Is that really so?

I have been trying to wrap my head around what is true, and have found myself in a place where I do not know anything. I start praying out of habit, but then questioning if there is even a God. The thing is I want to believe in God, and in Christ, that causes me no problem. The problem is that I have no way of knowing if they are real. I want my beliefs to accurately reflect reality, but I don't know how to make that so.
When I think about Monks through ages, they spent their whole lives trying to know God, and yet they all had different ideas about certain things. I have been reading Thomas A. Kempt (The Imitation of Christ) and I think that he is wrong about things. Namely that he seems to think that he must work a lot to be able to go to heaven and he feels no security in what Christ has already done. Who am I to say that he is wrong? If he could be wrong about something, then I could be wrong about something. I am sure that I am wrong in some of my beliefs, but then I fear, what if I am wrong about some of the major things I believe. What if there is no God. How can I know?
My life is centred around my faith in Jesus. My reasons for everything I do rest on my faith in God. I would be lost without my beliefs. I am lost. Even my thoughts of trying to work this week are rather foggy as my perception of God is foggy.
A lot of people have a lot of strong believes in a lot of different things, and someone who thinks differently than me isn’t stupid, unlearned or evil. They might even be right, just as I might be right.
I have no reason to doubt that God exists. I have no evidence against Christ, but I am sure that I must believe many wrong things, because there are so many different beliefs out there and I am not always right. The question then is which of my beliefs reflect reality, and which ones should just be thrown out?

I ran a race

In a santa suit!
10K in 49:22

R.I.P Occuplaza, long live OCCUPY!

Every now and then I would hear about Occupy, but never really enough to fully understand it. My favourite way to learn about people is from the people themselves, so I had the desire to go down and talk with the people who were camping out. But, I kept putting it off. Then I read that the court had ordered them out by Friday at 2pm. I did not get down to the Occupy Camp until Thursday night. I took my tent and headed down. I thought that would be the best way to understand what was going on. I wasn’t sure what they stood for, but I believed that they had a right to say it, and that was enough to get me to go a support them.
I had no idea what would happen once I got there. I turned out that they had a plan in mind; plan of creative resistance, a plan to leave the plaza, but not without pointing out the injustice of their silencing. I met people I will never forget; people who have chosen community over comfort.
It was an honour to be a part of their last night at the Plaza, but counter to the media portrayal, this was not their last stand. Occupy lives on. There was such a community created at the camp that ridding the plaza of tents far from disbands the group. “The occupation was in-tents”, but it will continue even when the tents are gone. I believe that is party why the Occupiers could leave peacefully, and even before their eviction. They knew that it was far from the end, as one of the signs read: “ideas can’t be evicted”.
I had conversations with occupiers that I will never forget. One guy felt like history was just repeated itself, but it would not give us any better results this time around. He spoke about how things were rather similar in the Roman Empire. The Roman Empire got me thinking about Jesus. Would he be part of an Occupy Revolution?
Jesus brought his own kingdom, so he didn’t need to transform the one that existed. Rather he invited people to join his movement. But it was a movement that contains many of the values of the Occupy movement; the values of community, sharing, equality, and justice over the “Justice System”.
There were a couple of Jesus stories that came to mind over the night:
I was reminded of the creative resistance of which Jesus spoke in Matthew 5: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.” (to understand how this is creative resistance, it helps to understand the culture a bit better. This could help http://dustinfjames.wordpress.com/category/nonviolent-resistance/ I didn't fully read what was said on this site, but I think he's got the idea)
A conversation with a business man who couldn’t grasp the concept of Occupy made me think of the parable from Luke 12: “A man in a crowd said to Jesus, "Teacher, tell my brother to give me my share of what our father left us when he died."
Jesus answered, "Who gave me the right to settle arguments between you and your brother?"
Then he said to the crowd, "Don't be greedy! Owning a lot of things won't make your life safe."
So Jesus told them this story:
A rich man's farm produced a big crop, and he said to himself, "What can I do? I don't have a place large enough to store everything."
Later, he said, "Now I know what I'll do. I'll tear down my barns and build bigger ones, where I can store all my grain and other goods. Then I'll say to myself, `You have stored up enough good things to last for years to come. Live it up! Eat, drink, and enjoy yourself.' "
But God said to him, "You fool! Tonight you will die. Then who will get what you have stored up?"
"This is what happens to people who store up everything for themselves, but are poor in the sight of God."
And I thought about the teachings of John the Baptist “And he would answer and say to them, "The man who has two tunics is to share with him who has none; and he who has food is to do likewise."” And the other John “If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him?”
I am happy with what Occupy did. Their signs and the art left on the plaza speak their message loudly (though I would say it is being distorted by the media), and they are far from disappearing.

Proverb:

today I made up a proverb. maybe it has been stated before:

A man is as rich as his friends are generous.

what do you think?

Over the weekend I went to Jasper with my parents, both of my sister's and their husbands. It was a last minute family trip. We went on 3 hikes, all of which I had done as a kid with my dad. I am thankful for those father daughter camping trips I went on with my dad where we would hike, camp, and when I got older, backpack. Those are some of the times when I really bonded with my dad. We hike up the mountain Cavity, which was far more of a scramble than a walk in the park. I thought my dad was a little crazy for taking me up there when I was 6, but I still have a scar on my knee from that first trip. The hike up Cavity yesterday was dangerous. It was windy, and rainy, so the rocks were slippery. Looking from above, I watched my dad try to navigate an alternate route which only left him stranded on a rock wall. I hoped he would not fall.
My dad and I did a lot of scrambling, For a couple years we hiked into a campground called waterfall where two waterfalls met. One year we scrambled up beside the one waterfall, and the next year up climbed up the other waterfall. I think it was the first year when my dad and I had climbed different routes up a cliff. From the top I got out the camera and took a picture of him. "Good thing you took that picture" he had told me later "The rock I was holding was loose. That might have been the last picture you ever got of me." I shuddered, not liking my dad to talk like that.
The next year we climbed up the other waterfall. we came across some large rock piles let by glaciers. (I think they have a fancy name, but I don't know what it is now). We walked a couple of Kms to the far side of one, and on that end it was gently sloped. we walked up it with no problem and started heading back along the top. The problem came when we had to get off of the pile. The sides around us were a steep collection of large and small rocks. Everything was loose. My brave dad started down on his feet, but it wasn't long before he lost his balance and tumbled down the mountain. I thought he might die, but he was okay. I sat atop of the rock for a long time, terrified of going down. I thought about the song that said "your love is a mountain, firm beneath my feet", and wished that this mountain was at all firm. Eventually I made my way down.
We took a lot of pictures this weekend. And I thought about the time my dad had said that it was good I had taken the picture because it might have been the last. We found out a week before our trip to Jasper that my dad's cancer has come back, and with a vengeance. He seems healthy, but the tumors are beyond operable, and treatment can only delay the inevitable. He's made a bucket list, and on there was a trip to Jasper. Jasper is an important place for him. Take a Picture of dad on the mountain, this might be the last mountain he climbs. Take a picture of all of us together, who knows if we will all be together again. Take a picture of dad skipping rocks. Who knows if he will be out at a lake again. Take a picture of dad and his daughters because soon they won't have a father. Take a picture, it might be the last chance.

So, now I am feeling pretty hopeless and kinda depressed. I don't feel like doing anything, but I think the more I do, the better it is for me. I am feeling rather busy with school and work amongst many other things, and I can't do everything. Hopefully someday I will learn how to balance it all, but first I feel like I might crash.

UGM - youth drop in

Solemnly they walked through the line. Some smiled, other wouldn’t make eye contact, but most said thanks. I offered them mixed peas and corn, but most rejected them, so there were many left when I went and found someone I knew with whom I could sit. The lighting was dim, and the atmosphere was mellow. Earlier they had told us that there were black lights in the bathroom so people could not find their veins and inject drugs, I could not get the image out of my mind. I found myself in a conversation with a youth I didn’t know, and as was best, she did most of the talking. She was homeless. She had been kicked out of one shelter, not allowed in another, and the rest were forbidden to her for she was only fifteen; only fifteen yet homeless. Something from deep within me burned against this injustice. I felt utterly useless, and angry that there was nothing I could do to help this girl, this child. I wanted to storm up to the gates of those agencies and beg that they let her in. She had been kicked out of the one place because her skirt was too short. Her skirt was too short; had they even thought to offer her anything else to wear. I knew I was only hearing her side of the story, but that didn’t matter. There was no reason which I could comprehend that justified having a fifteen year old sleep on the streets. On the filthy perilous streets of East Hastings. I wished I could have offered her a home, a family, and some love, but I was there only to leave again. She couldn’t escape her situation but in a few days I would get in the 15 passenger van and drive home. I offered her all I could; I listened, and in doing so I received more than I could have given. I received a passion, a passion that ten years later continues to fuel what I do. Black lights in the bathroom. Unwanted peas and corn. Dim lights where they ate their food. Rejected teen. I was only 13.

Do you know Joe?

The other day I was talking with my friend. She knows Joe, and so do I. I know about Joe’s love for animals, the hardships he faced as a child, and in losing his wife, and his distrust of people, because he has been let down. Joe lives in the inner-city, eats at the Mustard Seed Soup Kitchen and lives without a job.
When I was at the Farmers’ Market this week, the musician asked me if I knew Joe. Of course I do, and I was about to tell him so until I realised he might not be talking about the same Joe. The Joe he knows has his own story, his own definition of success and hopefully someone to trust.