Clearbrook MB Church
2719 Clearbrook Rd V2T 2Y9 Abbotsford, BC, Canada

The Flow of His Will There are various ways to get to Richmond BC. You could fly to Vancouver YVR or navigate the least congested highway, or even better, take the commuter train. But, the surest route is also the oldest. If you float down the Fraser River, you will be deposited at Richmond. The Fraser begins its 1,400 km trek in north eastern BC and rambles through mountains and farmland to arrive at the ocean. It may not be the fastest means, but as I say, it is the most re...liable. Planes get delayed and roads can be parking lots. But the Fraser has never been cancelled and flows no matter what. If for assurance, you chose the watery route, you will have to accept a measure of variance. The currents are not predicable. There can be headwinds or sandy shoals. It will probably take longer than you wish. But if you have the patience, the Fraser will get you to your destination - every time. And in that sense, it reflects the will of God. Our lives are complicated. We have so many options and too many paths. How can we be assured that we will reach the destination God has for us? The wisdom of Proverbs reminds us to trust God. Submit to Him and He will make our paths straight. (Prov.3:5,6) In other words, God will get us to the right place as we lean into His will. I do not need to know the path. I need to know the Lord. My paths will then be straight. A straight path is not always an easy one. It may not be the fastest, nor the one preferred by people around us. But it is our path, made clear to us by the grace and will of God. That’s why it is like the Fraser. A river has banks - boundaries on the left and right hand. Between these borders, I have plenty of freedom. I can make decisions. I may paddle hard or let the current carry me. I might stop for a light lunch or pause for days of respite. There are choices, but all my choices are confined by the river. There will be shifting circumstances on the river. Sunbeams, showers and snow. The fellowship of other travellers or the silence of being alone. I may feel confounded by the river. What’s around the bend of the river? How long will this take? But regardless of conditions or confusion, the river will take me to my destination. It never fails. These thoughts were planted by the shifting details of our pandemic. Every day something changes. Plans are made and then canceled. Questions are asked without clear answers. We struggle with what we can do or should do. We guess at, How long? What will be? And God whispers, Lean not on your own understanding. Trust Me. Out of the much I don’t know, but want to, this is clear. Let the current of God’s will carry us. Float with faith. He will get us where we are to go. Every time. All of us. All the way to heaven.

Of Butterflies and Gentleness The presence of God can be flash and crash - thunder and lightning. It is fireworks on Mt Sinai. It is the holy smoke of glorious fire. It is the power to bend trembling knees into worship. Unveiled, it is death for mortals to see. The presence of God is all of this, and more. Even though His presence can be overwhelming, this is often the presence we expect. Obvious. Undeniable. Unmistakeable. But this is not the presence we experience. More tha...n likely, God’s presence with us is less like a bang and more like a butterfly. I recall taking the kids into a butterfly pavilion. It was humid, tropical and filled with fluttering wings. They skirted around us, flitting from flower to flower. The kids bounced up and down and waved their arms as landing strips. They giggled and called, but no butterfly came. So they were shocked to see a monarch land on my shoulder. I made no sound. I held very still. My slightest breath might blow him away. He graced me with a visit for few moments and then flew off. The kids were a bit annoyed. Why would dad get the butterfly and not them? They had yet to learn that if you want to host a butterfly, then stillness, silence and gentleness are of greater effect than calling and agitating. All children of God learn the same. God is all around us. He fills the air. God is within us. He fills our lives. Yet, oft times we are unaware. So we wave our arms and call. We expect our whirlwind of activity and volume of voice will summon Him. But God need not be summed. He is already present, but the flapping of our soul blinds us. There is another way - the way of gentleness. Gentle is the heart of Jesus, who calls us to learn of Him. Gentle is the Voice of God whispering to a frightened prophet. Gentle is the King, riding on a donkey towards the cross. Gentle are the people of God, bearing one another’s weakness. Gentle is the subdued strength of soul which invites the wounded to come for help and healing. Gentleness is the ignored fruit of the Spirit. Perhaps it is time to re-visit this gift of the Spirit and become gentle men and gentle women in this world of bluster, flurry and noise. Gentleness is good for our world, but it does more for my own soul. Gentleness is the pathway of perception of God’s nearness. I can release my demands and gently receive His grace for this present moment. I can halt the criticism of my own berating voice and be gentle with my spirit. Like a becalmed vessel, I can be at peace with stillness and catch the breeze of the Spirit. I recognize how hard that is. I realize we try to conjure God’s nearness by our efforts. But butterflies land on the gentle ones, who watch and wait. Come Lord Jesus, Come.

Eternal Scars This past Easter weekend, the New York Times published an opinion column by Peter Wehner. I have never heard of the author and usually don’t look to the Times for devotional input - but God’s Voice is heard from surprising sources. The article was entitled, Why is Jesus still Wounded after the Resurrection? It’s a good question. The resurrection of Jesus was not simply a replacement of the life He lost. It was a translation of His Spirit and Body into a glor...ified state. It seemed as if He had super powers! Jesus appeared in a room without using the door. He could mask His identity and vanish in a moment. He could float on the wind and rise before befuddled believers. Since we understand resurrection as a divine improvement of what was - we assume it to be perfection. And perfection it is; but perfection with scars. The glorified Body of Jesus still had the wounds of crucifixion. Jesus invited Thomas to touch the gash left by nails. Thomas didn’t put his hand on the slash of a Roman spear - but he could have. Jesus carried in His Body the imprint of suffering and death. And He still does. In the Apocalypse, John sees Jesus standing by the Father’s throne, As a Lamb having been slain. (Rev.5:6) Jesus carries His wounds even still. Why? Is it simply memory? Are the souvenirs of death meant as a reminder of what Jesus went through for us? I am sure they are, but I am also sure that they are more. Wehner interviewed scholars, theologians and pastors to answer the titled question. The diversity of their answers coalesced into a single theme. The scars of Jesus are empathy. They speak not only of what happened to Him, but of what happens to us. Everyone is wounded in this life. It’s meaningless to try and compare scars. Pain is pain and no one is immune. To every broken heart, mind, body and spirit, the marks of His suffering announce that He understands ours. The grief of our life finds a place in the heart of our Lord. Our wounds are met by His. The fact that they are eternal, declares that His compassion never fails. In the new heaven and earth, death will be absent. Cruelty, hostility and violence will not enter. Sorrow, grief and regret will be unknown. After a time, even the memory of pain will fade as an echo of what used to be. But look at Jesus. On His head, the punctures of a thorny crown. On His back, the tracks of a lash. His hands and feet bear the print of nails. His side is marred by a gouge. The evidence of His abuse is unmistakable. They are not for pity, nor for remembrance of something long past. They are an eternal pronouncement of God’s grace. His heart is touched by ours. His mercy floods our misery. Even when there is no more pain - the proof of His tender love continues for ever.

Drama of Easter You probably remember where you were on Nov. 22, 1963. The date may not jog your memory, but the event will. That was the day of the President Kennedy assassination. Many of you recall where you were and what you were doing when you heard the tragic news. I read in a news clipping of a unique occurrence that day. In Texas, a high school play was on stage. For added realism to the scene, a young actor held a transistor radio that was turned on. Suddenly the mus...ic was interrupted with a news bulletin that the president had been shot. The report froze the actors in their tracks and the play tumbled through confusion to a sudden halt. The smaller story on stage had been interrupted by a larger event outside their script. Their pretend reality was invaded by a larger reality. I can’t think of a better description of Easter than that. We aren’t high school drama students, but many of us live by the roles we play. We know our lines and stand on our marks. We hope for more comedy than tragedy in our lives. But, we can’t guarantee a happily ever after ending. Since this is our life story and we are central to it, we begin to think that it is all important - perhaps all there is. Our stage becomes centre stage. We struggle to realize that there is a larger story happening. Easter is the entrance of God’s story upon ours. The Author of Life, who is often hidden behind the curtain, steps upon this world’s stage and surrenders to the darkness of death. There is confusion, pain and disillusionment upon all who witness it. Just when you think that the story is done, the curtain parts into brilliant light. The story is not over! There is more to come and it will have no ending. Happily ever after is true! Easter reminds me that God is writing a story larger than my own. Easter is God’s grace to harmonize my broken story into His grander eternal theme. He takes the scribbling of my own script and edits it with love and wisdom. He teaches me to see the bigger drama and to follow the direction of Jesus. When I stop insisting that He follow my script and I allow Him to take centre stage, it’s not just that my life goes better. I become reconciled into an eternal drama filled with glory. It is grace and mercy that God steps into our world. Left to myself, my own story would end in death - final and complete. But the Author of creation is writing a story of life - glorious, unending and yours - if you want it.

Atgyweirio ar gyfer fy enaid Miriam and I were enjoying our dream trip, driving counterclockwise across the United Kingdom. Graced with plenty of time and sufficient cash, we felt the bright enthusiasm of explorers navigating from castle to cathedral. Kent, Coxwold, York, Edinburgh and Oban, were all in our rear view mirror when we turned south to Wales. It was a challenge to follow signage as we targeted Llandudno on the Welsh coast. The Welsh language has an abundance of ...consonants in exotic combinations. (As evidenced by the title above!) I was squinting at a jumble of highway letters when it happened. In a blink, my driver’s window exploded. I had a lap covered in glass and the wind sucking papers into roadside litter. I pulled over and checked for damage to ourselves and the car. Besides the window, everything else was fine. But clearly the car needed repair. At a nearly deserted petrol station on a fully deserted side road, I tried to interpret the Welsh phone book for glass repair. The directory was indecipherable and the locals were of little help. I guessed that whatever shop I could find, the fix would cost dearly. Ultimately we stuck to the side roads and found our guest house on the coast. As I continued my quest for repair, the guest house owner jolted me with a question. If this is a rental, why not call the rental company? The question hit me like an exploded window! Of course! The company will take care of this. I called and within the hour, I had a new car and the damaged vehicle was taken away. What a relief! You may smile at my slowness to reach the obvious answer. I defend my dullness with a default principle. If I break it, I should fix it. My instinctive reaction was to assume responsibility and take ownership of the problem. Regardless that the car wasn’t mine and that I had insurance for such events, I knee jerked with a sense of personal liability and obligation. It was the wrong answer rooted in an admirable value. And lest you giggle too loudly at my misplaced duty, I remind you that we do the same with our souls. There is much repair needed in our spiritual lives. We crack, break and sometimes implode. Regardless of the cause, we instinctively believe that it is our job to clean up the broken shards and make it whole. By countless efforts we hunt for answers that are within our resources. People applaud our sense of accountability and we feel balanced by matching our efforts to our injury, but it is not ours to do. We lack the ability and authority. We are God’s by purchase and and He alone has the power of restoration. I do not say that we are passive. Submitting and trusting God is no small task. But to grip the work of God in our own hands, is a weight beyond us. Call on God and taste the tenderness of His grace. What a relief!

Heart and Song My wife and I decided we wanted another heartbeat in the house. Age, energy and strata rules narrowed our choices, so we decided on a bird. Not just any feathered friend. We wanted a song bird. We had a canary years ago and welcomed the soft tuneful sounds. So we scoured the stores and came home with a a bright red canary we dubbed Chip. We had assurance that Chip would sing, but the guarantee came with a two week limit. We filled those 14 days with tutorials.... We played music from Mozart to Beachboys. He preferred neither. We surrounded him with Youtube mentors - to no avail. It turns out that Chip had a heart but no song. We cashed in our warranty and came home with another prospect we named Chuck. Chuck is a yellow feathered diva who floods the house with tunes. We can’t shut him up! From the first glimmer of sun to the setting of the same - Chuck sings. We clocked him at 90 minutes straight without taking a breath. He not only has a heart - but an unstoppable carol. You may question my reference to Chuck’s noise as a carol, but that’s how I hear it. His notes are more than instinct or a call for a friend. It is praise - the melody of creation at full volume. Chuck is simply doing what God made canaries to do. I may be irked by him fulfilling his purpose at the crack of dawn, but praise is always timely and ought to be incessant. Jesus said that stones would become a choir where human voices failed. (Lu.19:40) So when Chuck sings with enthusiasm, I hear the tune of God’s handiwork echoing to His praise. So it’s a lesson for me. Chip and Chuck are both canaries with melodious ability. Both have a heart, but only one has a song. We are granted the grace of life in Jesus. God has transplanted hearts of stone with a heart that lives. And our new heart holds a new song. It is an ovation of praise shaped by our words, actions, attitudes and harmonies. Our accolades are to be from the rising of the sun to the setting of the same! (Ps.113:3) But, I can be Chip-like. I have a heart but my music is mute. My heart song is stifled too easily. Too many rainy days in a row. Too many months of isolation. Too many challenges to confront and too much languor of spirit. I can list the weights which press me, but the lightness and flight of praise is still called for and worthy of our Lord. Chuck is confined in a cage all by himself. He eats seeds for supper. He faces the winter gloom out his window. He has no great purpose to fulfill - except to sing. So he sings. And God smiles.

Wilderness Grace Preachers should choose their sermons carefully. The words have a way of becoming real. Since God knows that you don’t learn to ride a bicycle in theory, He has a habit of putting preachers into the content of their messages. I confess that I am not always sure whether the sermon is the cause or the fruit of my personal state. I do know this. The truth spoken comes out of the truth being lived. I begin today a series of sermons on wilderness. It is both what ...I say and where I am. I know I am not alone. Wilderness can be a place - a desert, jungle or tundra. But for most of us, it is more likely to be a state of mind, heart or spirit. You experience a wilderness state when you feel lost, don’t know what to do or where to turn. When you are depleted of personal resources, you taste the wasteland. When silence and isolation smother all other sound, you are standing in the soul’s hinterland. Nothing I’ve described sounds pleasant, so we attempt to avoid the wilderness. Just stay out of it! It can’t be done. We assume wilderness is the consequence of our failures or mistakes and therefore avoidable. While we may stumble into wilderness, that is not the whole answer. Barren land is a tool of God and seems to be one of His favourites. Wilderness is not our path because we are lost. It’s where we are led. Wilderness is the space between Egypt and Promised Land. Israel walked through the desert to reach milk and honey. The forty years were not mandatory, but the path through was. For Abraham, Moriah was the place of sacrifice and testing. For Moses, badland was the grooming ground where God stripped him of his past and shaped him for the future. The back country of isolation provided preparation for the public ministry of both John the Baptist and Jesus. Clearly, the wilderness is not incidental for saints. And it can’t be rushed. Those who walk in the wilderness want to hurry through it. Struggle and disorientation feed our desire to escape. But if wilderness is where God has us, He has us there for a reason. Regardless of the cause, purpose is always in God’s Hands. So we become pilgrims of hard places. Pilgrims of dry ground require patience. They must resist the urge to turn around and head for what’s familiar. Egypt is not a substitute for home. Pilgrim’s faith grip says there is no such thing as a God forsaken place. Even if He be just a glimmer of light or whiff of smoke - He is there. Pilgrims understand wilderness grace. The grace of manna’s provision or shelter found in the cleft of a Rock. The grace of endurance and daily strength. Most of all, pilgrims know it’s not for them to find their way out of wilderness. We are sought and found by the grace of rescue.

Heart Cry Back in 2017, my wife and I spent the year apart. I was helping a church in Regina and Miriam’s family obligations held her here. So, we took a deep breath, trusted God’s leading and agreed to a commuting arrangement where I was home 3 days each month. I spent the rest of my time 1,700 km away. The year felt long, but God was kind to us in both provinces. It was the first time in my living that I was away from loved ones for an extended season. It became my laborato...ry of what loneliness is and does. Here’s what I found. Loneliness is not simply the state of being alone. It is a sense of missing - a state of longing for who or what you do not have. At first, it’s an itch - bothersome but tolerable. It can grow into an ache - a displacement that feels like the weight of being lost. Beyond recognizing the feelings of loneliness, I’ve gleaned helps to address it. I learned that there are no substitutes that satisfy. No one and no thing can take the place of what you are missing. I found that distractions are no remedy. Keeping busy or occupied may help in the moment, but they do not relieve. I also discovered that solitary is not terminal. Loneliness may be uncomfortable but it is not crippling. In fact there is wisdom and goodness in it. I am struck by the number of times God walks His saints through lonely territory. For Moses, there was a 40 year gap between his Egyptian upbringing and a return home as Israel’s leader. Joseph must have cried out repeatedly from his dungeon for home and family faces. David was chased from his familiar by the anger of Saul. Jesus spent at least 40 days alone and tasted the depth of isolation through Gethsemane and Calvary. If God nudges us into lonely spaces -there must be a reason. What good can loneliness do for us? Loneliness squeezes our deep desires to the surface. All of life’s lint gets brushed away in loneliness. You will know what matters after a season of it. That applies to our spiritual path as well. We walk this earth with perpetual longing. Read Psalm 63 and hear the cry of a soul who misses the Beloved. God is never absent, but He remains just beyond our grasp. He is always one step in front of us, calling, inviting. The space between creates desire, having but wanting more - a state of spiritual longing. It is not a fault, but a state to endure. So we should remember how to respond to it. There are no substitutes. No one or no thing can replace Him. Distractions are no answer. Entertainment, work, leisure, parties, not even Church can fill the void. Spiritual loneliness is not to be solved, but has to be experienced. It pulls us in His direction. And while it may feel uncomfortable, it is not terminal. The hungers of heart lead us to life.

Christmas Deconstructed Twenty years ago, Miriam and I were gifted with a trip to Israel. It was and is memorable for me. Bustling markets with haggling merchants. The whiplash of driving from the high-rises of Tel Aviv to camels and bedouins in the desert. Bobbing by moonlight in the Dead Sea. Ascending Masada. It’s a journey you may have made and one I wish everyone could. As you would expect, the pinnacle places of our trip were those that felt the footprints of Jesus. Na...zareth where He took His first steps. The tranquil Jordan where He was baptized. The Sea of Galilee upon which He walked. Jerusalem with the Via Dolorosa. A Garden Tomb, much like the one He exited with triumphant strides. The trip occurred a few weeks before Christmas. Quite naturally Bethlehem was on my mind as well as our itinerary. We bussed from Jerusalem to the Church of the Nativity first thing in the morning. We were cautioned by our tour guide that there was a disturbance the night before. The Church parking lot was strewn with rocks used as projectiles. It meant that our exploration of Bethlehem would be confined and brief. But nothing would spoil our anticipation. The Church is a collection of chapels designated and maintained by various expressions of Christianity. It all hovers above the Grotto, the traditional spot of Jesus’ birth. You descend a series of narrow stone stairways, navigate through dimly lit halls and jostle with monks and tourists. On the ground, in a small alcove with a silver star embedded in the floor, lies the place where a manger once was. The crowd was large, so our time was short. After a Carol, we retraced the maze back to our bus and I tried to unpack my feelings during the drive. It felt like it was all too much. Complexity constructed upon simplicity. The convoluted, even confusing structure. The elaborate customs of song, prayer and incense. The walls wrapped with ornamental layers meant to enhance, but appearing like clutter. The spot itself was plain. Everything added to it, seemed like exaggerated efforts to make it special. I wished it was different and I felt convicted. What I saw in the church is what I see all around me. We take the modesty of the Nativity and tried to enlarge it with our efforts. We have traditions, pageants, customs, expectations, obligations and expenses. We have constructed so much, as essential for the season, it’s hard to see what it’s all about. I applaud the intent to glorify God’s grace and gift. But often our celebrations convey our own reflections. The Grotto is not special because of the Church. It’s the other way around. Is there a way to deconstruct what we’ve made? God may be doing that for us this year. This year, your Christmas may be simpler. There may be less. Fewer guests. Smaller events. Shorter trips. A leaner party. But God does not take. He gives. If the embellished Church was not there, the Grotto remains. Jesus has come. That is enough. Receive it.

Bumping Into Christmas I’ve done this 65 times, so you’d think I would be proficient by now. For 65 years I have celebrated the Christmas season. Granted, the first few times, I was pretty much unaware. But it didn’t take me long to figure out that this season is special. There were dazzling lights and festive songs, stories and secrets, gifts and goosebumps. A tree was planted in our living room! So early in my toddling years, I discovered the wonder of Christmas. Every Chri...stmas has carried the wonder of Jesus, but it hasn’t always been easy. In fact, some years are a struggle. My challenge is simply this. Sometimes I find Christmas. Sometimes Christmas has to find me. Often I am looking for Christmas. I am sparked by the calendar and prompted with the coming of Advent. I have the usual routine of putting up lights and creating a gift list. But since I shepherd a flock, there’s congregational preaching and programming to set in place and I’ve done it for 45 years. The narrative of Christmas doesn’t change, so I ask myself, How many fresh ways can I squeeze this story? That’s why I chase Christmas. I pursue the qualities of the season, the fruit of Yuletide. Looking for joy. Hunting for hope. Pursuing peace. Reaching for the nearness of Emmanuel. Of course those are worthy pursuits anytime, but Christmas presents a unique challenge because, What is Christmas without them? But these gifts can be elusive. If I am the only pastor you’ve heard say this, let me whisper a truth. The season doesn’t always sync with my soul. Joy to the World is not always sung from a happy heart. The prayer for peace on earth, can be uttered from a troubled spirit. So I chase Christmas. Like Magi on a quest, I look for Jesus. In mercy, God is gracious to my probing. In ways that I can’t predict, by stars set by Him, Christmas is found. That’s the way of the Magi. But there is another path. The way of the shepherds. In my nightfall, when I am too befuddled or fatigued to explore the riches of the Nativity, God extends His Hand. In a song, a memory, a Scripture or kindness from both family and friend, God shows up. He arrives even when I am not looking. If I am not mistaken, this year, especially this year, we need God to come to us. We can’t perform the rituals of our normal Christmas customs. The traditions we employ to find joy of the season are removed from us. We wonder how Christmas will be. Can it be Christmas?. But the Bethlehem story is clear. God reaches to earth. He came to find us. He comes to find us. Today, more than others, that is our prayer. Let Christmas come. Whether He is found by our hungry spirits or we are lifted to His heart of mercy; joy, peace, love and grace - these are ours. Because every year, every day, in every way, Christmas comes. Christ comes.