The Blog of Pastor Mike Wilkins
In The Long Run
"The long run" referred to in the title of this blog is, in the first place, the many years Mike Wilkins served as West London's solo pastor, and then its Senior Pastor, since he and his wife Deb moved to London (and this church) in 1984.
In these past few years (beginning November 2011,) Mike's various health challenges, particularly a serious and ongoing case of cancer, has added another layer to the "long run" metaphor, and lots to blog about. Mike is currently on an extended Sick Leave, but generally worships with the church family on Sunday mornings.
With the publication of a book he wrote in 2016 entitled "Glory in the Face" (now available electronically and in paperback from Amazon.ca, and other online venders), Mike has just launched a new website, which will serve as a sort of scrapbook for readers of the book, with relevant background photos, for example, of That Last Final Solo Canoe Trip in May, 2011, as well as additional information about the book, and--coming soon--a new set of blog posts, mostly about the peace of God and the joy of the Lord and the face of Christ and the strength to face anything. You'll find the new website now at www.gloryintheface.com.
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I offended a woman, one Sunday morning, years ago now, by a sermon I preached on the topic of obedience to God. “The way you spoke about God expecting us to obey him makes me feel as if God thinks of me as his dog.”
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When I was a boy, and on a long drive in the family car, it was always a treat to have the backseat to myself. By contrast, on the long, metaphoric drive I’m now taking, the treat for me is that I never have been back there by myself.
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“You have the keys. You drive.” And it’s what my father would sometimes say to me once I had become the delighted owner of an actual Driver’s License. And it’s what my father never said to me or to my siblings when we were children. In those days, he (or my mother) was always the driver. And we were always the unlicensed children in the backseat, for better or for worse.
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For quite a long time now, I have been (a little bit) inspired by “The Princess Bride.” In its own quirky way, that silly movie has strengthened my striving for the courage required to live and then to die well.
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"Almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know. Everybody you see. Everybody you talk to. Only a few people are awake, and they live in a state of constant, total amazement."
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I am inclined to think that, in some ways, I am one of a kind. For example, I might be the only person in the whole world who regularly goes running with his iPod playing Handel’s “Messiah.”
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I am what I am: basically an unemotional man. Something like the half-human, half-Vulcan Mr Spock, but with less excuse since my Mom and my Dad are 100% human and I am pretty sure I was not adopted.
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Times have changed. People much younger than I might be surprised to know that I memorized Psalm 1 in Miss Thurston's Grade 6 Class. (How times and Public School Boards have changed.) These many years later, I have questions. Two of them about this blessed man who is profiled in this first psalm. And another question about chickens and eggs.
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Harvest festivals have been celebrated in North America off and on since 1556. All these years later, it is our happy custom to celebrate the annual recurrence of the harvest. It’s a natural thing to celebrate. And it’s almost as natural to bring a sense of gratitude to the table. But this second impulse raises a question. If we’re getting together to say “Thanks,” to whom are we saying it? Some people like to make it perfectly clear that they are not making a religious statement of any kind. They’re just thankful. Period.
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"Talk about making known the greatness of God by the lives we live"! Actually, that was what I did talk about this last Sunday (September 14, 2014). It was the first sermon in a three-week series on West London's "Statement of Intention": Making Known the Greatness of God.
