Canada

The great letter writer Paul, writing to his friends in Philippi, said: “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” (1:21 NIV)

That verse stumps me. Because sure, I believe in an afterlife with God, and I know it’s going to be good. I get that in my head, most days. But I don’t want to die. Dying doesn’t feel much like gain.

We, as the church, exist in the midst of a present darkness--a struggle, not just against flesh and blood, but against rulers, authorities, and powers in the spiritual realm. We are also called to be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power equipped with the full armor of God --standing firm in its truth, righteousness and peace, being always protected through faith and salvation and armed with the sword of the Spirit, the word of God (Ephesians 6).

The film Over 18 is a documentary that seeks to raise awareness of the harmful psychological, emotional, and even spiritual effects of long-term pornography addiction among males and females. The documentary itself does a masterful job of highlighting both sides of the industry: consumers of the “product” as well as its producers. Through various interviews and dialogue with a wide range of individuals, it provides a more complete perspective on what pornography is and how it is impacting our society.

You’re more than a consumer. You’re more than a taxpayer. You’re a citizen.

This is an excerpt of a message preached by Mike Hogeterp, Director of the Christian Reformed Centre for Public Dialogue, at Calvin CRC in Ottawa on Aboriginal Sunday 2016. The message was based on Genesis 12:1-4 and Psalm 25. What do the biblical calls to hospitality and reconciled relationships mean for your church’s relationships with local Indigenous peoples?

Hospitality was a big deal in biblical Israel. Abraham hurried to offer “three seahs of the finest flour” and a “choice, tender calf” to three men passing by his tent, even before learning that his guests were no mere humans (Genesis 18). The disciples on the road to Emmaus urged the resurrected Jesus to stay with them, learning his true identity only later (Luke 24).

I have a confession to make.

I've been leading a group of white Christians for the past 6 months in unlearning our white supremacy. We've met once a month to do the hard work of looking our own racism in the face and calling it out, together. And I haven't really talked about it.

Not long ago, I spent an afternoon smoking a cigarette with a convicted drug dealer and thief. Well, I wasn’t smoking the cigarette, but I was there nonetheless, enjoying the second-hand smoke and conversation. Well, enjoying the conversation and avoiding the second-hand smoke.

Our choice of setting? The no-smoking area of a hospital courtyard, large ‘Fresh Air Area’ signs over our heads.

The past few weeks I have been taking a new bus route to work from my friend’s house. The route passes through Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside, a neighbourhood that is seen by many as a place of homelessness, poverty, and addiction. While there are many homeless people on the street who seem lonely and isolated, there is also a deeper sense of relationships and a tight-knit community where people care for and look out for one another, and share their hopes and pains with each other – like a family.

I’ve recently read three books which have helped me to become aware of my privilege. They can help us recognize how white privilege has shaped social structures, opportunities, and hopes – not only for white people, but for people of colour, as well.