The Gospel

Hey people,

I'm home. After one heck of a semester I've packed my life up again and plopped it back in Unionville for a couple weeks. I'll be shipping it overseas in a few weeks, but until then I'd like to offer some thoughts.

We are always learning. All the time. Even if it's just directions to somewhere, how your friend's night was, or philosophical postulations on divine foreknowledge, the world is a never-ending book to learn from. Rather daunting, if you think about it. But still very exciting. So all of that to say, I learned a ton this semester. Much of it I would like to share with you, and lucky for you, I can! I spent much of the semester studying different theories of psychotherapy and internally wrestling with their implications for faith. At the end of it all, I wrote a whopper of a paper on my views of human nature and problems and solutions for mental health (which I am quite proud of). So if you're interested in learning about the "Bodenian" approach to therapy, you can find it here. Personal Counseling Theory

Alright. That's enough of that.

There is one thing I would like to say, and it deserves much more thought than what I have time to give it right now. It concerns the Gospel, the Good News, the Christian message, or whatever you would call it. I would like to share with you what months of philosophical-postulating, theological-pondering, and thoughtful beard-stroking has taught me. Through my Philosophy of Religion class and personal investment in the topic, I quite literally dissected every facet of my faith in Jesus Christ, held it up to every lens of logical scrutiny, and somehow tried to stuff it back into my heart, where it must reside and guide my life.

The Gospel, the core of Christian belief, the saving message of God is this -- to know God.

To know him. To truly, intimately, deeply, emotionally, intellectually know God. That's simple, you may think. Perhaps to you it is. But for those of us who find ourselves thinking often about God, talking about him and learning about him, how radical and revolutionary it is to realize that we can talk to him. God is not a distant star to study, but a person to know.

For me, that is what it means to be a Christian. Know God. Funny concept to boil it all down to two little words, but those words are the starting point for all the intricacies and compulsions of belief. Once we know God for who he is, how can we but love him with our whole heart, soul, mind, and strength? Once we have known him, how can we but read his Word and pray and sing and live for him?

To know God is to realize our own position before him. We deserve nothing, yet he loves us lavishly. We defy him daily, yet he forgives us undeservedly. We are crafted pottery, eternally cherished by an eternal Potter and created for his glory. 

So when we say we are "saved", what does that mean, exactly? We are saved from our crippling, sinful ignorance, and brought into redeeming knowledge of the Saviour. That's amazing.

In 1 Corinthians 1, Paul says that God has called us into fellowship with his Son Jesus Christ. That's what we are called to. Not just to Church or youth group or church potlucks or to be a good person and to do Christian things. But we are called to know God, and be daily transformed by that knowledge. To fellowship with Jesus Christ and grow everyday as branches drawing nearer to the vine.


1 Corinthians 13:12 "Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known."

 - jmb

Lake Shore

Hello good world,

The times I feel most inspired to write something here seem to be the busiest, unfortunately. So then I come to a night like this where I have time to write, but I almost feel at a loss for material. I may have been at a real loss, in fact, had I not been presented with something rather frightening last night. Something terrible, terrifying, and quite frankly unbelievable.


Lake Shore.
Ladies and gentlemen, the Jersey Shore has come to Canada.


If you are familiar with Jersey Shore or its dazzlingly despicable legacy, then you might presently cease to read this post and retreat to some Apocalypse-ready bunker to wait out this onslaught of magnificently trashy entertainment. But that implies that it will end, when the scariest thing may be that it won't.

Jersey Shore is the ultimate in gratuitous reality television. For TV today it's not a novel concept. Just some filthy rich and beautiful people living their hedonistic lives -- drinking, tanning, working out, dating, fighting, crying, sleeping (together), shouting, and a little more drinking --  in front of the whole world. But I suppose what made Jersey Shore such a smashing success are the stereotypes. These unreal characters are beach bums (already room for stereotyping), living in New Jersey (sorry, Jersey, but more stereotypes), and are Italian. So throw it all together and you have hit television. We can watch from a distance, and giggle and gawk as every stereotype of such people is confirmed and strengthened.

I know people who live on the Jersey Shore. None of them are like the cast of the show, and yet their home will always be associated with this kind of blatant narcissism and youthful debauchery. Like it or not, the Jersey Shore will long be known for a small group of crazy kids. So when I was excitedly informed by a friend that "Canada has their own Jersey Shore!" I was less than impressed. Then I found out it's set in Toronto, and I was suddenly quite concerned. 

You see, this show is not just a copy of Jersey Shore. It's already been called "more offensive." The oh-so-tasteful producers have thrown 8 people from different ethnic backgrounds together, and given them appropriate names like "the Jew" or "the Pole" or "the Albanian." You get the picture. On the surface, it seems like a wonderful opportunity to showcase Toronto's diversity, and that's exactly what the producer claims he is doing.

The problem, of course, Mr. Producer, is that these people are not real people. Sure, they are Toronto residents and big Jersey Shore fans who lined up for hours and auditioned to make the final cut for a show that will hopefully shoot them towards fame... but who is going to do all that and stand before a panel of judges and be anything like themselves? They've all watched every episode of Jersey Shore. They know what makes reality TV popular. The producers want attitude and sex appeal and drama, and the young stars want fame and money. It's an easy trade.

As a proud Torontonian watching his city from afar, I really hope Toronto is not thrust into the world's consciousness by the fame of Lake Shore. I wish all the best for these folks, but this show truthfully doesn't do anyone any good. They are still deciding on a network to broadcast it, I believe, so there's still a chance it won't air. Lines from "the Turk" like, "I'm not racist; I hate everyone... especially Jews" may slow things down. But better yet, we could all just throw out our TVs, cause the stuff on it isn't likely to get any better. Yeah, that'll do it..

If you just stop for a second to see these characters as real people, created by God for so much more, you see that behind their loud and brash and obnoxious behavior they are just screaming for love and attention. They are empty and unfulfilled, so they are digging their emptiness deeper in an attempt to get out. It's really sad, actually, and even sadder that their vulnerability and hunger will be exploited for a quick profit, by an audience combating their own emptiness. I'll just say it straight: these people need Jesus, to live the lives we were created for.

So as funny as it sounds, maybe I'll pray for the cast of Lake Shore. It can't hurt, and it certainly seems like they could use it. But anyways, I hope this is the first and last mention you ever hear of this show.

Sorry to be so serious. I should work on some jokes for next time.
Oh! I got it. I went to Jon Stewart's Rally to Restore Sanity last week and this sign (one of many) made me chuckle.


To all of you supporting anti-immigration policies: 

You're right, immigrants are a problem.
Just ask the Native Americans.


Thank you very much. Have a good night.
jmb

I Like Maine

Hello world,

I've just returned from four days up in Maine, where I frolicked about with festive Fall frivolity among colorful trees, soaring hilltops and pounding ocean. We had a few days off for Fall Break, so I spent the time with a few friends at one fellow's house up there. Sure was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. 

Of course I'm grateful to God for all times of the year, but this season is especially awe-inspiring for me. Likely for you as well. Anyway, there's much I could say, but I wrote a little article for the Op-Ed section of our school paper. In case you don't subscribe to The Swinging Bridge, I've shortened it and posted below. Hope you like it!

What's Like Got to Do With It?

Your cousin gets engaged. You like that. You post vacation photos. Your mom likes that. You share a joke with a new friend. He likes it. That kid from 8th grade science likes it too. Justin Bieber smiles. And 15 million people like it. 

My question: what is like, exactly? 

It’s no secret that Facebook has radically altered our social world. From the moment we sign over our names we are forever members of a new community – an online society that exists everywhere . . . and yet exists nowhere. Connections unhindered unite us with mindless ease to 500 million people across all manners of time and space. 

Facebook is too large of a monster to wrestle in one go, and it’s too precious to us all to be adequately condemned. But there are certain aspects of this cyber-beast that rob too much of real friendship’s risk to be ignored. And this whole business of “liking”, for me, goes too far. 

Once upon a time, dear cousin would have called you personally to deliver the good news. Mom would’ve been delighted to see the scrapbook you completed. Your joke would’ve been a special moment between two friends. And Justin Bieber, well, in another time he wouldn’t be.

But that isn’t the world our social lives inhabit anymore. Instead, each action can become a public display. In this new reality, the user chooses each social move carefully. He crafts his own image and selects his encounters; or when he so desires he simply observes unnoticed.

So it is in this era of cheapened social interaction that we find the ‘like’ button cheaper still. It takes the remnant of authentic exchange and whittles it to the core – to a primal instinct of pleasure or displeasure. Your personal congratulation to your cousin turned into an exclamatory wall post; now it is a virtual thumbs-up. 

So we have ‘groups’ petitioning the folks at Facebook to create a ‘dislike’ button. After all, if we are reducing our response to a simple affirmative, why ignore the other basic affective state? If this happens, it doesn’t seem long before all words may be lost to our virtual selves; each newsfeed only a litany of thumbs up or down.

I believe that we were created for community and can function powerfully in authentic relationship. And it is this authenticity that is at risk when we maintain a friendship with sporadic 'likes.' There is no depth to our compliment or significance to our approval when it is so diminished. If we were vulnerable behind our Facebook profiles before, we are even less so when we use no words in our exchange. It’s simple and it’s safe to ‘like’ what you otherwise might have discussed – but perhaps it’s too simple, and perhaps too safe. 

You could argue that this isn't a big deal, that though interaction be cheapened, friendship itself is strengthened. Even if you are just ‘liking’ someone else’s social activity, it’s still better than not interacting at all, right? And, anyways, you have 1, 627 friends. You just don’t have time to provide a deeper comment.

But there is a bigger issue here, I think. It’s simply a matter of how much we dare to think. How much will we question the ideas thrown at our minds or the tools thrust in our hands? History is being made by every moment that passes, but it is shaped by the choices we make. So think for yourself about the quality of friendship you wish to pursue; the identity you wish to embrace; the stamp you leave on the world.

Here’s a thought: each action on Facebook is an indelible imprint in time, one that will last even until the day your grandchildren add you as a friend. What sorts of relationships do you cultivate? What do you say? What do you like? Know that this crazy social world we inhabit no longer exists in our memories and old letters on a dusty shelf. It’s with us everyday, and it’s open for all to see.

So what do we do? Perhaps nothing new. We just think about each action, and remember that the gravity of personal dialogue can never be fully reduced to a single click of approval. It’s messy, this friendship thing. Let’s keep it that way.

A Canadian Thanksgiving

A longer post is forthcoming. Until it arrives, I just wanted to wish everyone in the world a belated, but very happy Canadian Thanksgiving.

I learned yesterday that there are a few Canadian faculty here at Messiah. A number of people came up to me throughout the day to inform me that their Canadian professor had informed them that Monday was, in fact, Canadian Thanksgiving. Some of these professors are genuinely Canadian; others claim the title through a spouse or cousin or dog or whatever. The point is, you'll never feel more proud to be Canadian than when you're living in America.

So you tell your American friends that today is Thanksgiving Day in the motherland. And they exclaim, "What!? Canada has Thanksgiving? ...Um, what for?"

And you proceed to explain that though we had no Pilgrims, and no voyage of the Mayflower, and though our first encounter with the Natives is not recorded as a cordial family affair, we still have a harvest and a reason to be thankful. Then you'll tell them that it is celebrated in mid-October, because it's gosh-darn hard enough to farm the frozen tundra in July, let alone November. Then you'll describe how you celebrate in your ancestral igloo, but the turkey isn't cooked for fear of melting the roof. And after we gnaw the turkey, which is actually a Canadian Goose, we wash it down with some home-cooked poutine and throw on our toques before skating ootside.

But, I suppose, if they press you on your facts, they should know the truth. For instance, that the first recorded feast of thanksgiving in Canada dates to 1578. But whoever gets credit for originating the holiday, giving thanks is not as American as apple pie, anymore than it's as Canadian as peameal bacon.

So wherever you're at this Thanksgiving season (which, for me, spans 7 weeks and two countries), I hope it is blessed.

Cheers!
jmb




Mmm, peameal bacon.

Seize the Day! (or the late night ...)

I'm writing from an upstairs bedroom of the Guys' Restoration House, just off the campus of Messiah College, tucked away in the rolling hills of Grantham, Pennsylvania. The blaring horn of a passing freight train screams its plea for attention as the clanking and rattling of that great metallic serpent carries it winding and whining into the night. But I do not suppose you are here to read about freight trains. So allow me to explain what I've been up to.

For my friends north of the border, I'd call this my third year of university. For everyone else, I'm a college junior. I'm back in Grantham, Messiah's main campus, after my semester-long adventure in Philadelphia. I'm often asked if the transition from teeming urban campus to quaint rural setting was difficult. Truthfully, it wasn't. Though Messiah may be quieter and less socially turbulent and sometimes even a bit stifling, it's always been that way and that's, I think, precisely why we love it. It's such a safe and special place, so nurturing and yet so rich with opportunity. But ultimately, like any place one could ever go, it's all what you make of it.

So once again, I'm going to try to make this the best it can be. I'm living at the Restoration House, which is one of Messiah's themed "satellite houses". It's a small old house just across the train tracks from campus, focused on sustainable living and awareness and home to six fine gentlemen. There is a girls' house across the street, home to six fine young ladies who bake us muffins and help us when we're sad. It's like coming home everyday to a 12-person family.

Confused about the "sustainable living" bit? I was a little too, so that's why I joined the house. To boil it all down, we seek to be a strong community that encourages ourselves and our school to care about the effect of our actions on Creation. It's admittedly something I never thought too much about, except when (at home) I've had to discard my trash in three separate bins. So I'm living at this house, and I'm learning about the kind of impact we, as a society and as individuals, have on our world from the lifestyles we lead. All really takes to right some of these wrongs is some self-discipline and lifestyle changes. If you're wondering, I have yet to literally hug a tree, but it may happen someday.

I'm working for College Ministries. My official title is Worship Consultant, because, yes, even our worship needs consulting now. What I really do is plan and coordinate our weekly chapels, and give leadership in worship to different events around campus. So it's a lot of ministry-related stuff I've done for years, with some added desk-work, responsibility, and a paycheck. It's great. College ministry is no walk in the park, though, and many may be surprised to learn that planning a chapel service takes more than 'just picking a few songs' but I've learned a ton already.

Academically, this is the hardest semester of my college career thus far, but it's also hands down my favorite. I am a psychology major, finally studying psychology in depth. And I love it. I think I'll leave it at that for now, though. So stay tuned.

I regrettably have only had time for this pastime far past the time for my slumber. But I wanted to give a (very) brief overview of some of my involvements this semester. There is much more to be done and much more to be said, but as always I thank you greatly for supporting me on this ride.

Until next time, dear friends,
jmb

Return To Blogsville

Cue trumpets and wild fanfare. Send for your friends. Slaughter the fattened calf. Tonight we party, for the curator of this forgotten thought museum has returned!

Actually, do none of those things. Save the fattened calf for another time. But this humble author of his own reflections has, in fact, returned. I apologize for the prolonged absence, but I thank you for your patience and apparent devotion. I hereby declare the third season of this blog begun.

I'm admittedly a little too tired to write anything even remotely interesting, so I'll save my first post for the more favourable cognitive conditions of another day. Until then, thanks for checking in and I'll talk to you soon!

Feel free to talk back.
jmb

Who?

Hey World,

It's been a while. How you been?

I've been home for almost a month now, enjoying the familiar but all the same trying to view it with new lenses. I've been thinking about that a lot, actually. When one goes out and has memorable, formative experiences far from home, how does their perspective of home change? I'm trying to deliberately change mine for the better. What is this place I've grown up in -- the Greater Toronto Area -- and what sort of powerful, life-changing things can I experience in a place I've always known?

This all actually leads to the second major "lesson" I suppose I wanted to share based on my Philly experience. If the first could be expressed in a word, it would be WHY. The second, then, would be WHO.


Everybody has a story. That notion is no stranger to this little blog of mine, but it quite easily becomes one to this little mind of mine. And probably yours as well. So I'm on a mission to remedy that ailment of ignorance. I want to see the world from others' eyes, and find beauty in the story of their lives. The same God who created me (and you) and whom I praise for his love and providence in my life knows all these people just as intimately as myself.

I've been convicted lately of one peculiar pattern I've noticed. When a friend goes abroad for a semester or even overseas for a few weeks, I am so eager to hear their stories and so inspired by their experiences. For instance, a few friends went to China, and I was so excited for them and anxious to hear what it was like. What a fascinating cultural encounter! Then I come home, where nearly half of the people in my immediate neighborhood were born somewhere in Asia. Talk about an extraordinary story worth hearing. These are lives worth celebrating and people worth knowing.

But regardless of someone's birthplace, are they not still children of God beautiful and valuable to him? I guess like I've said before, I feel that so much could be accomplished if people just took an interest in other people's stories and perspectives. Asking "why" can only lead to a better understanding of just "who" we're dealing with.

God's Creation is a beautiful thing. It's unbelievable, really. If I may digress for a minute, the good people at the BBC recently produced what I see to be one of the most worship-inspiring videos ever -- Planet Earth. Of course they are evolutionary biologists working for a secular media company, but the images and natural beauty they've brought to DVD format points me directly to God. There is truly staggering beauty even in the darkest, deepest places. Why would God create such beautiful things that man would never see? Perhaps just because he is God. He is an awesome God with power incomparable and glory unending.

My point here, though, is that the beauty of Creation can be seen in all aspects of it. Including people. Especially people.  No two people are completely identical. Nobody's fingerprints are on anyone else's fingers. Your personality is your own. Your character is you, and it's yours alone. Everyone has a different story to tell. Everybody has heartaches and tragedies and hopes and desires and dreams. And they are all unique.

There are more cultures that one could ever know, and greater diversity than one could even fathom. But God knows it all. He created it all. It's common to praise diversity, but how often do we praise God for it? Like the beauty of Creation points me to the beauty of my Creator, so too the diversity of humans can only point me back to the eternal creativity of an eternal God. There are beautiful tales and innumerable stories to be heard in this world. So whether I'm on the other side of the world, or just bumming around at home, I want to hear those stories and worship the God who caused them all.

jmb.