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John van Sloten

About John van Sloten

John was the founding pastor of New Hope Christian Reformed Church in Calgary AB ten years ago. There (among other ministries) he has pioneered preaching “from the culture”, including rock music, movies, and current issues.

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Hallowed be Thy Game

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On Sunday afternoon, February 28th, 2010 – God willing – the Canadian Men’s Olympic Hockey Team will be going for gold. There’s no question that this event will be the highlight of Vancouver’s games, and that the vast majority of us – the faithful – will be there, on the edges of our couches, glued to our sets, with our hearts in our throats. For a couple of hours we’ll be caught up in the ecstasy of it all, nothing else will matter. Filled with religious fervour, we’ll fully engage this sacred event; our very identities on the line. And all we’ll need to do is believe.

Why? Why will this event transcend so many others? How can one hockey game ever mean so much to so many Canadians?

It’s a question I hope to engage in the pre-game sermon I’ll be preaching that Sunday morning. My thinking is that the God who made all things (in the Christian worldview anyway) has something to do with this game. Surely he’ll be watching. And surely there’s some greater divine purpose at play.

But what?

In order to get at an answer I decided to solicit some professional help. So I emailed Globe and Mail sports writer Roy MacGregor and asked if he’d be willing to help me research my sermon. His response? “I’d be happy to,” he wrote, “if time permits.” Following is the email dialogue that ensued.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010, 8:56 am

Roy,

Here’s my first/main sermon research question(s).

Why are Canadians so passionate about their men’s Olympic team? What is it about this series that matters so much? Can you identify the specific yearnings and desires in us that are being piqued by this event?

I’m especially interested in your thoughts on our “specific yearnings and desires” Roy. How do they differ in this series, from say a playoff run, or a regular Saturday night game? J

Thanks again for taking the time,

John

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Tuesday, February 2, 2010, 9:10 am

John,

I’ll try and answer in the body [of your email], John.

[“Why are Canadians so passionate?] Canadians aren’t known for much — even the things we should be known for. Americans say basketball was invented in Springfield (it was, but BY A CANADIAN). They say the telephone was invented there (it wasn’t — but HERE, BY A CANADIAN). We invented hockey and no one disputes this. We embraced it as our national game and we are one of a few countries where only one game matters above all others, hockey. The Olympics gives us the chance to have the world notice that Canadians truly own this game they invented.

[How are the Olympics different from other hockey series.?] It is sooooooo different. A playoff run is only important to the city, Saturday night hockey only important to the country. The Olympics are the world’s showcase. Our specific yearnings and desires are simple. We know, in our insecure hearts, that the rest of the world, if it thinks of us at all, it is as what that British headline writer once called “That Great White Nothing.” Or if they do think of us, it is of very quiet, polite not-quite Americans.

But hockey, I believe, allows Canadians to show the world the face Canadians wish the world to see in Canada: resilient, tenacious, teamwork, hardworking, determined, filled with heart, ultimately triumphant — and yet humble in victory. (After the wild piling on and cheering, of course.)

Roy

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Tuesday, February 02, 2010, 10:18 am

Wow… great insights Roy.

When you write, “The Olympics gives us the chance to have the world notice that Canadians truly own this game they invented…” I think about how, in the Christian story, God created humanity with the mandate to be fruitful, and multiply and fill this world (Genesis 1:28). A big part of that filling involves the creation of culture. And a big part of our culture today is sport. So when we are the ones who invent a game like hockey, we’re doing a good thing that God commanded. And when we come up with something that’s innately us – with all of the ice we have to play on, available trees for sticks, and weather resilient spirits – we’re giving back to the broader global culture something very unique, very indigenous, very us. You’re right. We came up with this game. There’s something about being the first to create something that leaves us feeling very much who we are, very human, very alive, while at the same time bringing us closer to our Creator. In Christian circles the thinking is that all human beings are made in the image of God. So when we create one of the greatest cultural products ever conceived of, we’re mimicking our Maker. J

Your insights connecting our insecurities as Canadians with the pursuit of Olympic gold, was a new one for me. And I think you’re right. We do want to be seen for who we are, as the “resilient, tenacious, teamwork[ing], hardworking, determined, filled with heart, ultimately triumphant — and yet humble in victory” people that we really are. J As I consider these words, all I can think about is how God made us to be seen, recognized, and fully known and appreciated by him. I think God loves every single person and culture on our planet, in every detail, in all of their unique ways of playing and being, even if we mess things up some times (like finishing out of the medals in Turin – what was that about eh?). So this makes me wonder if our deep desire to be seen by the world for who we really are, is a pointer to an even greater yearning to be seen by God (knowingly or not).

What do you think about these spiritual connections?

John

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Tuesday, February 02, 2010, 10:41 am

I like it. I’m not a religious person at all (not anymore, anyway) but I appreciate the connections and think they work very well. Good luck with the sermon.

R

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Tuesday, February 02, 2010, 11:00 am

Thanks. And thanks for the inspiration Roy. I’m not sure I would have got there on my own.

Have a blast at the Olympics,

John

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Tuesday, February 02, 2010, 11:03 am.

Many thanks, John.

R

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So think about it as you watch the game. Where is God present in all of this? What is he saying about who you are, and how he made you… how he made us as Canadians? What is God revealing about himself through this good old hockey game?

“Too Close for Comfort” – Sometimes God’s Call On Your Life Can Be Challenging

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vessels“Do something outside of your comfort zone,” was her instruction, “and come to Thursday’s meeting prepared to talk about it.” At first I struggled with my small group leader’s assignment; not being the kind of person who really avoided uncomfortable things in life. But then a powerful real-life parable played out.

It all started with a call from the office (on my day off). A church staff member informed me that a woman from another church in our denomination had contacted our church to see if I’d be willing to visit her dying husband.

He was in a palliative state and she wanted to know if I could be available to help care for him until he died, and then do his funeral. When this request was first relayed to me (this is hard to admit) I responded in a less than positive way. The family lived over an hour away, and while their church was without a pastor at the time, I didn’t really feel like taking on the added responsibility.

My thoughts were fairly selfish, I know, but the idea of spending weeks or possibly months on the road troubled me. It took a few minutes to reluctantly get my head on straight. Then I returned the woman’s call.

She was quite reticent in making her request, but didn’t know what else to do or where else to go. She said she could pay me for my time. Being the big-hearted guy that I am, I feigned that time and money were not a concern in matters such as these. Then we set up a meeting time for Thursday (convenient for me); three days down the road.

That night I woke up having had a dream about the dying man. I couldn’t recall the details, but I do remember having a strong sense that I needed to visit him right away. After re-scheduling the appointment the next morning, I sat down to begin writing my sermon for the upcoming Sunday; on a film called The Dark Knight (it’s a story about how good and evil reside in all of us, and how there are bigger forces for good holding all of life together, keeping this world; in spite of our often divided hearts). My message came quickly and was uncharacteristically completed in two hours.

This left me a bit more time and space for my palliative sojourn. 

And yet I continued to grumble, all the way to this dying man’s house.

Closing the door of my car in front of their home, I remember praying, “Help me get my heart in the right place for this God.” Within minutes, I was sitting beside his bed. The moment I laid eyes on him I could see that death was near; pallid grey skin, purpled bruising, agonized gasping. His arm was elevated on a blanketed bedside table in order to help him breathe.

He was asleep when I entered. But his wife immediately woke him up – for me. I felt like I was intruding on the last bit of peace this man had.

Yet, the moment he awoke, he immediately lifted his dying hand to shake mine. I can still see his laboured effort in slow motion; using almost all of his limited resources he weakly raised his trembling hand to properly greet me. “If a dying man can do that for me,” I thought, “how can I possibly begrudge a one hour trip to come see him?” 

He didn’t have a lot of energy for dialogue. For most of the time his wife and I did the talking while he, fading in and out of consciousness, listened in. She handed me a piece of paper with the words John 7:37-38 written on it. “This is the passage he’d like you to preach at his funeral,” she whispered. I opened my bible, searched the text out and then read it.

“On the last and greatest day of the Feast, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.”

Then I asked the man why he chose it. With a weak, gravelly voice he said, “Because we’re the vessels…” To be honest, I didn’t understand what he meant at first. Now I do.

A few minutes later I asked if I could pray with the two of them. Hand in hand in hand I read Psalm 23 – The Lord is my shepherd – and then prayed one of those prayers where even you find yourself listening in to what’s being said. It was one of those times when the Spirit seems to be subtly leading.

Earlier in our meeting the man’s wife had told me that all she really wanted was for him to die peacefully, “In his sleep, at rest.” Building on her desire, I prayed that God would indeed take him soon, but then I added, “And not just in his sleep Lord, but in the middle of a beautiful dream… in the middle of a dream where he’s breathing freely, and running in a wide open space, filled with delight… in the middle of that kind of fully alive and free experience, take him home… and then let that moment live on forever.” For a second the beauty of the image took my breath away.

After finishing the prayer, as I was getting up to leave, I grabbed the man’s hand again and said, “I promise that I’ll do your funeral in a God honouring way. I’ll do the best that I can.”

Then I left for home. Content. 

It wasn’t until the next morning that I received the voicemail. The woman had called overnight to let me know that her husband died 7 hours after I’d left, at 11:00 pm. When I heard the words I gasped, and then let out a deep cry. The kind of cry you cry when you feel totally convicted of your selfishness and sin, while at the same time being held by this amazing sense of God’s forgiving grace and goodness. So many ‘what ifs’ ran through my head.

I immediately called the woman back. She saw the timeliness of my visit as nothing short of a miracle. A miracle!

How can that be? Even as my heart was so reluctant and out of line, God was working out his perfect will with a timing that was just right for this woman and her family.

How incredible is that? It truly was a miracle. God it seems -perhaps more often than we know – works in spite of us.

“Because we’re the vessels…”

The Gospel according to “Crash”

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crashMovies are a place where the spiritual concerns of our culture often intersect with the Gospel. John van Sloten has become well-known in Calgary and around the world for “preaching from the culture.” Here he offers a sermon which analyses a popular current movie in the light of the Christian message.

The 2006 Academy Award winning film, Crash, is one of the most profound and powerful films I’ve ever experienced. Its insight into the human condition is piercing; a brutal commentary on our desperate need for God. Unearthing. Disturbing. It wakes you up.

If you’ve ever wondered why we need the Christian story of Easter–its Good Friday darkness and its Sunday morning hope–Crash will give you all the evidence you need. And not very politely–in fact it will sideswipe you. “Nobody leaves this movie unscathed,” says Hollywood director Paul Haggis. He’s right. Culpability is assured: so is grace.

The primary vehicle used in preaching the message of Crash is racism. But not simply racism: it includes all kinds of relational brokenness. A Caucasian gun store owner toward a Persian man; that same Persian man towards an Hispanic locksmith; a corrupt white cop toward a black woman, another black woman toward that same white cop; the rich toward poor, the poor toward the rich; and, last but certainly not least, we, the viewing audience, toward our very selves. In engaging the film, we realize that we’re no different from the story’s characters; we’re just as broken, just as guilty as they are.

The soldiers, having braided a crown from thorns, set it on his head, threw a purple robe over him, and approached him with, “Hail, King of the Jews!” Then they greeted him with slaps in the face. (John 19:2-3, “The Message”)

There’s a scene where two clean-cut young black men are walking along, talking about the unfairness of racism, the discrimination of stereotyping. As a viewer you find yourself walking alongside them, nodding in agreement with their assertions, sharing their incredulity at the injustice of it all. And then, in a shocking twist of plot, the two pull out their concealed weapons and ruthlessly car-jack a rich white couple. All of your broad minded, liberal sensitivities go out the window. Even our stereotypes of relationally broken reality are not as clearly defined as we’d like to think. Good and evil are inextricably intertwined. Crash unpacks us.

A rich white woman screams at her husband regarding her concerns that the tattooed Hispanic locksmith currently working in the next room is a gang member. With him, we’re sickened as we overhear her prejudicial rant; with her, we’re sickened as we overhear ourselves.

And then, in the most disturbing subplot of all, we meet a savior, the only redeemable character in the film; a good white cop named Tommy. We seethe with him at his partner’s blatant bigotry. We stand with him when he’s challenged on his racial idealism. We celebrate human potential with him when he saves a black man, caught in an explosive confrontation with police. And then we die with him when, later in the film, he ends up shooting a young black hitchhiker; all because of a meaningless prejudicial misunderstanding.

Then we cry out in despair with the Apostle Paul:

There’s nobody living right, not even one, nobody who knows the score, nobody alert for God. They’ve all taken the wrong turn; they’ve all wandered down blind alleys. No one’s living right; I can’t find a single one. . . . They never give God the time of day. (Romans 3:10-18, “The Message”)

Everywhere we turn we’re faced with questions. Are we really like this? This perverted? This twisted? Have all of us turned aside and become corrupt? Is there no one who does good, even one? Who’s going to save us from this mess?

The soldiers brought Jesus to Golgotha, meaning “Skull Hill.” They offered him a mild painkiller (wine mixed with myrrh), but he wouldn’t take it. And they nailed him to the cross . . . (Mark 15:22-24, “The Message”)

Putting God on a cross is the ultimate manifestation of human relational brokenness. Depravity is most proudly displayed via our ability to stereotype, prejudice, and reject God. We choose to see what we want to see, we limit the truth; both in the person of Jesus Christ and in ourselves. Somehow we manage to get to the place where we see ourselves as right and God as wrong; it’s the pinnacle of human pride. We become blind to who God really is. One could not conceive of a more tangible way not to “give God the time of day.”

And yet at the very moment that depravity reached its zenith, so too did the providential love of God. While we’re busy hammering in the last few nails, living out our denial based self righteousness, God tearfully looked down on us, at the mess we’d got ourselves into, at the suffering of his Son, and screamed out, “Enough!” And the whole time, Jesus peered straight into our eyes and prayed for us, “Father forgive them.”

The moment we were at our worst, God was at his best. He died, we found life. We sinned, he saved. Our darkness made his light seem even brighter.

And what’s really intriguing about it all is this fact; the whole time this story is playing out, we have no idea what’s going on. We’re being saved behind our backs. While we’re still messed up, and messing up, Jesus died for us.

We can see this same reality playing out in Crash. Throughout the movie, we’re given visual clues every time the camera looks down from above on the city, or on a particular scene, offering us a ‘God’s eye’ view of things. This perspective cues us to the fact that someone is seeing all of this. The storyline goes even further; opening our eyes and hearts to the fact that someone is also mysteriously acting through all of this.

In a powerful scene of redemption, the most despicable character in the film, a bigoted white cop, ends up being the officer on the scene for a terrible car accident. The black woman whose life is hanging in the balance is the same woman he’d physically assaulted the night before. Initially both are horrified at the situation–and then something else mysteriously takes over. A greater good rises up within that peace officer’s heart and he risks his life trying to free her from the burning wreck. She lets go of her anger and trusts him, having no choice but to let him save her. All the while the mystical musical of the movie’s soundtrack plays in the background. Arm in arm they run from the fiery scene, falling into a trembling, tearful embrace. Then the car explodes and the camera pulls up into the sky.

Redemption. Hope. God stepped in and saved them, despite themselves.

God did it for us. Out of sheer generosity he put us in right standing with himself. A pure gift. He got us out of the mess we’re in and restored us to where he always wanted us to be. And he did it by means of Jesus Christ. (Romans 3:24,26-28, “The Message”)

The whole back half of the Crash story is filled with this kind of serendipitous salvation scenes. Saving foisted upon undeserving souls. The whole back half of our life stories are filled with these kinds of serendipitous scenes. It’s what Easter is all about; God at work behind the scenes, resurrecting us in spite of ourselves–mysteriously, graciously, making all things new.

At the time this was written, John van Sloten was the founding pastor of New Hope Community Church (CRC) in Calgary AB. 

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