God Reaching Out

Apparently it's Christmas time. It seems everyone enjoys this time of year, however to Christians it should be even more significant. This is the time we celebrate the the event which started it all. I usually stop and read the gospel account of the Christmas story, however I usually find that I don't get much from it. Let's face it, I can more or less recite it from memory in several different translations. We hear it every year, at church, at home, on TV and on those PSA pieces on Christian radio.

Today I came to do my Bible reading and realized that I was done the study I was on. When this happens, I usually head on over to BibleGateway.com and read their passage of the day. Not suprisingly, it was part of the Christmas story. The passage today was the story of the Magi. I read the online commentary that goes with this passage and it set me off on a train of thought that I had never persued before. Have you ever considered the significance of the Magi? First of all they were pagans, not only pagans, but astrologers. Astrology was not a welcome profession in the Jewsih world. Yet here they come, and they must not have come quietly. We all know they brought expensive gifts, yet they got in to see Herod. It is therefore safe to assume that they probably came in a large caravan with a lot of fanfare. They probably expected this new King to be found in the royal court. The problem is, He wasn't there.

Disturbed at the notion of a new Jewish King, Herod calls in the religious leaders to ask them about the Messiah. Here's the kicker, these leaders figure out what town the Messiah would be in. Do they care? Do they go with the Magi to worship the One their people have been waiting for? No. Those who came to worship Jesus were foreigm pagans. There's other examples like this throughout the Bible. Consider Philip and the Etheopian Eunich. This man was far from being in line with the accepted religios culture of the time, yet he is seeking Jesus and Philip leads him to salvation. God reaches out to all, and often to the ones we least expect it. By using a star to mark His Son't birth, he reached deep into the pagan world of astrology, and touched the heart of people most would not have expected to worship the Messiah. Today in our world, God wants to reach into the cultures that are entrenched in beliefs that take them far from Him. His arms are open.

What if his people prayed?

What if His people prayed
And those who bare His name
Would humbly seek His face
And turn from their own way

What if his people prayed? It is a convicting question asked by the band Casting Crowns. The first thing we would have to ask ourselves is, what is prayer? The simple answer is that prayer is talking to God. Often we say that when we pray we are coming into God's presence. We, these earth dwelling creatures, are in the company of the Almighty. Just think about that for a minute. Do we take prayer seriously enough? Do we really see it as the weapon it is?

What if the armies of the Lord
Picked up and dusted off their swords
Vowed to set the captives free
And not let satan have one more

When Jesus was being arrested he said "[p]ut your sword back where it belongs. All who use swords are destroyed by swords. Don't you realize that I am able right now to call to my Father, and twelve companies—more, if I want them—of fighting angels would be here, battle-ready?" (Matthew 26:53, The Message). If we are willing to accept that Jesus was fully human, would he not be making this request through prayer? Look at the power Jesus knew that there was in talking to the Father!

Last week I attended the funeral of a friend. Sadly, it is not the first time I have sat and reflected on the short life of one of my peers. This time it was my friend Pat. About two weeks prior to his death he was taken into hospital with terminal cancer. Of course I prayed. I have prayed all my life. I have prayed for my own needs, I have prayed for the salvation of others and I have certainly prayed for healing. Something was different this time though. Pat was terminal. There was no hope. I must confess that I accepted this diagnosis and found myself praying for his comfort and salvation, but not for his healing. Why? Because Pat was terminal, there was to be no healing. I was challenged though by a friend, why not pray for the miracle? I began to question this, why not? Why not ask God to intervene in a mighty way. I realized though that I could not pray for this miracle, I did not know how to.

Hebrews 11:6 says "[i]t's impossible to please God apart from faith. And why? Because anyone who wants to approach God must believe both that he exists and that he cares enough to respond to those who seek him." So often we think of Matthew 17:20 where Jesus says that if we had the faith of a mustard seed then we could tell a mountain to move and it would. The faith of a mustard seed, (The Message says a poppy seed) that isn't very big. Is my faith that small? Well, yes and no. This is why I had a hard time praying for Pat's healing. I had all the faith that God could heal Pat. I have faith that God could move a mountain. But if I come before Him and ask Him to do it, do I have faith that He would? That is where my faith falls short. That is why so often prayer is a blunt weapon in our hands. We do not doubt that God can do it, we just doubt He will. This is what I am praying for now. I prayed that God would give me the faith I needed to pray for Pat's healing, and I continue to ask Him to give me the faith to ask great things.

Obviously Pat was not healed. It was a hard time for so many and it doesn't bear thinking how different it would have been had the miraculous happened. However, a great work was done through his illness. I truely believe that he accepted Christ and that through that, and through the acts of love performed by the Church, many were ministered to. Let's continue to pray that names may be added to the book of life. God can do it, and in this case I believe He will.

Looking forward

And many probably thought this blog was dead. Originally it was certainly only intended to last while I was in Europe. Since getting back though I have come to appreciate the value of witting my thoughts down. As many who know me can attest, I am generally an informed and opinionated person. I also like to talk and discuss my thoughts. Often, I find the best way to clear my ideas is to talk about them. From time to time, when I'm walking somewhere by myself, I will find myself explaining things as if there was someone with me. More often than not, these impromptu conversations with myself have helped me clarify and crystallize my thoughts. So here we are. I have decided to formalize things a bit more, and publish some of my thoughts here online. They may be read by crowds or by nobody at all. Either way I am fine.

I have also chosen to keep the same title for the blog. While I am no longer out traveling the globe, they do say that life is a journey. Here I offer my thoughts and ramblings from the road of life.

Munich Airport

I am in Munich Airport, waiting for check-in to open so that I can then drop off my bag and wait for my flight. Is waiting the thing to do?

Now, in my life I have been fortunate enough to see a number of different airports. From the run-down airport of Guatemala City, to the airport which was probably too small the day it was opened (El Dorado, Bogota), to a hurrican damaged Miami airport, to the cushy comfort of YVR. Munch airport, however, is something else. Forget all this German efficiency and order, it seems to have gone wrong here.

Things don't seem too bad when you first arrive. There is Terminal 2 for Star Alliance members and Terminal 1 for every other airline. Of course the metro takes you to Terminal 2. Oh well, I disembarked the metro and began following the signs to Terminal 1, easy enough. THere was one sign outside, then a few more inside. After a few minutes of walking, the trouble begins. All of a sudden you are confronted by TWO signs pointing opposite directions. You see, Terminal 1 has five different wings, not gates, wings. Each wing has its own gates, its own arrival area and its own check-in. Is there a sign anywhere telling you which airline leaves from which wing? If only we were so lucky. Better yet, some of the check-in desks are shared, so let's say you are looking for ClickAir (as I was), if their desk isn't open yet there is very little to tell you that you are at the right place. Now, one might think that a simple solution to this would be information desks. The Germans thought of this. They did, however, miss the crucial step of having someone AT the information desks. Anyway, the story ends up with me walking through three wings before finding an open information desk which told me ClickAir was in the fourth wing. I suppose I could have stopped and asked people, but your customer service plan shouldn't hinge on the kindness and knowledge of strangers. A sign would help.

Vienna and Munich

I am now in Munich, the last big touristy stop for me on this trip. On the 12th I will fly out of here for Barcelona where I will visit my cousin (who I haven't seen for nine years) for a whole day before returning to London and flying back to Vancouver.

Our last stop was Vienna. For those who don't know, my Grandmother on my Dad's side was born there. Being a jew, she left on not the greatest terms. I only had two days in the city. We spent the first touring around and seeing just the general sites. It was quite rainy, which compounded with the fact that I lost my rain jacket, made for not the greatest first impression. Despite this though, the city is clearly beautiful. Too many people back home are stuck with the Canadian view os a city and fail to even stop to think of what it would be like to walk down a road that is hundreds of years old. Vienna and Prague are cities that both stand out to me as places where you just look at the buildings, and not just in the old centres, and you can see that they've been there for a very long time. They are still beautiful though.

On the second day I set out to see a few more sites, but also find some sites of significance to my family. With help from my Dad and Great-Aunt Anni I pieced together an address for my Grandmother's old house. I wasn't too sure if it would be right, but once I got there and realized it was a residential building in the old jewish area I knew it probably was right. From there we headed up to Prater Park, an old amusement park dating from the late 1800s. It was good to see but was also a stopover on my next quest. I was out to find the old (and as it turns out current) site of Hakoah, a jewish sports club my Grandmother and her family had been a part of. After a walk which was much too long I did find it. I also found that the club is operational once more and has a brand new facility. After giving my story to the receptionist I was given a tour of the place and was most impressed.

From there it was back to the centre of town to locate an old swimming pool. My Great-Aunt was a swimmer, and if anyone has seen the documentary Watermarks, the pool I was looking for was the one in which they take their reunion swim. I did find it, it was sort of hidden in plain site, but sadly it was closed for the summer. I tried to go in, but there was a lot of scaffolding and construction dust falling on me, so I decided to leave. My last stop was then to the Holocaust Memorial, which is quite plain yet powerful. Once there though I found the ruins of a 14th century synagogue, which for a couple of euros was well worth seeing.

As I said, I am now in Munich. Tomorrow we will have a look around the city. There is a tour of the BMW plant which I may try and do. I'll let you know how it goes, stay tuned...

Berlin's Ghost Stations

I realize I never did much of an update from Berlin, so here goes. I loved the city. I loved seeing the sites of such important world events that happened well within my lifetime. The thing that stood out the most to me was the Ghost Stations (credit given here to Brian from Sanderman's New Europe or I never would have known about them). They are amazing because they are so simple, yet they say so much about the two important era's in Berlin's recent history. For those who don't know, Berlin's metro system is one of the oldest in the world, if not the oldest (I don't remember). As a consequence of this, once it came time to divide the city, these underground tunnels posed a bit of a problem. Some lines were easy. The East - West lines were simply cut in half and run independently. However, there were a handful of lines which run North - South that are primarily in the West, but cross over into the East for a few stops. The solution to this was simple, these became Ghost Stations. Trains wouldn't stop here, and the stations would be patrolled by the police and their dogs to make sure nobody got in or out. It wasn't until after the wall fell that once again these stations came into use. These stations, which stood idle for 30 odd years, still look today as they would have at the end of the war. The Nazi's rennovated them, and so today it is like stepping into the 1940s. The tiling is all browns and yellows and the stations signs are in the very recognizable Nazi script. I will post pictures hopefully later today.

 

Also while in Berlin, a little Euro Cup final game was played between Spain and Germany. As most of you probably know, it wasn't a very good game and Germany lost 1-0. It was still a fun environment to be in and I can only imagine what it would have been like had they won.

Now I'm in Prague

Who would have thought ten years ago, or even less, that Prague would be a must see city on a tour of Europe. The more you here people talk about it, the more it starts to seem like any other Western European country, then you arrive here and any doubt that you are in Eastern Europe is removed. Our train didn't pull into the central station, was we expected, but rather to one on the outskirts of town. My first reaction when stepping into the terminal was, "Am I in Armenia?" (Armenia being a town in the coffee producing region of Colombia). For one it is stinking hot, and secondly the place just looks like it should, a less developed city. We made our way towards our hostel on the metro then a tram. The metro is fun because some of the stations just look communist.

 

Our hostel is very nice. It was strange because we were searching for a place to stay online and this place didn't appear in the search results. We found it on a side bar under recently reviewed hostels. It had three ratings, all 100%, so we figured we could give it a try (especially since it was cheap). Well, turns out the reason it wasn't in the main results was because our first night was opening night, The three reviewers were early arrival guests. We arrived to an unmarked building to find workers still moving furniture in. The building itself seems to have been intended to be new apartments, but after completion it was bought out an made into this hostel. Everything is brand new and looks on par with a new development back home (other than some questionable workmanship here and there). Kitchens with stainless steal appliances, hard wood floors, nice bathrooms, it really doesn't feel like a hostel. If anyone is in the area check out Sant Jordi. They even have private rooms for very low rates.

 

Yesterday we paid a visit to the Communist Museum. If you are into recent history, as I am, it is well worth it. If you are just a casual museum goer, give it a miss. It is heavy on the reading, but I enjoyed learning about what was going on here not too long ago. It was also cool to see actual statues of Lenin and others. We came back for a planned Canada BBQ which the hostel had planned once they heard it was our national day. In the end, trying to buy a grill and all the supplies in one afternoon tuned out to be to difficult, so we are having it tonight. Going to go see more of the city this afternoon, so stay tuned,,,