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The Highest Form of Hope

... not just wishful thinking

 

Sasha and Noah

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storytellers and cops


During the past few weeks I have been teaching a Sunday School class on sexuality and sexual ethics. It's been interesting and challenging - trying to be relevant, relaxed and realistic about the topic and the discussions that arise from it...
Sometimes when you're in the middle of teaching - all of the sudden things make sense: literally, as the words are spilling out of your mouth. This happened to me last Sunday when I read out a quote from Lauren Winner's book Real Sex.

"Here the community is not so much a cop as storyteller, telling and retelling the foundational stories of the community itself... It is the community that ensures that ethics is not about dispensing cut and dried answers to moral questions, but that ethics is a story with meaning and power."

To put it into context, I was talking about how the church (the community in question) responds to sin. How does the church maintain a certain standard of ethics in step with the gospel without becoming a "cop"? At the same time, does a storyteller have authority?

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take a pause, have a rest

Last Saturday, my family and I went to the city for some family time. I woke up feeling a little bit queezy, but I was really ready to get out of the house so I got on with getting the kids ready for a day at the Forrestry Farm. As I stared at two monkeys fighting, I decided it was time for a trip to the doctor. Though I didn't relish the thought of waiting for an hour just to be told I had the flu, I felt fairly certain that I should check it out. It's a good thing I did - because I ended up having surgery the next day. I had a small hernia in my navel. A word to new moms out there - don't go all crazy with the housework or sit-ups or shovelling snow like I did. You could really hurt yourself because your abdominal lining isn't as strong as it used to be.

So now I am forced to pause... for six to eight weeks. I can't do things like vacuum or lift up my three-year-old - I'm not really allowed to pick up my baby for another few days. I know it may sound like a break, but it's really hard to rely on others for things that you're used to doing yourself. I guess it's a good lesson in humility.

I really want to thank everyone for the meals, phone calls, hospital visits, help around the house and taking care of my kids. Thank you Paul, for working the double shift lately. I'm really honored to be a part of such a great family and community where people genuinely care about each other.

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Sarah Smith


Last weekend I had the privilege of attending the Hepburn MB women's retreat. The theme was "Ordinary women; Extraordinary God". A lot of us are in the stage of life where changing diapers and doing laundry makes up most of our day to day. Sometimes we feel devalued (like in the Sheaf article), but our ordinary lives have eternal consequences. This made me think of a passage from C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce:

'Is it? . . . is it?' I whispered to my guide.
'Not at all,' said he. 'It's someone ye'll never have heard of. Her name on earth was Sarah Smith and she lived at Golders Green.'
'She seems to be . . . well, a person of particular importance?'
'Aye. She is one of the great ones. Ye have heard that fame in this country and fame on Earth are two quite different things.'
'And who are those gigantic people . . . look! They're like emeralds . . . who are dancing and throwing flowers before her?'
'Haven't ye read your Milton? A thousand liveried angels lackey her.'
'And who are all those young men and women on each side?'
'They are her sons and daughters.'
'She must have had a very large family, Sir.'
'Every young man or boy that met her became her son - even if it was only the boy that brought the meat to her back door. Every girl that met her was her daughter.'
'Isn't that a bit hard on their own parents?'
'No. There are those that steal other people's children. But her motherhood was of a different kind. Those on whom it fell went back to their natural parents loving them more. Few men looked on her without becoming, in a certain fashion, her lovers. But it was the kind of love that made them not less true, but truer, to their own wives.'
'And how . . . but hullo! What are all these animals? A cat - two cats - dozens of cats. And all those dogs . . . why, I can't count them. And the birds. And the horses.'
'They are her beasts.'
'Did she keep a sort of zoo? I mean, this is a bit too much.'
'Every beast and bird that came near her had its place in her love. In her they became themselves. And now the abundance of life she has in Christ from the Father flows over into them.'
I looked at my Teacher in amazement.
'Yes,' he said. 'It is like when you throw a stone into a pool, and the concentric waves spread out further and further. Who knows where it will end? Redeemed humanity is still young, it has hardly come to its full strength. But already there is joy enough in the little finger of a great saint such as yonder lady to waken all the dead things of the universe into life.'

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