The Sea Lion

This is a repost from my myspace blog, ages ago... Aug 12/05. Makes me cry every single time I read it. I know some who are trying to find their way out there, feel like they are lost, that people don't get them. Trying to hide their heart or harden it in order to protect it even more. Have faith, save hope.. continue on the journey however long and lonely it might be.
Jeremiah 29:11-14
11 For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. 14 I will be found by you," declares the LORD, "and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you," declares the LORD, "and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile."

A paraphrase of the Sea Lion story from John Eldredge's book, "The Journey of Desire"

Once upon a time there lived a sea lion who had lost the sea. He lived in a country known as the barren lands. High on a plateau, far from any coast, it was a place so dry and dusty that it could only be called a desert. A kind of coarse grass grew in patches here and there, and a few trees were scattered across the horizon. But mostly, it was dust. And somtimes wind, which together makes one very thirsty. Of course, it must seem strange to you that such a beautiful creature should wind up in a desert at all. He was, mind you, a sea lion. But things like this do happen.

How the sea lion came to the barren lands, no one could remember. It all seemed so very long ago. So long, in fact, it appeared as though he had always been there. Not that he belonged in such an arid place. How could that be? He was, after all, a sea lion. But as you know, once you have lived so long in a certain spot, no matter how odd, you come to think of it as home.

There was a time, many years back, when the sea lion knew he was lost. In those days, he would stop every traveler he met to see if he might help him find his way back to the sea. But no one seemed to know the way.

On he searched, but never finding. After years without success, the sea lion took refuge beneath a solitary tree beside a very small water hole. The tree provided refuge from the burning rays of the sun, which was very fierce in that place. And the water hole, though small and muddy, was wet, in its own way. Here he settled down and got on as best he could.

Had you journeyed in those days through the barren lands, you might have seen the sea lion for yourself. Quite often in the evening, he would go and sit upon his favorite rock, a very large boulder, which lifted him off the burning sand and allowed him a view of the entire country.

There he would remain for hours into the night, silhouetted against the sky. And on the best nights, when the wind shifted to the east, a faint smell of salt air would come to him on the breeze. Then he would close his eyes and imagine himself once more at the sea. When he lay himself down to sleep, he would dream of a vast, deep ocean. Twisting and turning, diving and twirling, he would swim and swim and swim. When he woke, he thought he heard the sound of the breakers.

The sea was calling to him.

The sea lion loved his rock, and he even loved waiting night after night for the sea breezes that might come. Especially he loved the dreams those memories would stir. But as you well know,even the best of dreams cannot go on, and in the morning when the sea lion woke, he was still in the barren lands. Somtimes he would close his eyes and try to fall back asleep. It never seemed to work, for the sun was always very bright.

Eventually, it became too much for him to bear. He began to visit his rock only on occasion. "I have too much to do," he told himself. "I cannot waste my time just idling about." He really did not have so much to do. The truth of it was, waking so far from home was such a disappointment, he did not want to have those wonderful dreams anymore. The day finally came when he stopped going to his rock altogether, and he no longer lifted his nose to the wind when the sea breezes blew.

The sea lion was not entirely alone in those parts. For it was here he met the tortoise. Now this tortoise was an ancient creature, so weathered by his life in the barren lands that at first, the sea lion mistook him for a rock. He told the tortoise of his plight, hoping that this wise one might be able to help him. "Perhaps," the tortoise mused, "this is the sea." His eyes appeared to be shut against the bright sun, but he was watching the sea lion very closely. The sea lion swept his flippers once against his side, gliding to the end of the water hole and back. "I don't know," he said. "It isn't very deep."

"Isnt it?"

"Somehow I thought the sea would be broader, deeper. At least, I hoped so."

"You must learn to be happy here," the tortoise told him one day. "For it is unlikely you shall ever find this sea of yours." Deep in his old and shriveled heart, the tortoise envied the sea lion and his sea.

"But I belong to the sea. We are made for each other."

"Perhaps. But you have been gone so long now, the sea has probably forgotten you."

This thought had never occurred to the sea lion. But it was true, he had been gone for a long, long time.

"If this is not my home, how can I ever feel at home here?" the sea lion asked.

"You will, in time." The tortoise appeared to be squinting, his eyes a thin slit. " I have seen the sea, and it is no better than what you have found here."

"You have seen the sea!"

"Yes. Come closer," whispered the tortoise, "and I will tell you a secret. I am not a tortoise. I am a sea turtle. But I left the sea of my own accord, many years ago, in search of better things. If you stay with me, I will tell you stories of my adventures."

The stories of the ancient tortoise were enchanting and soon cast their spell upon the sea lion. As weeks passed into months, his memory of the sea faded.

" The desert," whispered the tortoise, "is all that is, or was, or ever will be."

When the sun grew fierce and burned his skin, the sea lion would hide in the shade of the tree, listening to the tales woven by the tortoise. When the dry winds cracked his flippers and filled his eyes with dust, the sea lion would retreat to the water hole. And so the sea lion remained, living his days between the water hole and the tree. The sea no longer filled his dreams.

It was in May that the winds began to blow. The sea lion had grown used to the wind, and at first he did not pay much heed at all. Years of desert life had taught him to turn his back in the direction from which the wind came and cover his eyes with his flippers, so that the dust would not get in. Eventually the winds would always pass.

But not this time. Day and night it came, howling across the barren lands. There was nothing to stop its fury, nothing to even slow it down. For forty days and forty nights the wind blew. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. The sea lion lifted himself to have a look around. He could hardly believe his eyes.

Every single leaf had been stripped from his tree. The branches that remained, with only a twig or two upon them, looked like an old scarecrow. And I do not need to tell you that there was no longer any shade in which to hide. But worse than this, much worse indeed, was what the sea lion saw next. The water hole was completely dry.

Three weeks after the wind had ceased to blow, the sea lion had a dream. Now, as I told you before, there were other nights in which he had dreamed of the sea. But those were long ago and nearly forgotten. Even still, the ocean that filled his dreams this night was so beautiful and clear, so vast and deep, it was as if he were seeing it for the very first time. The sunlight glittered on its surface, and as he dived, the waters all around him shone like an emerald. If he swam quite deep, it turned to jade, cool and dark and mysterious. But he was never frightened, not at all. For I must tell you that in all his dreams of the sea, he had never before found himself in the company of other sea lions. This night there were many, round about him, diving and turning, spinning and twirling. They were playing.

Oh, how he hated to wake from that wonderful dream. The tears running down his face were the first wet thing he had felt in three weeks. But he did not pause even to wipe them away, he did not pause, in fact, for anything at all. He set his face to the east, and he began to walk as best a sea lion can.

"Where are you going?" asked the tortoise.

"I am going to find the sea."

What to get a designer for Christmas

We're creative.. we're consciese.. we think in pictures, in images and in fonts. We shake our head at the use of Comic Sans (or want to set things on fire), know that there is a difference between Arial and Helvetica.. don't like explaining CMYK vs RGB vs HEX vs Pantone (Spot) colours.. and always need inspiration.
So Merry Christmas (in a month and a bit).. and happy birthday Jesus.. is the reason.
Here you go.. go shop and have fun:

1) The I'll Use Arial when Helvetica Freezes Over wallet



2)How fun can tshirts be? Anatomy of the Letter A



3)I like stickers and all things British.. this is just plain fun



4)A Custom Hoodie - Rising Sun.. like the one I gave away in Newcastle..



5)Math + fonts = makes life easier



6) Helvetica coffee mug.. very funny



7) Nooka Zub Zot Watch.. yes its English, sort of

Seventh International Student Volunteer Movement for Foreign Missions - Kansas City Dec 31, 1913 - Jan 4 1914

With everything happening in IHOP and at SHOP and everywhere else.. when I stumbled upon this I got quite excited. I don't even know why.. but it was very cool! I was in Aqua books, hunting for old books of course, and then I saw one on the Kansas City/World-Wide Prayer Movement. One of the starting addresses is titled, "Intercessors-The Primary Need' by John R Mott (who won the the Nobel Peace Prize in 1946).
Anyways, the following is from there:

Nancy Drew becomes a Bone Specialist

I collect Nancy Drew books, amongst other things. As of late, this is the funniest I have read so far. I have two editions, the first from 1933, and then the re-release from 1989. Interesting to note, Nancy was added to and rewritten in the second editions. My edition that I have from Grosset & Dunlap Publishers take out Helen and put in Bess & George. So this passage looks completely different. In the revised one, George is the one who falls and injures her ankle, and Bess & Nancy leave her there!

Here is the 1933 version.

Password to Larkspur Lane - 1933
"She (Helen) side-stepped, then fell to the ground, her hands pressed to her mouth to throttle a scream of pain and terror.
"Helen what happened?" Nancy whispered excitedly, turning back to her chum.
... "I stepped into a hole, and I think—I think my ankle is sprained," Helen said, her face white.
Nancy's heart sank. If either of them should become helplessly injured, detection would certainly follow.
She knelt beside her companion, and with expert fingers felt the injured angle, wishing that Dr. Spires might be with them now. A decided lump appeared on Helen's instep, and the girl winced when Nancy touched it.
"Lie back and I'll take off your shoe and stocking," Nancy directed under her breath, striving to be as businesslike as the bone specialist. She quickly bared Helen's foot, and probed around the injury again.
"Nothing broken," she announced. "In my opinion it isn't even a sprain. Probably you danced so much last night that you stretched a ligament which has jumped out of place. I think I can fix it. It is going to hurt, Helen, but after the first jolt I am sure the pain will go."
Nancy took Helen's heel firmly in one hand and her toes in the other. Then she bent the girl's foot as if striving to make toes and heel touch. A moan escaped Helen's lips, and a pang of pity went through Nancy at the thought of the pain to which she was subjecting her friend. Resolutely, however, she continued with her operation.
The foot bent until the straining tendons showed under the delicate skin. Nancy suddenly wrenched the fore part abruptly to the left and right. With a tiny audible snap the misplaced tendon jumped into place, and the girl released her hold on Helen's foot.
"That—that feels better," Helen said, sitting up and rubbing her injured member. "I didn't know you had added doctoring to your other accomplishments, though. Is there anything you don't know something about, Nancy?"
"Why, this is simple first aid I learned at camp when I was a child," Nancy replied. "I had the same thing happen to me once, so I got a first-hand demonstration of the remedy. Try standing on the foot."
Helen did so, and reported that, expect for "a queer sort of rubbing feeling,"she experienced no bad sensation."

His Glory Appears

I wish I knew why songs made me cry. It's not because they are written by Brooke, or because they are in the key of D. But this one did. One of those songs where you first hear it, it hits you and stays with you. On this little night.. this one helps the most:



His Glory Appears

INTRO:
Bm, F#m
G, D

VERSE:
D Bm
You gave me hope
F#m
You made me whole
G D
At the cross
D Bm
You took my place
F#m
You showed me grace
G A D
At the cross where You died for me

CHORUS:
G D
And His glory appears
A Bm
Like the light from the sun
G D A
Age to age He shines
G D
Look to the skies
Em Bm
Hear the angels cry
A G
Singing Holy is the Lord

BRIDGE:
D, Em, Bm, G
(2X)

END:
D

A million miles in a thousand years

I had a very long and good day yesterday. I was with three friends and that time was very good together. I spent time reading a book, staring at the leaves of a tree overhead, on a couch in a very cozy room. We then all transferred to Sanctuary... kept reading.. just kept at it. Many thoughts.. must share.. pour them all out.
Book: A million Miles in a thousand years (by Donald Miller, yes the Blue Like Jazz guy)

He writes about risk.. he writes about bonding.. he writes about overcoming challenges.. that's what makes someone a conquorer.. a hero.. someone worth fighting for. But more than that.. the questions in my mind were, who have you risked your life with? who have you risked your life for? .. you bond when you risk your life together...

Immediately my Sanctuary (SHOP) gang popped into my head. Not that we were necessarily risking our lives in what the day to day physical world looked like. We were definitely giving our lives in the spiritual world.. and then yes perhaps the physical.. the hours, the words, the songs, the emotions.. pouring out really. Are we risking our lives? Perhaps a better question would be, would we be risking our spiritual life and livelihood.. if we didn't.

My good friend Janelle talked about righteousness that morning. A close favourite of mine, because of Righteous Radio. God is just, God is truth, God is righteousness.. holiness.. sanctification. God lived here on Earth with us. Jesus was fully man and fully God. What does that look like? What does a life of sanctification and prayer look like? A devoted life? A poured out life? Where do you spend your hours and minutes and days?

Don writes, 'Much of our lives are spent avoiding conflict'. Yes, it's true. In this busy life.. when we are trying so desperately not to be busy, we then want to just avoid conflict at all costs, in order to survive. To make it out on the other side. No waves for my little boat, don't you see I just paddled 20 miles?

Yet it's this conflict that grows us, stretches us and bonds us. It is the similar experiences that bond us together. It's not about me, singular. Don wrote about a team losing, yes losing, a championship, and winning it a year later. Yet when the movie was written and filmed, they did it about the year they lost. Why? Because that year, they tried harder, they overcame more. 'It wasn't necessary to win for the story to be great, it was only necessary to sacrifice everything.'

Boom.. that hit me. I'm sacrificing what the nominal chrisitan church life looks like. The easy road, the wide road. I'm going on the road that seems to be much longer and higher.. harder to get at.. to get through. I look around and always see the few familiar faces. Others pass by saying.. I'll meet you at the top. Don talks about a journey on the Inca Trail. The guide, on purpose, takes them the hard way, the long way. Not the short way, and not by bus or train. Why? Because you will enjoy the journey more. You will sweat and ache.. but once you get there.. it will be so much more sweeter.

We are bonded in the journey we are taking. Bonded in the ups and downs.

What are the memorable scenes of your life? How can you create a memorable life? For me, when Don was writing, especially about the lake/nature/etc, it brought back so many memories. It connected me immediately to certain places and people. I remember the last time my family was all at the lake, I remember that night, I remember the temperature. I remember how we laughed and threw rocks off the dock. I remember the way the sunset looked on our faces. Somewhere I knew it would be the last time there, the last time since we were all together.

I remember driving back from one of our retreats, probably in 2000 or so. We had just gone to Rock Lake Camp just by Crystal City. We were driving back through the hills and valleys in Geralds old white Rabbit, the one with a Pepsi logo on it. Beki and Melissa and I were scrunched in the back, and Ben and G were up front. And I remember Beki tearing up and I asked what was wrong, and she said, I'm with my best friends in the whole world, I'm so happy. And yet in the moment, we knew it wouldn't happen again like this. We had just had a Holy Spirit Weekend Retreat. Saw people's lives changed, had our own lives changed. But we had to move on.

I remember sitting with Chris on the beach on some Scottish Island. We had paddled till my arms almost fell off, and I had visions of Jesus walking on the water. Finally, after seeing wallabies jump around in thick moss covered hills, we camped. No technology, no wild animals. Good food that filled. The stars above. The sand beneath. And quiet. We shared nature and shared the quiet. I remember sharing the loudness of 80,000 British fans with Maryn, twice.

I remember the last time I hugged my Dad and the last time I saw him. I can't ever remember the first time I met any of my best friends now, at any point. I remember all the times at the Lake when one of us severely injured ourselves, even though I was under 10. I remember all the times I have played Rock Band with my cousins. I remember the first time I saw my Kitty who was 2 months old, and I remember putting her to sleep at the vets office like it was yesterday. She was 19 and I felt like crying forever at ending a life.

I remember praying with Beki and Dan. I remember praying with Pamela and Jaylene. I remember going under with Brad in the Lake.

I remember driving Chris to the LA airport with Danielle at like 5am .. we nearly missed a van on fire (flames shooting out of the hood).. and we didn't even blink an eye, we needed to find our exit, which we almost missed. I remember the first time I sat down at IHOP (front row) with Janelle, right as Jordan placed his massive peddle board inches away from me. Ohhh boy! Hello Electric Guitarist in the Prayer Room!

I remember the first time I learned to drive. My Uncle Mark plopped me in the Tempo and we sped along the lake roads at 30 km/hr. Nathan and Matt passed us.. I nearly passed out. I don't remember the first time I crashed a motorcycle. I do remember the first time I got on my own motorcycle and road from Beasejour to Winnipeg, never had ridden a sportsbike before.

And for all of this and more I think, it's not about the destination. It's about the journey. Janelle asked me what I wanted to get from God on Sunday. I said.. well.. really I want to know the end, I want to know how long I work here, when I can start my next big thing, and what is going to happen and when. And of course I know it won't happen. I won't get told it, because it will spoil the journey. If someone had told me that at the KC Conference, you will roll around in the pews with your fellow SHOPers, and pray and pray till you feel like there is nothing left.. then pray some more... and pray into people.. and people pray you literally into the floor.. it wouldn't have meant anything to me. It was the journey that got me there.

And on this last (final!) note.. Don talked about a family he knew having a parade. How on one boring New Years Day, they decided to gather the neighbourhood and have a parade, with a BBQ at the end. But, no one could be an onlooker and just watch. You either had to participate or stay indoors. Well 10 years later, this thing is huge! Everyone dresses up... has fun.. gathers on the street.. and is IN the parade. This brought a brief flash of the church for me. I've been to many places where I've watched the parade.. big.. small.. some very flashy.. some were almost apologizing for putting on the parade. But if you aren't in it.. why bother? You forget the reason.. you become disillusioned. You grow stiff and tired. You go home. And don't bother coming out or even looking at the parade, much less wanting to be in it.

Please come back. Come back and come fight with me. Fight for your life. Forget the mundane, the boring, the striving, the busyness. Risk everything and just come back.

Images from the Prayer Room

The Divine Romance in the Prayer Room

I was trying to hunt down our South Campus prayer room.. and found a wall of prayers.. this was from a student.. quoting Gene Edwards' The Divine Romance

2 years and a day

Two years ago I was in such a different place.

It was onething07 in Winnipeg.. my first 'real' introduction to what IHOP was. It was a necessary down-time meets cleansing time. I was working in another environment that caused me to build up a shell as a means of survival. That weekend was a softening of the heart. I remember crying and crying, breaking the shell that I had created in trying to protect myself. I remember seeing Marcus and Tim for the first time and the physical set up of the musicians and singers from IHOP. Something that was so new and different is now quite common and custom for me now. Traditional worship setup, as I used to know, is now quite foreign. I am now not used to performers or songs about myself.

Wes blogs about it here: First time to Canada…, Day 2 of Onething Winnipeg…, Off to Calgary, CA…

A month later was the first Kingdom Come conference at CT with Trev. I had the honour of hosting (or being honoured by) Kevin Thompson. Janelle also hosted with me. She got Todd Bentley. We both bonded, in being from the Link, being Mennonite girls in a Holy Spirit environment, and from our new interest in SHOP (Sanctuary House of Prayer).

I still remember going to the Keg, hanging out with Michael Larson and crew (Monty, Ben, Jason and co.), staring at Todd's tattoos on his neck, and talking about the (infamous) 2nd floor of the Hotel Fort Gary, where they were staying. This also could have been one of the first times I hung out with Barney (Dave Barnum). I remember driving to the Stars nearby and bumping into the band and driving them back.. talking about Winnipeg in an affectionate light. I remember wearing my new pointy shoes and slipping on the pavement, Kev and Brian were my catchers.. seriously! :)

It feels like forever ago. I'm working in another environment, my continuous Bible study from 1999, which took a 2 year hiatus, will hopefully be back again just around the corner. The old question of.. 'so which church are you at now?'.. was hopefully answered a bit more corporately as a result from Saturday's unexpected stage time. Yes the SHOPers are my church family now. A family that keeps growing and growing. Yes... the loud snap-crackle-pop crazies in the back pews who have been praying since Thursday night for you.. yes that's me.

And Happy 6th Birthday mom! She met Jesus.. seriously.. really.. for the first time.. 6 years ago.

Streetlight

Phil Danyew - Streetlight myspace.com/phildanyew (Love the Canucks)

I saw a Love, deeper than the Pacific,
I saw a Love, burning brighter than a million stars,
In a single Light,
You make alive,
Anyone who feels that You bring to mind,
Everything that’s beautiful in this life,
I find who I wanna be inside Your eyes,
Inside Your mind,
Yea, I need Your life
‘Cause I’m living just to love You, and…

I saw, You glowing like a streetlight and,
I fell, in love just tryin’ to understand
Why You loved me first.
Your heart, is all I ever want to know,
And I’ll go, anywhere You want to go,
You’re shining bright.
You’re my streetlight.

Am I out of control?
Or do I have a vision to change the world?
Am I looking for means to pave the way,
For brighter days?
‘Cause your love has changed the way it used to be.
‘Cause it used to be
I couldn’t see 5 feet in front of me,
Fighting to breathe on the heavy seas of incomplete
And tired dreams,
‘Til You finally took me over, and…

I saw, You glowing like a streetlight and,
I fell, in love just tryin’ to understand
Why You loved me first.
Your heart, is all I ever want to know
And I’ll go, anywhere You want to go,
You’re shining bright.
You’re my streetlight.

I can see the stars,
The clouds are gone
The weather’s at our fingertips.
I’ll be waiting for,
Waiting for You.
Take me where You want
I’ll go!

I saw, You glowing like a streetlight and,
I fell, in love just tryin’ to understand
Why you loved me first.
Your heart is all I ever want to know,
And I’ll go, anywhere you want to go,
You’re shining bright.
You’re my streetlight.