REMIX; or, Stories of Love in Action

Originally Published: July 7, 2019

If you’ve read the title of today’s installment, you can probably guess how excited I am to have the opportunity once again to talk about one of my favourite things in the world. That’s right, it’s conference time–the Toronto REMIX conference to be specific!

For those who haven’t perused my other post about it, or if you just need the reminder, REMIX is an annual youth conference organized by Youth Unlimited Toronto that runs through the last few days of June–this year, June 26-30. Just like in previous years, the days were filled with training times, service experiences, worship opportunities (both musical and otherwise). I could talk forever about the great things that happened this year–from the eye-opening walk among Toronto’s street-involved population with our guide, Eejay to the simple work we did with Margaret at the Fort York Food Bank that opened doors to conversation and inspiration, the time was filled with moments large and small that really could all merit their own post.

REMIX 2019

But today, we’re not gonna do that. Today we’re gonna do something different.

REMIX itself was different this year, because for the first time I wasn’t just an attendee or even a volunteer; this year, I got to co-lead a group with another summer staff director. This means that I had seven youth and young adults all looking to me for guidance, support, and encouragement through their REMIX experiences.

As such, rather than taking a third post to ramble about all of my REMIX stories, I’ve asked two of them to share theirs.

______

Testimonies have been lightly edited for grammar and clarity.

Brianna Morgan

“Last Saturday as one of the REMIX training activities, I was getting ready with my youth to go out and spread the word of God with anyone on the street who may need it. 

As we approached a park that I was familiar with, I felt that not many people would be willing to hear my message (especially with-it being Saturday, a day when people mainly attend the park for parties and family barbecues), but I was willing to give it a try knowing that God and my church members would be with me. 

I saw two women sitting down in front of the mini splash pad with their two toddlers (adorable!), and I decided to approach them and start a conversation. I started by offering them water and then a flyer for our church children summer camp, since it seemed like something they may genuinely be interested in. They were very polite and willing to listen to us talk when we asked for a bit of their time. 

I started out by explaining that we’re from a Christian program called REMIX and what it was about, just to get the conversation started on religion. Then one of the ladies introduced the other as her sister, a Catholic, and introduced herself as an atheist. Since they were willing to give up some time to talk to us, I decided to go through the bracelet they gave us at REMIX (which was used to help us explain our relationship with God and his love). This was pretty awkward at first, because I didn’t have the exact words I would have liked to have to explain the first three symbols, but when it got to the ‘I’ symbol on the bracelet (representing sharing how God has changed your life), I was able to share my testimony about how I came to find God’s love. 

I had never shared my testimony before, so sharing it with complete strangers was a big leap for me, but I knew it was what I had to do to connect with them and start a relationship. I started by saying, ‘I know I’m only 16 but a lot has happened to me in that amount of time,’ and right away the first sister jumped in to say, ‘That’s ok–I’d been through a whole lot of stuff by the time I was 16 so I understand.’ This was the atheist sister, who, surprisingly, was a lot more open to talk about religion than her Catholic sister. 

I went on to explain a bit about my childhood–like how my parents ended up splitting when I was younger, leaving me without a relationship with my dad–and later on other personal issues in my life. In return, she told me how she totally understands and how she went through the same things when her own dad left; she explained how that had left her questioning why he left, or if he even loved her, or if something was wrong with her. But she said now that’s she’s older she understands why he removed himself from her life: that was because he wanted to do the best thing for her, not being around to mess up and hurt her. 

Near the end of our conversation she said how she’s thinks it’s amazing that I had my religion and the love of God to hold on to and keep me stable and going through that hard time.  By comparison, when she was my age going through the same thing, she dealt with it by partying, getting into trouble, and doing a lot of things she now wishes she hadn’t done. So really, she just spent the last bit of time with us encouraging me and telling me how she thinks it’s so great that I have my religion and that what I was doing was great. 

It’s funny that going out to show love to others ended up with me receiving love myself. I’m really happy that I got to talk to them and I am happy that although she was an atheist she still appreciated my religion and the way God was leading me; it felt like she was proud which really warmed my heart, and I just thank God for leading me to them. I hope I can see them again through my church’s summer camp this month if they decide to bring their kids.” 

Sarah Clements

“Coming to REMIX for the second time and having grown in my faith immensely throughout the intervening year, I came with a newfound confidence in evangelism on the sharing day. However, after having some disappointing encounters at Thompson park (our first destination), some of this confidence was at risk of fading. So, before entering Albert Campbell Square I took time to ask the Holy Spirit where He was leading me. The groups had all dispersed in one direction, but looking up in the opposite direction, there was a man who seemed to be street-involved that I was feeling called towards.

As I approached him and asked if he wanted water, I got to talking with him about the hot weather and his plans for Canada Day. After a bit, he asked me to sit with him, and at that point I was able to share the gospel. When it came to my testimony, something seemed to connect with him and he instantly asked how he could contact the church. I gave him our youth leader’s email and he left pretty soon after. The whole situation was surreal, and it really felt like God was there, working in his heart somehow.

At REMIX, I learned that loving people is the most important part of ministry. It’s the relationships you make with others to show how loved they are that allows them to see God’s love in each one of us! I also, being able to see and listen about the broken system in place for people in the streets, want to make more of a difference in changing the system for the next generation. Jesus came to the earth to spread the word about His kingdom through love! How much more I can be doing to spread God’s love?”

_____

And we’re back. 

As I hope you’ve seen from Brianna and Sarah’s stories, this REMIX really was filled with new and challenging experiences but underpinned in all things by God’s palpable spirit of love.

Personally, God really showed me this year how important it is to be patient and trust in him in all aspects of my life, particularly my plans for the future. Overall though, the conference allowed me to gain a deeper relationship with God but also gain a deeper relationship with the youth and young adults that I brought with me. As we prepare to run the day camp that Brianna so eloquently gestured towards, I definitely know this year’s camp will be a time I won’t soon forget. This goes out to the people who attended this conference with me; I love each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart. I also want to know that you’re a child of God and he loves you unconditionally and abundantly. 

Thanks to Brianna and Sarah for being willing to share their stories, as well as Alain Virgin, Youth Unlimited, and the team that put REMIX together again this year. You don’t know how much I appreciate all of you and the love you show in what you do.

Before you go, I’d love to share with you this highlight video, made by Spencer Reagan, which recaps the week.

And last but not least, keep an eye out for our next installment, coming in two weeks. We’re trying something new that I’m very excited about. Hope to see you there.

Alphabet Soup; or, Living with a Learning Disability

Originally Published: June 23, 2019

Do you remember when you first learned the alphabet? Around two or three is probably when you started to grasp the meaning of those strange sigils. Not long after, they started stringing together into words just like these, and a world of communication began to slowly trickle into your life. Before you know it, you’re neck deep into Robert Munsch, Magic Treehouse, and Harry Potter.

Unless, of course, you’re like me, and couldn’t wrap your head around the alphabet until grade 4, my first clue that I was different.

A few years ago, I learned something that put experiences like this one in a new light: I have a learning disability. Some of you may not know this–it’s not something I particularly publicize (he says, writing a blog about it). But really, outside an academic setting, it’s not all that noticeable, especially when I have supports like my editor, Stephan, and my girlfriend, Kamal, who are very gifted in the places I am weak and help fill in the gaps.

Still, this was a big problem for me personally growing up–not because I knew I had a learning disability (I didn’t for a while), but because I knew I was different.

It seemed at times that everyone, from kids to adults, family to strangers, and anyone in between, was out to remind me that I was different. In their eyes, I was a dumb kid with too much energy who couldn’t listen and didn’t really pay attention if he did. And yet, where other dumb kids either shaped up or decided they couldn’t care less about school, no matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t wrap my head around the stuff I was supposed to be learning.

Imagine, for example, being in the English as a Second Language class after you move to Canada in the first grade; it’s tough being separated from your other classmates, but at least you know that eventually, just like everyone else in that class, you’ll learn enough to be fit for the normal class. Now imagine being stuck in that class throughout high school as well.

The struggle didn’t stop at home (as if it ever does), because my other family members–particularly my sisters–are straight-A students. My parents tried their best to get the support that I needed, but without an understanding of what my difference really was, they quickly reached the ends of their ropes. Not only did I feel stupid, I also felt like a burden as they dragged me from one appointment to another. In contrast to my sisters, just like my classmates, my difference was a lack. I was less than they were–less intelligent, less diligent, and less valuable.

Putting a name to my difference midway through elementary school helped me understand it, but it still left the sense of less than. It is after all called a disability, separated from ‘ability’ by those three ordinary letters.

It was (oh so shockingly) Jesus who began to help me unpack the shame I’d been carrying. In John 9, we see Jesus interact with another man who has a disability.

As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man who had been blind from birth. “Rabbi,” his disciples asked him, “why was this man born blind? Was it because of his own sins or his parents’ sins?”

“It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,” Jesus answered. “This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.

If we look at this situation as the disciples did, and as I might have, God seems downright malicious: at best, this man is punished, seemingly excessively, for a sin in his past; at worst, God created this man lacking a fundamental part of his human experience, cursing him to a painful existence just so that God could come along one day and heal him as part of some first-century hearts-and-minds campaign.

Yet, more consistent with the person of Jesus is the idea that this “disability” which the world saw as a lack was really a sensitivity to grace. This man was able to experience the redemptive power of Christ in a way few in history ever would. Who can say that Jesus literally let them see for the first time?

God’s story is full of people who the world saw as broken, but God saw as beautiful. Moses had a speech impediment. Elijah was suicidally depressed, possibly even clinically. David was too small to even lift his armour.  I won’t even go into whatever Danny Devito-esque features got Paul laughed out of Corinth. Rather than being impeded by these ‘disabilities,’ God used them all to demonstrate his revolutionary grace. The story of David and Goliath wouldn’t be nearly as impressive if Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson replaced David “The Smooth Pebble” Jesseson, now would it?

Even though I don’t always know why I have this disability, this has provided me with hope. I personally believe that my hardest times often lead to the greatest moments in my life, because it is in those times that I got to really see God’s power made perfect in my weakness.

So, all that’s left for me–for any and all of us who find ourselves weak, lacking, or broken by the world’s standards–is to move, learn, breathe, see, and live in a courage not our own. “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Just over a week ago, I graduated from George Brown College. With honours. Does this still mean a lot to me? Yeah. Realistically, it’s probably one of my biggest accomplishments so far. Does it still hurt that my family doesn’t know how much it means to me to get honours, as my other three siblings could do it with their hands tied behind their back? Sometimes.

Seeing my disability through God’s eyes doesn’t take away from the accomplishment–if anything it amplifies it. I know that putting God above my school and my marks was a key part of my success these past few years. All the years of telling myself I couldn’t do it, whatever it was, seemed so quiet compared to the still, small voice that proves them wrong.

Seeing my disability through God’s eyes isn’t the same thing as saying ability, difference, and success don’t matter. We’re all going to succeed, and we’re all going to fail. We’re all doing to be different, and at some point in our lives, we’re all going to be ‘disabled’ in one way or another.

Seeing my disability through God’s eyes is saying that none of these are the endgame.

Jesus is the endgame, and he’s playing on the field with us.

New Places, Old Faces – Part 2; or, Living a Ministry of Peace

Originally Published: June 8, 2019

My family situation has been difficult lately.

The other day, my mom had borrowed my phone for a few minutes to talk to my cousin. In the middle of the call, my girlfriend, Kamal, called me–a photo of the two of us, faces pressed together, flashed onto the screen in my mom’s hand. My mom didn’t I know I had a girlfriend.

Whether the conclusion came to her right of way or not, she (outwardly) gave me the benefit of the doubt and asked who this girl was. A knee-jerk reaction–I told her she was just a friend. Mom persisted, and I, more hesitantly, maintained the lie for a few moments longer. Then I confessed. She’s my girlfriend. “What is she” –what nationality–she asked. Guyanese. Have you told her that you love her? Yes.

Mom was furious. She was, is, and has been determined that I marry a Tamil girl, and in her mind, nothing can change that. The conversation ended there, but the trouble didn’t. My mom didn’t say anything more to me on the subject, but the news has spread through the family. Soon after, my sister confronted me about my relationship. Under the impetus of my mother, she demanded that I break up with Kamal, setting an ultimatum that I either end the relationship or suffer the nondescript but nonetheless dismaying consequences.

That was over a month ago, and the air is still tense.

1 Corinthians 13 tells us a lot about the character of love. Verse 13 says that “Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.” This is the passage I sent to Kamal to help calm her anxiety when I told her about the incident with my mom.

Kamal & I (Serpent River 2019)

Sometimes, it feels like this kind of love asks for more than I have to give.

Don’t get me wrong–I love Kamal so much. Telling my mom that she’s “just a friend” made me feel as though a rooster was about to crow. But the star-crossed lovers schtick loses some of its romance when you remember that both Juliet and her Romeo died at the end of that play.

Love for one another that shows the world that we’re disciples is a pretty hard concept to tackle when you live in a world that isn’t a fan of the “love” or “disciples” parts.

In the last post, I focused a lot on self-care, and how the peace that Jesus brings can free us from our own destructive tendencies by showing us how to properly care for ourselves. The thing is, it’s not just us that overwhelm us. Not the most revolutionary idea, I know, but sometimes it needs to be said that life gets to be way too much. Honestly, the past few weeks I’ve not been feeling myself and have been dreading life in general.

These things have to be said though in order to really understand what God’s peace means. I reference Peter and his awkward fireside chats from Matthew 26 for a good reason. Life had gotten way too much for him as well. Jesus–his best friend, spiritual leader, and Messiah (even though poor Pete didn’t quite grasp the concept yet) –had been arrested, and the next few days didn’t look good for him. Peter had pretty much given up his whole life for Jesus, only to defend him hours earlier in Gethsemane and be rebuked by Jesus for his violent zeal. As he stood at the fire outside the high priest’s courtyard, those words would have seemed like the last words his friend and king would ever say to him.

So of course, he said he didn’t know Jesus. Would you have done anything different?

We like to look at scenes like this and picture ourselves valiant defenders of the faith, championing Jesus and refusing to back down like eight-year-olds with their chests puffed out in Sunday School. But really, what I’ve seen–and what I’ve done–is quite the opposite. My love has given up in the face of fear. My love has lost its faith and its hope. My love has reached the limits of its endurance and lain down on the grass beside the track, gasping for breath.

But God’s love isn’t like my love. That’s the good news. That’s the Gospel.

God’s love does not give up, lose faith, lose hope, or reach its limit. God’s love comes back for Peter–back from the grave even–to show that redemption is a reality. God’s love changes heart and opens eyes. God’s love forgives failed lovers like me. And God’s love works through me and you to do “infinitely more than we might ask or think.”

Because of this, we come back around to peace. You may remember that that’s why 1 Corinthians 13 came up in the first place–to bring some peace to an anxious girlfriend. The peace that surpasses all understanding comes from a love that surpasses all of our limits. In the times of discomfort, confusion, and failure, this love and this peace go hand in hand.

I don’t feel comfortable living at home. It’s unfortunate but it’s true. The lies that have webbed me in for so long still find strength in the small world of our apartment.

Yet, I can remember the peace that reframes discomfort, and I can see the love that redeems it. Thank you, Kamal, for showing me that love. Thank you for the example you set. Thank you for letting God love through you.

Lows are part of life, Christian or otherwise. Most of us seem like we’re doing fine, but everyone has their own battle internally. Don’t underestimate the hand of love you can be to those around you, but most importantly, remember who that love belongs to, and that he extends it to you as well.

Lean into love. Fall into peace. He won’t let you down.

New Places, Old Faces – Part 1; or, Living a Ministry of Peace

Originally Published: May 25, 2019

CW: Discussions of violence, suicide

What would you do if you encountered the person who had mugged you? How would you feel? What would you do if you were on the same bus as that person? What thoughts would rush through your head? Would you get off the bus? Would you worry that he would notice?

I was sitting on the bus on the way to my school placement on Tuesday, April 16. I was reading the Bible on my phone–I’ve been trying to do that more. As the bus sped away from the stop at which we had just paused, I felt someone pass by me to sit in the seat behind me. I turned my head and caught a glimpse of a familiar face. I suddenly knew that this was the person that had held me knife-point and robbed me three or four years previously. I sat in stunned silence, feeling nothing.

Nothing–except for the tugging idea that I should go and say thanks for changing my life.

At this point, I wouldn’t fault you for thinking, “Is this guy stupid? Does he want to get robbed again?”

The thing is, my life has come so far since the first time I met this guy, that dark night so long ago. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t see mugging as a particularly enjoyable experience, but I don’t regret that it happened to me. Like Joseph, who forgave his brothers for being led by their jealousy to sell him into slavery, I have seen that he “intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives” (Genesis 50:19-20).

Regardless, my good sense won out over my, practically, pretty dangerous sentiment. So, sitting on that bus, I texted my girlfriend. It went something like this:

Me: Hey, I think the guy who mugged me is on my bus.

Her: WAIT WHAT

Her: Are you sure?

Her: Are you okay?

Me: I’m pretty good.

Me: I’m pretty sure it’s him.

Her: Can you sit far from him?

Me: I’m sitting, like, next to him.

Her: Okay move!

Me: Like arm’s length

Her: No!

Me: It’s okay

Honestly, she was more freaked out than I was.

What made it even more interesting was that, the morning of the encounter, I had been reading Romans 8. Verse 31 tells us, “What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?”

God provided me calmness instead of fear, relaxation instead of worry, peace in the moment of trouble. Surprisingly, TTC was running late like usual so I thought I was going to be late and break my record for not being late to placement and this was more of a worry than what happened to me in the morning.

It may seem that I’m beating this idea of peace in trouble to death, but that’s just because I really want to stress how powerfully Christ has changed my heart. In the years since that mugging first showed me the meaning of peace, the one who is peace incarnate has taken me so far and worked so many wonders in my life and through my life.

And yet, there are still days when this peace seems farther than others.

Over the past few months, I’ve seen new situations cause me to fall into old habits; burnout has become very real to me again. There have been times where I have come very close to breaking.

I’ve had too much on my plate–between school, work, placement, church commitments, and all the other responsibilities that come with adult life in the 21st century, I’ve pushed my body to go beyond what it’s capable of. When I told my supervisor about this, he confessed that I hadn’t looked well for the last two weeks and other staff had been commenting on my tiredness. A lot of the time, I honestly feel like I can’t do anything–that my body just can’t move anymore. The work I push out is a hollow, clanging gong–I’m doing everything that’s required of me, but without the love that needs to accompany it. Trying to hold everything together, I’ve made careless mistakes and forgot about things that are important; at placement, I’ve suddenly felt simple things becoming impossible. Still, I’ve kept pushing. On top of this, I realized I have been eating poorly and exercising little, which certainly affected the situation. My body has felt so different and my head hasn’t been in it. I’ve kept pushing. It didn’t feel normal. I’ve kept pushing. My hands were shaking. I keep pushing.

I push my body to 150% when it can’t even handle 110%. I’ve felt like I was going to break down. I’ve felt like I couldn’t keep the tears at bay.

This just how it looked back when I used to think of suicide.

I’ve become very aware of how much I need to find a better life balance–one that includes self-care at work and at rest. I need to take step back and take care of my mental health.

Ministry is my life; or, rather, Jesus is my life, and ministry is my worship. But ministry can’t happen on my own power, especially when it has fallen so low.

I am reminded of the words of Jesus in Matthew 22. “Jesus replied, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments” (Matt. 22:37-40).

If we are to follow Jesus’ example, we must live our lives in worship, trusting in God first and foremost, and “in humility value[ing] others above [our]selves” (Philippians 2:3). We have a powerful promise that the God who cares and provides for even the lowliest sparrow values us so much more, so we don’t need to live our lives consumed by concern for our own wellbeing. Yet, as I’ve said before, self-care is important. When I fall into a place of burnout–when I’m running on empty and pushing too hard–I’m not loving the Lord with all my heart, soul, and mind; I’m using all three of these faculties on myself and my work and realizing just how small they really are.

I know I’m not alone in this. I also know that it’s not easy to reach out. We don’t want to admit we need help, because we think that strength means relying on ourselves. Self-care is about realizing our limits–the limits of our heart, soul, mind, and body–respecting these limits by faithfully taking care of that which God has entrusted us and understanding that it is him who takes our ordinary and makes it extraordinary.

But self-care is not the end of the story–it helps us see the peace that is possible; it doesn’t create it. There is a peace which surpasses all understanding, and I’ve learned that it doesn’t come from me.

This however, is something that I need to keep reminding myself.

Today’s reflection is part of a two-part series. Stay tuned for part two, coming June 8.

Urbana 2018; or, How to Change the World

Originally Published: January 19, 2019

Have you ever seen a black swan? No, I’m not talking about that Natalie Portman movie from 2010—I’m talking the bird, with, you know, feathers and stuff. No? Well neither had most of Europe until the 1800s.

Found almost exclusively in certain parts of Australia until they were introduced by humans into different settings, they are known as one of history’s most elusive creatures (except, I suppose, to their local Australians).

So why am I talking about birds all of a sudden? Don’t worry, this isn’t suddenly becoming some sort of ornithology blog—we don’t have the rights to Confessions from Cockatoos.

The thing with black swans is that, before Europeans were first introduced to these black-feathered friends, “black swan” was a metaphor for something that was so rare that it probably didn’t exist in the first place. That all changed when they realized that, well, they did exist. Now, if you were to call something a “black swan,” the meaning of the metaphor has completely changed—you’re talking about something that completely changed how we see the world.

I met a black swan a few weeks ago when I had the incredible opportunity to attend a student mission conference called Urbana in St. Louis, Missouri from December 27-31, 2018. A great way to end the year, eh?

If you’ve been following my blog at all, you probably understand just how much of a conference junkie I am. That being said, I promise you this won’t be like the serpent river blog where I wrote everything, I did each day and the blog that went on and on and wouldn’t stop. No, this time we’re going on a swan hunt, and we’re gonna catch a big one.

First though, I think I should give you a little bit of background on just what Urbana is.

As I already mentioned, Urbana is a student mission conference, and it takes place every three years. Likewise, on its website, it is described as “an eye-opening global missions conference, a sacred space for college and graduate students, faculty, and church leaders to hear God’s call,” that is “dedicated to calling whole-life, whole-world disciples.”

For the sake of this post, I want to focus on three of these descriptors: eye-opening, whole-life, and whole-world. Because, as you might have guessed, the black swan I met on this trip was Jesus. How could it not have been? Like the black swan, so much of what God taught me at Urbana was about how Jesus completely changes the way I look at different aspects of my life and can for you as well.

But let’s not get too ahead of myself. Let’s start at the beginning.

I had been given this opportunity by my mentors at St. Andrews Presbyterian and Youth Unlimited primarily because this year Urbana had a business track, and they felt that it would be the perfect opportunity for me; as you may know if you’ve read some of my other posts like “Money Freak,” I have a huge heart for business, but really want to find a way to combine, or at least reconcile, business and ministry.

As such, one of the first morning sessions were incredibly convicting for me. As opposed to what you might expect going into a youth conference—perhaps an inspirational, Steven Furtick-style reminder of God’s power and my salvation—this talk was about how we all contribute to things in the world that Christians say we’re against, primarily when it comes to “invisible” injustices such as sweat shop labour and child labour. Learning how much of our clothing, electronics, and other consumer items is made under dubious or downright bad circumstances was very eye-opening not only to me but everyone else I talked to at the conference. I don’t mean to suggest that salvation is earned by buying from ethical sources, but this talk did make me think about just what it means to be living what I consider the Christian life and still contributing to these things.

I don’t have a solution yet as to how to tackle problems like this, especially since these problems are often incredibly widespread and hard to avoid. Looking at systemic issues in the way our world works can often seem like facing down an ocean; we fear that we will have no power against the waves and will end up drowned by it all.

This however is where Jesus, the black swan, swoops into the equation. Urbana taught me that God doesn’t belittle our fear—He puts it in perspective.

In fact, He puts everything into perspective, or rather, He puts everything into the proper perspective. You learn to fear the waves less when you can feel the stone beneath your feet.

We often fall into situations that are new or uncomfortable—whether they be external like the massive injustices of our world, or internal like figuring out who we are, what we’re meant to be doing, dealing with personal weaknesses, or struggling with expectations we and others put on ourselves—and end up trying to white-knuckle our way through it. We hold desperately onto the things that make us feel comfortable, even when they stop being things that can help us.

In these situations, what we really need to do is fall into who God is, and what He has told us about His plan. God knows that our lives will be filled with fear and anxiety, because He knows the world is broken. He sent Jesus to fix it, and that’s something we can rely on. When you’ve got a hole in your boat, holding onto the boat will only drag you down faster. Faith is getting out and swimming for the lighthouse.

In all the winds and the waves, we are called to faithfulness; it is God who will handle fruitfulness. It may not seem as though I can do anything sometimes—maybe I don’t feel qualified, or the task is too big for me to even make a dent—but at the end of the day, to do the things that make a difference, it is Christ who qualifies us, and Christ who is bigger than any obstacle.

Ever since I became a Christian, there has been one obstacle that has always seemed too big for me to take on, but throughout Urbana, Jesus kept placing it on my heart. If I want to surrender my life to Him, I’ve got to tell my parent I’m a follower of Christ, because right now I’m living a life full of lies. I’m not living my full life to the Lord because some people I know don’t know I follow Jesus. How can I live a life dedicated to the Lord if some people don’t know who I am?

It’s scary, and if you’re reading this, I’d like to ask a favour. As I prepare in the upcoming months to tell my parents that I’m a follower of Christ, I would like you to ask God to provide me with wisdom, courage, strength, power, the right words to tell them, and the right time and place to tell them.

More than anything though, I am happy to be learning about just how much Jesus changes everything. I don’t claim to have all the answers, and I don’t claim to be perfect, but I know that Jesus does, and Jesus is.  Because I have seen Him, the whole world looks different, and if the whole world looks different, maybe it’s nothing to be scared of after all.

Desert Island Family; or, the merits of Christian Friendship

Originally Published: November 27, 2018

I would like to dedicate this blog post to all my friends, both those who know Christ and those who don’t. Thank you all for being there for the happiest moments, darkest moments and the toughest moments of my life. Without God and you all I honestly don’t know how I would have got through all of this. This one’s for you guys.

Have you ever been at a party, in a class, or at some other awkward group event where, staring out at a sea of bored faces, the organizer decides that it’s time for icebreakers? If you have, you might be familiar with the ‘desert island’ activity–you know, that one where the person asks in a too-chipper voice, “if you were stranded on a desert island and could only bring one [insert category of object here], what would it be?”

Sometimes it’s about books, sometimes sandwiches (you get a lot of ‘boat-sandwiches’ that way), but whatever category your strained organizer chooses, you can typically sort the answers into two categories.

On the one hand, you’ve got the people who want to make the best of their time in solitude–the type who’ll pick a nice long book that they can read over and over, or their favourite sandwich which they can eat in peace (before presumably beginning some awe-inspiring trek to reclaim what they’ve lost by making bread out of coconuts).

On the other hand, you’ve got the people who will do everything to get back to civilization–these are the ones who pick “How to Build a Raft for Dummies” or the aforementioned boat-sandwich.

Actually, scratch “two categories,” because we all know there’s a third person–the most devious of all: the one who, no matter the category of object, somehow manage to bring their friend along to suffer with them.

I don’t think these are necessarily hard and fast categories, nor are they necessarily mutually exclusive (I got them from a silly game after all). I think that each of us has a little bit of each of these people in us; we all want to be alone sometimes, we all run to community sometimes, and we all lean on our friends (even when sometimes it’s not in their best interests). The bottom line is that managing friendships is important.

After I began my journey with Christ, and devoted my life to serving him, I realized my circle of friends began to get smaller, rather than larger. One of the biggest draws of Christianity for a lot   of people is how following Jesus binds us into a family with God and with all other believers–in this, Jesus is the boat off of that desert island, back to a warm, welcoming, and hopefully more inclusive community than before.

So, at first glance, you might have seen the population of my little island dropping and wondered, “what is this dude talking about?” Well, I wasn’t becoming a monk, that’s for sure. Rather, I started being more selective of the people I really called my friends–started looking beyond a virtual subscriber count for my validation.

I spent less time in relationships that were toxic and began to pour into relationships with those in my new family. Becoming friends with followers of Christ helped me grow and learn as (hopefully and humbly) I helped them grow and learn as well. They brought me up when I was down. They wanted to see me grow and encouraged me every step of the way. They had the same mentality as I did–not always the same ambitions, opinions, or convictions, but at least the same core.

Don’t get me wrong; I still have friends who don’t follow Christ, and I respect them as much as I do with my friends that are Christian. I don’t in any way want this to sound like some sort of call to some sort of insular, Christians-only club. Rather than prescribing my friendships, following Jesus has shown me the beauty that can be found in healthy friendships, and just what I can bring to them myself.

That being said, this post is primarily about my Christian friends–my new brothers and sisters. It’s for the ones who I can always turn to for Godly advice, who point me back to God when I’m lost, and who speak His words to me when I can’t hear them well enough myself. It’s for the ones who speak the truth, and who speak it in action, who know they aren’t perfect and walk humble in their humanity and confident in their saviour. It’s for the ones who walk beside me through the same valleys and hills, in whose lives I’ve seen God work wonders, an in whose eyes I can see God.

Even just hanging out with some of these friends, I can see God in them, and that brings me so much joy. It also gives me quite the example to live up to.

Have you ever heard of a saying something along the lines of “You Become Who You Hang Out With” (not to be confused with “You Are What You Eat?” Please don’t eat your friends)? Fun fact: it’s biblical. This is why I surround myself with people that uplift me and am a bit of a junkie for events like conferences and missions’ trips that put me in touch with other like-minded Christians.  

Since meeting Christ, the friend He has led me to have become, you can say, my second family. They mean more than just a friend. Sometimes I wonder how they can handle someone like me.

To me a friend is someone who is loyal, honest, trustworthy, caring and understanding. A friend is there for your lowest and highest point in life. They are someone who’s right beside you when you need them the most but your also there for them when they need you. There’s a reason that when Jesus came, He said,

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you. This is my command: Love each other. (x)

As in all good things, we have Jesus as an example of what it means to be a friend: a radical, self-sacrificing love, wholly dependent on God.

I suppose this brings us back to our island illustration from the beginning, specifically our third type of person. In a good friendship, the effort should come from both sides. A one-sided friendship–one that doesn’t care for the needs of the other person, and/or only consists of one person getting something from the other–is a recipe for disaster. Our love should be sacrificial, intentional, and guided by the love of Christ, not self-seeking, proud, or envious.

I’m grateful to call my friends a friend. I am grateful that Christ, my truest friend, did not leave me on my desert island. My friends are my family, and like family, they’re not perfect, but the God who we follow is, and it is in Him that all trials shall be overcome. It’s not what stands in front of you, it’s who stands beside you.

Building a Relationship with God; or, How to Turn on the Lights

Originally Published: October 29, 2018                                                          

Picture this: you’ve just been told the greatest news you’ve ever heard. Maybe you got that job you’ve been desperate for, or maybe that guy/girl you like finally said yes to a date. Heck, maybe you heard Subway was having a two for one sale on footlongs (it could happen!). In that moment of excitement (or maybe after the first footlong has disappeared into your stomach) who would be the first person you’d call?

Most of us would probably say our best friend, or our mom, or our significant other (hopefully not in the second case above 😬). Today though, as you may have guessed by the title, I’d like to suggest a different option.

How about God?

One of the things that makes Christianity so fundamentally different from other religions is that, at the real heart of it, it’s all about relationship. God wants so much to be with you that He sent His own son, Jesus, to pay for your mistakes, so that you could be together. However, if we’re not careful, we Christians–both young and old–can risk leaving that relationship on the backburner, instead opting for the Good Christian™ aesthetic of going to church and retweeting inspirational quotes from the Psalms.

I personally believe that a relationship with the Lord means making Him your best friend, your dad, your everything.

Now before you go kicking Pops to the curb and saying sayonara to your schoolyard buds, let me explain a little bit.

Can you guess the only person who knows us better than we know ourselves? No, it’s not your mom, and it’s not Doctor Phil–it’s Jesus. Luke 12:7 tells us that “even the hairs of your head are all numbered” (remember that when you get your next fresh cut). You mean so, so much to Him, and He made you in such a way that you get better just by being near Him–I know that listening to God has taught me things about myself that I would never have known otherwise.

We become our best selves when we put God in the centre of everything. That doesn’t mean merely making Him a priority, because that means that He’s comparable to say, getting your homework done on time. Rather, God should be the light at the centre of our lives that makes everything around us visible; we should see the world in relation to who God is.

So, we need to get closer to God–closer to that light–so that our world is better illuminated. Building this relationship is never ending; unlike a relationship with a spouse or a friend, there’s no limit to what you can learn about God, or the ways in which He can surprise and excite your life.

I suppose the question then is: how do I build this relationship?

Of course, the first places we all need to turn is to the Bible, and to prayer. The first is God’s love letter to us, a story of how hard He was willing to fight and how much He was willing to sacrifice so that we wouldn’t have to be alone. The second is our direct hotline to the head honcho himself–it’s the line you’d call if, going back to our first example, you had some really great news to share.

Prayer can be hard sometimes, especially because it often seems one sided. It feels awkward–we’re not sure what to say. Maybe we’ve been raised in a very formal church, and we feel like we need to use special words to pray. Maybe we’ve never been to church before and wonder if our language will somehow turn God off.

One thing that helps me is to talk to God like you’re talking to your own friend. Try to drop the pretense of what you think He wants to hear, and just say what you’re feeling. He won’t be offended, I promise.

I still have trouble with this on occasion. I pray, but I don’t feel as deep a connection as I’d like, or I feel that I’m somehow missing something. I’m working to fix this by reading the Bible every day, one of my New Year’s resolutions for 2018 (it lasted longer than most resolutions to go to the gym, so that’s something!)

It may difficult for some of us (scratch that, all of us) to build a relationship with Jesus sometimes, because we have many barriers in our lives that preventing them from letting Jesus in. There are pains that have been caused in all of us where we have been lied to about God–times where we thought He wasn’t there, or where it seemed like the hurt was all His fault, or where we’ve cried and cried and not heard any response. I know I’ve had points in my life where I felt like this, but eventually God used people I trust to expose the lies for what they were.

Be gentle with yourself. It takes steps to achieve this goal, and it takes time to build a relationship. It’s a process. The most important thing to remember is that God loves us no matter what state we’re in. He came into our mess to get us out, so He’s not going to get all hot and bothered if our prayers don’t come out ready for publication. We often keep ourselves from building a relationship with Jesus because we’re trying to fix ourselves out first, but really, Jesus is the only thing that can really fix us.

Despite what you may have seen, heard, or been told, being a Christian is not about going to church on Sundays. It’s not about following the Ten Commandments, or taking Communion, or doing good deeds. Those bits are important, sure, but they won’t get you anywhere on their own.

Being a Christian is about a relationship with the Father, through Jesus, and powered by the Spirit. It’s about loving God and learning more and more every day just how much He loves you first. The closer we get to his light, the more those things will come. The closer we get to His light, the more everything else will pop into view. The closer we get to His light, the more we’ll know that He’s the thing, above all else, that is most worth looking at.

Gratitude, or, the Ministry of Thanksgiving

Originally Published: October 15, 2018

The other day when I was on Instagram, I came across a friend’s Instagram story that said the following:

“There’s something I realized last night when I celebrated Thanksgiving with my family. What I realized [was] that we all tend to wait for a certain date to say thanks for all the things we have in our lives. Then we post it on social media and kind of compete [to see] who’s more thankful and who isn’t. This should never be the case in any situation. All of us every day should be thankful for the big things and small things we have in our life, such as the amazing people in our lives. Whether it be friends, family, co-worker[s], and etc. The time we have just being alive and being able to wake up [with] a roof over our heads, food, clothes, health, and other things we take for granted. Obviously, no one’s perfect. No one has to be because I’m guilty of this as well. So just take this as a reminder today, don’t be thankful for today but be thankful for every day. For everything that happened in your life. Happy thanksgiving to all of you who have been there for me because I don’t say thank you enough to any of you.”

To be perfectly honest with you, this was eye-opening to me. I agreed wholeheartedly–I also realized that I’m just as much to blame.

But that was a week ago. Fast-forward to today and the thanksgiving cheer has all but faded from my feed. Was this well-intentioned prophet of our times fated to be trapped in the system they sought to undermine? Why can’t thanksgiving seem to break free of a date on the calendar?

I think the answer is that, without the reminder to reflect, being “thankful for everyday” is just plain hard.

Gratefulness is a fundamental part of thanksgiving. You need to know what you are grateful for in order to give thanks for it. However, the mode in which we live our lives is typically not one of gratitude. We take things for granted–things like possessions: our phones, clothes, and daily amenities–when there are people around the world who couldn’t even dream of having such luxury. Believe me, I’m guilty as much as everyone else when it comes to all this. I’m a person who loves switching phones every few months to next big thing. I don’t take it into fact that even having the ability to do this is a massive privilege.

Those dates on the calendar that I mentioned earlier–your Thanksgivings, your Mother’s and Father’s days, your Grandparent’s days, and so on–give us a structured reminder for gratitude. They are rituals that encourage reflection and (quite effectively) get at that grateful core of thanksgiving. In that, we can see their greatest utility

The problem comes with how we use social media. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against social media in general, and I hit up Instagram just as often as the next guy, but just like rituals–just like most good things–we can use social media poorly.

In this case, a lot of us often tend to pose our lives for show–not everyone, but many of us do this; honestly speaking, I do too

So, our gratitude gets co-opted by vanity; we want to outdo each other in our thanksgiving, to the point that we can start to wonder whether we’re genuinely grateful at all, or whether we’re just putting on the show we’re expected to.

Of course, sometimes the gratitude simply isn’t there. Sometimes the negative outweighs the positive, which presents its own problems. What do you post on Father’s Day when your father walked out on you as a kid? How do you respond to Mother’s Day when your mother has been verbally abusive all your life? How do you fit into 240 characters that you want love them anyway? How do you fit into 240 characters that you don’t?

I hope that that’s not the case for you. I hope those around you give you a lot to be thankful for. If not, all I can say is that you’re in good company. In Genesis, we read about Joseph, an Israelite who also didn’t have much to be thankful for. As a young man, his brothers sold him into slavery, and he spent the next several decades either enslaved or in jail. However, after it was all said and done, and God had brought him to a place of prosperity, he forgave his brothers, saying, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today.

Gratitude is a focus on what we have, not what we lack. Oftentimes, we confuse our perspective of the two; we neglect the way in which we’re privileged (you’re probably already familiar with this demonstration) and put too much focus on what we want to get–things that are often not within our control.

God sees both the privilege and the lack, and he acknowledges them, and works in them, saying “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care…So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows” (Matthew 10).

That leaves it up to us to undertake the ministry of thanksgiving–because really, that’s what it is: a ministry, both to ourselves and others.

Evan Stephens Hall of Pinegrove puts it perfectly in his song “Old Friends:” “I should call my parents when I think of them/ Should tell my friends when I love them.” Let’s make every day Thanksgiving. Let’s make every day Father’s Day, and Mother’s Day, and insert-relative-or-friend-here day.

For my part, I’m just going to give a quick shoutout to my parents, my sibling, my friends, my cousins, my girlfriend, my mentors, my church, and my classmates. I’m so thankful for all of you and I’m grateful for having all of you in my life, because without your outgoing support, I wouldn’t be where I am today. You have all made me the person I am today.

I also want to thank you, for taking time out of your busy schedule to read this and join us on your journey. We wouldn’t be able to do this without you guys.

So, go out and do it. Call your parents when you think of them. Tell your friends that you love them. Don’t wait to be reminded; live in gratitude, and the reminder won’t be necessary.

Talk to you again soon, and as always, stay grateful.

The Dominican Republic; or, New Ways of Seeing

Originally Published: September 24, 2018

On April 29th, 2017, when I was still a relatively new Christian, I had the opportunity to go on my first overseas mission trip to the Dominican Republic. I was there for 11 days. By the end of it, I had been baptised and given an entirely new way of looking at the world.

“But hang on,” you’re saying. “I thought you had already been baptised? You had a whole blog post about it! Don’t you typically only get baptised once.”

That I have, dear reader, and that I did, and that you do. But, as always, when have I ever done anything the normal way?

To explain what led me to this crazy viewpoint shift, I’d have to explain what happened on the trip. This itself is a bit of a challenge, because it was a bit like drinking from a fire hose. Not only did we do a lot (oh we kept busy), but God also taught me so much through the things I saw and the connections I made.

The easiest place to start is by talking a little bit about the culture shock that hit me when I first arrived. For those of you who haven’t been to the Dominican Republic or have only been to an all-inclusive resort of some sort, you should know that, while the DR is an incredibly beautiful country, it is also one that is characterized by lack. The poverty there was unlike anything I’d ever seen, and coming from a reasonably middle-class Canadian home, the disconnect cut like a knife.

The thing is: I say it was characterized by lack, but I soon discovered the one who was lacking was me. Not in physical wealth, but rather in emotional wealth–in contentment. They had less than I–some of them had literally nothing–but they were still smiling. I’ve got everything comparison, but I’ve lived my life feeling so unsatisfied.

The way I have seen the world has dictated the way I have thought about it. I’ve worked myself to the bone, believing that busyness is to be admired. I’ve spent so much of my time fantasizing (or more often, worrying) about the future, or chained to what I left behind, while the present passes me by. I have let beautiful moments slip through my fingers because I was reaching towards the bigger thing, the louder thing, the thing that everyone’s talking about, and everyone sees.

If these all sound cliché, it’s because they are. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard someone say to “take time to smell the roses;” even the ancient sage text, Kung Fu Panda, has reminded us that “now is a gift; that’s why it’s called the present.” Yet, despite how much we hear this, I still see my friends burning out, still see people crushed under the weight of expectation and anxiety.

What I learned in the DR is this: what really creates change in these areas is changing the way you understand the relationship between you, God, and everything else around you.

As it says in Matthew 6 (possibly the most famous chapter in the Bible about worry), “seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” This was the thing I was forgetting. Chasing after what the world can give you is like trying to grab minnows in a pool–hard to catch and even harder to live off of. I learned that I need to build my relationship with God first–to make him my best friend, above all, and be able to share anything with him–and let everything else fall into place around that.

This is difficult to do. I’m not going to sugar-coat it, because it hasn’t always been sweet for me. It requires time and effort on your end–not to get right with God in order to speak with him; Jesus already took care of that, and not to get God to listen; He’s always willing to talk to you whenever you want. Rather, it’s really hard to break out of the self-focused circles we get ourselves into–to learn to pray effectively, to read the Bible beyond just skimming the words. But in the end, it’s all worth it, because of the person you’re getting to know. 

In Philippians 4 (possibly the most taken-out-of-context passage in the Bible), Paul writes this:

…I am [not] speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.

Paul’s secret (I mean, really, it’s the worst-kept secret. There’s a whole book about it that people give out for free, but I digress) is that relationship. When you stand on that foundation, you’ll be able to weather anything that comes.

And things will come, good and bad. In the DR, God also showed me that I should explore different things in life–different parts of His creation. I’ll discover the things I’m good at–the stuff God has gifted me in–but also the areas where I fall short. This is a scary prospect. Like Joshua at the beginning of his self-titled book, it’s like standing on a hill, looking at the land God has promised, a land that is full of joy, prosperity, and a future, but also people who want to hurt you.

Yet, just like Joshua, I hear God speak: “be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you, wherever you go.”

That’s why I got baptised in the waters of Pedernales, Dominican Republic, thousands of miles away from home. That’s why I’m not the same person I was before that trip, or before REMIX, or before Serpent River. That’s why I’ll never be the same person, why I’ll always be changing, discovering new ways of seeing, and generally trying to be more and more like Jesus.

I do it all in response to His love. He loved me first and died for me; it’s him I’m working to please first–not the world and certainly not myself. Whatever I become, whatever I do, wherever I go, and whoever I am, above all, I am His.

Learning to Breathe; or, Loving yourself like God loves you

Originally Published: September 10, 2018

Close your eyes and imagine with me for a second. Wait–no don’t do that; most people can’t read with their eyes closed.

Okay, let’s try again. Keep your eyes open and imagine with me (that’s better). Imagine you’re sitting in a plane, 30 000 feet in the air, on your way to the tropical vacation you’re starting to wish for now that fall is fast approaching. There’s a child, maybe 7 or 8 years old, in the seat beside you, fiddling with a cell phone that he’s probably too young for. On the other side, there’s a woman, maybe 70 or 80 years old, with the same brand of phone but half of the innate tech-savviness. Suddenly, you hear a loud crack outside the window, and the cabin bumps in the air. The captain’s voice comes on over the intercom and tells you that there’s a problem with the engine, everyone gets to their seats. There’s another bump and the oxygen masks drop from the ceiling. Here’s the moment of truth–do you:

1. Help the kid, now screaming, get his mask on?
2. Help the woman, now fainted, get her mask on?
3. Put your own mask on?

If you’d been listening to the flight attendant before takeoff, you would know that the correct answer (as it always is) is C. Why? Because if you run out of oxygen, you’re not really gonna be much use to anyone else, are you?

This metaphor is probably one you’ve heard before; it has become commonplace when talking about how we need to care for ourselves in order to care for others. However, for a Christian, taking care of oneself doesn’t always seem so cut and dry.

The Bible is clear as to what our priorities should be. When asked what the greatest commandment in God’s law is, Jesus answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’This is the first and greatest commandment.And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

Our top two concerns are God and others. We see this echoed again in Philippians 2:3, where Paul reminds us to “do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above [our]selves.”

So now imagine you’re back on the plane again, only this time, you’re not a passenger, you’re a pilot. Your whole job is centered around the people in the cabin behind you–people who are now screaming in terror as you nosedive through the air.

Actually, scratch that. Now you’re Superman, flying underneath the plane, holding it aloft so that you can deliver everyone on board safely to the ground. Not only is this your job, it is now your duty–the centrepiece of your life. If you fail, you essentially fail at being who you’re supposed to be: a superhero.

This is how we tend to think–we see the world on our shoulders, the crashing plane in our hands, and need to save it. The problem here is this: we are not superheroes.

Keeping the world spinning is God’s job, not ours. Changing people’s’ hearts is God’s job, not ours.

If you’re anything like me, you know that it’s not easy to ‘hang up the tights,’ so to speak. I’ve been known to be a bit of a workaholic, filling my schedule with things to keep me occupied. Everything I’d stuff my time with was still good–leadership, kingdom building, mentorship–but I soon realized (or should I say, I have been realizing) that I just couldn’t handle everything. It was taking a toll on my body, my mind, and my spirit.

If you were following my extended metaphor closely, you might have noticed something else that becomes blatantly clear when you think about it simply: the pilot should be the first one to put on their oxygen mask, otherwise the passengers have no chance at all.

Think about it this way: if the pilot were to drop their controls and run to the back to try to put everyone else’s masks on first, it wouldn’t matter if they could breathe or not, because they wouldn’t be in the air for long.

There were many points in my life where I tried to be the pilot who rushed to the back, and the effects were apparent. Forgetting to care for myself caused me to lose my energy and time and work myself into a state that I wouldn’t wish on anyone else. I was fighting everyone’s battles but my own, and often, they didn’t appreciate the scars I took for them.

The Bible calls our bodies a temple. That means that we need to take care of ourselves, in order to please God. However, we also know that God loves each and every one of us–not just as metaphysical mortar and stone, but as people, and as children. He wants us to be healthy, in mind, body, and spirit, because He cares about our holistic wellbeing.

Looking back to that passage from Matthew, even though our two priorities are God and others, we can see that a love for yourself is also vital. Jesus says, “Love your neighbour as yourself,” not “love your neighbour like your pet” or “love your neighbour like a particularly good book.” We need our benchmark, and God has given it to us by showing us just how much He loves us; He sent Jesus to die and rise again, for after all, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13).

God cares for us this much, and (while we can never love anything as much as God loves us) we need to treat ourselves with the same kind of love. Then as a result, we will show that kind of love to others

Learning how to care for yourself is never an easy journey, and really, it can’t be summed up in a simple metaphor. It takes evaluation and re-evaluation; it takes looking at your life frankly and being humble enough to ask for help when you need it. It takes putting in the effort towards yourself–getting to know yourself, what helps you, and what hinders you–so that you can put in the effort towards others.

I was fortunate; I had people in my life that told me that I needed to take some time off and recharge and just focus on myself, which I found helpful. Self-care takes many different forms, and it’s going to be different for everyone, but there are some touchstones.

1. Do things you love–This is a great place to start. Barring things that hurt you (drugs, toxic relationships, etc.), you should do the things that make you happy (in moderation, of course).
2. Do things with people you love — We’re built to be in community, so lean into that. If you’re an introvert, you’ll need your alone time of course, but don’t isolate yourself.
3. Do things that connect you to God–Spend time reading the bible, listening to worship music, praying. Really though, this also encapsulates everything you do in #1 and 2; God is your ultimate source of life, so all care comes from Him in one way or another–if it doesn’t, it’s not care.

The Christian walk always starts with you and God. The love you give others should always be a response to how you are seen and loved by God. You can’t share life–oxygen or otherwise–with someone else if you aren’t plugged in to your own source.

Trust in God live your life in his footsteps and He will not only be there to help you in your time of need, but He will give you more than you could ever imagine for yourself. He is the ultimate caregiver, the real hero holding up the plane, and He has no plans to let it fall.