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Posts from the ‘Suffering’ Category

What if There Isn’t Room in My Heart?

I clicked on the headline somewhat unthinkingly (as I too often do). “The forgotten war in Syria.” It’s a place and a people that has a unique place in my heart given our church’s efforts to sponsor refugees during the Syrian refugee crisis, given the number of words that I wrote and spoke around that time advocating for a compassionate response, given the Syrian men, women, and children that I have come to know in our city over the last eight years or so. I had done a recent presentation on our church’s response to the Syrian crisis at a conference a few weeks ago, so I suppose that contributed to my reasons for clicking the link. But mostly I clicked because the war in Syria had receded into the shadows of my heart and mind and I probably felt like it shouldn’t have. Read more

Disneyland

I had barely walked through the door of my office at the jail when a guard showed up. “There’s an inmate who’s been trying to get a hold of a chaplain since Saturday. His kid is in on life support at the hospital. He wants to talk to someone. We suggested “Health Care,” but he wasn’t interested, so…” I gulped. Said I would “take care of it,” whatever that could possibly mean. I leafed quickly through some of the requests that had trickled in over the weekend and noticed two from this poor guy. I’ll call him Terry. Could someone please come see me… pray for me… pray for my son? My heart heaved a little. Read more

On the Failures of Words

Like so many, I have spent large portions of this week marinating in media about the events that have transpired in Israel and Gaza over the last six days. What does one even say at the sight of such scenes, such images, such abject evil and depravity? Perhaps the best thing would be to say nothing. Especially those of us so far removed from things, historically and politically. What need does the world have for so many opinions incubated mostly in ignorance or even of empathy divorced from any kind of experiential connection to the land, its history, its suffering, its people? And yet, silence, too, speaks. I have written about Palestinian suffering in the past. Symmetry, if nothing else, would seem to demand a few words about Israeli suffering. Read more

Our Soul Has Had More Than Its Fill

Christians have an odd relationship with the Hebrew Bible. We call it the “Old Testament” (which is vaguely condescending), and we embrace the sacred texts of the Jewish people as our own. We transpose words originally written by and for a specific people into more a more personal key. We call their Psalms the “prayerbook of the church” and we use them as such. We claim so many of their words as our own because we are convinced that Jesus is the fulfillment of their promise. This is an audacious claim and we should never forget this. Read more

“Heartbreak Can Be the Engine of Obliteration or Growth”

I read Nick Cave’s latest edition of the Red Hand Files before heading off to the jail yesterday. Zack, from Leeds, UK was wondering if Cave had any advice about how to deal with his father’s stroke and the sudden responsibility this had thrust upon him. Zack was used to living what was, by his own description, a fairly self-absorbed life. Now his family was looking to him for strength and guidance. He was struggling to cope, feeling emotionally drained and on the point of implosion. Did Cave have any advice? Read more

On Wisdom and Desperation

“I have learned, over time, to accept what I cannot change.” The words came from an older friend over breakfast recently. These were not trivial words, I knew. This person has endured significant physical trauma—the kind of thing that irreversibly changes a life, the kind of wound that never fully heals. This was no treacly aphorism, no self-congratulatory internet meme. This was the real deal. Read more

The Hawk is an Omen of War

There was a hawk perched on top of the church sign when I drove up early Sunday morning to prepare for worship. My first thought was, “oh, cool, a hawk.” And I dutifully took out my phone to take a picture. A closer inspection, however, yielded a less photogenic image than I had hoped. There was a long stringy thread of entrails—maybe a quarter meter or so?—hanging from the hawk’s talons, swinging in front of the sign, perilously close to the words “Pastor Ryan Dueck.” I pondered the potential trauma of that sight for an unsuspecting churchgoer as they rounded the corner looking for some Sunday morning inspiration. Read more

God and the Devil are at War

“Can I ask a question before we even start today?” It was Monday afternoon and there were around fifteen of us sitting in a circle on plastic chairs in an airless prison chapel with bad lighting. The question came from a young man who I’ve enjoyed getting to know over the last few months. He’s thoughtful, deliberate in his speech, deeply serious (alarmingly so, at times). When he speaks, people listen. “Yeah, of course,” I replied. “What’s your question?” He furrowed his brow, took a breath, and said, “What’s the point of being good?” Well, that’s the kind of question that can uncork an opinion or two. Read more

Magnificent Worms

I attended a funeral on Sunday afternoon. No, not a “funeral.” A “memorial.” Or a “celebration of life.” Or an “open house,” of sorts. The deceased had been gone for months, but a gathering had been planned (which itself is by no means a given these days). It was held in a museum atrium, overlooking the hills and river that he had loved to explore. There were lovely tributes and memories and photos and videos shared. There was coffee and snacks. There was a beautiful view. Read more

An Act of (Active) Love

Something I’ve learned over a decade and a half of pastoral ministry, is that people interpret and cope with their suffering in very different and very personal ways. Some cannot tolerate the idea that God could play any causal role whatsoever in their pain. God is their co-sufferer, labouring to bring goodness out evil, redemption out of brokenness. God is the salve, not the source. Others, take refuge in a highly specific and highly personal conception of God’s role in orchestrating the events of this world. Their torments come directly from the hand of a meticulously sovereign God whose will, while sometimes inscrutable, is always done. And then there are others—most of us, I suspect—who find ourselves somewhere between these two poles. Read more

Bleed into One

People sometimes ask me what I would have been if not a pastor. A number of options leap to mind, but I often joke that my first choice would have been “rock star.” I have always loved the energy and the emotion, the raw driving power of music, the euphoria of the crowd. It transports me. It always has. Alas, I have no real musical talent, which I’m guessing would have proved a difficult obstacle to overcome. I picked up the bass guitar a bit in my twenties and blundered uninspiringly along for a while, but that was the extent of it. Also, I probably would have needed hair to be a decent rock star. So, you know, the odds were always against me. Read more

Numbered Among the Defective

Troy* never reads from the bible when it’s his turn at the jail. “I can’t read,” he says. “Well, I can read… I can read when it’s charts and bullet points and diagrams and s*** like that, but not when it’s just a bunch of endless lines on a page. I get mixed up. I’ve got dyslexia or something. I’ve got a lot of things.” I don’t doubt this. He often rocks back forth on his chair, his hands drawing patterns on the page of a bible that is rarely opened to the right passage. Sometimes he whispers to himself while the conversation is going on around him. I always assure Troy that it’s fine if he doesn’t want to read. He listens, though. I know he does because he’s never short on commentary. Read more

Data Doesn’t Suffer

Apparently, ChatGPT is coming for us all.  You’ve heard of ChatGPT, yes? The artificially “intelligent” content creator that can spit out essays and website content and legal briefs and who knows what else based on a simple prompt. It’s changed how universities teach (I have several professorial type friends who say it’s become a massive problem on campus in the few short months it’s been out). And, apparently, it’s also going to do to white collar work what automation did to things like manufacturing. Robots have been able to put cars together for a while. Now, it seems, they can also churn out the content that those of us who sit behind desks buzzing importantly around on our computers produce. Who knows, perhaps, in the end the only jobs left will be to manage the intelligence that is managing us. Read more

On “Jesus Smuggling,” Impatience with Window Shopping, and a World That Can’t Help Being Beautiful

I’ve started reading Nick Cave’s Faith, Hope, and Carnage, which is basically a memoir-ish extended interview with journalist Seán O’Hagan. I have to say that so far, it’s pretty awesome. Nearly every other page, I’m thinking, “Oh, that’s good, I need to use that in a sermon or an essay or something.” You may have to tolerate a bunch of quotes around here for a while. Read more

God is Love. And We Must Love Each Other

A month or so ago, I became aware (I forget how) of Nick Cave. I had never heard of the Australian singer, songwriter, poet, and author before this, nor had I ever listened to his band (Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds). Actually, scratch that. His song Red Right Hand is the theme song for Peaky Blinders. And apparently a song called O Children made an appearance in a Harry Potter movie. So, I guess I’ve heard him before, but only accidentally. It wasn’t his music that grabbed my attention a month ago, but the title of his new book: Faith, Hope, and Carnage. Quite a title, that one. The kind of title that might incline someone to do a bit of digging around. Read more

Far as the Curse is Found

He comes to make his blessings flow
far as the curse is found. — Joy to the World

I often tell people that the bible sounds different when you read it in jail. The same is true for Christmas carols. The words and the melodies sound different when sung far away from festive church sanctuaries, when instead of candles and creches it’s just concrete and plastic and reinforced glass. You’re drawn to different lines of the familiar songs. Read more

The Violent Take It By Force

And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force. — Matthew 11:12

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I am not a violent man. I have never been in a fight. Not a real one anyway. I suppose there were hockey skirmishes and the ordinary fraternal conflagrations of childhood, but these little irruptions don’t really count. I was invariably terrible at violence. At heart, I am a peacemaker, if of a conflicted sort. Read more

In Extremis

To be a pastor is to regularly find oneself in extremis. Pastors are expected to bring consolation and hope into extreme situations: contexts of depression, addiction, suicidal ideation, crushing poverty, relational breakdown, violence, existential despair, intellectual doubt, debilitating illness, and ultimately, of course, death. Or, more precisely, to point to the One who promises these things in (and beyond) the fractured and chaotic world of human experience. But what happens to the possibility of consolation when you don’t believe in this One anymore? Read more