AuthorParker Johnson Admittedly, as I drove out into the foothills to view the solar eclipse today it became evident that I had not done my homework. While en route, I asked, “Eclipses don’t last that long, right? Like what…half an hour, maybe?” Jahnelle laughed and said, “Two and a half hours from start to finish…beginning at 10:20 a.m.” “Oh,” I said. “That’s substantial.” Rewind to last night when I asked what time at night the eclipse started. Obviously, science and space are not my forte, but more importantly, today's eclipse was a reminder that I am not always able to see things in their entirety through my own eyes. 9:45 a.m. We positioned our lawn chairs facing opposite the sun on the bank of the Elbow River in Kananaskis Provincial Park, complete with a 20-pack of assorted Tim Bits, coffee, and water…and we waited. We were early, but prepared. Jahnelle put together two pinhole cameras for us the night before, and we were eager to test them out. Likely operator error, they didn’t end up helping much at all. While we waited for whatever was about to happen, we talked about just how big it was going to be. We both expected that the local news, by stating 80% coverage, meant 80% darkness, and, while absolutely oblivious to any science or space-related information, we most certainly knew not to look directly at the sun, because that would clearly result in a SciFi-inspired zombie experience resulting in 100% blindness and lots of blood. We figured we knew enough. 10:45 a.m. As we waited, we skipped rocks, sang some hymns and campfire songs, and commented on how clear the water in the river was. We used Snapchat to try to look at the sun over our shoulders, but ultimately grumbling each time because the sun still looked like a perfect circle. Couples and young families, complete with their dogs, began showing up and setting up viewing areas near the same bend in the river. Facing away from the sun with faulty pinhole cameras…we really had no clue what was happening behind us, but we were certainly not going to look. Time ticked by, and the colour of the light surrounding us was noticeably different. It wasn’t quite sepia tone, but I’d equate it to maybe buying a cheap pair of blue sunglasses at WalMart. We noticed that much. We continued to skip rocks and began commenting on just how chilly it was getting. Jahnelle put on another jacket, and I started jumping up and down to warm up. “Weird,” we said. “Didn’t think about how the sun being blocked out might impact the air temperature.” Aside from the blue sunglasses filter and the cooler temperatures, I really wasn’t impressed. 11:30 a.m. (remember…the eclipse has now reached 80%) A man’s dog approached us – Abby was her name…a standard poodle – and while we pet her, I safely stored the Tim Bits out of reach. Busily tending to Abby, the owner handed Jahnelle a pair of eclipse glasses and said that he’d noticed we were without. We thanked him and asked, “Can you see anything yet?” (idiotic, I know) “Oh, yes!” he replied, as if to insinuate that he knew something we didn’t. And he did. We put the glasses on and saw a sliver of the sun…blotted out (apparently 80%) by the moon. It was happening, and we weren’t even aware! But seeing it through the filter gave us a new lens to see the event, and it changed everything. The moon…the sun…they were nearly in sync with one another millions of miles away…and I could feel it. The goosebumps I’d been complaining about were my body telling me that the sun was no longer sending all of its powerful rays hurdling towards the Earth. The blue sunglasses filter was my eyes telling me that the majority of the sun’s light was being blocked by a large mass orbiting Earth. HOW IN THE WORLD COULD I HAVE BEEN DISAPPOINTED?! We stared in awe (with the filter obviously) and carefully took photos of what we could see, and then packed the car up and headed back into the city. As I reflect on what happened this morning, I am reminded of the Chris Rice song, “Hallelujah.” My aunt used to sing this song sometimes on Sunday at church, and it always gave me goosebumps. Its words are filled with detailed imagery that I can’t quite get out of my head…just like the connection I finally made when I saw the eclipse through the viewing glasses. I hope I can hold the image of the sun and moon in my mind for years to come as I continue to seek perspective and understanding in our world. Chris Rice - "Hallelujahs" (lyrics)
A purple sky to close the day I wade the surf where dolphins play The taste of salt, the dance of waves And my soul wells up with hallelujahs A lightning flash, my pounding heart A breaching whale, a shooting star Give testimony that You are And my soul wells up with hallelujahs Oh praise Him all His mighty works There is no language where you can't be heard Your song goes out to all the earth Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah! O cratered moon and sparrows wings O thunder's boom and Saturn's rings Unveil our Father as you sing And my soul wells up with hallelujahs Oh praise Him all His mighty works There is no language where you can't be heard Your song goes out to all the earth Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah! The pulse of life within my wrist A fallen snow, a rising mist There is no higher praise than this And my soul wells up O my soul wells up Yes my soul wells up with hallelujahs Oh praise Him all His mighty works There is no language where you can't be heard Your song goes out to all the earth Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah! O hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah!
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AuthorAymie Neudorf Matthew 13: 1-9 (NRSV) That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables, saying: “Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!” After watching a video (below) about the similarities in gardening and one’s life, the scripture above resonated with us all. In order to have a holistic life you need to tend to the many needs in one’s life. The same as when you plant a garden. Our soil needs to be open to awakening the life within the seed. We are the soil that needs to be open and receptive to new life in our midst. Like with a harvest, you have to till the soil. You have to cultivate the soil. You have to turn it over, you have to grab the dirt clobs and break them apart. You have to remove root systems and old weeds that threaten to choke out life. You have to be willing to disrupt the soil so that new life might emerge. This is the same in congregational life. We have to be willing to disrupt the soil. Encounters with God and the Holy Spirit can cause disruption. It can be uncomfortable. It can be chaotic, but it can also be transforming.
Learning about the different seeds that you have to plant and what complexities each one has is such a vital part of growth. Where can we plant it so that it might thrive most fully? In this act we abandon the mentality that one size fits all. Are we paying attention to both soil and seed? We must relinquish control and trust. That in the darkness life is forming. Are we willing to wait and trust in what is unseen? When we tend to our soil it can be a hard and daily task to ensure that life is becoming. This is a practice that never ends, day in and day out to constantly ensure life is thriving. Are we paying attention to what is still needed for growth and are we willing to put in the effort to sustain what is coming alive in front of us? When it comes time to harvest, we then get to enjoy that life. That life we have planted and tended to. It is a time to celebrate, a time to rejoice. In the end, our final step is rest. Rest is when we renew the soil. We let the nutrients back so that life may be sustained again. We need Sabbath in our spiritual lives. That time with God allows us to feel refreshed. In each of our lives we have found that we become robotic to our daily tasks, we fall into the wash, rinse, and repeat cycle. But coming to Hills of Peace is the rest we look for, that feeling of being whole as an individual and as a community. We renew those past relationships so that we can thrive in our communities at home. We have laughed, cried, and found strength in each other. We know that we have learnt more about each other and ourselves, and in the end we carry this part of the mission statement with us: “God, Grant us the courage to risk somethings new.” |
AuthorsCalgary Spark is a collection of stories told by members and friends of the church alike. Each person's story is helping to shape our community in new ways. Archives
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