Book Release: The Genesis Cafe!

This is it! The day that every writer looks forward to with mingled emotions of excitement, trepidation, anticipation and that wonderful sense of accomplishment. The day when over a year's worth of hard work, research, creativity, endless rewrites, designing cover artwork -- and refining, refining, refining -- all coalesce into that penultimate moment where the announcement is finally made: The Genesis Café: Conversations on the Kingdom is hereby officially released!

I've wanted to write a book about the Kingdom of God since around 2008, and at numerous times, started to pull things together towards that end. But it always seemed, somehow, that the timing or the approach just wasn't right (for whatever reason).

But last year around this time, all the pieces began to come together, and I just knew:

1. Now is the time to write it, and
   
2. How I wanted to tell the Story
   

In the opening chapter, I enlisted the assistance of the Younger and the Elder in helping me explore the question of what Jesus meant when He said, "The Kingdom is near, repent and believe the good news". Let me tell you, it is a lot of creative fun to write scenes in a pub where you (as the author) and two characters you've created are all having a three-way conversation!

Writing a narrative story about understanding the Kingdom of God was a challenging approach, and entailed a great deal  of good, old-fashioned hard work. And I really, really enjoyed the whole creative process. This was a fun book to write!

I'm passionate about the topic, I'm thrilled with how the book turned out, and I'm excited to announce that The Genesis Café is now available.

Symbol Seach

The Kingdom of God was often presented with metaphors, parables, and symbols. The Pearl of Great Price, the Parable of the Sower, the Treasure Hidden in a Field, to name just a few.

In keeping with that motif, the cover artwork for the about-to-be-released The Genesis Cafe: Conversations on the Kingdom is chock-full of symbolic elements that find their way prominently into the storyline.

See how many you can correctly identify!

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The countdown continues...

Imminent

As in... soon.

Very, very soon.

In writer's terms, this is called foreshadowing. Or perhaps it's a little too blunt-edged to be truly foreshadowing. I suspect foreshadowing is actually supposed to be a little more subtle. Mysterious, even.

Anyway, the bottom line is: very soon.


Insider tip: every item on the table has significance to the storyline.

May the Fourth be with you

Our youngest daughter, Renee, was of the opinion until just a few weeks ago, that Wendy & I had chosen the 4th of May as our wedding date because of Star Wars. Yes, we do really enjoy the Star Wars movies, but I had to break the news to Renee that the expression "May the Fourth be with you" is a more recent phenomenon. Reality: it was the first Saturday after final exams. :)

And today, that dashingly attractive couple in the picture above now celebrates 28 years of marriage. Wendy is absolutely incredible (and gifted), and I love living life with her. And it is kinda fun to be able to say "happy anniversary" and "May the Fourth be with you". And now, off to fulfill my daily morning ritual of bringing my wife a steaming cup o' coffee in bed.

Stones: In the Beginning

Stones of Remembrance have always played a significant role in the history and story-telling of God's people. An example: When the Israelites first entered the promised land after 40 years in the wilderness, after crossing the Jordan River in much the same manner as when Moses had parted the Red Sea, Joshua instructed them to set up stones of remembrance to serve as a memorial (Joshua 4:4-7).

The recurring theme was simply "when your children ask 'what do these stones mean'....", you had another opportunity to re-tell a part of their story as God's people.

In the early part of the 21st century, it's equally important for us, as well, to stop and remind ourselves of some of our own personal stones of remembrance.

I've often heard it said that our experiences during the first five years of our lives shapes who we are for life. I've pondered, from time to time, if that might also be true in our spiritual lives. If that's the case, then my first year as a Christian (age 16) yields the following Stones of Remembrance:

1. Jesus is actually real.

The night of my surrender to Jesus was an evening of shock and surprise. Mainly because I didn't go to the evangelistic meeting with an open mind; I only went to placate some of my earnest Christian friends. God had other things in mind, despite my contempt for the 'band' and my ignoring of the spoken message. "Surrender" is perhaps the best only word that adequately describes my response to God's wake-up call to me.

2. The Holy Spirit is alive. And well. And shows up sometimes when nobody was even expecting Him.

I was camp staff at our denominational camp that summer, and during a prayer time with a bunch of other 15-17 year-olds, the Holy Spirit 'showed up' in an experience of God's love that everyone in the room was blown away by. Doubly miraculous was that our camp/denomination was legendary for it's staunch anti-charismatic bent.

(2b. God has a sense of humour about camps like that.)

3. Satan is not just a marketing tool for cheezy heavy metal bands. But Jesus is more powerful.

An unexpected spiritual attack - completely with visions of satanic imagery - came out of nowhere (as far as I could tell, anyway) and scared the liver out of me. But it turned out to be true what they say: in the name of Jesus, we have authority over evil spirits. Good news for those of us being attacked.

4. Spiritual leaders who are controlling, manipulative, and abusive are a royal pain in the patookus.

I learned this the hard way at the same summer camp; while not without my own issues, the harsh words of constant judgement and condemnation were total overkill. Almost cult-like, you might say. On the plus side, this was the first of many times where I began to learn how to sift through religious crap trappings to find the Pearl of Great Price.

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And as I look back over the ensuing span of years, I find (perhaps not surprisingly) that all of the above are as true today as they were when I was sixteen. If anything, I am more aware of the reality (and some of the implications) of each of those early Stones of Remembrance.

What Stones of Remembrance can you think of in your own spiritual journey?

Words

It seemed like a good idea at the time. My partner and I were doing the juvenile detention social worker equivalent of good cop, bad cop, in the "O.P." (out of program) room. Our companion in the room was an intensely agitated and violent teenager. Designed as a "cooling off" space, the O.P. room had no furnishings with the exception of a single mattress on the floor. It was stark and utilitarian, but a necessary room at times. This time around, however, Sheila wanted to be the 'bad cop', which left me in the role of the opposite.

Hoping to appear as non-threatening as possible, I had seated myself on the floor, opposite the 17-year-old who was pacing back and forth like a predatory lion. To my immediate right, a splash of bright red blood was smeared across the only door to the room, a result of the teenager pounding his fists repeatedly on the metal door.

Sheila hovered just next to the bloodied door, following my lead but ready to intervene at a moment's notice. Physical restraints, including the use of handcuffs in some instances, was an unpleasant but at times unavoidable part of doing our jobs.

My verbal attempts at de-escalation weren't having the effect I had hoped for; our main goal was that the teenager stop the self-inflicted violence, and ultimately, that he calm down enough to actually discuss what the issues were. Still seething as he contined to pace quickly back and forth, the teenager abruptly changed direction and lunged towards me. The folly of my seated-on-the-floor approach was instantly apparent, but the sudden actions of the teenager gave no time for me to adjust.

Leaning forward, fists clenched and with a wild expression of rage and implied violence, he shouted in my face, "I hate all of you! I could kill you! Don't you get it? I could kill you right now."

Without thinking about what I should say, I heard myself replying to him, "Maybe. And maybe not. If God has decided that it's my time to go, then I can't really stop you. But if it's not, then there's no way you could kill me. But that decision isn't up to you. It's up to God."

Sheila had swiftly moved just behind the teenager, poised and ready, although for some inexplicable reason (as she would later tell me), she held back against all of her training and instincts to tackle him before the situation escalated any further.

The teenager just stared at me for a several very long moments, breathing heavily, every muscle tense. His face reddened even further as he screamed at me, inches from my face: "I don't care! Do you hear me? I don't care what any of you say! I don't care if you hate my guts."

"I don't care if your eff-ing God hates me!"

Again, the words came without thought, as I looked into his blood-shot eyes, mere inches from my own, and I heard my voice saying: "One thing you can be absolutely sure of, is that God will never hate you. Nothing you have done, or will ever do, will stop God from loving you."

For what seemed an eternity, he stared silently, chest heaving.

It was in his eyes that I saw the change begin. His breathing slowed, and his taut body language relaxed. Slowly, without breaking eye contact with me, he began to back away. Coming up against the far wall, he slid down to the floor, his position oddly mirroring my own.

Lowering his gaze to the worn carpet, he exhaled deeply and simply said, "You guys don't have to stay. I'm good. I'm okay."

When Worlds Assumptions Collide

So, I've been thinking of getting a Doctoral Degree. Actually, it's been on my radar for the better part of a decade now. Specifically, I was thinking of the Doctor of Ministry degree, or the "D.Min" as it's called in the common tongue. One attractive aspect of this degree is that it is only available to those who are in full-time ministry work of some kind. It's not a degree for theoreticians, but for practitioners. As someone who has consistently resisted the "ivory tower", that appealed to me. (An Aside: Doing an image search for "d.min" yields some fascinating results.)

Recently, I have had a few people -- "out of the blue", as it were -- suggest that, as a writer, it would be beneficial for me to do a doctoral degree. The rationale from each of them was that a doctoral degree would lend added "legitimacy" to my written work. They are probably correct. (Did I mention that googling "d.min" offers some interesting and unexpected findings?)

But then there's the 'real life' aspect: in order to supplement our income as missionaries, I've had to take a job at a local grocery store. (Ironic aside: before I felt called to Bible college, I was an assistant manager in a small grocery store.) It's full-time: 40 hours per week. Everything else -- family, friends, church, writing, music, serving the poor in some capacity -- has to fit around the demands of my work schedule.

That's normal for most people. Welcome to life in Canada. But it also effectively prevents me from pursuing a doctorate.

Legal Disclaimer: NOT my actual place of employment

And when I have my head in the bottom of a dairy cooler, scraping out the congealed milk that has leaked out of less-than-perfect containers, two thoughts regularly occur to me: While not as disgusting as 45 pounds of maggots, this qualifies, in my mind, as learning how to practice the presence of God in an unglamorous, non-ministry setting Does a job like this actually give me more "street cred" as an author, rather than becoming "Dr. Robby"?

Torch the 8-Track

Full disclosure: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned an 8-Track. I was a totally hip dude with a cassette player in my car (the wave of the future). 8-Tracks were for relics who drove a Pacer or perhaps a Pinto.

In continuing with the previous post's musings on nostalgia, I realized the other day that I have a completely bipolar love/hate relationship with classic rock. Classic rock from the radio, of course, but even the "classic" era of Christian music (think: Larry Norman, Randy Stonehill, Keith Green).

It's fun to be reminded of earlier years. It can be challenging/invigorating to revisit early Christian albums (particularly Keith Green's) and recall the vibrancy of new-found faith. And because all songs are typically associated with memories of life, there is a fond nostalgia associated with hearing these songs again. (Except the Bay City Rollers singing "Saturday Night". Couldn't stand that one even when it was current.)

At the same time, "only the dead live in the past..."

I love this quote from John Fischer's classic True Believers Don't Ask Why":

"Faith is not a memory; it is a present-tense engagement with reality. Faith is unpleasant because it always asks you to do something you've never done before -- if not, it is not faith. Faith can only live when I've been stretched into a realm where I must act on what I believe without seeing it. "It takes no faith to dream about the past; that kind of dreaming slows down faith."

I think this may be the key for discerning the difference between forgetting the past, and getting back on track by revisiting our roots:

• Dreaming about the past is a dead-end.
  
• Remembering our roots to invigorate ourselves for whatever "walk by faith, not by sight" (2 Corinthians 5:7) step may be next is the way forward.

I will now go about my day, looking forward to whatever faith-dependent steps are before me. And crank up some Doobie Brothers as I go.

Only the Dead Live in the Past

Truth be told, I never owned one of these original Macintosh computers. Back then, only the über-trendy and financially well-endowed had a computer of any kind. Joining the ranks of computer-users later, after a brief and dubious flirtation with the Dark Side (Windows), I have been a dedicated Mac guy for 15+ years. But this is not about computer preferences (ouch: nerdy pun...).

I did have one of these during a dark period of my life known as the early 1980's. Much sanctification was squandered over this brain puzzle from hell. My solution to Rubik's Cube was the vigorous application of a sledgehammer. (One of life's guilty pleasures.) But this is not about silly brain teasers from the past.

It's about discerning the difference between the hamster-wheel trap of feel-good nostalgia, and weeding out the superfluous and getting back to what is truly important.


A friend of mine tweeted the following recently...

"Don't wanna relive the past as if it was the future and mistake nostalgia for anointing... here's to the journey." (David Ruis)

...which started me thinking.

On the one hand, it's true: living in the past is only for dead people. There are countless blogs and books that warn of the paralysis of living in the past. Getting stuck at a certain painful moment and never moving on. Retreating from a full engagement of the present (and thereby truncating the future) because "it was better back then".

But on the other hand, when people (small groups, churches, organizations, etc.) find themselves stuck in some fashion, one of the best ways to get unstuck is to revisit their roots/foundations, their original vision/goals, and figure out what got them off-track. And then deal with it, and get back on-track.

So, how do you figure out which it is? Is it a time to put the past firmly behind you, or instead, to do the hard work of rooting out whatever caused things to get off-track?

Even in Scripture, you can find examples where it seems that forgetting the past and moving on seems like the most spiritual thing to do: "But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 3:13-14) And of course, that perennially-quoted-in-charismatic-circles gem: "Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?" (Isaiah 43:18-19)

And there are also Scripture verses which clearly instruct/encourage us to get back on track: "You have forsaken the love you had at first. Consider how far you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first." (Revelation 2:4-5)

And the high-water-mark story of King Josiah; the guy who -- upon hearing the Covenant read for the first time in his life -- went to incredible lengths to get his entire nation back on track. (2 Kings 22 & 23)

The wrestle is simply that there is no one-size-fits-all answer. Only the dead live in the past, but only the foolish ignore their roots. Discerning how to live in that tension is one of life's more difficult learning curves.

I guess that's why they call it a 'journey'. If we didn't have the Holy Spirit to guide us (John 16:13-15), we'd be toast.

The Meaning of Fish/Detox

Me exhaling my vocal chords @ The Meaning of Fish CD release party (1998)
When I first felt God was saying "go back and do the things you did at first", part of that picture seemed to be returning to my musical roots. And by "roots", I mean playing in a bar band. Sort of like being salt-and-light in a melodious and odious subculture of artists.

A poster on the wall of a local music store in Winnipeg led to a phone call, which led to an audition, which led to playing in a band with the curious name of The Meaning of Fish.

This coincided with our earliest days in the Detoxing from Church journey, and it provided me with (a) a therapeutic outlet, (b) an opportunity to meet many creative and colourful individuals, and (c) to discover (usually by tripping over) some interesting nuggets:

• musicians live on a different internal clock than other people; "normal" things like inviting friends to church don't work very well
  
• there is a definite subculture, camaraderie, and social network that flies under the radar to most other people
  
• In Winnipeg -- and almost any other city, as I've learned in the years since -- there is a disproportionately large number of ex-church-goers playing in bar bands
  
• a significant number of these ex-church-goers were once pastors and worship leaders, or their (now adult) children
  
• everyone has a story; if you take the time to listen, it's amazing what you'll learn, and the impact you can have