I was in a black ocean at night. I could see, faintly, dimly. But the darkness was all around me; the waves lapping over my face as I tread water were black. It was very quiet. I knew Jesus was with me, but I could not see Him; nor did I know exactly where He was. Without using my eyes, I "saw" a group of sharks approaching. They did not belong here! They should not be! Jesus popped up out of the water beside me; He saw the sharks and was not concerned. He dove beneath the waves and grabbed my foot, pulling me under -
- in that split second, of breathing air and bobbing up and down with the ocean swells to suddenly being pulled under; I passed through some kind of invisible, intangible barrier.
We were in the heavens. In outer space. Standing in the Universe, in all its vastness. It was indescribable. The colours of the stars - reds, purples, greens, blues. White, of course, but so much more. The stars were arrayed in patterns. Some compact, some spread out; all by design, all beautiful, all glorious. And then I was made aware of the Father's hand. Father God was holding all this vastness in the palm of His hand. The entire Universe fit snugly, safely, and lovingly in Father's hand. I turned to look at Jesus, and this thought crossed my mind: "What are You standing on?" And Jesus laughed, and told me "All things are under My feet. I'm standing on whatever I want!"
I see Jesus hold up His hand. He raised it to His mouth and blows gently across His palm. Tiny glimmering stars waft out and away. They rise and then fall gently into their places - newly born stars. They immediately find their patterns and their colours blaze. They pulse with life. They are singing to God; praising Him and declaring His goodness and love. I take one more look around. Light, colours, patterns everywhere. All is good. Each star is in it's place; each part of the larger pattern; each pattern part of the diversity that is the Universe. Songs of praise being sung both in sound and in light. And perhaps in thought. Even now, back on earth, my spirit pulses in tune with the song of the stars.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
The Pearl of Great Price
from Matthew 13:45-46 "The Kingdom of Heaven (God's Kingdom, the place where He reigns and rules) is like (is being compared to, or is similiar in some way to) a merchant (a trader, a dealer, a buyer of precious jewels). This merchant is searching for fine pearls (precious, choice, excellent, goodly, good, beautiful pearls). And then he finds one. He finds the one: the pearl of great price. It is flawless, priceless; of exceedingly great value. The merchant immediately goes away and sells everything he has, all his possessions, all his wealth, in order to get it. And so he buys that pearl.
Without seeming to make more of myself that I ought to, I want to share with you, dear Reader, that God spoke to my heart and told me that I was His pearl of great price. And I cried, because how is it possible that God-His-very-own-Self could possibly think that highly of me? Yet I know it's true. For we are all made in the image of God; our true natures are mirrored in Him. As He is, so we are. Regardless of the state we're in, regardless of the dirt and grime that cover us and veil our true beauty - we are priceless to Him that made us. Priceless and of exceedingly great value. So much so, that He gave His life to purchase us from the grave.
One more quick thought about pearls (for why does the Bible speak of pearls and not some other precious gem?) -- pearls are made by irritants. The greater the trouble, the bigger and more beautiful the pearl becomes. Within the heart of every pearl is a seed of hardship. God promises great rewards to those who overcome. To those who don't let the trials of this life wear them down, but instead let the hardships shape them into a more perfect likeness of Jesus.
So let us all be pearls.
Without seeming to make more of myself that I ought to, I want to share with you, dear Reader, that God spoke to my heart and told me that I was His pearl of great price. And I cried, because how is it possible that God-His-very-own-Self could possibly think that highly of me? Yet I know it's true. For we are all made in the image of God; our true natures are mirrored in Him. As He is, so we are. Regardless of the state we're in, regardless of the dirt and grime that cover us and veil our true beauty - we are priceless to Him that made us. Priceless and of exceedingly great value. So much so, that He gave His life to purchase us from the grave.
One more quick thought about pearls (for why does the Bible speak of pearls and not some other precious gem?) -- pearls are made by irritants. The greater the trouble, the bigger and more beautiful the pearl becomes. Within the heart of every pearl is a seed of hardship. God promises great rewards to those who overcome. To those who don't let the trials of this life wear them down, but instead let the hardships shape them into a more perfect likeness of Jesus.
So let us all be pearls.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Lana & Cherie's Algonquin Adventure - Part 2
So, I told you about the killer portage, and the drive down, and our angel in disguise. The rest of this is pretty disjointed, so hang on as I change gears frequently.
Here is a song I wrote if any of you want to compose the music.
Sing to the Lord sweet praises
Offer them up as incense burning
Sing to the Lord with thanksgiving
Come to His throne and worship
Worthy is the Lamb
Worthy is the Lamb who was slain
Worthy is the Risen Lamb
Worthy is the Lamb
Sing to the Lord sweet praises
Worship Him with all your might
Sing to the Lord with rejoicing
Give Him all honour and glory and praise
Worthy is the Lord
Worthy is the Almighty One
Who was and is and is to come
Worthy is the Lord
This trip was different from all the others (of course); I'm still trying to process how different, exactly. Primarily it was a difference in my perception of God. I go to Algonquin to meet with Him. That may sound funny to some of you, and I don't mean to imply that God can only be found in the wilderness or that I only speak to Him once a year. What I mean, is that Algonquin is my personal mecca. Because I often go just by myself, I rely on God to look after me. Physically as well as spiritually. And this trip was different, maybe because I didn't have to search so hard to find Him.
My last night there, I had this dream:
I dreamed about a kingdom in trouble. My partner and I were there to help and we were to be given anything they could provide that would aid us. One eager young lady brought us a device that was used to make a straight line - to underline a book. It looked kind of like a giant paper press (seal) or a 3-ring paper punch. All metal; heavy and bulky. It even had a ruler, about 4 or 5 inches long, welded to the top. I asked the lady if a simple ruler wouldn't be easier and she agreed that it would, but there were none in the kingdom. I called for a servant, and gave directions for a metal ruler to be fashioned. I wanted it 12 inches long, 2 inches wide, and marked off into quarter inch segments. He left terrified and throughout the rest of my dream, I had an awareness of him and how his quest was transpiring. He'd gone to the blacksmith - who had said he could accomplish the making of this ruler, but now he was delaying and the servant was growing angry with him, and threatening him with the Queen. Meanwhile, back at the palace, we heard something loud approaching through the air. This was a medieval kingdom - it shouldn't have planes or helicopters! I looked through an open window, high up on the wall, and saw a small blimp. I think there was an elephant logo (a pink elephant, with tiny wings) on it's side. "They" (the bad guys from the neighbouring kingdom, who were making war against "our" kingdom) had somehow acquired this circus blimp and made it work. They flew over the courtyard and dropped a couple of large baskets or crates down - they split open upon landing and all kinds of treats came spilling out. I was aware that as they flew on, over the town area full of peasants and "common folk", they dropped more crates full of treats and treasures. So my partner and I checked out the things that had been dropped in our courtyard. One was full of ice cream - mango and peach and chocolate and others, in all kinds of tempting combinations, plus other goodies like pies and cakes and candies. I don't remember what was in the second basket. Not food. But maybe books or something that held knowledge we could benefit from. My partner was "in charge" of this second basket - exploring its contents. I went to the kitchen and started tasting all the ice creams. They were all delicious and I began to get carried away - pigging out - until my partner came and she tasted a few things. She agreed they were delicious, but she was focused on the second basket, and I went with her to ponder over that.
I also want to sing the praises of my tent. It's a solo tent by LL Bean and I simply love it. It was obviously designed by someone smart, someone who has actually camped, and is aware of what is needed in a tent. It's quite roomy inside, a large rectangle. With the rain fly on, you also have two large vestibules for your gear. Without the fly, you can look up at the stars through the mesh top. I'm going to check if they make a 2-man version!
My final account of our Adventure: the journey home. It rained all day. It rained while we were packing up. It rained all during the 3 hour portage, in the mud, with the mosquitoes, carrying everything ourselves. It rained during our canoeing back to the parking lot. The sun came out once we had the truck loaded. I want to remember this rain. How it came suddenly, fierce and hard. You couldn't look up during this squall - the rain hit your face and eyes and blinded you. I looked down, into the bottom of my canoe, and watched the water level rise. What is the purpose of all this rain, Lord? We are already wet. Soaked even. Saturated. All our stuff is wet, too. And now my canoe is filling up. This is really speaking to me, but I'm not sure exactly what the message is. And then I hear my Lord to say to me, "You are the rain, Cherie". This rain - this penetrating, soaking, relentless rain. This rain that doesn't give up, doesn't quit even after it has seemingly accomplished its purpose. This rain that pours out an abundant overflow. My Lord has equipped me to pour out His rain into the lives of His people, and not just into their lives, but into their spheres of influence, and even into their vehicles of ministry. Wow. You're so cool, God.
Here is a song I wrote if any of you want to compose the music.
Sing to the Lord sweet praises
Offer them up as incense burning
Sing to the Lord with thanksgiving
Come to His throne and worship
Worthy is the Lamb
Worthy is the Lamb who was slain
Worthy is the Risen Lamb
Worthy is the Lamb
Sing to the Lord sweet praises
Worship Him with all your might
Sing to the Lord with rejoicing
Give Him all honour and glory and praise
Worthy is the Lord
Worthy is the Almighty One
Who was and is and is to come
Worthy is the Lord
This trip was different from all the others (of course); I'm still trying to process how different, exactly. Primarily it was a difference in my perception of God. I go to Algonquin to meet with Him. That may sound funny to some of you, and I don't mean to imply that God can only be found in the wilderness or that I only speak to Him once a year. What I mean, is that Algonquin is my personal mecca. Because I often go just by myself, I rely on God to look after me. Physically as well as spiritually. And this trip was different, maybe because I didn't have to search so hard to find Him.
My last night there, I had this dream:
I dreamed about a kingdom in trouble. My partner and I were there to help and we were to be given anything they could provide that would aid us. One eager young lady brought us a device that was used to make a straight line - to underline a book. It looked kind of like a giant paper press (seal) or a 3-ring paper punch. All metal; heavy and bulky. It even had a ruler, about 4 or 5 inches long, welded to the top. I asked the lady if a simple ruler wouldn't be easier and she agreed that it would, but there were none in the kingdom. I called for a servant, and gave directions for a metal ruler to be fashioned. I wanted it 12 inches long, 2 inches wide, and marked off into quarter inch segments. He left terrified and throughout the rest of my dream, I had an awareness of him and how his quest was transpiring. He'd gone to the blacksmith - who had said he could accomplish the making of this ruler, but now he was delaying and the servant was growing angry with him, and threatening him with the Queen. Meanwhile, back at the palace, we heard something loud approaching through the air. This was a medieval kingdom - it shouldn't have planes or helicopters! I looked through an open window, high up on the wall, and saw a small blimp. I think there was an elephant logo (a pink elephant, with tiny wings) on it's side. "They" (the bad guys from the neighbouring kingdom, who were making war against "our" kingdom) had somehow acquired this circus blimp and made it work. They flew over the courtyard and dropped a couple of large baskets or crates down - they split open upon landing and all kinds of treats came spilling out. I was aware that as they flew on, over the town area full of peasants and "common folk", they dropped more crates full of treats and treasures. So my partner and I checked out the things that had been dropped in our courtyard. One was full of ice cream - mango and peach and chocolate and others, in all kinds of tempting combinations, plus other goodies like pies and cakes and candies. I don't remember what was in the second basket. Not food. But maybe books or something that held knowledge we could benefit from. My partner was "in charge" of this second basket - exploring its contents. I went to the kitchen and started tasting all the ice creams. They were all delicious and I began to get carried away - pigging out - until my partner came and she tasted a few things. She agreed they were delicious, but she was focused on the second basket, and I went with her to ponder over that.
I also want to sing the praises of my tent. It's a solo tent by LL Bean and I simply love it. It was obviously designed by someone smart, someone who has actually camped, and is aware of what is needed in a tent. It's quite roomy inside, a large rectangle. With the rain fly on, you also have two large vestibules for your gear. Without the fly, you can look up at the stars through the mesh top. I'm going to check if they make a 2-man version!
My final account of our Adventure: the journey home. It rained all day. It rained while we were packing up. It rained all during the 3 hour portage, in the mud, with the mosquitoes, carrying everything ourselves. It rained during our canoeing back to the parking lot. The sun came out once we had the truck loaded. I want to remember this rain. How it came suddenly, fierce and hard. You couldn't look up during this squall - the rain hit your face and eyes and blinded you. I looked down, into the bottom of my canoe, and watched the water level rise. What is the purpose of all this rain, Lord? We are already wet. Soaked even. Saturated. All our stuff is wet, too. And now my canoe is filling up. This is really speaking to me, but I'm not sure exactly what the message is. And then I hear my Lord to say to me, "You are the rain, Cherie". This rain - this penetrating, soaking, relentless rain. This rain that doesn't give up, doesn't quit even after it has seemingly accomplished its purpose. This rain that pours out an abundant overflow. My Lord has equipped me to pour out His rain into the lives of His people, and not just into their lives, but into their spheres of influence, and even into their vehicles of ministry. Wow. You're so cool, God.
Lana & Cherie's Algonquin Adventure
The first account is for any would-be adventurers who want to know things like how long does it take and what not to bring. This was my 7th trip to Algonquin and I learn something new every time. The most important thing I learned on this trip was to never, ever, do the portage to Casey Lake again! It looks so innocent on the map. I even hiked it 2 years ago and I didn't think it was that bad. But hiking it for fun and trekking it back and forth as a portage are two entirely different things. This was brutal. Insanity. Forget winning a million dollars in the lottery - I want teleportation ability. I want magic to make things float in the air. I want super strength and super speed. I want this horrid portage to be over!
The second thing I learned is that Lana Plank is the most wonderful person on the planet. I literally begged her to come with me on this trip (Dean was unable to go at the last minute) and she had no idea what she was getting herself into. The closest she ever came to complaining was to ask me if I knew how difficult this portage was when I planned the trip. So pick your companions wisely, or in my case, have God pick them for you - because He certainly was the One who sent Lana to me in the eleventh hour. (Lana may have a completely different perspective on all this and it will be interesting to read her account of our adventures!)
Now to wrap up the practical details: Brantford to Kearney with 2 pee breaks and a gas fill-up = 4 hours. Kearney to Rain Lake = 45 minutes. From the parking lot at Rain Lake to the put-in at the portage to Casey Lake = 1 hour. Don't bring an axe, but do bring a saw. Don't skimp on bug spray. Don't, under any circumstances, put nails in a living tree. (The sap runs down over everything and is very, very sticky!)
And now for the personal account. The first thing I want to talk about is the scariest time of the entire trip: it was during the drive up. Lana and I had both been awake for 24 hours and she asked me to drive. Of course I agreed and so I turn the music up a little and make sure the car is not too warm. There is very little traffic. I'm driving in a state so close to sleep. It's hard to describe. I knew if I was singing along to the CD then I was awake, but if I stopped singing, I couldn't prove to myself whether I was awake or not. The length of time my eyes stayed closed when I blinked was getting longer and longer. I really wanted to be alert but wanting and doing were entirely seperate. After only half an hour or so, I pulled off the highway and told Lana I was sorry but I just couldn't drive any more. The sensation of falling asleep despite my resolve and determination not to, is a sensation I never want to experience again.
And now an ode to Peter, our guardian angel, who - if he ever reads this blog - will no doubt be embarrassed by our ebullient gratitude. Peter - the strong one! Peter - the kind one! Peter who shows kindness to strangers! Blessings on Peter! May all his portages be smooth! May all his campsites be dry! We salute you, Peter!
Now, if you are wondering what on earth that was all about - I will tell you. So, Lana and I are on this killer, brutal, insane portage. We are exhausted from no sleep. We are worn out from the drive and from paddling across Rain Lake. We have shlepped almost everything to the other side except for the food barrel and a pack and the canoe. We've tried carrying the canoe together, and it didn't work very well. We are just too tired. All our muscles are crying out for oxygen. It feels like we've been on this track for days. I sit down beside the path and just breathe for awhile. (If you ever come to my house and see a little sign that says "breathe", now you will know why). Lana is too tired to sit down. She just stands there for a minute, then, when she realizes I am not getting up, joins me, and she sprawls out on the path. We lay there for a time. Breathing. Wondering if all of this is just a dream and pretty soon we will wake up and start our trip - this time with easy portages. This is the state we're in when Peter and his two young sons show up. They are unencumbered. They are simply hiking this trail for the fun of it. Without us having to ask (beg if needed), Peter offers to help us - to carry our canoe. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Whether he knew it or not, this man (was he really a man? or perhaps an angel in disguise?) is an answer to prayer! Thank You, God, for sending us Peter! So, Peter picks up the canoe and heads off down the trail with his two little boys; and now, refreshed by the kindness of a stranger, Lana and I heave the packs onto our weary backs and trudge the remainder of the way (all uphill, except for the very end, where there is a very steep incline down to the water's edge). The first glimpse of the waters of Casey Lake are the gladdest sight I've ever seen. And there is the canoe, floating serenely in the water, tied securely to a tree. Where is our angel? Oh - there he is. I honestly would not have been surprised to find him disappeared. We thanked him over and over; blessed him over and over. Could we have completed this portage without his help? I guess we would have had to, but oh! Thank God we didn't have to!! So, please accept my heartfelt Ode, wherever you may be, Peter.
The second thing I learned is that Lana Plank is the most wonderful person on the planet. I literally begged her to come with me on this trip (Dean was unable to go at the last minute) and she had no idea what she was getting herself into. The closest she ever came to complaining was to ask me if I knew how difficult this portage was when I planned the trip. So pick your companions wisely, or in my case, have God pick them for you - because He certainly was the One who sent Lana to me in the eleventh hour. (Lana may have a completely different perspective on all this and it will be interesting to read her account of our adventures!)
Now to wrap up the practical details: Brantford to Kearney with 2 pee breaks and a gas fill-up = 4 hours. Kearney to Rain Lake = 45 minutes. From the parking lot at Rain Lake to the put-in at the portage to Casey Lake = 1 hour. Don't bring an axe, but do bring a saw. Don't skimp on bug spray. Don't, under any circumstances, put nails in a living tree. (The sap runs down over everything and is very, very sticky!)
And now for the personal account. The first thing I want to talk about is the scariest time of the entire trip: it was during the drive up. Lana and I had both been awake for 24 hours and she asked me to drive. Of course I agreed and so I turn the music up a little and make sure the car is not too warm. There is very little traffic. I'm driving in a state so close to sleep. It's hard to describe. I knew if I was singing along to the CD then I was awake, but if I stopped singing, I couldn't prove to myself whether I was awake or not. The length of time my eyes stayed closed when I blinked was getting longer and longer. I really wanted to be alert but wanting and doing were entirely seperate. After only half an hour or so, I pulled off the highway and told Lana I was sorry but I just couldn't drive any more. The sensation of falling asleep despite my resolve and determination not to, is a sensation I never want to experience again.
And now an ode to Peter, our guardian angel, who - if he ever reads this blog - will no doubt be embarrassed by our ebullient gratitude. Peter - the strong one! Peter - the kind one! Peter who shows kindness to strangers! Blessings on Peter! May all his portages be smooth! May all his campsites be dry! We salute you, Peter!
Now, if you are wondering what on earth that was all about - I will tell you. So, Lana and I are on this killer, brutal, insane portage. We are exhausted from no sleep. We are worn out from the drive and from paddling across Rain Lake. We have shlepped almost everything to the other side except for the food barrel and a pack and the canoe. We've tried carrying the canoe together, and it didn't work very well. We are just too tired. All our muscles are crying out for oxygen. It feels like we've been on this track for days. I sit down beside the path and just breathe for awhile. (If you ever come to my house and see a little sign that says "breathe", now you will know why). Lana is too tired to sit down. She just stands there for a minute, then, when she realizes I am not getting up, joins me, and she sprawls out on the path. We lay there for a time. Breathing. Wondering if all of this is just a dream and pretty soon we will wake up and start our trip - this time with easy portages. This is the state we're in when Peter and his two young sons show up. They are unencumbered. They are simply hiking this trail for the fun of it. Without us having to ask (beg if needed), Peter offers to help us - to carry our canoe. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Whether he knew it or not, this man (was he really a man? or perhaps an angel in disguise?) is an answer to prayer! Thank You, God, for sending us Peter! So, Peter picks up the canoe and heads off down the trail with his two little boys; and now, refreshed by the kindness of a stranger, Lana and I heave the packs onto our weary backs and trudge the remainder of the way (all uphill, except for the very end, where there is a very steep incline down to the water's edge). The first glimpse of the waters of Casey Lake are the gladdest sight I've ever seen. And there is the canoe, floating serenely in the water, tied securely to a tree. Where is our angel? Oh - there he is. I honestly would not have been surprised to find him disappeared. We thanked him over and over; blessed him over and over. Could we have completed this portage without his help? I guess we would have had to, but oh! Thank God we didn't have to!! So, please accept my heartfelt Ode, wherever you may be, Peter.
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