My Case for Youth Ministry

It was a whirlwind month of May, and I left so inspired. And I just had to get around to telling you all about it...

First, I hit the East Coast of Canada to represent Compassion at the first-ever One Conference—a gathering of ~2000 youth and youth leaders from across denominations, coming together to learn, worship, and have a ton of fun.

Then, I made my way to the prairies along with my brother to represent Compassion Canada at YC Alberta—a gathering of ~5500 youth and youth leaders, again, from across denominations, coming together to learn, worship and have a lot of fun (and, as it turns out, to sponsor 157 Compassion kids! WHAT!).

photo credits

Finally, I came home and made my way north to the Muskokas to gather with my own youth group... ~500 of us gathering for a weekend at camp to build our relationships with each other and with Jesus.

Then, on top of all that, I got to finally come home and in the first week of June watch 10 people from my youth group get baptized, 2 of which were girls in my Jr. High group that I got to help baptize. It was an absolute joy.

video credits to my super talented brother!

There's several things I'm convinced of at the end of this mini-youth ministry marathon, but here's my biggest one. If you are not involved with a youth ministry at the moment, I highly recommend it.

Seriously. There's just something that's good for your soul when you stand with dozens, hundreds or thousands of teenagers and declare the name of Jesus in song, word and community.

It's a balm to cynicism. It's a reason to hope. 

When teenagers have the courage to say yes to Jesus, I am confident that we are going to be okay. 

When teenagers decide to sponsor dozens and dozens of children through Compassion, I see a generation that sees the messy brokenness of the world and is relentless in its pursuit of shalom anyways.

When teenagers lift their hands and declare the reckless love of God, the powerful name of Jesus, I know that the Spirit is going to move in mighty ways through them.

I've had the privilege of going nearly coast to coast this spring, hanging out with teenagers. And I just want you to know that it's not bad news. It's not the desolate landscape of hopelessness that we sometimes think it is. 

It's a movement of kind, relentless, passionate, tenacious, bright young people who love Jesus and are committed to His peace, His shalom, His Kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven.

It's pretty cool, friends, and it is a joy to be a part of it.

The Story We Live By

It's funny how reading can convict you to write.

I'm taking The Canadian Short Story in summer school right now--a fun elective for the summer.

And it is totally convicting me to write.

We live stories that either give our lives meaning or negate it with meaninglessness. If we change the stories we live by, quite possibly we change our lives. 

--Nigerian storyteller Ben Okri

That quote resonated with me deep.

I hoped to be around this blog more this year. But many times I've felt word-less. Why write? I thought, Is there really any thing left to be said in this world?

Yes. That's what I hear zing through my heart as my professor reads it out: We live stories. Stories change lives. 

The writer deep inside me always knows this, of course. But sometimes I needs a reminder.

And when the world feels like it's imploding on itself, it can be hard to comprehend the power of a simple story.

But what about that story of a God who loved us so much that He refused to leave us in this imploding world all on our own?

So He made a plan and suddenly--God with us, showing us the way to live our stories. To live compassion and humility and servanthood and peace.

Then He spread his arms wide at calvary and took the brunt of the worst this imploding world had to offer... and He defeated it.

What. About. That. Story?

Yeah--that's the story that gives our life meaning.

And until every heart knows the immense, overwhelming beauty of it, we must tell it again and again and again. No matter how many times it takes--because the Love in this story is relentless.

So yes, yes, yes. Artists and singers and filmmakers and thespians and yes - writers, too. We must tell stories, and live stories, and change lives.

Because until every life lives transformed by the Greatest Story of a Man on a cross, defeating death and inviting all to the resurrection...

There are still more stories to be told of lives transformed by the Good News that He is making all things new.



Does this mean I'll blog more? Perhaps. I do know that words are slowly coming back, and that feels good.

Welcome Home

When the day was over, all I could think about was what a shame it is that anyone could ever say no to this... and miss out on all this beauty.

Because all of this - yes, it's about this beautiful family being welcomed home. It's about their tears and relief and safety and joy. It's about giving them the opportunity to safely and freely grow and learn and laugh and love. It's about exemplifying a radical Love to them until all the hate they've ever known melts away.

But at the end of what was quite possibly one of my favourite days ever, I realized that this might be more about us, than them.

Because you know what? Without us, this family would've still been welcomed to Canada. The Canadian government would've still accepted their application. Another sponsoring group would've been in our place. This family would've still had loving sponsors who would've been committed to moving them into an apartment, helping them register for school and ESL, sourcing furniture and household items and raising funds to support them for a year... all of it.

The only ones who would've missed out is us. 

We would've missed this beauty. We would've missed this joy. We would've missed the opportunity to get to know the Jesus we follow in one of the most real ways there is, because when we welcome the stranger, we welcome Him.

We would've missed out on experiencing the Body of Christ come together in one of the most beautiful ways I have ever witnessed, to declare with our lives that Love is greater than fear, apathy, intolerance or hate.

Because yesterday, I saw 35+ people - and not to mention the hundreds more that have generously given money, time, donations, prayers and love to get us to yesterday's move-day - come together as the Body of Christ to move a formerly displaced Syrian family into their new home, filling it with furniture, household items, laughter, life, and love.

From empty apartment...

...to warm, home sweet home. 

And this family... they've been through far too much brokenness and pain. The displaced, broken parts of every human heart - those parts that choose fear and violence and apathy and hate because our human hearts war and rage against Love Himself until we displace ourselves from the Love that created us - that brokenness left this family without a home or a safe place to grow, live, and love. 

In fact, those displaced, broken parts of our hearts have left millions without a safe place to call home. 

My mama read it to us just today, on the way home from visiting our family... "There are 60 million displaced persons in the world," she reads, "12 million in Syria alone."

There are 60million displaced persons in the world. 12million in Syria alone. This must break the heart of heaven - Bill Hybels @willowcreekcc #wewelcomerefugees

A photo posted by We Welcome Refugees (@wewelcomerefugees) on Jan 10, 2016 at 1:24pm PST

It's a staggering, overwhelming number... One that grows each day as war continues unfazed.

"But you know what?" I responded to my mama's stat, "Four of those 60 million people aren't displaced anymore."

No, they certainly are not. They are laying their heads down tonight in their very own home - safe, warm, together.

And as I quietly smiled at that fact, I thought -

Perhaps those displaced, broken parts of our own hearts might just have a chance as well.




Definitely one of my favourite days ever. It's hard to express the fullness that we all felt at the end of the day. Please continue keeping this family in your prayers as the settle in - that in the midst of what is surely going to be a tough next few months that they might find peace and hope in the Love we will try our hardest to continuously share with them. 

Dear Sweet Little Girl*,

This all started with a little boy just a little younger than you and your brother.

This entire day, it happened because of Aylan's tiny, lifeless body washed up on the shore of the Mediterranean.

And quite honestly, sweet girl? I was discouraged for once. This optimist wasn't so hopeful this time around. I didn't let my heart hope for even a second... I thought I knew that Aylan's photo would cause a lot of retweets but not a lot of actual action.

I had accepted that all that would come across the air to Canada from Syria would be more stories of despair.

Yet here you are.

I suppose I forgot that there are good people in the world. I forgot that there are many, many people just waiting for an opportunity to birth Love into this world.

Because yesterday, sweet girl, I saw Love birthed into the world like I've never seen before. I saw the Body of Christ come together and come alive and bear His image to you and your family in one of the most beautiful ways I have ever seen. 

I can only imagine how confused you must feel right now... They told you that you were coming to Canada, and then you got on a plane, travelled 16+ hours and were put up in a strange hotel in a strange city for the night. Then in the morning, you were shuffled out of that room and told to wait in the lobby.

Your poor parents were told nothing of a sponsoring group... Nothing of the God-sent apartment that had been rented for you or the sweet family with beds made in their spare room just waiting to host you for the week while the aforementioned apartment's paperwork goes through. Nothing of the team of people who have sourced furniture and found Arabic-speaking doctors and researched schools... none of it.

I can just imagine how disorienting this must feel. Like maybe this was all a bad idea after all.

And when I saw the tears and relief in your parents' kind, weary, and courageous eyes as our translator told them that we had been preparing to welcome them for months, my heart could've just about burst.

When the whole lot of us huddled into that conference room of that hotel - the whole mismatched group of us, beautifully brought together because of a desire to welcome you - and your papa said that thing about feeling like we are your new Canadian family? Oh, little girl, I think even the toughest of us were tearing up.

Because this is it! This is the Love we get to share in the midst of a broken world. And how could we ever say no to this? How could we dare to miss this?

And then we went to that restaurant serving up meals from your homeland and okay, the whole party of us? We were hard to miss.

So a regular at that restaurant leans to the waitress and asks What on earth is going on over there? and the waitress tells her the bits of our story that she's gathered in all of five minutes of us being there and soon after that regular customer leaves, that waitress is over at our table letting us know that our entire tab had been picked up by that stranger.

But it didn't stop there. That waitress herself picked up the tab for our coffee afterwards, and the owner sent you home with a box full of meals on the house for your first week in Canada... A taste of home to help with the homesickness.

And I'm realizing that we live in an ocean of grace. We live in a world where people are ready and waiting to birth Love into this world, and we can believe in the hatred we see on the news, or we can believe in Love. 

Dear sweet little girl, it is just all too fitting that your family is ringing in the new year in a new country with a fresh start lying ahead. Yet I can only imagine how tough this coming year will be for you. It will be a long process of getting accustomed to life here - one that will at times be messy and frustrating, yet also, we hope, fulfilling and incredibly beautiful.

Know that we, your new Canadian family, will be there with you every step of the way.

Because sweet girl - we believe in Love and we pray that you and your beautiful family will come to believe in Love, too.




Yes, the first of two Syrian refugee families that our church family is sponsoring landed in Canada this week! We met them yesterday, New Year's Eve - and how fitting is that?! Your prayers are mightily appreciated as we step into this year-long journey together. #WeWelcomeRefugees


*As of now, our family prefers not to be named publicly on the internet.

Worlds Collide

As we barrel in towards Christmas, a re-post... One of my favourites from last year's Seven straight days of Christmas Creative Writing - a 7-day journey to the manger through creative words.

You notice her. She’s got one of those faces that makes you look twice. She’s maybe only a few years older than you. You wonder what it’d be like, to stand out in vibrant colour like that, instead of always being the faded black and white in the background. She catches your eye and for a moment you think she’s noticed you. Then she opens the door and slips into the warm world of red, snowflake-covered cups of low-fat, double pump, extra whip. You shut your eyes and lean your head against the wall, bitterly trying to tune out a Christmas carol coming from who-knows-where. His law is love, and His gospel is peace. Yeah, right.

A few minutes later, you feel the fleeting heat on your cheek for a moment as the door opens again but you don’t bother to open your eyes or reach for your cardboard sign, because you know the answer will be no, as usual. You understand but you don’t all at once. They have places to go and family to see and you just don’t belong in that world of vibrant colour. You’ll always be faded background noise, the part of the 7 billion that enables the other part to drink from their red, snowflake-covered cups.

"Excuse me?" Your eyes flutter open as you realize the voice is close enough to possibly be talking to you. It’s her, and she’s holding out a red, snowflake-covered cup, and a pretty paper bag. “I bought you some hot chocolate. And a muffin.” You stare at her. “I mean, you don’t have to - Actually I was just - I mean, it’s for you.” She fumbles slightly and holds it out and you can’t believe this face that lives in colour and makes you look twice is even capable of stumbling over her words. You reach out and grab today’s grace. Today’s healing. And you decide that it’s enough for you to believe that His gospel is peace again, at least for today.

-

You notice her. She’s got one of those faces that makes you look twice. She’s maybe only a few years younger than you. You wonder what it’d be like, to fade into a quiet black and white background, instead of always living in fast-paced, vibrant colour. She catches your eye and for a moment you think she’s noticed you. You panic, and quickly open the door and slip into the warm world of red, snowflake-covered cups of low-fat, double pump, extra whip. You shut your eyes and think about what that girl must think of all these people running past her for five dollar coffees and you hear a carol in the background and you wonder if she even believes it. His law is love and His gospel is peace. Yeah, right.

You step up to the counter and order a peppermint hot chocolate. Then you surprise yourself and order a second, along with an apple-cinnamon muffin. You push open the door, and you’re not sure why your heart’s beating out of your chest. You’ve nailed every big presentation you’ve ever made and somehow you’re nervous about offering this girl some breakfast. She’s still there, eyes closed, head leaned back and you understand and you don’t all at once. You just don’t know that black and white world. You’ve always lived in this intoxicating vibrant colour and you just hate that these two worlds even exist and you know you have nothing and everything to do with their existence.

“Excuse me?” Her eyes flutter open and your heart beats faster. You hold out the red, snowflake-covered cup, and the paper bag. “I bought you some hot chocolate. And a muffin.” She stares at you. “I mean, you don’t have to - Actually I was just - I mean, it’s for you.” You fumble slightly and hold it out and you wonder if this face that lives in black and white and makes you look twice ever feels nervous holding out her cardboard sign. She reaches out and grabs the meager offering and this is today's grace. Today’s healing. And you decide that it’s enough for you to believe that His gospel is peace again, at least for today.

Merry Two-Days til Christmas... Let's live like His law is love, in this season and always.

Haiyan - One Year Later {+Giveaway Winner!}

So... Giveaway winner. I am please to announce that the winner of the Freedom Creations giveaway is Tara! Woot! :)

Today, we're heading back to the Philippines, as this month marks the one-year anniversary of Typhoon Haiyan...

-

The day my family and I roll into this coastal Filipino town, the sun is shining and the light ocean breeze is the type that lightly dances across your skin, providing a short reprieve from the humid air. A few storm clouds occasionally threaten to let loose, but our day stays relatively dry for a Filipino rainy-season day.

The ocean is calm and skies are clear today, and by the innocence of the lightly bouncing waves and rolling clouds, you'd never be able to guess the havoc those same waves and skies wreaked on this town just months before.

But Haiyan's mark is still evident in Daanbantayan. An occasional pile of wreckage, a home nobody has bothered to repair, or blindingly shiny roofs - replacements of the ones that blew away - are reminders of the infamous Typhoon Haiyan. 

In some ways, everything has changed for the people of this coastal town. Yet in other ways, life has gone on, and the resilience of the people of the Philippines has never shined brighter. 

We enjoy lunch at a local restaurant with a staff member from Habitat for Humanity Philippines, Love, who tells us first-hand about being one of the first NGOs on the ground after Typhoon Haiyan hit. 

I never cease to be blown away by those who implement the work on the field for organizations that I hear, speak, and write so much about back here at home. As someone who hopes to work in the field one day, it's both inspiring and challenging. As an advocate for these organizations back here at home, it's something I want to share again and again - give, volunteer, spread the word! Because there are people working so. hard. day in and day out and how could we not support them?!

We were able to visit some of Habitat for Humanity's build sites, and see the homes (at various stages) that will be given to victims of Typhoon Haiyan. The willingness of the staff and volunteers to give of themselves is absolutely incredible. We can all learn from their servant hearts and radical generosity.

You see - amongst all the wreckage, there is hope for that broken and beautiful country. I believed that before Haiyan, and I will continue to believe that after. 

Yes, one year later, the scars still run deep. How could they not?

But one year later, this country has also begun a resilient rebuild. 

One year later, there is hope that can be found in the shambles, and that is a beautiful thing. 

When Oceans Rise

When oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace. 

As one of the many airplanes that carried me back and forth over the Pacific this summer descended on the Philippines, these words poured through my earbuds - over the plane's whirring engines and the wailing baby 6 rows up.

Oceans became a little bit of a landing tradition. 

You see, many places in the Philippines have the most gorgeous landings.

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Arriving in Cebu at sunset. Breathtakingly beautiful! #1000gifts #childhoodhome #latergram

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You come in over the ocean and as you peer out the window, it rises towards you and you don't quite see land until the landing gear is touching it.

So, I mean, I'm definitely not a nervous flyer (quite the opposite actually), but these landings can be a little nerve-wracking, too.

Talk about trust without borders.

And so it is with all beautiful things - they're also a little scary, a little nerve-wracking.

Beauty requires trust.

We sang Oceans at youth group last night - When oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace.

And I'm right back on that plane.

And I'm standing right there again - the tide slowly rolling in and out, its calming rhythm keeping time to the words I'm speaking to a rolling camera and countless teens back home all at once.

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Shooting the standup with @_godsgal4ever #standup #cebu #philippines #poverty #hope

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But this beach is no Sandals ad. A slum is sprawled out behind me, and the curious faces of the Filipino locals - mostly children - stare at me from beyond the camera. Four Canadians and an American with a camera is no daily occurrence, I guess.

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#philippines

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The watermarks are just visible on the stilts of these childrens' homes behind me, and the day before when we had visited their homes, we're told that their homes will sometimes flood during high tide.

When oceans rise...

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These adorable kids watched us film for two hours. #cebu #philippines

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#cebu #philippines

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And me? I'm just numb. 

The reality of it all comes at me in waves. 

When our team leader - what a blessing she is - leaned over to me in the van on the way back to the hotel and said, "It's hard not to become desensitized to all this. But I just constantly remember how very real this is. This is their lives."

And when later that night my sweet roommate and I realized that those kids were still there - they are still there - sleeping in those potentially flooded homes.

And most recently, the staggering reality of that place hits me at youth group. While singing Oceans.

The words leave my lips: When oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace. For I am Yours, and You are mine.

I'm painfully aware of what I'm saying.

How easy is it for me to sing those words?

When oceans rise, my house doesn't flood. Plain and simple.

Of course my soul can rest - the floors of my home aren't soaked with those rising oceans.

Sure, I've got waves crashing at me but not quite as literally as those sweet Filipino children I met on that beach.

How is that fair?

I'm painfully aware that I'm angry.

I'm angry at my culture and my comfort zones and I'm angry at me.

Angry at how easily I'm able to sing those words and at how I so pathetically want need the comfort that allows me to easily sing those words.

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To be painfully blunt, I'm angry at how much I don't care once those Filipino children aren't right in front of me.

I'm angry at all the ways I don't want to change for the sake of justice, and oh man - isn't it an ugly world where I can sing a beautiful song about rising oceans while a Filipino family's greatest trouble is a rising ocean beneath their home?

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders.

Beauty requires trust.

And isn't that it? Those words I spoke on that beach to that rolling camera - the God we serve has a perfect plan to bring beauty to this ugly world.

All He asks of us is trust. 

He asks us to trust Him enough to say yes to our part in this plan, and that is all. That is our hope.

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, let me walk upon the waters, wherever You may call me. 

Yes, God. Wherever You may call me.

I trust You, for I know that beauty requires trust. 

And in a world where oceans rise into those Filipino homes and into my life, I trust You and I. say. yes.

When oceans rise -

My soul will rest in Your embrace. 

In Too Deep

Minor face-lift around here... same old space, don't worry. :)

Oh, and ps: this becoming the all-time most-read post ever around here (by a long shot!)? Crazy. Blown away and thankful for grace. Praying that it touches and launches hearts into an extraordinary way of holding up the talented among us. 

Anyways - just some Jesus-thoughts for your soul around here today. In the dead of  a pretty dreary winter, lots of souls might need a little bit of comfort. 

Happy Monday!

-

Hey, child of the Most High? 

Sure - there are lots of reasons to stop believing.

But before you go, you precious, precious creation, contemplate this - there's something oddly comforting about Jesus being your only option.

Not your #1. But your only.

We sang it during worship last week - There is none besides You, God.

Yeah, I get it. Sometimes it seems like hope will never show.

But this. This -  

To whom shall we go?

I imagine Jesus' face, asking this question to his disciples: "You do not want to leave too, do you?"

Don't you think his face was just utter disappointment, accepted defeat, hopelessness? A sadness that says: I love you. I. Love. You. But I can just see you leaving this love behind.

Kind of like that boy in middle school - the one everyone roots for - that wears his heart on his sleeve and the girl still says no. C'mon - you know that face. 

Or like that girl in that book that says I love you. But this cancer in me will only hurt you and I accept that you'll go.

But the boy that she says that to? He goes Too late. I'm in too deep. To whom would I go?

And that's Jesus, here in this story - "You do not want to leave too, do you?" 

His face reflects a moment of sadness as he watches his bride run - run because his words are too much to handle; the prospect of this love is too much to grasp; the present pain too much to bear, even for an eternal love in the long run.

And Peter's response is as painfully real and profoundly comforting as it gets - "Master, to whom would we go? We've already committed ourselves, confident that you are the Holy One of God."

We're in too deep, he says - and absolutely, positively, profoundly OK with that. Oddly and desperately comforted by it.

We know nothing else. We don't want to know anything else. And even if we did - we couldn't. Just couldn't.

Yeah, nothing holds us back, but for some strange reason, even if your head says go, your heart - somewhere deep in your subconscious - pulls you to stay.

Because you're in too deep and that is the most beautiful thing of all.

I know it sounds strange, but think about it and feel it.

This rhythm of grace, just let it overcome you. Let it be your life.

There is none besides You, God.

And for that - I am thankful.

Hold on, you wild, passionate, tired soul. Because I believe you can.

I believe you will.

Day Three: Worlds Collide

You notice her. She’s got one of those faces that makes you look twice. She’s maybe only a few years older than you. You wonder what it’d be like, to stand out in vibrant colour like that, instead of always being the faded black and white in the background. She catches your eye and for a moment you think she’s noticed you. Then she opens the door and slips into the warm world of red, snowflake-covered cups of low-fat, double pump, extra whip. You shut your eyes and lean your head against the wall, bitterly trying to tune out a Christmas carol coming from who-knows-where. His law is love, and His gospel is peace. Yeah, right.

A few minutes later, you feel the fleeting heat on your cheek for a moment as the door opens again but you don’t bother to open your eyes or reach for your cardboard sign, because you know the answer will be no, as usual. You understand but you don’t all at once. They have places to go and family to see and you just don’t belong in that world of vibrant colour. You’ll always be faded background noise, the part of the 7 billion that enables the other part to drink from their red, snowflake-covered cups. 

"Excuse me?" Your eyes flutter open as you realize the voice is close enough to possibly be talking to you. It’s her, and she’s holding out a red, snowflake-covered cup, and a pretty paper bag. “I bought you some hot chocolate. And a muffin.” You stare at her. “I mean, you don’t have to - Actually I was just - I mean, it’s for you.” She fumbles slightly and holds it out and you can’t believe this face that lives in colour and makes you look twice is even capable of stumbling over her words. You reach out and grab today’s grace. Today’s healing. And you decide that it’s enough for you to believe that His gospel is peace again, at least for today.

-

You notice her. She’s got one of those faces that makes you look twice. She’s maybe only a few years younger than you. You wonder what it’d be like, to fade into a quiet black and white background, instead of always living in fast-paced, vibrant colour. She catches your eye and for a moment you think she’s noticed you. You panic, and quickly open the door and slip into the warm world of red, snowflake-covered cups of low-fat, double pump, extra whip. You shut your eyes and think about what that girl must think of all these people running past her for five dollar coffees and you hear a carol in the background and you wonder if she even believes it. His law is love and His gospel is peace. Yeah, right.

You step up to the counter and order a peppermint hot chocolate. Then you surprise yourself and order a second, along with an apple-cinnamon muffin. You push open the door, and you’re not sure why your heart’s beating out of your chest. You’ve nailed every big presentation you’ve ever made and somehow you’re nervous about offering this girl some breakfast. She’s still there, eyes closed, head leaned back and you understand and you don’t all at once. You just don’t know that black and white world. You’ve always lived in this intoxicating vibrant colour and you just hate that these two worlds even exist and you know you have nothing and everything to do with their existence. 

“Excuse me?” Her eyes flutter open and your heart beats faster. You hold out the red, snowflake-covered cup, and the paper bag. “I bought you some hot chocolate. And a muffin.” She stares at you. “I mean, you don’t have to - Actually I was just - I mean, it’s for you.” You fumble slightly and hold it out and you wonder if this face that lives in black and white and makes you look twice ever feels nervous holding out her cardboard sign. She reaches out and grabs the meager offering and this is today's grace. Today’s healing. And you decide that it’s enough for you to believe that His gospel is peace again, at least for today.

Part of a Christmas series here on the blog: Seven straight days of Christmas Creative Writing - a 7-day journey to the manger through creative words. 

Day One: Back to the Manger

Day Two: Fresh & New

Back to the Manger

It's exactly 7 days 'til Christmas - and I'm about to do something crazy.

Seven straight days of Christmas Creative Writing - a 7-day journey to the manger through creative words. 

Seven pieces to lead us straight to Christmas. Maybe you'll join me and read along here. :)

Merry Christmas!

-

Day One: Back to the Manger

In a shepherds’ field near Bethlehem; 10 years after the birth of Christ.

“Do you remember it, Pascal?”

This shepherd’s eyes dance as he nudges his friend, careful to keep at least one sparkling eye on his flock.

“The sky just ripped open. The angels. The symphony of it all. I was terrified. And you,” A spurt of laughter consumes the jovial shepherd, “You looked as if you’d seen a ghost!” His laughter continues.

“Glory to God in the heavens! And peace on earth!

Do you remember?”

“No.”

Pascal’s face is stone. He shifts his staff from one hand to the other and turns bored eyes to his merry companion. “Keep your eyes on the sheep, Martin. We can’t afford to lose another one.”

“Ohhhh.” Martin’s jovial mood doesn’t falter as he waves last week’s incident off. “I found the little lamb, didn’t I?” He tosses a grin at Pascal, but it’s not returned.

Silence.

“Ok, Pascal, what is it? What’s the matter with you, you don’t remember?”

Eventually, Pascal heaves a heavy sigh. “Ten years, Martin. Ten years. So what if I don’t remember?”

His look drills deep into his friend’s eyes. “Sometimes I think it was all a dream. Crazy shepherds we were, who made something up to brighten the long, dreary days.

‘A Saviour! A Messiah!’ - really, Martin? Really? It’s been ten years; have we heard of any saving feats of this so-called King?”

Martin looks back in stunned silence.

“I didn’t think so.”

After a slight pause, Martin grasps the shoulder of his friend. “Pascal! I know just what you need.”

The energetic one of the two jumps to his feet and pulls the other with him.

“Martin -”

“Oh - calm down. The sheep will be fine for a few hours. I’ll tell Jeffery to keep an eye out when we walk by.”

“Jeffery’s over half a field away!” Pascal protests. 

But there’s no stopping Martin now. The solemn shepherd reluctantly follows his enthusiastic counterpart.

Over a few hills and towards town, and Pascal knows where his friend is taking him.

And suddenly they’re right there - in front of the stable.

Life has resumed as normal - much has changed, and ten years’ time has taken it’s toll.

Pascal realizes that business has gone on as planned here in this stable, unrelenting and unaware of the holy event that took place between these walls.

“Oh.” Pascal’s face softens to quiet reverence.

The manger is still the same one. Same place.

Somehow, it’s stood the test of time, perhaps the only nod to acknowledgment of the holy birth.

O Holy Night.

And he can see it all - the faithful girl and her courageous husabnd. The animals, the hay, the bright star.

And the baby.

The Saviour.

And he knows they didn’t just make it up.

In fact, perhaps he can even believe it again -

Believe Him again.

He whispers it to Martin, himself and that baby -

“I remember.”


In this week coming up on Christmas, may you find your way back to the manger - no matter how long it’s been - to remember how Love came down for you.

On This Last Day of Compassion Blog Month...

If you can't feed a hundred people, then feed just one. 

- Mother Teresa

...I have learned that I will not change the world.
Jesus will do that.
I can, however, change the world for one person. 

- Katie Davis

I think the most overwhelming thing about ending poverty is that word - millions. 

Millions without access to clean drinking water.

Millions living on less that $1 a day.

Millions of dying babies, uneducated children and starving families.

And while it's important to know the facts, it's also important to stare all those numbers in the face and say this:

"I'll start with one."

And so there are about 10 hours left in Compassion Blog Month. [Here on my blog, we've been to Kenya, and back to my childhood.]

I have no clue where we're at in terms of our 3160 sponsorships goal.

Doesn't really matter. I'll ask you this: Will you change the world of one today?

If you can't educate a hundred, a thousand, a million - will you educate one?

If you can't feed, clothe, protect, and inspire a million - will you do so for one?

If you can't tell a million people about the gospel - will you start with one?

Trust me - the most life-changing thing you'll ever do. 

And, I really suspect you won't stop at just one. :)

As we go through each day, our heart's cry should be, Lord, where would you have me give, serve, and invest myself to bring hope to the poor?

- Johnny Carr, Orphan Justice

Dear Childhood Me -

Hey, you.

We're pretty similar, you know.

I guess we are the same person.

We both have an unhealthy amount of energy, a love for telling stories, and way too much hair on our heads.

Oh, and we both laugh at every chance we get, smile at strangers, and eat way too much ice cream.

Yeah, and I'm still a Leafs fan (Dad's fault, ok?). And, no that growth spurt everyone talks about only sorta-kinda happened. Cuz I'm still short (Also Dad's fault.).

Oh yeah, and we're also both perfectionists.

You know what, we're pretty similar, but I think I have at least some wisdom to impart to you.

Ease Up. 

You'll be a little shocked to hear that I'm trying really hard not to be so worried about being perfect anymore.

And concentrate more on clinging to our Jesus' version of perfect.

Let me tell you, girl, it's way better.

You know that Jesus guy, who you asked to live in your heart at four?

You would not believe how complicated-ly simple He gets throughout the coming years.

I know you don't totally get it all yet. (Neither do I, really.) But in your tween years you'll start to claim this faith for your own. No more just going through the motions.

You'll start asking questions. Soon it will lead you to this one: "Mom, Dad, can I have a little sister through Compassion?"

Girl - this is going to change your life. 

You're going to start to learn how broken is beautiful, and what Jesus really meant when he said "Blessed are the hungry and thirsty." (I know those beatitudes always confused you... I mean, wouldn't Jesus want you to be rich, not poor, in spirit?)

Sponsoring a child will be the start of some crazy things for you. You'll ask tough questions about what the Jesus-life really looks like... and you'll start to realize pursuing justice and serving the poor is at the very heart of following Jesus.

You'll go on a trip to the Philippines, and you'll go twice to Wilmington. You'll start to learn more and more about all the people in this world who are hurting, and how the God you call Father so desperately wants them to find hope.

You'll start to realize how this pursuing justice thing... it's a lifestyle, not a hobby.

Many of your friends won't get it. Some days, you won't want to get it.

But really, you'll always be damaged to the First world life. And you'll always be so thankful for that.

Does the life of living justice suck sometimes? Yes. You'll get impatient, frustrated, some days you'll lose hope. Sometimes, you'd rather be self-centred. You'll fail lots and lots and lots of times.

And so this is my word of advice to you today: Start practicing imperfect.

Because in this world, you will have trouble.

But take heart -

He has overcome the world.

-

It's Compassion Blog Month! I'm part of a network of bloggers called the Compassion Bloggers who have one goal: Use our voices to release children from poverty in Jesus' name. Check us out & join us at our website.

And Blog Month? Blog Month has one goal: Get 3160 children sponsored. As of Tuesday, we were at 1747. (More than halfway!!!)

You can be a part of reaching that goal, by sponsoring a child through Compassion International!

Seriously, it will change your life. It changed mine and my family's.

So, if you're American click here, and Canadians click here, and start your journey.

Will it feel overwhelming sometimes? Yes.

But take heart, because Jesus - with His hope, joy, love and freedom - He's got your back in this world changing business. :)

The Light

This was my Media Arts ISU this year. We were supposed to write an 8 line poem and then create an image to go with each line - this is what I came up with. :)

Media: Photography. Borrowed photos are credited in the caption, otherwise I took them myself. All editing was done on www.picmonkey.com.

-

photo credits: Alexander Olsson Photography

photo credits: Keely Marie Scott Photography

photo credits: My Mom

"For you were once in darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light." Ephesians 5:8

Because Jesus-Love Is Always The Answer

An explosion.

Another.

And a nation, a world, a society explodes and hearts everywhere shatter into a million pieces, because any age is devastating, but 8-years-old? That's too soon.

They hunt for a few days, and a society watches, captivated.

And they bring in a boy only three years older than me.

And 19-years-old? That's also too soon.

This. This is how a Christ-follower needs to respond. [This link is a must-read.]

Because me, 19-year-old Dzhokar and 8-year-old Martin, all three of us are just kids born into this terrible crazy world. 

And us image-bearers are failing hard. Because when a 19-year-old boy knows nothing better than to drop a bomb and kill a 8-year-old, we've failed them both.

We've failed to show them a God who cherishes peace. We've failed to bear the image of the Prince of Peace. 

And sometimes, failures don't get second chances. With Martin, we don't get a second chance. 

How's it feel to be robbed of a second chance?

But in our failure with Dzhokhar, we get one. We get a second chance and what are we gonna do with it? Rob him of his? 

No, no. We can't.

Here's why: We're all recipients of second chances. 

What he did - it absolutely was not okay. It makes me sick to my stomach. Yes - he needs to serve a hard punishment. But more importantly - he needs to learn peace. 

He needs to be shown peace.

And I can't hate Dzhokhar.

I can't hate him because we're pretty much the same: Sinners, yet infinitely valuable children of the Most High, created in His image.

And I can't hate him because then I would be forced to hate me. And every other person on this earth.

I can't hate him because Jesus still loves him and I want to be like Jesus.

And so we can't kill him. Because of something as simple as an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. Because of something as simple as he's just like you and me - loved, known, cherished and relentlessly pursued by the King.

If you're grieving - if you're Martin's family or a person now missing a limb or someone like me looking on horrified - I understand why you could hate Dzhokhar. 

An explosion went off in your life, but an explosion went off in Dzhokhar's too.

All our worlds, they explode daily, and we all just try to heal and pull our way back.

And if we still believe in hope for ourselves -

we have no choice but to believe in hope for Dzhokhar too.

The Beauty Of Our God

When's the last time you just sat in awe at the beauty of our God?

Do it.

This past weekend I went on a retreat with my youth group, and what I'm taking home isn't the crazy games, hilarity or even the teaching.

What I loved most about the weekend was just being - together, brothers and sisters in Christ, His children, family.

Arms raised or around each other, hearts worshiping our beautiful Saviour and loving each other, souls basking in the presence of our Abba Father.

Ever so often, we all need a little taste of heaven on earth. We all need to be reminded of the beauty of our Lord.

Because we come home and we're tossed right back into the brokenness of our world.

And this world is not our home but we're here to be His image bearers and we're failing because that's what we humans do.

And here's what we can do -

we do our most very best to be the best image bearers possible.

Then we just wait patiently and in eager anticipation for our Lord because really - He knows what He's doing.

And one day we'll get to spend forever basking in the presence of out Abba Father as His children.

How beautiful is that?

For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. Romans 8:19-21

Stories From Wilmington: You Don't Choose Where You Were Born

He tells me he skipped the first hour of school to buy pizza and Takis.

Now it's well after school and he's just chilling on the streets talking to a random girl from Canada.

And if this was me in Grade 4 (or now, actually.), my mom would've reported missing persons already. (Not really.)

But really. Where are his parents?

And I don't know the answer and I'm not sure I want to know but I think I know.

I have absolutely no idea for this kid specifically, but if I profiled an average kid from Wilmington, I'm guessing dad's long gone and mom's either pulling a double at a job (whether it's a legal or illegal one, not too sure), wrapped up with a boyfriend or passed out on the couch.

And we can throw judgements and toss out suggestions like get a job or go to college, but maybe it's us who didn't even give them that chance.

And that might not be our fault either because we didn't choose where we were born and neither did they, so we're just a bunch of people born into a lifestyle and maybe if we ditched "us and them" and just did it together, that's what would work out?

Because being born into the suburbs, where hoarding and selfishness and other terrible things reign, I didn't get to choose that and neither did any of the interns or staff at UrbanPromise Wilmington. And being born into the inner city, where gangs and bad education and other terrible things reign, none of the UP kids, nor their parents or families got to choose that.

What we do get to choose is what we do after we're born and what we do about what we were born into. 

Because we all share two things in common:

1. We were all born into a terrible world.

2. We were all born into a world where hope still exists through Jesus.

And so people like the UrbanPromise staff are working to rid of the hoarding, selfishness, gangs, bad education and all those other terrible things all at once - because they believe in hope.

And teams like mine come in, and we see it - we were born into a terrible world.

But hope can live in and through us - all of us. 

Because that same fourth grader - I got to pray with him and do homework with him and play charades with him and you know what happened? Just a little bit of the selfishness and other terrible things from where I was born died in me, and a little bit of the bad education and other terrible things from where he was born died in him.

It works. 

I see the terrible world I was born into - and I try just a little to make it less terrible.

My current favourite fourth grader? He sees the terrible world he was born into - and he tries just a little to make it less terrible.

And I help him and he helps me and isn't that the Body of Christ and isn't that how it was supposed to be?

And the only way hope lives? Is through Jesus.

Let me tell you something - You (yes, you.) were born into a terrible world.

No, it's not your fault. You didn't choose that.

But what you can choose, is what you're gonna do about it.

-

Here's something you can do about it - would you help UrbanPromise Wilmington continue to bring hope to the terrible world we were born into? 

Here's the thing: We had the awesome opportunity to eat at UP's Executive Director's house while in Wilmington, and he said last year was not a good year financially, and they're just trusting God for this year.

It's tough for Canadians because of tax receipt stuff but I know I have some US readers, and this is me asking you to consider supporting UrbanPromise Wilmington. I can tell you from experience that the Kingdom-work they're in is real and amazing. If you feel so led, clicking here will bring you to their donation page.

Thank you! :)

-

Just realizing the lack of photos in my last post, so here are a few photos to end today's post. :) Also, I now know that this series is going to be at least 3 posts long... so stay tuned! ;)

At one UP Wilmington's four elementary school camps/after school programs, Camp Victory. I spent all of this and last year at this camp - love that place! [CV is clearly the best camp, it's just that people from other camps can't admit it. ;)]

Saturday basketball! :)

The team. I have a whole lot of love for these people! ❤