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When there is smoke…

You think you know someone.

Five years – truly, has it already been five years that we have spent morning, noon and night working side by side? How many meals, how much laughter, how many truly delicious accomplishments we have achieved together only to arrive at this Easter morning and have you, the oven I’ve grown to trust, inexplicably burn the bacon beyond recognition?!! The betrayal runs deep.

Now, hopefully there aren’t any readers who are questioning the underlying necessity of bacon in the life of the believer. If so, go read Nehemiah 8 and then come back. I’ll wait. A large platter of bacon, crisped to perfection, is my weekly gift to my people, the reminder of all the wondrous things we mortals can experience this side of paradise.

Over the years, I have moved through many different seasons and methods of bacon prep. In the newlywed years, I attempted bacon on a paper-towel-ensconced plate in the microwave. This works better, I admit, if you hadn’t thought it a brilliant idea to register for large, square dinner plates that, when placed in the microwave, aggressively prohibit the rotation mechanism, thus producing bacon that is highly, almost toxically cooked on one end and raw on the other.

I then spent multiple years employing the electric skillet on the countertop method, which was largely fine but had two predictable problems I never seemed to entirely stay ahead of: I buy cheap griddles (yes, that technically makes me the problem, so make it three predictable problems) and they always seem to have large dead spots in the center, thus requiring a complicated mosaic of fatty meat scattered about that can cook approximately three pieces at a time, and the grease catch always has a tendency to break, which I consistently fail to notice until the grease has dripped all across the counter and floor, leaving an exciting patch for walking on days after the bacon has been consumed.

Then I was introduced to cooking bacon in the oven and, dare I have the hubris to say, I shall never go back? It has now become a part of my own personal Sunday morning liturgy. To get the family up and out to worship without a stressed atmosphere, I wake up an hour or so before the rest and go cook bacon. Later, when everyone is up, I pop the already cooked bacon back into the now cooling oven to warm it back to perfection and voilà – eat the fat! This was my plan on Easter morning...

And then the oven betrayed me.

Now, if ovens could speak, mine would probably say (and for some reason, I hear this in an Australian accent), Whoa now, Missy, I am not the one who broke the pattern, you did! You acted the dingo (again, Australian) and left the oven on for too long and you did not pay close attention when you warmed the bacon back up, which is why your family had to eat LIMP TURKEY BACON on Resurrection Sunday! At this point, obviously, I would push random buttons on the oven that would make it stop talking and probably clean itself. Ha, and so there.

But then... I would have to acknowledge that the oven, while unnecessarily preening and self-righteous and sporting a cooler accent than mine, was correct – I assumed the bacon was safe. I stopped paying attention. Smoke always ensues when we stop paying attention.

It is really no different in our daily walks with Christ. We have areas that we let our guard down (you know the one, that guard we are told to keep up with unceasing vigilance because our adversary the devil roams about like a lion seeking one to destroy?). We feel safe, spiritually, and fail to pay attention to the faint aroma of singed flesh that is beginning to permeate our relationships, our thoughts, our homes. One such example that leaps to mind for me is that brief window of time at the end of a long day when you and your spouse finally get to go to bed. How many thoughtless words have been spoken in those last moments of the waking hours? How many misunderstandings could have been avoided, how many apologies would not have become necessary, if we were to go to bed, spiritually, with a knife under our pillow, ready to spring to the cross at the first sign of temptation?

Because that is the only recourse when you light God’s good gifts on fire: Christ. He is your only protection, your true security, the only place you can and must turn again and again in the midst of temptation, of failure, of opposition, of smoke. Some kitchen fires... some relational fires... leave an aroma in the air that lasts for days. I spent a solid 48 hours haunted by the Easter bacon. But with each acrid whiff, I am given the choice to turn, and return, to the Gospel and put my hope in His unfailing protection. He is not done handing out bacon. So, I cannot be done standing guard, in His grace alone.

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A theology of cleaning?

Solomon was a wise man. But as a king, he passed over some vivid illustrations in the futility chapter of Ecclesiastes. Allow me to add the mother’s version of “chasing after wind”: The dishes are cleared and hasten back to where they lie dirty. The laundry is washed, and returns to the dirty hamper – around and around goes the laundry, and on its circuit it returns. The children’s stomachs are not satisfied with lunch, nor their appetites with supper. Vanity of vanities… I don’t know how Solomon would respond to that, but honestly, as I chase after my three small whirlwinds with vacuum and cloth in hand, I’m overwhelmed by the futility of it all. I’d far rather be reading something… or making something … or doing something “important,” something better than this mindless pecking away at dirt. I needed a theology for cleaning. So, between the rubbing and scrubbing, I’ve been doing a bit of reading. I’ve found some good news for us belabored housewives: cleaning is kingdom work! Chipping away at that eternal pileup of toys in the living room, dirty laundry on the floor and handprints on the walls is eternal stuff because God is glorified by our cleaning. And in a small way, we work alongside Him in redeeming and restoring this broken world. Let’s dive in… God is pleased with our work We worship a God who loves cleanliness. If you don’t believe me, have a peek at the book of Leviticus, which sparkles and squeaks right down to the quarantining of moldy fabric (Lev. 13:47-59). Yet God Himself cursed work in the Garden of Eden, filling it with thorns and thistles... and dust, dirt, and ick. Even in a world of cursed ground, work – and housework – is also a blessing. God blessed Adam and Eve with a job in the Garden of Eden. When we serve Him joyfully and cheerfully, be it ever so mindless a job, we glorify Him through it. I like to picture our heavenly Father, smiling and pleased with me as I do battle with bathtub scum. Will my husband notice our scrubbed tub? Probably not, but God will! The Lord also urges us to invite Him into the daily grind. Paul’s instruction to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thess. 5:16-18) surely doesn’t stop at cleaning. It’s sandwiched right between rejoicing always and giving thanks in everything. The one leads us to the other. So I can thank God for the beautiful invention of a toilet while scrubbing it (and it is beautiful – imagine life without toilets! or washing machines, gulp). We Dutch women have a little saying we like to whip out on occasion –“cleanliness is next to godliness.” It’s found… absolutely nowhere in the Bible. But the desire to meet up to community standards and maintain a Pinterest-worthy house is definitely still there, and still one we have to battle regularly! So let’s apply Paul’s exhortation to work heartily as for the Lord and not for men… or for mothers-in-law, picky friends, or nosy neighbors. God is honored in both our work and our resting When my oldest was about three, she came up with this brilliant idea. “Mommy,” she said, “we have should have two mommies. Then one can do all the work while you play with us!” And on that particular day, I was almost ready to agree with her. Thankfully, rest isn’t just given but even required. There’s a pitfall I find myself slipping into on occasion – viewing myself a bit like a slave (yes, there’s some over-the-top exaggeration there!). But it can feel like that – some seasons are a long marathon of cleaning and caring for everyone else. Our all-knowing God actually commanded the Israelites to rest. Commanded, as in, not optional. In Deuteronomy 5 He reminds them that they were slaves in the land of Egypt, and He rescued them with a “mighty hand and an outstretched arm.” Freedom comes with the luxury – the prescribed luxury – of rest. God uses the term “rest,” not “me-time.” We live in a hyper-entitled world that constantly tells us, “You deserve it, mama, go settle on the couch with your phone and a glass of wine.” While these things aren’t bad of themselves (in small doses!), they aren’t rights. And I find myself quick to claim them as rights (not the wine, but the doom-scrolling). But rest is above me-time as Greek salad is above ramen noodles. God built rest into the rhyme and rhythm of creation, to be enjoyed on the Lord’s Day as worship and praise to Him. It’s a foretaste of the eternal rest which Christ has won for us. When we rest, we worship Him. We need to guard that rest or it will slip away! Enlist your kids! My mom always wanted to hang this proverb in her kitchen: “Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox.” Comparing us kids to oxen was, well, rather accurate. As a good Dutch mom of six she had to embrace a lot of mess! She went beyond this to a complete application of the proverb: she faithfully harnessed her “oxen” up for work. This was probably a lot harder on her ears than it was on our hands, but it taught us to work faithfully and well. It was one of the best things she gave us, and I’m grateful for it. I remind myself of that as my four-year-old moans and groans through his daily task of putting away the clean silverware every day. We clean alongside God Himself That’s a truth so glorious it almost sounds heretical, but there are multiple levels to this. First off, there’s the cleaning of creation. It’s truly incredible how God has built cleaners into creation to maintain and purify it. Tides sweep the shorelines, scavengers and fungi devour rotten materials, rains wash the land, trees filter the air. There’s even a bacterium that can turn massive oil spills into harmless carbon dioxide and water within weeks. These are God’s janitorial taskforce on earth, restoring, refreshing, redeeming creation. As we beat back weeds and submit the garden to order, as we scour scum and change diapers, as we restore peace and order once again to our belabored homes, we join God in the redemption of creation. That’s a pretty incredible calling. It’s all a reminder The constant demands of cleaning also point to our spiritual state. As Christians, we are in a constant cycle of conviction, confession and repentance. We come to God, the purifier of our souls, for redemption on a daily basis. He doesn’t get tired of the same old work on the same old soul. So, when we pick up our kids’ dirty undies off the floor for the umpteenth time, may it be a reminder to us of God’s faithful cleaning. One day, the oxen will be gone and the stall will be (moderately) clean. And we’ll miss those dear little cows with all our hearts. But for now, we get to share in the glorious, everyday task of redeeming the universe with God. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a kitchen to redeem!...

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Blessed are the caregivers

For they will be given care ***** Although we don’t get a diploma and cap, many of us graduate from the role of caregiver when our youngest child spreads their wings and leaves our home. For Ed and Alice Hoogerdyk, their caregiving journey began in 2000, when God blessed them with their one and only child: Zach. Two decades later, shortly after Zach spread his wings and became engaged to a wonderful girl named Megan, a sudden illness and anoxic brain injury changed everything. Ed and Alice were called back to full-time caregiving. Ed and Alice aren’t alone. Ed shared that 160,000 Canadians sustain brain injuries each year and a quarter of older adults are family caregivers, with projections that this will increase significantly in our lifetime. Although we may have other plans for our lives, the LORD’s plan is sovereign. We then must decide whether we will run alongside the Zachs in our lives, or run away from them. Zach ran hard as a little guy. He’s running just as hard now. A string bean becomes a man Ed and Alice were married on August 1st, 1998. Ed was a school teacher, and after they married, took a position in Alice’s hometown of Carman, Manitoba. On July 23, 2000, God blessed them with the joy of their life: a healthy boy whom they named Zach. Two years later, they moved to Calgary as Ed took on a new role as school principal, and they have made that city home since then. Zach was shy. “He didn’t leave my side,” said Alice. She tried to make him more social, but he preferred to stay close and sit on her lap. Someone from her church reminded her to treasure this time, because it doesn’t come back. “He wasn’t Mr. Popular in the class. You could tell he was an only child,” she added. But he had a caring heart, looking out for kids who were left out. This carried on as he became a teen and then a young adult. He despised cliques and was intentional about spending time with young people on the margins. Although he wouldn’t have put the label on himself, Zach was a caregiver. As he grew, so did his love for sports, particularly ball hockey, and then running. He got his love of running from watching Ed. “He came to all my races, or most of them,” said Ed. “The next thing you know, he starts running. His goal was to beat my best running times.” As a young adult, Zach got his friends off their couches, organizing activities like skiing and, you guessed it, running races. He didn’t know what he was going to do as a career until he met a gentleman at a school career fair who pointed him to the masonry trade. “He went for an interview, and as he drove off all the other guys at the masonry industry laughed and said, ‘That kid ain't gonna last a week. He's such a little string bean,’” Ed shared. But Zach ended up flourishing in the trade, to the point that, when his boss had to downsize his crew from 40 to 5 not long after hiring him, Zach made the cut. Ed reflects that this was a stage where the whole family was thriving: Alice was enjoying her job as a controller at a construction and building supply company, Ed was experiencing a “whole new lease on life” with a position as Grassroots Director of ARPA Canada, and Zach was flourishing in his new career as a brick layer, with a boss commenting that “people like you come only once every 25 years.” That is also when Zach met Megan at a young adults’ conference in Calgary on a February long weekend. The two clicked, and in due time they were engaged, looking forward to a life together. But the LORD had different plans. From full of life to life-support In March of 2024, Zach made a trip to Megan’s hometown of Winnipeg. When he left, he had a really sore throat and was losing his voice. Ed encouraged him to go to the doctor, but Zach didn’t think it was necessary. “We dropped him off , and I still have the vision of him walking through the doors, pulling his little carry-on,” recalled Ed. That was the last time they saw him walking. Zach spent the weekend at the home of Ed’s brother and sister-in-law, but he wasn’t getting better. On Monday, Megan took him to a clinic, but by that point he could hardly walk out of the house. From the clinic he went straight to critical care in the hospital, and immediately needed assistance with his breathing. At this point, Alice was at home in Calgary, unaware of any issues, and Ed was just starting a two-week speaking tour in southern Ontario. Megan let them know that Zach was checked into the hospital, and Alice was able to talk with Zach on the phone. He told her he was all right, would likely stay overnight, but would be just fine. An hour later a phone call came that Zach had just had a cardiac arrest. Alice immediately went to the airport and was able to catch a flight to Winnipeg because it was delayed. Ed dropped everything and joined her at the hospital soon after. The news they received wasn’t good. “The doctor put his hand on my shoulder and Megan’s and told us to prepare for the possibility that Zach may lose his life.’” Ed and Alice later learned that Zach was going through a combination of strep pneumonia, influenza A, septic shock, bacterial infection, and then the cardiac arrest. The following hours were a blur of medical care, as the team worked hard to get Zach’s temperature down and his oxygen up. They packed bags of ice all over his body. “I still sometimes do it where I go to my phone and scroll up to the 2024 pictures,” shared Ed. “When you look at March, I'm at this gig and that gig. It’s all go, and lots of hype, and all of a sudden there's a picture of Zach laying in this bed.” “Your whole life perspective changes in a second,” added Alice. “You hear stories from other people. You don't know what it's like until you have it yourself.” Although their life changed in a blink, their Foundation didn’t. “It's amazing. Amazing how the Lord held us up through all of that,” Alice testified. She proceeded to share how they were surrounded by loving care from family, friends, and the church community. “It was always just at the right time to build you up again.” The nurses and others asked “how are you handling this?” To this they replied: “Only by the grace of God.” In the proceeding days, weeks, and months, as Zach’s life hung in the balance, there were points when Ed and Alice asked the LORD to spare him from further suffering and take him home. Zach was still on the ventilator, intubated, and endured multiple instances of septic shock. Eventually his hand was amputated, followed by both his feet. He hadn’t spoken since the cardiac arrest, and it was difficult to know the extent of his brain injury and how aware he was of what was happening around him. But when they wheeled him off to surgery to have his feet amputated, Zach was very emotional. Through this journey the family kept loved ones updated through a blog, titled “Running with Zach.” It didn’t take long before countless people from across the country were journeying with them, reading the health updates, meditations, and accompanying Scripture verses, praying for Zach and his loved ones. A new calling He won’t let go of his mama! It wasn’t just Zach’s life that changed, Ed and Alice were given a new calling: caregiver. Ed knew very quickly that he couldn’t carry on with his job, as it required him to travel regularly. He recalled calling his boss and informing him that “it's obvious to me that this is my new calling. It's as simple as that.” Alice, meanwhile, was able to carry on with her bookkeeping work, as it could be done remotely. Ed admits that they went through some dark valleys in the weeks and months following the hospitalization. “But when the time came, we had to be up at Zach's unit and be there for him.” And just like the early years when he needed his mom close by, Zach needed them in the same way now. “If he needed to get changed, or any kind of care, he needed one of us there,” shared Ed. When Zach no longer received one-on-one medical care, he needed Ed or Alice to be close by. “So, we took turns sleeping in his room. And he definitely needed it. He would look, to make sure I wasn’t leaving, then he would lay down and sleep.” When Zach’s health stabilized, it took Ed and Alice some time to find a good care home for their son in Calgary, as some of the care homes for “young adults” (under age 55) were sketchy, filled with rough music, rough language, and even drug trading. A successful physio session sitting up in the prone position. The Hoogerdyks found something special at AgeCare Seton, particularly with the staff. “If you want to learn about care from a culture, look to the Filipino culture. These people get care. They just live care. Young or old,” explained Ed. “They love Zach and a lot of them go to church. They talk about God and faith.” Zach also receives great care from the rehabilitation he is getting at the Association for the Rehabilitation of the Brain Injured (ARBI). “It is a great place. The team is very, very caring,” Ed commented. “He's gained a lot of muscle back,” Alice said. “I can't put my fingers around his arm anymore. He can ‘beat us up,’ and he takes great joy in that.” Lately, Alice has been challenging Zach to give better hugs, and he squeezes her hard, “laughing his head off.” “That’s not good, Zach,” she responds. “That is not loving your mother,” she jokes and then Zach responds with a laugh. Although he remains non-verbal, Zach is now using a tablet to communicate with his caregivers. “The best time of each day is 4:30-5:00, giving him supper, until we leave between 8:30 or 9:00,” explained Ed. “It is almost as if the family memories are all back. You can say certain sayings we used to say at home and he starts to laugh. So he is in a good mood, with lots of laughs.” They always read a devotional together and pray before leaving for the night. “He is dialed in when you’re reading. I try to keep my finger on the words.” He is also able to make it to church some Sundays. “He is listening,” Alice explained. She gave an example of the pastor sharing a one-liner joke and “Zach was even laughing without prompt, where it’s like he sort of gets it.” Blessed is he who considers the poor Having a good laugh with his pappy. Ed and Alice testified that their loving Father has been caring for them every step of the way. “God gives you strength for every day. Not for the next year, not for the next…. No, he gives it for today. It is a real thing,” emphasized Alice. Both Ed and Alice see God’s hand particularly in how He prepared Ed for this new role with his recent career. A lot of Ed’s work was related to protection for the vulnerable. The transition was from advocating for this protection, to actually providing it themselves. But the work experience had deeper application. It didn’t take long and Ed was convicted, particularly through a family member, to advocate for other caregivers through setting up a platform called “Running for Zach”. “We aren’t the only ones doing this. There is a brain injury every three minutes in Canada and it is the leading cause of disability and death in adults under the age of 35. There is a real, real need.” Ed pointed particularly to Psalm 41:1: “Blessed is he who considers the poor.” He explained that the word “poor” means much more than those without financial means. It is the vulnerable, the weak, those who can’t help themselves. “To consider the poor means to pay close attention to them and then to spend significant time and energy changing their lives.” Always one for a quip, Ed proceeded to connect this Psalm to a quote from Dr. Seuss: “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not!” This goes beyond the Zachs of the world. “We are all vulnerable in one way, shape, or form. We’re all weak. The church should be a haven of caregivers and a haven for caregivers. It should be caregiving central.” I asked Ed and Alice how we, as a church community, can better care for caregivers. Ed said the first step is to overcome the fear of approaching and speaking with the caregivers. “It’s fear. Fear that you are going to say something stupid, fear that you are going to cry. If you are exiting church, don’t try to find a different route to bypass the caregiver.” “Quit stewing too much over ‘I’m not sure what to say’ or ‘I’m not sure what to do.’ Doing something or saying something is better than nothing.” He added that “if you can go to the fellowship hall and talk to somebody about your fishing trip the previous week, surely you can go to a caregiver and find out what’s going on in their lives.” Ed and Alice are grateful to be part of a church community where the leadership led by example in this regard, with an elder or deacon coming to visit them every week. Ironically, it has often been the elder or deacon who leaves feeling lifted up. Kion Foundation First trip back to the mountains since the injury. Ed is now working on building a charitable organization called “The Kion Foundation.” Kion means pillar, and the foundation hopes to be a pillar of hope for families navigating acquired brain injuries. Beyond awareness, the goal is to help fill the care gap between a hospital discharge and home, providing things like centralized therapy and support spaces for caregivers to go to and receive help. Ed shared that it would take 2.8 million full-time equivalent workers to replace the 5.7 billion unpaid hours that family caregivers provide each year in Canada. That is a lot of people, including Christians, who are humbly serving outside the medical system. They need support. The Kion Foundation’s board includes Ed’s brother-in-law, Ed Tams, an entrepreneur, as well as Dr. Stephen Neal; Alisa Lieuwen, whose brother was diagnosed with a rare neurological condition that resulted in him becoming quadriplegic and non-verbal; and Wanda Knol, a business owner and volunteer serving the vulnerable. Designed to be a burden Although we can look forward to a world without the effects of sin, we can trust that God has a good purpose for where we find ourselves today. That includes the burdens He gives us. Ed quoted pastor and theologian John Stott: “We all are designed to be a burden to others. You are designed to be a burden to me, and I am designed to be a burden to you.” Instead of doing everything possible to run from these burdens, we can take to heart our LORD’s calling to “carry each other’s burdens and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ” (Gal. 6:2). Zach isn’t running like he used to. But he is running the race marked out for him. Running alongside him, we can look forward to crossing the finish line, where we will not just run, but soar like eagles. “Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.” (Heb. 12:1-2) “Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” (Is. 40:30-31)...

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How to catch Ice Age Man using digital reindeer

What would happen if we assumed ancient man was intelligent? One man did just that, and I haven’t been able to stop talking about it since. Which, incidentally, is a substantial reason to have 10 children, all of whom you homeschool. Captive audience. Professor John O’Shea is an archaeologist with the University of Michigan who likes to read. (It’s a good habit. Highly recommend.) One day, he was reading a book about subarctic reindeer* hunters and the stone structures they use to direct the animals. He was also studying a topographical map of the bottom of Lake Huron. The map included a feature known as Six Fathom Shoal, a continuous underwater ridge connecting southern Ontario to northeast Michigan. During the last days of the Ice Age, that ridge would have been above water, separating Lake Huron into two lakes. As John studied the map and read about the hunters, he realized that the ridge would have been a great place to hunt reindeer thousands of years ago. So he took a team and scanned the lake bottom. It wasn’t easy. The underwater ridge encompasses hundreds of square miles of lakebed, and just reaching the site required a 60-mile trip over unpredictable water. Expectations were low. Often the weather was too dangerous to even think about sailing, but on the rare occasions when they could get out of their port in Alpena, they used side scanning sonar to create a map of the lake bottom. One day, by “dumb luck” they stumbled upon something that maybe only John would have expected or recognized; a line of rocks. Stick with me here. On the leftside, of course You see, reindeer are essentially British. They like queues. Lines. Geometry, one might say, is their love language. To direct reindeer, a hunter can create a line on the ground, usually with stones – sometimes it amounts to a low fence This is called a “drive line.” When the reindeer encounter the line, even though they could easily jump over it, they will often walk alongside it wherever it leads. Not unlike Harold and the Purple Crayon. The line of rocks John O’Shea found on the bottom of the lake looked a lot like a drive lane. Further investigation by a tethered, unmanned underwater robot, and later, divers, revealed it was indeed a man-made drive lane, pointing towards a corral and a blind where the hunters could wait to kill the animals. An incredible, career-changing, history-making discovery. But it gets better. Next, John teamed up with Bob Reynolds from Wayne State University, and together they created a digital topographical map of Six Fathom Shoal during the Ice Age. They simulated rain, and the map filled with rivers, lakes, waterfalls, marshes and creeks. They enlisted botanists to look at the landscape and predict where different plants would have grown. And once the computer world was complete, they did the next sensible thing. They turned an entire herd of AI reindeer loose on the landscape. Initially, the AI reindeer had an annoying habit of walking off cliffs, gliding on stiff, pixelated legs to a swift digital death. The programming took a while to tweak, but as the weeks went on, the AI reindeer took on an increasingly lifelike set of behaviors. The herd was sent from one side of Six Fathom Shoal to the other, and patterns emerged as they learned which routes were best. Then John’ team asked modern reindeer hunters from Alaska and Canada to walk through the virtual landscape on computers, pointing out the best locations for blinds, campsites, and caches. They took intelligent human beings and asked them where they would hunt and then assumed that ancient man would hunt in the same places. Shocking. With this information in hand, they returned to inspect the sea floor. And that’s how they discovered a hunting structure they called “drop site 45.” Right in the location pinpointed as a choke site for the AI reindeer. This hunting site is the most sophisticated of its kind discovered to date. It includes a drive line, blinds, fire pits, and stone rings that indicate places where the hunters may have camped. They also found stone structures identical to those used by modern subarctic hunters to store caches of meat during the freezing winter months. Further investigation revealed stone tools, including one made with obsidian from Oregon. Yep. Oregon. Wagontire, Oregon, to be exact, over 2,000 miles away from the underwater ridge where it was found. Not bad for Ice Age hunters. “None of this matches the models we had about peoples in this region… you have to go back and be like, ‘All right, now we have this new data, what does that mean for what we thought about peoples that were living in the Great Lakes?’ You have to rewrite the story.” – Ashley Lemke, Professor at the University of Wisconsin Milwaukee Breaking down or evolving up? She’s right, of course. The models she’s talking about are based on the assumption that humans evolved from ape-like creatures, stumbling out of the dull fog of an animal existence to come to a shocking realization: “Fire… hot?” Of course we had never looked for evidence of Ice Age structures at Six Mile Shoal before, because the odds of such a creature building anything were slim. But what could we accomplish if we started with the assumption that man was created intelligent and capable, as the Bible teaches? Adam and Eve, coming straight from the hand of the Creator, had perfect genes. Those genes have only deteriorated a little more with each generation that passes. So those Ice Age hunters could well have been more intelligent than you or I. Computer models and sonar can recreate the Ice Age shorelines along the entire globe. What would happen if we looked at those maps and asked where we would build our cities, ports or villages? In some places, accumulated sediment has probably buried any Ice Age structures, but some remain. At the moment, our preferred method of finding these sites is dumb luck. That’s how we discovered a similar hunting drive line under the Baltic sea. The entire underwater world of Doggerland was also discovered by a series of accidents. What if we trusted the Biblical account enough to use less accidents and more “AI reindeer”? Shannon Skaer is an ancient history aficionado, homeschool mom, science nerd, and beekeeper. She lives in a small logging town in Oregon with her very own hero and their ten children. Her life could best be described as a love affair with beauty – which explains the number of babies – and her greatest joy is to know God, from whom all beauty comes. Find out more about her at www.shannonskaer.com. ***** *Reindeer is the fun name for Caribou. For this article, I refer to them as “reindeer” because I’m not a party pooper, and neither are you....

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The definition of patience

Patience. It’s a word we would never bother looking up in the dictionary because we already understand its meaning. But sometimes a well-known word can leap to life with new meaning and application when we read its formal definition. So consider what Dictionary.com has to say about patience. Patience: putting up with annoyance, misfortune, delay, or hardship, with fortitude and calm and without complaint, loss of temper, irritation or the like. It is an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay. Wow. Simply put, patience means not showing annoyance or anger with people or things that aren’t acting as we desire! From this definition we can deduce that we are very often…. not patient! This definition leads me to believe that the practice of “patience” or “impatience” relies almost completely on the words that come out of our mouths and the body language that we exhibit (heavy sighs, eye-rolling, stomping, slamming doors) when we do not like what is being said or done. Is patience an attitude then, or an action? Love is patient It definitely starts with an attitude – we have to decide how we are going to react, and we do that by recognizing what is right and wrong and then making our choice. In 1 Corinthians 13, Paul tells us that, “Love is patient.” That means that love puts up with "annoyance, misfortune, delay, and hardship with fortitude and calm and without complaint, loss of temper, or irritation." It means love is the "ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance." In Romans 12:9-21 Paul tells us how to behave like Christians. Part of that includes verse 12, which states, “rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulations, be steadfast in prayer.” That means that when we have tribulation (which means trials, troubles, problems, aggravations) we are supposed to put up with them with fortitude and calm and without complaint, loss of temper, or irritation; we are to suppress restlessness and annoyance. Excusing ourselves But patience is not easy, and it has become difficult to recognize right from wrong because our culture not only excuses impatience, it exalts it as a right and a virtue. It is “only understandable” to be impatient in traffic or standing in line, when confronted with confused or ignorant people, or in obtaining whatever it is that we need or want. Television commercials suggest that we grab each other’s breakfast food, race to beat our spouse to the better car, and complain loudly whenever things displease us. Life is all about indulgence and not letting anyone or anything get in our way. It is also very easy to excuse our behavior by blaming our impatience on our workload, our temperament, our upbringing, our heritage, our gender, or our age (whether young or old!). Recognizing the sin of impatience So let’s get the definition of patience correct first – let’s know right from wrong, because God tells us in several places that we are to be patient, including with family and church members. How do we talk to and about our church family? 1 Thessalonians 5:14 tells us that as we “warn the unruly, comfort the faint-hearted, and uphold the weak,” we are to “be patient with all” of them. This is different than “tsk-tsking” as we look down our noses. Paul tells us to express all the fruit of the Spirit spoken of in Galatians 5:22-23: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness and self-control. This involves not demanding our own perceived “rights” or our own way. It involves loving others more than ourselves for “love overlooks a multitude of sins” as well as mistakes and small differences (1 Peter 4:8). And it involves trusting God to take care of the details when there are delays and difficulties. We must drop the hurry and the worry about what others might think of us. Either we are acting patiently, or we are not. God’s written and preached Word can give us strength that helps us choose patient behavior. We exhibit this fruit of the Holy Spirit best when we are walking closest to Him. The Apostle Paul said in Romans: “So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me” (7:21). So true. But having a better definition of this sin will at least help us to identify our inclination towards it, and make it less excusable. God tells us to be patient: to put up with daily trials without complaint or irritation. The best news is that He promises strength through the Holy Spirit, and forgives our confessed sins daily as well. “Faithful is He who calls us, who also will do it” (1 Thess. 5:24). This article was first published in January 2017....

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My journey with books

It has been a long journey of books for me. I grew up with books, and as a child read from The Book of Knowledge encyclopedia, the Bobbsey Twins series and Grace Livingston Hill’s books. It was my own love for books which had me keep my nursing and my Bible College textbooks. But it was not until I met my husband-to-be John that I really discovered what it was to have books in the house – here was a man who loved books! On our very first date, when I mentioned that I had Berkoff’s Systematic Theology, John asked if maybe he could borrow it some time. I thought to myself, “There is no way he is going to get that textbook - I’ll never see it again!” For our first 3 months of marriage we lived with John’s parents in Oshawa, Ontario before we went to Grand Rapids, Michigan, where John was to study at Calvin Seminary. During those 3 months, I decided to straighten out John’s bookcases. That meant I put the books all in neat rows according to height and size – I was tired of look at those messy shelves. John was not a happy camper when he came home and found out that his books were not in subject order. Oh well, live and learn, in those early marriage days. More and more books Throughout his ministry, the supply of books increased. John mostly bought books at garage sales, library sales, or people would kindly give him books from their collections – he would never say no to that. But then we would need more bookshelves and more space. In all our moves the books came with us. From Vernon, BC to Wellandport, ON they came by train in the deep of winter. None were lost. He took about 400 books with us to the Philippines – ones he needed for teaching at the seminary. It was a challenge to sort and choose. He took some Dutch books as well, only to find that the bok-bok worm liked the glue in his Dutch books (but they had no interest in his cheap paperbacks). In all our pastorates John has his study in the house, taking up a bedroom for his books. In Wellandport the church built a special addition on to the parsonage for his study. That was much needed – our family of six needed the room. And the quantity of books continued to grow. All sorts John was happiest when he had a book and pen in his hand to make his own personal notes and scribbles – he did not use a highlighter for his markings. And he was quite an eclectic reader, his reading ranging from The Communist Manifesto to Francis Schaeffer’s writings. One of his favorite books to read again and again was Augustine’s Confessions. Right up there among his favorites were C.S. Lewis, Chuck Colson, Martyn Lloyd-Jones, and A. Kuyper. There was no end of his favorite special writers. I could tell when John was tired – that’s when he would pull out a good Dutch novel. Though he was a serious reader, John enjoyed a good mystery, the likes of Agatha Christie or G.K. Chesterton. Tools in his toolbox John was often asked if he had read them all. Yes, he would say. Mind you, some of them were strictly reference material for his sermons or articles. Did he keep every book he got from day one when he started his ministry? Believe it or not, he gave away a good number to future seminarians and threw out others that were no longer relevant or falling apart. Did it make a dent on the shelf? Hardly. At one point I had to put my foot down and say I did not want bookshelves in our bedroom or kitchen. Looking after all these books was a challenge, especially when it came to dusting and straightening up the shelves. Books are real dust collectors so every year around Christmas or New Years I would take them down, shelf by shelf, and give them all a good dusting. I would find pieces of paper stuck in a book, along with clippings, articles, and any other kind of paper for his notes. Yes books were part and parcel of John’s ministry and our married life. Books were his tools, just like that of a carpenter or painter. They had to be accessible somewhere, even if that meant a pile on the floor by his chair and not in a box in the cupboard. Passing on the tools The time came in John’s last 2 months when he could not hold a pen or a book, let alone have the stamina to read. That was a blow to give up something he loved dearly all his life. One of my hardest times was to go into his study where I saw piles of books he had gathered for his articles, his pens his notes and the discarded scraps of paper in his wastebasket… all just where he left it to the point of no return. A year later I sorted out John’s Dutch books, computer filed each title and author, boxed 1,300 of them and took them to the Canadian Reformed Seminary in Hamilton. I did the same with his English books, computer filed each title, and author, boxed 3,600 books, and took them to Redeemer Christian College University in Ancaster, Ontario. A few books went to family and to several of John’s colleagues. That was John’s wish and prayer – that his books would be used for God’s glory and His Kingdom. So this is my journey with books – from a few boxes when we arrived in Vernon, BC in 1966 to our life in London, ON where I took out over 200 boxes of books. The journey has been long and good and I certainly have no regrets living surrounded by books! For 13 years Rev. Johan Tangelder (1936-2009) – John – wrote articles for Reformed Perspective. You can find many of those articles here, and many more on his website. This article first appeared in the July 2011 issue....

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Navigating failure

Fear of failure can paralyze you. There’s a lot to be said about how, in order to succeed, you need to be comfortable with failure – but that doesn’t erase the fact that failing feels painful and shameful. Who wants that? Better to avoid it. Suddenly success becomes less important than “not failing.” And the only sure way to avoid all the feelings that come with not being able to do something is to not try it at all. Not trying assures you of not failing. But in trying to avoid failure, you can hold yourself back from doing things in your path that God has given you to do. So what’s a good way to navigate failure? There are two different approaches I've taken at different times of my life to deal with this fear of failure. They both begin with a question. What would you do – or attempt – or explore... 1) …if you knew you couldn’t fail – that it was impossible? 2) … if you were free to fail?” 1. What if you could not fail? “What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?” I first came across this question in a book called Launching a Leadership Revolution, but asking this kind of question is a pretty common approach to working with a fear of failure. Why? Because this question can be clarifying: stop thinking about what’s holding you back and start thinking about what you’d really want to do if you could. Once you know what you really want, then you can think about how to navigate the obstacles that might come up. If you never stop to think about what you really desire to accomplish, you could spend your whole life doing things that feel safe just because they feel safe, and miss what you might be uniquely suited to do. But this question can also be disheartening, and it certainly was for me back when I first read it. Because the answer was – a lot more than what I was doing at that moment. I can’t count how many times the fear of terrible things happening to me stopped me, all because I couldn’t count on these terrible things not happening. And I’m not alone in dreaming of a world of failure-free achievement, judging by the number of self-help books that use this quote. It is true that many successful people plowed on despite failure and in the face of more failure, but I couldn’t shake the nagging awareness of people who did plow on after failing and just kept on failing. I know failure isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But it can feel terrible. And there’s no guarantee that “keep trying” will lead to success. So I found it difficult to ignore the thought of failure, as this quote seemed to advise me to do. Or even to accept failure as part of the process. The quote did, however, inspire me to dream about what I’d like to achieve with my life. It helps cut to the chase of what you really want to do, even if you feel at the moment that it’s unachievable. Which brings me to the second approach. 2. What if you were free to fail? “When you’ve been found, you’re free to fail.” – James K.A. Smith, On the Road with St. Augustine When you’re young, life is more about trying to make choices about what you want to do, and that must’ve drawn me to the first question years ago. Maybe I’m drawn to this second quote more now as I’m older and navigating the result of my own and other people’s failures. Here’s the full quote in context: “Resting in the love of God doesn’t squelch ambition; it fuels it with a different fire. I don’t have to strive to get God to love me; rather, because God loves me unconditionally, I’m free to take risks and launch out into the deep. I’m released to aspire to use my gifts in gratitude, caught up in God’s mission for the sake of the world. When you’ve been found, you’re free to fail.” Rest, rather than striving. Release rather than control. And the peace of God’s love, rather than approval conditional on success. Humans judge on achievements. We compare each other, and we compare ourselves to each other, and in the age of social media it doesn’t take long to see how much we lack in comparison to everyone else. But if life is about what we produce, what we show, and whether we’ve made good on the promise or potential we showed at one point, how can we ever find peace? Good questions both I still like both questions though. What would you do if you knew you could not fail is for young people deciding what to do with their lives. They’re making decisions about paths to take. They’re trying to diagnose their passions. What if you’re free to fail is for when you get a little older. It’s for those days when you’re dealing with the knowledge you have failed at various things. You DID fail. What does that mean? How do you handle it? Failure hits us because we take it as a reflection of who we are and what we’re worth. But we’re urged to start from a place of acceptance – God’s acceptance. Sometimes failure weighs on us because we know our sin is involved. Our feelings of guilt add to the pain of failure. But the beauty of this quote is that it prevents us from relying on “fixing” ourselves – God makes us acceptable. God loved us even when we were dead in our sins, and He promises us no sin can come between us if we turn to Him. God doesn’t ask us to overcome our failures before He loves us. He makes us new, and we can rely on that. So this is not only about the type of failure you can learn from. It’s not just the kind of “failing so you know what to do better next time.” Not the kind of failing that life coaches advise you is good for you (“fail fast and fail hard!”). No, this applies to the kind of failing that seems completely futile, that seems to have no meaning and no lesson to learn. The kind of failure that can crush you and make you too paralyzed to do anything more. You need the promise you’re accepted no matter what. What we really need Because here’s the thing about failure: you won’t avoid it. In a broken world, you will crash and burn at some point. But maybe we face failure for a reason – to be reminded that we cannot go through life on our own. Failure forces us to face the reality we’re dependent on God. He has to take us through the next steps. Both of the above approaches to failure are quotes from human authors. But the Bible reminds us that God promises to be there in all our shortcomings. In 2 Cor. 12:9 we read how God reminded Paul that, “My power is made perfect in weakness,” and in Phil 1:6 Paul reminds us that God “who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” What God started, He will finish, and we can rest in that assurance. In the end, none of us will be failures. What we really need is not to reach certain milestones, to earn anything, or to look successful in the eyes of the world, but rather to learn that utter dependence on God. If you can let go and let God work out His plan for the world, you can trust He will bring everything to good. You can trust He knows the way even when you don’t....

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Taming busyness: practical tips

“If I’m caught up on my laundry, does that mean I’m not doing enough for the church?” “Am I allowed to fit in time for exercise, or only if it’s between 6 and 7 AM?” “Can I say ‘no’ to the women’s Bible study if it’s the only night this week that my husband and I are both home?” Even when our hearts and minds are in the right place, there are still to-do’s and deadlines, crises in our life, and decisions to be made (and, occasionally, goofy questions that cross our mind). Here are some of the tips women shared with me (quoted and paraphrased) to help tame the inevitable busyness of life. Be deliberate about the complications you add Be deliberate about the complications you add to your life… Our gadgets, our wardrobe, our extracurriculars, how we celebrate holidays – can we simplify? How busy are we with details that don’t really matter, or that add more stress than joy? Every commitment or complication you add to your life (joining a sports team, getting a pet, opening an Etsy shop, growing a garden) adds busyness – often more than we anticipate. Embrace these kinds of good opportunities, by all means, but choose the ones that will truly enrich your life and that fit in with your other priorities. Know your limits Don’t cheat your body – it really does need sleep, healthy food, and exercise (and maybe not quite that much caffeine). Recognize not just your limits of physical busyness, but also of being mentally/emotionally “used up.” “I used to ‘push through,’ but there’s always a payback time eventually.” “Develop healthy habits and trust God to care for you.” “When I cross the line to too busy, I start to take myself too seriously, I lose joy in my task, and the people that I presumably love the most in the world become burdensome to me. That is always my sign that I have to slow down.” “If I can’t help with something I can always pray for that person, activity, situation. I’m saying no but I trust that God is already there providing.” Know what’s important You will miss out on some good and worthwhile things – and so will your kids. If you know you’re saying “no” to something because you’re committed to what you’re saying “yes” to, it’s easier to let opportunities pass you by. “I decided that, at this stage of life, healthy meals are more important than a perfectly clean house. Maybe one day I’ll have time for both... or, maybe not.” “Sometimes ‘done’ is better than ‘perfect.’” “Accept a bit more chaos.” “There are times when I suddenly realize that all the kids are overdue for haircuts again, and the boys’ pants are showing a bit too much sock. But they’re all loved and fed so I try not to stress too much.” Know what “fills you up” Some things deplete us (and we can’t entirely avoid these things), while other things recharge us. Recognize the things that energize you, and find opportunities to do them: coaching a school team, baking cinnamon buns for a stressed-out friend, bringing flowers to shut-ins, writing an article? Start your day right What do you reach for first in the morning: your phone or your Bible? Treasure Sundays and breaks that refresh Sunday can bring its own busyness. If you’re not refreshed and refocused by your Sunday habits, does something need to change? Breaks are good, but sometimes they’re not truly rejuvenating. The last time you let yourself mindlessly scroll on your phone for a mental break, how did you actually feel afterwards? What if you took a short walk or picked up your devotional instead? Identify your biggest time-waster(s) Where or how do you get most distracted and waste the most time, without any significant benefit to yourself or others? Reclaim some of this “lost time”: set time limits for yourself, ask for accountability from a loved one, or remove the source of a temptation. Do the small thing when you can’t do the big one No time for that visit? You can send an encouraging note. Never seem to make it to the gym? Find a ten-minute online workout. Something is (almost) always better than nothing. “Do a little and trust that God will use it.” Spread the load If you’re a mom – kids and chores: how well acquainted are yours? Your investment of time in teaching your kids helpful skills will pay off for everyone, not least for your kids themselves. Do you have a friend or sibling with different strengths than you? Could you swap some tasks in a way that benefits you both? Get extra mileage out of your time “I listen to the Bible on audio while driving, or cooking.” “We use our dinner times to intentionally check in with our kids, try to have meaningful conversations and stay connected.” “Turn all those driving time (sports, appointments, etc.) into one-on-one ‘dates’ with your kids. Often great conversations happen when it’s just the two of you in the car.” “If you’re running an errand, always take one child along.” Kids and chores: are yours acquainted? Recognize there are different seasons in life Although balance is a good overall goal, there are seasons that will feel out of balance. There are also times when certain things we’d love to do just aren’t possible because of the pressing needs of the moment. One mom shared with me that she used to get frustrated because it was hard to find quiet time for devotions with her young kids around. So she started doing devotions with them instead – reading and praying out loud, and letting her kids “take notes” in their own little notebooks while she journaled. It’s been a good solution for this stage of her life. “Looking back, the time when my kids were small and were all at home was so short. Why was I so impatient to try to fit in all kinds of other things?” Count your blessings “Sometimes when I feel complain-y about all the things I have to do, I think about my immigrant grandmothers. I have choices and conveniences they never would’ve dreamed of. It’s a good reality check.” ...

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The evil of simplicity

If ever there was an idol thoroughly ripe and ready for a great heaving into eternal hell fire, it has to be the idol of simplicity. This leapt to my attention, not for the first time, this morning when I made the grave mistake of wandering from the “Holds” section of our depraved local library and into the cookbook aisle. My sight was immediately accosted with drivel — 5 Easy Ways to Feed People So That They Will Never Ask You to Do It Again, Eating with No Grain and Only a Fraction of a Grimace, and Whole 30 to Become Half a Human. I might be paraphrasing. A little. We are people captivated by convenience and ease, by a false simplicity. The only simplicity worth having is that simplicity we don’t want: simplicity of heart, childlike faith, accepting what our Father gives us without throwing a fit about it, because He is our dad and if He says we need it, then we do. Everything spelled out? No, we have no use for true simplicity. We want systems. We want all the ways to save time, money and calories. There is a paradox here – true simplicity gives rise to perfect complexity, the sort that can be in awe of fungus that is good to eat, and in awe of the mystery of breastfeeding, the sort that can know it is worthwhile to make a thing with your own hands, and that saving time can be the most deadly waste of all. But when simplicity is the goal in and of itself, all such glorious complexity is once and for all abandoned for the sake of efficiency, of economy, of a time-saving system or technique. Ironically, our quest for simplicity often goes hand in hand with a devotion to busyness, and thus the vicious cycle is born. You worry that if the only socialization your kids receive is at home (gah, what if they start talking like me??) and at church, such that they will grow up to be like that oddball who sings with a sign on the corners of intersections trying to get you to buy mattresses. So you sign them up for activities and sports and lessons (I wonder how many of the decisions we make as parents have their beginnings in fear...). This busyness drives you to seek out ways to “maximize your time.” You meal prep – perhaps you cook one day a month and freeze it, if you are an ambitious homemaker at heart, or maybe you just buy pre-packaged meals and snacks, things that can be heated up quickly or eaten on the run. You make a detailed plan for getting all the laundry done as you seek the simple life... but true simplicity just does the wash, and thanks God for having people to dirty the clothes He gave you. The quest for simplicity blinds us to the stunning complexity that is living. Simple shouldn’t drive Don’t get me wrong – the frozen pizza is not the problem. I love frozen pizza and canned food is a gift. It is always about the heart. Simplicity is a bad master. So is complexity, for that matter. Pride creeps in on both fields and makes a mess of our enjoyments and our work. All well and good, you might be saying, but the laundry actually does need doing and I think better with a system! Without a plan, my whole house reeks of stinky socks! Take a breath (well, unless you haven’t been doing your laundry). This is not an indictment of planning or of systems. It is not even necessarily a criticism of trying to find the easiest, fastest, cheapest way to do things. There are good reasons for pursuing all of these goals. The evil I find is when the means becomes the end. We are a forgetful people; we build idols out of anything and everything. So much to appreciate Let’s contemplate an example of what I am talking about, shall we? It is August as I write this and all the vegetables on the farm are ripe for the taking. There is tremendous abundance. I am delighted by everything about summer squash: the color of sunshine, the smooth, thin exterior, the butter-colored flesh, and a flavor mild enough to serve with anything. Our visit to the library was cut blissfully and providentially short by the knowledge that we needed to get back home in time to bake a Yukon gold potato and summer squash torte that I had prepared for lunch. This delicious dish was new to me and I think it demonstrates the principle I am fumbling around to express. There is nothing inherently difficult or fussy about this torte. It is thinly sliced potato and squash, layered with drizzles of olive oil and a cheese and salt and pepper mixture, with green onions sprinkled throughout, baked to a golden, crispy-edged perfection. Yet it was captivating – appreciation led me to take the time to slice, to stir, to grind, to arrange, to bake. It took time and attention to use the gifts of the ultimate Husbandman well, and the result was lovely, a feast for the senses. It was not the easiest way to use the vegetables, it was not the least expensive lunch, it was in no way time saving. But there is glory in gratitude. One of the interesting side effects of offering up your time and money and effort during the preparation of a thing is that it tends to encourage a similar offering up in the receiving of the thing. A torte that took two hours to prepare (not even considering the time and effort spent in the growing of the vegetables) could certainly be scarfed down in mere moments... but it felt so natural to eat it slowly, to lift layers and perceive what the heat of the oven had accomplished in the time it was given. Simple, right? His world is far from simple You are up to your eyeballs in the generous, way over-the-top gifts of God. And the only simple part of this gift-giving is meant to be the receiving – wide-eyed, hands clapping, laughter bubbling out of you because He did it again! He made wild things grow in the wood, He caused the carpet fibers to hold their form and be soft under your feet, He spoke flowers and hummingbirds and green lacewings into existence and taught them to dance. So sing while you work, drink your water from a pretty glass, be in awe that hair can be combed, live amazed. He has not given you the future; today’s gifts are more than enough to keep you occupied, to fill your arms and your thoughts and your affections. This story is way too big to waste on simplicity....

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Dominee’s friend

There is style and there is class. Dominee may not have had much style, as the world considers style, but he had class. Dominee had accepted a call to another church. At such a time we cover up the pain of separation with laughter. How could we be happy? This was the man whom God had sent to us to speak to us the Word of God every Sunday. We heard the voice of the Great Shepherd through His under-shepherd twice every Lord’s day. Because Dominee’s voice was so familiar, and his sermons somewhat predictable, we thought we knew him. We knew from the cadence of his heavily accented sentences when he was wrapping up the sermon — just the final song yet, and the benediction, and we’d soon be outside chatting, swapping stories, and laughing. Dominee was not what you would call an especially stylish man. During all the years he preached to us he wore a grey suit. He may have replaced it with a new one once in a while, but we never noticed because the new one was identical to the previous. Nothing stylish about Dominee. Even when he would drop by because of illness in the family or if someone needed encouragement, he’d wear a grey suit. We thought we knew him, until his farewell evening. As I said, when we are sad, we turn to laughter. To cover up our sadness. The farewell evening had begun and was evolving in a predictable way. There was only one unusual thing that immediately caught everyone’s attention. Near the front of the church sat an old Sikh gentleman and his wife. We could tell he was a Sikh because he was wearing a turban. The turban happened to be pink. Later I was told it was, in fact, lavender. The chairman of the men’s society, a serious man, ascended the pulpit. He read some Scripture, prayed, and invited us to sing a well-known Psalm. On behalf of the men’s society, he spoke some kind words of farewell to Dominee, his wife, and the children, and then presented them with a gift, a beautiful painting of local scenery: “We don’t want you to forget this beautiful part of the country!” This was followed by several presentations — women’s, young people’s, youth. And on it went, predictably and comfortably. The presentations alternated between funny, sad, and poignant. But mostly we laughed. When the elders and deacons performed a humorous skit about Dominee’s typical way of leading a meeting, we laughed heartily. When one of Dominee’s local colleagues told a story about Dominee at a classis meeting, we laughed so hard we thought our sides were going to burst. After several hours, when everyone was good and ready for coffee and cake, the chairman of the men’s society ascended the pulpit once again. With gravity, he thanked everyone for coming, bade Dominee farewell once more, and asked if there was anyone whom he had missed, or who had not been on the program but yet wanted to say something. The Sikh gentleman stood up. Well, this was interesting. Slowly, with age and dignity, he walked to the front of the church. He began to speak. This was very interesting. No one could remember a Sikh speaking in our church. He began to tell a story. It had been a hot summer afternoon when he and his wife were walking along the sidewalk. Suddenly overcome by heat, thirst, and exhaustion, he sat on a stone wall in front of a house. That house, as it turned out, was the Manse. Dominee was sitting in the shade reading a newspaper from the old country that had just come in the mail. He noticed the Sikh man sitting at the end of the driveway on the stone wall, and the man’s wife bending over him with a look of concern on her face. Dominee got up to see if he could help. “My husband is very thirsty,” said the lady. “Could he please have some water?” Dominee went to the house and came back with a pitcher of water and some glasses. He poured two glasses of water, and then he took a moment to speak about the other water, the living water that Jesus provides. On that day Dominee and the Sikh became friends. The Sikh gentleman and his wife would drop by more often to talk with Dominee. We never knew. We thought we knew our Dominee. We all listened intently to the Sikh as he told us the story about our kind Dominee. He considered it an honor to count him a friend and wanted to give him a parting gift. The Sikh explained that it was their custom to give the turban they are wearing to their departing friend. The turban would be a reminder of their friendship. With that the Sikh removed the turban from his head, reached forward, and placed it on Dominee’s head. Dominee was mostly bald and had a smaller head than his Sikh friend, and so the turban sank down over Dominee’s forehead. It was a sight to behold! Our Dominee clothed in his trademark grey suit, the only way we had ever seen him in all the years he had ministered to us, wearing a lavender-colored turban. No one laughed, snickered, or tittered. Instead, after a moment during which you could have heard a pin drop, the congregation slowly rose and began to clap. We did not know whether we were clapping for Dominee or the Sikh. Likely, we were clapping for the Lord. We had seen a remarkable thing. Our immigrant congregation may not have had much style, but on that evening we had class. Dominee wore the turban for the rest of the evening, during coffee and as we all came by his table to say farewell. He wore it with pride. Dominee did not have much style, but he had a lot of class. And we thought we knew him. There is style, and there is class. This is a true story, which I experienced as an adolescent boy at the departure of a neighboring minister. The references to style and class were inspired by Sietze Buning’s “Style and Class” collection of poems. This first appeared in the January 2015 issue....

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Veya’s story

The fight for her life in a broken and biased healthcare system – one that sees doctors perpetrating euthanasia and abortion and calling them both medical care. ***** “Our sweet Veya Hope ran into the arms of Jesus yesterday.” So shared Veya’s mother, Krystal Vanderbrugghen, on her Instagram page on August 2, 2025. Krystal continued: “Her name was her calling – Hope. She carried it with her every single day she spent inside those hospital rooms and gave it to all who knew her.” Veya was first introduced to the waiting world, and to the arms of her parents Krystal and Jeremy, just a year and a half earlier, on December 4, 2023. Although the LORD didn’t have many days allotted for Veya here on Earth, her life touched tens of thousands of hearts. And her experiences here also exposed just how difficult it can be to fight for care in a broken world and medical system. “We pray that Veya’s story continues to encourage other families who are given this same precious gift – the gift of loving and raising a child with Down Syndrome,” Krystal explained. Hope born Jeremy and Krystal, along with their other children Ivylee, Irelyn, and Lincoln, live in Caledonia, Ontario. In the fall of 2023, as they were eagerly awaiting the birth of another child, they learned that their baby had a congenital heart defect which would require surgery at some point after birth. “While this is a lot to process, we know without a doubt God truly has a perfect plan for this baby even though the road ahead is filled with uncertainties.” That’s what Krystal shared at that time on Instagram, not realizing just how true these words would be for her and her family. She would continue to share, with all who took an interest, the challenges of the road they were on. In an appearance on RP’s Real Talk podcast earlier this year, talking with Lucas Holtvluwer, Krystal explained that hospital stays brought their own problems. “She was born with Down Syndrome and a cardiac defect – pretty straightforward – but she has now encountered some medical complexities from living her life in a hospital this long and from delayed treatments.” One complication and delay led to another, and Veya was transferred from Hamilton’s McMaster Hospital to SickKids Hospital in Toronto, which is one of the leading children’s hospitals in the world. Crumbling care “Our journey started off really great, like we had teams that were really invested,” Krystal explained to Lucas. “But then we experienced her care declining January of this year, so that kind of set her on a totally different trajectory.” “Specifically with her last ICU admission, you could just tell through the conversations with the doctors that they were really just trying to wrap things up with her and kind of coerce us into letting her go rather than help her,” she shared on the podcast. “I feel like the team coach, trying to keep the spirits alive…. But they all just kind of vanished.” Krystal was particularly confused when Veya was denied a necessary liver transplant. She asked their Pediatric Advanced Care team if it was Veya’s Down Syndrome that was influencing their decision-making. “They can never say yes or no, but they said, ‘Mom, I think you know the answer to that deep down in your heart.’ And I said, ‘well, that is the confirmation.’” One particular incident really broke Krystal’s trust in Veya’s care. “Right after her liver surgery, she got RSV , and then a few days after that, she got overdosed with a lethal amount of potassium. It wasn't just a little bit, it was 10 times the regular amount that she normally gets, and it was during the evening when none of us were there.” Veya’s heart rate went to 350 beats per minute, and she had to be shocked three times to stabilize her. “I do have questions whether it actually was an accident or not, because these sorts of things happen when families step away. So, the timing of it, but also the amount. You know, it's one thing, if you gave a little extra, but 10 times the amount, like, an actual lethal dose?” Growing support Krystal shared the ups and downs of Veya’s journey on her Instagram account. Her photos, videos, and touching words lit a fire in many hearts around the world, and she ended up with close to 40,000 Instagram followers, many of whom were praying for Veya, and encouraging Krystal and her family. “For me, social media was like an open diary and a way for me to process but also a way for me to be able to connect with others that were raising children with Down Syndrome, because I knew nothing about it, and so it's been a really great place for resources and connecting.” But the care hasn’t only been virtual. Krystal and Jeremy are members of Trinity Canadian Reformed Church in Glanbrook, Ontario. And as she told Lucas back in July, “Our church community, they're phenomenal. I'll tell you this, we had a meal train set up for Veya when she was born, and we are 19 months into this and that same meal train is still going.” She added that the amount of support they have received allowed them to be fully present and to advocate for Veya, because everything else was being taken care of. The many prayers that were raised for their family carried them. “I don't think my husband and I really understood that till we lived this experience. Like you really feel carried by prayers. There's just this indescribable peace that comes with it.” Growing faith We read in James 1:3 how “the testing of your faith produces endurance” and Krystal attested to this when speaking about their journey prior to Veya’s death. “As much as we want to enter the next season of life and be off of this medical journey, there's a part of you that doesn't, because of the experience you have with God's nearness. Because it forces you to slow down and really lean into Him. “….The ways we've experienced God's goodness and care over these 19 months, we're forever thankful for that. Faith is not without pain. It's there to give you the courage to face it, right? And a lot of times this journey has really forced us to our knees.” She later added that, as hard as it has been, they have seen so much good come from this journey already, particularly with the many interactions with people in the hospital. Seeking justice After Veya’s promotion to glory, Krystal shared with Reformed Perspective that they hope to have further meetings with SickKids Hospital regarding the neglect that Veya experienced, which Krystal sees as a push to end Veya’s life rather than care for it. “What was happening was the team was trying to 'stealth euthanize' Veya through means of denying life-saving measures.” They are working with other families who experienced similar harms for their medically complex children at the same hospital, seeking to raise their concerns collectively. Her hope is to see a formal acknowledgement of harm, public reporting requirements, independent investigations, disability rights training, and whistleblower protection so that staff can report unsafe practices without fear of losing their jobs. Although she has devoted much of her past couple of years to being an advocate for Veya and others with disabilities, she also understands that she can only do so much. And that is OK. “Our God, The Creator of Life has the final say.” Advice for others When asked by RP what advice she would have for other families who may face similar situations, she urged them to document everything, including conversations and decisions, names, and copies of medical records. She also advised to never go into important meetings alone. Bring someone to witness and support you. Further, use clear and assertive language like “can you explain in writing why you are denying this treatment?” And if there are concerns, escalate them by asking to speak with a patient’s relations person or ombudsman, or even filing a complaint with the hospital leadership or licensing board. She encourages others to seek a second, or third opinion, and not be afraid to transfer care to another institution, even if it feels scary. And “trust your instincts – God gives them to us for a reason!” You know your child best so “if something feels wrong, it probably is.” Most soberly, she warns “know that Canada has become a death culture.” In an age where it has become legal to end the life of someone who requests it simply because they are suffering, it becomes all the more important to be on guard for the care of our loved ones, particularly those who are more vulnerable. “Instead of offering care, too many hospitals offer ‘comfort care only.’ Instead of fighting for life, they push families towards giving up and will blame you for your loved one’s suffering.” Her final advice is most encouraging. “You are not alone, God goes behind you and before you…. When you are battling the medical system for your child never forget to stop and ask God for guidance, strength, wisdom and peace. He sees, He knows, and He will lead you step by step.” A tribute for Veya In the weeks following Veya’s death, Krystal paid tribute to Veya with these words: “I didn’t have to look into your eyes to fall in love with you. I didn’t need to hear your soft, raspy cry to know you loved me too. I didn’t have to hold your hands to cherish you forever – because from the very beginning, within my womb, our hearts were already intertwined. “Veya, you changed me. Through you God gave me a deep perspective. You touched my soul and awakened a love so deep that can only be explained by His goodness. You gave me countless memories that I will hold close for the rest of my life. My heart aches in a way words can’t fully capture, and I know that ache won’t leave until we’re together again. …Though the longing never fades, each day moves me closer to the joy of holding you in Heaven.” Pictures used with permission of the Vanderbrugghens....

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A hill to die on

A couple of weeks ago, I attended a public lecture by Dr. Jordan Peterson at the University of Western Ontario. For those of you who don’t know, Dr. Peterson has found himself the target of transgender activists, some of whom actually claim that his refusal to use recently-invented “transgender pronouns” constituted violence. Labeling someone a perpetrator of violence for refusing to use the words you just made up, of course, also allows you to begin perpetrating real violence in response, and this has resulted in Peterson’s lectures being shut down by angry mobs. After the lecture, one student asked Peterson an interesting question. You’ve articulated at great length the dangers of post-modernism and political correctness, the student pointed out. But why this issue? Why choose transgender pronouns as the proverbial hill to die on? Peterson’s response was striking. “Why not?” he replied. When you’re fighting a war, there’s very rarely a compelling reason to die for the next yard of soil – but that’s how wars are won, and that is how the line is held – yard by yard. You have to pick something, and this is what I chose. His response reminded me of something I wrote about at length in my own book The Culture War: the tendency of Christians to count the cost and decide to opt out of fighting. Secular progressives are willing to fight a bloody war of attrition for every crimson inch of soil, from prayers at city council meetings to nativity scenes in public to launching cyber-lynch mobs on little old ladies who don’t want to bake cakes for gay weddings. Christians, on the other hand, often cave at the first sign of pressure. Douglas Wilson commented wryly on this habit on his blog in 2015: Whenever we get to that elusive and ever-receding “hill to die on,” we will discover, upon our arrival there, that it only looked like a hill to die on from a distance. Up close, when the possible dying is also up close, it kind of looks like every other hill. All of a sudden it looks like a hill to stay alive on, covered over with topsoil that looks suspiciously like common ground. So it turns out that surrendering hills is not the best way to train for defending the most important ones. Retreat is habit-forming. Now granted, as I’ve written before, Christians are often too busy raising their families and trying to live their lives to take a stand in the culture wars. For every baker or florist who gets targeted by gay rights activists, you can bet there are hundreds of others who quietly knuckled under to avoid becoming the center of a noisy lawsuit. But we need more men like Dr. Jordan Peterson. He may not be a Christian, but he is, as one writer so eloquently put it, “the frog that wouldn’t boil.” Each yard of ground we give up without a fight is another step closer to being backed into a corner. Dr. Peterson was willing to take a stand. He was willing to stop, look around, and say “Here. This is where I fight.” Each of us will have to make that decision sometime in the near future. And better now than later – it is easier to defend territory than it is to reclaim it. Jonathon Van Maren is the author of The Culture War and blogs at The theBridgehead.ca This article was first published in 2017....

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Why I don’t have a bucket list

Admittedly, to get guilt tripped into a camping trip exposes character weakness on my part. When someone bounds up to you, excited as a kitten encountering his first ball of yarn, and says they have the best idea for a geology fieldtrip, spanning 3 days (“ooh, ooh, no let’s turn it into 4!”), 400 miles, and something like 8 piles of rocks, any person with their wits about them would laugh and say, “Y’all have fun now, I’ll be over here, sleeping in my own bed.” People who camp on purpose, non-ironically, are an utter mystery to me. The more I learn about camping, the more outrageous and certifiable it seems! Did you know that KOA (one of the largest campground empires in the United States and yes, there is such a thing as a campground empire) stands for Kampgrounds of America?? How are we not promoting illiteracy and the overall degradation of our dignity by paying these people to borrow their dirt so we can sleep on it? Did you further know that after you have paid to sleep on dirt out in “nature,” you still are required to either buy or pack in your own wood for building campfires? In the (wait for it...) woods? Yet for the longest time during the diabolical planning of this trip, whose chief stated end was to go and stare at rocks, I could not bring myself to say “no, absolutely not, life is too short.” Which leads me to the character flaw, and my grandmother. ***** In the same week that this trip was scheduled to take place, I received word that my grandmother, my dad’s 94-year-old mother, had suffered a severe stroke. As I write this, I await further word on her condition; things didn’t look good last night. So I have been contemplating my grandmother, someone I have always found to be remarkable and not, perhaps, for the usual reasons. My grandmother was the quintessential farmwife. She raised four children, kept a lovely home, and was known for feeding people well. In many ways, I didn’t truly get to know her until I got married at age 20 and we both discovered that I shared her love of beautiful dishes, and of tables set to appeal to the senses. It was something she was teased about a bit over the years, her large collections of glassware, full sets of tableware, antique bowls and coffee service, but it has captivated me since childhood. She gave me my first everyday serving bowls when my oldest was a toddler – the same ones she used when her kids were little, and then proceeded to gift me antique glassware for my birthday for the next nearly 20 years. The year the glassware stopped was the same year she stopped calling on my birthday; that was, perhaps, the first time a birthday ever made me feel my age. I was blessed with 2 beautiful, intelligent farming grandmothers growing up; my mom’s mom went to the Lord a couple of years ago, and I like to think there are flavors of each of these women’s influences in my own farmwife homemaking. My maternal grandmother was known for ingenuity with the food at hand, with using her abundant garden to set visually peaceful tables, with the sort of minimalism that employs only that which is meaningful. My paternal grandmother was known for overflowing tables (why serve one kind of meat when you could serve three?), and for leftovers that could feed an army, created with simple recipes that everyone loved, served with what I find to be an uncommon blend of elegance and utility. She had no shame in making her mashed potatoes from a box, and paper napkins were a blessing. No one ever left her table hungry. I asked her once to teach me how she cooked various meats, how her meals always taste so good. She shrugged and said, “just a little salt and pepper?” As a person tempted by gourmet magazines, it was an important lesson for me. ***** And this, obviously, leads me to the ill-fated camping trip (not obvious, you say? We should spend more time together). The thing that guilted me into agreeing to this grand adventure of curiosity and literally leaving no stone unturned was the feeling that good mothers, or for that matter, that really interesting people, are the sort who long to travel the world, to always be experiencing new things. They are the ones who cannot simply read about a volcano, they have to climb it! At sunrise! And then go glissading down it, trying all the while to avoid hidden frozen lakes (you think I am making this up. Friend, I couldn’t make this stuff up. I refer you to your friendly neighborhood internet browser to prove the point)! How could I be worth anything at all if my bucket list was not perpetually on the verge of overflow? What does the truth – that I don’t even have a bucket list– say about me, about my value as a mother, as a wife, as a Christian? My grandmother has run well. She has lived an extraordinary life, and why? Because her life has been marked by extraordinary faithfulness to the task at hand. She has steadily built the portion of the kingdom wall God put in front of her. The pitfall I fell into was to believe that true faithfulness had to look different than embracing the life God has given me – it had to look both more “normal” and more exciting. I gave room to the lie that setting a gracious table was inferior to seeing something new, to having an adventure outside my own home. I am kicking myself as I write this... how could I have been so daft as to think that kicking rocks was more full of glory than grilling fresh corn on the cob, that sleeping on dirt had more inherent value than putting clean sheets on my family’s beds? Sitting here in the morning light, having removed myself from the geology fieldtrip, the truth of what it means to live well shines brightly before me. Only what’s done for Christ will last....

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