As a member of EBC's task force, I was inspired by the numbers of dedicated people already serving the needs of Saskatoon's poorest and most at-risk populations. My previously very narrow understanding of services provided was expanded ten-fold in just one short month. The scope of some of the agencies kind of blew me away...really! The commitment and professionalism of the many people with whom I spoke made me realize what I've been missing out on! Each one had very good ideas of where Emmanuel might fit into the picture.
One of the most moving, and yet almost haunting parting comments I received went something like this, "It was a pleasure meeting you. Perhaps we'll meet again. I firmly believe that the Creator brings people into my life for a reason and I'm excited to see where this will lead us." Moving, because it carried an honest, spiritual context and that was unexpected. Haunting, because I wasn't sure if our paths would cross again in the way the individual might be hoping they would.
I think what made this experience so real for me was that I was the student, sometimes on the phone, sometimes at my computer, and a couple of times physically present in the environment in which these people move, work, and contribute every day! I don't know what this will eventually look for me, as an individual. But, I can guarantee that I have an enormous amount of respect for those who are meeting people where they are, seeking to encourage them and enhance their lives in whatever means they can. That's good stuff & I'm glad I'm witness to it!
6.08.2010
6.04.2010
She's Got a Bigger Bucket
What I've learned about her so far is this: generosity becomes her. It is her stock in trade.
In some ways she's like so many. In many other ways, she's utterly unique. Some say she looks like that one down the street, or that more famous one we read about in books. I say it doesn't matter too much because when I look at her I see a striking resemblance to her dad and that's what I find most attractive.
When I first met her she was doling out grace to anyone who needed it (and even those who said they didn't). It was astonishing to watch as people came with whatever they had--paper cups, bowls, bags and tanker trucks--and she just filled them up again and again and again out of a bucket that seemed never to empty. So generous.
It's been like that ever since save for one significant difference: she's got a bigger bucket.
Recently I asked her about that and this is what she said:
"When my dad saw what I was doing--giving out grace the way I was--he gave me a bigger bucket to carry more so I can give more. It happens all the time. When I give, I get more to give and my bucket gets bigger."
"Don't you ever get tired of giving? Like, aren't you worried you'll run out? I mean, surely there's a limit, right? You've got to make sure there's enough for yourself, right?" I asked.
Knowing now what I didn't know then, she had every reason to give me a slap upside my head, or get all preachy and angry and call me out for my narrow view and weak faith. But she didn't. Instead she motioned for me to come closer. When I did, she lifted up her giant bucket and poured its contents out over my head. As she set the bucket down, she said, "None of this belongs to me. I don't own any of this. It wasn't mine to start with and it isn't mine now. It's all my dad's. Every last drop. But he let's me dish it out in ridiculously large portions to anyone who needs it (and even those who say they don't). And when it's empty, he fills it back up and I get to do it again."
Sure enough. In the few seconds it took for her to speak that lovely, gentle rebuke, her bucket had filled again, and I found myself staring at my grace-soaked reflection in the clear mirror of its surface. Then, as I suspect it's done all along, surface tension gave way and grace started pouring over the sides.
She's going to need a bigger bucket.
In some ways she's like so many. In many other ways, she's utterly unique. Some say she looks like that one down the street, or that more famous one we read about in books. I say it doesn't matter too much because when I look at her I see a striking resemblance to her dad and that's what I find most attractive.
When I first met her she was doling out grace to anyone who needed it (and even those who said they didn't). It was astonishing to watch as people came with whatever they had--paper cups, bowls, bags and tanker trucks--and she just filled them up again and again and again out of a bucket that seemed never to empty. So generous.
It's been like that ever since save for one significant difference: she's got a bigger bucket.
Recently I asked her about that and this is what she said:
"When my dad saw what I was doing--giving out grace the way I was--he gave me a bigger bucket to carry more so I can give more. It happens all the time. When I give, I get more to give and my bucket gets bigger."
"Don't you ever get tired of giving? Like, aren't you worried you'll run out? I mean, surely there's a limit, right? You've got to make sure there's enough for yourself, right?" I asked.
Knowing now what I didn't know then, she had every reason to give me a slap upside my head, or get all preachy and angry and call me out for my narrow view and weak faith. But she didn't. Instead she motioned for me to come closer. When I did, she lifted up her giant bucket and poured its contents out over my head. As she set the bucket down, she said, "None of this belongs to me. I don't own any of this. It wasn't mine to start with and it isn't mine now. It's all my dad's. Every last drop. But he let's me dish it out in ridiculously large portions to anyone who needs it (and even those who say they don't). And when it's empty, he fills it back up and I get to do it again."
Sure enough. In the few seconds it took for her to speak that lovely, gentle rebuke, her bucket had filled again, and I found myself staring at my grace-soaked reflection in the clear mirror of its surface. Then, as I suspect it's done all along, surface tension gave way and grace started pouring over the sides.
She's going to need a bigger bucket.
6.03.2010
Conversation Starters
I recently came across this photo on Imago Dei's website and I think it poses a good question -- how well do we listen and respond to God's invitation to be his Kingdom in our daily lives? For that matter, how well do we listen to the plight of our neighbors as we each struggle with our existence? How prepared are we to embrace the life God calls us to?
The last few years at Emmanuel have seen a heightened attentiveness and desire for meeting the needs of the marginalized in Saskatoon's downtown/inner-city core. Increasingly conversations around these questions and issues seem to have been popping up in all sorts of ways and settings. As a result of this stirring in our collective heart, our community has begun to take a more intentional approach to exploring what this stirring might mean for us beyond our current partnerships. We want to ask God what more he has for us in this time and this place.
Over the course of one month, April 17th-May 17th, 2010 a group of twenty-five people from representing all three of Emmanuel's communities gathered to form a task force with a mandate to investigate what an expanded presence and engagement with the marginalized in the core of Saskatoon might look like for our church family. Those lovely folks worked tirelessly for that month (and some even a little past) and engaged in conversations with various levels of government, other faith communities, community organizations, zoning & bylaw officials, and our friends at the Bridge on 20th to learn about the needs in our city and what is currently happening to alleviate those burdens.
As we explored, the task force not only gathered information but formed new friendships and found beauty and inspiration in surprising places. And as we worked to write the report of our findings we suddenly felt that we would be missing a huge piece of the process if we neglected listening to the individual experiences and lessons learned over that time and the ways that God is speaking into those experiences. And so we thought "what about asking these friends of ours to reflect on their experiences as a way of sharing the excitement we feel about this project?". So here it is -- a storyteller's platform, an educational forum, a vision, a journey. In other words, a blog.
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