Bedford United Church

What's Happening

nospam@example.com (Bedford United) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 16:10:00 -0400

JUNE / JULY NEWSLETTER
Sun June 20 Holy Communion at Bedford
10:00 am “Ministry of Loaves” - we take loaves of bread into the neighbourhood - please donate a loaf
11:00 - 11:40 meeting of Pastoral Care Team

Sat June 26 Taize worship at St Paul’s United Church
5:00 pm an hour of meditative worship with music

Sun June 27 Volunteer Appreciation Day at Bedford
10:00 am Fellowship following service

Wed July 7 Sandwich Seniors’ Picnic - $5.00
11:00 - 3:00 at STAG - corner of King and Prince

Fri July 30 Fundraising BBQ for After School Program
11:00 - 3:00 at Sandwich IDA

Expect to worship at Bedford in July and August - if we organize a joint worship service at a different location, we will let you know!

Sun Aug 29 Bedford’s annual M&S picnic & pool party

Staying Connected

nospam@example.com (Bedford United) — Fri, 05 Jun 2009 12:14:00 -0400

Let's get connected! If you know someone in the congregation who is ill, or grieving, or who is celebrating (special anniversary, birthday, something unique) please let us know. Contact Donna Dupuis or Elaine Peterson, both listed in the Church Directory, and they will send a card. Please remember these people in your prayers.

Chateau Park Bertha Lynd
Devonshire Residence Jack Braendle
Extendicare Southwood Lakes Ruth Coombs
Huron Terrace Al Turton
I.L. Peretz House Hilda Parker
Kensington Court Madeline Halliday, Irene Hind
Malden Park Eugene Barris
Oak Park LaSalle Betty Klyberg
Riverside Place Helen Stevenson
Royal Marquis Residence Larry & Betty Young
Versa Care Windsor Place Carolyn Burden, Margaret Jarvis

In Golf, Par is Good; in Church, PAR is Good Too!

nospam@example.com (Bedford United) — Sat, 25 Oct 2008 15:33:00 -0400

Consider PAR. These are pre-authorized remittances that can be easily and quickly set up. Church contributions should be an item on your budget and can be automated like most of our recurring bills are already. Summer attendance was down, and so were donations, which are vital to our continued sustainability. PAR keeps your givings on a regular basis, regardless of your schedule.

Talk to Melinda Munro or Flora to get on PAR.

Abide in Me

nospam@example.com (Bedford United) — Sun, 01 Jul 2007 11:00:00 -0400

Scripture readings: Luke 17:20-21, Matthew 28:20, Acts 17:24-28, 1 Corinthians 6:19
Sources: Lectures on Celtic Christianity, Philip Newell, Five Oaks, March 2004
"How the Irish Saved Civilization" by Thomas Cahill, article in March 2007 issue of Weavings "The Encompassing Embrace" by Marilyn Chandler McEntyre

There are no snakes in Ireland. So I've been told. Legend has it that, early on in the 5th Century, a zealous missionary named Patrick cast all the snakes out of Ireland. But I suspect that there are no snakes in Ireland for the same reason there are no kangaroos in Canada:
Islands have a funny way of prohibiting migration.

I begin today by sharing a few insights from a particular brand of Christianity developed by the Celts. Celtic Christianity flourished from the third to the 12th centuries in what we now know as Ireland and the British Isles.

The Celts are my ancestors - as they are the ancestors of many of you. If they had had their way, and had not been overpowered by the Church of the Roman Empire, Celtic Christianity would have become embraced by tradition, and Christianity would look very different than it does today.

Whereas the Romans tended to be pessimistic about the world, and had negative views of the human body, the Celts celebrated creation. The Celtic cross, you will notice, is intersected by a circle. This circle, or orb, represents the sun . The Celts saw God everywhere in every living thing. The universe itself was described as the "great Sacrament." God dwelled within creation; within every flower, every ray of sun and every drop of rain. All the world was holy,
and so was the human body.

The Celts belived that the very image of God was woven into the fabric of our being. The wisdom of God is within us, and the beauty of God is deeper within us than the ugliness of everything we've done. All of creation is teeming with life - God's life. All creation is holy,
and you and I are a vital holy part of that vital holy world.

Not that we have no guilt. Not that we have no sin. But deeper than the presence of our guilt and our sin, is the indwelling presence of God. Indeed, God dwells more deeply within us, casting a Light around us, and within us.

This is the essence of the scripture readings this morning - blessed affirmations of the indwelling presence of God. God is indeed in our midst. When preaching in Athens, Paul said, "The God who made the world and everything in it.... does not live in shrines made by human hands... From one ancestor he made all nations to inhabit the whole earth... so that they would search for God and perhaps grope for him and find him - though indeed he is not far from each one of us. For in Him we live and move and have our being."

We live in God, says Paul to the Athenians, and to the Christians in Corinth, he says, in effect, God lives in us! This question he poses to the Christians in Corinth, is the same question he would pose to you today: "Do you not know that you are God's temple, and that God's Spirit dwells in you?" Indeed, says Jesus to the disciples - "The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, 'Here it is' or "there it is". For, in fact, the kingdom of God is within you. "

Summer is a good time, I think, for pondering the presence of God. Perhaps because life slows down, even if just a little, and we tend to be more in sync with the movement of creation. There are few things that alert me more to the presence of God, than a day at the beach. When I'm lying on that sand, the sun warming my face, my ears attuned to the rhythm of the waves, I feel that all is right with the world. God is here; I am with God, and God is at one with creation.

We have been told in no uncertain terms, By Paul and by Christ - that God is consistently dwelling in our midst. Then why, are there times when that is so difficult to believe?

I remember a woman of great faith telling me that after she lost her husband, she was struck, very strongly, by a sense of the presence of God. But years later, after she suffered a life-threatening car accident, and was recovering in hospital, she could not sense the presence of God - not at all.

What is the logic in that? Who knows ? Life is mystery. There are times in our lives when we feel very distanced from God. These may be times of great change, or great grief. This feeling, despite what anyone may tell you, is normal. While painful, and even terrifying,
it is a significant part of our spiritual journey. These times in our lives are often referred to as
"the long dark night of our soul." They are difficult times, they are heart-wrenching times -
we grope for God, and we cannot find Her; we seek the face of Christ, and we cannot see Him - not anywhere.

It is terribley difficult but, it is a normal part of the Christian journey. And it's not our fault.
In those times when we can no longer pray, we ask others to pray for us. We are strengthened by the knowledge that, even if at this moment, we cannot believe, others are sure that they do.

St Paul said that, on those days when we cannot pray, the "Spirit intercedes for us, with sighs that are too deep for words." So even if we cannot discern the Spirit's presence
in our midst, the Spirit is there. God is always closer to us than we even dare to imagine,
even in the worst of times.

St Patrick took great consolation by his faith in an immediate God. For Patrick, and other Celtic saints, Jesus was a divine universal presence, thriving in the midst of creation,
celebrating in the midst of ordinary life. There is a poem, presumabley written by St Patrick,
known as "St Patrick's breastplate." It is a wonderful affirmation of the immediacy of God:
"Christ be with me,
Christ within me,
Christ behind me,
Christ before me,
Christ beside me,
Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ in quiet,
Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger."

"Christ within me" - never is this more true than on the days we celebrate Holy Communion.
We are infused with the Spirit of God in a very palpable way. But even on other days,
on "ordinary" Sundays like today, and every single day of the week, we are reminded of the Gift we have been given. Having received the Word of God and worshiped with one another
in the Spirit of Christ, each one of us becomes no less than a Bearer of Christ. Marilyn McIntyre puts it very well: "As a Christ bearer, I carry a communicable agent of healing and life. I am a bearer of life-giving power, sometimes quite in spite of myself. I may be a ramshackle and ill-tended dwelling, but I am also empowered as a member of Christ's body
to be a site and agent of grace."

So let us go forth this morning, in the knowledge that God's kingdom dwells within us, that we bear the light of Christ , and that , together, we can be an agent of grace for the world. In the words of Mary, who carried the seed of the Saviour within her, "Nothing is impossible with God."

New Clothes for New Life

nospam@example.com (Bedford United) — Sun, 10 Jun 2007 11:00:00 -0400

Colossians 1:15-20, 3:1-17

The other day I was meeting a friend downtown. I saw her from a distance, and waved. She gazed in my direction but failed to wave back. Eventually I was close enough so that she could see my face. Her eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh Hi!" she exclaimed. I didn't recognize you. You weren't wearing black!"

It was at that precise moment I had a revelation. I do have a penchant for black, but it appears that the penchant has become an obsession. In my defense, I will praise the virtues of black: It doesn't show the stains, doesn't betray the fact that you have a cat (as long as your cat is named Blacky), it's very dramatic, and it matches everything!

My mother has been on a campaign for years to dress me in brighter colours. She gave up nagging me in my 20's; but now, when she seems me in something brighter, she beams,
and she compliments me to the tee.

After my friend's very innocent but devestating observation, I pledged to run out and buy something colourful. I did . It was a skirt - white background with a floral design in brilliant shades of turquoise and lime green. I feel like a million dollars in it - even if it was a bargain at $11.99.

Our clothes say a lot about us. Some of us have a love affair with clothes; others couldn't give a darn. Our pre-occupation with fashion can become problematic. But that's another sermon entirely.

Today's focus is about a different kind of wardrobe - the clothing of the Christian life. When Paul wrote to the Christians in Colossae, he drew beautiful images of new life in Christ. It always amazes me that Paul could write with such joy, even when he was in prison - which is where these letters were written.

Paul opens his letter with this glorious depiction of Christ - words, if translated into pictures,
could be painted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel - "Christ is the image of the invisible God -
the firstborn of creation, for in him, all things in heaven and earth were created... in him, all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell..."

Just in case they have forgotten, Paul is anxious to remind the Colossians that Christ is the center, not only of their faith, but of their lives. Christ, the offspring of our Creator, is the One who gives us life. He poured himself out on the cross, died, and was resurrected. As followers and siblings of Jesus, our identity is completeley wrapped up in his. Just as Christ died, so have we died; we die to our old selves in order to be re-born. This process of death and re-birth not only happens in our baptism, but on a daily basis, if we so allow it to happen.

In his letter to the Colossians, Paul calls his friends, to die to the old self - a self that is characterized by anger, wrath, malice, slander and abusive language, "Die to the old self " he insists, so that a new self may be born, a self that is clothed with compassion, kindness, humility, and patience.

I don't know about you, but I'm not too comfortable with this idea of change. I rather like myself the way I am. Black clothes and all. I'm pretty like-able. In fact, I'm very like-able.
And yet Paul insists that I die to my old self, shed my former clothes, and be re-born with this "new wardrobe" so to speak. What if I don't like this new wardrobe? What if it's all.......... pastels?

Do you remember back in the '70's, there was a book published, "I'm OK, you're OK." I was too young to read it when it came out, but it was a bestseller, and apparently, in the field of pop psychology a real ground-breaker. The author Thomas Harris had a background in transactional analysis. I'm not familiar with that kind of therapy, but the title of the book pretty much sums up the message: "We're all OK." This book plunged North America into a new age of self-understanding. Traditional Christian attitudes of self-denigration, self-denial were now under scrutiny. No longer were we "wretched souls." Instead, we were fine, exactly as we were. We were all "OK." Christian leaders were floored by Harris' observations. But I think Jesus would agree with Harris - up to a point.

"I am OK. I am a God-loved woman in a God loved world. You are OK. You are a God-loved woman, a God- loved man in a God- loved world." God loves us exactly as we are.
Absolutely. No doubt. That is the essential message of the gospel, with this sequiter:
"But too much to let us stay that way." "God loves us exactly as we are, but too much to let us stay that way." (I heard that quote about 10 years ago, and it's stayed with me ever since -
I'm sorry I don't know who to credit).

God calls us to shed the clothes of our former selves, and to don the clothes of Christ. God celebrates the person who is dedicated to his/her own self improvement. Not the type of self improvement heralded by the media - Not crash diets, plastic surgery, or financial success. But the improvement of the inner being. When we die to our old selves, and, admittedly, we have to do that over and over again - we rise again with Christ. We die to our pettiness, our resentment, our self-centredness. We shed these tired clothes, and don the clothes of compassion, kindness, humility and patience. For some of us, that's an entirely new wardrobe!

Take for instance, the clothing of patience. God knows how impatient I am. My daughter knows how impatient I am! Maybe more than God does! And yet God knows the potential that lies within me, to don the clothing of patience.. I imagine the clothing of patience to resemble a Victorian blouse. It's a difficult fit - this blouse of patience. It's characterized by a multitude of minute buttons. It requires - surprise, surprise - a ton of patience just to put it on! And I don't just don it once. No. It's not that easy. I have to don it daily, and every single time my patience is required.

That's the frustrating thing about this new wardrobe. It requires time, energy, and prayer
to clothe ourselves properly. But God supplies us with what we require to wear it all with grace.

Summer is a good time to take stock of our wardrobe. Which clothing needs to be tossed away? Resentment? The inability to forgive? Jealousy? Pride ? Self-centredness? As we take inventory, let us be mindful of a God who loves us exactly as we are - whether we are completey lacking in patience, or stock full of lingering resentment. Know that this same God
grants us the gift of Jesus, the One who deigns to clothe us anew and bring us the joy of New Life.

Growing the kingdom

nospam@example.com (Bedford United) — Sun, 03 Jun 2007 11:00:00 -0400

Once I was a gardener. Not for very long, and I was not a particularly good gardener. One summer I was paid minimum wage to work at an exclusive retirement home for ladies. I was paid to weed. I was paid to stay away from the roses, and to prune the tuberus begonias.

I will freely admit that I am not particularly fond of manual labour. But that summer I earned a great appreciation for all things green and growing - an appreciation which has never left me.
And every Spring, I am in awe of the multitude of gifts that the Creator is bringing to birth.

Today's scritpure readings bring to light various metaphors for the kingdom of God. Now , the word "kingdom," admittedly, is a sexist word. It implies that God is a "man." Instead of the kingdom of God, we could talk about the reign of God, the realm of God, the commonwealth of God, or even the "Queendom of God." But as someone who has an ongoing love affair with words, and poetry, I will forgo my feminist tendencies, if only for today, and stick to the word "Kingdom. "

Jesus loved to draw pictures of the kingdom. Matthew recorded 6 different metaphors for the kingdom in chapter 13 alone. Obviously Jesus thought it was an extremely important subject,
and offered up a variety of metaphors so that different people could relate.

My favourite image is the image of the mustard tree: "The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in the field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown, it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches."

The kingdom is something that begins with the smallest of things - a seed. It grows and becomes a living breathing thing, thriving, blossoming, providing shelter and sustenance
for the beloved creatures of God. The exciting thing about the kingdom is that even though
we must wait for it to come to its full fruition, we can catch glimpses of it - here and now.
"The kingdom of God is among you" said Jesus. This is good news - news that you and I must cherish, cling to, as we , in the church navigate challenging and sometimes difficult days.

But it was at our meeting at Conference last weekend, that I discerned, with some surprise, and a great deal of pleasure, that the kingdom of God is indeed, in our midst. I witnessed the court pledge $3 million dollars for the Mission and Service Fund in 2008. $3 million dollars to be raised from the folks of the United Church in southwestern Ontario for the church's mission in Canada and the world. You and I play a small but significant role in helping to reach that goal.

I heard from Chris Giffen and Jessie Negropontes - two young people in the United Church who feel passionately about their church and about our youth. They are touring Canada
to meet with the high school youth and young adults helping them share their dreams and visions, and enabling the youth to see that they too have a place in this United Church of ours. Chris and Jessie will be at GessTwood Camp next weekend.

But most importantly I witnessed hundreds of people give up 3 days of their busy schedules
to work from 9:00 am to 9:00 pm, not because they are masochistic, or enraptured with bureaucracy but because they love their church, they love Jesus. and they are committed to sharing his love.

This past weekend, as I ruminated on thoughts of the kingdom, it struck me that our vision of what the church should be has changed. And thank God it has! We often hearken back to the good old days of the 1950's when the pews were filled. And those were great times. And yet, in the 1950's, had I been ordained, I would not have been allowed to be married. Had I been married, I would not have been allowed to be ordained.

Membership in the United Church may be decreasing. Obviously, this is not a good thing,
But other great things are happening. People on the margins are seeking us out. Folks who never would have felt welcome 20 years ago now feel welcome in our pews - people of colour, people who are gay, people who are unsure of their faith, but want to feel part of a community.

And young people are learning about the United Church of Canada. The foks who coordinate the WonderCafe site are overwhelmed by the positive response. The number of hits per month have far exceeded their expectations. Now, they have been asked to design a website
in French.

Part of the church's new reality is that we are finding new ways to be church. Many congregations can no longer afford to pay a minister a full time salary. They're looking at new ways of doing ministry - one congregation hires out their minister on a part time basis, to another congregation. One congregation shares a youth minister with several other congregations. Yet another community of faith closes its doors, so that they can worship with another congregation in a building that has more parking and is fully accessible to folks with disabilities.

These shifts in the way we do ministry are not indications of failure; they are indications of the times, and our need to move in new directions. When old dreams do not come true, we dream new dreams, and envision the kingdom of God. Our problem often, as people of the church, is that we think we know what the signs of the kingdom should be. But too often, we are looking in the wrong direction.

Signs of the kingdom are not restricted to the church. We see signs of the kingdom in the most mundane of places, even in Charles Clark Square.

On Friday June first, at 9:30 am, that was where I found myself - in Charles Clark Square. Amidst the clamour of downtown traffic, garbage trucks, and Casino construction, there was a more welcoming sound. It was the sound of children, men and women, speaking English, French, languages of Asia, and of Africa. Slowly, the square began to fill up - children lined the steps, moms, dads, Ron Jones, Brian Masse, Melinda Munro, dignitaries , ordinary folks. Women, men and children of all different colours. In the centre of the square were two trees, two small fledgling trees, their branches too young to bear leaves.

I was there, with the Windsor Women's Interfaith Initiative - 6 of our group had gathered -
Jewish, Christian and Muslim women.

We were there – hundreds of us to celebrate Peace tree Day. Melinda will tell you that the idea for Peace Tree Day grew out of a story told by filmaker Mitra Sen. Three little girls – one Christian and two Muslim, were school friends. They could not understand why their parents would not allow them to celebrate one another's religious holidays. Eventually the little Christian girl and her mother went to the home of the Muslim family to celebrate the Muslem holy day Eid. And the Muslim families went to the Christian home to celebrate Christmas dinner.
When the little girls went out and bought a Christmas tree , however, the Muslim parents were upset. But what they discovered was that the decorations the girls had made for the tree were not unique to Christianity; they were religious and cultural symbols of peace that hailed from all over the world.

And so, Peace Tree Day was born.

On Friday, I watched hundreds of children, women and men, peoples of different colours,
tongues and traditions, come together to decorate a tree. They came with international symbols of peace, and strung them on the branches side by side.

And then it hit me - the mustard tree. A sign of God's kingdom - a living breathing entity ,
source of abundant life. And in the midst of the clamour of downtown Windsor, I discerned a sound - it was the song of birds, the birds described by Jesus thriving in the shelter of that tree. And there, right there in Charles Clark Square, grew a sign of the kingdom of God.

Thanks be to God!

Stepping Stones, Living Stones

nospam@example.com (Bedford United) — Sun, 20 May 2007 11:00:00 -0400

"Christ is the cornerstone.""You are the living stones.""Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.""They were enraged at Stephen... dragged him out of the city and began to stone him."

In your hand you hold a stone. What meaning does it hold for you? Is it something you want to hurl in another direction? Or something you cling to in hope? Is it the stone you are tempted to cast in blame? Or is it the Cornerstone - the stone that is Christ, Your Rock, your Strength?

Is it a living stone - the stone that you hope to become, so that in cooperation with those who surround you in the pews, you may build a spiritual house? Or is this the stone that was rolled away from your tomb?
The burden that prevented you from feeling truly alive? Is it your stepping stone? Do you long to be a living witness for Christ - a vehicle for others,
that they may know freedom, acceptance and peace?

I think about Stephen - the first Christian martyr who risked all for Jesus.
None of us here will ever have to worry that we will be condemned for sharing the good news. But even now, in a new millenium, hundreds of Christians living in dictatorships do risk their lives every year. Those who claim Christ, are sometimes imprisoned, and some die for refusing to cease their witness.

Today in your hand you hold a stone. Let me tell you a story - a true story,
about a congregation, who, in the midst of controversy, refused to cast stones. Instead, they answered their calling, to become stones -
stepping stones - providing the means for someone who was cast aside
to know acceptance, love and peace.

This congregation was a small congregation mostly comprised of seniors -
farmers, mothers of farmers, children of farmers. In this congregation
was a young man. I'll call him John. John was not a farmer. He was from town. Owing to a debilitating injury at work, John suffered chronic back pain. Not only did he have to battle with Workmen's Compensation to receive what was duly his, he had to live with constant pain. Many of you here know exactly what that's like.

Appointment after appointment with various doctors proved to be fruitless.
Medication was marginally effective but not without side effects. Despite his deep frustation, John experienced much joy - a wife Nancy, and his newborn son. They attended the church I have just described - a tiny group of people who made them feel truly welcome. John, Nancy and their son brought much energy to the congregation. And the fact that this young couple came quite a distance to come to church really impressed the congregation.

As the months went by, John knew no freedom from his pain. One day, he made a choice. You could argue it was the wrong choice. I would argue that his choice was understandable. He decided to grow marijuana.
A very small amount. Enough to fit in the corner of his balconey. He did not sell it. He smoked it in moderation. Because marijuana was the most effective way to alleviate his pain.

As many of you know, the Canadian govt now makes it legal for a select group of patients with chronic pain to smoke marijuana. This event occurred before that law came into effect.

One day the police came to John's door. It seemed that a neighbour had snitched on him. He was arrested, charged and imprisoned for the crime of growing and using illicit drugs. Shortly after his arrest, he was transferred to a prison near Toronto. Nancy was despondent. The man she loved, the father of her children was in prison - 400 kilometres away. Nancy lived in Lambton county. What was she going to do?

Her minister not knowing what had happened, yet realizing that she hadn't seen this family for several weeks gave Nancy a call. Nancy, always a forthright person told her minister the truth. She felt badly she hadn't been to church, and doubted she'd be there anytime soon. Things were too chaotic. Could the minister tell the congregation what was wrong? The minister was amazed - amazed that Nancy would trust the congregation, this senior congregation, with this information. The minister did as she was asked, and informed the congregation of the truth- that John had grown marijuana, had been arrested, and was now serving time in jail.

And what that congregation did astounded the minister. They wrote letters to Nancy - notes that were filled with words of love. They wrote letters to John in prison - letters of encouragement and support. Perhaps what he did was not very smart, they thought, but it was not a crime of violence, and certainly easily forgiven.

John and Nancy have never forgotten the kindness of that congregation.
When John was released from prison - early, due to excellent behaviour,
they returned to church. No one ever said a word about where he'd been.
They simply embraced him and welcomed him home.

That congregation did a beautiful thing. Instead of casting stones, they behaved as stepping stones. Enabling John and Nancy to navigate the treachourous river of their lives, they extended their hands. They escorted the couple over the river, welcomed them back into the congregation - the house of living stones. What this congregation did
came naturally to them. In their naivete, they didn't realize how radical
and truly Christ-like their actions were.

In your hand you hold a stone. What meaning does it have for you?
Take it home, and consider its significance. Treasure your place in this congregation as a living stone, building on the foundation of our cornerstone, building on the Rock that is Christ.

Thirsting and Hungering for God

nospam@example.com (Bedford United) — Sun, 06 May 2007 13:46:00 -0400

Quote: Henri J M Nouwen : The Return of the Prodigal Son

While I served in Labrador, I made regular visits to a very special place. It was a home for older adults with mental and physical disabilities. This was no institution; it really was a home, a large single floor house built to accommodate the needs of about 15 adults.

Every few months I would haul my keyboard over to Pine Lodge. We'd sing. They loved to sing. One of the top requests was Jesus Loves Me.
But their absolute favourite was "You are my Sunshine." So every visit, we wandered through an eclectic version of songs – sacred and secular,
and of course, we prayed.

They were a motely crue, some very quiet, others happily boisterous, some struggling with the reality of mental illness. There was Jerry who proposed marriage on a regular basis. Minnie, an Inuit woman, who had her own peculiar dialect of Inukitut. There was Nancy and George, recently wedded, still very much in love. And then there was Nathan.
Nathan was a joy. A man in his 70's perhaps with a mind whose gears shifted very slowly, and a heart which was enormously large. Nathan loved to help.

One time it occurred to me, that these folks might like to celebrate Holy Communion. So I asked them. "Holy communion?" Their eyes lit up. Literally. "Oh yes" they responded, with great joy. They were really excited, almost surprised. As if no one had ever offered it to them before.

So the next time, I came prepared to serve communion. Wine was out of the question, so we poured grape juice into individual glasses in the kitchen. We tore up the store-bought bread into little pieces and brought it into the living room. And Nathan as usual, was ready to help. I asked him if he would like to serve the bread, and he said that he definitely would.

I repeated the prayer of thanksgiving, and before I could even instruct him, Nathan pounced on that bread. And I mean pounced! But instead of passing the tray around, as he had offered to do, he popped that piece right into his mouth. Gentley, I reminded him that he was to pass the tray around. He did so, with great enthusiasm and so, everyone was fed.

I often think of Nathan. I reminisce about how he hungered for that bread.
Truly hungered. Perhaps it was just too close to lunch time. Or perhaps,
Nathan just hungered for the Body of his Lord.

The church reformer of the 16th century, Martin Luther, said to his students - "I wish I could get you to pray, the way my dog goes after a piece of meat!" Luther was talking about hungering - hungering for God.

We all hunger for God. We do. It's just that this hungering is confused with a hungering for other things. We hunger for material goods, for success, for admiration, for respect. We go after these things like a dog goes after a bone. But all these longings are really secondary. What we really hunger for is the deep deep love of God.

Be it conscious or unconscious, this is our primal longing. The psalmist said, "As the deer pants for the water, so I yearn for you O God." Fifteen hundred years later, St Augustine agreed: "Our hearts are restless til they rest in thee."

True, we are restless. I often quote Henri Nouwen, my favourite Christian writer of the 20th century. Reflecting on his own efforts to find God, Henri finally had a revelation. "For most of my life I have struggled to find God, to know God, to love God. Now I wonder whether I have sufficiently realized that during all this time God has been trying to find me, to know me, and to love me. The question is not "How am I to find God?" but rather "How am I to let myself be found by God?" The question is not,
"How am I to love God ?" but rather, "How am I to let myself be loved by God?" Henri hungered for God, forgetting that God was there all along, prepared to nourish him with the Living Water, the Living Bread.

Hungering. Thirsting. Just like the deer who pants for water, you and I thirst for God. What we don't realize is that the Fountain of Life flows in our midst. The water we crave surrounds us. As close as the Detroit river,
as convenient as the water that runs from our taps. Our Creator is so close to us, no one could be closer.

On days like today -Communion Sundays - I often think of Nathan. A man who not only hungered, he pounced! May you and I, like Nathan, experience the joy of hunger. May we feast upon the Living Bread, and know the deep deep love of God.

Clothed with Power from on High

nospam@example.com (Bedford United) — Sun, 15 Apr 2007 11:00:00 -0400

(text: Luke 24: 13-53)

Alleuia. He is Risen!(and the people respond) He is risen indeed!
Alleluia. He is Risen!(and the people respond ) He is risen indeed!

When you think about it, it's really quite amazing that one Jewish rabbi, an insignificant player in the giant drama of the Roman Empire, managed to change the course of history. The resurrection of Jesus, believed to be a bodily resurrection, spurred a handful of believers to spread the word, to convert dozens, then hundreds, then thousands to Christ. Within 3 centuries Christianity had become the official religion of the Roman Empire.

Fifteen hundred years later, Canada, a young and vital country would become predominantly Christian. Anyone over the age of 60 today will wax poetic about the heyday of the church in Canada - the post war success - the days when the church was packed. Today we are at a loss to understand why things have changed so drastically for the church. We tend to look backward - to the days of the early Christians and romanticize that nascent era.
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A Whole Lot of Nothing

nospam@example.com (Bedford United) — Wed, 11 Apr 2007 08:57:21 -0400

(source: Whole People of God Church Cirriculum 199?)

True story.
There was a young boy named Philip. Philip was born with Downs Syndrome. He was happy, but he knew he wasn't the same as other children. Philip went to Sunday School every week, and was in a class with 9 other 8 year old children. Sometimes people – adults and children -
are not very friendly with someone who is different from themselves.
That's how it was with Philip - The teacher carefully included Philip in all the activities, and the children tried, but Philip was not really a part of that group. Philip, of course, did not choose or want to be different; he just was.

At Easter, the teacher had a great idea for a lesson. The teacher had collected 12 of the plastic containers that pantyhose come in - the ones that look like big eggs. Each child was given one. It was a beautiful spring day, and the task was to go outside on the church grounds find a symbol for new life, put it into the plastic egg and bring it back to the classroom.
They would then open and share their new life symbols, one by one.
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Outrageous Acts

nospam@example.com (Bedford United) — Sun, 25 Mar 2007 13:46:00 -0400

Text: John 12:1-8.

True story. One day a young adult named Juan Mann, made his way to the Pit St Mall in Sydney Australia. He donned a sign. On this sign were the words "Free Hugs." Juan walked around the mall, with his sign, and for the first 15 minutes, folks avoided him like the plague.

Then, slowly, people began to approach- a child, an elderly woman, a teen. Folks pproached Juan, and grabbed him. No tentative hugs, these. No A Frame hugs. But enormous bear hugs.

Then, after a few hugs, Juan handed his sign to others, and watched as the hugs spread like wildfire, and people were truly engaged. Then , with his sign, Juan returned to the Pit St Mall. The next day, and the day after that, and the day after that.
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Finding our Way Home

nospam@example.com (Bedford United) — Sun, 18 Mar 2007 08:26:00 -0400

(Quoting James Carse - " Breakfast at the Victory: The Mysticism of Ordinary Experience" , and Henri Nouwen "Show Me The Way" )

James was six years old when he saw the geese flying overhead. He was standing with his mother on the shores of Lake Michigan on a raw November day. "They flew overhead – a perfect V -sailing southward into the limitless grey horizon.
"Where are they going ? " he asked.
"South" she said.
"Where's that?"
"Far, very far from here."
"How do they know how to find it?"
"They just know."
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The Twist in the Road

nospam@example.com (Bedford United) — Mon, 05 Mar 2007 14:36:23 -0500

The Twist in the Road (Book of Ruth)

You know when you're driving eastbound on Tecumseh, and just as you hit Crawford, Tecumseh does this major twist - it veers right, and then left, forming a warped letter "S". Just as you enter the second curve, there's a sign there – 20 k.

How many times have I driven that curve, and how many times have I forgotten to slow down.
I'm right in that curve, when suddenly I say, "@#*!!" Either that , or several metres down the road, I encounter the train. The train that crosses Tecumseh near Janette, is the longest slowest train that ever traversed southwestern Ontario. And the more rushed I feel, the slower and longer that train seems to get.

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Did You Pack Your Tambourine?

nospam@example.com (Bedford United) — Thu, 22 Feb 2007 15:36:07 -0500

Exodus 2:1-10, 14:19-31, 15:20-21
with thanks to "Kolel at the BJCC" and Christine Jarrett for her story on Bishop Tutu

Imagine that scientists had the ability to predict a tornado. Imagine that you were given notice - that within 15 minutes a tornado would hit your house, and that authorities were giving you 5 minutes to evacuate. What would you take? Your partner, your children. Your grandchildren. A pet? Jewellery? Family photos?

As I considered the story of the Exodus this week, I pondered that question many times. I would grab my daughter, and my cat. I would want to take Blythe's baby photos, They're all very organized, but where, I'm not sure. I would take my grandmother's engagement ring. But that's a no brainer, because I never take it off. What else?
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"Happy?"

nospam@example.com (Bedford United) — Sun, 08 Oct 2006 12:00:00 -0400

Proverbs 8:32-35, Psalm 119, Matthew 6:25-33, Philippians 4: selections
"Our Lady of the Lost and Found" Diane Schoemperlen. HarperCollins 2002

There is a question that burns within me as I surf the channels of the great wasteland of prime time TV. I am quite frankly, baffled. Baffled and bored. Enough with reality TV. Enough with the dance contests, the bug-eating contests, and the karaoke contests. Enough with the cameras – hidden and not so hidden - baring the ugly details of people's personal lives. And enough with the autopsies!

The question that burns within me is this: "Whatever happened to sit-coms?"

Doesn't anybody want to laugh anymore? I don't mean the kind of sitcom that is built on put-down humour. Where stupidity, in and of itself, is celebrated, and non-stop insults are meant to be a source of entertainment. I mean truly funny shows - with truly talented actors - like MASH, Seinfeld, and most of all, Frasier.

To my delight, I have been able to catch re-runs of Frasier, week days at 10:00 pm.

The other day, the episode opened with Frasier and Niles, perched at a table at their favourite hang-out, "Cafe Nervosa." This particular day, the two brothers appear to have time on their hands. They order their lattes, (decaf, low fat, all the foam, not a speck of cinnamon) then Niles poses a question to Frasier: "Are you happy?"

Frasier, who usually is never at a loss for words, is somewhat confounded. Over the course of the next half hour, he manages to dodge the question, is interrupted by the arrival of his father with whom he gets into an argument and is frustrated by a belligerent waitress who never seems to get his order right.

But later that day, even after Niles has left the cafe, Frasier is left to ponder the question. Something inside him clicks. He realizes that somehow, despite all of life's frustrations, he can presume to say, "I am happy."
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