Whatever He Says

Hey, when God is making something clear, it is exciting how his Word pops, like kernels of popcorn blasting from hard nuggets to delicious edible morsels.  I read one of my favourite Bible chapters this morning:  the book of Colossians, chapter 3 , and some of the verses, when I read them in the light of what I shared in my last blog post,  The Heavy Weight of Words,  had deeper significance than ever. Think about the agency of the Enemy of God to divide, and his propensity for the use of words to do so, perverting the gift that sets us apart from all the other wonderfully created beings on this planet. See how some of the verses from the passage in Colossians emphasize that fact in describing his influence, to which humans are all too receptive. Look at the contrast with the character of God, with which Paul the apostle, admonishes us to "clothe" ourselves. Colossians 3:8-12 New International Version (NIV) 8  But now you must also rid yourselves  of all such things as

 I was reading  Life of the Beloved  by Henri J.M. Nouwen  recently, and in a chapter titled "Living as the Beloved," he wrote these lines, which I thought about for days afterwards, and am still pondering: "The forces of darkness are the forces that split, divide and set in opposition. The forces of light unite. Literally, the word 'diabolic' means dividing. The demon divides; the Spirit unites." I was telling a friend about this over lunch one day this week, someone who is also a lover of words. We sat in the front window of a cafe, overlooking the main street of a town decorated for Christmas, and I pulled out my e-reader to look up the gospel of John, chapter 17, verses 20-23  , the prayer of Jesus, which suddenly hit me as the antithesis of "diabolic" in the way it focuses on "being one." Yesterday, curious to learn more, I looked up the word "diabolic" for myself and found this, under the heading "etymology of de

Cindy Blackstock, a Canadian activist and advocate for First Nations children Commissioner Marie Wilson A small crowd of people stood beneath an ominous grey sky, hugging their coats close, and holding tight to elegant green Beechwood Cemetery  umbrellas, bracing against sudden gusts of wind that caught and swirled golden yellow leaves in the air. A CBC camera person in a warm, red jacket, recorded an event as significant as it was small; a correction of a slice of Canadian history in the form of a plaque. It was Sunday, November 1, the beginning of a month associated with remembrance and Paul and I had just driven five hours to Ottawa to witness a ceremony that shone truth on a part of history that was remembered until now, through the blindfold of prejudice. Ever since September and an earlier trip to Ottawa, when we had lunch with Cindy Blackstock ; a Canadian born Gitxsan activist for child welfare, and the Executive Director of the First Nations Child and Family