"Have Any of You Been Taught the Proper Way to Sneeze?"

Today at the School of Her Majesty I was warmly greeted in every class by a loud yellow paper with the words – IMPORTANT NOTICE - on it. As the Professors made sure to deliver one to every student I was curious as to what could be so pending. As it turns out it was the always-fearful H1N1. This was all part of the University’s attempt to help stop a “pandemic” and make sure students could be contacted in the case of an outbreak.

Every student in the school today was given this little piece of paper in every class they attended, in order to make sure that they checked their university email account, making sure it was at least forwarded to another account such as Gmail.

Which begs the question, how, and I’ll paraphrase what Texas asked in class today - if there is a pandemic at the school are we supposed to filter through our 400 other pieces of junk mail in our inboxes to discover that we should not attend school today for fear of losing our lives? There was no response.

And so The Count proceeded to tell the class that this was the school’s way of letting us know we are a valued asset to the school and that The Queen is prepared with a plan…just in case.

Which leads me to my point; does any of this H1N1 hysteria sound anything like the time of Y2K? I don’t mean to be unsympathetic to anyone who has lost a loved one to the virus, and it is not my point to make light of that. But it is my point to try and figure out just why this flu is receiving the press that it is. I understand that the ‘Second Wave’ is on it’s way (apparently) but how come we decide not to look at Australia who is just finishing it’s flu season and learn that there were relatively few problems? Would this not help to calm some of these seemingly irrational fears that are plastered all over the news?

And why is it that we are always investing money in something because it’s “the responsible thing to do?” Understand that I really shouldn’t mind investing money in a flu shot, or equipping my workplace with an absurd amount of sanitizing product that would fend off a worldwide outbreak of the virus. But if I do not do what I’m told, what the ‘responsible’ thing to do is, then I will be looked down upon, and my employees will feel unappreciated, and want to never work for me again (seriously?). And so the cycle continues.

Fear of some global crisis.
Stockpiling of (fill in the blank)
Nothing substantial occurs
Some company makes a lot of money
REPEAT CYCLE

I would be interested to know which company is responsible for creating the flu vaccine, and I would love too look at how well their profits are for next quarter.
So remember that if you have a cough, a sneeze, sore throat or a runny nose you might have H1N1. And while you probably don’t, and you will most likely be fine, be ’responsible’ and go by something to take care of yourself.

For everyone else sake…

Right…

An Introduction of Sorts

When I moved to the sometimes-wonderful city of Regina I was inspired to begin a little project with this blog. I have been hesitant to start this because if I am going to start this new idea then I need to give my best attempt to keep it up and finish it. It's these failed attempts to finish these 'projects' in my life that seem to have built their own graveyard in these past twenty some years of my life.

Now here's how it works;

I was inspired by watching the movie Julia and Julia (that's not me recommending the movie, although I did laugh quite a bit) and I was reminded that a lot of these weblogs have some sort of purpose behind them; such as working through a cookbook, one recipe a day for an entire year. Well this blog too shall have a purpose outside of the occasional rant or vent that it has seen in the past.

I am currently enrolled in the Faculty of Business Administration at the University of Regina. It’s a privilege to come to school everyday and learn about different subjects, to meet new and interesting people, and to engage in some exciting discussion. It’s here that I find the purpose for my blog. I want to bring the University to, whoever reads this, to share some good stories and discuss them. We will follow the lives of different students and encounter different circumstances say in sports, relationships, church, social groups, work, or any number of other instances. It’s my hope to document and discuss - almost like writing my own fiction novel – these lives, which will be presented as a form of fiction. And maybe, because this is literature and it can take many forms I will make up some stories that I wish would take place in this city. A little imagination never hurt anyone…I think. Although I was told in English class that a lot of poets from the past – creative and imaginative geniuses – ended up taking their own lives for one reason or another. We will chalk this up to coincidence and blaze forward with our attempt at creativity and imagination.

It will be interesting for sure.

That’s the hope. One entry every day – give or take a few hours- for the rest of the school year. I think it’s possible, and I believe it will be fun. And it’s my hope that I’ll present a look into the lives of the University, it’s students, and their thoughts.

Here goes nothing…

A Little Slice of Honesty

I woke up this morning with a sense of anxiety in my heart. It's becoming quite common now, but it's something I no longer want to be a part of. I find this anxiety comes from my lack of perspective, from a desire to need to be in control. I feel as though if I am the one in control than everything will at least play out in front of my eyes, and if I can see it happening then I can help shape it into the situation that I most desire.

This is honestly one of the greatest banes in my life. To live a life of trust, of abandonment to God in the areas I care about most in my life would be a dream come true. I can imagine giving up my biggest dreams, all my hopes and aspiration to the One who knows best. It's never an easy thing to do, but I will not rest until I see this transition take place.

I want nothing more than to never have to worry about those 'big' issues in my life. And the truth is I don't. I want to see my life lived in a way that is free, truly free, one that in many ways 'rolls' with the punches, seeing the Lord's hand even in what I don't understand.

He knows best. He knows best. He knows best. He knows best. He knows best.

I trust your promises....
I give you control...
I'm terrified....

I Am Beginning to Care Less...

This morning I’m drawn to the words of Solomon…

“Everything is meaningless….I said to myself, Come on, let’s try pleasure. Let’s look for the good things in life. But I found that this, too, was meaningless. So I said, Laughter is silly. What good does it to seek pleasure? After much thought, I decided to cheer myself with much wine. And while still seeking wisdom, I clutched at foolishness. In this way, I tried to experience the only happiness most people find during their brief life in this world.

I also tried to find meaning by building huge homes for myself and planting beautiful vineyards. I made gardens and parks, filling them with all kinds of fruit trees. I built reservoirs to collect water to irrigate my many flourishing groves. I bought slaves, both men and women, and others were born into my household. I also owned large herds and flocks, more than any of the kings who had lived in Jerusalem before me. I collected great sums of silver and gold, the treasure of many kings and provinces. I hired wonderful singers, both men and women, and had many beautiful concubines. I had everything a man could desire!

So I became greater than all who lived in Jerusalem before me, and my wisdom never failed me. Anything I wanted I would take. I denied myself no pleasure. I even found great pleasure in hard work, a reward for all my labors. But as I looked at everything I had worked so hard to accomplish, it was all so meaningless – like chasing the wind. There was nothing really worthwhile anymore.”

Somehow when I woke up this morning I found myself sharing the same thoughts.

This is all meaningless.

I come nowhere close to comparing with King Solomon in all that he experienced, but somehow we’ve arrived at the same conclusion.

It’s all meaningless even beyond money, material things, and the obvious ideas that are so easily seen withering away.

In this moment I’m talking about the smiles and the frowns, the risks and the reservations, the laughter and the crying, the dreams and the status quos, the fallings in love and the getting my times my heart has been broken, learning all that there is to learn, experiencing all the great joys this planet has to offer, and fantastic memories built through our interactions.

All of it meaningless.

In this moment I could care less about any of these things.

I care not whether my day is good, whether I get lots accomplished, whether I make a few lasting memories, whether I see the world, get married, have kids, pursue my dreams, or let my stomach hurt from laughing so much. I could care less whether I win or lose, accomplish lots or little, have everything or nothing. If my life was lived out as Solomon’s and I denied myself no pleasure, and yet somehow missed knowing Christ and giving Him the glory He deserves, then I have known no pleasure at all; I have yet to truly live.

Nothing matters but Christ. All of these things are secondary to the King.

Everything is meaningless. Everything.

A Lie From Down Under...

It’s been a while since I’ve had the inspiration to write; although I see that slowly changing.

Oh what a summer it’s been and of course oh what a winter awaits.

I saw something long overdue on television the other day, but before I explain what that is let me first back up.

This year on Street Invaders – a short-term summer missions program – I was introduced to the new Hillsong album. A fantastic album for those of you still waiting to hear it, but I want to bring our attention to the song Healer. From my understanding (and please give me grace if this story is missing some parts), this song was written by a man serving as a youth or young adults pastor at another church in Australia. Nothing out of the normal there, except for the fact that the man was dieing of cancer. In fact, when watching a sermon he spoke a few months ago you can see the oxygen tubes in his nose as they are no doubt there out of necessity. He warns the audience members in the front row to tell him if blood starts coming out of his mouth and then off he goes, delivering and inspiring sermon of how the Lord is his healer.

The song essentially is the same story; it was given to him by God on a whim after he had been diagnosed with this deadly disease. If you haven’t yet heard it make sure you do, it’s quite the moving melody, and no doubt will inspire many people to cling to Christ in their hard times. (the words “nothing is impossible” are still ringing in my mind as I can no doubt hear the Hillsong choir chanting in my room.)

Now here is where things get interesting. It – meaning this pastor’s cancer – was all a lie. It was a sham, a hoax, completely untrue. He was never dieing of cancer; it was made up.

I remember watching this on CNN a few days ago and waiting for the backlash of this awful deception. I was waiting for people to write the guy off and throw him to the wolves for what he had done.

It never happened.

What I saw instead on the television screen that day was a powerful beam of hope.

As the CNN reporters were walking around to different members of the church asking what they thought of the pastors actions they had this to say, “I’m just glad he’s getting the help he needs,” or “ We’re all human, it could have happened to anyone. I’m just glad he’s getting some help.”

All right stop and contemplate what we just heard. These people who have been deceived, even this pastor’s own family are on national television acting as though it’s no big deal?

Hope covered the entirety of my face.

I watched, as the body of Christ was able to give an honest representation of what it means to be Christians. They were forgiving, understanding, and caring only about the pastor and his well-being. This was a living example of the shift that I see taking place within the Body of Christ.

We’re starting to get the fact that we are all broken people, capable of horrible deceptions and lies, and yet Christ and His glory is bigger than all of that. We’re starting to figure out that it’s not about us and our feelings and they way we are treated, but it’s all about Christ and Him glorified.

I love seeing the Lord use a song that is no less powerful given this news, to redeem a mans struggle of sixteen years of the lusts of the flesh. He’s finally getting the help he’s always needed. And we as the body of Christ are no less whole than when we first started.

This is only a glimpse of where I feel we are going. I’m excited because I can see “hope rise” and it’s humbling being a part of it. May God continue to redeem our poor choices, and may His name be lifted even higher.

There’s always hope.

Cracking More Than a Cream Egg.

I work at a Husky gas station located a slow four minute walk from my house. I don’t really pump gas because we no longer have full serve, so you might be wondering what I do in a regular day. I make sure the slurpee machines are working properly – although there is unavoidable smell of vomit and diaper coming from somewhere behind it – and check the levels of coffee. Once that is finished I’ll empty the garbage and do a quick look around the place to make sure it is up and running and then I retire; retire that is to my milk crates arranged in such a fashion that they stand tall as my yellow plastic throne, where I strategically read through the terrible celebrity gossip magazines, all of which contain the exact same trash for different price amounts, that I will continue to claim to want nothing to do with. I will sit on my throne for the next six hours as I wait until 9pm, where I will begin locking the outside and putting other unnecessary trinkets away for the evening. It’s weird because most days I don’t hate my job outside of all the illegal/unfortunate activities that take place that are out of my control; promised money not being paid, holiday and overtime pay never awarded, the constant selling of expired goods. I get to meet a lot of people in my neighborhood and while the money is nowhere near desirable it is something, and I really should be thankful.

But sometimes the monotony of the job gets to me. I get frustrated knowing that I’m going to work with this really nice guy named Natik, which is an automatic promise that the next eight hours will be a lesson in patience and understanding as we struggle to communicate in the same language. I get frustrated because I long so heavily to be spending time with my friends, to be laughing in sweatpants, going out for coffee, or even arguing about hockey. I lose my focus and in doing so, watch as any life that I did receive from my job falls to the ground choked of its meaning. My job then becomes a job; an obstacle in the way of my future, a means to an end. If I will just push hard on the plow, this summer will be over soon and I’ll have the money I need for whatever the next step looks like. Customers become a never-ending hassle as the words “do you have an CAA card” become my motto. They are so engrained in my speech pattern now that I will ask a customer two or even three times if they need a bag because the sentence just slips out, like a that person in your life that is overly blunt and has been trying to work on it, “sorry…it slipped.”

Person after person, item after item, minute after minute, I begin to stand there purposeless. But once in a while something will happen to rip me out of that grey existence and place the smile I have lost back on the lower center of my face.
A father and his daughter came in one evening and were buying snacks for some unknown purpose. They loved each other – I know I can only assume, but I’ll go out on a limb for this one. The rummaged around the isles looking for the perfect amount of sugar and flavor, and then with their hands full of candy they came to the till to pay. There I was a sullen statue waiting to ring them in. And then, the daughter reaches to her left and says “should we get Elliot a Crème Egg daddy?” In that moment my heart leapt to life, as if Brian McNamee himself had injected adrenaline into. I was caught off guard, as I was ripped out of my monotony and shown a ray of ife’s light. “You want to buy me a Crème Egg?” Let me clarify a little bit; I love the name Elliot, and to show my appreciation for the name I have worn it proudly as my name tag, training myself to respond to questions like, “how are you today Elliot.” And there it was sitting in the middle of the pile of candy, a delicious Crème Egg for me, for Elliot. It was a moment that reminded me of the language my heart speaks; blessings, philanthropy, ultimately love. I was alive once again with the glimmer of hope in my heart that had become so dim. Hope for the human race, a hope rooted in Him, a hope that said today does not have to be the lifeless memory it has been in the past.

And so as the father and daughter couple packed up all there candy, including the Crème Egg I was so earnestly staring at, a puzzled look crossed my face as I was left asking two questions: First, how great is our Lord that he would use something so simple to remind me of His greatness, His purpose, and His love, no longer allowing me to forget the beat of my own heart? And second, what are the chances that her brother’s name was Elliot?!

It All Started With a Red Stripe...

I’ve decided to take another prolonged break from studying to do some other types of research. I know I’m already doing research but in all honesty I care much more about the kind I am about to embark on over the next ten minutes.

It has occurred to me over the past few years that when I listen to music it ignites something inside me, something deep, something substantial. This something is hard to find words for, as you I’m sure may have already noticed. But it’s a dynamic part of who I am. It’s one of the reasons I’ve decided to commit to playing the guitar because there is a part of me, an earnest and sincere part of me, that can no longer express what my heart longs to scream on the end of a pen. I love writing and during different times it is the only outlet for my thoughts and prayers that will do. But there is some sort of mystery that music contains that I can’t explain…

For example, how do I explain the times when a certain song about nothing and everything can poetically put into sound my exact feeling, thoughts, and even my actions?

How can a song that is so openly devoted to a love for another person somehow captivate a piece of my heart for my Lord?

How can a story about a drummer from a particular band’s last performance bring me to tears when I heard that the band turned around and played the last song facing him, looking into his eyes as they held memories open during that euphoric last few notes?

How is it that when I find myself alone in my room with a pair of white plastic discs over my ears, I feel as though I can fly. I feel as though I am invincible. I feel as though I never want to leave.

How is it that when I hear a twenty second clip of a certain song I get motivated to the point of running until collapse. I don’t even know what they are saying in the song, but I do know what it does to my insides. They speak the same language.

I recently went on a trip to Portland to watch my new friend Tom Delong play some notes on his guitar. It was fantastic in a whole assortment of ways. But over the twenty-hour trip there, I was crammed in a vehicle with four other guys who understood what I am talking about above. We laughed, we cried, we screamed, we whispered, and we most certainly played a mean air guitar.

Music was our mode of transportation.

I ask my folks all the time if they “hear” that when I play them a song. They return blank empty looks and reply politely, “yes”. They miss it. It’s not their fault and it’s not a bad thing either. It’s just something that’s not inside them.

I’m tempted to quote the sports drink commercial here and ask my question in a way that will be parallel to shameless promotions, but instead I’ll end off in a slow, tapered like way and ask…

Do you hear what I hear?

No Mr. Mcgough I Will Not Answer the Phone!

After a long and torturous Statistics exam, I had it in my mind to start studying for my next exam; Economics. Why would anyone think that! On second thought, why not curl up next to my guitar, learn a few things about it – like how to make it sing - and watch a movie! In honor of Cloverfield, I think I will take the latter.

Over the past few days I found myself in a number of precarious positions, all which occurred at different moments and all internally. How easily I find myself floating on a cloud being cavalier only to be followed moments later by strangling doubt about who I am. It has become fascinating to me how faithful the Lord is in lifting us up. Every time I’m attacked by this ridiculous anxiety, I ask myself when the last time I made purposeful room for Him in my life was.

It seems I always allow the Lord to find me, when my life seems to be moving along at a decent clip. I am oh so thankful for all He does for me, and for who He is, and I most certainly thank Him for the good times and the fantastic sunshine – which is nowhere in sight in this moment – but I never actively seek Him out to spend time with Him.

It’s like those friendships - which I know none of us have - that involve one friend doing all the work, one friend pulling the weight of two people. I would go so far – it’s not really that far – to say that those sort of friendships are not that, but mere acquaintances.
A perfect example of that can be found in my house at around 5 pm most weekdays when the phone rings. And when I don’t answer it, it rings again two minutes later. And then again, two minutes later. And then again two minutes later. You’re wondering why I am not answering the phone, and it’s because I don’t have the energy to answer once again, that I don’t have Nathan’s cell phone number. If you’ve been to my house in the past year you know what I’m talking about.

But how often do we live in a one-way relationship with the Lord? How often do we find ourselves in a wonderful state giving glory to the Lord with our words, but never take time to thank Him intimately, giving Him more than a moment in our colorful lives.

I for one will admit I do not give Him enough time, especially when my life seems to be going well. But I do want to remedy that. And how do I go about doing that? By simply doing it. By being conscious that He deserves more of my day. By cutting out perhaps one period of a playoff game, start with the second, and go spend that twenty minutes giving purposeful praise, thanks, and honor to the Lord.

So what am I waiting for? Another whistle? Nope, I think I’m going to try and start this habit now…