vancouver cont'd

Out the window my two young cousins play in the sprinkler as my uncle watches, getting them wet with the ol' pinch the hose trick. The innocence of youth is a great thing, especially when you can create a few laughs as a result. This is our weekend off. It's a chance for me to hang out with my family in the city and a break from the intense city exploration Susana described in the previous post.

Sunday we went on a city churches tour. It was surprisingly moving. The first church, St. James was a mid-to-high Anglican service, with smells and bells, but a low altar (if that means anything to any of you). I grew up Anglican, and so it was familiar. Even the scent of the woman behind me was like how my Granny used to smell. It was a nice taste of home, and encouraging to see some life in an Anglican church, one trying (in it's own way) to make a difference in the downtown community.

The second stop was a Native mission church on Hastings at Main. This was moving in a different way. The nine of us more than doubled the whole church, which looked out into the alley behind the Carnegie Centre at the infamous Vancouver intersection. We watched, singing songs of praise led by the sounds of a single guitar, as people outside talked and milled about making deals behind the dumpster. Tears began to flow from my eyes as I watched a man try for what felt like hours to inject desperately desired herione into a hard to find vein. The contrast was almost too much. How can we sing our songs praising God when the earth he created has so much pain still in it? How can I even believe that God is present in such a place? I didn't have the answers.

Third, an afternoon Jazz vespers service at the United church downtown. I will be honest, it upset me. It didn't seem to get God. It was empty. It was a new age feel-good session with a plastic-faced woman singing mediocre jazz songs and "messages" that didn't speak to me at all. I didn't feel a single pang of guilt about passing along the offering basket.

The last service was at a Baptist community church just off Commercial Drive. Every church has its quirks, but this one seemed to get it right in important ways. It was less of a navel-gazing church and it smacked of good community and a sensitivity to the world outside. And there were young people -- a good sign.

Tomorrow we embark on another adventure: 48 hours on the streets. Stay tuned...