Well, it’s almost Christmas. I’m in Hamilton, visiting my mom’s side of the family. Auntie Marg, whose home I’m invading for a couple weeks, is a prime example for Omas everywhere. I haven’t been pampered Oma style in a while, and it’s been nice. Home baking, British comedy, and conversation over drying dishes, it’s been pretty great times all around. I’m staying in her guest room, with her grandchildren looking on from the walls.

I left Montreal on Saturday. I’m always nervous when I travel on my own. I always think I’m forgetting something. So I haven’t figured out what it was this time, probably nothing. I’m paranoid now about leaving things behind. I know I have a problem with that kind of thing, so now half the time when I leave a place it’s all I can think about. Anyway, I made it to the bus station on time and lined up. The bus was pretty full, with all the McGill and Concordia students going home to Ontario and all. I ended up sitting beside some girl I missed the name of. I told her mine, but it was really loud in there when she told me her’s, so I couldn’t hear it. I didn’t feel like asking again.

For most of the trip, the bus was pretty quiet. Most people slept or read. I did both while listening to music on this thing. It was pretty uninteresting. Then we stopped in I don’t know where. It was the first stop on the twelve hour bus ride. I recognized the name of the place, but I don’t remember which small, Ontario town it was. Anyway, there was a restaurant and a Tim’s there. At first I thought, ‘hey I’ll try this little restaurant out, I’m sick of Tim Horton’s coffee anyway.’ No luck. They were cash only. So I head over to Timmy Hoe’s for a bagal, doughnut and coffee. Of course the line up is almost out the door because we’re at a big bus stop and well, it’s Ontario. I’m already kind of worried that this place doesn’t take debit either, but when I get to the beginning of the line, I see the machine and relax. I order all my food and hand her my card and the lady says what sounds like, “Oh, we only take debit and mastercard.” I say, “this is debit.” and she “repeats” “no, we only take mastercard.” I kind of feel like getting upset, because I see the debit machine right in front of me, but I just turn away to go look for a cash machine. I find one in the first restaurant/bus station, but of course it doesn’t work so I ask the ticket counter guy for a twenty. I go back to Timmy’s, order the same junk, and by the time it’s all done, I have to be back on the bus. So get this straight: Tim Horton’s owns debit machines. I saw them at the counter. Two of them. But they won’t use them. They turned me away and threw out the food I ordered because I didn’t have cash. I think this must be the stupidest thing I’ve seen ever. Welcome to the 21st century, Tim. We use cards to pay for stuff. It’s just the way the world is working now. And never mind Tim Horton’s, Ontario. The other place didn’t have any debit machine either. It’s weird. In B.C. you don’t need cash at all. You can pay with any card anywhere. We’ve embraced it completely. Not here, I guess.

Anyway, the bus only went to Toronto. It cost half as much to do it that way instead of going to Hamilton. So I had to use their “GO” transit system, which must have been made in the 60’s but is still ten times better than Vancouver’s system from the 80’s. You should see their subways. They’re all steal on the outside like they just came off the set of some black and white mobster movie. Pretty rad. Anyway, I took one of those to Union Station and got on the Go train to Anchaster so I could finally get my last bus ride to Hamilton bus terminal. My mom’s cousin Jim and his family were there to pick me up and bring me to the Tichelaar street, as I will refer to it from now on. It’s a lot like the Koole block, but more linear.

We went to their house for a little while and caught up. Jim had been to BC I think it was this summer or for Opa and Tina’s wedding or something. What was it again, anyone from the Potma side? I don’t remember. Anyway, we talked about where the kids, Abby and Jake, were at in school and about my school. I think I’ve had to explain YWAM DTS about a thousand times since I got here. Then I went over to Auntie Marg’s to talk to her for a while and get set up in bed. I was pretty tired from all the travelling and everything.

Sunday was crazy. We went to 1st CRC Hamilton for church. This guy, Peter Tichelaar (not related to me, but to my relatives. My Auntie Marg married into the Tichelaar family) did the worship. He’s pretty controversial in the congregation because he moves and dances while he leads and has invited a couple pianists who played too “jazzy” for some people. I love him. For Christmas, he had djembae and Native American drum for his percussion, and pulled out both acoustic and electric mandelin along with the regular guitar and bass. And when he plays the guitar, he’s not afraid to really play, you know? He lets the thing jangle a bit. I like it. He reminded me of Sufjan Stevens a bit. Really great worship time. Anyway, afterward we went to cousin Ken’s place for the Tichelaar Christmas. I felt kind of awkward there, like a part time member to a sports team that has a real bond going on. It had nothing to do with the way they treated me. They included me in everything. Auntie Marg even gave me a book as a gift. But it felt weird on the inside. I didn’t get completely comfortable till Ken, Jim and I went to the garage to smoke cigars and shoot the shit. I’d say at that point I felt home.

Nothing much has happened since then. Monday was really lazy. Tuesday Auntie Marg and visited Auntie Tina for a bit and I spent some of the day with her. We visited her son Vince at his small engine shop. I looked around for any Skags, but he doesn’t sell them. We went to the retirement home where she works and I got hit on by some confused old lady. We went to Tim Horton’s afterward and then she brought me home to Auntie Marg’s. It was great hanging out with her for awhile. That night I went over to Jim and Marie-Jane’s to watch the movie “Goal!” with them and Jake. It had some cheesy “inspirational” moments that weren’t helped by the film score, but overall, it was alright.

Oh man, the whole thing with Auntie Tina was today. I guess I messed it up because of the nap I had this afternoon. That was kind of disorienting. Anyway, you get the picture so far. It’s been pretty good and relaxing. I got to get some sleep now. Tomorrow I’ll let you know about the week before that in Montreal. Should be a treat trying to get those days figured out.

So Darrell and Adrienne came this weekend for my Birthday. What a great time we had. I would have to say Friday night was one of the most epic nights of the entire trip. From the litre of beer at Trois Brasseurs to the awkward situation at the jazz club, to the many “ophile” usages, twas a night to remember.

Finding their hotel was an exercise. I got off the metro at Place D’Armes like Adrienne said and walked toward the river, past the Notre Dame, to Rue Commune, but then turned right instead of left. About ten minutes later, after feeling like I had walked into the 19th century, I hit McGill and knew I had missed them or had gone the wrong way. So I called Darrell and he met me half way. We ran toward each other like lovers in some cheesy old movie. And with the snow falling and everything, it was a great start.

Maybe I should explain the jazz club. When I got to their hotel it was already around 7:00. They had asked the concierge for a nice place the night before and she had sent them to this expensive jazz wine bar. We asked her to phone them for a reservation, but couldn’t get one till 9:30, so we went to Trois Brasseurs, a micro brewery, for dinner instead. The plan was to go to the jazz place for dessert.

When we got their and asked for the dessert menu, the waiter was obviously perturbed. He made a comment like, “usually people order dinner first,” and walked away. It kind of annoyed us, but we laughed it off. He went off to tell his snooty waiter friends about the BS table he was serving and they all proceeded to glare at us all night. Most impressive. And when Darrell ordered the 2005 bottle, he was given the 2007. Very classy. The lady could sing, though. The band was hot.

Saturday we went to the Andy Warhol exhibition. That guy was completely obsessed with celebrities, which was pretty odd seeing as he was one. Some of his stuff looks fantastic, and I appreciated what he did for art, but he’s not the kind of guy I would want around me much. He seems very superficial. He even said so himself.

My Birthday began with a trip to Nottingham and Sherwood Forest. It’s a toss up, but I think Robin Hood has to be one, if not the, best cartoon full length film of all time. I never get sick of it. Great movie. We walked around the city a bit in the afternoon, had dinner at this surprisingly trendy bar on rue St. Denis. Everything was dimly lit and all the beer had specific glasses. Afterward we went to the Cremazie apartment where Adrienne baked cookies for everyone and we spread the Tim Tam “little g” gospel to everyone. There were no complaints.

Monday, Darrell Adrienne and I decided to be adventurous and walk up Mont Royal in -16 to -20 degree weather. Pretty dang cold, but we made it. Spent an hour or so playing Go Fish and sipping our chocolate chaud in the chalette on top by the viewpoint. On the way down we got so cold that Adrienne got a stomach ache from it. Intense. We walked through the underground mall to keep away from it and so Adrienne could see what was all down there. I haven’t spent much time in there. It’s friggin’ huge.

Tuesday was the last day we had together, and it was mostly spent doing practical things like trying to get me a new hard drive for my computer. There’s an actual Appleâ„¢ Store on St. Catherine, so we went there, thinking we could get one there. No go. Two floors that make you feel like you’re in an ipod and they can’t sell me a hard drive. I even set up an appointment to talk to one of their “geniuses” and everything. What a disappointment.

Anyway, we went back to the apartment afterward. They called a cab and finished packing their stuff. 45 minutes later the taxi finally pulls up and we all get in the back. By now it was rush hour, plus we were in the middle of a snow storm. What a mess. And every time the lady taxi driver tried to find a way to the airport, it was jammed full. At one point we spent 20 minutes in one spot, trying to turn left. And we were only around five kilometres away. So stressful. Adrienne ended up calling Mom and then WestJet to let them know they were still coming and could they hold on for just a couple minutes. We actually got to the airport 25 minutes before the plane was supposed to take off. They almost didn’t let them on. Other than a girl who had a Plants and Animals LP for her sister for Christmas, they were the last ones on. Needless to say, my bus ride home was not as exciting.

Anyway, that pretty much raps up the weekend. We had an awesome time, eh? Thanks for coming, guys. You made my 22nd special. And thanks for all the groceries. The spekulaas and chocolate chip cookies are a real treat.

I haven’t written anything for a week and a half. I guess I should let you know what’s going on.

Not a lot is going on. We’ve been lying around a lot. I’ve read two books, “Living On the Devil’s Door Step” by Floyd McClung and “Why I Write” by George Orwell. “Devil’s Doorstep” was interesting. It’s one of those situations where no matter how many clichés and Christianisms the guy uses, the incredibleness of the story pulls through. He couldn’t wreck it. His story is too great. It was an odd read because from the outside (and partially, the inside) it looked like the most typical Christian missionary story, but after reading it, you realize that the guy has got it. I’m not going to ruin it for you by telling you what happens. Just go out and read it.

The other one, George Orwell’s essay, was simply an exercise in gaining knowledge about writing. I like to write, and I like George Orwell, so why not find out why he writes if he’s written it down? I don’t really have anything else to say about that.

Bado (Obadias) and I went to Sam Robert’s show on Friday. He had the whole weekend to himself, with three shows on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. It was pretty rad seeing him play for his hometown. You could tell his heart was in it. I like it when the guy with the mic calls the crowd his friends, or in this case, “mes amis.” Good touch. We met some people who were going to the Plants and Animals show the following Wednesday. I would have done that too, but I didn’t act quickly enough. It was only $14. Pretty awesome. Anyway, yeah, good show. We had a great time.

Dan came by for a visit on Saturday. He helped excite things a little. Got me off the couch. We went out to one of Montreal’s micro-breweries for beer and nachos and then met up with Matt Gee and friends. It was great making connections outside of YWAM finally. We spent all night at Matt’s apartment, ended up missing the last train back, and didn’t fall asleep till about 7:00 AM. At about 8:30 we got up and headed to Sauvé so he could grab his things before leaving for home. Thank you Dan, for coming. We had a great weekend, did we not?

I was orientated on Tuesday for volunteering at MAB Centre for the Blind. You would all be proud. Not only was I on time, I was early. One other lady, Cindy, was there already when I got there. We had to take a true or false quiz about misconceptions concerning blind people. I would have given myself a B. But they didn’t grade it so I’m alright. Anyway, two other women came, both whose names I can’t remember. They were similar and French, that’s all I can recall. We were blindfolded and led by Suzanne’s voice (Suzanne is the lady who interviewed me two weeks beforehand) to a room, which ended up being her office. Still blindfolded, we went over the quiz and talked about what people think about blind people. Then we watched some really old, cheesy educational films about how to properly guide blind people and what not to do. Despite the feeling that I was back in high school gym class, I learned some valuable lessons. I talked with Suzanne afterward about what I’ll be doing and when. It sounds like I probably won’t be really getting into anything until after Christmas. That means more waiting around. But I’ll live. More time to find a cafe to latch on to.

Next week we’re in Dunham. I’m pretty excited to see those guys again. A fun group. They have some instruments there, including a drum kit, so I’ll be able to get my beat on. I think I’ll bring my saxophone too, just for kicks. Should be interesting.

I’ve been on the computer too long and I’m hungry, so I’m going to go eat. Let me know when it snows there. It’s already started over here, but the weather’s acting like B.C. It’ll snow and then rain the next day. Rain ruins everything in the winter.

Peace.

I think I’ve found my church here. This morning we went to “River’s Edge,” an English-speaking, seemingly-outward-looking congregation with a sense of humour. I have to go again next week to make sure, but I liked it. The worship was different from home, and the traditions are different, but I’m not going to find a carbon copy of Immanuel here. I think I want to try a French church before I make a final decision, but it was good. A friendly atmosphere.

The preacher preached about God authenticating our leadership. Definitely applicable to the hungry YWAMer. Especially after spending a week thinking about my dreams. He ended with the whole God saying “be strong and courageous” to Joshua thing. It hit me that the only thing stopping me from making these eight months phenomenal was me and the fear of failing. I walked out pretty pumped.

I’ve been thinking about my internship all week, trying to find direction. I went to a Groupes Biblique meeting (Intervarcity for the French) on Tuesday to see what Dave Kieft is up to. I totally support what he’s doing, but I don’t think it’s what I’m supposed to do in Montreal. A lot of people here have challenged me to move out of the Christian circle and immerse myself more in the wider culture. I think I’ll listen to them.

Thinking more outward sent me into the city today. I planned to walk around yesterday, but it rained all day. Getting my feet wet didn’t sound exciting. Nick reminded me last night about our record/book store/coffee shop idea, and it excited me. I walked around the cool part of town to see if something similar exists here. I saw no such mergers. I wandered for three of four hours, waiting for something.

I found the last spot in Starbucks and had a conversation with Simon in the other seat, a 50-something Quebecois. It was difficult to catch everything he said, partially due to his broken English, partially due to his broken train of thought, but what I caught was gold. His comment about needing courage in life had me connecting his unorganized ideas to what I heard this morning. God must have been involved. How else could the day have been so conclusive? Like a chapter in a book.

I finished ‘Tom Sawyer’ last night. Read that book. You feel like a kid reading it. It makes you want to explore. Or be a pirate. Or a robber. Yeah! A ROBBER!!!

Anyway, I’m off. It’s 11:36 and I have an interview with Mackay Centre for the Deaf And Blind tomorrow afternoon that I need to be well rested for. Blessings for Langley.

Pierre sent us this picture. I thought you would all like to know the faces of the people I’m talking about. Here they are!

on top: priest we met, Denny holding Dennis (who you can’t really see), Julia, Thomas, pastor we met

on bottom: Glen Smith, Lauren, Beatrice, Obadias, me.

We’ve been gone in Toronto all week and I haven’t connected to the internet for a decent amount of time since Sunday, so I’m getting my fix now, telling you all about what went down in that town.

I guess the first significant event was dinner with John Franklin. John is a friend of Pierre’s who is a professor of theology at Tinsdale University. I’m not sure if that name is right, but who cares. What an awesome dude. He sat us down in his study/library (the guy must have around 5,000 books) to get to know a little about us before dinner. We’ve all gotten pretty good at explaining ourselves in one or two sentences, so it didn’t take long. I spent most of the time reading the book bindings.

John’s wife is exceptional. We barely saw her because she gave up her spot around the table so we could all fit, but we got to know her based on her actions, which is usually a clearer picture anyway. She made us so much food. It was like Thanksgiving or Christmas or something. There was ham, two kinds of potatoes, slices of peppers and squash, apple sauce, and chocolate cake like I have never eaten in my life. It was as close to perfect as you can get on earth.

Conversation at dinner was intense. It felt like I had stepped back into PHILS 106 with Bob Doede. Except Bob had gained a lot of weight and looked more like Santa Claus. We spoke together about art and theology and philosophy; all things holy and good. John helps lead something called “Imago;” an organization that helps believing artists – whether musicians or painters or dancers or whathaveyou – get their stuff out there. On Wednesday we went to an art exhibition they put on and it was incredible. Fones, you would have died. Anyway, about our conversation, a couple things he said really stuck with me. He said art is about truth. Amen to that, eh?! We had a whole conversation about that; just a taste of the blessings poured out on us that night like syrup. We went to sleep on Monday with full stomachs and sticky smiles.

Tuesday morning was spent with 614, a Salvation Army ministry in Regent Park, Toronto’s biggest ghetto. They first sat us down and told us a little about the history of the neighbourhood. They built it after WWII. It was the first housing development of its kind in Canada and is still the biggest. And they made so many mistakes, the worst being that they made no thru-roads, making it an island in the middle of the city. They’re trying to fix it right now, but there’s a lot of due skepticism about it. Mostly, they’re just pushing the poor out, which doesn’t really solve anything and just pisses people off. From there we went out for lunch at “The Real Jerk,” a Jamaican restaurant near the their building, with the “Ignite” kids. “Ignite” is the Salvation Army’s DTS basically. We looked around Regent Park afterward with them and Zooey, their leader, talked all about it. It sounds like their doing some awesome work. They’re being respectful and relational. We had to leave them for Missisauga, which ended up being a mistake. Pierre got his days mixed up and we ended up missing what was planned for the afternoon. Annoying, but it’s in the past.

Wednesday. I already talked about the art exhibit. It was called “Till We Have Faces,” and was obviously then a series of portraits from an array of artists. Some pretty cool shat. I especially liked one artist’s work, Paul Roorda. He used things that had to do with the image to make it, like crushed monkey bone for “Adam” and “Eve” and snake skin for “Serpent.” I know it sounds weird, but it looked really good.

Afterward, we walked down Yonge Street, Toronto’s main drag. Very rue St. Catherine (Montreal reference, sorry) but more English and littered with ads and screens. We stopped at Dundas square to decide on a cafe, and there, by the street was a three-by-four square metre white box. Naturally, I went over to check it out. On the side of it was a caption that explained. Without going into too much detail, it said that inside was a crowd of talented people willing, for one day, to answer anyone’s question in 20 minutes. Essentially, they were thinking “inside the box” (get it?). ‘What a cool idea,’ I thought, so I told everyone else to go read it, too. Some people in charge noticed our interest and started filming and photographing us. A guy came by to further explain and get us to sign away our faces so they could use the footage for their documentary. We came up with a question (how do we use art to reconcile the rich and the poor and the cultures of the world?), which was heralded as the best question so far of the day, and they went at it. We waited inside the Hard Rock Cafe across the square until they called us back.

Pierre, Thomas and I entered and they presented their answer, a grassroots movement with the slogan “Everyone Speaks Art.” It started with a UN installed, international Art Day, set aside for cultures all around the world to show off their skills. Pretty rad idea. Then they moved on to other ideas for the movement, art exhibitions in low income areas, art publicly displayed in parks and city squares, and an art auction with pieces from famous and homeless people, with the identity of the artist only being revealed after sale. These guys were on fire. They gave me a hint of their smarts after I first asked our jumbled question and the one guy with the “Fargo” hat broke it down into six words, “reconciling class and culture through art.” They definitely inspired me.

Thursday morning we went back downtown to “Sanctuary,” a church community of mostly homeless people. They’re supported by other churches like a charity, but aren’t really run like one. When I mention some of the stuff they do, they might sound like one, but their emphasis on relationship and community transcends them to something more than just a soup kitchen with a health clinic. Allan, The guy who spoke with us and showed us around, explained it really well. He broke down how people think of the homeless, from disgust to compassion, and said that none of these things were quite what these people need. He said what they need is love and trust. His call is hard. I don’t know if I could do it. It’s hard to care for people more than they care about themselves. But the people who work at Sanctuary do it every day. Props to them.

In the afternoon, we visited “New Direction,” a group of people who minister to the gay community in the Toronto area. Another tough calling. They said they spent most of their time repairing the church’s ideas about gay people and how to reach them. Most churchgoers would rather not reach them at all. They get a lot of hate-mail, either from angry Christians, or angry homosexuals who think they’re fundamentalist Christian conservatives, blah blah blah. The reason for all the flak from the Christian community is that New Direction doesn’t try to stretch gays straight. They realize that more often than not that doesn’t work. Instead, they try to help gay people live with it, and encourage celibacy. It’s difficult, but they’ve got a pretty clear picture of the situation. I think they’re doing a great job.

So with all of that as a platform, we spent all of yesterday at “Call2All,” an evangelism conference in rural Ontario. First of all, it was one of the most boring days of my life. By 2:00 PM I was sick to the stomach with boredom. We got there at 8:30 to help set up, put tables out at 11:00, and I manned a camera from 7:00 PM to 8:30. Other than some listening and participating, that’s all we did all day. No internet. No soccer balls or cards. We did nothing. Some people had internet, but it wasn’t working on my computer. We ended up watching some Michael Jackson videos on YouTube for a bit. But the boredom wasn’t the worst of it.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to properly explain the feel of the place, but it was unsettling. Eerily evangelestic. Does that make sense? The church was called “The Embassy of the Kingdom of God.” I think that best describes it. If you’ve seen “There Will Be Blood,” you get the picture. We didn’t actually spend that much time in the conference listening, because frankly, when we did it just bored us even more. They kept saying the same things we’ve heard for the past twenty years. Reach the unreached, like the indigenous peoples of Africa or the mountain dwellers of Northern India. They had a giant map out separating China and India based on the amount of “unreached” people in the region. I didn’t find that so bad, but with everything surrounding it, it just added to the effect. They emphasized more on the mission than the people. Everything was so strategized and calculated. There was one good speaker named Markus, who shows short films to people to encourage conversation. But what came after him just made me angry.

At this point I was at the camera, so I couldn’t fully concentrate on what this guy was saying, but the gist was that the best way to impact young people was to entertain them. He used a story of a lecture he gave to some pastors as an example. He asked them if any of them remembered their last sermon or the points of it. Of course, he got a pretty dismal response. Then he asked them if any of them remembered the movie “Titanic” and a bunch of them could sing the theme song. I think he missed the point of his own story. He thought the reason the preachers remembered Titanic was because it entertained them, but I’m pretty sure it was because it was a story. That’s why people also remember Jesus’ parables. All I have to say is “mustard seeds” or “the talents” and most of you know what I’m talking about (if you don’t, see Matthew 13:31 or 25:14). Then he went on to show how big mega events are a great way to evangetain the kids. He talked about “World Impact Tour,” this Billy Graham endorsed show that went all over, specifically Scotland, to save the youth of the world. He gave us a bunch of statistics and numbers of kids declaring faith at these things(failing, of course, to show us how many of those kids are actually still faithful). Then he showed us a video of people wielding fire, skateboarders screaming out that Jesus loves you while tossing their helmets aside and muscle men breaking bricks and making their fingers into crosses. And he was introducing this as a new tool of evangelism. But this is how the evangelical community has been “reaching” youth for the last ten years. And it doesn’t work. I’ve gone to these things. One happened every Friday while I was growing up. It was called “Revolution.” I’ve watched a classmate close his eyes and raise his hands and then go smoke pot behind the church. Even though I was a Christian before I went to any of these things, I’ve gotten caught up in all of it. I’ve been convinced that I need to “come to the front and give my life to Jesus,” even though I was already living for Him. I don’t think it’s right, getting kids’ adrenaline going so that in the heat of everything they’ll answer to your alter call. It’s manipulation. You’re manipulating young people when you do that.

And then a little puke came up the back of my throat. They asked everyone in the room to estimate how many people they could reach in the next ten years (most people in the room were leaders of missions organizations). They actually asked people to give them numbers. I wanted to walk up to Pierre and tell him to put down the number 1, just to see what they would say.

Anyway, I’ve ranted enough I think. You get the picture. I didn’t enjoy myself. I had a hard time sleeping despite the fact we got billeted out and I got to sleep in a nice, warm, soft bed. Plus they gave me some really good rue barb and custard pie. Yum. Nevertheless, couldn’t sleep. But we left all that behind this morning. Drove straight back to Montreal with only one stop to play Monopoly at Mcdonald’s. Anybody got Tennessee Avenue?

Hey Nick. This poem is by Buzzy Enniss. I bought his book in Portland this summer and read it all the other night. It’s awesome and funny. I was going to type out another one for your Birthday, but I just reread it, and it doesn’t work very well. This one will just make you feel good, which is what Birthdays are for, to make you feel good. Special.

Oh warning, this is not a short poem.

IF I WAS JESUS

If I was Jesus

I would rewrite parts of the bible

Instead of always just walking on water

sometimes I would swim through it really really fast

Instead of always giving blind people normal sight

Every now and then I would give them infrared vision

Like that thing from Predator

If I was Jesus

I’d makes a world where lawyers had to wait tables to pay their bills

While artists and musicians ordered their food and asked for

“More wine, please.”

If I was Jesus

I’d use the pick-up line

Hey Baby, I’m the Son of God, ya know

If I was Jesus

I would make carrots bigger

If I was Jesus

I would wear a loincloth because it would be socially acceptable, and comfortable

If I was Jesus

And someone prayed, asking me for help with his or her job interview,

I would tell them to go dressed as Underdog, and then watch, just for fun

If I was Jesus

I would walk into every place of worship – Jewish, Mormon, Muslim, Jehovah’s Witness,

Catholic and Christian – just to see who had really learned the most from me

If I was Jesus

I would remove the part of people that slows down to look at car accidents on the freeway

If I was Jesus

I would make everyone that wears a cross around their neck for fashion feel for 30 sec-

onds what I felt on that cross for 6 1/2 hours

If I was Jesus

I would die for you, and surprise you three days later by kissing the back of your neck

I would send you a piece of my robe when you got sick

I would tell you what the top of the stars look like

I would never let you itch again

If I was Jesus

I would turn the 70% of you that is water into wine and kiss you with the taste of Merlot on our lips

If I was Jesus

I would be with you right now

by Buzz Enniss

I realize this was probably written for his wife, but the last line was so good I had to share it with you. Nick, if I was Jesus, I would be with you right now. Happy Birthday brother. I miss and love you. Go home for Christmas so Mom and Dad aren’t alone in the house for our Jesus’ Birthday.

So Saturday morning I volunteered at a Christian prayer booth at a psychic fair. In the 1980’s, when the the fair began, God told Pierre through conviction to put a prayer booth in there. Near the end of our first week, he asked for volunteers. Denny and I put our hands up without really knowing what we were getting into.

Because Denny and I both only speak English, we were separated. I went on Saturday from 11 to 3 and Denny went at the same time on Sunday. I didn’t know how long it would take to get there, so I arrived a little early and ended up being the first one from our booth there. An awkward situation. There’s witches and terra card readers setting up all around me and I’m just sitting there. What made it even more awkward was when I told one of them that I was there to help out, not realizing she was from a different, more astronomy-themed station. After ten minutes or so, I took the blanket off the table full of stuff and soon after a French man came to help.

Well, help. He was there to do everything. Almost everyone spoke French so he and the other man that showed up later did most of the talking. They impressed me. They just jumped right into it. No reservations. I was so nervous, scared that some new ager was going to grill me on what the soul is (some thing that ended up happening exactly).

I had some good experiences. Some people did come by who spoke English. One guy, big tall guy with long dreads and headphones, came by in his French accent and asked what we were about. I told him we were there to show people the power of prayer. He said sometimes he looked up, but couldn’t think of anything to say because he didn’t think God was interested. I told him God loved him and was interested in whatever he wanted to say. He asked me how prayer affected my faith. I said without prayer my faith would be completely intellectual. I wouldn’t have a relationship with Him, which is exactly what He wants; a relationship. He said he was going to continue his tour.

A 20-something woman from Vancouver came by to see how the scene was in Montreal. She was disappointed. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “The scene in Vancouver is way bigger.” She made me want to come home and start a booth there.

And other than the new age lady pointing the finger, that was pretty much it. It was about 2:30 and I was checking my phone for the time every five minutes. Then these two girls who seemed to be having fun came by and asked me what was good to do there. “Nothing,” I said.

“Why,” the darker haired one asked, “do you think it’s bullshit?”

“Well, most of it, yeah,” I said.

“Then what are you doing here?” the other asked.

I kind of looked down sheepishly, “Well I’m a Christian, and this is a prayer booth, so I’m helping these guys out.”

“Don’t be ashamed of it!” she said. It was like God was looking at me with this annoyed expression on his face.

So I stood straighter, looked up and reexplained. We talk for a little longer and they left.

After a few times of looking at each other and me mouthing at them to get out of there, they came back and asked us what they should do with a free question they were getting from another booth.

“Ask her if there was one thing they could receive that would give them eternal happiness, what that would be,” one of the other men at the booth told them.

“Yeah, but then she’ll just give us some whishy-washy answer. I want to ask a real question,” the darker haired one said.

“Well then push for something more real,” he said. They said something about not want to waste a bunch of money, I told them “we pray for free!” and they laughed and walked away again.

By that time I was pretty much done, so I grabbed my coat and things and walked out. I saw them in line for the free question as I left and gave my last try to get them to leave. They just laughed (I had done it humoringly) and stayed in line.

Something – and no it wasn’t the fact that they were cute – told me to wait for awhile on a bench in the conference building to see if they would leave soon. 15 minutes later they came out, called me on waiting for them and invited me to explore the city for the rest of the afternoon. They were from Toronto, it was Oana the dark haired one’s 20th birthday, and they didn’t have anything to do till the evening. We walked through old Montreal and discussed our spiritual beliefs and the fact that Mirjam and I were both dutch till dinner time. Found a great, French restaurant called “Crème de la Crème” (chosen despite my deciding it was too expensive based on its name. “Don’t judge a restaurant based on it’s name!” Mirjam said). Had some awesome onion soup, chicken pot pie and blueberry pie for only $14.95. It was a great time.

On the way to the metro station I introduced them to the awkward turtle and they wrote their names on my hand so I could find them on facebook. So if you want proof, I tagged the pictures. Jon and I were talking about spending New Year’s Eve in Toronto, so maybe I’ll see what they’re doing.

That’s the sort of thing I came here for; conversations with peers about where they are spiritually. I know there are young people to talk like that with at home, but separating yourself from the normal makes it easier. And I’m learning a lot here about where people outside of the church bubble are at. It makes talking to them better, more productive, if that makes sense. Like Pierre and Glen Smith said, coming in with your finger in Revelations telling them all “Repent, repent, repent!” isn’t going to work for most secular or searching city folk.

Anyway, I think that’s it for this time. Peace.

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I -

I took the one less traveled by

And that made all the difference.” – Robert Frost

So on Tuesday we all went up Mont Royal, had lunch and looked over Montreal. After we ate, Pierre told us we were going to walk alone around the mountain – it’s really a hill but I keep that to myself – and think as if we were Adam or Eve, taking in creation for the first time. He asked us to bring back ideas of their reactions and things of significance we found along the way. The idea sounded a little kitschy to me, but I went along with it anyway.

After watching a squirrel for 15 minutes or so, I began walking through the woods. But which way? Then I remembered that poem Mr. Beimers grilled into us in grade eight till our ears bled, along with the fact that The Path is narrow, and began following the smallest, most untrodden paths I could find. And it did make all the difference.

The first path led me under a walking bridge. Someone had made dinner – canned beans – over a fire under there. The words “WISDOM LOVE MAKE PEACE COMMUNITY” were painted on the wall along with “ANDREW + SABRINA” with a heart encircling it. I asked God who Sabrina was. He didn’t answer me.

Along with that, I found some garbage in strange places and made friends with a white squirrel. He was fighting with his brownish gray cousins. They weren’t accepting him for his differences. He seemed lonely, so I stuck around for a bit. 15 or 20 minutes later, a young, French couple caught sight of him and scared him away accidentally. After sharing what I saw with the group, I went back to there. He was still around, and after awhile, another young, but English this time, couple came by and saw him. They weren’t as obtrusive though, so we all looked at him for a bit. I told them about seeing him earlier and then we went our seperate ways.

I was supposed to head back to clean the apartment, but I felt drawn down some side roads instead. I walked through McGill, the big English university in the middle of the city, happened upon the Religious Studies and Music buildings, and made my way to UQAM the French university. For the first time since coming here, I saw a Starbucks, so I walked over and used some of the money on the card mom gave me. Thanks mom.

Last night we watched this movie, “Jesus of Montreal.” It was made here in 1989 by an atheist. Pierre said that in the years preceding the movie, the people of Montreal were realizing the spiritual void left from the Quiet Revolution. The director attempted to redeem Jesus’ story to them through this movie.

The movie accurately shows how so many Quebecers think about the Church and Christianity. By the end of the movie, Jesus was a good man with a good message who possibly lost his marbles near the end and died like a criminal because he upset the authorities of his day. And the Church was instigated by evil to use his message for profit. Depressing, I know. But it’s exactly what people around here think. Upsetting yes, but it was very educational.

I am seeing roads diverge lately. I ran into David Keift, family friend of some, cousin to others, at an emerging church meeting on Sunday. We’re going out for coffee next week to see if I can help Inter Varcity at all. Today two women came in from 24/7 Prayer and talked about what they’re trying to get started in Montreal. I’m going to join them, I believe. Things are falling into play. God’s sliding the pieces together.

Hope all is well back home.

I read something tonight that I’d like to share with you.

“He is the Beginning, O God, in which you made heaven and earth. In this wonderful way you spoke and created them in your Word in your Son, who is your Strength your Wisdom, and your Truth.

“Who can understand this mystery or explain it to others? What is that light whose gentle beams now and again strike through to my heart, causing me to shudder in awe yet firing me with their warmth? I shudder to feel how different I am from it: yet in so far as I am like it, I am aglow with its fire. It is the light of Wisdom, Wisdom itself, which at times shines upon me, parting my clouds. But when I weakly fall away from its light, those clouds envelop me again in the dense mantle of darkness which I bear for my punishment. For my strength ebbs away for very misery, so that I cannot sustain my blessings. And so I shall remain until you, O Lord, who have pardoned all my sins, also heal all my mortal ills. For you will rescue my life from deadly peril, crown me with the blessings of your mercy, content all my desire for good, restore my youth as the eagle’s plumage is restored. Our salvation is founded upon the hope of something, and in endurance we await the fulfilment of your promises. Let those who are able listen to your voice speaking to their hearts. Trusting in your inspired words, I shall cry out: What diversity, Lord, in your creatures! What wisdom has designed them all! The Beginning is Wisdom and Wisdom is the Beginning in which you made heaven and earth.” – St. Augustine.

See, even Augustine had trouble finding the words. How do you explain that to people? That wholly, awesome truth? I don’t know, either. I don’t know.