Tatyana

She's here among us! Daughter Natalie gave birth to Tatyana Ashley this afternoon at 1:45 pm, coming in at 1.8kg.

Baby is doing fine...Mom is out - do to the surgery and will wake soon to meet her little angel face to face. Dad Mike is already snapping pictures with his Blackberry.

Thanks to anyone who prayed. I can breathe again.

Nat & Baby

As I write this we are waiting word on our daughter, Natalie. Her kidney's have been progressively getting worse and has had high-blood pressure. This morning the doctors decided that they needed to deliver her baby early, so a c-section is taking place right now.

Yes, it's frustrating not being there...but I can pray. That's all I got. But it's all I know to do.

If you can spare it, could you offer up a prayer too?

Everything We Need

Everything We Need – Music and Lyric by Gord Johnson

In the morning Lord we do look to you
For the strength we need just to make it through
Have mercy
In the evening Lord we look back and say
It was in your strength that we made our way
Have mercy
You are everything we need
Feed us Lord

You're not allowed to know this....

By Paul Schratz, BC Catholic July 20, 2009

Ted Gerk is not a fan of secrecy, especially when it comes to government involvement in totalitarian behaviour.

He and his wife are of Russian heritage, and his research for a 2003 book on Soviet Catholic persecution helped reveal horrific stories of government oppression.

Hide Me Within Thy Wounds: The Persecution of the Catholic Church in the USSR, detailed the history of persecution of the Catholic Church in Russia from 1918 to its almost complete annihilation in 1939.

Now, with his cousin, Gerk is working on a book about the small village north of Stalingrad where his family originated. Their research in the archives of the former Soviet Union has produced accounts from labour camp files of his grandfather’s brothers perishing in the Gulag.

All of this helps explain why Gerk has “little patience” with governments withholding information. That, and his commitment to human life, is why he’s been such a thorn in the side of various B.C. governments.

The former president of the Pro-Life Society of B.C. has been hounding B.C. governments since the 1990s, not only opposing abortion laws, but fighting for access to abortion data that governments would prefer to keep buried.

Speaking with The B.C. Catholic, Gerk said, “The only governments that have ever tried do this are totalitarian governments.”

So in 1995 he requested a copy of the report from the province’s Criminal Harassment Unit, set up to investigate alleged persecution of abortionists and women seeking abortions after the shooting of Vancouver abortionist Dr. Garson Romalis.

B.C. Attorney General Paul Ramsay refused to release the report, but it leaked out anyway, confirming what police had said: there was no link between the pro-life movement and the shooting, and there had been no increase in any form of harassment of health-care workers and abortionists in B.C.

In 1999, Gerk requested a coroner’s investigation into live births in B.C. following mid- to late-term abortions.

His persistence led to the release of shocking information that at least several times a year, babies in B.C. were surviving abortions and living as long as six hours before dying and being issued death certificates.

Until now, Gerk’s targets have been pro-abortion NDP governments that in the 1990s introduced the abortion laws still in place today. When the NDP was ousted in 2001, many pro-lifers, including Gerk, thought there might be some change.

Instead, the Liberals have been as bound as the NDP to the unrestricted approach to abortion, and the very restricted approach to abortion information. This is despite the fact that every time abortion information has come out, there has been no evidence of increased risk to abortion staff or breaches of confidentiality, the major excuses given for secrecy.

So now Gerk says it’s “pay the piper time” for the B.C. Liberals, who were elected after the NDP made abortion secrecy an election issue.

Gerk and Campaign Life Coalition British Columbia are using B.C.’s Freedom of Information Law to show it is in the “public interest” for the Information and Privacy Commissioner to override the censorship provisions of Bill 21 and order the release of abortion-related information.

The information they’re looking for would seem completely reasonable: how many abortions are done in B.C. and where? How often do women undergo more than one abortion? How often are abortions performed on underage girls? How often do abortions result in complications?

There’s absolutely no reason that information shouldn’t be available to the public.

Their initiative deserves support, and that includes financial aid. To find out more or to contribute, visit http://stopabortioncensorship.wordpress.com or go to Facebook and search for Stop Abortion Censorship.

A Letter to our daughter Stephanie for her grad

Stephanie Grace Gerk;

Your name Stephanie means “Crowned One”, because Christ holds for you a crown of victory, waiting for you in the next world. You were named this because of the story of Stephen in the Bible. He was loyal to the Faith…and was so stubborn about it he was even willing to die for what he believed in.

Your second name, Grace, was given to you because both your Mom and I were so mindful of God’s goodness and His grace extended over our family…we felt it was important to acknowledge that Grace by giving you a name that would proclaim it to the world, and when you were dedicated, our prayer that Grace would not only be part of your name, but be an integral part of your life.

That is your calling Stephanie. Crowned one suggests royalty…a vision of who you are in Christ. Grace is the gift that God gives to each of us, and then desires that we share it and have it as our banner over the entire world.

Wherever you go, whether Russia, or another city, your duty and calling is to proclaim the gift of Grace to all that will listen. Among the many gifts, Stephanie, that God has given you are an ability to see injustice, a stubbornness to do what you have set your mind on – gifts that when allowed to be molded by God, will make you an unstoppable force for the Kingdom of God. Use your gifs wisely, for God has a destiny for you, that only you will be able to fulfill – no one else!

We leave you with these words, taken from the Message Translation of Scripture:

Proverbs 3

1-2 Good friend, don't forget all I've taught you; take
to heart my commands.
They'll help you live a long, long time,
a long life lived full and well.

3-4 Don't lose your grip on Love and Loyalty.
Tie them around your neck;
carve their initials on your heart.
Earn a reputation for living well
in God's eyes and the eyes of the people.

5-12 Trust God from the bottom of your heart;
don't try to figure out everything on your own.
Listen for God's voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;
he's the one who will keep you on track.
Don't assume that you know it all.
Run to God! Run from evil!
Your body will glow with health,
your very bones will vibrate with life!
Honor God with everything you own;
give him the first and the best.
Your barns will burst,
your wine vats will brim over.
But don't, dear friend, resent God's discipline;
don't sulk under his loving correction.
It's the child he loves that GOD corrects;
a father's delight is behind all this.
The Very Tree of Life

13-18 You're blessed when you meet Lady Wisdom,
when you make friends with Madame Insight.
She's worth far more than money in
the bank; her friendship is better than a big salary.
Her value exceeds all the trappings of wealth;
nothing you could wish for holds a candle to her.
With one hand she gives long life,
with the other she confers recognition.
Her manner is beautiful,
her life wonderfully complete.
She's the very Tree of Life to those who embrace her.
Hold her tight—and be blessed!

19-20 With Lady Wisdom, GOD formed Earth;
with Madame Insight, he raised Heaven.
They knew when to signal rivers and springs to the surface,
and dew to descend from the night skies.
Never Walk Away

21-26 Dear friend, guard
Clear Thinking and Common Sense with your life;
don't for a minute lose sight of them.
They'll keep your soul alive and well,
they'll keep you fit and attractive.
You'll travel safely, you'll neither tire nor trip.
You'll take afternoon naps without a worry,
you'll enjoy a good night's sleep.
No need to panic over alarms or surprises,
or predictions that doomsday's just around the corner,
Because GOD will be right there with you;
he'll keep you safe and sound.

27-29 Never walk away from someone who deserves help;
your hand is God's hand for that person.
Don't tell your neighbor "Maybe some other time"
or "Try me tomorrow" when the money's right
there in your pocket.
Don't figure ways of taking advantage of your neighbor
when he's sitting there trusting and unsuspecting.

30-32 Don't walk around with a chip on your shoulder,
always spoiling for a fight.
Don't try to be like those who
shoulder their way through life.
Why be a bully?
"Why not?" you say. Because GOD can't stand twisted souls.
It's the straightforward who get his respect.

33-35 GOD's curse blights the house of the wicked,
but he blesses the home of the
righteous.
He gives proud skeptics a cold shoulder,
but if you're down on your luck, he's right there to help.
Wise living gets rewarded with honor;
stupid living gets the booby prize.

God Bless you Stephanie…we are very very proud of you and what you have managed to accomplish! Love, Mom & Dad

Привольное (Варенбург \ Warenburg)

This snap is of the remains of the cemetery in the former Volga German village of Warenburg. I've seen many of these on my travels, but none so lonely and massive as this.

Soviets removed any grave markers and so you have row upon row of unmarked graves...I guess kinda reminding me they're all waiting for something.

As was the case for all the Volga Germans, everyone from this village was deported to Siberia in September of 1941.

A chap from Russia has visited a number of the old villages and placed his photos online, hence this fascinating and lonely photo.

On the death of the wicked

World Magazine
Written by Tony Woodlief
June 1, 8:32 AM

My wife wept when she heard that abortionist George Tiller had been murdered. She cried out and left the sanctuary of our church, perhaps for fear of hearing that God had ordained it, that it was all part of His plan. When a tidal wave kills thousands, or when a child is stricken with cancer, or even when a wicked killer is struck down with unlawful violence, it is hard to hear that this is part of God’s plan to glorify Himself, as if all this bloodshed and misery is what He intended from the beginning.

“‘Do I have any pleasure at all that the wicked should die?’ says the Lord God, ‘and not that he should turn from his ways and live’?” Perhaps more chilling, for a Bible-toting assassin, would be Christ’s promise: “For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged; and with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you.” Perhaps this is why George Tiller’s murderer did not stand beside his freshly fallen corpse, but fled like a coward. Perhaps as he saw firsthand what it feels like to unjustly take up the Judge’s sword, he felt the cold shadow of it cross over his own neck.

And so now a killer is dead and a murderer imprisoned and God knows how many people grief-stricken or furious or—God have mercy on their souls—exultant. A gunshot took a death merchant from the earth, but who knows what evil it has unleashed?

But worst of all, which is what grieved my wife, is that George Tiller was sent to fall before the judgment seat of God, where even a righteous man must tremble. Whatever might have been for him is ended. Perhaps he would have continued to shed the blood of innocents. Perhaps he would have repented, to the rejoicing of angels. None of that is for us to know.

We can know this, however: George Tiller was fashioned in the image of God and he was cut down by the unlawful hand of man. He is no martyr. But he is not so different from you or I. And where might we go, God have mercy on our souls, were we slaughtered in the midst of our unrepentance?

It is an awful thing indeed to slay a wicked man. Who dares claim that authority? Who aspires to sit in the judgment seat of the Living God? Better instead to pray, all of us, for ourselves and our loved ones and our enemies alike, because all of us will one day give an accounting. God have mercy on those of us who must give that accounting with bloody hands.

Remember to Vote!

Well, it's that time again. Time for eveyone to get out there and vote! We live in a democracy, and for that very reason, all of us have a responsibility to vote. Once again I'm running the web site for a couple of groups that ask some very important questions of the candidates running. That web site is located here.

See you at the polls!

The colourful life of Canada’s Johnny Appleseed

BCCN’s series of faith profiles marking the 150th anniversary of the founding of the province continues, with the story of one of the province’s more colourful missionaries. Taken from Canada: Portraits of Faith (Reel to Real), edited by Michael Clarke.

BC Christian News October 2008

By Ted Gerk

OLD-TIMERS in the Okanagan who knew him well remembered Father Charles Pandosy as a huge, powerfully built man, capable of amazing feats of strength, with a big booming voice and a ready wit.

Although a deeply religious Oblate missionary, Pandosy was also known to settle an argument by challenging his opponent to a fistfight. Today, Pandosy is best remembered as Canada’s Johnny Appleseed.

Charles John Felix Adolph Pandosy was born in Marseilles, France, in 1824 to Marguerite Josephine Marie Dallest and Etienne Charles Henry Pandosy.

His father was a navy captain and a landowner and was thus able to provide comfortable living conditions and a good education for his family It was his father’s navy career that drew Pandosy to the adventure of distant ports.

As a step in this direction, while attending the Bourbon College at Aries, France, Pandosy decided to enter the Oblate Juniorate of Lumineres, a seminary for men seeking ordination into the Oblate Order of priesthood in the Roman Catholic Church. He took his final religious vows in 1845.

Bishop de Mazenod, founder of the Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate, provided him with an inspiring admonition: “There are in this world but two loves: the love of God extending to the contempt of self; and the love of self extending to the contempt of God. All other loves are but degrees between these two extremes. Do not fear, you obey the One who rules the world.”

This wisdom would guide Pandosy’s missionary endeavours in the Pacific Northwest for more than four decades. In February 1847, the 23 year old Pandosy and four others were sent from France to the mission fields of the Oregon Territory.

It was an arduous eight-month journey, culminating in their arrival at Fort Walla Walla. Here, the men began to fulfill the objective of their journey: the evangelization of the Yakima Indians.

Pandosy and the others quickly discovered the violence of the region. On November 29, 1847, the Marcus Whitman Massacre took place, in which several Cayuse Indians killed 13 people and took more than 40 hostages. In February 1848, American troops were dispatched, and the Cayuse War began. The war was to last two-and a half years.

Motivated by these perilous events, Pandosy’s superiors allowed for early ordination. Pandosy and a colleague officially entered the Oblate Order in early January 1848, the first priests ordained in what was to become Washington State. Pandosy altered his name at this point to Charles Marie Pandosy.

The missionaries not only cared for the spiritual needs of the natives, they also served as translators and as peacekeepers. Pandosy and his co-workers managed to keep the Yakimas from entering the war. Pandosy became fluent in the Yakima language and eventually compiled its first dictionary. He later acted as a mediator and an interpreter between the Yakimas and the white man while continuing his missionary work among the Indians and serving as an army chaplain.

In March 1859, war flared between the U.S. Army and the Spokane and Yakima Indians, and the Oblates made the difficult decision to close their missions among the Yakimas and the Cayuses.

In summer 1859, Pandosy was sent to the Okanagan Valley in British Columbia, where he established a mission known as L’Anse au Sable, the Cove of Sand, in an area that is now the City of Kelowna. Pandosy quickly recognized the agricultural potential of the Okanagan’s temperate setting and planted its first apple trees, encouraging new settlers to do the same.

A friend of Pandosy wrote: “The first trees planted by the missionary produced a beautiful apple, deep red, shaped like a Delicious – a good winter apple.” Pandosy’s orchards eventually established the Okanagan Valley as one of Canada’s chief fruit-growing areas.

Pandosy was a devout pastor who also served his flock as doctor; teacher; lawyer; orator; botanist; agriculturist; musician (he played the French horn); voice instructor; and sports coach. He fast became known as a troubleshooter, a peacemaker, a defender of justice, a champion of the underdog – and, above all else, a great humanitarian.

But Pandosy was not your typical priest. Once, when his young Indian interpreter and guide gambled away Pandosy’s brand new saddle, Pandosy immediately challenged him to a fight.

Love and respect for his priest kept the native man’s hands down by his side, causing Pandosy to grab the culprit by the scruff of the neck and demand that he put up his fists and defend himself. Pandosy, however, tripped on his cassock, allowing his opponent to jump on top of him.

Those who observed the spectacle were surprised at Pandosy’s unpriestly behaviour. Dusting himself off, Pandosy thundered: “I’m not mad at him, I’m mad about the saddle.”

Pandosy, who experienced other missions throughout British Columbia ­– Esquimalt, Fort Rupert, Fort St. James, the lower Fraser, Stuart Lake, Mission City and New Westminster – was among those who believed that Indians and their culture should be respected, and that the ways of the white man were largely responsible for the indifference that many Indians displayed toward Christianity.

He wrote to a superior in the 1850s: “But I shiver, Reverend Father, when I think of the miserable state of the Savages, as I cannot delude myself, at least in the country where we live, the Savages around us are what the Whites have made them and what we have let them become instead of working hard and generously to make them otherwise with the help of the grace of God.”

On February 6, 1891, Father Pandosy died near Penticton, after a pastoral visit during cold weather to Keremeos. His body was brought to the mission that he had founded on the site of present-day Kelowna, and lovingly laid to rest.

Pandosy influenced whites and natives alike and saved the lives of thousands during the various wars between natives and settlers. He taught that two cultures and two worlds could live together peacefully based on mutual trust and respect.

Pandosy’s life of faith and sacrifice are evidenced by the missions he founded and so diligently served. On his own behalf he said, “I expend myself and over this is spent God’s grace.”

Ted Gerk is director of operations at Heritage Christian Online School in Kelowna.

Note: This was a fun article to do for my friend Michael Clarke. We even manged to track down a little viewed updated photograph of Pandosy. Thought I would share ut with you.

Ok

Nat is ok...thanks for your prayers. For those of you who know Dan & Bonnie Baskill, their little girl Hannah is seriously ill with a heart problem....and things don't look too good at this point. Please pray for them all....they will need all of us to be there over the next few weeks as Hannah has surgery. It rests in God's hands...

Nat in hospital

Natalie is in the hospital again with another kidney infection...please pray

Mom & Easter....

Margaret Gerk, left, and Marcelle Sayers carry the cross along Leon Avenue during the annual Way of the Cross procession as it wound its way through Kelowna’s downtown on Good Friday‘ The cross was carried by volunteers and made scheduled stops at social agencies for speeches and prayers‘

 

GARY NYLANDER/The Daily Courier

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Thoughts....

Finally Home
by Mercy Me

I’m gonna wrap my arms around my daddy’s neck
And tell him that I’ve missed him.
And tell him all about the man that I became
And hope that it pleased him
There’s so much I want to say
There’s so much I want you to know

When I finally make it home
When I finally make it home
Then I’ll gaze upon the throne of the King
Frozen in my steps
And all the questions that I swore I would ask
Words just won’t come yet
So amazed at what I’ve seen
So much more than this old mind can hold


And the sweetest sound my ears have yet to hear
Voices of the angels

Sun & Warmth

Some things in life are a blessing.

Surgery Successful!

Many thanks to those that prayed for Kristina. Her knee surgery seemed to have gone well. Now, all we have to do is to convince her to be careful for the next few weeks and not overdo it...she should be up playing basketball in no time!

Pause for reflection

Pause for reflection
Being out of power and out of fashion has advantages
Tony Woodlief

I'm looking forward to Time in the Wilderness. It's a phrase one must now capitalize, so often has it been repeated about American conservatives, and American Christians, and especially those American conservatives who call themselves Christians. The party that most claimed to represent these crowds has been thrashed at the polls. Milton Friedman is dead; John Maynard Keynes is reborn. King James is out; The Message is in. And so the various strains of conservatives and Christians with political aspirations are headed to the wilderness, as the narrative goes, to find themselves.

In truth, most of the people who make their living from politics will do no such thing. Temporarily deposed, they will write campaign manifestos thinly disguised as memoirs, or become lobbyists or consultants or television talking heads. They might slim down, or buff up, or get a tan. They will await the gradual unfolding of slip-ups and scandals that signal the impending downfall of their opponents. Surveying American politics is, in this regard, like watching a game of musical chairs between two surly teenagers with one chair. The kid on the chair puffs out his chest; the kid without the chair sulks and bides his time.

But just because the professionals are unlikely to take advantage of this opportunity for reflection doesn't mean the rest of us shouldn't. I've given some thought to what the wandering time might look like. One blessed power of wilderness, for example, is that it shuts people up. Even the chattiest of chatterboxes finds words inadequate when he is surrounded by towering sequoias, or scrambling up a rocky slope in thinning air. We could use less chatter, I think. Especially the chatter that is in essential agreement with itself, and convinced that those who disagree are Of The Devil. When you find yourself surrounded by people who agree with everything you say, you're headed for a fall. No wonder the Bible warns against idle talk.

Another thing about wilderness is that it simplifies, which is, as the artist Hans Hoffman explained, "to eliminate the unnecessary so that the necessary may speak." You forget about your petty grievances when you are tensely waiting for a mother bear and her cubs to cross the trail up ahead. Whatever disagreements may have been festering among your small band of brothers disappear in that moment, because you are reminded that there are no animal cages out here, no ambulances, no one to look after you but these people here alongside you. The unnecessary has gone; there are only the necessities of brotherhood and faith.

A dissipation of chatter and the renewal of brotherhood are overdue. And so I'm encouraged by two small endeavors. In one instance, a young Christian friend has started a series of dinners to bring people in Washington, D.C., together to discuss not politics but ideas. He's modeling it on "The Other Club," which Winston Churchill and a friend started in response to being snubbed by the mainstream London political club of their day, "The Club." The Other Club's original membership was one-third Liberal and one-third Conservative, with the last third consisting of accomplished people outside politics. They were bound by rules of civility and thoughtfulness, but not commonality of thought.

Other friends have started a Hall of Men, which meets fortnightly in Wichita, Kan., to share a meal, discuss great men of the Christian faith, and sample homemade brews. Here Catholics, Eastern Orthodox, and Protestants come together to learn about the feats and writings of men like Athanasius and G.K. Chesterton, closing each meeting with Compline—evening prayers. The conversations here run much deeper than politics, to faith, culture, art, and civilization. I suspect these are the concepts to which we need to return, during our stint in the wilderness, if only to remind ourselves why we cared so much about politics in the first place. And who knows, maybe some struggle and reflection might change the mind even of someone like me, who is always right.

There's something more important going on here than intellectualism. For all the talk in conservative circles about a need for "fresh ideas," what's even more imperative is renewed hearts.

Copyright © 2009 WORLD MagazineFebruary 14, 2009, Vol. 24, No. 3

Happy Birthday Natalie!

It seems like only yesterday that a dear little one was given to us from Heaven. This little bundle was so small and fragile that we almost lost her the day she came into the world. Despite the medical challenges, our daughter Natalie has grown into a fine young woman! She is a testimony to the goodness and grace of God.

Natalie, we love you and we wish you many Blessings from on high...Happy Birthday!

Ouch.....

Silent betrayal
Public confession may be difficult, but it's half the gospel
Andrée Seu

I have made the Word of God complicated. I have taken the Psalms—"I will sing of the steadfast love of the Lord, forever; with my mouth I will make known your faithfulness to all generations" (Psalm 89:1)—and rendered them inert. One can do that in at least two ways: Regard them as prophetic ecstasy; regard them as bygone liturgical recitations.

A day is coming when we will groan at how simple this all was: You do not tell your lover in private how awesome he is, and then act embarrassed about him in public. This would not be called discretion but betrayal. And yet I have called discretion my public silences about God, and have spun Byzantine rules for the when, where, and how of it, until my sledge has bogged down in the mud and I hardly speak of God at all. No wonder Jesus loves children best.

Talking about "God" can be a form of cowardice. Some give public nods to "God," knowing that generic confession does not invite reproach. No one is won to faith in Christ by mention of "God." Even presidents every four Januaries lisp "so help me God," and except for Michael Newdow, it produces a yawn. "I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins"—That's what gets you in trouble; that's what saves.

While I am busy betraying God in a restaurant, people at the next table are chatting with abandon about their Reiki class, appointments with a psychic, the Buddhist temple they discovered last week, and their Trans-Life Regression therapy.

For 30 years I have missed half the gospel. Here is the whole: "If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved" (Romans 10:9). Even a mediocre grammar student can parse it: The "If" governs both "confess with your mouth" and "believe in your heart," both clauses being the condition of "be saved." I had shrunk the "confess with your mouth" part to responsive reading in worship services, or a rote response on church membership Sunday. This is eisegesis, not exegesis.

Speaking of which, I know a man who used to be on the membership interview committee in my church. He once told me that it is remarkable that you can always tell a seminarian. Every other candidate, when you ask why he desires to be a member, will talk about what Christ has done for him. The seminarian wants to talk about theology. Paul Simon said it rightly: "There must be 50 ways to leave your lover."

My anecdotal experience is that, in general, the higher the level of Christian education, the less likely the person will publicly praise God. Sit next to a degreed Bible student on an airplane, and ask about his life, and he will say he is a theologian. Or is working toward an M.Div. Or plans to be a pastor. That's fine as an entrée, I suppose. But I should think he has warmer things to say about his wife.

What finally prompted this essay was a eureka moment during my blessed insomnia. There is a man I have lost touch with who boasts about Jesus all day long—Jesus this and Jesus that, Jesus his hope, Jesus his deliverer from addiction, Jesus his healer. My end of the conversation was more of the defeated and whiny variety. I am ashamed to admit that I thought him quaint, which is a way of feeling superior to someone. What dawned on me in the wee hours is the way God has exalted him. Whatever sins the man has, he honors God with his mouth, and so God honors him.

The Lord is willing to overlook a lot when a child of His continually praises Him publicly from a joyful heart. Your wife may have foibles aplenty, but if she loves and respects you—and everybody knows it—it doesn't matter so much to you if she stands the knives the wrong side up in the dish drainer. I think God is like that.

I don't consider this column public confession, by the way. It takes no courage whatsoever to type alone in my study. Especially when I'm typing for a safe audience.

If you have a question or comment for Andrée Seu, send it to aseu@worldmag.com.
Copyright © 2009 WORLD MagazineJanuary 31, 2009, Vol. 24, No. 2

Happy Birthday David!

Our son David is 19 today! May God richly Bless him and continue to reveal His destiny for you. We love you so much David!!

Concerned and frightened for our country

My grandparents escaped from Communist Russia in the 1920's. The lived through the revolution and civil war...they experienced the wonder of the "Red Terror".

They didn't come to this country to have a bunch of morons march in our streets to the chants of "Death to Israel"!

I am astounded...I am even more astounded that the Canadian news media, ever so eager to make front-page news of any anti-semitic right winger, stand silent as folks march in the streets with their pathetic Hezbollah flags and their anti-semitic slogans.

This is MY country. Anti-Jewish crap has no business in this country...

Happy Birthday Kimmy!

Wow...this young lady is now 14 years old! Her beautiful smile (like her Mom's) and her wonderful disposition is such a blessing to our family!

We love you Kimmy!

Together at last...

Christmas morning found all 11 of our children together in one room! Natalie had arrived this morning from Calgary, making the family complete. Presents and breakfast before Becky had to leave for her responsibilities to her future in-laws.

But for a few hours, our family was together. I above all men am truly blest! It was for me, the best Christmas present!

Frohe Weihnachten und ein gutes Neues Jahr!

aka Merry Christmas!

Oh Bother....

I know the federal election has come and gone. I wrote a letter for our local daily newspaper, which was published, lamenting the fact that we actually allow people to run for the Communist Party in our elections...when we would never allow anyone to run for the Nazi party.

While I am speechless that there are actually 218 people in Kelowna who obviously had no family members who were sent to concentration camps or starved to death under Communism, I guess their "socialist revolution" is small enough that they won't be uniting with other "workers of the world" anytime soon.

Life after Death....

Just a few days after I posted that great song by Steve Camp, There will be a Day, we get word that a friend of ours, Marina Thomas, went home to be with Jesus this morning. This mother of 10 had a nursing baby just 3 months old.

Ron Rolheiser comments about the book, "The Shack", and how it deals with pain, evil and suffering:

How does the God we meet in The Shack answer the question of evil? Pretty much like Jesus at the death of Lazarus, when he is asked: Where is God when bad things happen to good people? God, Jesus tells us there, does not necessarily rescue us from suffering and death. Rather He enters into them with us and ultimately, though not immediately, redeems them. Asked if he could have prevented Mack's daughter's death, God answers: Yes. First, by not creating at all. ... Or secondly, I could have chosen to actively interfere in her circumstance. The first was never a consideration and the latter was not an option for purposes you cannot possibly understand now.

So what is God's answer to the problem of evil? The God we meet in The Shack replies: At this point all I have to offer you as an answer is my love and goodness, and my relationship with you; essentially what Jesus offers us in the Gospels, not an intellectual answer but a relationship. 

Roheiser also wrote in another column:

The sisters of Lazarus, Martha and Mary, send a message to Jesus telling him that "the man you love" is gravely ill. Curiously though Jesus does not immediately rush off to see Lazarus. Instead he stays where he is for two more days, until Lazarus is dead, and then sets off to see him. When he arrives near the house, he is met by Martha who says to him: "If you had been here, my brother would not have died!"

Basically her question is: "Where were you? Why didn't you come and heal him?" Jesus does not answer her question but instead assures her that Lazarus will live in some deeper way. Martha then goes and calls her sister, Mary. When Mary arrives she repeats the identical words to Jesus that

Martha had spoken: "If you had been here my brother would not have died!" However, coming out of Mary's mouth, these words mean something else, something deeper. Mary is asking the universal, timeless question about suffering and God's seeming absence. Her query ("Where were you when my brother died?") asks that question for everyone: Where is God when innocent people suffer? Where was God during the holocaust? Where is God when anyone's brother dies?

But, curiously, Jesus does not engage the question in theory; instead he becomes distressed and asks: "Where have you put him?" And when they offer to show him, he begins to weep. His answer to suffering: He enters into peoples' helplessness and pain.

Afterwards, he raises Lazarus from the dead. And what we see here will occur in the same way between Jesus and his Father. The Father does not save Jesus from death on the cross even when he is jeered and mocked there. Instead the Father allows him to die on the cross and then raises him up afterwards.

The lesson in both these deaths and raisings might be put this way: The God we believe in doesn't necessarily intervene and rescue us from suffering and death (although we are invited to pray for that). Instead he redeems our suffering afterwards. God's seeming indifference to suffering is not so much a mystery that leaves the mind befuddled as a mystery that makes sense only if you give yourself over in a certain level of trust.

Forgiveness and faith work the same. You have to roll the dice in trust. Nothing else can give you an answer. And I do not say this glibly. I know too many people who have been hurt, brutally and unfairly, in ways that make it difficult for them to accept that there is an all-powerful God who cares.

But sometimes the only answer to the question of suffering and evil is the one Jesus gave to Mary and Martha - shared helplessness, shared distress, and shared tears, with no attempt to try to explain God's seeming absence, but rather a trusting that, because God is all-loving and all-powerful, in the end all will be well and our pain will someday be redeemed in God's embrace. 

 I post all of this because we are all in a state of shock.

Why? Death is indeed a regular occurance. It happens. But when it involved people you know, or the situation is one of a Mom with 10 children, you look up and ask the question, Why?

So I ask. Why? The answer is not what I am looking for...but it is an answer that involves trust and redemption. And for now, I have no alternative but to accept it.

Happy Birthday Becky!!

For some reason, I'm not able to upload any photos...I'll keep trying...in the meantime:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BECKY!

Such a jewel, she is engaged to be married next August. She has brought us so much joy over the years, we are proud to have her as our daughter!!

Love you Becky-Boos!

Jeremy Camp: There will be a day

I try to hold on to this world with everything I have
But I feel the weight of what it brings, and the hurt that tries to grab
The many trials that seem to never end, His word declares this truth,
that we will enter in this rest with wonders anew

But I hold on to this hope and the promise that He brings
That there will be a place with no more suffering

(Chorus)
There will be a day with no more tears, no more pain, and no more fears
There will be a day when the burdens of this place, will be no more, we'll see Jesus face to face
But until that day, we'll hold on to you always

I know the journey seems so long
You feel you’re walking on your own
But there has never been a step
Where you’ve walked out all alone

(Chorus)

Troubled soul don’t lose your heart
Cause joy and peace he brings
And the beauty that’s in store
Outweighs the hurt of life’s sting

I can’t wait until that day where the very one I’ve lived for always will wipe away the sorrow that I’ve faced
To touch the scars that rescued me from a life of shame and misery this is why this is why I sing

Something Beautiful: Newsboys

I love how this song presents the wonder and awe of the many gifts God gives to us....

A Story that can now be told Part 2

Last year I wrote the story of my great uncle, Jakob Gerk, and how I was able to fill in the blanks of his story. (Read the post here) The brother of my grandfather, Jakob perished somewhere in the Soviet Gulag. The family was never sure where he died, only that some fellow prisoner years later would contact them about when he died, and approximately where.

In the summer of 2007, I was able to meet one of his children, Lydia, who was 82 at the time. Lydia told us the story of how her Dad took care of them. But even in 2007, she had doubts about the rumours of her father's death....and hoped that someday, it would be learned that he had survived and not suffered the fate of so many millions.

Alas, this past week I researched a publication I had received from Russia: GEDENKBUCH: Книга Памяти немцев-трудармейцев Усольлага НКВД/МВД СССР (1942-1947 гг.). Сост. Э.А. Гриб. Ред. В.Ф. Дизендорф. М.: Общественная академия наук российских немцев. - 2005.

The book details a list of people who died in the labour camp located in Usolaga, Perm Oblast, Russia. Jacob Gerk is listed there, who died on December 3, 1942....all the particulars seem to fit that this is the same Jakob Gerk.

I'll write the family in Germany to let them know this sad news. And it is sad. The book details lists of a few thousand names. All these people had hopes and dreams. Families. And, most importantly, they had their faith.

I think of the quote by CS Lewis: “We're not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be”

At any rate, this closes a chapter that was waiting to be written. I had made numerous requests of archives in Russia, and came up empty handed. Now we know. Jakob is resting in peace. I know that. Now his family can have closure.

To our family, Jakob was a heroe. His story can be told.

Now it is on to another brother of my grandfather, Georg Gerk. He too perished in a labour camp...we do not know when...the family suspects it was in the Chelyabinsk region. Here was a notorious camp where thousands died. So the sleuthing continues....

Where am I?

No, I have not forgotten to post. Life gets so busy sometimes.

It has been said that a man spends the first half of his life wrestling with sin, and the second half wrestling with God.

I can totally concur!

There has been lots happening, which is natural in a family our size. Birthdays, anniversary, camping, all these things take place regardless if I write about them here. All these events are special in their own way, regardless of my written thoughts.

But I wrestle. It's frustrating. I never leave well enough alone. But what is "well enough"? I'm wrestling with God in a number of areas right now. I won't bore you with the details...you would probably find them very silly. But to me...they are life. So I deal with what life sends my way. I deal with all the events and issues of raising and maintaining a family. And then I deal with the things God is showing me...or, more precise, I wrestle. After that, I don't have much emotional energy to write here.

Awards Night

This past Wednesday was awards night at HCS. Our Kristina made the Principal's List, as well as a number of other academic awards...well done Kristina we are very proud of you!! Also, Kimberly made B Honour Roll after working very hard this ast year...well done Kimberely! We are also very proud of all the hard work you did!

Awards and Birthdays

It was time to celebrate Ashley's Birthday, as well as celebrate Steven's achievements in school! Well done! We are so proud of you guys!

George Grant on Leadership

Inevitable Controversy

All leaders are controversial. They invariably risk the ire of others. Because they stand for certain things, they necessarily stand against certain things. This causes them to stand out. It makes them more than a little peculiar in this plain vanilla world of smothering uniformity. G.K. Chesterton asserted, “A man with a definite belief always appears bizarre, because he does not change with the world; he has climbed into a fixed star and the earth whizzes below him like a zoetrope. Millions of mild black-coated men call themselves sane and sensible merely because they always catch the fashionable insanity, because they are hurried into madness after madness by the maelstrom of the world. The man with a definite belief is sure to be the truer friend. Therefore mark the inequalities of the world and celebrate them as matters of definition and preciseness.”

In order to maintain a sense of equilibrium, a leader must keep several things in mind as he or she does what’s worth doing:

1. To affirm one thing is to deny another. It is not possible to take a stand without calling into question another stand. And that is invariably an offense. There is simply no way around it. A strong leader is always careful, tries to measure language, and seeks to moderate extremes. But no matter how hard he or she may try, someone, somewhere, somehow is going to be offended. Andrew Jackson admitted, “I know if I were to say the sky was blue, someone would take great offense, as if I had purposefully neglected the prerogatives of the multitudes of Chinamen then dwelling under the pall of night.”

2. Accept the nature of the struggle. Our world is inclined to polarization. People take sides. And since there are at least two sides to every issue, folks are going to hurry into opposite lines in order to oppose one another. You can be sure that there will be folks along each flank itching to pick a fight. That is just the way things are. It may not be particularly desirable. But it is reality. The good leader is able to assess the situation as it actually is—not as it ought to be or used to be or one day will be. John Quincy Adams confessed, “It is never my desire to fight but it is always my intention to do so. I am resigned to such a posture only because I know the nature of man is contention and not conciliation. Thus, the vast majority of the moral work which needs to be done will be accomplish only after the clash and clatter of conflict.”

3. If you have to fight, fight fair. All is not fair in either love or war. There are ethical restraints to which we must give heed. We may be forced into conflict against our wills, but we need not be forced into concupiscence against our wills. We can stick to the point. We can avoid personal attacks. We can avoid mud slinging. We can be accurate. We can maintain decorum, respect, and integrity. We can fight fair. If we are fighting for the right thing, the least we can do is fight in the right way. If we are fighting for justice, the least we can do is fight justly. If we are fighting for that which is good and true, the least we can do is use goodness and truth as the ground not only of our ends but also of our means.

4. Admit to the mystery and complexity of the world. Some folks want to reduce everything in the world to simple formulas. They want to be able to summarize everything in an easy to grasp shorthand. They invariably attribute the doings of history to this, that, or another vast right wing conspiracy. But the fact is that history is full of the indecipherable mysteries of providence, and thus any attempt to reduce the process of its legends, epics, movements, heroes, and villains to a mere mechanical or material science is destined to be more than a little ridiculous—as the sad legacies of Marx, Gibbons, and Toynbee so readily demonstrate. It is true that certain undeniably fixed milestones emerge—like the battles of Hastings and Waterloo, the regicides of Louis XVI and Charles I, the triumphs of Bismarck and Richelieu, and the tragedies of the Hapsburgs and Hoenstauffens—and we can, from them, build up certain vague rules regarding the onward march of civilization. But for the most part, the events of history have the habit of coming up out of nothing, like the little particles of ice which float to surface of the Seine at the beginning of a frost, or like the little oak trees that crop up everywhere like weeds in the broad fields of East Sussex. They arise silently and unpredictably. And that surprises us. It is too easy for us to forget—or to try to ignore—the fact that the doings of man are on the knees of an inscrutable providence. One of the most important and most neglected aspects of the story of men and nations is the fact that the story is not yet complete—and will not be until providence has run its resolute course. We can only truly comprehend the issues and events that swirl around us when we recognize them as part and parcel of the ethical out-working of that inscrutable providence. The irony of this is so large that it may be too large to be seen. To admit as much is the better part of wisdom.

5. Match medium and message. Leaders believe that how they communicate the riches of truth is no less important than what they communicate. As a result they will actually demonstrate the what in the how. Substantive messages should be communicated substantively. An appeal to history ought to be historical. An appeal to morality ought to be moral. Leaders want to effectively communicate. The question is what do they want to communicate? And how do they best go about communicating it? Hilaire Belloc once said, “If you ask me why I put Latin in my writing, it is because I have to show that it is connected with the Universal Fountain and with the European Culture, and with all that heresy combats.” And again, “Note that pendants lose all proportion. They never can keep sane in a discussion. They will go wild on matters they are wholly unable to judge. Never do they use one of those three phrases which keep a man steady and balance his mind; I mean the words (1) After all it is not my business. (2) Tut! Tut! You don't say so! And (3) Credo in Unum Deum Patrem Omnipotentem, Factorem omnium visibilium atque invisibilium; in which last, there is a power of synthesis that can jam all their analytical dust-heap into such a fine, tight, and compact body as would make them stare to see.” In short, the medium ought to match the message and vice versa.

The battle rages. Leaders never relish that fact—but they always recognize it and then act accordingly.

Ron Rolheiser on Father's Day

Father’s Day. What do you celebrate if you lost your father a long time ago?

My father died 38 years ago, I was twenty-two and just beginning to appreciate what an adult relationship to a father could mean. But he died, at age 62, and our family felt his death as a wound that rubbed raw for three months until our mother, even younger than my father, also died. We went numb after that.

But time heals and now, all those years later, everything about my father, including his death, feels warm and gives off a blessing. The same holds true for my mother. There’s a warmth where once there was a wound.

So mostly I don’t miss my father, at least not in the way we normally miss someone we love. I don’t need him in a certain way any more. In the few years that I had him he gave me what he needed to give me and now I know that no matter what I’m doing, good or bad, he is aware of it. That’s frightening too and I wonder if he blinks sometimes as he sees my life.

Remembering him today, on Father’s Day, I realize, more than ever, that I was lucky. He was a good father, and in ways not so immediately evident.

Jesus was once speaking in a crowd when a woman raised her voice and complimented his mother by saying: "Blessed is the womb that bore you and the breast the nursed you!" Jesus didn’t deny that he had a wonderful mother, but added that his mother was wonderful not so much in that she had given him biological birth but especially in that she had given him birth to deeper life. The same could be said about my father. His fatherhood was more than biological.

The externals of his life weren’t extraordinary, though he tended to have a pretty full plate. Besides being a farmer, he was involved deeply in church and community. He worked for much of his life for his favorite political party, was a councillor for the local municipality for many years, and sat occasionally on both the local hospital and school boards. Once he ran for public office, for Reeve of the local municipality (something akin to being a rural mayor) and he lost. It was a tough blow for him. I remember the disappointment in him, even while he was trying to put on a brave face. What hurt was not so much the fact of losing, he didn’t much want the job anyway, but the fact of knowing that the local community preferred someone else to him. There’s pride in us all.

Beyond that, he managed a local baseball team for many years. He loved that but, given local politics, that too was sometimes more of a political joggling act (whose sons got to play and whose didn’t) than a welcome distraction to the everyday grind. But from that I inherited a lifelong love for baseball and would love to have had the chance to go to a major league game sometime with my father.

But what made him outstanding as a father was his personal integrity and his stubborn, uncompromising moral edge. For my father, there were no excuses for moral compromise, for compensating just because you were tired, or confused, or in an over-tempting situation. He issued no exemptions, to you or to himself. The real effort of life, for him, was to measure up, in faith and in moral behavior. It didn’t help to protest that you were human after all and couldn’t be expected to be perfect. His answer: "It’s no great thing being human. Everyone is that! I want someone to show me something that’s divine!"

He made it clear to us, to all of his children, that our lives were not our own, that we were given a vocation from God and that vocation is to give our lives away, even if that means hard sacrifice. I haven’t always lived that perfectly, but his voice inside of me has pushed me always in that direction.

He was a strong, stubborn moral voice, one from which you didn’t easily walk away. But he never bullied, grew nasty or violent, or over-pressured. The pressure came from whom and what he was and, from that, I inherited, I think, more than I wanted. In that moral stubbornness, he was too a reticent man, he didn’t dance easily or with much fluidity. I sense that now in my own life, in my body, in my bones, in my hesitancies, in my over self-consciousness at times, and in my failure sometimes to be able to abandon myself healthily to life.

But that’s who he was and that’s who I am, for better and for worse. He was my father and I carry a lot of his DNA, both the biological and the other.

And, thirty-eight years after his death, I walk in gratitude for that DNA, with both its strengths and its inhibitions.

My fav Russian Photo

This was taken at Tsarkoe Selo near St. Petersburg.

Marina and I had such a wonderful time, and because we never expected to EVER go there, it was also a very Blessed time.

We are thankful!

Back from Russia

Well....we made it safe and sound. The trip was a success...we have commitments to get teachers who will write a complete Russian language curriculum with a Christian Worldview...and some strong interest by a group of Ukrainian teachers to do the same. Once again our trip was filled with divine appointments.

Greg will be returning in August with a small team from our school to train teachers in online course writing, as well as an enhancer. (No, I won't need to be there for this)

Marina and I did have a couple days off to explore St. Petersburg....it was a wonderful time and we saw many amazing things. I've posted most of our photos on Facebook: Here, here and here.

I must say, this being my 5th visit to Russia, that things steadily improve. There is a middle class now. But my heart is still in the country, where poverty and lonliness prevail. I'm hoping that the model of schooling being set up, will also work in the villages..where the need is still great. Thanks for your prayers...and those who sponsored and prayed for me throughout the years and many visits to Russia..know that your committment has paid off!

This wonderful photo of Marina was taken at Peterhof, a palace built by Peter the Great. The lavishness is amazing!

School of Tomorrow

We arrived safely in Russia and have hit the road running, so to speak. The first day was spent in meetings with teachers and then the admin team. We are endeavoring to explain the concepts of online school to them, they are eager to grap the concept, but it is, after all, outside the box.

The school is located in Moscow and is quite a nice facility. Russian law dictates that all schools must provide both breakfast and lunch to students and staff..so we are well taken care of. The student population gets 2 hot meals per day, in keeping with a nutrition chart. It would be an interesting endeavor in Canada to implement.

We are exhausted, though. Marina has had trouble sleeping and adapting to the new time. She is amazed at the Russia she sees...we went into some Moscow kiosks near the metro...very dirty...yet we were in a new mall and it was like any mall in Canada....with differences in the food court of course.

Friday is Victory Day so everything will be closed to mark the victory of Nazism. There will be a big parade which we will try to see...Friday night we will take the train to St. Petersburg.

No word from Stephanie on how they are doing in Mexico...although we did get an email from Mr. Smith saying all is well. Please pray for Steph...and pray for strength for us. See you soon!

PS: We are staying in the missionary apartment with Julie and 2 girls from South Africa. Here is a shot in their kitchen.

Off to Russia

Wow...the time has crept up on us...Marina and I leave today for Russia! It will be Marina's first visit back to the land of her birth since she left in 1976 at the age of 15. She naturally has mixed emotions.

When we arrive there will be lots of meetings, but it looks like we will have the weekend off to explore...so we may be going to St. Petersburg...a dream of Marina's...and a great Mother's Day gift.

Please pray we have a safe trip...that all our meetings go well...that Greg and I will accomplish what needs to be done to get online schooling up and running for this September.

Off to Mexico!

Our Dear Stephanie is on her way to Mexico for 6 weeks!

It's a yearly trip with the school, for kids in Grade 11, where they finish up and complete various course studies and make a difference in the life of a Church and school down in Puerto Escondido.

Steph raised her support herself, and it took a LOT of hard work...and I mean a lot!

I'm proud of her, the goal she set and her willingness to stretch herself to go on this trip.

Please pray for her health, that she will be ok, and that God will use this time to remind her just how much He loves and cares for her!

With a different father in mind

Written by Tony Woodlief May 2, 2008 World Magazine

Lately I’ve grown ashamed of how often I discipline my children out of anger, or annoyance, rather than a genuine desire to train them up. If three year-old Isaac’s repeated thumping of a table leg penetrates my consciousness at dinner, I’ll tell him to stop it out of irritation, not because I want him to have good table manners. If eight year-old Caleb tells me I said A and not B, I’ll glower and tell him not to correct me, as if it’s a principle I’m standing on, rather than my expansive pride. If six year-old Eli mumbles, I’ll snap at him to speak up, not because I am, in that moment, concerned with the development of his elocution, but because it’s consuming mental bandwidth to discern what he’s saying.

My disciplinary actions too often have me at the center — my wants, my ego, my sense of how things ought to be in my domain. I suspect we all fall prey to that impulse from time to time, or perhaps a lot of the time, or perhaps it’s mostly just me. But maybe I’m not the only one who tells himself some subconscious story about the righteous anger of God, to justify my own anger. Maybe other parents repeat to themselves how they’ve tried and tried, in order to justify their barks when the whippersnappers forget yet again to close the back door. Maybe too many of us we pretend that, because our children have become outwardly inured to our browbeating, that our glares and raised voices don’t wound them — worse, that it’s only our anger that gets through their thick little skulls.

So I’ve been practicing patience. Emphasis on “practicing.” When Isaac launches into one of his interminable monologues, right in the middle of a discussion between me and the wife, instead of shushing him, I’m trying get down to his level, put a hand on his small shoulder, and explain that mommy’s talking, and that the polite thing to do is wait his turn. I’m also trying to listen more, to really look him in the eye and stop whatever I’m doing and just listen, so he feels less inclined to interrupt just to be heard. I’m trying to patiently, lovingly guide my children, rather than gripe at them so much.

But there’s so much work to do, isn’t there? There’s bills and laundry and the daily grind of jobs, and meals to be made and dishes to be washed, lawns to mow, and — in our case — fallen trees to cut up and rooms to paint and essays and books to write. There’s much to be done, and it’s so much easier just to shush them or glare at them or talk over them to make my point and get my way.

Yet if you were to ask me what is the most important thing I have to do here on earth, I would say it’s training up my sons. So I’m going to start trying harder to act like it. I’m praying the Lord will have mercy — on me, on them — every time I fail.