphors are a way in which meaning is communicated oftentimes in a better way than if the thing was blatantly said. We were given twenty minutes to each write metaphors of our own and then share them with the class. We were told to write with the following question in mind, "What would you want to say to your classmates about themselves and the time that you've shared together?"

A metaphor written as part of a class discussion and reflection in Spiritual Theology with Lauren Miller, Autumn 2008:


My dear ones,

I can hear the muffled footsteps of the Gardener, treading the worn path to our small grove. Listen. Can you hear him? Some of us can. This is not one of his regular visits to our shelter. He has come to rework the garden again. Before he comes…let me remind you... Let us remember when we each came and how we’ve grown together.

I was but a young sapling, you see.

Brought from strange lands in the east, planted carefully in a shaded spot by the stream. Many of you were there. And some of you had yet to come and be planted. We were each being brought…some in wheelbarrows, some as seeds…but each planted with care and purpose in the space which would best suit us to grow as the Gardner desired.


The stream was cool and deep, and many thoughts and ideas it brought to our minds, calling us to live deeper and grow stronger…to learn from the past. The elms and oaks around us taught us how to drink. How to taste. How to dig our roots deeper into the soil to find the nutrients. It was a hard task to learn…but we managed soon enough and the father and mother trees were very patient. They taught us to open our leaves and feed on the warmth of the Son. By light and water we were made…we feasted together on the goodness of the Gardner’s provision.

In time we grew stronger…some of us have been in the garden for a couple years now. Growing and drinking and eating. The gardner has been ever-loving in his care. He comes to tend us…to ensure our health…to gather the fruit of our labour. Sometimes we hear him coming to prune, and the oak tree reminds us that this is part of growing up. As hard as we try to hide them, the Gardner always finds the dead branches. He removes them in love and takes them away from us.

It has been good, hasn’t it? The wisdom of the older trees, the companionship of our peers, the joy and seeing younger saplings be planted beside us? It is so good. And yet…it does not last forever. It was never meant to. You see, the Gardner knows how to grow us best…and though some of us have grown together for many years now…the time will come when he will come and take us away.

He is, after all, the Gardner.

Some of us will be taken away together. For myself, I seem to have gotten all tangled up with a young willow wand and it seems the two of us will have to be transplanted together. Some of you have branches spread across to other trees in other gardens…I think he will transplant you to the same place as well…when the time comes.

Ah… he has arrived. It is springtime. Well my friends, it is time to go. Thank you for the memories…for helping me learn to drink and eat…for growing along with me for these past four years. I love you all. Farewell…my friends… until we meet again in the greater garden where all trees reside. The Great Garden, which extends beyond all rivers and all meadows, forever...at the end of all things.

The Scarlet Monk