Vincent Van Gogh and Other Prophets

This sermon was preached at Glebe-St. James United Church on July 8, 2012.  Right now, at the National Gallery of Canada is an amazing exhibition called Van Gogh: Up Close.  When I went to see it, I had no idea that Van Gogh actually wanted to be a minister.  His paintings pushed me to learn more about him, the Christian.  What I learned inspired this sermon.

“Van Gogh and Other Prophets”                                               Mark 6: 1-13

 by Rev. Dr. Christine Johnson

In June, I went to see the Van Gogh: Up Close exhibition at the National Gallery of Canada.

I was expecting to see some amazing art made by an under-appreciated artist in his own time.

I did see that, but I also found out about Van Gogh, the Christian,

                a prophet who was rejected by his own brother Christians of the day.

I was struck to the core of my being with the spirituality of Van Gogh’s paintings.

And this revelation led me to learn more about Vincent Van Gogh the person.

It’s amazing how Van Gogh’s story relates to the story of Jesus sending out his disciples,

                but in a sad kind of way.

Jesus, after teaching and leading his followers,

                sends the disciples out to do what Jesus knows they can do.

He wants them to travel lightly and to lean on the care of others.

The story says Jesus “gave them authority to cast out unclean spirits.”

And further, he gives them their marching orders.

“Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.”

There’s no retaliation, no retribution – there’s simply a letting go,

 and an acknowledgement their message is not welcome here.

By shaking off the dust of an unwelcome place,

                the dust does not cling, making them resentful or sullen.

So they go out and proclaim that all should repent.

They are able to do as Jesus did.

They cast out many demons, and anoint with oil many who are sick and cure them.

Jesus does not keep his divine power to himself but shares it,

                and expects his disciples to share it as well.

At the exhibition, I learned that Van Gogh was a PK,

                which is a short form for Preacher’s Kid.

His father was a pastor in the Dutch Reformed Church,

                and Vincent grew up feeling a call to ministry.

After three years of working for a Dutch art dealer,

he writes these words to his brother Theo:

“God has sent me to preach the Gospel to the poor.”

For the next three years van Gogh single-mindedly pursues his calling to the ministry,

 first as a student of theology

 and then as a missionary to the coal miners in the Belgian Borinage.

Deeply moved by the poverty surrounding him, van Gogh gives all his possessions,

 including most of his clothing, to the miners.

An inspector of the Evangelization Council of the Dutch Reformed Church

comes to the conclusion that the missionary’s excessive zeal borders on the scandalous,

and he reports van Gogh’s behavior to church authorities.

Although van Gogh is successful in his ministry,

 the hierarchy of the Dutch Reformed Church reject him,

and at the end of 1879 he leaves the church, embittered and impoverished.

So here’s the twist.

Van Gogh is rejected by the religious authorities of his day

                for doing the very thing Jesus tells his disciples to do.

However, history tells us it is not so easy for Van Gogh to shake the dust off his feet.

According to Kathleen Powers Erickson,

                who wrote the book, “At Eternity’s Gate:  The Spiritual Vision of Vincent Van Gogh”

                many art historians and critics say that at this point Van Gogh rejects all things religious.

She, however, disagrees. 

Van Gogh, after a time of deep distress,

                answers another call – that of pursuing his artistic gifts.

He writes to his brother:

                “"Even in that deep misery I felt my energy revive, and I said to myself, in spite of everything I shall rise again: I will take up my pencil, which I had forsaken in my discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing. From that moment everything has seemed transformed for me."

Kathleen Edwards has this to say about his conversion from religion to art:

“Although most of van Gogh’s biographers view this transition as a rejection of religion, in fact art rather than preaching became van Gogh’s chief form of religious expression. His faith in God and eternity as well as his respect for unadorned piety and the word of God remained firm.”

In discovering and pursuing his artistic path, Van Gogh finally succeeds in shaking the dust off his feet.

And God finds another way to use his incredible talent to express what Van Gogh called

                “the white ray of light.”

For van Gogh, belief in God did not mean believing all the sermons of the clergy

 or in his words "the arguments of the bigoted, genteel prudes,"

 but rather there was a God,

 "not dead or stuffed, but alive, urging us to love, with irresistible force."

Thus, Van Gogh pursued his art with his former religious zeal and mission, claiming,

"Our purpose is self-reform by means of a handicraft and of intercourse with Nature

 -- our aim is walking with God."

As I looked at the artworks that were in the exhibition at the National Gallery,

                I was struck by the energy, the light, the sheer genius of the way he used his brushstrokes.

The paintings drew me in, and I felt like I could look at them for hours.

The artist in me wants to know how.

How did he do it? How did he choose his colours? How did he choose his inspiration?  How did he lay down the sketch and then the colours?

The Christian in me wants to know why.

Why did he frame the painting that way?  What is he trying to communicate? What is God trying to say through the art of Vincent Van Gogh?

We know a lot about the life of Vincent because he wrote a lot of letters to his brother, Theo.

And so art historians have a lot of information about where he was, and what he was doing,

                and the mental illness that led him to a time in an asylum.

But all that information sometimes distracts us from simply allowing the art to speak for the artist.

When I stand in front of a Van Gogh painting,

                the world seems to vibrate with power and possibility.

Van Gogh captures the light of God reflected in the minutiae of nature,

                in the flowers, the trees, the fields, the gardens.

The light shines forth and the darkness does not overcome it.

He reaches deep into his soul and addressed the darkness of existence,

                as he does in the painting “The Potato Eaters.”

He’s willing to tell the truth, and to sketch the injustices of the world,

                and to express his deepest fears,

                but he also stands in awe of the great beauty and wonder that is at our fingertips,

                                IF ONLY WE CAN SEE IT.

Repressive Christian piety hurt him greatly

but in the process of that disappointment, he finds another, more liberating way.

His paintings, his artwork, are simply about trying to find a way to “walk with God.”

I believe there is more God in one painting of Vincent Van Gogh,

                then there is in a thousand sermons.

Yes, the church rejects him

                but that doesn’t matter in the slightest to God.

God uses his talent and abilities to profoundly impact the way we see the world.

To me, Vincent Van Gogh is another prophet in a long line of God’s prophets.

In the moment of their ministry, prophets are rejected by the people who are closest to them,

who know them, and live with them in their hometown.

But like Jesus, like the disciples, like all the prophets before Jesus,

                this rejection doesn’t stop Vincent Van Gogh.

It isn’t easy, and he struggles greatly,

                even, some say, to the point of taking his own life.

But like the prophets who use persuasive words, 

Van Gogh uses his art to express his relationship with God,

                and his deep respect and compassion for all those around him.

His art says, as he says himself,

there is a God “not dead or stuffed, but alive, urging us to love, with irresistible force."

Desperation and Her Daughters

Here's my sermon from July 1, 2012, our Canada Day.  It was greatly inspired by my experience at the Wild Goose Festival in North Carolina.

“Desperation and Her Daughters”                    Mark 5: 21-43

by Rev. Dr. Christine Johnson

Desperation is the driver of this story.

Jairus is desperate about his daughter.

The unnamed woman is desperate about her condition.

Desperation will lead us to do anything.

Jairus falls down on the path, probably getting a mouth full of dirt in the process,

            and begs Jesus to come to his sick daughter.

The unnamed woman ventures forth in a crowd,

            knowing that by just being there she is making others “unclean.”

Then, she does something she’s not supposed to do.

She, a woman, reaches out and touches the garment of a man.

She steals his healing power, so to speak.

She is desperate enough to break all the rules.

Desperation is the driver of many of our stories.

We get desperate about our children,

            worried they won’t be able to make their own way,

            worried when they get sick.

Recently, a young woman from Barrhaven was so desperate to find a lung donor,

            she began a campaign to encourage everyone to become an organ donor,

            so that if life circumstances, an accident or other crisis, led to your untimely death,

            you can help another person to live.

Desperation drives many married couples to bad behaviour.

Men will sometimes hunt down their estranged spouses in order to hurt or kill them.

That’s why we have women’s shelters, the locations of which are not well known.

Women might do harm as well, or use the children as pawns in the settlement.

Or, both spouses, before any talk of separation, might seek out other sexual partners,

            in order to fulfil the deep desires that are raging within them.

When Jesus is confronted by the desperation of Jairus,

            he responds by following him.

But in the process of trying to get through a crowd of people,

            Jesus gets interrupted.

He feels that someone has touched him in a needy kind of way.

He stops to confront the person.

Now, in our Bible it reads,

            “He looked all around to see who had done it.”

In the original Greek,

            it should really read, “Jesus glared at the people around him.”

That prompts the woman to come to him in fear and trembling,

falling down before him, and telling him the whole truth.

A glance would not have engendered this response,

            but a glare would have.

That glare tells me that Jesus is probably a bit desperate too.

He’s desperate to get to Jairus’ daughter

            but other desperate people won’t leave him alone.

But Jesus does stop, and does listen, and ends up blessing the unknown woman.

But then, on to the next thing…

And when he comes to Jairus’ house,

            he’s told the daughter has died.

At that point, Jesus is probably ready to throw up his hands,

            desperation and exacerbation tempting him to give up.

But he doesn’t do that.

He finds a way to go from death to life,

            from desperation to hope,

            from Good Friday to Resurrection.

Jairus’ 12-year-old daughter is healed.

The unknown woman, who has been bleeding for as long as Jairus’ daughter has been alive,

that is, 12 years, is also healed.

The older women is given her life back

            and the younger woman is given a chance to live, and ultimately, create life.

That’s Jesus ministry: to heal so that others can also heal, so that life in its fullest can flourish.

What I’ve learned in my travels over the past two weeks,

            is that we are a desperate church in need of healing.

We want to help others, but the traditions and structures of our church often get in the way.

When desperate people interrupt our precious work,

            we glare at them and they become so frightened they run the other way.

We want to spend time writing policies and procedures

            when perhaps hosting a potluck lunch would have a bigger impact.

We want to have the worship experience that WE need,

            rather than allowing worship experiences that speak to broader needs.

We want young people to come to our churches

            so they can experience church like we used to do,

            rather than what the young people want or need.

Some churches say “no food or drink” in the sanctuary,

            meanwhile the table is supposed to be at the centre of our faith.

We want to talk theology and the intricacies of the Bible,

            when a lot of people just need a friendly voice to say “hi, how are you?”

We want to be an inclusive church,

            and we’re not unfriendly,

            but when new people come to our church and even have the courage to stay for coffee,

            we just ignore them.

What I learned about this desperate church could fill volumes.

Desperate churches chase after every newfangled strategy out there.

They buy books, have study groups, do demographic surveys, even hire a consultant.

But what desperate churches aren’t doing is listening to the

            very stories that have upheld us for centuries.

Desperate churches aren’t chasing down Jesus,

            and falling at his feet and saying repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.”

That’s what desperate churches need to do.

They need Jesus to lay his hands on them.

They need to be in the business of discerning God’s call for their ministries.

Churches should be about healing the world and letting the spirit speak.

Churches are not about policies and procedures and who can rent from us and who can’t.

They are not just about taking care of the building.

They are about using the building as a vehicle,

            a vehicle that can be used and if necessary, abused, so that we stand

at the intersection of justice, spirituality, and the arts.

That’s the motto of the Wild Goose Festival,

            a festival in North Carolina

 that is trying to undo a lot of the Christian crap we’ve inherited.

And I’ve come back a changed person.

What I learned at Wild Goose is that people are tired of mean Christians.

Mean Christians wag their finger instead of giving others a hand up.

Mean Christians would rather be right than be helpful.

Mean Christians fight against tax breaks for the poor, and work so the rich get richer.

Mean Christians don’t want to give proper health care to destitute refugees.

Mean Christians call people of other faiths names.

Mean Christians even call other Christians names.

I want to work to allow Jesus to heal the desperate people in this world.

I want to become a golden rule church.

I want the only rule of this church to be the golden rule,

            that is, we treat others the way we want to be treated.

I want this to be a church where belief in a certain way is not a requirement.

I want this to be a church where kind and loving action is the only rule.

I pray the era of the Jesus-centred, loving and open Christian is about to begin.

On Canada Day, it’s important for us to take back our faith,

            to proudly and unapologetically proclaim the goodness and grace of God.

This is what makes Canada just as amazing place.

We proclaim loving kindness and compassion as our way.

Desperation about the economy or the unemployment rate should not

            undermine these essential values.

Desperation drives all of us – sometimes to bad behaviour,

            and sometimes to asking for what we really really need.

Desperation and her daughters aren’t putting up with the old ways anymore.

They have their faces in the dirt begging Jesus to come and lay his hands on them

so they can all be made well, and live.

Maybe we’ll have the courage to do the same.

Raw and Raving -- The New Religious

It all started with Henry Rollins from Black Flag, a hardworking punk rock band from the 1980s and beyond.  There he was at the front of Dominion-Chalmers United Church, a brass celtic cross behind him, and a soaring sky-light dome above him.  I should of known a force of nature was about to blast on to the stage when the guy who introduced Rollins warned us to use the facilities now! because the spoken-word performance would be two-and-a-half hours.  I thought, "How can anyone talk non-stop for that long?"  But it didn't take long to realize that Rollins could talk non-stop for hours as long as he had an audience that will listen.  He talked about touring, playing in Black Flag, getting older, answering his fan's emails, making a documentary for National Geographic, wrestling crocodiles, drinking cow urine, political campaigns, homophobia, his opposition against the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, traveling to North Korea to see it for himself, and encouraging the young people in the audience to create the century they want.  I felt like a power, a spirit I might say, was pinning me to my pew, raising my heart rate and hoping he'd never stop talking.  That night I believe Rollins, a self-professed atheist, had more gospel in him than I do in my little finger.

That's kinda scary given I've been a preacher of the gospel for over 16 years.  It was his energy, his sheer force of character, his no bullshit, no holds barred, truth telling.  I'm glad I was there with my husband, a punk rocker the original time around who also happens to be the minister of this church. He was able to peel me off the pew and guide me like a blind woman to our car.  All I could think was "that's the kind of preaching I'd like to be able to do."

Not sure what the Spirit's blowing around this warm June, but that was only a portent of what was to come.  A few days later, I was in Toronto attending a conference and spreading the gospel of art as a spiritual vehicle.  Nice, but an appetizer to the main course I had the next day.

Enter Paul Browning, a United Church minister in London, Ontario, who plays a mean piano, sings like a rock star, and cares a lot about Jesus.  He talked about his last chance United Church, a church willing to go on an adventure with him.  Before he agreed to go there, he gave them his vision.  "When you're at a family dinner, who do you take care of first?  The children.  If your grandson tells you he's getting married to his boyfriend, and even if you don't agree with his decision, would you go?  Yes, you'd go.  In families, do you all like the same music?  No, and that's okay.  In families, do you all eat the same food? No.  So if you want a healthy church, you'll accept each other as you are WITHOUT COMPLAINING!"

So Paul builds a church based on one rule -- the Golden Rule.  You can believe anything you want as long as you treat others as you want them to treat you.  Kindness and respect are the measure of membership.  A woman came to him and said she was a Pagan.  "That's okay," he said.  They have Christians, Zoroastrians,  Buddhists, atheists, agnostists, and not sures.  They now call their church Trinity United Church and Community Centre.  No one pays to use the space and free will offerings are only a suggestion.  Music is supplied by a band and the service centers on the children for the first 40 minutes.  Their local city Councillor recently praised them as a force for good in their neighbourhood, describing their ministry in his regular newsletter.

Four days later, I'm in Shakori Hills, North Carolina at the Wild Goose Festival.  My ears are still buzzing from Henry and Paul and I feel there's a wild fire about to burn.  Well, I was so right!!!!

Wild Goose is a celtic metaphor for the wildness of the spirit and man, it was definitely raw and raving.  The number one message: people are tired of mean Christians.  Phyllis Tickle said it.  Brian McLaren said it.  Frank Shaeffer said it.  Phil Madeira, guitarist for Emmy-lou Harris and the producer of a great album called, "Mercyland: Hymns for the Rest of Us," said it.

In small group Bible discussions, it was said. Poetics were writing poems about it.  One poet from Australia actually had a poem in which he confessed all the horrible things that Christianity had done.

The music by Agents of Future, from Portland, Oregon, and David Wimbish and The Collection, from Greensboro North Carolina, spoke of faith irreverently and poignantly.  With pulsating drums and multiple instruments a la Arcade Fire, song lyrics were more shouted than sung.  But oh, the passion, the joy.

Social justice, especially restorative justice in the American prison system, was on the front burner.  So were the arts, praying with paint and canvas.  Walking a peace labyrinth with a piece of barbed wire in your hand.   And it was just downright fun.  Beer and Hymns was magical as we sang at the top of our lungs, a hymn sheet in one hand and a glass of Fullsteam beer in the other. 

Their were more dreadnaughts and tattoos and piercings than I've seen in a long time.  And the children...they danced, and ran through a fire hose on their way to the slip and slide, played hide and go seek, and made prayer cards. 

It was raw and a bit raving but people were fed up with Christians that think they have a right to all the resources in the world.  At this festival, kindness and deep respect for others was the only rule.  As Melvin Bray said at the beginning, "If you've come to this festival with a hard-line position that you want to get across, you should treat this gathering as a silent retreat."  No one was there to convince or to prove they followed "correct" thinking. 

A motley crew of wise elders, old hippies, aging punk rockers, recovering fundamentalists, families of all colours with children of all ages were here to blow all the barriers down.  It might be a fleeting glimpse of what the new religious looks like but it all happened in the same month in three far-flung places.

Raw and raving and heart warming and wonderful and it's about time!

  

This sermon was preached at Dominion-Chalmers United Church on June 10, 2012.  It was the 100th anniversary of the laying of the cornerstone of the Chalmers Presbyterian Church, which later became Chalmers United Church. It was also the 50th anniversary of the amalgamation of Chalmers United Church and Dominion United Church. 

“Shifting Foundations”                  Ezra 3: 10-13; Mark 13: 1-8

by Rev. Dr. Christine Johnson

There’s a lot of intrigue when it comes to the building of the second temple in Jerusalem.

One king gives a decree that it’s okay for the Jewish people to build,

                then the next one withdraws it and so the building is stopped,

                then the next one goes into the archives and finds the original decree,

                and the building is resumed.

If you read the entire book of Ezra, you’ll soon discover

this construction project is way bigger than the materials,

                or the money,

                or the expertise to build it. 

You see, these people had lost the first temple, the temple built by Solomon.

This great temple had been destroyed by invading armies and

the leaders of the Jewish people dragged away to Persia.

The Jewish people not only lost their temple,

                they lost their freedom, their dignity, their religion, and their gathering place.

So, when modern people say, “a church is only bricks and mortar”

                I point them back to this story.

A church is about the people who are in it, the work they are doing,

                the people who have been part of it, and the people who will be part of it in the future.

A building is a tool,

                a tool for freedom, for dignity, for religion, a gathering place of God’s people.

For 100 years, this building has stood as a beacon of God’s light in the world.

For 100 years, it has been a gathering place for Christians who are seeking solace,

                or education, or fun, or friends.

For 100 years, Dominion-Chalmers United Church has welcomed the stranger,

                fed the hungry and clothed the naked.

In this building, an amalgamation was born out of the tragedy of a devastating fire.

For 50 years, the people from Dominion United joined the people of Chalmers United,

one traditionally Methodist,  the other traditionally Presbyterian,

to form a new downtown ministry.

For 50 years, the legacies of these two dynamic churches have become your legacy.

An anniversary such as this is a great time of celebration,

                and also an excellent time for reflection.

For today, we’re not just celebrating a fine building with all its accoutrements.

We’re celebrating the hard work and tenacity of the people of God

                to be open to God’s spirit working in the world.

And so as much as the building is a tool and an anchor

                there’s a temptation for us to forget that the doors are not to be locked against the hoards,

                but to serve as an invitation, a gateway into the heart of God.

I think this was Jesus’ point as he walked outside the temple in Jerusalem.

The building of this new third temple had only begun in Jesus’ lifetime.

The first temple, built by Solomon, had been destroyed.

And the second temple, built with  the purse of King Cyrus of Persia,

                had also been destroyed.

Jesus knew the precarious history of the temples of Jerusalem,

                and had seen first-hand what a religious building can do to its religious leadership.

Jesus lamented  the greed of the temple priests,

                the perversion of laws that were a barrier to healing and peace,

                the lust for power and control,

                the rejection of the poor and unclean.

He knows that trouble is coming and it won’t be pretty.  

He knows there will be war and rumours of wars,

                nation rising against nation,

                earthquakes, and famines.

Yes, he says, this temple will fall,

                but that’s when new birth takes place.

As DCUC celebrates this milestone, and as your friends from GSJ, know all too well,

                the gift of a building, 

                a gift given to future generations by hardworking and God-loving people,

                is both a blessing and a curse.

For 100 year old buildings have arthritis in the knees and bulging discs in its spine.

The roof leaks, even when it’s just been repaired.

The drainage system around the foundation gets old and has to be replaced.

Paint needs refreshing and furniture replaced.

Heating bills have to be paid and stained glass windows re-leaded.

And so now is the moment when we ask

                the most important question of all.

Why do we take care of our buildings and pour our heart and soul into them?

If you say because they’re beautiful,

                I can show you a lot of beautiful buildings.

If you say ‘I want to have a place for my funeral,

                or for my children’s marriages,

                or to baptize my children,’ there are churches on every corner for that purpose.

If you say I want to honour my ancestors,

Jesus said “let the dead bury the dead.”

If you say I want to preserve the building for the future,

                Jesus said “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”

What would be good reasons to pour our heart and soul into our buildings?

If you say God longs for us to use this building as a tool of love, compassion and caring,

                you’re on the right track.

If you say God wants us to be a physical and real presence of grace in the downtown core of Ottawa,

                I’m listening.

If you say we want to use our building to facilitate healing, wholeness and good relationships,

                mmmm, you’re on to something really good.

If you say, we can offer this facility for all the arts groups in the city to share the creative gifts

 because we believe the arts are an expression of God’s inspiration,

                let’s talk.

If you say, by preaching a real gospel in response to real needs,

                I’d say, “Hallelujah.”

If you say, this building serves God’s purposes at this time and in this particular place,

                in the national’s capital, in the shadow of Parliament Hill,

                I’d say, “Yes, you’ve got it.”

I’m always listening to anti-building arguments.

We have too many.

They’re too big.

We spend too much money on them.

We worship our buildings.

Our buildings stop us from doing good ministry...and the list goes on and on.

It is true,

                the foundations of our faith are shifting.

We just don’t have large groups of people flocking to our churches.

It is hard to pay the bills,

                to resist the temptation to want to preserve our buildings for its own sake.

The whole Christian church is undergoing a great deal of upheaval.

Sunday morning is not longer the sacred hour.

Missiologists tell us to get out of our buildings and into the street. 

New music, new worship forms, new ways of expressing our faith

                run up against a lot of resistance from tradition and traditionalists.

In fact, one term that has been used to describe this is “the worship wars.”

Whenever you purchase a house, or any building,

                it is wise to spend extra money on a building inspector.

One of their main jobs is to determine whether the foundation is sound.

The last thing you want when buying a new house,

                are cracks in the foundation, or shifting foundations.

Without a sound foundation, the rest of the house is vulnerable to major damage.

So, today, as we celebrate the milestone of 100 years in this building,

                as we celebrate 50 years of amalgamation,

                all of us need to answer this question as well.

Are we on a firm foundation?

Is it sound?

There will always be mixed feelings about buildings.

In the book of Ezra,

                at the moment the cornerstone is laid,

                the sounds of joy and crying are mixed together in such a way

                “that the people could not distinguish the sounds of the joy

 from the sound of the people’s weeping.”

The elders lamented the loss of the first temple,

and the exiled generation, the ones who had never seen the temple,

were overjoyed to see the temple rise again.

As Dominion-Chalmers goes forward into its future,

                this verse might serve to remind all of you that it was never easy,

                                nor will it be now.

And yet, no matter the emotion,

                whether joy or sorrow,

                they cared.

They cared so much that the sounds mingled and were indistinguishable

                ‘for the people shouted so loudly that the sound was heard far away.’

In the year of our Lord, 2012,

                in a world of computers and instant communication,

                does this building serve God’s purposes rather than our own?

Do you care so much, whether joy or sorrow, that you’re willing to make some noise?

God’s purposes are the rock upon which true life is built.

If this church is built on the sands of our own egos,

                it will come crumbling down. 

So, it’s not about the money, or the beauty, or the rites of passage,

                it’s not about the concerts, or church functions, or endless meetings.

If this building is built on the rock of God’s spirit of love and forgiveness,

                it will stand forever.

And if there’s troubles, or challenges, or cultural earthquakes,

                take heart, for these might just be the beginning of the birth pangs

                of something new and wonderful

and so amazing that we won’t want to miss a thing.