Carlos Foster is only 21, but he already has a resume many people twice his age would envy. He is currently juggling a demanding career in marketing, an MBA program which he expects to finish next year, and several community commitments. Despite his age, however, this kind of demanding schedule is nothing new for Foster.
As I write this, our front yard is full of birds. One of my favourites during this late part of April is the white-crowned sparrow, which is making its massive spring migration to the north. My friend Mel Colson says that the male’s mating call is this: poor-Will-peeeeed-his-pants. I wouldn’t forget that mnemonic device soon. (Remember that word to impress your teacher or parents.)
In this season of my life, the Lord has granted me a front row seat to what he’s up to in the lives of the “rising generations.” I’d like to serve as an ambassador between the rising generations and our church. Young adults love Jesus. They’re great with Jesus, but they’re much more skeptical when it comes to the church. Their concerns can be roughly gathered into three categories: money, sex and power. These are old gods – Mammon, Eros, Mars. And our young adults are warning us that these old gods are seducing the church in ways that they find deeply troubling. Let’s look in particular at money.
Last September, I was halfway up the mast of a tall ship when the world shifted beneath my feet. When I began my ascent, the ships’ heel over offered a favourable climbing slope. But just as the soggy rope ladder narrowed towards the top, we rounded a race buoy, the skipper called for a change of course and the whole vessel lurched to the opposite side.
There was a time in the distant past when “distance education” meant sending letters to an instructor far away by post. In the long-distant past, you could do distance education by sending cassette tapes to an instructor in the mail. And just yesterday, distance education was about sitting down in front of a desktop or laptop computer and doing education over the internet.
A friend told me he and his wife have a habit of sitting out on the front porch on Fridays after work and just having sweet conversation about the week. His teenage daughter approached them last week and innocently asked, “Why do you sit here and talk?”
When we read Bible stories about sacrificing children to gods, we quickly explain that is ancient history; we claim we don’t do that anymore. Is that true? I pause now before saying that because this spring I witnessed a modern equivalent in the sacrifice of children’s health to our modern gods.
In a recent column, I mentioned the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) as the most reliable source for the meaning and spelling of English words.
I hated that big blue box of sand in the corner of my classroom. Every Sunday morning, I painstakingly pried little fingers away from its plywood lid. “It’s storytime!” I chimed, “you can play in the sand later.”
Sonya VanderVeen Feddema was inspired to write this story after a visit to refugee camps in Kenya and Uganda in 2007 with CRWRC’s (World Renew) Refugee Learning Tour.
A review of children’s picture books.
It’s your first day of school today. We all bike with you through the hamlet. You stop and look both ways at the Co-Op like we’ve taught you, and I want to tuck you back inside my womb and never let you go.