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
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
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
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
Saturday, June 12, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Ask Why
Hello world,
Well, it's all coming to a close. I realize my writing here has been sporadic at best, but it hasn't been for lack of inspiration. No, I've been busy trying to make the most of my last month here in Philadelphia -- an ambition impeded by an ever-growing workload. But now even the work is winding down, so I figured I'd take some time to reflect.
Philadelphia, to me, is the noise. It's the traffic. It's the dirt and grime and sirens near and far. It's the smells. It's the music. It's the sights and the sightseeing. It's the poverty. It's the wealth. It's the crime. It's the news. It's the food. It's the snow. It's the heat. It's the shopping malls. It's the street vendors. It's the subway. It's the skyscrapers. It's the vacant lots. It's the service. It's the living. It's the learning. It's all of these things and more. But mostly, it's the stories.
So I'd like to share a few little lessons I've learned the past few months. They're important to me, so I hope you can gain something too. I'll share them over the next couple weeks, but tonight I want to focus on one that is foundational to all others, and certainly I hope to my entire life.
Lesson One: Ask Why
Anyone who has ever played a video game will probably be familiar with the EA Games slogan. It goes like this:
Multitude of voices droning in eerie unison: "EA Games"
Lone child's voice in a creepier whisper: "Challenge Everything"
Creepiness aside, I think the folks at EA Games are sending a powerful message. Though I would rephrase to: Ask Why. That's it. Plain and simple, but oh so complex and oh so difficult. It's a simple premise with life-changing application, but ... it's going to take a lot of work.
There is always a reason. There is always another story to explain another action, thought, or idea. So let's look for it. Why is there racism in the world? Why is there poverty hand-in-hand with wealth? Why do some people live abundantly? Why do some people live in constant suffering? Why can't people get along in politics?
These are tough questions, but there is always an answer. For some questions, God alone may hold the answers, but that is no reason not to ask. It's no reason not to look further for the truth and to see, as I've said before, the world through God's eyes. And that's what I feel we sometimes forget -- there is always more to see and learn, even with things we see as inexplicable. The issue of prejudice, for example, is so fascinating to me. I might look at someone who is racist with nothing but disbelief and disdain, but why are they that way?
Perhaps they were born in a homogeneous rural town in a community very antagonistic to those of other colors. The prejudice rubs off on impressionable young minds. And perhaps the townspeople themselves grew up in a similar environment, and their ancestors were slaveholders who would have hated slavery but depended on it completely for their survival in a competitive world and so demeaned their black workers and beat them into submission lest they ever think to rebel and overcome the system. These ancestors may have tried desperately to justify slaveholding, even using the Bible to hold their economic system intact. But the more they read the Bible to convince themselves, the more they felt uneasy. So they painted blacks as the enemy, a people to fear and revile and oppress, and taught such things to their children, whose children's children's children are with us today.
In case you got lost there, the point is that no sane person could ever choose to despise another race unless they were taught it was the right way. What if I was born then, not in a Canadian metropolis of the 21st Century but a southern American town in the 19th Century. Would I be any different?
And what about political divides? In my modest observations and highly caricatured interpretations, Liberals see Conservatives as tradition-bound buffoons with closed minds and obtuse noggins. Conservatives see Liberals as obstinate progressives who would see the very fabric of democracy unravel for the sake of "pleasing everybody." But what if John Stewart and Rush Limbaugh played golf and shared stories of growing up? What if Ann Coulter and Arianna Huffington (of the Huffington Post) went out for coffee and chatted about their childhoods and families. Could they ever see eye-to-eye? Maybe they would, if they only asked why.
No one is born a Democrat or a Republican, we choose a platform based on the world we know. No one is forced to become wealthy or to give all their money away. We do things based on what we know. So what is the solution to all this misunderstanding, and even more so to problems of disparity and economic oppression? To me, it is to learn more. It is to live. It is to see the world beyond your own eyes, to experience the world beyond yourself. And you don't have to travel the world to do this, you just have to ask why.
Well, it's all coming to a close. I realize my writing here has been sporadic at best, but it hasn't been for lack of inspiration. No, I've been busy trying to make the most of my last month here in Philadelphia -- an ambition impeded by an ever-growing workload. But now even the work is winding down, so I figured I'd take some time to reflect.
Philadelphia, to me, is the noise. It's the traffic. It's the dirt and grime and sirens near and far. It's the smells. It's the music. It's the sights and the sightseeing. It's the poverty. It's the wealth. It's the crime. It's the news. It's the food. It's the snow. It's the heat. It's the shopping malls. It's the street vendors. It's the subway. It's the skyscrapers. It's the vacant lots. It's the service. It's the living. It's the learning. It's all of these things and more. But mostly, it's the stories.
So I'd like to share a few little lessons I've learned the past few months. They're important to me, so I hope you can gain something too. I'll share them over the next couple weeks, but tonight I want to focus on one that is foundational to all others, and certainly I hope to my entire life.
Lesson One: Ask Why
Anyone who has ever played a video game will probably be familiar with the EA Games slogan. It goes like this:
Multitude of voices droning in eerie unison: "EA Games"
Lone child's voice in a creepier whisper: "Challenge Everything"
Creepiness aside, I think the folks at EA Games are sending a powerful message. Though I would rephrase to: Ask Why. That's it. Plain and simple, but oh so complex and oh so difficult. It's a simple premise with life-changing application, but ... it's going to take a lot of work.
There is always a reason. There is always another story to explain another action, thought, or idea. So let's look for it. Why is there racism in the world? Why is there poverty hand-in-hand with wealth? Why do some people live abundantly? Why do some people live in constant suffering? Why can't people get along in politics?
These are tough questions, but there is always an answer. For some questions, God alone may hold the answers, but that is no reason not to ask. It's no reason not to look further for the truth and to see, as I've said before, the world through God's eyes. And that's what I feel we sometimes forget -- there is always more to see and learn, even with things we see as inexplicable. The issue of prejudice, for example, is so fascinating to me. I might look at someone who is racist with nothing but disbelief and disdain, but why are they that way?
Perhaps they were born in a homogeneous rural town in a community very antagonistic to those of other colors. The prejudice rubs off on impressionable young minds. And perhaps the townspeople themselves grew up in a similar environment, and their ancestors were slaveholders who would have hated slavery but depended on it completely for their survival in a competitive world and so demeaned their black workers and beat them into submission lest they ever think to rebel and overcome the system. These ancestors may have tried desperately to justify slaveholding, even using the Bible to hold their economic system intact. But the more they read the Bible to convince themselves, the more they felt uneasy. So they painted blacks as the enemy, a people to fear and revile and oppress, and taught such things to their children, whose children's children's children are with us today.
In case you got lost there, the point is that no sane person could ever choose to despise another race unless they were taught it was the right way. What if I was born then, not in a Canadian metropolis of the 21st Century but a southern American town in the 19th Century. Would I be any different?
And what about political divides? In my modest observations and highly caricatured interpretations, Liberals see Conservatives as tradition-bound buffoons with closed minds and obtuse noggins. Conservatives see Liberals as obstinate progressives who would see the very fabric of democracy unravel for the sake of "pleasing everybody." But what if John Stewart and Rush Limbaugh played golf and shared stories of growing up? What if Ann Coulter and Arianna Huffington (of the Huffington Post) went out for coffee and chatted about their childhoods and families. Could they ever see eye-to-eye? Maybe they would, if they only asked why.
No one is born a Democrat or a Republican, we choose a platform based on the world we know. No one is forced to become wealthy or to give all their money away. We do things based on what we know. So what is the solution to all this misunderstanding, and even more so to problems of disparity and economic oppression? To me, it is to learn more. It is to live. It is to see the world beyond your own eyes, to experience the world beyond yourself. And you don't have to travel the world to do this, you just have to ask why.
Friday, April 9, 2010
All I'm Really Good For
This morning at LIFT Philadelphia I was working with a first-time client. We were doing the usual intake paperwork, going over her financial situation, family background and career goals. Somewhere along the way, I stopped to ask her, "If you could have any job right now, what would it be?"
"Oh, just some kind of cleaning," she replied sincerely. "That's really all I'm good for."
To me, that moment was a profound collision between my world and hers. For the briefest sliver of time, my sphere of privilege and opportunity clashed right up against a life with limits, realistic and inhibiting. For myself and fellow students, such questions of possibility are a part of daily thoughts: what do I want to be? what do I want to do? who do I want to become? We feel entitled to the world, which of course is ours for the taking. We are proud of our accomplishments, even though realistically we still haven't accomplished anything.
This mindset is by no means exclusive to this generation, and I don't even think it's a bad thing. There's no doubt that progress really only seems to be made by those who dream, who have the opportunity to seek more. But it's humbling to learn from those who seem to have stopped dreaming altogether -- those who see only as far as tomorrow while they try to make it through today.
Like this woman. We sat together at the same desk and shared an hour of each other's time. We are different in many visible ways -- age, race, gender -- and have done vastly different things during our lives thus far. But the most profound difference, the one that struck me this morning, is our ability to dream.
We both dream at night. But during the day, when the sun shines, when a child cries, when sadness reigns, when laughter overcomes, when sirens wail, when music soars, when solitude threatens, when company comforts, when loved ones pass, when new lives begin, when goodness overwhelms, when God is known, then what? What does she dream of -- for herself, for her children, for her community, for the world?
Or have the pressures of a difficult life robbed her of such vision?
I know my dreams. I know what it is to catch glimpses of God's glory that move me, to hear a song that stirs me, to see an image that captivates me, to read a book that shapes me. You probably do too. And I know what it is to dream in those moments.
But what do I dream of, how do I dream differently, for the sake of those who don't dream at all? For the sake of those who see little value in themselves, how do I see myself? How do you see yourself?
I don't know how to properly answer that question, except to remind myself and the world that there is a God who cares, a God who does more than dream, but a God who plans for all his children, from every tongue, tribe, and nation to bow before Him. For all all of them to live in perfect harmony and fulfillment for all eternity. There, with our divine purpose restored, we will no longer dream of something better, but live for something more.
It's easy, when exposed to such disparity and injustice, to become cynical and hopeless, never feeling like we are doing enough. But there is such solace in knowing that I serve a God who will one day completely restore this crazy planet -- in all its beauty and corruption, wealth and poverty, good and evil -- to something eternally perfect. But in the meantime we don't just twiddle our thumbs and wait for divine reparations to commence, we work out our salvation as Christ's hands and feet doing whatever he would have us do.
And because this is a debate that shouldn't be ignored, I am not making a call for "social justice." It's a call for Godly living, wherever that takes you -- to the pulpit, to the cubicle, or to the streets of Calcutta. And never lose the vision of something more.
Dream on,
jmb
"Oh, just some kind of cleaning," she replied sincerely. "That's really all I'm good for."
To me, that moment was a profound collision between my world and hers. For the briefest sliver of time, my sphere of privilege and opportunity clashed right up against a life with limits, realistic and inhibiting. For myself and fellow students, such questions of possibility are a part of daily thoughts: what do I want to be? what do I want to do? who do I want to become? We feel entitled to the world, which of course is ours for the taking. We are proud of our accomplishments, even though realistically we still haven't accomplished anything.
This mindset is by no means exclusive to this generation, and I don't even think it's a bad thing. There's no doubt that progress really only seems to be made by those who dream, who have the opportunity to seek more. But it's humbling to learn from those who seem to have stopped dreaming altogether -- those who see only as far as tomorrow while they try to make it through today.
Like this woman. We sat together at the same desk and shared an hour of each other's time. We are different in many visible ways -- age, race, gender -- and have done vastly different things during our lives thus far. But the most profound difference, the one that struck me this morning, is our ability to dream.
We both dream at night. But during the day, when the sun shines, when a child cries, when sadness reigns, when laughter overcomes, when sirens wail, when music soars, when solitude threatens, when company comforts, when loved ones pass, when new lives begin, when goodness overwhelms, when God is known, then what? What does she dream of -- for herself, for her children, for her community, for the world?
Or have the pressures of a difficult life robbed her of such vision?
I know my dreams. I know what it is to catch glimpses of God's glory that move me, to hear a song that stirs me, to see an image that captivates me, to read a book that shapes me. You probably do too. And I know what it is to dream in those moments.
But what do I dream of, how do I dream differently, for the sake of those who don't dream at all? For the sake of those who see little value in themselves, how do I see myself? How do you see yourself?
I don't know how to properly answer that question, except to remind myself and the world that there is a God who cares, a God who does more than dream, but a God who plans for all his children, from every tongue, tribe, and nation to bow before Him. For all all of them to live in perfect harmony and fulfillment for all eternity. There, with our divine purpose restored, we will no longer dream of something better, but live for something more.
It's easy, when exposed to such disparity and injustice, to become cynical and hopeless, never feeling like we are doing enough. But there is such solace in knowing that I serve a God who will one day completely restore this crazy planet -- in all its beauty and corruption, wealth and poverty, good and evil -- to something eternally perfect. But in the meantime we don't just twiddle our thumbs and wait for divine reparations to commence, we work out our salvation as Christ's hands and feet doing whatever he would have us do.
And because this is a debate that shouldn't be ignored, I am not making a call for "social justice." It's a call for Godly living, wherever that takes you -- to the pulpit, to the cubicle, or to the streets of Calcutta. And never lose the vision of something more.
Dream on,
jmb
Thursday, March 25, 2010
The Missionary Impulse
This article was sent my way a few weeks ago. It's a piece about Laura Silsby, who, in the aftermath of Haiti's devastating earthquakes, tried to take some impoverished kids out of Port-Au-Prince to safety in the Dominican Republic. Sounds pretty harmless, right? One might even say it was downright nice of her. Well, they would have said that, except that she and her group got arrested at the border for trying to smuggle these kids out of the country without permission. Guess they should have thought of that.
The story would have ended right there, had the media not found one additional fact -- Ms. Silsby is a Christian. Duh, duh, duh. Cue blinding spotlights and weeks of front-page drama. The ignorance! The hypocrisy!
The torrential judgment that ensued fueled the writing of this article in the NY Times. So I'd encourage you to read it. My initial response is down below.
Well, first off I don't think anyone can deny that this is a pretty shameless case against Christianity, or at least Christian missions. But in my opinion, it's completely unfair and unwarranted. At least Ms. Silsby was doing something, motivated out of genuine compassion and following a biblical mandate to care for the oppressed. And, lest we forget, she was taking these kids to an orphanage. Reading some of these articles, one might think she was trying to take them home as slaves. If she had succeeded in her ill-guided scheme, remember the outcome would have been 30 kids nestled safely in warmer beds than the streets of Port-Au-Prince provide. Now that's not so evil, is it?
It becomes so easy to bash international Christian aid and mission efforts that have gone awry, and at the same time forget all the good that has been done by those same programs. Sure, perhaps the history of Christian missions is tainted by a few exceptional instances, but for every tragedy associated with Christianity, there has been much more good. For example, religious people consistently give four times as much to charity than any other group. And we should thank God for that, because, as that article points out, liberal atheists statistically don't give much to those in need.
I would argue that a few cases of ineffective (or even detrimental) Christian mission work does nothing to discredit two thousand years of caring for the poor and needy wherever they are -- the quiet servitude that will never make headlines. Of the hundreds of Christian volunteers who flooded into Haiti after the earthquake, 10 of them made some misguided attempts to help in the face of incredible suffering. The American media, in their incessant quest to find fault in "the righteous" blows the whole story into front-page material. In one of the greatest natural disasters in recent times, an unprecedented amount of relief work and aid flooded into a devastated nation with no strings attached. It's a story of unexplainable tragedy and compassion, yet the piece that snags the top spot is about one conservative Christian who made some mistakes.
So critical (presumably non-Christian) columnists point their fingers at one white American Christian woman who messed up, and, like in this article, inductively reason that Christian missions are a menace to society. The headlines also tell us that Tiger Woods is Buddhist. Hence, all Buddhists are selfish and sex-obsessed. Stalin was an atheist. So were the Columbine shooters. Atheists have done some bad things. So watch out for Atheists. They're a dangerous bunch.
I guess that's a little extreme, but I think it's also extreme to so vehemently antagonize this woman. I mean, nothing even happened. She got stopped, the kids were returned. End of story. Truth be told, the story isn't about kids being taken from Haiti. The story is about a Christian who isn't perfect.
I also think it would be a good idea for this evidently concerned columnist to perhaps redirect his energies to something more pressing. Say, the fact that hundreds of helpless Haitian kids are being trafficked out of Haiti as we speak. Turn the spotlight off a well-intentioned mishap before we completely miss the real tragedy.
Peace and love,
jmb
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
O Canada!
I realize I'm a little late, but there's something I've been dying to say:
GO CANADA GO!
For any Canadian who lives somewhere outside Canada, these past Olympics were something extra special. After years of enduring mindless misconceptions and pleading with peers for recognition, the world has turned its heavy gaze on my home and native land. It's so thrilling that people finally care.
Yes, it's a bit bothersome that their focus is narrow and brief, but to witness the impression that Vancouver 2010 has placed on American hearts is touching. Equally touching was their disbelief that there could be less snow in Vancouver than in Philadelphia. Imagine that...
Yes, there is a country up there, and no, it's not exactly the same as America.
No, I don't live anywhere near Vancouver, but I agree with you -- it's beautiful.
The tune of O Canada is stuck in your head? Pretty catchy, EH? Let me teach you the words!
Yeah, we have a pretty good sense of humour. And fashion. Check out those scarves.
Wait, Michael J. Fox is Canadian!? Why, yes he is. And guess who else?
Oh and did you notice we're the best hockey players in the world?
I'm so proud to be Canadian. And from this side of North America, I can firmly attest that everyone was impressed by these games. I heard a few people, so moved by the friendly faces and beautiful landscape of these Vancouver games, exclaim, "I'm moving to Canada!"
So there you have it. The world may sometimes forget us in the political shadow of our giant neighbour, but there is nothing but love for the True North, strong and free!
My name is Josh. And I Am Canadian.
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