You are predictable. How does that make you feel? What questions does it engender?

Everyone is predictable — even the unpredictable. Their very unpredictability is what makes them predictable. You say, “But I’m a unique person, an individual. I’m not predictable.” Yet, your uniqueness doesn’t affect your predictability.

“Just give up control!” “You’re too controlling!” “He’s a control freak.” “Let go, and let God!”

Have any of these things been said to you, or about you? Does the subject of “control” leave you frustrated or angry or cold and bewildered?

I had a “Little Red Riding Hood” moment last Saturday while at a Thinking Shrewdly conference in Edmonton. That intrepid little lass was confused when her “grandma” didn’t look like her grandma. That was my conundrum as well.

Names can create humour — especially across cultures. For example, I can’t tell you how many times people have laughed or snickered after I was introduced in Ghana. You see, when they pronounce my name, it sounds like “Dog.” When people hear that, they wonder why any parent would name their child after a canine. I have a colleague whose name is Gord Martin (he told me this story) who now spends most of his time with diaspora peoples who have immigrated to Canada. In the same way that Ghanaians pronounce my name “Dog,” many southeast Asians pronounce his name, “God.” Some time ago, Gord was scheduled to go to Ottawa to speak at a church. He planned to stay overnight with the church pastor and his family. Because their home was small, the pastor informed his daughter that she would have to give up her room because “God Martin” would be staying with them. The little girl’s eyes grew large and she exclaimed, ‘I didn’t know that God had a last name!’

Have you seen them? They’re a great invention — foam soccer balls. They can look like real soccer balls. You can kick them, head them, and do everything with them that you can do with a leather soccer ball, but they’re soft!! They don’t hurt your foot when you kick them. They don’t destroy furnishings when you play inside a house. When you poke them, you don’t stub your finger. The ball absorbs the pressure and then returns to its original shape. Foam soccer balls have only one downside so far as I can see (unless you count the number of indoor objects broken during a now possible game of indoor soccer in the living room!). This was demonstrated to me on Sunday morning by my little friend, Sylvan. He was so excited to show me his lime green soccer ball and how he could kick it. Then he stopped and said, “Broken.”

I spent three hours yesterday using a tiny little motorized drum sander to shape compound rounded notches in several blocks of wood. On a previous day, I spent a couple of hours cutting 3 1/2” by 4”, five degree wedges out of blocks of maple. On a couple of other days, I spent several hours with carving tools, cutting six mortises. Each of these operations are a skill in themselves but I was not doing them to hone my skills. They aren’t random pursuits.

Let’s think about others this week. No, I’m not trying to encourage you to do something for another person (though that is always a good idea). I’m literally saying that we should think about the term “others.” So, let’s begin with a definition and then an observation. An “other” is “a person (or thing) distinct or different from one already mentioned or known about.”

We were doing so well. Sunshine, warmth, snow melt, the appearance of grass — and then we wake up to snow and a winter wonderland all over again. Oh, and while we’re at it, the world seems to be controlled by despots and idiots. Media continues to champion the banal over the substantive. My wife is in a dark place right now. I know others who are struggling with everything from death-bringing disease to mental health issues to marital problems to grief. And beyond all this, let me tell you about …

Tim recently found himself trying to arbitrate a dispute between his two eldest daughters. Despite his well-honed arbitration skills (he’s a lead pastor, after all), his daughters were having none of it. Things went sideways rapidly. They shouted angrily at each other. Tim lost his temper a bit and yelled at them. The girls stomped off to their respective rooms. Elly, the youngest, who had observed the whole thing, commented drolly, “Well, that was a an overreaction!” It was all Tim could do to exit the room without busting a gut in laughter.

This past Sunday, Tim did a great job of dealing with the subject of death as he took us through the last act of David’s life. There can be no denying it: David did not finish well. He died a bitter, frail, vindictive, and impotent man. But there can also be no denying that the bible refers to David as “a man after God’s own heart,” and that the title, ‘Son of David,’ was not only one of great honor but one reserved for God’s Messiah. So what do we do with all this? What are we to make of it?

Two completely unrelated events foster my thoughts this week. The first occurred this past Sunday, when a dear friend said she’d been thinking lately about confession. The second occurred two days earlier as I was running the edge of a section of my dining room table past a high speed router bit. The bit was cutting that hard wood like a hot knife through butter when my ears detected just the slightest click for one brief instant. I held my breath, finished the pass and used my thumb to briefly check the edge. All was well and I was relieved, having completed one of the most challenging operations on the dining table I’m building.

The smoke billowed around my shop, its acrid smell making my breathing uncomfortable. Yet, contrary to the adage, there was no fire, only clouds of smoke that required me to open both my overhead door and the entry door in order for at least some of the smoke to dissipate. With temperatures in the minus 20’s, that was no great delight!

My shop is still standing today, despite yesterday’s shenanigans. Let me explain.

When you look outside, what do you see? What do you think about? How does it affect you? 

If you’re “normal,” you see sunshine and feel uplifted. Clouds bring a sense of gloom. A squirrel  is a very active varmint that makes a mess of bird feeders and leaves a mess under the trees  where it chooses to eat. Frost on the windshield means that extra minutes are required to get  where we want to go. The prospect of a cold snap next weekend is just depressing. 

Davis is my youngest grandson and he is, to quote his father, a ‘tunker,’ who ‘bulldozes the  world to his will.’ At two years old, he is as solid as can be despite the fact that he is growing  taller. I kept that in mind as he saw me at church last Sunday and came down the aisle  towards me, a big smile on his face. As he neared me, the smile turned to a mischievous grin  and his pace quickened. In the last six feet, he started to run at me with clear intent. He was  going hard enough that, if he had run into the arm of the chair in which I sat, he would sustain  a serious bruise or a broken rib. He gave no thought to that. His only goal was the thrill of  impact. He was totally confident that I would catch him — which I did, while he laughed at the  good fun! 

The first time it struck me was when I sat in a rented house in Navrongo, in northern Ghana.  Scattered around me in the living room were a short-term missionary team from our church.  We had trained for months. I had gone ahead of them to do some teaching, experienced being  robbed of almost everything, picked them up at the airport in Tamale and now, at last, we were  together in the place that would be our home base for the next couple of weeks, preparing to  both minister to, and learn from, our Ghanaian brothers and sisters. It was mid-January and I  had begun another year of a bible reading plan. Thus, the verse was fresh in my mind. I  quoted Jacob to the group as I began: “To see your face is to see the face of God.” 

I begin the new year with a confession — I find myself misled by my “smart watch.” Perhaps it’s a plot conceived in the dark bowels of a concrete structure for the proletariat in mainland China, though I don’t see how misleading me can possibly further any communist plot. I should also add that I’m pretty sure that my particular watch is made in the U.S, therefore rendering my conspiracy theory null and void. But, I digress.

As this year began to wind down, I set a literary challenge for myself — to read some novels  by the Scottish author, George MacDonald, in his original 19th century English. Having completed one novel and commenced the second, I make these observations. First, there is a reason that Michael Philipps was inspired to translate the books for a modern reader. If you think I am long winded as a preacher, you should read this guy! Second, there is a reason that men like C.S. Lewis and G.K. Chesterton were so influenced by this man. His insight into life  with God as a disciple of Jesus is profound. 

It was the sad reflection of a friend who is close to seeing and experiencing almost a  century of Christmases: “You know, it doesn’t even feel like Christmas anymore. Jesus  is hardly given a thought.” 

By mid November, before Advent even began, my inbox was full of advertisements for  Black Friday sales. As soon as that weekend was over, the next tidal wave was for  Christmas sales. For the last week or more, the emphasis is Boxing Day sales. To be  fair, we’ve also had a month of school Christmas concerts and choir concerts. There  has been carolling and food preparation and Advent wreaths. Tonight, there will be  Christmas Eve services and church attendance will boom. Apparently, it’s now  politically incorrect (actually, it has been for some time) to wish people a Merry  Christmas (substitute “All the best of the season” or “Happy Holidays” to be safe)…

…But the character quality that allows us to wait wisely and well is just as hard to  develop as generosity or controlling our tongue or loving the unlovable. Anyone can  perform a selfless act on a one-off basis. That requires only a modicum of self discipline. But to do the selfless thing over and over again — even to train to do so —  is very hard.