Weathering Life and Death

While typing this blog, my view across the road is blocked by a horizontal blizzard. In Alberta, we live in a precarious part of the world that, except for modern technology, would be almost uninhabitable. Harsh and dangerous weather conditions can erupt at any time.

Ann and I just spent a month in New Zealand, enjoying the balmy weather of that moderate climate; a safe place to live, we might believe. But positioned on the fault lines of the pacific rim, we felt two separate tremors that had indoor plants swaying like trees in a wind, and were warned of a possible tsunami.

I wonder sometimes if any safe place exists in this world, not affected by the faulty planet we live on. The frequent storms, drought, earthquakes, landslides, floods, fire and other natural calamities are a reminder of the fragility of life anywhere on earth.

That doesn’t take into account the violence that afflicts humankind: war, and murder, fostered by anger, jealousy and greed; or the plagues of sickness and accident that terminate life every day. Death stalks humans in every place and at all times on earth.

Tomorrow is not guaranteed to any of us. The mystery of history is that so few prepare for death, when its certainty provokes the greatest pervading fear of life. Only foolishness can ignore the peace God has made with us to meet Him, to whom we are all accountable, with joy.

Earthquake

 New Zealand is a beautiful country. It’s difficult to drive anywhere without admiring the varied and lush scenery. That’s if you don’t mind driving on the wrong side of the street; after all, North Americans drive on the right side of the street.

But there are a couple of experiences I could do without. Doors on restaurant and motel toilets rarely see an oil can and squeal like a thousand drowning rats, announcing your business to all and sundry. But my favourite whinge is the earthquakes. We’ve already felt a couple of tremors since our arrival.

New Zealand sits squarely on the “ring of fire,” that encircles the Pacific and affects countries on the Pacific Rim. This creates spectacular scenery of thermal valleys, volcanoes and hot springs. And this week, Christchurch remembered its earthquake causing destruction and loss of life two years ago.

It’s a vivid reminder that not only humankind, but the whole creation is behaving contrary to its preordained mandate. But one day “the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay, and brought into the glorious freedom of the Children of God.” (Romans 8:21)

"WRITE"

Ann and I are in New Zealand visiting Heather, our daughter and family for the month of February. Apart from some warm weather—it’s still summer here—it gives us time to write and visit some of the local churches. We were invited one Sunday evening to share our testimony and why we write.

I was reminded of John’s Revelation 19:9: “Then the angel said to me ‘Write . . .’” Even this morning, my reading was Exodus 34, and I pondered verse 27:  “Then the Lord said to Moses. ‘Write . . .’” It struck me that except for the faithfulness of these and other writers, we would not have a Bible.

Now, I’m sure my writings will never have the circulation of the Bible; they certainly don’t carry the same weight, and will never find that wide an audience. Originally, I just wanted to leave a legacy for my family, and perhaps a limited audience beyond that. But that doesn’t lessen the imperative: “Write.”

As the Holy Spirit impels us to sharpen and use our God given skills, we may be surprised what he leads us to write. As a personal pilgrimage, I had no interest in fiction. I considered writing the facts of my faith was a priority, and wondered why writers and readers alike were so interested in fiction.

But we began writing our childhood memories of England during World War 2. The stories were factual, but needed dramatization. This led me to think in fictional categories, and I was surprised how much I enjoyed the experience. As an experiment, I wrote a further 6,600 word short story.

This has led me to write my first novel. As much as novels are generally for entertainment, they frequently carry a message. My novel, like many others I’m sure, contains entertainment value to attract and maintain interest, but it is also a vehicle for expressing my faith.

It’s only taken me seventy-seven years to discover this. I’m sure most of you knew this all along. But writing fiction has given me a new lease on writing, new ways to view the world and proclaim the Gospel. Above all, I’m surprised by the joy it gives me!

So I hear again the imperative: “Write . . .”

Cheese

To list my weaknesses, the priority would be chocolate and cheese. A Cheesychocaholic would be an apt title. Not that I would eat cheese smeared with chocolate, although cutting cheese with a jammy knife as a child gave me a liking for jam on cheese. That even extended, for no particular reason, to marmalade on bacon.

My father was a great fan of Gorgonzola—a much sharper edition of blue cheese and I loved it, so I can consume blue cheese of any variety. One of the advantages of a trip to New Zealand, apart from a touch of summer in the Canadian winter, is the price and variety of cheese. Many cheeses can be bought in one kilogram blocks for about $7 to $10 Canadian.

On a trip to the local market last Saturday morning I found a stall selling 250 gram rounds of a variety of brie, Camembert and blue cheeses $6 for three. When I went to make a purchase, the Camembert was sold out, so I ordered three brie and blue cheeses. It was not till later when I opened the brown bag the girl gave me, I discovered four cheeses: no doubt an apology for no Camembert.

I guess I know that man cannot live by bread alone, so cheese makes a palatable alternative. In fact, a bread and cheese sandwich is my default for most meals I have to prepare for myself. Of course, I know it would be cheesy to say cheese is a substitute for the Word of God, but it’s still a useful fallback if I can’t turn stones into bread.

You may be reading this a day early, and we are a day (less about four hours) ahead of you. So I guess I’ll just have to enjoy a cheeeeeese sandwich while you catch up!

First to See the Light

Ann and I are in New Zealand visiting our eldest daughter. They live about 10 minutes from the small city of Gisborne on the east coast of the north island. The city’s motto is “First to See the Light,” based upon their location: closest city to the international dateline.

So we see the sun come up before anyone else in the world—although the distinction is rather artificial—that’s where the dateline was placed by the early British “time travelers,” 180 degrees across the planet from Greenwich Mean Time (GMT) in England.

But it was significant enough for a 30 minute TV segment from Gisborne to be broadcast around the world at the turn of the millennium. And real enough that I get up before any of you on any given day while we are here! Of course, that may be comforting—you get to lie in!

However, that is not the end of the Gisborne light story. The light here is different! I first noticed this as it begins to get light: white surfaces exude a phosphorescent glow. Heather, our daughter, tells me the surrounding grassy hills produce a glow in the half light.

Later, a photographer told me that photographers from around the world come to New Zealand as the light produces enhanced colours. Not something the naked eye or a common photo taker can see, but a sufficient difference to be professionally recognized.

Why? Clearer air; reflections from the south polar icecap? No-one seems to know. A bit like Jesus’ description of the wind—you can’t tell its origin or destination, but you can feel it and see its passage through the trees.

The presence of God is like that—indefinable, unexplainable, but at times unavoidable. It defies empirical evidence, yet is common experience. Above all, the illumination of the Holy Spirit gives insight to spiritual things unobtainable anywhere else.