Situation

So Sunday School class has been exploring what it means to be a godly man..... and there's nothing like a real-life, baffling, painful, unwanted, unanticipated, and "I can't believe this is happening" situation to give legs to it.

A summary of the class so far:

• Life is not always predictable. Often it is messy and chaotic, and when it is, life’s overriding question for most men is, “What should I do?”
• A man tends to operate in the realm where he can answer that question, where his own skills and abilities are useful, but where courage to live in an unpredictable world is not required.
• But always knowing what to do goes against man’s God-given nature and calling.
• God calls a man to speak into darkness, to remember who God is and what he has revealed about life – and with that, to move into his relationships and responsibilities with the imaginative strength of Christ.
• God is telling a story, and as we see his story told through our lives, and realize we are part of that larger story, we find courage to handle the inevitable confusion of life.
• We are to move beyond the silence of Adam by abandoning ourselves to God with confidence in his goodness.
• With the freedom created by that confidence, we are to move into the uncertainties of this world with a life-giving word.
• Such movement may be accompanied by fear because we realize that there are not codes to follow. But the fear is healthy – bringing anticipation, resolve and God-given courage.
• As men move forward, they realize more deeply their need for God, and so seek him more earnestly. And when we seek him, we will find him. That’s the promise.
• Men who spend their lives finding God become elders / spiritual fathers / Christlike mentors: godly men who know what it means to trust when there is no plan to follow, when things are dark. They are men who bear God’s image, and speak into darkness after the fashion in which God speaks into darkness and chaos, bringing life and beauty.

Among the many Bible passages looked at in this class:

• The story of the Fall – when the first man, faced with temptation (and the chaos represented by the serpent) should have remembered and spoken out God’s intentions, but instead remained silent. Every man has been like this since.
• The word translated “male” in Genesis 1:27 is zakar from the Hebrew root “to remember” – man is supposed to be “the remembering one” who recalls and recounts the mighty acts and directives of God, and connects our experience to God’s story.
• There is a connection between deliberately forgetting the God of creation and the life of sin (The pattern of behaviour in the lives of each of the patriarchs in Genesis; 2 Peter 3:3,5).

Well, the class is going OK. But a very difficult situation (quite apart from the class) has developed that is just eating me up. My head is screaming out “What should I do?!?!” while my heart is trying to trust God. Something traumatic had to happen. All parties involved could see it. All parties understand it. Nevertheless, someone is hurt. Many more will be. There is no specific formula or code for how I should deal with it. But I must... Trust… Move… Speak… and live with the fallout.

Manliness

I'm facing a really big challenge these days that has me all stressed out! It's teaching a Sunday School course, "Godly Men, Godly Women." For me, this subject began as a sermon developed from a study of the Hebrew word for "male" (Genesis 1:27). It seems that God has a special calling and purpose for a man which is distinct from his calling and purpose for a woman. Both bear the image of God in specific ways. Not understanding or more precisely, not living in accord with this image is and continues to be the beginning of all sorts of problems for men and women. I am somewhat more than a little familiar with such problems because I am exactly that man who has not understood or lived out what God created me for. That I am now teaching about what I fall so short of, and of which I have only a budding understanding makes me really scared!

The subject matter is very interesting - at least to me it is. I'm getting an opportunity to discover together with others the journey towards being a godly man. We are asking questions like, "Where are we now?" "How do we move forward?" "What is the destination?" It will not be easy because I will need to be brutally honest about the man that I am, including undesirable patterns of thinking and behaviour, some of which are sinful. What has been amazing, however, is that, in his word, God does give a vision for what it is to be a godly man that is much deeper than most of us realize. It is not just living up to a standard or fulfilling a code, but includes coming to grips with why I so often fall short and what it looks like to keep moving nonetheless. There are other guys in the class who struggle as I do and it is wonderful to be in conversation with them as well as the women. May the Lord bless our study.

Another thing that is stressing me out is that I only have the first part of the course prepared - the part about men. At this stage, I have no idea what I can possibly say about women. And for some reason, I feel curiously unqualified to say anything about women. Hopefully the women in the class will help. I have asked my wife if she would get involved in teaching the second part of the course. Pray for us!

I haven't really said anything about the content of the course. Perhaps it's because I'm still early on in the journey. Maybe later on, if the course has a good response, I will consider saying more. All I know is that we are in dire need of men and women of God in our families and community. May God pour out his grace on us for this need.

Grandma

My maternal Grandma passed away last week. Grandma lived a long, full life. All her loved ones - children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren - remember her as a beautiful soul who inspired us and was an example of someone who loved the Lord.

My earliest recollections as a three or four year old at 10 Kennedy Terrace include Grandma and Grandpa. Every morning with the breakfast sunshine streaming into their suite, they would welcome their grandson as he came bouncing in. Grandma would put down her Bible, and take me in her lap as Grandpa filed and snapped the neck of a vial of sweet royal jelly. Grandma would stick the miniscule straw into the vial and give it to me to drink.

Then it would be question time. Grandma would patiently laugh and answer all the questions that filled the mind of a little boy. What's this? A letter-opener. How does it work? Like this. What's this? A paperweight. What does it do? It keeps these papers from being blown away by a breeze. Oh! It's pretty. Why are the windows in this room so tall? Why are there fish behind that glass? Are they your fish? Where do they come from, the sea? How do they eat? Do they bite you if you stick your hand in? Ah, conversation with Grandma! After the questions, I enjoyed watching Grandma practice Tai-Chi sword on the roof-top terrace.

When my own son remarked that Great-Grandma used to sit him in her lap and sing to him, my mind was suddenly overwhelmed with a similar remembrance. I'm told that due to all the time I spent with Grandma in those early years, I actually spoke Swatow, Grandma's old language! Apparently, at times I even told Cantonese speakers that they were mispronouncing their words, and repeated their phrases back to them in Swatow. To this day, I can fully understand anyone speaking in the Swatow dialect although, sadly, I am no longer able to speak it.

One incident etched in my memory was the removal of my first loose tooth. I showed Grandma my wiggly tooth, wherewith she took it upon herself to extract it. She tied one end of a length of thread to the tooth, and the other to a doorknob. She then slammed the door so that the thread tied to the doorknob would take out my tooth. The tooth didn't come out. Instead, Grandma got a screaming, crying, dancing grandson. But all of a sudden it didn't hurt. And as Grandma hugged and comforted me, I suddenly noticed, to my great amusement, that there was a little tooth hanging by a thread off a doorknob! Grandma laughed at it, too.

Years later, when Grandma and Grandpa lived with us for a while at Abbeywood Trail, I observed first-hand how old folks live. I saw how they loved each other and helped each other. Grandma continued to hold me in her heart. When I met with frustration or conflict she was often the first to put her hand to my cheek and wipe my tears. She still read the Bible every day. One day I walked in on her and asked her what she was doing. She told me that she prayed daily for each of her children and grandchildren.

I remember how little-girl sad she felt when Grandpa died. They got married in the days of arranged marriages, yet theirs was truly a marriage made in heaven. She was the epitome of commitment and perseverance - taking care of their children while her husband fulfilled his role as breadwinner. She was truly the noble woman and excellent wife spoken of in the Proverbs. Despite losing Grandpa 16 years ago, Grandma continued to live many years in the home they last shared, trusting in God who gives and who takes away.

I was not there for the final phase of Grandma's life, after she moved to Hong Kong and her memory faded. Stories from loved ones fill the gap. But Grandma had already left her indelible stamp on my life. I am glad she is with Jesus. Every time I hear words in her old language, I will think of her.

Healing

I am irreversibly middle-aged, and I can feel it in my body. There seems to be a steady encroachment of new aches and pains. Even more unsettling is that old pains are getting worse. I've been seen by physicians who've prescribed medications and given lifestyle advice. It helps but I'm not completely healed.

Something the guest preacher at my church said this past Sunday, however, gave me a very helpful new perspective on my understanding of health. Apparently, it has only been since the advent of Enlightenment thinking that the health sciences were expected to diagnose and treat, and so cure someone who is sick. The scientific cure focuses on the disease - the objective side of sickness. Historically however, doctors focused on illness - the subjective side of sickness. They used to care, doing whatever was needed to alleviate suffering, and sometimes cure if science and care happened to converge.

I guess I've been expecting the pain and inconvenience of my condition to be cured, or at least brought under perfect control. There are days when it is well controlled. The reality has been that, as time goes by, increasingly more has to be done to keep it under control. Suddenly, it has dawned on me that my condition may never be perfectly controlled. The aches and pains associated with it will always break through. What the care of doctors has done, however, is enough for me to live fully and function normally.

It helps me to think of Biblical perspectives of healing. There are perhaps three NT words for healing: one has to do with physical healing, a second has to do with restoration effected through the special relationship between healer and the healed (we get the English word therapy from this), and a third often used when Jesus healed others actually has to do with salvation. Apparently, when Jesus heals, it is always in a holistic context - the healing of the whole person, both physical and spiritual. In this light, although my physical health lags a little behind my complete spiritual healing by Jesus, the reality of my spiritual restoration points me forward to an eventual physical wholeness as well.

One more thought. I do not make the mistake of asking myself if I have enough faith for healing to take place. This would be to base my healing on my faith and not on God. My faith is not in a healing taking place but in God's faithfulness, goodness, power and mercy. I don't think that Jesus heals where there is faith, but that his healing provides a chance for my faith to be expressed as an indication of my desire to be healed. Jesus' healing power does not need the cooperation of my faith nor can it be manipulated through either my faith or the lack of it. Bottom line is, I put myself in his care and trust in his loving goodness. It doesn't matter what he will specifically do.

Letdown

To say that my daughter is dismayed and disappointed that the Raptors just lost their 1st round playoff series would be the understatement of the year!

Employment

Had the privilege of talking to a few college/university students and their parents. Their number one concern right now is getting through their exams. Yet I sense that a very close number two is getting a summer job. It's been many years since I was a student, but I get it. Sort of out on one's own and growing in independence, it is nice to have some money that is self-earned. That little extra cash brings a lot with it: a sense of movement into adulthood, freedom to spend a little to balance all the stress and responsibility of being a student, and a little less dependence on kindly parents.

Looking for that job is a stress all its own. I remember writing the resume, visiting the student employment centre every day, filling out endless application forms, going for interview after interview after interview. Some of the jobs I landed? A coder for a market research firm; an assembly line sorter for the Trivial Pursuit game cards; casual help at a couple of libraries. None of them were very glamourous or even related to my studies. Still, I was so grateful for having the odd summer job. The only thing I can credit myself for in the process was persevering in the job hunt.

If you are out there looking for a summer job, keep at it, even if it's tough slugging. God bless you with something that fits you.

Theodicy

Here I am early on Sunday morning. The sunrise is gorgeous. It is going to be a beautifully warm day. The birdsong is lovely, and the air smells of spring. Soon I'll be in church and singing along with people who love God. I think to myself, "This is the way it's supposed to be."

Yet thoughts of the events of the past week, especially the massacre at Virginia Tech, jars my reverie. Senseless, horrific violence, death and tragedy. "This is not the way it's supposed to be."

Confronted with pain, suffering, evil, I've often asked why. Usually, there is no answer. But I know that without faith in God who suffered and died on the cross for my sin, I would have no rationale for life either. The innate ability to say "This is the way it's supposed to be" or "This is not the way it's supposed to be" tells me that there is Someone out there who informs our sensibilities. Someone who is both good and powerful, and could have prevented the massacre but didn't, choosing instead to walk with us through our pain. Who can say what is good or evil among all the experiences of life? Only God. Who holds life and death in his hands? Only God. What can we grasp at when all else is incomprehensible? Only God.

It is senseless and painful. All 32 victims were lives created in the image of God - and hard as it is to say, so was the killer. I have to cling to God and realize that it is at such a time as this that a relationship with Jesus is vital. This is not a crutch. It is the only thing that anchors life. The only other thing I can do is pray for the hurting family members left behind. May God pour out his compassion on them, and draw around them the people and help they need.

In a prayer meeting yesterday, our senior pastor shared from Luke 13:1-9. In light of Virginia Tech, this passage is both appropriate and challenging. It tells us that there really is no explanation, but only the reality that their time had come just as it may come for each one of us with equal suddeness. The passage urgently tells us to turn from sin and trust in Jesus, and to get the message out to the people around us. With the heart-wrenching events of the past week, nothing could be more urgent.