When God said stay.

Amsterdam has never been on my list of cities to see. It was always one of those, well if I'm there I guess, but wasn't on my wish list. I don't know why, it just really wasn't. So when it ended up being the place we would leave for Scotland from, I thought of it as that. A city to maybe see a bit of while we were there. One day. And then we would catch a boat and head to Scotland. This was the plan. A far as I was concerned it was a good plan. Evidently God thought otherwise. Due to a series of unfortunate events, our boat to Scotland was a day later than we thought. So, we had an extra day in Amsterdam. So, then it became a matter of trying to figure out why. What exactly God wanted us to experience that we would have otherwise skipped.

So we went to the museums (more on that in a later post). And I went to the Anne Frank house. The house she and her family hid in during the Second World War. I remember studying her diary in the 5th grade. But standing where she stood, smelling the rooms she hid in, hearing the church bells ring that she would have heard, all while hiding because of her religion.

It was all so powerful, I'm not sure I can find the words. It certainly brought that diary to life. It gave the war a human side I'd never experienced that powerfully before. The very air of that place changed from when you stepped inside to when you stepped out. Walking through that space had me praying with my whole being. Without knowing how, without any words. It is a series of moments I will carry with me forever. Stepping out into the sunshine, I could only imagine the longing to be able to do that. The desperate desire to feel the sun on your face again. To be able to breath fresh air. It was an occasion to ponder all the ways humanity has managed to hurt one another throughout the years. I kept recalling Jesus saying we should love one another. Giving wholeheartedly of ourselves. How are we as a church doing that now? Who are we failing? How can we do better? How can I personally do better? These questions and more stuck with me through the rest of the day and on our track to our next hotel. It was in a small town near where we would catch the boat. Walking around the small town that evening and the next day allowed me to feel like I had actually seen the Netherlands, gotten a much better feel for the land.

It is amazing all I would have missed, everything I would have passed by. I am infinitely glad God said "stay"

Midnight Voyage

As I'm writing this, I'm sitting outside on the deck of our overnight ferry from Amsterdam to Newcastle. It is very very windy. But stunning. The views are amazing. Although I'm not sure how long I'll be able to type while outside as it really is very windy, and the wind is chilly. But it's nice to get some silence and solitude. It's almost 10:30 local time and much of the ship has gone to bed, or at least moved inside so I'm alone on this deck. Pretty impressive considering the size of the ship.

I'm a prairie girl. Always have been. Give me some open fields, throw some mountains in the background, and I'm a happy camper! But even I had to admit, something about being on the open water takes my breath away. I'm waiting with bated breath for the stars to come out. And anticipating an evening of watching them appear one by one, and then being rocked to sleep by the waves. God's creation really is amazing. Days like today remind me of just how large our world is, how varied the landscape, and how blessed we all are that God made all this. Tonight is a break from the deep thoughts, the questions and the wondering. Tonight is a night to put aside the questions of the church and the future. Tonight is a night to give thanks. Tonight is a night to praise God. Tonight is a night of awe and beauty. Tonight is Sabbath.

Where a child shall lead them

When John and I set out on our little pilgrimage to Wittenberg, we decided to stop in Berlin for the better part of the day on our way back. And we made a deal. Since Wittenberg is where I wanted to go, and pretty much all of the sights had been chosen by me, he could plan the Berlin part of the trip. He had already been for the weekend with his mom, but this time would just be the two of us. I said I wanted to see the wall, but when and how that happened was up to him. And anything else - his choice. I couldn't have made a better deal if I tried! He was a wonderful tour guide. He knew the train stations and the subway in the city. I saw a Berlin I would never have seen of it wasn't for John. To start off we went to the technology museum. Certainly not something that would have ever made my list. But it made his. And we had a blast. We learned a lot, spent a ton of time in the history of the sea and the sky, so boats and planes (he is a nine year old boy after all). And we talked about inventors and their inventions. What drives people to try new things. To risk a lot. To dream bigger, to imagine what and where we can go next, and then to try to make it happen.

After the museum we went on a bus tour of the city. One of those ones were you can sit on the upper deck. It was a great way to see Berlin. We passed a lot of the sights, had the chance to learn as we did so, and got to relax a bit! It was fabulous. Finished off the day at the Brandenburger Gate and the Memorial to the Murdered Jews. And just when I thought he couldn't teach me much more, he reminded me that after being in that space, even for a couple of minutes, your soul needs ice cream, and an impromptu game of tag and chase the pigeons. It was restorative.

I learned a lot on Friday, from God, tour guides, and brochures. But mostly I learned from John. He reminded me of the importance of balance. Do some very touristy things, and also see the local favourite field trip location. Use public transit. Do some activities simply for fun, and some where you're learning and experiencing the history. He reminded me, that even as I'm studying the history and feeling a city, it's important to see where a city is going and not just its past. He reminded me to have fun and laugh. That its okay to not be serious all the time. That ice cream really does make you feel better. And all this had me thinking about how Jesus came as a baby. He entered the world as a child. He saw the world as a child. And then he told us to do the same. But do we? As a church do we listen to our kids? Are we paying any attention to them and what they really think! How they really see the world? What are they trying to teach us, that we are completely missing, because we are sure as adults we should be leading the way. It wasn't Berlin as I would have chosen to see it. Thank God. Wg

Walking in the footsteps of Giants.

Thursday John and I boarded a train and headed for Wittenberg. For those of you who are church enthusiasts like myself, know this to be one of the main places of the reformation. It is the home of Martin Luther. This is where he lived and preached, and eventually nailed his 95 thesis to the door.

It is a town with rich history said by many to be the birthplace of the reformation, where the first protestant service was held. As John and I strolled the cobble stone streets, I couldn't help but be amazed at the thought that Luther had walked these same streets. Had looked at the same canals. Had heard the same church bells ringing.

John and I went by the City church, saw the door where Luther had nailed his thesis to the door. And we went to the church where he preached. Listened to the organ he would have heard. And as we sat in those church pews I couldn't help but be amazed by how much changed because a few people said, "I don't think this is how the church is supposed to be. I don't think this is what Jesus had intended." And 500 years later, we still know his name. We worship as we do, we each have our own bibles, we all sing hymns together, ministers can be married, all because of people like Luther. We are where we are because of the giants of our faith. People who would never consider themselves as such. But who asked the big questions. I've always though of Luther's thesis as statements, and in some ways they were, but they were also questions. The questions no one wanted to ask. No one had answers for.

Today we have our own questions. The questions we are only beginning to find the courage to ask. And it has me humbled. And has me wondering, who will emerge asking the big questions next? Who will we still be talking about 500 years from now? Do we have the courage to hear what they are saying? Are we ready to listen? I wrote about change a little while ago. It feels like it is coming. Are we ready? Will we listen to the voices speaking? Walking in the footsteps of giants. Where will they lead next?

Building Castles Out of Sand

Wednesday I had planned to head to Wittenberg with John. But I was too tired after getting in at 6:30 Wednesday morning, instead of 7:30pm Tuesday evening. So after some sleep, John and I headed for the beach. The beach is along the Elbe river, a tidal river in Hamburg, which is used for a great deal of port traffic. Once we arrived, John and I got down to the business of building sand castles. This is serious business when you're a nine year old boy. And build we did. One that was washed away almost immediately by the waves caused by a tanker. So we moved further up shore. And built two more. This was great, until the tide got higher, then a cargo ship passed, and no more castles.

So we moved again. Still further up-shore and built one more. It was still there when we headed home. All this sand castle building made me think of a scripture passage (a common occurrence in my line of work). The one where Jesus is talking about building houses on sand. And how it is a really really bad idea. What have we been building on sand? Which parts of our current faith practices are getting washed in the waves? Are we desperately trying to save them? Rebuilding as fast as we can, instead of picking up and moving up the beach, or even onto higher ground, with sturdier material? Have we forsaken the tougher sturdier material, for a better view? Because it is easier to build closer to the water, the sand is already wet, and the view of the river is certainly better. Are there parts of our church that we need to have washed away in the water? Parts that simply don't belong anymore, or never really did? What do we need to reclaim? What about your personal faith? Which parts are built on rock and can withstand anything, and which parts might be hit by a wave at any given moment? I don't know where all these thoughts are pointing yet, but I do know as I continue to find sand in my socks, shoes, pockets, hair, water bottle, etc, etc ,etc. I will continue to wonder.

Delays delays delays...

Germany is famous for its punctuality. Particularly their trains. If it is late, it's maybe 5 or ten minutes. And their trains had never been down, at least not it the last 30 years. Until Tuesday. Tuesday I arrived on a flight from Seattle 15 minutes late. Not bad right? Then I got my train ticket and waited for my train. When it was supposed to arrive in 5 minutes, the train station closed. The whole thing. They evacuated the station due to trouble with the roof. Well, I think that's why, they evacuated in German.

And then proceeded to, with a great deal of difficulty, redirect us to the main station in Frankfurt. This took me 4 hours as there was no trains going anywhere. None. The entire ICE train system was shut down for over 4 hours. No one went anywhere. Trains stopped in the middle of nowhere. People everywhere were freaking out. And the main train station was getting really really busy. And still no trains were going to the airport. It was, as you might expect, a very big mess. People were tired, and stressed, and frustrated. I, myself, spent 7 hours in train stations, rather than the 20 minutes had my plane and train been on time. And the trains that did eventually run were all going slower. So my 4 hour trip, took closer to 5. Why am I telling you all this you might ask. Well as it was happening I was trying to figure out what I'd say about it. What God was saying to me in the midst of the craziness. And several thoughts occurred to me. I considered writing about God's sense of humour, and how it so often not our sense of humour. The day before I left I preached a sermon including the idea of letting go of schedules. I thought about writing about those times you just want to yell at God. When frustration gets the best of you, and you're sure God is punishing you for something, anything, because this darn trip will never end and you'll never make it where you're going and no one can tell you why the last four trains you tried to take never arrived. Anywhere. They just vanished. But in the end, my trip to Hamburg ended up being about the little things. Getting to sit beside the person from Hamburg on the plane, because he made the connection because the flight was delayed. Meeting gracious information booth people, who after being yelled at by at least 6 people in a row, still greeted you with a smile to help you figure out a different train, that might, you know, maybe eventually come. To making the final stretch of your trip with an expat and a native German, who shared their favourite parts of German. To the night ride on a train. Still, quiet, and peaceful, when the rest of the world is asleep. That morning as I went for a walk, watched the sun come up, and tried to process any thought (I'd been up for almost 40 hours at this point). I couldn't help but think of all I'd have missed if everything had worked as it should. Including all of how I spent the next day. And these are certainly memories of my trip I will treasure. I already knew I had a lot to learn about how and where God will speak, a reminder always seems to come at the most startling moments.

Bye Bye Baby

I'm sitting here in the airport waiting for my plane to arrive so I can depart for my spiritual pilgrimage. And yes I am ridiculously excited, there's a part of me that is sad to be leaving. It has me thinking about the cost of discipleship. Sometimes following where God calls is easy. But I've found that more often than not, it isn't. There's alway something else. Something you're leaving behind. Something you're giving up. Something. Family, friends, a career, a home, something. When Jesus called the disciples, they left behind their nets, their very way of life. It couldn't have been easy. So often we talk about following Christ as life changing and wonderful. And a lot of the time it is. But sometimes it's filled with hard decisions, with hope and doubt. With joy and sadness. What has brought all this on you might ask, as I prepare for the trip of a lifetime? The answer is simple. Banner. My brand new nephew. Hard to leave that little face behind. I mean isn't he cute?

But listening for God's call often means letting go of the very things we would prefer to hold tightest to. So I bid goodbye to Banner, and Canada, and say, mostly wholeheartedly, "Okay God, what's next?"