Author Archive for Paul Loewen

391 (God’s Dirt)

Published on March 16, 2010 by Paul Loewen. 0 Comments

I was talk­ing to the Youth about this pas­sage the other day, and I vocal­ized how incred­i­ble I thought God’s poetry skills were. He rips into Job with a series of pas­sion­ate poems, almost raps. I’ve always found the last few chap­ters in Job to be some of the most cap­ti­vat­ing writ­ing in the entire Bible. It reminds me that we are small, minute, and just a part of a much big­ger picture.

Job sat back and apol­o­gized for his com­ments after God’s speech. We could, in fact, answer a lot of the ques­tions that God lobbed at Job. Actu­ally, there are peo­ple who could answer them quite well. But I love the fact that the entire rant is “do you know…?” type of ques­tions. Let me explain why I find this so fas­ci­nat­ing. I’m reminded of the joke…

A sci­en­tist dies and meets God. “Oh, it’s you,” he says. “We don’t need you any­more.” “What do you mean?” God asks. “Well, mod­ern sci­ence has done every­thing. We can cre­ate our own ele­ments, genet­i­cally alter our food so it lasts longer than yours did, we can even cre­ate life!” “Really?” laughs God, “I’d like to see that.” “Sure, here, just give me a minute,” the sci­en­tist bends down and begins scoop­ing dirt together into a clump. “Wait a sec­ond,” says God. “Get your own dirt.”

We can sit here and believe we’ve achieved a lot — after all, we can answer God’s ques­tions in Job with a resound­ing YES. But can we dupli­cate any­thing he does? We can answer that with a yes, maybe not quite as resound­ing. But it comes down to the fact that we are still using God’s tools. We can clone, yes, but we’re still using God’s hand­i­work, the mir­a­cle of DNA. It is, after all, God’s dirt.

Tak­ing Heart,

Paul Loewen

329 (Roses and Supper)

Published on March 8, 2010 by Paul Loewen. 0 Comments

It was our first expe­ri­ence lead­ing a 4-day trip with our Youth. They were a group of 15 — 5 boys, 10 girls. It was an inner-city trip, and we were learn­ing about ser­vice. We had planned a time for them to serve each other. The boys were mak­ing an elab­o­rate (okay, Side­kicks) meal for the girls. They were going to give each girl a rose, and then walk them to their seats. Since there were twice as many girls as boys, the girls would come five at a time, in two waves. With roses in hand, they lined up behind the door. The girls didn’t know what was com­ing (the roses or the sup­per). As the boys lined up, they all agreed: “Make sure we’re lined up and they’re lined up, we don’t want to have to pick.”

It wasn’t because they didn’t want to have to choose which of their friends to walk to the table, it was because they were wor­ried that by pick­ing they would inad­ver­tently leave some­one to be picked last. In this moment, I was instantly reminded of the fact that Youth can be incred­i­bly per­cep­tive and mature. These Youth were in grade 8.

When Elihu breaks into the scene in Job, he says, “It is not only the old who are wise, not only the aged who under­stand what is right.” Jesus him­self reit­er­ates this notion when he tells us we all need to become like lit­tle chil­dren. Work­ing with Youth has opened my eyes to the fact that, yes, while young peo­ple can be extremely ener­getic and some­times imma­ture, they can simul­ta­ne­ously be some of the most mature peo­ple I know. This story was just one brief exam­ple. There have been many others.

We have a lot to learn from young peo­ple. Energy. Pas­sion. Humour. Excite­ment. And matu­rity. It might not always seem obvi­ous, but some­times I wish the older gen­er­a­tion acted a lit­tle more like the young.

Tak­ing Heart,

Paul Loewen

1923 (Immortality)

Published on March 1, 2010 by Paul Loewen. 0 Comments

They say that every­thing on the inter­net is for­ever. Well, if that’s the case, one of my life’s goals is done! Which one, you ask? To have some­thing I have done or said immor­tal­ized. If the internet’s data truly lasts for­ever, then there’s a lot that I’ve done that’s been immor­tal­ized. Every email I have sent will go down in Gmail’s servers for all eternity…

It wasn’t always this way. Scrolls are frag­ile. Peo­ple that could write were few. Writ­ten words we con­tained in jars of clay, held onto sacredly. With no record­ing devices, spo­ken words would have to be writ­ten down to keep them in memory.

Job’s words, “Oh, that my words were recorded…” make me laugh. He may never have known that he got his wish. His words have been recorded and read by more peo­ple than any other lit­er­ary work. Quite the immor­tal­iza­tion. I hope to write a lot in my life­time, but I know my words will never go down in his­tory like his did. This led to an inter­est­ing thought…

Did the Bible’s writ­ers have any idea what they were doing?

Did they real­ize that their words would be read by count­less peo­ple? Did they real­ize that peo­ple would stake their lives on the words they eeked out on crumbly scrolls? Did they know that their words would be called canon, holy?

I have no doubt they felt inspired to write what they wrote or say what they said. But so do many peo­ple today, and the canon is already closed. We’re not adding 20th or 21st cen­tury prophets to the Bible. That’s over and done. Pic­ture Job, aching and in pain, wish­ing his words were recorded. Pic­ture Paul, hunched over a desk, quill in hand, writ­ing by can­dle­light. I wish I could go back and whis­per, “Do you know what you’re writ­ing? Do you know how much those words mean?”

Write and speak like your words will mean as much to peo­ple in 3,000 years as Job’s do to us.

Tak­ing Heart,

Paul

717 (One in Seven Billion)

Published on February 24, 2010 by Paul Loewen. 0 Comments

With some 7,000,000,000 peo­ple on earth, it’s easy to get lost in the crowd. With the total weight of the earth’s ter­mites out­weigh­ing humans 10:1, we can hardly say we’re the biggest thing on this planet. If we believe pop­u­lar sci­ence, we’re noth­ing but advanced genet­ics and organ­ics. Yes, we’re

the most advanced life form, but we’re merely a future pro­gres­sion of apes. With this in mind, it’s hard to blame a lot of peo­ple (par­tic­u­larly teenagers, but cer­tainly not lim­ited to them) for hav­ing low self-esteem.

Job asked, “What is man?” to God. What is man that you pay us any atten­tion? Us? Really? There’s 7,000,000,000 of us. Sure, I’m unique in my DNA. But I’m just another per­son. And, when it comes down to it: what is man?

If we read the end of Job, God slams us pretty hard. There’s a lot we don’t know, and God makes it pretty clear who’s in con­trol. There’s a pretty big gap between the Almighty and the Meek. As big as the East from the West in a flat world.

But, wait, there’s hope. I didn’t fin­ish Job’s state­ment. “What is man that you make so much of him?” he asked. In a way, Job’s just answered his own ques­tion. Man is some­thing purely because God makes some­thing of us. Man is some­thing because God cre­ated us. And more than any­thing, man is a whole lot because we are cre­ated in God’s image. We’re a tiny lit­tle bit of God, reflect­ing His bril­liance on this earth.

There’s a lot of hope rooted in being made in God’s image. There’s a lot of self-confidence.

That’s who we are.

Tak­ing Heart,

Paul

Christ-ian

Published on February 15, 2010 by Paul Loewen. 0 Comments

With all the hoopla over the Olympics, I was think­ing about what it means to be a Cana­dian. Many peo­ple define them­selves by their coun­try. They take pride in their atti­tudes, friend­li­ness, and a few stereo­types that come along with your coun­try. Canada is no dif­fer­ent. As a Cana­dian, I have respon­si­bil­i­ties and priv­i­leges. Respon­si­bil­i­ties to pay my taxes, to vote, to be a good cit­i­zen. Priv­i­leges that include health care, human rights, and a great hockey team.

Dur­ing the Olympics, we’re proud to be Cana­dian. We wear the maple leaf with pride.

It got me think­ing about being a Chris­t­ian. After all, “Chris­t­ian” and “Cana­dian” end in the same three let­ters: i-a-n. When it comes to my coun­try, it’s a suf­fix that describes my cit­i­zen­ship. I am a Cana­dian because I am a cit­i­zen of Canada. I took it to the next level: I am a Chris­t­ian because I am a cit­i­zen of Christ.

What does it mean to be a cit­i­zen of Christ? It means to have respon­si­bil­i­ties and receive priv­i­leges. It means that, while I wear red and white dur­ing these 16 days in Feb­ru­ary, I wear Christ’s col­ors all the time. It means that, ulti­mately, my cit­i­zen­ship lies with Christ. And so I don’t think of myself as a Chris­t­ian, I think of myself as a Christ–ian, putting the empha­sis on the last three letters.

I belong to Christ.

I live in the coun­try of Christ.

It strips the name of all the stereo­types. It gives it root and sub­stance. It gives it heart and mean­ing, heart and mean­ing that makes me want to scream as loudly for my ulti­mate cit­i­zen­ship as I will when Canada scores in the gold medal game.

Tak­ing Heart,

Paul Loewen

110 (The Wager)

Published on February 8, 2010 by Paul Loewen. Closed

One of my favorite teach­ers always gave my friend and I spe­cial tasks to do. They often involved leav­ing the class­room, and we usu­ally received them because we were the first to com­plete the assign­ment, project, or task. I remem­ber one ran­dom day car­ry­ing a TV set out to his car. He even gave us his keys, which in grade 6 was a huge thing. We always knew that when we returned we’d each get a Jolly Rancher. It wasn’t like he had us trained, but we knew the reward was coming.

If he would’ve held back the Jolly Rancher one day, we prob­a­bly would have been frus­trated. While we may not have said any­thing to him directly, we would have grum­bled about it when he was out of earshot. Some­one out­side this sim­ple lit­tle sys­tem could watch, observe, and walk in with a wager. “You’ve got great stu­dents,” he’d say. “Have you seen Paul?” The teacher would respond. “He does his work quickly, then helps me out after.” “Well, no kid­ding. You always give him a Jolly Rancher. I don’t know any kid who wouldn’t.”

In that moment, the teacher’s entire sys­tem is shot down. It’s the dif­fer­ence between those who fol­low because of reward, and those who fol­low because they actu­ally like the teacher.

Satan put God in this dilemma at the begin­ning of Job. “He only loves you because you bless him,” Satan sneers. To say ‘yes’ admits to a poorly-designed sys­tem. To say ‘no’ requires proof. God says “No,” then decides to back it up. And thus fol­lows the book of Job. It’s a chal­lenge to the com­mon belief that obe­di­ence equals bless­ing. Many peo­ple believe that today.

At the end, in some of the most beau­ti­ful and harsh poetry ever, God puts Job in his place. “Who are you to judge what I do? I can do what I want to do!” He says, sweep­ing his hand over all of cre­ation. Obe­di­ence equals bless­ing! With one story, God dis­patches the notion that fol­low­ing Him means always being blessed. It could end there.

But it doesn’t.

God restores Job, giv­ing him more than he had before. Some would think this end­ing points to the fact that obe­di­ence = bless­ing, but that’s what God just railed against. No, it’s because God = good.

Tak­ing Heart,

Paul

18 (Job Reference)

Published on February 1, 2010 by Paul Loewen. Closed

When you apply for a job, you need a ref­er­ence. Usu­ally this is some­one in a posi­tion of author­ity, and some­one who knows you quite well. If they agree to be your ref­er­ence, it means they’re will­ing to praise you up and down when they’re called by your poten­tial boss. I’ve had the chance to be a ref­er­ence for some of the Youth at Dou­glas Men­non­ite Church, and it’s a fun expe­ri­ence. You get to tell some­one about how much you like some­one, expound­ing on all their awe­some traits.

Now pic­ture a dif­fer­ent set­ting: instead of two peo­ple con­vers­ing over the phone, it’s the Almighty and the Devil stand­ing in the same room. They’re hav­ing a con­fer­ence. And before you even know it, the Almighty brings up your name. For some rea­son, you get a glimpse into this moment. Me? You whis­per, Why’d you have to bring up lit­tle ol’ me? Fear runs straight to your toes — you’re wor­ried about the biggest and most valu­able ref­er­ence you’ve ever had.

A char­ac­ter ref­er­ence from the Almighty.

Rec­og­nize the sce­nario? Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. Here’s what the Almighty had to say about a char­ac­ter whose name, coin­ci­den­tally, is Job. “Have you con­sid­ered my ser­vant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blame­less and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil.”

If Job had any idea what was going on in the hal­lowed halls of heaven, I’m sure his jaw would have dropped. Lit­tle ol’ me? he might have asked. I mean, I know I try my best…

That’s pos­si­bly the best ref­er­ence I’ve ever heard, and it just so hap­pens to be from the char­ac­ter wit­ness that knows Job like no other.

Put your name here: “Have you con­sid­ered my ser­vant ______?”

What comes next?

Tak­ing Heart,

Paul Loewen

34 litres later

Published on January 25, 2010 by Paul Loewen. Closed

I was walk­ing across the park­ing lot, its slush-covered sur­face mak­ing the cart bounce.

“I’ll grab that one before you put it back,” a man called out to me.

“Sorry,” I responded, “I’ve got one of the tokens.”

“No prob­lem,” he chuck­led, fol­low­ing me to the carts. I pushed it in, then clicked the holder out, the token falling to the ground in the process. “Is it a good cart?”

“Didn’t give me any trou­bles; I didn’t run into any­thing,” I laughed. He laughed out loud, and we said good­bye in the same tone of voice you speak in when you say good­bye to a life­long friend.

Three min­utes later, I had pulled in to fill up our car at Co-op.

“What do you need today?” the guy asked me.

“Fill reg­u­lar,” I responded, and he pro­ceeded to fill it up. He then made casual con­ver­sa­tion about the car, my iPod, and a few other items. By the time I drove away (how long does it take to pump 34 litres?) we, too, sounded like best friends.

Maybe you’ve had expe­ri­ences like this. Maybe you haven’t. Either way, it reminds me that we’re not iso­lated. We’re not lit­tle islands in a big ocean. We’re trav­el­ing down this jour­ney called life with many peo­ple near us. They may be head­ing in a dif­fer­ent direc­tion, but our roads can cross for a sec­ond. More than any­thing, I learned today how a sim­ple con­ver­sa­tion can bring a smile to my face, can make the day a lit­tle brighter.

Tak­ing Heart,

Paul Loewen

Re-Think

Published on January 20, 2010 by Paul Loewen. Closed

Jesus, the Son of God, to God, the Father in Heaven.

I always am grate­ful for you, because you have sus­tained me and car­ried me through so many tri­als and temp­ta­tions, through pain and dif­fi­cul­ties. You have given me power and per­se­ver­ance when it was nec­es­sary, and deliv­ered me from the grasp of death.

Because of this, it would be within my power to tell you what you should do, but instead I’m appeal­ing to you on the basis of love. I, as Jesus – your slain and res­ur­rected Son – appeal to you for my sons and daugh­ters, who have put their faith in me and in my power. For­merly they were sin­ners, now they have been redeemed by grace. I am send­ing them to come before you, so that you, too, can expe­ri­ence the joy I have expe­ri­enced. I am not forc­ing you, or com­mand­ing you, but giv­ing them to you with a smile on my face. While they used to be sep­a­rated from you, it was only for a time so that they could come to you in full­ness – not as a sin­ner but as a redeemed child. I love them with all my heart. So, as your Son and part­ner, wel­come them as you have always wel­comed me.

As they have dis­obeyed and done things wrong, I will step in and pay the penalty for them. Know­ing that you will wel­come them and go fur­ther by lav­ish­ing your love, joy, and bless­ings on them, I thank you.

This let­ter is based on the for­mat and out­line of Phile­mon. When I wrote it, it blew my mind to think about Jesus’ rela­tion­ship to us in this way. It made me seri­ously re-think things. I hope it does for you as well.

Tak­ing Heart,

Paul Loewen

Top 5 Books of 2009

Published on January 13, 2010 by Paul Loewen. Closed

Every year, I write a blog entry on my favorite 5 books I read in that year. I read a lot, and the books usu­ally range from inspi­ra­tional to Chris­t­ian fic­tion to sci-fi and back again. So, with­out any fur­ther ado, here’s my top 5 picks of 2009:

Note­wor­thy men­tions:
– Crazy Talk (Rolf A. Jacob­son)
– Jour­ney (James A. Michener)

5. Mis­ter God, This Is Anna (Fynn) — This is an all-time clas­sic. A bit of a dys­func­tional fam­ily takes in a young girl. She sees the world through won­der­ful (and intu­itive) eyes. It takes tough con­cepts and boils them down into sim­ple thoughts. As much the­ol­ogy as it is story, and incred­i­bly fun at the same time.

4. Plague Maker (Tim Downs) — I bought this because I wanted to read a dif­fer­ent Tim Downs book, but that one was hard­cover and this one was $8. Nev­er­the­less, I’m con­vinced that there’s a new Chris­t­ian fic­tion writer I want to fol­low. It’s a fic­tion story largely cen­tred around fire­works and fleas — and while that may sound bor­ing, it’s not.

3. The Word on the Street (Rob Lacey) — “It’s not the Bible, but it might get you reach­ing for one,” says the back. No truer words have ever been said. Rob takes all 66 books of the Bible and boils them down into a 400-page novel-like book. The Psalms become songs (and raps), Leviti­cus is only one page long, and the entire thing helps you keep the story of the Bible, the char­ac­ters, and the mes­sage much clearer in your head. Engag­ing, humor­ous, and easy to read, I rec­om­mend this for any­one who has never read the Bible or has read it too much (it says that on the back too).

2. The Oath (Frank Peretti) — This man needs to write more fic­tion. Grip­ping, intense, and mean­ing­ful, The Oath is about a small town that’s haunted by a dragon. With an intruder search­ing for their secret, the town is com­ing under attack. It’ll keep you awake at night.

1. The Lan­guage of God (Fran­cis S. Collins) — The head of the Human Genome Project, argu­ing for God? Collins gives us his rea­sons for why being a sci­en­tist and a Chris­t­ian are not only com­pat­i­ble, but also mean­ing­ful. Cre­ation, evo­lu­tion — noth­ing is left untouched (includ­ing your view on God).

0. Heaven (Randy Alcorn) — It’s a bit too long of a book, but he sys­tem­at­i­cally builds a case for the New Earth as our eter­nal liv­ing place — an Earth not unlike ours in all the good stuff, and unlike ours in that all the bad is gone. Will we have fun? Will we know peo­ple? Will we have mem­o­ries? Any­thing good will con­tinue, he says. Instead of pic­tur­ing white fluffy clouds, it’ll make you want heaven again.

Yes, I know that was 6 books. But some­times I bend the 5 book rule.

Tak­ing Heart,

Paul Loewen