Pastor's Keyboard

Today is Father’s Day. With us having moved from Abbotsford to Grimsby along with several teen agers, I was reminded of my father who moved from the Netherlands to Canada, at the age of 19. He had an older sister, and four younger brothers. He was not the only 19 year old who moved in his day, as there were hundreds, if not thousands of young people who immigrated with their parents, at that time, looking for a new start after the devastations of World War II. As well as moving with their families, they integrated into church communities where so many others were in similar situations in life. The same can be said for people who move today. As well as moving children and families, many will also move into new church homes. There was a faithfulness which my father lived, towards the body of Christ. He attends church every Sunday, and not just once, but twice. He always let his name stand, and consistently finished his three year term, only to let his name stand once again, to or three years later. When Belleville Christian Reformed Church was ready to build the sanctuary on top of the basement in which they met, my dad volunteered to design and build the Sanctuary lights. Using a giant press, he bent tin sheets into triangular spheres, with light shining out of the top, as well as from the bottom and through drilled holes lining the triangular exterior. Long after the building was sold to another church fellowship group, those lights still shine today. They are sort of like my dad, who has not served on council for some years now. Council gave him what he calls the best job in the house. Whenever the congregation has communion, mom and dad will visit those who are no longer able to come to church and share the Lord’s Supper with them in their rooms. It’s his way of sharing in the body of Christ. To this day, he claims he has the best job in the church. People are still going through transitions, still moving from one place to another, and what remains constant is the body of Christ. Now that’s what I see as the light of Christ still shining in and through my dad. I’ll call him up some time this weekend and tell him again “I love you dad, and thanks for shining the light of Christ in our family, in the church and throughout his kingdom, in everything you did. Happy Father’s Day dad. Pastor Sid

It was foggy several times this week. I was amazed at how thick the fog was driving on top of the “mountain,” above the escarpment. It brought back memories of living in the Lower Mainland of British Columbia. There were periods of days that lingered on in the fog, where it would simply not lift. It would be sunny in Chilliwack, or Abbotsford, but in the City of Langley and Surrey and down on into Vancouver, the fog would never lift. News casts would aggravate the situation by climbing Grouse Mountain and showing pictures of beautiful warm blue skies that gave a huge panoramic view of the Georgian Straight. It would only be Vancouver and the lower mainland that would be socked in. I can remember driving through the mountains during a drizzle, where clouds covered the peaks and all we were able to see was the road. Fog has a way of limiting our vision. It makes me wonder about those who go through life without being able to see God, without being able to acknowledge the person of Jesus, without being able to experience the grace of the Holy Spirit. This is most evident during times of crises, when there is a loss of job, when health begins to deteriorate, when someone is abandoned in love, or when a loved one passes away. Grief has its own way of casting a fog in most people’s life, but even in the midst of the fog, there is an awareness of God, a humble awareness of the presence of Jesus and a gentle reminder of the Holy Spirit’s presence. While it may be dizzying, there is this constant reminder that the sun is just beyond the cloud and that better days will indeed come. Fog limits vision, but the word of the Lord has a way of penetrating the thickest of clouds, giving us a continued glimpse of hope and light. Pastor Sid

Did we ever get a lot of rain this past week! The ditches and creeks swelled as the fields were drenched. We have been used to a lot of rain living in the Lower Mainland of British Columbia. We would have what they called the “pineapple express,” which was a warm wind coming South from Hawaii, lifting up moisture from the Pacific and drenching the “wet coast,” with an incredible amount of rain. What was different was the thunderstorm. I remember thunderstorms as a child, and revelling in their power and shake while huddling in a tent. We did not experience many thunderstorms out West, and I forgot about the movement of the storm. It starts off with single drips falling here and there, then gently rolling into a waking pitterpatter beat. There is usually early evidence of flashing light in the distance, or a low growling rumble. As the rain increases, so does the volume of the thunder, the intensity of the lightning followed by some wind. There is no mistaking when the conflicting clouds are directly above, with a crackling bolt marking its presence on some nearby peak. Then the rumblings get quieter, the rain begins to subside, the lightning strikes are further away, and the gentle pitter-patter returns, until the only drips that one can hear are the ones that are still falling off the branches and leaves and trees. There is a symphony sound with storms that have a way of soothing me back to sleep. While the body’s energy is being renewed and restored, the rain is doing the same to seeds just planted, and fields readily ploughed. “He waters the mountains from his upper chambers; the earth is satisfied by the fruit of his work. He makes grass grow for the cattle, and plants for man to cultivate- bringing forth food from the earth: Wine that gladdens the heart of man, oil to make his face shine, and bread that sustains his heartR Praise the Lord, O my Soul, Praise the Lord.” Ps.104 Pastor Sid

Last weekend 900 young people and their leaders gathered at the Sir Wilfrid Laurier University in Waterloo for the All Ontario Young People’s Convention, where they found their spiritual walk with the Lord challenged, where prayers were answered and the presence of the Lord experienced in a very concentrated manner. Rather than using the May long weekend as an out door party announcing the arrival of summer, these young people were invited to experience a “Pentecost like” event, where the Holy Spirit was invited into the hearts of many. On Sunday morning, they joined with Christian Reformed Churches all across North America, in the singing of “Christ Alone,” as a voice of solidarity with the Christian Reformed Church in Ancaster, Ontario, which was grieving the loss of one of their sons, thirty two year old Tim Bosma. Funeral arrangments were made for Wednesday, May 22nd, at the Carmen Convention Centre in Stoney Creek, where there was standing room only. Television cameras were seen all over the parking lot, as the service was televised live on CHCH television. The Banquet hall was packed with standing room only. The Province of Ontario, and the imagination of a nation was captured in the tragic story of an average young man being kidnapped and killed for the price of his truck. The gospel was proclaimed, prayers for people everywhere to open their hearts to God’s goodness and grace were lifted up. People left the service knowing a whole lot more about Tim Bosma when they came in. Most profound were the speeches given by family members, who were not caught in their own grief, but able to speak compassionate truth and expose the reality of life everlasting that comes after death, with faith in Jesus. That kind of faith, knowledge and understanding has a way of blunting death’s sting. The good news of faith in Jesus was presented in a most raw confrontation between life and death, with the goodness of God winning out. This was a Pentecost weekend that truly celebrated the first fruits of God’s grace in a very public way. Pastor Sid

Many of you have experienced similar transitions. Last Friday Sue and I loaded a trailer with some furniture, boxes and books, left over clothing and cleaning supplies and drove out to Waterloo, to help our son Nathanael move. He was able to land a small upstairs three room apartment for himself and his new bride. We spent the afternoon cleaning cupboards, scrubbing bathrooms, washing floors, and sweeping a patio to make the place his own. On Tuesday this week, Sue drove with Nathanael out to Dordt College, where he would continue his journey on to Modesto, California, with his bride to be. Both Sue and Nathanael were able to catch Lindsay’s “pinning” as a nurse as well as graduation from Dordt College on Friday. Sue came back with some of Lindsay’s stuff, plus our two sons, Ryan and Tyler, who are home for the summer. Then on Tuesday, the five of us, including Monika, will be flying out of Toronto, to San Francisco, on our way to Modesto, California for the wedding of our second son Nathanael Peter, to Lindsay Hannink, on Saturday, May 18th. We will be gone from Tuesday, May 14th through to Monday, May 20th, of the long weekend. We’ll be coming back from San Francisco to Buffalo. It will make for a very busy and exciting week of vacation, with family and friends coming from all over. Nathanael and Lindsay plan to live in Waterloo as Nathan continues to study for his Masters of Engineering at the University of Waterloo. Cleaning the bath tub, and washing down the outside patio tin roof was somewhat therapeutic for both Sue and I, as together we worked hard to improve a new place of living and love for our kids. As we cleaned out our own home with more of his stuff, a new nest was in the process of being built. It kind of fits the theme of the coming of spring. Our prayer is that the Lord may bless their new home too.” Pastor Sid

The words that came to mind were; “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine” Last week I wrote about the joy I find walking down to Forty Mile Creek several times a week. This time of the year I find myself going almost every day. I always take a pair of binoculars and Sue’s camera. Last week I wrote of hoping to see a Baltimore oriole this summer. I was walking along side the bowling alley and there on top of a tree was a beautiful Baltimore oriole. It was Monday’s gift that totally filled my heart. Sue and I came across a great white Egret. They are like a great blue heron only pure white, with long black legs and a big straight yellow beak. I returned after supper only to catch the bird wading in the calm waters. I was able to take pictures in pairs, playing with reflections on the water. I snuck behind trees and watched this large white bird use its wings to gracefully hop over stumps and fallen down trees, pausing for a pose, and gently make its way back down towards the water, looking for more food. I had never seen a great white egret in forty mile creek and it was immeasurably more than what I could have asked for. I walked down to the mouth of the river again, and a friend pointed out that alongside the large Caspian terns, were some Common terns. The Caspian tern has a large sharp orange beak with black feet, and some black feathers underneath the wings, where as the Common tern half the size has a sharp orange beak that turns black at the end, and bright orange feet. Here I was, less than a week later, finding three new birds, more than what I asked for, let alone imagine, and that’s just a few birds. It makes me think of meeting two or three people whose hearts are yearning to come clean with God, or four or five people wanting to belong to a body of believers like Mountainview. “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen” Pastor Sid

Now is the time to stop and listen. Take a look. You will only be able to see what’s going on all around you for a few more weeks. Listen to the song birds open the morning spring. Robins and Cardinals and Sparrows and Red Wings Blackbirds combine for a symphony of sound that no orchestra can produce. Watch closely and you’ll see tufts of grass in beaks as they scout out the neighbourhood looking for places to build their nests. This past week I walked down Forty Mile creek and spotted the return of the black crowned night heron. She stands about a foot and a half to two feet tall, has an all white belly, with greyish blue wings and three inch hard blue beak. I went a couple of days later and found the greyer male counterpart, with three white strands of feather tuft blowing in the wind each about twelve inches long. It made me wonder where these two spent the winter months in the Southern States or further South into Mexico. The mouth of the creek empties into Lake Ontario where there were scraping cries coming from a group of Royal Terns. They too are black and white with sharp deep orange beaks. There is excitement in the air as the birds pair up to make their nest and prepare to lay their eggs. The trees are beginning to once again show life, with buds and blossoms and new blooms appearing on branches. Leaves cannot be far behind and once the leaves come, the birds are hidden from sight. I hope to welcome the Green Back Herons back to Forty Mile creek too. One bird I really look forward to seeing this year will be the Baltimore Oriole. The contrasting colours of orange and black make for a startling sight up against the green back drop of leaves. Spring is a wonderful time of the year that not only pushes up flowers and blossoms and fruit tree blooms. It also brings feathered friends who have been vacationing down south back into our lives. Do take time to stop and listen. Pastor Sid

This past week began with two bombs going off at the finish line while the Boston Marathon was still in progress. Twenty seven thousand people were running along the route, with tens of thousands of people along the entire forty-two kilometre route, cheering on their loved ones. The Boston Marathon is the one race that most long distance runners attempt at running one time in their life. It’s so popular that one needs to qualify for the race under a certain age category. Most everyone that signs up for a marathon trains for months ahead of time, if not years. I sing with a fellow in men’s chorus who runs in St. Catharines three times a week. Five of the guys who he runs with were running in the Boston Marathon on Monday. He was glued to the television, looking to see if he would be able to catch a glimpse of his friends. The bomb went off at 4 hours and 9 minutes into the race, when a great number would be passing through. I’ve run the Vancouver Marathon on four occasions and the first time I ran I came in at 4 hours and 9 minutes. Each time I ran, I remember the finish line filled with people three, four, five, some times 10 deep. Watching the bomb go off time and again was horrific, killing 3, maiming so many more. I found myself surprised that the death toll was not higher and the injury toll more destructive. It appeared that not one runner was injured in the actual attack. And yet, the senseless attack seems to have hit us all, reminding us of senseless violence around the globe. I’m reminded of Paul’s words, comparing his life to someone running a race, of which we are all a part, the human race. And it was Jesus who entered that same race, and died at the finish line, so that our lives might continue to run. That almost makes a Marathon sound like a jog to the front door. May violence and terror not diminish our call to run the race in love, with Jesus at our side. Pastor Sid

I am so ready for the warmth of spring. While we were in the cold, I enjoyed the cold. But we know what’s coming and our beings are filled with anticipation. We were glad with the snow, and the snow has long since left. Now it’s time for green. This spirit of being “so ready,” is one often experienced in life. When a mother is eight and a half months pregnant, she is so ready to have this child. Children going to school are often so ready for recess. Young people attending high school are so ready for summer holidays. Somehow, the Lord seems to have a way of preparing us for the next stages of life. Often couples courting are so ready to get married. Young couples recently married are so ready to begin a family. Last weekend Sue and I were able to fly out to British Columbia to participate in the funeral of a dear friend. She was struggling with the affects of breast cancer and did everything to fight against the affects of that horrific disease. The last number of weeks and months were most difficult for everyone involved. And yet, they were also most rewarding. There was a point where prayers began to change. She no longer prayed for healing because the suffering in her journey had become so intense. There came a point in her journey where she was so ready to leave this earth of sorrow and grief and be joined with her Lord in a new heaven and a new earth. It’s kind of like spring, where snow drops and crocuses begin poking out their heads. There are those who have travelled so many springs and who have watched life come and go with so many, that they too find themselves ready to leave this earth. I marvel at how the Lord prepares our hearts for the changing of the seasons. Song birds are already announcing its coming. I for one am so ready for the warmth of spring. Pastor Sid

We have celebrated Good Friday and Easter and we now set our sights for the Ascension of Jesus and Pentecost. Ascension is celebrated 40 days after Easter, and Pentecost, 50 days after Easter. During the next seven weeks we as a congregation will look to the book of Acts, which was also written by Luke. The theme of the new series of sermons is called THE BIG CHURCH. I understand Mountainview has a little reputation of being called “THE BIG CHURCH.” I even heard someone call it “the Taj Mahal. The Taj Mahal is one of the finest examples of Mughal Architecture, the jewel of Muslim Art in India. It combines Islamic, Persian, Ottoman Turkish and Indian architecture all in one piece. To everyone’s amazement, it was built in 1632-1653, as a memorial for Shah Jahan’s third wife. The Taj Majal is a Mausoleum. And these are the words that Shah Jahan wrote to accompany this magnificent structure; “Should guilty seek asylum here, Like one pardoned, he becomes free from sin. Should a sinner make his way to this mansion, all his past sins are to be washed away. The sight of this mansion creates sorrowing sighs; And the sun and the moon shed tears from their eyes. In this world this edifice has been made; To display thereby the creator’s glory. The Taj This building is only 13 years old, and was certainly not designed and built as a Mausoleum. Yes, it has a cross on its tallest peak, but “we do not come looking for the dead among the living. He is not here! He has Risen!” Like The Taj, we also believe that anyone who comes here can find themselves pardoned. He or she becomes freed from sin. But it’s not the building. During the next seven weeks we will explore the book of Acts as Luke reveals THE BIG CHURCH. On April 14th, we’ll be looking at the church on Opening Day, in Acts 2. On April 21st, we’ll look at The Big Church and Big Prayers. On April 28th, we look at the Big Church being Big and Bold. On May 12th we will explore The Big Church and The Big Audience. On May 26th, we’ll look at the Big Church and the Big Drift, from Acts 15. On June 2nd, we’ll look at the Big Church and Big Answers. And finally, on June 16th: we’ll look at the Big Church and Big Opportunities. We pray that in the weeks to come, Jesus might be preparing our hearts in little ways for big things that he might want to accomplish in and through us. Pastor Sid.

I visited with Harold and Donna Feddema this past week. The night before, I met with their daughter Elise, who continues to make preparations for her wedding with Mitch Snippe. Mitch and Elise are planning to get married in two weeks, at the Country Heritage Park barn in Milton Ontario, Friday, April 12th at 5:30 p.m. The Feddemas are looking forward to celebrating this special occasion yet find themselves still deeply wrapped in grief. It has not even been a year since their daughter Chelsea was tragically killed while riding a horse. Each passing day pulls them further away from the time that she was still alive, still with them as a family, still here on this earth in her vibrant personality and presence. Each week that passes confirms the horror that she is no longer here. Last weekend Harold and Donna were invited to the opening of a new ministry center for Rose City Kids in Welland, where they named the building after Chelsea. In the presentation they unveiled a large picture of their beautiful daughter and appropriate words were spoken and written underneath. While being honoured, they were confronted with the reality that it’s still true. Chelsea is really gone! So many tears have been shed and shared between the two of them, often feeling like they are in such different places than everyone else. Even while surrounded by family members and close friends, the word “alien” comes to mind, a different place than everyone else, while still cherishing and needing family and close friends. Grief runs so deep. Hanging on one of their walls is a quote from a holocaust survivor which says “I believe in the sun even when it’s not shining. I believe in love even when I don’t feel it. I believe in God even when he remains silent.” Today would have marked Chelsea’s 24th birthday. She was born on March 31st 1989 and in all her years only once did her birthday land on Easter. Today, less than a year after her passing, her birthday just happens to land on Easter Sunday. The day is received as bitter sweet. It comes with horror and hope. It comes with sorrow and sadness while celebrating the resurrection of the body and life everlasting. In the midst o f the harsh realities of grief comes the gift of an Easter Sunday, landing on the birthday of a daughter, grand daughter, a girlfriend and close friend of many, dearly missed. Chelsea has gone before us, to a place we all hope to be, in the presence of our resurrected Lord and Saviour, where there is no more sorrow, suffering, tears and death. Happy Easter Chelsea, happy Easter. Pastor Sid

This afternoon will be a celebrative farewell for Ryan and Amanda VanGeest, as they prepare to once again leave for Mongolia and continue their ministry through Mission Aviation Fellowship. A number of church families have been invited to join us, including Fruitland, Smithville, Fenwick, Beamsville, and Jubilee C.R.C., Lakemount and Forestview, Centennial Baptist, and Cumberland Pentecostal Church in Hamilton. The offering will go towards supporting the VanGeests in their mission work. They are tremendously grateful for the amazing support which they have already received and are in need of $1000.00 a month more in pledges, to make it feasible for them to return. We have also invited the third Mongolian family, whose son has already undergone open heart surgery, and is staying with the DeGraaf family, to join us. We have invited this second translator to say a few words in our service as well. This past week Ryan and Amanda learned of one more child who will be needing open heart surgery. The family is expected to arrive in early April and they are once again looking for a host family. Please contact Ryan VanGeest if you think you are able to help. The Outreach Committee has been working hard on preparing a farewell meal for them, where everyone will be invited to join. As it turns out, the only feasible date left on the calendar was Sunday following the afternoon service. So here is the invitation, to come and join us in our Sunday afternoon service of worship and plan to stay for supper as well. I for one can say that my eyes have been opened to the nation of Mongolia, and the amazing ministry that God is doing, changing lives in the name of Jesus, through the power of his Holy Spirit. Through Ryan and Amanda, Mountainview Christian Reformed Church has been given front row seats. Pastor Sid

We went back to Belleville one more time for a final clean out of the family home. Mom and dad have settled in nicely into a two bedroom apartment in a seniors’ complex. We came towing a trailer to retrieve some stuff. What we thought was an empty house, still had lots of stuff in it. The back shed had to be emptied, along with the garage. Everything had to come out of Dad’s workbench area and mom’s laundry space. Fifty-two years of gathering, living, working, collecting and cleaning, gathers a lot of stuff. Garbage bags began to pile. Knick knacks and souvenir stories lost their luster. Old books and magazines that were too good to be tossed, were now good enough to be tossed. There was still so much stuff. I noticed my siblings slipping memories and meaningful furniture in their vehicles, but our trailer did not come back empty, and neither did the back of our van. We too were loaded. The rooms were being vacuumed and wiped and cleaned one by one, with the door being shut behind them. Lunch was eaten on the living room and dining room floor. I can’t remember being in the carpeted living room with my shoes on, but they stayed on that day. I took one more trip down to the creek and said “good-bye creek.” I passed the well half way up the hill and said “thank-you” well. I walked by the garden and said “thanks garden” and that’s when a tear came into my eye, remembering planting potatoes with my dad, weeding with my siblings and the magical moment of harvesting the dead plants and finding five, six, seven or eight potatoes buried underneath. “Goodbye” garden. I went down stairs into my “teen-age” bedroom and said “Good bye bedroom. And when the house was finally emptied and cleaned, we found ourselves standing in a circle, holding hands, and simply giving thanks to God for a place that we were able to call home for fifty-two years. We also prayed a word of blessing on the home for the next family that would move in at the end of the month, a young family with six children. We were able to do that, because that’s what our God does. It’s something that we certainly experienced in the home on Avonlaugh Road. Thank you Lord, for places we are able to call home. Pastor Sid

While we were sleeping, the time supposedly changed. I’m always a little nervous this time of the year wondering who will forget, afraid that I will forget, and show up an hour late. Every year there were one or two people who showed up at church, wondering why the parking lot was so empty. In our previous congregation we had a man who collected clocks and was proud to tell you that on any given day, he would have 70 clocks ticking in his home at once. It was during the fall season, when we set our clocks ahead that he showed up for church when it was almost finished. I watched him standing in the back of church near the end of my sermon, looking perplexed. After the service I shook his hand and asked him if he was late because he had so many clocks to reset. We had a pretty good laugh. It was a little darker when we woke up this morning, and tonight the sun will be setting past 7:00 p.m. It feels like we’ve walked from winter into spring. We now have an evening that will include some daylight. I distinctly remember how delightful it was to be able to play outside after supper as a child, because there was light. Along with the added light will come increased temperatures. Along with warmer temperatures come more songs in the air. Birds will begin to trumpet the coming of spring with a chorus of music that no symphony or band is ever able to duplicate. Last night we may have lost an hour, but the day somehow seems longer. We lost an hour, but we’ve gained a spring. May you find joy in the hour that you lost. Pastor Sid

Last month, on Friday, February 8th, Dr. John B. Hulst, the second President of Dordt College died. He was 83 years old. He was ordained in the Christian Reformed Church in 1954 and became professor of theology at Dordt in 1968. He would eventually become the campus pastor and Dean of Students when I first met him in 1978. Six weeks into my Junior year at Dordt, I was diagnosed with a tumour inside my small and large intestine. I returned from the doctors’ office after having seen the X-ray and made Dr.Hulst’s office my first stop. I told him what the doctors discovered and said that I would need to be going home. He shared with me his experience of contracting polio at a young age and prayed with me that morning. After a year of operations, cancer treatments and checkups, I was able to return to campus, where Dr. Hulst, along with so many others, welcomed me back. Last October Sue and I visited Dordt College on parents weekend and were staying at the same hotel as the Hulsts, which allowed us to have breakfast together. Dr. John shared with me there that I always seemed as a son to him through all the years. Each time we would see each other and connect at one function or another, his first question would always be “How is your health?” And I said the feeling was mutual, as I found myself drawn to his gentle, pastoral, fatherly care. Dr. Hulst served as Dordt College President, from 1982 to 1996, roughly the same years that Rev. DeBolster served as Redeemer’s College President, from 1981 to 1994. The two of them became close friends through their shared title of President of a Christian College. The two of them had a tremendous impact upon the lives of hundreds and thousands of young people during the years, each of whom were able to benefit from a Christian College/ University education. Where it multiplies is in the classrooms of Christian schools and high schools, throughout North America, where today’s children are taught by teachers educated with a Christian World and Life view that proclaims “This World Belongs to God.” And it even becomes more intimate, where many eventually learn that God himself is the one who calls us by name, saying, “You’ve always felt like a daughter to me, like a son, since you’ve placed your faith in Jesus my son.” Pastor Sid

Mom and Dad lived in this home for 52 years. This was the home that we as children only knew. It was just outside of town, on a corner lot, backing on to Loyalist College Green Space, with Jones Creek running down below. Halfway down the hill my father dug a well that went ten feet deep, never leaving the family home dry. He built the home with the help of family and friends, renovating and adding space when necessary. When Mom went back to Holland to visit family, Dad would surprise her with a building project, putting a new bay window in the living room, a wood stove complete with block chimney, downstairs, and redesign of the front entrance and more. It was always a joy and pleasure to have this place called home. It was hard for us to see the For Sale sign on the front lawn. It did not take long for the place to be sold and a moving date was set. Mom and Dad decided to rent a two bedroom apartment in a seniors’ complex, and a date for the move was set. Each of us as siblings made it a priority to come and help and we discovered two things. One, Mom and Dad each talked about their own homes, back in the Netherlands, and the memories they had as children. That helped us realize that we were probably more attached to the “family” home than they were, even though they will miss it a lot. Secondly, the greater delight was having each of us there, helping Mom and Dad move, helping us realize that home is rooted much more in relationships than in places. That in no way minimizes the emotional attachments to place, and we have a God who offers both relationship and place. We have a God who loves this world, because it was created by Him, and belongs to Him. He loves this place so much that He sent His one and only Son to redeem this world, and usher in a new heaven and a new earth, of which we too will be a part. More than that, this Son of his, whom we know as Jesus, is the one who renews and revives our relationship with our Father in heaven, giving us this sense that we are most at home, in Him! Mom and Dad actually find it cozy in their new home, and I found it enriching to be able to be together as family, making it work for them. Pastor Sid

You may have been one of 28 million people this past Sunday evening who watched the Grammy Awards. Last year, when Whitney Houston was still alive and participating in the Grammies, the viewership ballooned to 39 million people. Everyone involved in the music industry, across every genre, comes out to the Grammies. These are the songs that you hear on the radio, in the movies, on your ipods and in your cars on a daily basis. The names of the bands are actually quite fascinating; The best new artist was “Fun.” The best Rock Performance was won by The Black Keys. The best Hard Rock/Metal Performance was given to Halestorm for a song called “Love Bights (and so do I”). I used to play hockey with Carly Rae Jepsen’s father, a principle in one of the high schools in Mission B.C. She was nominated in the category of Best Song of the Year, and Best Pop Solo Performer. But what caught my attention was who won the biggest prize of the night, taking home Album of the Year. That’s like winning the Stanley Cup in Hockey. The band is from England, and they are called Mumford & Sons. It’s not only their music that is so refreshing, what seems to catch everyone’s attention are their lyrics, the words to their songs. They play what’s called “FolkRock” style, and they began in 2007. Their first Album was called Sigh No More and slowly rose in the charts. They received two Grammy Nominations from this album. Then they came out with Babel, and it became Britain’s fastest selling album ever in 2012 and the fastest selling album in 2012 in the United States of America as well. The parents of the lead singer were at the forefront of the Vineyard Ministries movement in Britain, and the lyrics and words of the songs are prophetic and often address the soul. I believe them to be Christian, having touched a spiritual nerve within the music industry. I believe this world’s music culture is hungering and thirsting for the kind of reality and truth that groups like Munford & Sons bring. Presently our Men’s Chorus sings one of their songs called “Awake My Soul” “How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes. I struggle to find any truth in your lies. And now my heart stumbles on things I don’t know. My weakness I feel I must finally show. Lend me your hand and we’ll conquer them all. But lend me your heart and I’ll just let you fall. Lend me your eyes; I can change what you see. But your soul you must keep totally free. Awake my soul, Awake my soul. In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die. Where you invest your love, you invest your life. Awake my soul, awake my soul. For you were made to meet your maker.” Imagine, the Grammies lifting up “the Lord’s Cup,” as being the greatest! The gospel continues to be proclaimed! Pastor Sid

This coming Wednesday marks the beginning of the season of Lent, with Ash Wednesday. It is a forty day period that leads to the week of Passion, which begins on Palm Sunday. During this forty day period Christians around the world will engage in Prayer, Penance, Repentance, Almsgiving and Self-Denial. This is often accomplished through the spiritual discipline of fasting. We as a congregation will be walking through a series of sermons from the Gospel of Luke, called “Come and SeeS the Cross of Christ.” Already in Luke 9: 23 Jesus gives these words; “Then he said to them all: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will save it.” The series of sermons in this season of Lent will look at what it means to be a follower of Jesus. Next week Sunday we’ll begin by looking at the Mark of a Disciple, from Luke 15. On February 24th, we’ll look at The True Response of a Disciple: Gratitude; On week three, March 3rd, we’ll look at Luke 18:1-18 and Persistent Prayer and a Concern for Justice; On week four, March 10th, we’ll look at “True Repentance,” as the mark of a disciple. On week five, March 17th, we hope to look at Watchfulness and Stewardship from Luke 19:11-17. These services will bring us to Palm Sunday, on March 24th, where Jesus marches into Jerusalem in Luke 19:28-44. Work is already being done for our Good Friday service which will come from Luke 23, entitled “The Last Supper, the Garden, the Betrayal and the Trial.” All these services lead us to Easter Sunday, from Luke 24, where The Cross is Empty and the Work is Done. It is our prayer that during this season of Lent, you too will be drawn nearer to Christ, and more intimately involved as a follower of Jesus. Pastor Sid

One of the eye sores along the mouth of Forty Mile creek is a cage of three shopping carts caught in a tree trunk, several old tires sitting along the bank, and old bicycles caught in some brush. When we first came across those articles my imagination immediately drifted towards kids having parties that included trashing the place. It may very well be that there are some late night parties along the banks, but my theories have since changed. I went for a hike during the middle of this week and noticed that ice had piled up and jammed underneath the foot bridge. With the freezing temperatures of the last couple of weeks the water had frozen allowing some to even skate on the ice. The mercury has since risen and one day of rain changed a lot. Ice started melting and losing its grip. No sooner had I crossed the bridge when I heard this huge crack and the massive ice jam began to move. On the other bank was a bright yellow two-seater peddle boat that had obviously come down with the flow. It too was being dragged down with the flow. I was amazed at the power and the weight and the speed with which the mass began to move. It then dawned on me why there was so much debris at the mouth of the river, because so much comes down with the flow. It could well have been that some kids tossed the three shopping carts into the creek one mile up, behind Food Basics. Who knows where the tires and bikes came from but it was clear to me that the creek had its own cleansing power. The massive flow was stopped where ice still had to give way, diverting the flow of water, only digging into side banks even more. I’ve never seen the mouth of Forty Mile creek so wide with this latest winter flush. I walked back to the foot bridge and never did see the yellow peddle boat again, believing that it must have gotten pushed under the ice and into the flow. Maybe this spring, when everyone celebrates “earth day,” it might be appropriate to clean out that which the creek itself has deposited, the metal, rubber, articles of clothing, plastics and debris that naturally do not belong. And my guess is that we could find some kids who would enthusiastically assist in such a project and even throw a party while doing it. Now that’s what I call redeeming my imagination and going with the flow. Pastor Sid

This is winter. This is the kind of January I remember as a kid. Forty Mile creek is frozen over. It brings me back to my childhood, living next to a creek that would allow us to skate for miles down to the Bay of Quinte, and up North to the CN tracks. These were the kinds of temperatures that remind me of standing outside on a star studded night, watering the outdoor rink of Guelph Christian School so the children would be able to skate on it during recess. I think of winter Cadet Campouts in the snow, with nothing but a tarp for a mattress and warm sleeping bags for a cocoon. I can remember times when it would be so cold we could see our own breath. The air was so still that we tried to be cool, with two outstretched fingers on our lips, we’d try to blow smoke rings, pretending that we smoked. I’m reminded of playing hockey with young people on an outdoor pond alongside highway #401. The cold wind biting on my face reminds me of still needing to deliver 23 Intelligencers on my paper route. Every step made a crunch, crunch, crunch on the crisp white snow. Stepping out into the cold has a way of awaking so many memories that seemed to have been frozen somewhere beneath my brain. And we all have them, memories brought on by the cold. There was always an Anton Peck drawing in our home growing up, with a winter scene of the whole town out on the ice, smiles on their faces, blades on their feet, enjoying the snow, which made me believe that’s what Holland was like. My favourite family portrait was one shot by one of those cheap Kodak cameras, with our whole family on the ice down by the creek, behind our house. It’s cold out and the crisp cool air has a way of unthawing those memories within my mind, causing words to come out of my mouth like, “I love this kind of cold.” Pastor Sid