An important message

“Elizabeth, I have an important message for you.”  I kept looking up into the sky wondering where this voice was coming from. For about a year I kept hearing this same message from a “voice from nowhere.”  Out of curiosity as to what this message might be, I decided to seriously search for the source.

Actually, my gut told me who the source might be: God.  However, I had no relationship with Him or His Son at that time so whenever I tried to communicate back to Him and ask Him what the important message was, I wasn’t able to hear His answer.

A page from my life

Many people know and love Karen Sutton.  She is a faithful member of BFMC and a great encourager.  I asked her to share her story with us and she was happy to do so.  She had written out her testimony in 2003 and it was ready to go.  My first thought was that it would probably have to be updated.  But as I read it, I realized that God’s power in our stories is a constant.  It doesn’t get outdated or old-fashioned.  Karen’s testimony is as true today as it was in 2003.  What we can add, to which Karen attests, is the fact that God continues to work in her life.  This is one “page” in her life influences the rest of the story.

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Several people were sharing their stories at church. Many of them knew little of growing up in church or even what church was all about. Well, I’m one of those who was born into the home of a Free Methodist pastor and have never been part of any other church…. but I’m also one of those who never really got it until much later in my life.

I grew up memorizing verses from the Bible and learning all the Bible stories. I grew up in an era where my perception of being a Christian was that keeping all the rules was your ticket to heaven. I understood the love of God as being very conditional on my behaviour. From the time I was a child I realized I needed something in my life but I had no idea how big God’s love was. I’m going to date myself here but I remember in the mid-50s there was a world crisis centred around the Suez Canal. I was terrified because I thought there was going to be another war and Jesus was going to return and I had no assurance there was a place for me in heaven. I think I may have been about 10 years old at the time. This was how my life was most of my growing up years.

I had times when I glimpsed the truth and thought I was making a start in my walk with God, then I would blow it, or so I thought. My happiness depended on who I was with and how accepted I felt. My teenage years were awful. I so wanted to fit in with everyone and sometimes I did and a lot of times I didn’t. I mostly followed the rules. I always went to church because I would feel guilty if I didn’t. I got married because at 21 that was the thing to do. (I really did think I was in love.) A lot of my friends were married. Four years and two children later, I found myself on my own trying to make a life. My children were 2½ years and 5 months old. I felt rejected and alone. Although, I must tell you that even then when separation and divorce were very uncommon in the church community, my church came alongside me in many ways. They did not shut me out because my marriage had failed.

Who are you, Jesus?

Claudia Stafford is a familiar face around the church.  If you attend BFMC, you’ve probably interacted with her on Sunday mornings at the Welcome Desk or attended the Boundaries course she leads, or maybe you’ve just had an impromptu friendly conversation because she’s just that kind of gal!  Well, now you’ll see her face a lot more here on this blog.  Claudia has agreed to become a regular contributor as she sees the importance of sharing our stories with each other and wants to help our church family connect in that way. 

First, here’s some of Claudia’s story.

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It is humbling for me to choose words to tell of how the Author of Life touched me as His child despite my rejection and denial of Him during my life.  This is a short, incomplete self-account of how God our Father prepared, marinated and applied truth through Jesus into my heart.

In Mark 8:27, Jesus said to his disciples, “Who do people say I am?”

When I was a young child, I too pondered this question whenever my eyes were drawn to the painted picture of Jesus that hung on my bedroom wall.  His face was the first thing I would see when I awoke and the last thing I saw before I fell asleep.  The expression depicted in this painting was neither happy nor sad, but rather it was most tender.  Who really was this man portrayed here?  Why would God allow someone to die for sins He did not commit, and for those He never met, like me?

Somehow this longing to know the truth about Jesus remained with me despite my growing indifference to my religious upbringing.  The veneer I learned to put on against life’s heartbreaks and disappointments eventually cracked one eventful day late in my twenties.

On a wintery day in 1985, my girlfriend and I miraculously survived a serious head-on car collision.  There I lay on an emergency bed staring at the ceiling with tears streaming down my face.  I embraced the pain and frustration of deep-seated emptiness and the reality of my mortality.  I was not in control and I cried out for God to show me truth.  That day, my desire for faith was re-awakened.  After all, I had survived for some reason, hadn’t I?

My cry was answered soon afterward when I met a new colleague at the private school where I taught.  She openly shared her faith in Christ and the Bible.  She exhibited Jesus-like qualities that struck me as genuine.  She spoke of having a personal relationship with Jesus as though it was something brand new.  Inwardly, I wondered what the fuss was about.  Wasn’t living in relationship with Jesus living out his precepts?  So, I silently asked Jesus to show himself to me as assurance that I was not again being duped or drawn into another’s conviction that was not mine.

I suppose I was half expecting to receive some sort of vision or appearance from Jesus to “seal the deal.”  Nothing happened right then, yet later something supernatural occurred that assured me that my prayers were answered.  The colours around me took on a hue like I have never seen before.  I was moved in my heart by peace.

My eyes were soon opened to the desperate state people were in.  I received this overwhelming sense of compassion for others mixed with grief for the state of humankind.  I saw the harm of my own self-centredness.  I was touched with Godly sorrow for my influence on others that denied the truth of Jesus and the love of God for them.  I saw for the first time my need for Jesus as Saviour, and my life was not my own.  I picked up the Bible and its words seemed to jump off the pages and make sense.  I understood that Father in Heaven was no longer a harsh and unpredictable Creator, but someone who cared enough to walk among us through His Son.

At first talking with God was awkward to do, but soon I could not wait for these heartfelt prayer sessions with my precious friend who had led me to Jesus and, later, more believing friends.  Amazing answers transpired out of good will prayer for others and needy situations.

It seems that our good will prayers for each other give pleasure to the Father, much like when we watch our children being loving and kind toward one another.  I am forever grateful for all those prayers I am unaware of on behalf of my soul and my family.

Today the picture of Jesus hangs in the bedroom of my heart.  He is painting it and shaping it through the words He gives me in scripture by the Holy Spirit and my believing brothers and sisters.  He loves, forgives, and advocates for those who trust Him.

As C.S. Lewis once said, “I hope to be a good adjective to the Noun.”

God doesn’t give up

The following story was written by Pat Day.  Pat and her husband, Jim, run the DivorceCare ministry at Barrie Free Methodist Church.

I hope you will be encouraged by Pat’s story of God’s healing power in her life. 

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My life was in danger of being taken from me and the only way I could save myself was to remove myself from a marriage which had become volatile, abusive and dangerous.

I spent the next few months in a shelter, where caring professionals protected and reassured me that everything would be OK.

It was during this time that I was invited to an evening Bible study.  It was really to get me out of the four walls that had become my refuge and, after initially protesting (I didn’t want to be drawn into any Bible-thumping time), I accepted the invitation.  I found by the end of the evening that the company and study had been uplifting.  I had actually enjoyed the time I spent with those Christians.

I decided to test them further (I didn’t trust anyone or anything at this time) and attend one of their Sunday services.  Once again, I found a warmth and friendship that I was unaccustomed to; that emptiness within me had found what had been missing all those years past.

My life was still horrendously traumatic.  Everything was out of my control and scary.  I was constantly “on my guard” when away from the shelter, but there was a new strength growing within me and it felt good.  I knew without any shadow of a doubt that one day I would recommit my life to God (I had always believed in God, had been brought up as a Roman Catholic and had attended convent school), but I wasn’t ready to do that yet.  I had no way of knowing that God was.

It was just another Sunday service and, as usual, I had seated myself at the far end of a long row of people, away from the aisle and the closeness of the coming and going of others.  The service began and got to the “call forward.”  I waited with interest to see who would make their way to the “mercy rails”…

… I was walking down the centre aisle on my way to the mercy rails!  Wait a minute!  What’s happening here!  I’m not ready to do this!  Hey!!!  I don’t even remember deciding to come forward.  In fact, I don’t even remember getting up from my seat, walking past everyone else in my row and getting to the aisle.  I certainly don’t remember beginning my walk to the front!

However, I continued walking and feeling completely detached from reality, not quite believing I was doing this.  I knelt at the rails in tears and gave my life back to God and asked for His forgiveness and guidance and love.  I asked Him to take control of my pitiful life and help me deal with the “stalking” and “court appearances,” and the constant fear and rejection I felt from my family for having made this move.

Monday morning arrived and I woke not quite sure what to expect.  Would there be “bells and whistles” all around me?  Would I hear angels?  What difference would there be after that commitment I made yesterday?

He did not give me “bells and whistles,” but just an incredible sense of peace amidst the chaos of my life.  It was peace beyond anything I had experienced ever before.  Oh, the “stuff” was still there to be dealt with.  The decisions regarding my future still had to be made BUT that Monday morning none of that mattered.  I felt like I was on “Cloud Nine.”

Psalm 55:22 says “Cast your burden on the Lord, and He will sustain you.”  Also, John 10:9 says, “I am the door.  If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved and will go in and find pasture.”  God knew I didn’t need “bells and whistles,” He knew I needed quiet – peace – a sense of order in my heart and soul.  Wow, I felt invincible!

Even now, as I write this I still have no recall of changing my mind and deciding to make that commitment on that Sunday.  That still confounds me because I am a very logical person. After all, you’d think I would remember something.  In retrospect, and after humbling myself in my thinking, I realized that it had been His decision, not mine.  He knew I needed some peace, some quiet, some order in my life, so He took control.  I had no strength, no fight left.  He says in John15:16, “You did not choose Me, but I chose you.” and I firmly believe that in those brief moments, on that Sunday morning in church, He took my hand and led me forward.  After I gave Him what he required (my life, my faith and my trust), He gave me what I needed.

He has been #1 in my life every since (that was 12 years ago).  He has worked mightily since that time.  I hold onto my faith even though sometimes it feels like it’s just “by the skin of my teeth.” I know that with God’s word as my map and His Spirit as my compass, I am sure to stay on course.

I praise Him and thank Him often through each day for loving me and saving me through His Son, Jesus Christ, and for leading me to good Christians that I can feel comfortable and safe with.

Don’t give up on God, because he NEVER gives up on you!

Georgian College Food Bank

Each Christmas the challenge grows for us to think differently about how we spend our resources.  Statistics show the billions of dollars we spend on each other and how just a portion of that could help solve our worldwide poverty problems.  However, the question of helping each other out isn’t only about giving our money at Christmas.  It’s about giving our time too and developing relationships with others.  What we most often find when we build those relationships is how deep the need is.

The following is a guest post from our own Pastor Rick.  This is a new challenge from the Young Adults for us to get to know our neighbours in need and then do something about it.

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The question came up in a late August meeting: “What are we doing to make a difference in our community?”  As our Young Adult’s leadership team put our heads together to brainstorm and pray, one of our team members brought to our attention how some students at the college have been struggling to put food on their table.  One of our Young Adults shared how a Georgian College student she knew was living off popsicles in her final week of exams as she could no longer afford to purchase food.

Since the beginning of September, a team of young adults from our church have worked hard handing out surveys to college students, researching college food banks and attending several meetings with the Georgian Student Council in hope to get a College Food Bank off the ground.  There are so many details that need to be sorted through.  How do we get donations?  How much do we give to a student in need?  What is the best process for students to receive food anonymously?  How will it be run efficiently?

Sarah Guirguis, Amy Frost and I met with the Executive Director of the Barrie Food Bank, Dennis Willer.  This man was a huge resource and gave us lots of helpful tips.  He shared from his years of experience.  One statement that stood out was:

Barrie hides its poor well.  You do not see many ghettos but the poor are living amongst us.

As more and more adults go back to school, many are living from pay cheque to pay cheque or OSAP cheque to OSAP cheque.  There is a need and the Young Adults want to meet that need.

On October 31st, Garth and Carrie Webb led a team of Young Adults out to our neighbouring streets to collect non-perishable food items.  The response was overwhelming as much food was collected.  One need that is still outstanding is for the school to find space to store the food.  We are looking at a January, 2009 launch date with lots of school promotion taking place over the next two months.

Please pray for this ministry and remembering to make donations to our College food bin which is located under the coat rack beside He-brews Cafe.

Take a Sabbath rest, even in September

Beth Hill responded to my post last week about feeling the pull of the workforce. Except, unlike me, she resents it. 

She shares her reflection on the distraction of busy-ness and how it can take away our time with God. 

Here, I’ll let her tell you. 

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 I wrote this poem after a sermon by Pastor Cliff.  There had been more than one sermon on the subject of “Sabbath Rest” during that season in our church.  Around the same time, Sherri Thomas organized a women’s retreat weekend to examine and practice the Sabbath, which I attended.  At the time of writing, I was reflecting how I experience daily life, especially during the month of September.  I felt that the busy-ness of my life create some distance between me and God, which didn’t exist in the early years of my faith journey.

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 The Pain . . .

I cling to the edge
Grasp onto the edge of a friendship
That I once knew
I pray for a sign
     A piece of hope
          A way back to You

I remember a past
Hold onto a past of abundant
Life poured out
I guard a memory
     of nothing held back -
          no fear or doubt

I long for a future
Hope for a future that’s brighter
Than this life now
I look for peace,
     a Sabbath rest,
          not knowing how . . .

The Problem . . .

Life chews me up and spits me out
The day spins round and round
A never-ending coaster ride
Eyes fixed on the ground
The devil’s foot is in the door
But I’m too tired to see
His weapon choice is Weariness
Lord, how it’s killing me!

I’ve lost myself a million times
In the tyranny of now
I used to hear the still, small voice
But can’t remember how
A little hear, a bit more there
I gave myself away
But not to You, my Father God
To gods of day-to-day

To needs that will not be restrained
To someone else’s wants
Now the devil’s leg is in the door
And with his tongue he taunts:
“Love is wearisome and dull
And it will dry you up”
Yet faintly I can still recall
An overflowing cup

So here’s my question, Counselor,
Speak into my life,
How does Your stain on me reflect
In mother, friend and wife?
My plea is for those eagle’s wings
And feet that never tire
I wish to walk with You again
The journey of desire

The Provision . . .

I move into your mercy
Walking in mercy and grace I’ve
Cautiously stepped
I watch for signs
     finding evidence
          of Promises kept

I receive your love
Allowing your love and compassion
To wash over me
I accept the gift
     taking the time
           to listen and BE

I rest in your forgiveness
Standing in sweet forgiveness
Under your wing
I know the peace
     of being home in
          the house of the King

Straight from the missionary’s mouth

I spoke to Hannah and Eric Long before their short-term mission trip to Panama this past summer. We had brief updates posted on here while they were there (including a small scare when Hannah got sick part way through) and then news that all was well and they’d be home soon. They were greeted warmly by their church family when they returned and then got into the tough stuff of struggling to adjust to their home culture after their experience. I’ve had a chance to speak with them myself, but I asked if they’d be willing to summarize their trip for all of us who had to stay home. Hannah’s a bit of an ink fanatic, like me, and was happy to write about her trip. As Hannah has articulated, it is exciting to think of where God will lead us next when we’re open to serving him!

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This July my brother Eric and I went on a mission trip to Panama, specifically to San Blas Islands and the Darien Jungle.  Looking back in my journal and deciding what to write about, I really don’t know.  So much happened, so much changed for the both of us, I will never be able to put it all into words.  But here is a quick sum-up of our adventure…

First was training in Texas, where the worship is AMAZING and it is so hot that even water-proof mascara melts.  From Dallas Fort Worth Airport we flew to Panama, where there was another day of in-country training before we drove 4 hours to a little port town and transferred to boats.

Here the team split; half to the island of Acuadub, half to my island, Soledad.

After 2 hours of crashing and bumping over the Caribbean Sea, we arrived at our island.  I had never seen anything like it in my life… Packed with huts, shores crowded with rickety docks, and graced by perhaps a dozen palms or mango trees, it looked like something out of a movie or documentary.  Women in traditional clothing with naked babies on their hips stared at us, topless old women glared, children ran to the dock to greet us and men watched us with a mixture of amusement and hostility in their eyes.

Our home for the next week was the island’s bar, little more than a huge open hut thatched with palm leaves and stinking of alcohol from huge open urns.  As we slung our hammocks the villagers watched us through the sticks that formed the walls of our hut.  Throughout the rest of our stay, there would rarely be a moment when someone was not watching us.

The people of Soledad are Kuna.  Their religion is a basic paganism, where they live in constant fear of the spirits and literally worship carved wooden idols.  They hang food offerings from their roofs or doorways to appease these malicious spirits, and believe that if they displease them they will be strangled in their sleep.  Those first few days on the island were truly frightening.  Unless you have stood in a house where idols are worshipped and demons welcomed, you can have no idea of how eerie the feeling is – and, in the beginning, terrifying.

For the first three nights I barely slept, then, as we went about our ministry, the island began to change.  People that would not smile before began to smile.  Our men’s Bible study grew from 3 men to 12.  Every day, people were saved.  Many of these people had, very literally, never heard of Christ.  If they had, it was from the “pastor” on the island, who was actually a witch doctor and preached a warped gospel which did not include salvation.

Every morning we walked hut to hut, helping the women with their chores and asking them if they would like to hear about Jesus.  Since most had never even heard his name, they were understandably curious.  In the afternoons, we taught English and did VBS with the kids, which was so much fun.  Unfortunately it was on about our fourth day on Soledad that I got sick, so I missed several days.

By the time we left the island it felt so different, there was just a new peace there I can’t explain.

Moving on, our next place of ministry was the Embera village of Mahe, in the Darien Jungle.  We travelled by boat into the jungle and arrived in the general territory of Mahe, since the individual huts of the village could be up to an hour’s walk apart.  The huts in Darien have no walls, are raised between 2 and 5 feet off the ground, and are thatched with palm leaves.  Several times on the riverbank there were even wild horses, not to mention parrots and the occasional scrawny cow.

Ministry in Mahe was very different from on the island.  There was already an established church (which we lived in) so many of the villagers were already Christian, but desperately in need of discipleship.  Every morning we hiked hut-to-hut, bringing with us Spanish Bibles, teaching the people the basics of the faith and answering their quesitons.  In the afternoons we did VBS, through I was still very ill for the first 3 days or so and missed getting to know the children as well as I did on Soledad.  But Eric found himself a few little friends.

Then it was back to Panama City, Texas… and home.

So, those are the basics of our trip… There is so much more to tell about Panama, about my personal spiritual growth and experiences.  I would absolutely love to share them sometime, but I’m already 500 words over my quota, ha ha!  So, please, ask me questions!

Please pray for Eric and I.  We are both looking into other mission trips next year.  Eric is going to Asia and I am still praying about where God wants me to be.  But wherever I go, I am so excited!  It is going to be an amazing experience, I know.  Thank you all again for your prayers and support this year!

An ounce of prevention

I don’t have a *real* job.  I’m self-employed and I have yet to bring in any kind of salary, you know, that might pay the mortgage or support visits to my hairdresser every six weeks.  BUT I make my own hours and do something I love.  At this time of year, however, those two factors seem highly over-rated.  When the whole world is ending their vacations and going back to school/work, I want to go with them.  It’s as if they all got tickets to an awesome show (they’ve been waiting all summer for) that starts Monday morning at 9 a.m. and I haven’t been invited! 

The crazy thing is, I worked for years in a 9-5 job with 2 weeks vacation, one of which had to be saved for my Christmas holidays.  I desperately wanted to control my own schedule.  Now that I can, what is this notion that I want to give it up just to be part of the crowd?  Like, c’mon, if the world jumped off a cliff, would I too?

To those of you who got a ticket to that Monday morning show, it occurred to me that there is still a push to pack your schedules full outside of your work/school hours.  This is the time of year, we can get caught up in the drive to be busy.  We sign up for extra-curricular activities, part-time schooling, hobbies… and ministries.  There is obviously nothing wrong with those things, and there is a lot of benefit to doing them, but surely we can anticipate that in 4 months’ time, we are going to feel over-worked, over-burdened, and over-stressed.  That time which was ours to use, is no longer in our control.

The tragedy of this has two parts.  One is that our own mental health deteriorates under the pressure of managing a busy schedule.  And the other is that we become unavailable for true ministry that happens when we are in a position to respond to needs.  Combine the two and we’ll find ourselves reacting instead of responding to others.

Our pastor in Ghana would say that unlike money, we all have been given the same amount of time to spend – 24 hours each day.  God has appointed us managers of our time – how will we best use it?  We think we have to schedule ourselves to the brim to feel productive and useful, but what if we freed ourselves up in the name of making ourselves available to others.  Opportunities will come our way and we’ll be able to respond in joy to them, instead of considering them an interference or interruption to what we have jam-packed into our fall program.

If we take time to make time, come 4 months’ from now, we might even feel refreshed.  Imagine that!

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Do you have a story to share of a time when God “got your attention” amidst your busy schedule?  Tell us about it!  Leave a comment or contact Loreli Cockram at loreli[at]bfmc[dot]org.

A word from Panama

Here’s the latest update from Hannah and Eric’s Global Expeditions team as of July 25th:

(The Project Directors called in the following message)
Our teams have been away from modern civilization for a few days but the Lord has been MOVING! Many are coming to know Him – ministry has been effective. Everyone is safe and doing well.

Thank you for all of your prayers and support. We will update the web directly as quickly as possible when we return to Panama City next week.

Blessings!
Panama Leadership Team

As you know, we have been praying for Hannah for some time.  She was sick for a few days and unable to get proper treatment.  It was frustrating, to say the least, for Hannah’s Mom, Julie, to try and get information back and forth.  We’re taking comfort in this general, but brief update, “Everyone is safe and doing well.”  They’d call if there was a problem, right? 

These pictures I stole from the Global Expeditions site of Hannah and Eric “at work” are pretty cool:

Proof that Hannah is in Panama – you don’t see too many thatched roofs in Canada.  Are you noticing the other girl’s arm sling?  On the Global Expeditions site it says that this trip has a “Physical Difficulty Rating” of 5 out of 5.  I’m starting to believe it! 

The “Ministry Difficulty Rating” is 4 out of 5.  Eric makes it look easy.

Hannah and Eric return this Saturday, August 2nd.

Praying through our stories

Here is an update from Julie Long, Hannah and Eric’s mother on how their trip is going:

Hannah and Eric are in Panama city today heading out to the jungle early tomorrow morning. The trip is going really well except Hannah is quite sick and is being taken to the clinic today. She needs lots of prayer for a speedy recovery (and good medical care). I guess a lot of the kids are sick or injured. They’ve had to pull quite a few out and take them back to the city for treatment. Eric is still healthy and didn’t want to leave the island but apparently the jungle is pretty amazing. They love the Kuna people who are apparently the second shortest people in the world, Eric says the tallest man is a few inches shorter than I am! They have tons of stories to tell when they get home but I guess 20 or so Kuna were saved while they were there. They are teaching a little English as well as doing VBS and worship. We won’t hear anything again until they come out of the jungle next Tuesday or Wednesday. 

One of the reasons why we are writing down these stories – even as this one is happening – is to connect more deeply to our church family.  The best way to do that is through prayer and right now we are uniquely positioned to pray Hannah through her sickness, as well as for the ministry of the whole team.  We get to be part of this story too.

Thanks for praying!