Church Soup

Faith, Personal

As I begin to wrap up my time at my job, I was asked to write something for our quarterly publication. The inspiration/topic would’ve been how the dissension within our conference has affected youth and young adults. It was a difficult topic, and when I sat down to write it (having put it off longer than I wanted to) I felt a weight settle on my chest, on my hands, on my shoulders.

I didn’t write on that topic for a few specific reasons. Firstly, I don’t think I can speak for a majority of young adults, let alone represent their opinions in a published source. My style is honest because I think that’s what makes writing good, and all I can be sure of is how the dissension has affected me. Secondly, talking about how difficult it’s been for me is depressing, and not something I would personally want to read, either.

Instead, I came up with “Church Soup”.


I know we have our borscht and our barley and our chicken noodle soups, but let me introduce you to church soup – a steamy hot pot of goodness.

Church soup is as you would expect, made up of you and me and a lot in between, as well as the people we never expect. It’s made up of our churches and our care groups and our community events and our missions and our outreach. It’s made up of our turmoil, our frustrations, as well as our apathy. What a mix!

If you have ever made a soup, then you know that it is never made of one ingredient (usually). More often than not they have 3 or more. Let’s think of those first 3 ingredients as the Father, the Son, and the Spirit. Great! Now add us, our programs, our hopes and our worries. Add our fears and (let’s be honest) our bitterness. Okay, now we’re cookin’!

Right now, we have our soup and it is a little bit of a hot mess. We’ve been cooking in the kitchen for a long time now and we’re no longer sure we really want this soup anymore. What happened to it? Maybe some of us tried to make this soup a bit too sweet, and we forgot to keep in mind that we had star anise in the pantry to balance it out. Maybe some of us have tried to make soup, but all we’ve been putting in it was our star anise. Maybe we’re upset because we think someone made us soup but didn’t ask us what we wanted in it.

But remember that we’re all in this soup and we all have something to flavour it with. What are you flavouring our soup with? Does your soup have a strong core group within the church, but is lacking in community outreach? Or does your soup have a lot of visitors, but no one to lead your programs? Maybe your bible study groups are well attended, but overall church cohesion is missing. Maybe your church keeps making soup, but needs soup, too?

For myself, I’m tired and I really need soup. I think a lot of us do. Right now I could use a big bowl of chicken noodle soup because it feels like all that I’ve been having for the last year is a bowl of spicy, burn-the-roof-of-your-mouth-hot broth. Not very sustainable. However, I’ve been reminded of what soup tastes like when we have balance.

When we make soup for others we are really making soup for God, and that soup tastes the best – I promise. When others look at us and all of our ingredients, they’re not going to ask what the fifth or the tenth or the thirtieth ingredient is because what kind of soup it is will be obvious. Instead, they’ll ask, “who is the soup for?” I think Jesus would’ve answered, “For those who need it.” I hope we, too, are all making soup for those who need it.

She’s So Heavy

Faith

That she? Yeah, that’s me.

Things have been uncommonly heavy for several months now – real heart heavy. Sometimes it’s felt like I’ve been standing on a street corner asking passers-by, “where am I right now and how do I get out of here?” How did I get in the middle of all of this malice? Also, how did I not see it coming?

Many times I’ve thought that believing the best intentions of others was wise – that it made me courageous or brave to do something so naive. Even though I know that the people we love sometimes purposefully hurt our feelings, I never wanted that knowledge to stop me from believing that next time they wouldn’t. But I’ve been let down, and this time it was church that’s let me down.

I’ve been stuck at a crossroad between two parties – my church standing on one street, and my job standing on the other. I love my church and I love the work I do for my job, but the climate in which both meet has become severe, with deep hurts flitting through the shadows of our little neighbourhood. And it’s in the shadows those hurts have tended to stay in. See, my church’s leadership team (for reasons only known to them) has defaulted to keeping their voices to themselves, rather than try to reconcile their discontent with the conference. They have almost gang-like teamed with another church, who has become their voice for them – become their leader. In a time when I was hoping to hear the love of Jesus’ sacrifice, I heard for weeks on end that our relationship with God will always be broken without obedience or submission. Talk about exhausting.

And hey, I’m not opposed to a good submission or obedience driven sermon like the next person, but it really tends to wear you out, you know?

As the people close to me have probably figured out, I prefer to try and talk things out. It’s been a tough journey to get to this place, but I’m proud of my ability to embarrassingly and emotionally approach hard situations. It’s scary to be vulnerable, but important. It opens yourself up to being wrong, but it also opens yourself up to potentially awesome reconciliation. However, sometimes it gets thrown in your face because all the other person wants to focus on is being right.

I mean, Jesus wasn’t opposed to telling it like it is, but part of telling it like it is meant teaching the importance of doing for the least. What we do for the least we do for God (Matthew 25:34:40), and that sounds a lot different from throwing around the word “heretic” in our conference. I think, at times, we all forgot that no matter how hard we may try, it’s never been our job to save anyone. That’s Jesus’ job. And while we know we’re supposed to walk through the narrow gate (Matthew 7:13:14), whatever that is, we can’t strangle anyone else into following us. That wouldn’t be genuine faith. So, instead, let’s remind ourselves what really got us to a genuine place in our faith journeys – at least, what got me there.

I didn’t start this love story with Jesus because I was afraid that I was going through the wide gate. See, that just doesn’t translate for my personality. Instead, I let God’s love wash over me because it whispered that I was worthy of such a sacrifice, that I am deeply and incomprehensibly loved.

So, it’s this truth I hold against my chest when I remember how personal it felt to read someone call my work family false leaders or teachers and heretics, because a large part of me knows that if those accusers knew me better, they’d know I’m the false teacher and heretic. I know I’m not.

I know I’m not.

I think I’m not?

But that’s the point – I don’t know everything. And neither do they.

This conference has been slipping through our fingers because we don’t trust each other anymore, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about that because the more I think about it and the more I talk about it, I begin to feel my brain will itself to just stop caring. I know people close to me have. I’m sure they’re tired of me bringing it up. Maybe I really do just need to stop caring?

Nope. That’s not it.

Vying with Each Other

Faith, Personal

This previous Wednesday, I and a group of my friends had the privilege to attend a World Religions Conference hosted by a local Christian University. There, I was inspired by the joint effort to be in relationship with each other, but also saddened by the realization of how far away I and others have drifted away from Jesus’ promise of mercy for others.

The event featured presentations from the Baha’i, Christian, Hindu, Islam, Jewish, Muslim, and Sikh perspectives, as well as a keynote speaker discussing the topic of joint charity efforts. As I’d listened to each, the overlapping messages became abundant.

Many of these religions share the notion of taking care of God’s creation, and honouring the Father – ours and everyone’s Father. I heard a cry of love in prayerful songs, greeting me before some presenters shared their faith story. Many of the religions shared the value of healthy competition, vying with each other – a verse from the Quran. I heard over and over the joy of seeing your friend (or acquaintance) raising funds or volunteering in the name of caring for the world that was gifted to them. I heard them say how empowering it is for them to see, and to then try to do better – competing in goodness instead of selfishness.

Works is complicated in the Christian faith because of how twisted things have gotten in the past. However, my understanding is that we do good works to honour God with our life, and to not acquire salvation. It’s great. But the honouring God part sometimes gets forgotten by me. Maybe a lot these days.

Something that is missing in Christianity, but present in other religions (especially the Hindu perspective) was openness to other faiths. The Golden temple located in Amritsar, Punjab, India is the most important pilgrimage site for Sikhs. This building has open doors on each wall, facing each direction. These doors represent the openness to others’ faiths. The Hindu speaker shared his joy of others finding God in their religion, rather than viewing his religion as the only way to be in relationship with God. The Baha’i speaker spoke of how each religion acts as a window, as a chapter in the story of God’s greatness, giving us different glimpses of His character.

I sat in a room of people who, despite their religious differences, chose to be in relationship with each other for the sake of honouring God’s earth or His character, and I wondered why I couldn’t be in my church anymore. Why I can’t be at my job anymore. And I realized:

At the heart of this world religions gathering, people were focussed on how they could agree, and were honest and gentle with their differences – not hiding them, but not speaking down, either. They didn’t use their differences to attack the rights or wrongs of the other religions, they just knew that on this, working to care for the world, they could agree.

I know that in my church and The Church it’s always going to be a lot different. Sometimes we’re good at accepting our differences and working things out. However, we often choose to solely work for the Christians of the world, instead of God’s children – all of His children. On the flip side, Christians have also torn each other down. This has been especially hard for me, and has made me wonder at times that if this is how Christians treat themselves, how are they really treating the people who don’t know Jesus? And if this is how Christians want to treat people who don’t know Jesus, then what’s the point in being a Christian?

I’ve heard Christians shame and slur other Christians “in the name of love” – using the accusation of disobedience to beat down one’s spirit, using God’s sovereignty to compel Christians into a corner. For me, I’ve come to a place where I’m embarrassed of Christians – not Jesus.

So, where do I go now and what do I do?

My heart is heavy. It’s felt pulled and stretched to the point where it can’t snap back into shape. It’s just too tired.

And yet, I believe in a world where people are doing the best they can. Sometimes they fail. Sometimes they don’t. I don’t think I’ll ever convince someone to follow Jesus, fullstop. But if I did, it wouldn’t be because I told them the only way to heaven was to believe in Jesus, even if I think it’s true. It would probably be because of my attempt to embody Jesus, and that’s the best I can do, fullstop.

Climbing

My name is Sarah Symons, but does the world really need another blog? What will be on this blog? Why should anyone at all care? Maybe you shouldn’t. This blog will be a creative outlet for myself and a way to make mistakes on a personal online platform so that I don’t make bigger mistakes…

Judgement (& Love)

There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it the most. | (Hebrews 4:16 NLT) There is a veil you and I can conceal ourselves behind and it’s called quietude. I pretend I have no interest in the arguments and disputes, the sarcastic words and ignorant…

Being A Lover

It was the Canadian Thanksgiving this past weekend, and I felt that, for the first time, I was fully aware of how thankful I ought to be. I am thankful for so many things in my life that make it easy and tidy and comfortable. I listed off what I was thankful for with my…

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Christmas! The most wonderful time of the year! To me, but maybe not to everyone. I remember loving Christmas from the first moment I realized it was Christmas. I loved it for the same reason why I loved it when the power would go out; it was a time of un-distracted togetherness, crackling fires, and…

Growing Up Pt 1

I’m trying to figure out what it means to be mature because it occurred to me that I am actually really afraid of being seen as immature. Like, I’d somehow duped myself into thinking I’m something I’m not, like everyone knows something I don’t.

Vying with Each Other

This previous Wednesday, I and a group of my friends had the privilege to attend a World Religions Conference hosted by a local Christian University. There, I was inspired by the joint effort to be in relationship with each other, but also saddened by the realization of how far away I and others have drifted…

She’s So Heavy

That she? Yeah, that’s me. Things have been uncommonly heavy for several months now – real heart heavy. Sometimes it’s felt like I’ve been standing on a street corner asking passers-by, “where am I right now and how do I get out of here?” How did I get in the middle of all of this malice?…

Is Anyone There?

Have you ever looked at the night sky and gotten so lost in it – in its twinkling and whispy blackness – that you felt less like a person and more like you’re just existing in this vastness? The longer you look you wonder how there can ever be anything that could matter in a…

Church Soup

I know we have our borscht and our barley and our chicken noodle soups, but let me introduce you to church soup – a steamy hot pot of goodness.

Hope Through Failure

Bob Goff, author of Love Does once wrote, “the thing I love about God is he intentionally guides people into failure.” Mr Goff, I think I am finally starting to understand what you mean. Yesterday, I felt a new hope flutter in my chest, a hope that has been missing for some time now. As…

Photography – Pets

Recently, my husband and I have purchased a camera and I’ve been trying my hand at learning how to work with it. The following pictures are of the pets in my life because they make such good models.

Photography – E 4th Ave

It was a pretty miserable day, but the kind of day that made me want to get up and get moving after stewing in my chair all day. I took these photos during my short walk.

I played a lot with the different settings of the camera, but wasn’t very happy with what I left myself with. I’m not too bothered, though, since it’s all a work in progress.

Photography – Texture

As I have continued to explore and flesh out what I enjoy in photography, I have enjoyed trying new styles, and these are a few of my recent favourites. I wanted to do a black and white series to focus on texture and lighting, contrast and depth, but I also enjoyed feeling like I was seeing more of the picture thanks to its desaturation.

Small Eyes

Let’s have a chat about having small eyes in a big, doe eyed world. Now, it’s no secret that I am asian – half to be specific, and Malaysian if you need to know what kind – and something very particular comes with that territory.

small. eyes.

Cha Cha Changes

First of all, do yourself a favour and listen to this version of Changes by David Bowie and Butterfly Boucher from the Shrek 2 Soundtrack. Yeah, go back in time. My heart is filled today – with satisfaction, people fatigue, excitement and hope. Today, I completed my orientation at my new job, a new job…

Is There Room?

Jumping on the sky-train or the bus at 5pm has given me very little to look forward to.  I’ve ended up bumping into strangers, getting a little too close for comfort, receiving the evil eye from others if I’ve been lucky enough to get a seat, or staring at my phone and wishing I was home.  However, before even jumping on I’ve had to wonder “is there room for me?”

Grateful

A new season is near, the air is cooling, the rain is falling. Students are back in school and the year ahead is being planned; it’s time to look forward. But my previous and current worries don’t fizzle out at the first sign of a turning leaf, nor do any of us get a breather to compensate for all of the time that worry has stolen from us.

The Journey – Part 1

As a child I didn’t have a poor body image of myself. But as I grew older and experienced different stages in my life, this self image transformed into something of a beast – a bully, a nemesis.

Connect

The older I get the more challenging connecting with the ones I care about and love becomes. I spend more time with strangers and coworkers than I do my best friend and partner. My heart begins to ache for the place it feels most at home – with family and friends. Every week I attend…

xoxoxoxoxo Grandma & Grandpa

“xoxoxoxoxo Grandma & Grandpa” That’s how every birthday card I have ever got from my grandparent ends. It’s a sweet and loving familiarity I got to look forward to each celebration, reminding me of all the support I’ve been fortunate enough to have through my lifetime. However, this year’s was the first card his name…

Grandma’s Caesar Dressing

I definitely don’t run a food blog, but I have yet to taste a caesar dressing as good as the one my grandma makes, and I need it to be online so I can share it to my recipe Pinterest board, so here is the recipe. Grandma’s Caesar Dressing By Edna Ruck – Grandma –…

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Faith, Personal

Christmas! The most wonderful time of the year! To me, but maybe not to everyone.

I remember loving Christmas from the first moment I realized it was Christmas. I loved it for the same reason why I loved it when the power would go out; it was a time of un-distracted togetherness, crackling fires, and imagination. I would lay in front of our fireplace on a pillow and in my jammies, gazing into the flickering flames for hours. It was truly the best time of the year.

However, it definitely wasn’t perfect (and I doubt that anyone’s is). I felt the classic Christmas day stress even if I wasn’t responsible for anything on the big day. Additionally, we were poor. Despite the efforts of my breadwinning mom, my dad was indulgent and managed money poorly. And though my parents always tried, managing their deteriorating marriage added to the stress on Christmas day. However, it always came together, even if it meant my brother and I stayed in our bedroom on Christmas morning with our pup as our mom wrapped presents in the kitchen. You could say that’s when the original magic disappeared, I suppose.

That was our last Christmas with both of our parents, and I could tell that my grandparents worked and worked and worked to make the next Christmas as fulfilling as possible. I wish they knew at the time that presents weren’t what made it great. As two seniors embracing their new future of second-parenthood, there wasn’t a lot of money to begin with. Add hosting the Christmas dinner and likely still morning the loss of their daughter-in-law, and the spiritual loss of their son, it probably was a huge downer for them. However, being together with my cousins, for the first time in a long time, on Christmas day was magical, and probably better than any gift I got that year.

I remember the worst Christmas. That year, my (very musical) brother got one present – a guitar, while I got several small presents. He probably won’t thank me for the reminder if he ever reads this. Anyways, he sulked because he’d actually wanted a netbook that year. Don’t worry, though, because he’s matured a lot since then. But at the time, he sulked in his room for most of Christmas day. I remember wishing that my grandparents hadn’t gotten me anything and had put that money toward getting him the computer. The depressing fog that hung over that day wasn’t worth all of the presents I’d got.

But that Christmas was still great because I still got to be with my family. In later years, my dad was with us on Christmas day, and while that was stressful in its own way, it was nice for us to be together, even if we were this broken and, frankly, kind of messed up family. I’d stopped feeling like a joyful kid on Christmas morning since the magic had gone away, but it didn’t mean that it still wasn’t a very precious day to me.

Fast forward to this year – I’m joyfully and incandescently happy. I’m married to my bestfriend, I seem to have finally righted my relationship with my grandma again (distance makes the heart grow fonder?? Even if it’s only about three blocks), and my husband and I always know that we have a family that will want our presence on Christmas day.

I grew up with trips to the Food Bank, and I am reminded at this time of the year more than ever that there are still so many families struggling to keep up with the seasonal pressures of having the perfect dinner and family and presents like my family did (and it some ways, still does). It’s hard to feel like you’re normal when everything we see on TV and hear on the radio is about how AWESOME your Christmas shopping has gone, and how AWESOME your dinner is going to be, and how your family just loves each other so much and no one has any problems with each other and it’s just so AWESOME! But trust me, that is not normal. You are.

Messed up you.

Broken you.

“Unfulfilled potential” you.

That’s why Jesus was born – for you and all the selves you don’t want to be on Christmas day. So, on the random day of the year that We decided Jesus could’ve been born, please remember that he was born for you and all your imperfection. That’s what’s really worth celebrating.

Being a Lover

Faith, Personal

It was the Canadian Thanksgiving this past weekend, and I felt that, for the first time, I was fully aware of how thankful I ought to be. I am thankful for so many things in my life that make it easy and tidy and comfortable. I listed off what I was thankful for with my love, Dylan; the list started with Jesus, but was soon followed by my marriage, my home, my health, and dishwashers. I can fill this list with as many items as the earth has blades of grass, but it dawned on me: being thankful is wonderful, but is it enough?

I will be honest and admit that I struggle with reading the bible – I don’t necessarily feel guilty about this because I presume that most do – so I’ve been pleased by the fact that I’ve been reading scripture everyday thanks to an app. Recently, I’ve focused on ecumenical unity, which has highlighted the saving grace of Christ & God’s hope and love for all nations and all peoples. It also highlights the importance of thankfulness, not just in terms of grace, but to observe others with the same boundless love God has for all. The thankfulness we can have for others unbinds us from our denominations, our politics, and our genders, propelling us into a state where you are not just thankful for others, but do for them, too.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying that the more you do for others makes you a bigger lover of Jesus or any God(s) you subscribe to. What I am saying is that, as Christians, I’ve heard a lot of talk about praising God in the high and the low, but less about how important thankfulness is as a pillar to faith. Well, maybe you have & I just haven’t.

I’ll focus on myself for the next bit: thankfulness needs to be more than just thankfulness to me. True thankfulness looks like more than just thanking/praising/singing. I know that, now, but I haven’t always. It’s been hard for me to be thankful in the past due to life circumstances or my own hardheadedness to try to do everything for myself, or my own ignorance. I was limited by my hard heart, but also by my anxiety. Sometimes I was crippled by embarrassment because I was so moved by someone else’s gesture. But none of that is the point, anymore; what is old is old, and what is new is new.

My love language hasn’t been acts of service, but has taken on that quality after getting married. Now, my thankfulness looks like doing, and that’s really weird for me. Though it’s weird, I’m embracing it – the doing- because I want to. I want people to see me and see that Jesus didn’t just talk about loving, but inspires my heart to be a lover. Being a lover means doing something with my thankfulness and serving others, and I had a chance to do this on Tuesday night when I witnessed a car-collision.

I’ve been fortunate to be in two car-collisions and come out of them nearly unscathed within the past two years. One was entirely my fault and the other was entirely not. What those events have done to me:

  • I’m scared to drive at night,
  • I’m scared of cars entering my lane from driveways and side-streets,
  • I quite nearly refuse to drive in weather conditions without winter tires,
  • I almost always have a jacket or blanket in the car, and
  • I don’t drive close to the same amount I used to.

But I’m also alive and I’ve still never broken a bone. I also have the crushing sense of what it feels like to be in a car-collision.

So, when my sweet husband and I ended up being the sole witnesses to an accident I knew what to do. It became clear that one car held a mother and her 6 year old daughter. They had whiplash, but that was the extent to their physical injuries. However, I saw the mother get of the car and immediately cradle her little girl in fear, but also thankfulness because  this little girl was alive and well. The mother was shocked, angry, but most of all she was overwhelmed and wanted anything but this to have happened.

When the driver got out of the other vehicle we discovered it held two young men a few years older than I.  His passenger was so shaken that he had not yet gotten out of his seat. He didn’t for a while. Fortunately, neither of them had any physical injuries that I learned about, despite being T-boned in their little car.

I should make it clear that I won’t be explaining how the collision occurred because it doesn’t matter to me, and it shouldn’t matter to you. Everyone loses in a car-collision.

As I looked around me and saw the need for someone who understood what it was like to be in this exact situation, I sat with the little girl and offered my blanket so that her mom could have a little space to let her emotions stabilize. Watching the mom brought me back to my accidents, and I knew she needed the time to figure out her feelings. Later, I spoke to that male passenger who was shaking uncontrollably. I offered him the blanket, too. The last thing I offered to all of the victims was my testimony.

There was actually a third party to this accident, but they weren’t involved in the collision. They had given the young men the wave – the classic “go ahead” – that led them and that mother to collide. They also left as soon as they realized what they’d done. Those people could have died. They all were just out picking up some take-out dinner. One of the young men had their birthday that day.

I wish I hadn’t been in my accidents, but I am thankful that I am alive, and I am thankful that I know what it’s like to have been in an accident because it helped me support a mother, a little girl, and two young men. Furthermore, I know that Dylan and I change the game in what is seemingly an open-and-closed case. Thankfulness & testimony really can go very far.