Home for Christmas?
While many people are trying to ‘get home for Christmas,’ there is someone who left home at Christmas- for you and me.
The Tracks
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6_-KvT4swe8
When World
War ll broke out, my Dad was nine years old.
Two of his older brothers fought in that war, and, strange as it may
seem, my Dad was called a Nazi. Where he
grew up, one was frequently referred to by a string of previous
generations. For example, my Dad was known
as: “Gerard Mosie Mose Germain.” With
this moniker, everyone knew which family he belonged to, especially given that
many children throughout the community had the same first name.
Back to
being a Nazi. You see, some people in
the village could not pronounce “Germain,” so they called my Dad: “Gerard Mosie
Mose German,” followed by the excruciating taunt that he must be a Nazi, given
that “German” was in his name. Painful,
to say the least; deserved- of course not.
It was utterly foolish; so misguided.
Moving
ahead to the year 2021, Canadians are finally discovering the horrible truths
about what happened to the thousands of Indigenous children at our so-called “Residential
Schools.” I would not label them as
such. They were literally killing
fields, along with the indoctrinating of children so as to be entirely at odds
with their culture and language. Lest
we think: “Oh that was so long ago,” 1996 is only 25 years ago; in my lifetime
and likely in yours. As a Canadian, I am
appalled and apoplectic. Heartbroken, I
have wept. Justice must prevail. Several generations have been deeply
traumatized and we need to work hard at reconciliation and healing. So many layers of lies kept this information
hidden. But, now we know.
Just like my
Dad was certainly not a Nazi, I, as a follower of Jesus Christ, am in no wise
connected to the so-called Christians who perpetrated these awful deeds under
the guise of Christianity; their sin is not mine to carry. It would be equivalent to making the people of
Germany, today, responsible for the sins of their fathers. Representing a church, not representing
Jesus, the perpetrators of those who ran these ‘schools’ hid behind their black
robes. They were wolves in sheep’s
clothing; albeit black sheep. And the government
officials were just as guilty, seeing as they passed on the tedious-to-them: ‘ Indian problem.’
I will not, however, ‘cancel Canada’ because
of a shameful, albeit recent, past. I
will work towards justice and reconciliation.
While I am not personally responsible for the aforementioned atrocities,
I can, and do call true Christians to repentance; acknowledging that we may
have heard stories and yet did not want to believe them; acknowledging that we
may have labelled Indigenous people as lazy or incompetent-there is plenty of
guilt to spread around. I would echo God’s
words of 2 Chronicles 7:14
When I was
a child, some children in my little village called me by many names: “Nigger, Blackie,
Indian.” How I shrank at those words. They cut like a knife. My Mother would tell me: “Forgive them. They don’t understand what they are doing. And always remember that there will be people
who will need you to stand up for them.”
I am forever grateful for her tender spirit, and in my little soul I
determined that if ever I met others who were maligned, taunted and spoken of
in crude and nasty ways, that I would love them and defend them fiercely.
For all the
little souls that were taken; for all the crumpled bodies that were mercilessly
thrown into graves; for all the survivors who came home but no longer felt at
home; for all the children whose blood is crying from the ground- may God have
mercy on your families. May God bring healing. May those of us who are followers of the Lord
Jesus Christ come alongside of you, and weep with you and pledge to love you and
work for a better tomorrow.
Saving the best for last, he brought animals and then His crowning creation, humanity, into existence, on day six. In His wonderful wisdom, He rested on day seven, and no, God was not tired. He had simply finished the work of creating, with all its beauty. And He took all the time He needed.
Whether it be waiting for the subtle colours in the rising of the sun, or the incredible painting of the western sky at dusk; the blooming of a flower or the first glimps of a new-born baby; beauty is always worthy of the wait. Paint that sunset. Plant that seed. Pour your love into that sweet baby's precious life.
Be of good courage, friends. Sow kindness. Sow joy. Sow beauty. Sow the incredible, indelible gospel and fruit will come; everlasting fruit; beauty beyond measure. The Gardener, Jesus Christ, will bring you to His eternal rest; to behold His beauty. And, while we will be taken aback to see the nail prints in His hands and feet, they will be of utmost beauty to us. God's plans, from eternity past, will finally bear eternal fruit.
Platitude: "a remark or statement, especially one with a moral content, that has been used too often to be interesting or thoughtful."
Back in Nova Scotia since a few weeks, the
"Hummers" are fueling up to take care of their wee, (very wee) ones.
Watching them hover, wings a-fluttering at the speed of approximately 53 beats
per second, it's a marvelous work of God to behold. A group of Ruby-Throated
Hummingbirds is called a "Charm," and charming they are. I am
mesmerized by their beauty.
Sipping at a feeder, they do not stay for very long, only taking what they need; returning time and time again throughout the day until dusk begins to fall. Some lessons for me:
Drink in God's word.
Quench my thirst all day long, from dawn to dusk.
Apply it to my life, every single day.
