Which way to Go?

This week I emailed the leaders at Westside an article that I found particularly thought provoking; at the end it talked about 'leading', and recognizing that we serve an Audience of One. I thought I would share it with them, and it might be helpful for you, the reader, to have a look at it before reading the rest of this blog, as I will be playing off that idea in some ways. It can be found here. The following are my thoughts after reading the blog...

As I reflected on the article, and on a sermon that I had listened to recently, I wondered... Which way do I go? Which way does Westside go? How do we honor, glorify and serve the Audience of One?

I'm not much of an Alice in Wonderland kind of guy, but a few months ago, with some friends, we popped in the old film to give it a look. Ah... nostalgia. Now, I'm pretty sure that by the end I had left the room, probably to get back to a book I was reading, but there is a spot in the movie that I recall well - and you may too. Alice is conversing with the illusive Cheshire Cat and this is part of their conversation:

'Cheshire Puss,' she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider. 'Come, it's pleased so far,' thought Alice, and she went on. 'Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'

'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.

'I don't much care where—' said Alice.

'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.

How true. If we don't know where we're going, it doesn't matter which way we go. I found myself uncomfortable and almost frightened at the thought. This type of realization causes us to stare straight into our minds and hearts and forces us to consider our motives, actions, goals and, most importantly, God's will.

I hope that this will encourage and challenge each of you to consider which way you're going to go. There is a popular notion in society that "all roads lead to God", or that "we all worship the same God, we just call on Him by different names or in different ways". We know, as Christ-followers, that these statements are not true. There is only one God; people who believe otherwise are likely to buy into a mind-set that says "it doesn't matter which way you go... all road's lead to the same place".

What are the implications for our church? Well, simply put, if we don't know where we're going, as a congregation, as leaders, it won't matter which direction we go. I've been challenged this week to consider our ministry areas in light of this thought. We should be mindful as we prepare for events, sermons, sunday school lessons, [indeed, in all areas of ministry!] which way are we going as a church? What are we learning as a congregation? In which area are we corporately trying to grow? Grace? Humility? Obedience? Sanctification? Service?

What are the implications persoanlly? I challenge all of you who read this, to consider which direction you're going. Maybe today you feel like Alice - standing beneath the tree wondering which way to go. If that's the case, turn to Jesus - ask Him which way to go - and as you go towards Him, do so with purpose - not aimlessly wandering in the trees, but straight ahead at what it is you seek. Where is God working in your life? What is He teaching you? In ways ways are you being sanctified? [Sanctification... it occurs to me that many may be unfamiliar or uncomfortable with the term... perhaps I will blog on that soon!] Search your heart and go forward with purpose, continually praying that God will teach you, rebuke you, bring you to your knees in repentance, and then bear fruit through you.

This is my prayer for each of you, and especially for me, today.

The Oath

I love a good thriller. When you're looking for a gripping, spooky novel that will capture you're attention and keep you up late in the night, you can always count on Frank Peretti. Peretti has also penned classics like This Present Darkness, Piercing The Darkness, Monster, The Visitation and House.

The Oath is a story of a small town with a disturbing history. An ancient oath, a mysterious ... "pet", and some sticky black goo that smells like death...

The story begins with a horrific death on the mountainside, Cliff Benson was camping in the woods with his wife, when he was attacked. His wife escapes serious harm, but Cliff wasn't so lucky. The townsfolk suspect a large bear, and write the fatality off as a random bear attack, but there's some lingering questions - questions that Cliff's brother, Steve Benson, seeks to answer. Steve arrives in the small, close-knit town searching for the predator that killed his brother, and finds that the townspeople are not so happy to have his "help". He embarks on a wild adventure that will keep you reading into the wee hours of the night.

Always a captivating writer, Peretti will keep your interest and leave you wondering how the tale will end. Never short of creative ideas, you'll also encounter interesting personalities and a hard-to-find beast that devours people. This book, the 10th anniversary edition, is a must read!

The Shack

I was sitting on an old wooden porch this past summer - book in hand - every so often glancing up at the quiet lake in front of me. Every so often a boat would race by, usually towing some kids on tubes or ski's. Company arrived for lunch - a pastor and his wife who now minister in the Southern U.S. We got to talking, and since I was in the middle of a book, the pastor asked if I had read The Shack. The what? The Shack, he repeated, it's taking the country by storm! Now this sounds interesting...

He explained the premise of the book, and I was intrigued. He raved about it; it's a work of fiction to be sure, but contains a large dose of theology, set in a fictional story. Okay, let's give it a read. I picked it up at a local bookseller and dug in. It didn't take long to get drawn in to the storyline...

I put the book down. Finished. Good book - engaging, thought provoking and, at times, powerful and emotional. To be honest, I enjoyed the book very much and I would say that it challenged me to look at God in a slightly different way.

I was then sent a review by a friend. The review is by Gary Gilley, and the review is linked here. Initially I wanted to refute much of his review. For some reason, I didn't like the way Gilley critiqued the book and thought he was biased. Looking back, I think I was put off by a statement made early in the review:

Young’s message centers on the Trinity and salvation, but before we tackle Young’s main objective it is significant that he has a couple of axes to grind concerning the Bible and the church.

To be honest, that kind of irked me. How does he know? Although the main character seems to be upset with the local church, that doesn't necessarily mean that the author shares that view - after all, we can't assume that the author is always projecting into his/her writings!

I was challenged by my friend, and hopped on the net to do some research. I turned to the page the most might think to look up first - Wikipedia. That thing knows everything (not really, but you know what I mean...). I looked up the author and found the page. Hmm. Funny thing... Mr. Young no longer attends church; looks like he might have an ax or two to grind after all.

Anyway, now I'm in research mode. I'm still somewhat annoyed with Gilley's review, and I protest to my friend. In fact, I started writing a blog entry about it. Then my friend passed on another link to me. Tim Challies. Who in the world...

Anyway, turns out Challies churns out some pretty good book reviews and wrote a long one on The Shack. I'll link it here - and it's worth reading! You're able to download the .pdf file a read it (save a tree will ya?), or print it out...

I won't go into a full review of the book - Challies does a much better job than I, and I'll encourage you to point your mouse that way.

So where do I stand now? Well... after much consideration, I think that The Shack is an engaging novel which I found challenging and eye-opening, but further than that, I think The Shack could be quite dangerous. For seekers and new-believers, this book has the potential to warp their view of God and the trinity. Indeed, as I read with my guard down, I was susceptible to what some theologians blatantly call heresy! I think that much discernment is needed when reading this book, and we need to consider the implication of Young's theology.

Sometimes these kind of ideas sound good when you first read them - especially when they are presented in such a personal/relational story like The Shack, but when you consider the implications of those ideas - you realize that they won't fit with your theological cornerstones. That's what happened for me, anyways.

I must admit, because the book was written by a Pastor (and a respected one at that - not some random crack-pot rev), my guard was down. I don't think The Shack is without merit and I think there are some valid points that challenge and encourage relationship with God, especially for people who feel far from Him, but I do worry that this book could have a damaging effect on many.

Read The Shack, but with much discernment. Read the reviews... Read the blogs (just google "The Shack" and "Blog", you'll get zillions of pages). Compare all the ideas with Scripture - think it through.

For those YouTubers - here's Mark Driscoll (Mars Hill Church - Seattle) talking about The Shack, and here's the author himself on the 700 Club. Last one - here - he talks in Atlanta and describes his past (and his book).

I welcome some feedback - either in the comment section or privately - this has sure been a hot topic that has generated a lot of thought, argument and discussion.

(And I should give a 'shout out' to the friend I mentioned. If you're reading this, you know who you are, and I'm grateful for your insight, weblinks, and personal challenge. You gave me a lot to think about, and I appreciate it. Thanks).

Remembering Ted Stimers (24-12-53 : 10-11-01)

It has been 7 years since my Dad, Ted Stimers, passed away.

It’s hard to know what to write, but since many reading this blog knew my Dad, I thought it was appropriate to write a little something in his memory.

Today I spent a lot of time trying to remember … trying to remember events, discussions, hikes, birthdays, vacations and other things... some coming back easier than others. I wondered what story to share today. Maybe the time that my Dad dared me to go bungee jumping (I said “obviously I’ll do it”, thinking there was no way he’s actually let a 14 year-old bungee jump… I was wrong); maybe the times we’d play baseball, or the many early mornings when he’d take Dave and I to hockey and lace up our skates.

Instead, I’ll share one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

For many years, our family owned a Honda Accord, it was an old silver model – a stick shift – and from what I recall, a pretty decent car. It was getting older – it was well used around town for hockey games, piano lessons and trips to the church – but it was still in fairly good shape.

One sunny day, we brought the car over to the church where a car wash was being held in the parking lot. Dad parked the car in the designated area and headed for his office – no doubt putting the finishing touches on what was to be a great sermon the following day… or perhaps relaxing with a double-double from Tim Horton’s – I can’t be quite sure – I was out in the parking lot, no doubt being a goofy 14-year-old.

Our Honda, freshly washed and buffed with care by the church youth group, needed to be moved from it’s designated area to make room for the next luxury car. Someone made a comment about going into the church to find Pastor Ted; I decided that wasn’t necessary; I could move the car – I mean, sure, I had never actually driven the car, but I had seen it done many times, and surely I was capable of moving it 20 feet or so to the back of the lot. So I did.

Although I had seen my parents drive that car countless times, I was not a proficient driver. I let out the clutch too fast and didn’t turn the wheel fast enough.

But, I parked the car… right into the side of Larry’s car. I was devastated. A small crowd gathered, someone else got into the car, reversed and parked it correctly (must have been someone with a license…). I, on the other hand, did what any teenager who messed up would do… I walked quickly into my Dad’s office, mumbled something about wrecking the car and how he’d probably better check it out, and I took off.

I’m not sure exactly where I was going; I just started walking. I suppose I would have ended up at home eventually… hoping that the hurricane that would be my parents would have then subsided (my Dad was a Pastor, but surely this would evoke some anger!).

I didn’t get much further than the corner before my Dad had caught up to me. Still devastated, he wrapped his arms around me. We sat for a few minutes and talked – he was surprisingly calm for a guy whose car had just been crashed. Before he even looked at the damage, he helped fix the damage in me. Forgiveness was immediate; that’s just the kind of Dad he was. The damage to Larry’s car was nil, and for that I was grateful, the damage to ours – slightly more, but nothing too major. The damage to my pride: enormous (and I’m still teased about it from time to time… thanks Dave).

Aside from publicly embarrassing myself, my point is that my Dad, much like our heavenly Father, was a forgiving Dad; a Dad who was gentle, kind and loving, and I appreciated that about him – that single event taught me a lot about love and forgiveness. I’m not sure he realized it at the time and I’m sure he was worried about his car and how much damage was done, but his priority was his son.


About 5 years later Dad got sick. He had numerous procedures to be done, and I had the honor of shaving his head. If you knew my Dad, you knew his hair, always done the same way. It was a great feeling to take Fred’s job for a day (Fred was Dad’s go-to guy when it came to haircuts). I had no idea that there wouldn’t be too many more pictures to take together.


One of the last verses my Dad gave me was Psalms 16:8, it’s now tattooed on my left shoulder – “I have set the Lord always before me. Because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.”

On his grave, a few verses later – “You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.” (vs.11).

Today, although I still mourn, I rejoice that my Dad is now with Jesus. He is experiencing all that joy – he is filled with it – just as the psalmist says. This gives me great comfort and hope.


Dad took that step of faith and trusted Jesus with his life, and his after-life. With that thought in mind I quote the words from our friend David Taylor who delivered a speech at the memorial service. “Because Ted took this step, I do not have to say ‘Good-bye’ to my friend, instead I can simply say, ‘Until we meet again.’”










Although I write with tears tonight, I look forward to that day when there will be no tears.


My father and my friend… until we meet again.


In memory of Allan Edward (Ted) Stimers. December 24, 1953 – November 10, 2001.

Ah, the sweet smell of politics...

Two posts in one day! How about that.

As I was taking a much needed break from work this afternoon, I came across an interesting blog that I thought would be helpful for those of you who are following the political race south of the border.

For those who haven't heard of Mark Driscoll, he is the teaching pastor at Mars Hill Church in Seattle, Washingon (not to be confused with the Mars Hill in Michigan which is associated with the emerging church). Mars Hill Seattle is a multi-site church with thousands in attendance. Mark Driscoll is known for being somewhat outspoken, at times very blunt, but always very biblical.

I frequent Mark's blog regularly, and find it very thought provoking. This week his blog was titled, In God We Do Not Trust; his reflections on the election and the issues that have weighed heavily on our brothers and sisters who prepare to vote today.

I urge you to read the blog - it is truly humbling - at least it was for me. Our country is not far behind our neighbors to the south - and the same principals and insights that Mark identifies, apply to us as well. Here's a quote from his blog:

The bottom line is obvious to those with gospel eyes. People are longing for Jesus, and tragically left voting for mere presidential candidates. For those whose candidate wins today there will be some months of groundless euphoric faith in that candidate and the atoning salvation that their kingdom will bring. But, in time, their supporters will see that no matter who wins the presidency, they are mere mortals prone to sin, folly, and self-interest just like all the other sons of Adam and daughters of Eve.

For more, click the link above, or this link here, for In God We Do Not Trust, by Pastor Mark Driscoll.

Do you talk too much?

I do.

Saying that though, I feel the need to qualify it a little. Providing intensive family therapy, I often have to balance how much I talk with how much I listen. I always try to listen more than I talk, however I realize that, at times, I get carried away.

This got me thinking. How much time do we spend talking, and when we're talking, how many words are wasted? How much time do we spend around the proverbial "water cooler" talking about things that really don't matter?

As always, we look to Scripture for insight regarding how much we talk, and what we talk about.

Consider Proverbs 20:19 -

"A gossip betrays a confidence; so avoid a man who talks too much."

Or Proverbs 10:19 -

"When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise."

As we know, "Proverbs" are general statements of truth - they are not absolutes; though it appears true that the more we talk, the more we tend to sin. As you navigate your week, whether at home, school, work or elsewhere, consider how much you talk, and the content of your discussions.

Well respected Bible teacher, Alistair Begg used this small poem (author unknown) in a recent sermon on this subject:

If all that we say in a single day,
With never a word left out,
Were painted each night in clear black and white,
It would prove queer reading, no doubt.

And then just suppose 'ere our eyes would close,
we must read the whole record through,
Then wouldn't we sigh, and wouldn't we try,
A good deal less talking to do.

And I more than half think that many a kink
Would be smoother in life's tangled thread,
If half that we say in a single day
Were forever left unsaid.