Excerpts From: The Messenger |
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Once again welcome to our study on Forgiveness (breaking the cycle of hate and violence). Forgiveness is hard to grasp and difficult to understand, and yet it is something we should do for our own good. Forgiveness not only makes us whole once again, it energizes us and makes our world more beautiful than ever. In my case, I have always been hurt a lot easier than I used to admit to and in the past, instead of healing my hurt, I would deny it.
I believed I should not be hurt so easily. The problem with this denial is that it created secret resentments and I experienced discouragement so deep within me that it almost incapacitated me. Learning to forgive has made all the difference. As someone once said, "Forgiveness isn't about letting the offender off the hook. It's all about taking the knife out of your soul".
A flippant remark in which we may not mean any harm can be taken the wrong way and how often do we forget Jesus' words in John 13:34, "A new command I give you: Love one another." In all that we do, say or think, Jesus is commanding us to love one another and by doing so we are to witness His love to all. Therefore, any answer we give is always to be given with love, never in degrading terms. This is perfectly stated in 1 Peter 3:14-16 -- But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord.
Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect. Knowing this, knowing Jesus' command, knowing how he died for our sins… nailed, pierced and bleeding on the cross and how He said of those that put Him there, "Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing." How then, can we possibly hold a grudge against anyone, let alone our brothers and sisters whom we break bread together in Christ?
Everyday we are confronted with horrific stories of evil around the world. These people were not born terrorists or killers. What happened to cause this change?
What led to this infection of sin that erupted into horrific, evil activities?
This change did not come about because these people had come to know forgiveness in their lives.
In his book, "The Body", Charles Colson, writes: In 1960, Israeli undercover agents kidnapped one of the worst Holocaust masterminds, Adolph Eichmann and transported him to Israel to stand trial. Among the witnesses was a small, haggard man Yehiel Dinur.
Yehiel Dinur miraculously escaped death in Auschwitz. On his day to testify, Dinur entered the courtroom and stared at the man in the bullet-proof glass booth -- The man who murdered Dinur's friends, personally executed a number of Jews, and presided over the slaughter of millions more. As the eyes of the two met -- victim and murderous tyrant -- the courtroom fell silent, filled with the tension of the confrontation. But no one was prepared for what happened next.
Yehiel Dinur began to shout and sob, collapsing to the floor. Was he overcome by hatred -- by the horrifying memories -- by the evil incarnate in Eichmann's face? No. As he later explained in a riveting "60 Minutes" interview it was because Eichmann was not the demonic personification of evil Dinur had expected.
Rather, he was an ordinary man, just like any one else. And in that one instant, Dinur came to the stunning realization that sin and evil are the human condition. "I was afraid about myself," Dinur said. "I saw that I am capable to do this...exactly like he." Dinur's remarkable statement caused Mike Wallace to turn to the camera and ask the audience the most painful of all questions. "How is it possible ... for a man to act as Eichmann acted? ... Was he a monster? A madman? Or was he perhaps something even more terrifying... Was he normal?"
If anyone could hold a grudge after being severely oppressed it could be this man, this Yehiel Dinur, yet he could understand sin and sinner, and he could see that Eichmann is in all of us. One of our human tendencies is our ability, compulsion, and need to rate everything -- we rate the movies: the more popcorn boxes the better the movie; we rate life styles, we rate success, we rate sports teams, athletes, eggs, people, and corn. You name it and we will put a rating on it.
As human beings, one of the most dangerous and destructive things that Satan leads us to do is rate sin. By doing so we can always rate someone else's sin as worse than our own. However, we will someday find out that "anyone who hates his brother is a murderer." (1 John 3:15a)
A sobering moment when we see our rating system breaking down and realize that to God sin, is sin, no rating, no five popcorn boxes for murder, and one for hate. (Mk. 7:21-23) Nothing like that ...just sin… plain and simple... hate, murder, envy, slander, pride, deceit, adulteries, covetousness, theft, immorality, wickedness all in the same package ...one is equal to the other.
When it comes to forgiveness, it is far better to have a small amount of the real thing than massive quantities of the fake stuff." Until then take care and have a blessed Lenten season !
Yours in Christ,
Pastor Samuel King-Kabu
Our Condolences go out to Jette and family as they mourn the loss of her mother, Bente Stoffregen. May God be with you at this time.
Bente Stoffregen:
Bente was born on March 26, 1920, the second child and only daughter of Anders
and Thyra Silbye. After graduating from school she studied to be a nurse,
funding her studies by working at the telephone company in Copenhagen.
After WW2 was over she married her childhood friend, Henning Stoffregen who had
recently returned from Germany where he was stationed in Hamburg at the Danish
Consulate during the war. Shortly after the wedding, Henning started working at
the Embassy in Reykjavik, Iceland. Bente, who hadn’t quite finished her nursing
studies, followed him a few months later.
Bente did some office work at the Embassy until her children Jette and Mikael were born. After 7 years in Iceland, the family were sent to Athens, Greece, where, in time, Marianne was born. Henning and Bente made the acquaintance of many Danish artists while in Greece (one of which is Grethe Bagge, who became a close friend), as well as other Danes that lived and worked in Greece at the time. One of these was Dagny Kjærsgård, a Danish author, another was Knud Kristensen, who started a dairy in Tatoï, where the Greek Royal family had a summer residence.
It was not until 1957 – 1961 that Bente was able to ply her trade as a nurse, while the family lived in the Østerbro part of Copenhagen.
Henning was posted to the Danish Consulate in Montreal from 1961 until his retirement in 1984, at which point he decided to sell their house and move back to Denmark.
For Bente it was a very painful decision to leave 2 of her children behind as well as her grandchildren. While in Montreal, Henning and Bente made many lifelong friendships and attended St. Ansgar’s Church.
Henning passed away in Denmark in 1999. Bente had a bout with Cancer in 1998 but everyone thought it was licked. In 2005 Bente had a stroke from which she never really recovered. After that, her health became fragile. After Christmas 2006 it was discovered that the pain Bente had been suffering from was not osteoporosis, but the cancer that had reared its ugly head again. She had surgery two times within a week, followed by radiation therapy. It was a downhill battle. Bente passed away, mercifully, in her sleep on February 9, 2007.
She leaves her two brothers, Ib (91 years old) and Ole (81), her three children, 3 grandsons, two daughters-in-law, 4 great grandchildren (plus 2 more on the way) and 6 nieces and nephews to mourn her passing. Bente was a warm family person and friend, one you could always come to for help. She will be sorely missed. If anyone would like to remember Bente, you can send a cheque to St. Ansgar’s church memorial fund in her name.
My Honduras trip was a relative success. We (the team) managed to build at least 3 quarters of the house, and we even had to lay the foundation. That was the most challenging part as we had to construct rebar (the metal posts which strengthen the joints of the house), pour cement into the trough lines of the house and then start laying the bricks. We also had to move over 1000
30-pound cinder blocks from a different site, 2 blocks away (we had a truck) and shovel 2 huge loads of dirt into the house floors to prepare them for pouring the cement to make the floors (which we didn't have to do, mercifully!) and other jobs. My favorite was stuffing mortar between the blocks and laying them. It was gratifying to watch the walls go slowly up. We also had a lot of help...all the neighborhood kids pitched in! On the last day, we gave them all soccer balls and toy cars and then played a soccer game with them, and they ‘kicked our butts’!
Halfway through the trip, we all packed up and spent the weekend on Roatan, an island in the Caribbean, just off the coast of La Ceiba, where we were working. It was quite touristic, but I enjoyed the beaches and the sun (where I evened out my farmer's tan, ha-ha), then it was back to work again. Marcos, the man who would be living in the house with his wife, Sorya and their 5 yr old son, Andreas, worked with us everyday. They are involved with Amor y Vida; an organization which creates group homes for children living with HIV. I plan to help them raise some money this year, so I will keep you all posted on future fundraising events. If anyone is interested, the web site is www.amoryvidahn.com and there is an English page. The website for Habitat Honduras is www.gvhonduras.com I believe...if I'm wrong, simply go to the Habitat site www.habitat.org and follow the links to different country affiliates to find Honduras. The people who worked with us at Habitat La Ceiba, were great and can always use donations; monetary or items from their wish list (in website). To all who donated to help me go on this mission, a million thank you's. It was hard work, but worth it...these are people who have so little but are spiritually rich; they work incredibly hard for what they have but are still grateful.
Peace and love,
Mari
When I awoke to my watch alarm at 05:00 and gazed outside my small tent, I was delighted to see that the sun was coming up. All was still dripping wet from the previous day's downpour, but I managed to pack up reasonably well and was ready to set out at 07:00. Unfortunately, I had to wait until the pro shop (for my campsite had been at a golf course) opened at 07:15, in order to get back my $30 key deposit (The campground washrooms were locked so that only campers, and no golfers, could use them.)
Although technically in Belle River, I still had a ways to go before actually coming to the town itself. The town's main street was, interestingly, called 'Notre Dame'. It was a sleepy town at 08:00, but I came upon a breakfast nook called 'Edna's Place', which was packed. I was greeted with "You like it breakfast?" by this tiny and elderly little Slavic lady who was serving the entire restaurant single-handed.
After breakfast, I explored to the end of the town's pier, jutting out into the waters of Lake Saint Claire. The whole town seemed to be gathered at the pier for some sort of children's fishing contest.
Riding westward, I encountered a series of short beachfront streets, each broken after a few blocks by the mouth of a creek. At each break, I would have to ride back up to the main road in order to cross the bridge and then return along the far side. These sections were lined with tiny, working-class beachfront cottages and backed by the main railroad line from Windsor.
When I rode back up to the highway at the town of Puce, I found the main highway itself approached the lakefront at the far side of the bridge. Gone was the working man's beach. The tree-lined boulevard was lined with vast, expensive estates. As I got nearer and nearer the city, the estates became ever more modest until, at the town of Tecumseh, they had become simply large, expensive city homes.
At the Tecumseh-Windsor line, I found a small waterfront park, barely a sliver between two fenced property lines. It was my first direct access to the lake since leaving the Belle River pier. I could see the far, Michigan shore angling southwards towards me as I glanced to the west.
A bike path began at the Windsor line, but it ran on the inside of the boulevard and was well separated from the water. After a short way, I came upon thousands of cars parked all over the grass and just about anywhere. I heard loudspeakers. It was a huge union party at a lakeshore park. I had to dismount and walk my bike through the crowds. Beyond the park, I lost access to the waterfront again. I finally abandoned the bike trail to ride along 'Riverside Drive'. When I came out the beginning of Windsor's well-groomed waterfront, I was across from Belle-Isle, a Detroit island park.
Riding along the waterfront was great! Tour boats from Detroit came by and the tourists waved to me. Once I was past Belle-Isle, I could see the industrial Detroit waterfront on the far side. I passed by the remains of rail ferry docks. (The last time I had visited Windsor itself, rather than just driving by, had been in the early 70s. I remember standing on the promenade and watching the dozens of rail ferries loading and departing on almost a minute-by-minute basis, as long freight trains were broken up and pushed out onto the boats.) Now the promenade was along the old rail lines, of which no trace remained.
I passed by the big Windsor casino, directly across from the glassy towers of the Detroit Plaza. The Detroit River was a bright blue-green and was thick with boats: Pleasure craft, freighters and tour boats. I could see Detroit's monorail people movers following their airborne paths. It looked like the far side was as much a waterfront park as the Windsor side. (Which was a far cry from how I remembered it during a Detroit visit in the early 80s.)
I took a short detour into downtown Windsor and discovered it was at least ten degrees hotter than along the cool waterfront. It was very stifling and I did not stay long. The waterfront park came to an end underneath the International Bridge. There was this old, black fisherman who was being given a ticket for having two fishing poles in the water at once. The ticketing officer was kind enough to tell me how to bypass the freeway soup that was the beginning of the shoreline highway south of Windsor.
I ended up riding through this old, abandoned industrial park. Trees and grass had overrun all the former factories. Across the river was the massive 'Rouge River' plant of Ford Motors. Pipes stuck into the ground at regular intervals issued forth what looked like steam. I caught a whiff of this noxious vapour at one point and almost passed out. I was glad to get out to the highway.
Past the Racetack, the traffic lessened and soon I was back along the water, riding south along the Detroit River. The far side was all waterfront cottages and private boat docks, just like the Canadian side. I came upon an Indian cemetery with a monument to the allied Indians who had been settled here after the War of 1812.
My destination for the day was Amherstburg, within sight of the mouth of the Detroit River. This picturesque old town housed a fort and had many blocks of historic buildings along its old waterfront. It had been a haven for blacks during the days of the Underground Railroad, when they would jump ship off the steamboats connecting Sandusky, Ohio and Detroit.
My campground of the day was well outside of town, a very commercial "family" campground of the "Jellystone Park" chain. They did not quite know how to handle my arrival by bike. The absence of a license plate number nearly made it impossible for me to register. Then there was a rule against riding bikes in the park, but when I refused to walk my heavy rig, the attendant agreed to waive the rule in my case.
Once set up, with my wet tent drying out in the breeze, I returned to town and watched the sunset over the Detroit River before retiring to a local pub for dinner. My panier-laden bike parked outside the window became a point of interest and some locals bought me a beer so as to hear about my trip. It was quite late when I returned to the campground.
(The story will be continued in subsequent editions of the Messenger. Accounts of earlier bike rides can be found at http://rogerkenner.ca/Bike/Bike.html)
Roger Kenner
Web Page prepared by:
Roger Kenner
& Jette Blair.
Content-New Topics Last Updated: 2007/03/14
St. Ansgar's Lutheran Church - Montreal