Author: James Hogan

Reclamation

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Hello friends! It’s a Sunday afternoon and I am here sitting on the porch of EQ wondering what I shall write. Is it 2022? Well perhaps not. But I do sit here now and reflect how fascinating it is looking back through the years and realizing how many hours I’ve spent in various places (like this coffeeshop!) and how I’ve changed and grown as my God has continued to work mightily in me. Sometimes I forget such and can only see the parts of me that seem to sit stagnant and still in the light of the fall. Yet it is good to sit back and reflect and look at my life as a whole and glorify my God as I realize that I am not the same man I was even a year ago! Praise be to God for his glorious grace and the many mercies he’s poured out upon me, his undeserving child! Sometimes I look at my outward circumstances and meditate on how they may or may not have changed. Same job, check. Same (close enough) living situation. Same attire (Pascal’s t-shirt, yup!) But then I look to my right and see Dani and my heart smiles and my eyes fill. Some things are not quite the same after all.

It is all too easy to let our hearts linger over those things that bring us anxiety and pain. And we cannot deny that there is sadness and suffering in this world and even in my heart, a reality that I am all too familiar with. But does the existence of such mean there is not also beauty, that perfection is necessarily impossible in this existence in which we find our minds moving? I would say not, though there are philosophical frameworks which would assert such. Instead, I would point out that the presence of an ill thing does not imply the impossibility of a good. Instead, the very fact that we recognize something as wrong means that in our frame of knowledge we seem to believe in the possibility of something being right. But what is true? That is a good question, one which it would do one good to ponder. I believe truth is not entirely relative, that though we may be shaped and formed by the environment and the historical moment in which we now exist, still yet there are solid realities that are firmer beneath our feet than we sometimes dare to think. This world is not all shadow and dust, though there is plenty of both. Instead, I look for the glimmer of that true light that I catch at the corner of my eye. I long to rest my hand upon an oaken pillar that testifies to roots deeper than these eyes can see. What is truth? That is a good question. As for me, I believe in the existence of a God who has revealed himself to us in a written word that has been passed down these many centuries. Some would call me foolish, some would call me fraud. I simply rest in that settled conviction that within me rests the spirit of God who has in actuality changed my heart and called me to be known and loved. I do believe that not that many years ago (as we count time) God himself walked upon this earth and spoke true words and then died so that I might be no longer blind but see. My eyes do not see as far as I would like at times. But no longer do I grope forward through the clammy fog of sneering unbelief. I bow my knees and look to heaven and with tears on my face I sing praises to my God who knows my name.

Ulysses

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For this past week I have been working to find the time and space to write a few words on the concert I was at last week, yet I couldn’t summon up the time and appropriate energy to do it justice. I fear I still will not be able to, yet I don’t want to wait any longer lest my memory begin to dim! I haven’t been to as many concerts this year as in years past, which I suppose makes sense as my time and appetite for such have diminished as I refocus my energies elsewhere. Sometimes this saddens me a bit, but then I consider all the concerts I’ve been to that really are not all that worth it. Well, this past Sunday? I went to a show that reminded me why I love live music and why going to the right show is 1000% worth it. Josh Garrels, hello.

I have been listening to songs by Josh Garrels for close to ten or eleven years now, I believe? Shoutout to Daniel from back in the Bethel days, for introducing me to whom I now believe is one of the greatest and most encouraging artists of our generation. Even back in 2014-2015, I remember listening to some of his songs and feeling the tears fill my eyes as I consider what it means to be a son of God and to be welcome at His table. Being loved and welcomed by God is a theme that is fairly pounded home in many of his songs but not in a way that feels forced or unwarranted by the stories woven throughout Josh Garrels’ discography. Even these past few years, though not much new songs of his have been released, the songs he has released (Anchor of my Soul & Watchman in particular!) have been received by me with much joy as they’ve aided in my ever seeking to know Christ more and press into this abundant life that we have been welcomed into. So! That all to say I was excited to see him in concert, but also not really sure what to expect. I went alone and figured it would be encouraging (partly why Dani said I needed to go, once I told her I knew it would be an encouraging night for me!). So go I did. Met a few people before the show and had some good conversation. Then I found a seat on the front row of the balcony – yes I now much appreciate a concert while sitting down, what have I become – and settled in to enjoy the show.

After a fun opening act, Josh Garrels came to the stage and quickly I discovered this wasn’t simply to be a show. Rather, it felt almost more like a church service at times. Singing and preaching abounded! The songs were poignant and beautiful and brought emotions close to surface as I considered the love that is mine in knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. He started with “At the Table” and proceeded to play most of my favourite songs. Amazing set list. He played of course the classics – Ulysses, Farther Along, etc – but also some of my newer favourites like Steadfast and Watchman!

But honestly? As much as I loved the songs and rediscovered how amazing a good live show can be, I was almost more encouraged and my heart made full by listening to Josh bare his heart and soul between songs. At times it almost seemed as if Josh Garrels spoke as a prophet, exhorting us as Christians and believers in Christ to press in to what it means to be living in the here and now in the love of God, fully understanding and aware of the height and depths and breadth of the love of God which is ours through Christ Jesus our Lord! Too often do we live as Christians in a way which almost seems to indicate that we believe all the lies this secular and faithless world attempt to persuade us are the truth. Too often do we live almost as if we don’t believe God works in this world at all. Do we actually believe that God still yet works mighty acts in this world in which we live? Do we actually believe that God came and walked upon this earth and died for us and rose again for our victory in Him, inaugurating a kingdom through his blood, a kingdom that shall know no end? Do we live in this present age understanding the power of the Spirit who lives within us, the Comforter promised and sent and resting upon our brow as holy oil anointing us as blessed ones? Do we live now walking forth each day in the triumphant and faith-filled joy that comes from being oh so aware that we are children of God? Josh Garrels talked much on such things, and on more besides and I dare say I can’t do his words justice now. But oh how wonderful it was to hear this humble man of God sing his heart out and then talk of the mercies and wonders of our Lord and point to God in whom is all our hope and joy.

I’m grateful for such a man whom God has blessed and given such creative talent. Still more? I’m grateful to hear the testimony of a man who knows that he’s washed and saved by the blood of Christ and ever dependent on Him every day for this life he lives. I’m grateful to be a part of the body of Christ and know that there are thousands of brothers and sisters who praise the God in whom I trust and that we all someday will be worshipping together before the throne. And even I walk and sing, recognizing that each day upon this earth is a day my God has given me. I thank God for the days he gives me now to serve his name and be faithful and wait for the upward call. I thank my Father for the knowledge that he has through His Spirit given me, that in my Jesus is my all in all. I long to see my Saviour’s face.

Oh Canada!

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A few thoughts on a few books this lovely November evening.

70. The Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis. Oh what do I say about this one! Parts of this book thrilled my soul and enlivened my heart to beat heavenward as I considered the love of Christ and all that is mine in Him. Yet still there were parts of this book that irked me. All in all, I am certainly glad I read this one. It is a classic devotional work for a reason and I’ve had it on my shelf unfinished for a good while now. So finally I took it down and began reading, a few pages every morning during my devotions time. I think this served it well, as an aid and stimulus to my meditating on the things of Christ and what it means to be a child of God. There were so many encouraging lines and passages and moments where my heart leaped as I pressed in on what it is to know Christ more. Particularly Book 2 was fantastic, by far the stand-out section of this book. What I loved the most about this book was the focus it demands we place on our honor and devotion to God and what it means to sacrifice all to Him, placing Him before us and humbling ourselves before Him. It’s a well needed counter to the ethos of the day, in which we tend to place ourselves before all else and consider our needs of greater importance. This book simply breathes humility and it does my heart good to meditate on what it means to be truly humble before God and man. I did also mention parts of this book that annoyed me, and I suppose that comes with the territory of reading the work of a 15th-century monastic. There are doctrinal quibbles I have (such as with most of Book 4 covering Communion & the Eucharist, where I have some profound disagreements with the Roman understanding of the aforesaid sacrament) as well as some annoyances at the stylistic tendences in Book 3 (particularly as regards the “dialogue” between the Learner and the Beloved (Christ). I tend to tread carefully when I see words put in the mouth of Christ (even if I’m not always consistent on such), and it bothered me a bit to see so much of that here). There are other Roman doctrines which are seen here and there that I found myself shaking my head at, but I will not go any further to detail them here. Still yet? This book was encouraging to me and did indeed stimulate my heart to consider more what it means to devote one to the Lord and to follow Him all of our days. I would urge discernment if one reads it, understanding that not every word in this book may be necessarily true (as is a helpful reminder when reading any book by human author). But I’m grateful to read a book that puts us in our proper place and gives God the glory and honour that is his due! I’m grateful to read a book that encourages us in humility and Christian service. I’m grateful to read a book that makes me think more about Christ and who He is and what He has done for me.

71. Rilla of Ingleside by L.M. Montgomery. A profoundly emotional book. One that fairly gushes with the pathos that still throbbed in the author’s heart only a bare few years after the Great War had ended, this book makes it seem as the author is still processing such, using this book to heal and understand. There is much in this book that to us now may seem slightly jingoistic or overly sentimental in nature, yet I’d argue it gives us a peek into the past, a window into what the people of the day thought about this great war that still shocks us to this day with the horrors it contained. All in all, I loved reading this one. That may surprise you, as it is a sad work. Yet? This book deals with these sad themes of separation and death and loss with the gravity that is appropriate yet also shows how the characters deal with such and move forwards while still remembering what lay behind. Montgomery does not take this subject and deal tritely with it and attempt to make light of this war. If anything she almost goes too far the other way in attempting to describe this war as the pivot point of human existence! But can she be blamed? I think not. I won’t talk more about this book other than to say it’s well worth the read, one of the best books in the Anne series (not the best, can’t say that about a book where Anne isn’t front and center!). Rilla is no Anne, but she’s still pretty great.

Steadfast

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I stand tonight and look over the tossing sea. I wish I had more reason to feel as melancholy as I do. Alas my heart speaks to me in a language that I once knew but now can only speak in broken rhyme. I could attempt to analyse myself as a specimen, like a butterfly you see pinned to the page. But no, I’m more complex than that, surely? Or perhaps I am that simple and my eyes are simply blinded with the film that washes over them of sudden now as I recall my once grand dreams. I shiver and pull my jacket closer to myself as the first few drops of rain begin to fall. What is it that I wish for now? I hesitate to speak aloud what has been swirling in my heart. Instead, I breathe deep. I close my eyes and as I hear the ever changing symphony of the sea I run my thoughts over the promises that I cling to. Oh thank God that I do not put my hope in mine own fickle heart! If my own emotions were the basis of the confidence in which I wake and stride forth each morn, I would be a sad thing. I breathe deep again. It is good that my roots go deeper than the mountains that lie at the heart of the sea over which I look. Now out loud I do speak a few words, a litany, a pleading, a prayer to the God who sees. Look at the stars that peek through the clouds! Look at the moon light that plays over the singing sea! No less does my heart churn yet somehow now at a slower pace as I consider all that hath been wrought for me.

Reminders of the Autumn

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A bare few thoughts on books this dreary Thursday evening.

68. Rainbow Valley by L.M. Montgomery. This book was far more beautiful and enjoyable to read than I was expecting! Not sure why my memory seemed to think this book was lacking, but it’s not. It’s a wonderful, delightful little book. Of course though, now that I think about it, it is lacking something. Namely, Anne. Anne is barely in this book, but for some reason I didn’t mind it overly much. Instead, this book is all about the children but really more than that, all about the Merediths. The Blythe children have had their book, this book it’s time for the Merediths (and one Mary Vance) to shine. I loved meeting all the new children and reading about the shenanigans in the parsonage and of course the ultimate romance between two who had thought romance was only in their past. And yes, this book has shades of sorrow as well, as it looks to the future when these children will grow up and partake of and witness one of the worst wars known to man. You can feel the sadness as Montgomery writes with this war fresh in her memory. But that’s for next book! This one, by and large, is cheerful and ridiculous and a fun romp of a book.

69. Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. This book was simultaneously fascinating and frustrating. Fascinating because it is written of a time and culture I know so little of and hence I much enjoyed reading of the clan and village life in West Africa (Nigeria) of a long ago (19th-century, really not that long ago after all!) time. Frustrating because the story itself felt a bit disjointed, jumpy and sparse and I struggled to stay engaged with the characters. That may perhaps be my own fault, but I simply didn’t think the writing in this one was that good. At times it felt like reading a textbook, even. Still yet. There is value in this book, simply because it reveals and sheds light on a period and place that I knew little of before. I was intrigued to know how I’d find this book because I distinctly remember reading this book back in English class oh so long ago (freshman year of high school!) and I wondered if I’d remember anything from it. Honestly…very little remained in my brain. But I did remember one thing. I remember thinking Obierika is simply the man, and I found that belief reinforced. Love that guy. Apart from that? There’s some fascinating characters – I especially found myself wishing we had more time with Ezinma, who pretty much disappears by the latter part of the book. And there are some deeper themes here, especially as they relate to the effects of imperialistic colonialism and the influence of outsider religion and its interplay with culture and family. In many ways, reading this book reminded me of reading 1984. Some really rich themes and heavy reminders of the brutality of man, yet presented in a poorly-wrapped, overly didactic package. Still – is there value in this book? I believe so. One more thing before I close. The last line? Absolutely brutal and perfect all at the same time. I can’t imagine a better one.

In Between Spaces

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Life is so unyielding she sighs mournfully. I wish I had a response to that or that anything I said or did could give her comfort in this moment when she feels so sad. Yet there is nothing of substance I can offer so I give her all I have. I gently rub her shoulders and stay silent. The chirping of the birds off the path sounds louder in the absence of any spoken word and I am grateful for that. Slowly as the tears roll down her face and our breaths sync, my hands come to a rest and in silent communion we watch and wait. The clouds above us hold in silent witness and even the birdsong seems to sound in harmony with the sniffling that she makes. Sometimes there are no words sufficient to answer the pain within. At long last there is motion and the clouds move on, seeming to indicate that their watch is done. The evening sun glimmers over the tree line and I put my hand to my eyes to shield the light and I am for some reason surprised to find out that I too have the remnants of tears on my face. I feel under my hands the tension is gone. Something has broken, something that needed to break. I walk around the bench and sit beside her, wondering what comes now. As she leans her head upon my shoulder and lets loose a sigh that contains a thousand lines, I somehow feel better now. Nothing has changed but our posture. We must soon get up and walk down the path and face another day. My arm tightens around her as I feel her shiver in the evening’s cold. And she whispers in the twilight I am glad to be with you in this place.

Beyond the Point

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At times it is tempting to slip into the same habits that you fit into so well yesterday and exclaim as you look in the mirror – it’s a new me! When it is of course true that in fact you are wearing something that is quite well used and perhaps even adorned with a new stain or two. Such it is when we get a bit too comfortable with patterns in our life that are not quite advantageous for the life that we so eagerly proclaim we wish for. But this is normal. Most of us have our blind spots and most of us have those hidden reefs that cause peril when we are not carefully navigating by those precious charts we should be more closely paying attention to. Is that not why we ought live with others who can see us as we are and point out those moments when we slip and stumble and laughing through our tears exclaim that we’re all right and say no perhaps not. Perhaps you’re not alright. And that’s alright. Or it’s not, but yet it is, for we walk not alone. Instead we walk through these valleys together looking to the west towards setting sun and though eagerly we look for the next way stop, we still sigh a bit knowing it’s not home.

And so if you have muddled through these mixed metaphors and deciphered anything of use therein, then I am grateful. But really I just want to speak plainly now and state how good it is that we need not live this life in solitary fashion. Of course it’s fashionable to proclaim oneself as self sufficient and capable and independent in all things. But alone we tend to wither and finally crack under the pressure of the burdens of this life. We need each other for we were not designed to live a life in which there was no communion with any other soul. We need a helper or a friend. We need someone with whom we can steadily share eye contact and it not be weird. We need someone to lift us up from life’s muddles when we veer a bit off track. And yet.

This need for a person beyond our own self existence points to a deeper truth that within us speaks to a void that cries out to be filled. What can fill this seemingly infinite hollow that nothing on this earth can fill? There goes that classic question which of course you know the answer to. If nothing on this earth can satisfy that longing in our soul it must mean we need look elsewhere beyond the setting sun. Even your closest companion or partner is not sufficient to satisfy that existential longing, is that not true? Eternity beckons. My heart aches with the knowledge that I was made for more than this finite life. All the history and poetry and philosophy I read testify in a thousand voices that in myself I’m missing something and there is nothing in the created order that can make me whole. Yet there is a voice calling, calling me to come. I know that voice. Do you hear it too?

Seven

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There are mornings that my very soul could sing for delight. This is one such. I am oh so grateful for small pleasures that my God has granted me. This morning, a leisurely lie-in and I didn’t have to leave my bed until after the sun peeked over the horizon and through our window shades. Oh bliss! Following that, a nice hot shower while the water boils in preparation for one of the most important ingredients for a good morning. Coffee. Of course it’s coffee. I was then able to meditatively take part in one of my favourite little rituals and make my aeropress coffee. As I waited for the coffee, a few minutes on the phone with Dad and then I prepared for the remainder of my morning before church time. TV on! But not for what you think – no TV programming or shows. Merely…switch on the youtube and find a suitable musical accompaniment for the day. Hilary Hahn playing Tchaikovsky? Yes please. Let me turn the lamp on next to my armchair and settle in with my Bible and books at hand. A while later, much had been read and much music enjoyed and the strong hot coffee enlivened my body while the readings that I had been walking through did their part in enlivening my soul. Surely I rejoice in the ministries of the Spirit this day. Perhaps I have talked too much of vain things at times. Even now, I name all these little pleasures and routines that are mine with perhaps too much joy. But are these simple things not still beautiful? I say so. And now it is time to go and worship with the people of the Lord. My brother and my sister, come with me. It is good for us to be here and rejoice in the lovingkindess of our Lord.