At church one day (*sigh*, okay, one Sunday…), Alexis and I noticed that there were little notepads in the slotted holders in the back of the pews. The notepads looked like they were there for congregants to write down prayer requests or something like that.

Anyway, the notepads in OUR pew had far more juicy things written on them than mere prayers Read on…

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My friend Ed Wischmeyer commented astutely on my previous post on useless resources (you can read his comment here). He got me thinking a lot more about what I had written, and in particular I got to thinking about what, exactly, was I trying to criticize about resources? So I replied, and in the process ended up writing another post on the subject:

Yes, I do see all the positive ways of seeing “resources”, and, indeed, if all people did was to recognize their talents and use them for the glory of God, this world would be a much better place indeed!

Admittedly, what I’m trying to get at here is slightly out of left field, and is a combination of two criticisms: (1) a criticism of our constant evaluation of what is useful and what is not; and (2) a criticism of the pressure to “manage and control”.
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Quick: what do you think of when you hear the word “resources”?

I was at a “Stewardship and Spirituality” conference on Saturday, with my pastor and a few other lay people from my church. It was a conference on how we as a church should be better stewards of what God has entrusted us with - and how we can live an alternative lifestyle that is counter to our culture’s dominant materialism and consumerism. After starting the day with a couple of windy speeches against materialism and consumerism, and exhortations to embrace stewardship as a joyful practice instead of a dutiful obligation, we spread out into various workshops.

One of the workshops I attended was about a “holistic approach” to stewardship and spirituality - integrating spiritual practices with stewardship. During the session, the speaker wrote out a few definitions: quotations from various authors on what “spirituality” meant and what “stewardship” meant. She quoted one author (I cannot remember who) who defined spirituality as: “the increasing sway and vitality of God in my life.”

She then quoted Dallas Willard in defining “stewardship” as: “the getting, having, controlling, and using of resources.”

This is where my soul recoiled.

RESOURCES???

Now, to be fair, the speaker pointed out that this definition went well beyond most people’s common understanding of “stewardship” as “giving money.” The speaker asked us to reflect on how Dallas Willard has extended “stewardship” to include not only how we give money, but also how we GET that money in the first place - how might we earn our living more responsibly and ethically? - and how we nurture that resource.

She also asked us to reflect on how Dallas Willard has extended the definition of “stewardship” to include not just money, but any “resource.” So, she asked us to list various resources, and people started voicing: “time”, “talents”, “services”, etc.

I sat there stewing and brewing… RESOURCES??? Thinking of “stewardship” and “spirituality” in terms of “getting, having, controlling, and using resources” strikes me as being an inherently materialistic and consumeristic view of the spiritual life.

My problem with thinking of stewardship in terms of “resources” is that it totally dehumanizes people and relationships. How are we to be good stewards of our relationships? Given Willard’s definition, we would have to start thinking about that kind of stewardship as: “getting, having, controlling, and using” our friends and family.

How are we to challenge our culture to break free of materialism and consumerism if our primary language is in terms of the material consumption of resources? Might there be a different way to think of life than in terms of how we use resources?

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So, Alexis and I were in the shuttle bus returning us to our car in the airport parking lot. As the bus made its rounds of the surrounding lots, dropping off other passengers, something interesting happened. At one point a lady was scanning the lot anxiously for her car, and for a while it looked like she had forgotten where she parked. When she finally found it and was getting off the bus, she said something along the lines of: “I’m glad I remembered where I parked, thank gosh!”

Wait a minute… thank gosh?!

Wow… if gosh helps me find my car in an ocean of cars, I’m going to start thanking gosh myself!

I’ve heard of this gosh before - people swear by gosh all the time, and they are often well-mannered and polite people. This gosh must be nice, to have such a nice following.

I’ve also heard that gosh has the power to darn! People often invoke the power of gosh when in sticky situations, and I find it appealing how easy it is for them: they simply (and politely) say, “gosh, darn it!”

Maybe today I’ll ask gosh to darn my socks.

Oh my gosh… I’m simply at a loss for words for how much I love my tame gosh!

And why should it stop with me? Why should I keep the knowledge of gosh to myself? If I have such a personal relationship with gosh that I can thank gosh in public, that I can ask gosh to darn my socks in public, that I can claim fervently that gosh is MY GOSH in public, then I really should tell other people about my gosh, by gosh!

So, gosh bless you! May the power of gosh always be with you, and may gosh always darn your socks for you.

But please don’t take my gosh’s name in vain. Otherwise you will offend me.

So, on my last night in Fort McMurray on Thursday, I decided I would try and see the Northern Lights! Based on polar activity predictions, the tips on best viewing times suggested I try anytime after midnight, into the wee hours of the morning. On that note, on Thursday night after class I went to bed early, set my alarm for 11.30 pm, and set out from my hotel at midnight.

My plan was to drive north past the oil fields as far as the road would go, and then continue further on the “winter road,” which is basically an ice road that only exists during the winter. During the summer it becomes a marshy swamp dotted with rivers and lakes, so the only time vehicular traffic goes north is in the winter. There is more info on the winter road here and here.

However, Fort McMurray is the last town on Highway 63. The next “hamlet” is Fort Chipewyan, about 200 miles north, and only accessible by road in the winter on the above-mentioned ice road.

In fact, immediately after the bridge that brings you out of Fort McMurray headed north, you encounter this sign:

Of course, to me, that is an invitation! So, here goes…

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