The Promise

I'm not sure if I'm alone on this one, but I absolutely love these Chinese/Hollywood fusion movies (like House of Flying Daggers, Hero, and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon). I remember after watching Hero in the theater, I felt as if I had just been to an art gallery. I know they're unrealistic and hokey and overdramatic but...so am I, sometimes.

Here's the trailer for The Promise.

Téte â Téte

"Jesus rarely comes where we expect Him; He appears where we least expect Him, and always in the most illogical connections...It is not service that matters, but intense spiritual reality, expecting Jesus Christ at every turn."
- Oswald Chambers

My mother is a conspiracy theorist. While other kids grew up with motherly advice such as "Don't let the bed bugs bite." we Hunter kids grew up with "Remember, this life is just a holodeck." Although it used to trip me out, I realize now that she's been right all along.

What is real?

Some days I really get it. Some days I look at the world, at interactions I have, incidents I experience, connections I make as all part of a wonderful, living, breathing relationship with the Ultimate Creator of the Universe. And some days I don't. Some days I allow Jesus to surprise, romance, teach, and lead me and other days I sense that he's doing the tap-dancing-Jesus-routine (mental image courtesy of Nikolas Delic, circa 2002) in an attempt to get my attention.

I wonder if I'll ever reach a stage of such dependancy on Jesus that I'll always get it. I wonder if life is a series of days where we are made aware of him, turning into weeks, months, years at a time, until we get to see him forever.

"Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully even as I am fully known."
(I Corinthians 13:12)

Lando Calrissian fills my heart with joy

I was told to post a blog today, but didn't think I had anything to write about. Upon further consideration, however, I realize I have plenty.

First, is this comment (posted on Feburary 24th's blog...but only just recently):

Anonymous said...

I love you sarah !! You have such beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes ! aaahhh...i wish i could come up to you and just say how beautiful you look !

Although I assume (and with good reason) that it is really just my friend Kate messing around, it's moments like this that amuse me greatly. It would be even more amusing, and less creepy, if I hadn't just met a million people at Missionfest this weekend...any of which could have found my blog easily enough and posted such a comment. Perhaps by exposing the comment the fan, or phoney, will reveal him/herself.

Second, I had a delightful lunch/dinner (linner? dunch?) with said Kate just today. We ate sushi. I had a desire for it ever since it was mentioned last night at TACF Central as an after-service hang out, but we all ended up going to Pogue Mahones instead. After sushi, Kate and I discussed the phenomenon of linger post-sushi-hunger and speculated that perhaps thumb sized patties of rice and slivers of raw fish should not be expected to satiate one's hunger. I hear that in Vancouver they have "all you can eat" sushi establishments where, I assume, they serve you all you can eat. Born and raised in Toronto, far from the shores of any ocean, I am not aware of such a magical place.

Third, my wonderful mummy bought me these new shoes:

And I heart them dearly. I am somewhat aware that shoes of these sort have been the center of hot blogging debates in the past, and I am more than willing to offer such a forum for debate here as well.

Random Monday evening rant is now complete.

(G)oogling

Let's admit. We've all done it. We've all Googled someone (or ourselves) to see how many sites are rendered - hits that give us info, sleuthing privileges, backgrounds, photos, etc.

Sitting in the hallway of the Port Hotel, outside room 308 (because YWAM's wireless internet is spawned there...and Stanley isn't awake yet to open the door to me...), I was busy Googling away when I decided to Google myself. I'm sure Sim would argue that this action marks the pinnacle of narcissism.

When I Google my name as "Sarah Hunter" I get this, this, this, this, and this. None of which are me, but are amusing (especially the basket weaver). But "Sarah-Aubrey Hunter" brings up my blog as the first site, accompanied with the infamous quote from Nik's blog: "Rarely updated because she's too busy." Following sites include my name as the contact for the Bessies, an award show I ran over two years ago when I worked for TVB, and an article that I wrote for the Medium (UTM's campus newspaper), followed by a few other outdated Bessies references.

Moments like this make me wish that I had a more interesting name, one that belonged to only me. It creeps me out that there are other Sarah Hunters, Sarah AUBREY Hunters, in fact, that are walking the globe.

Unwritten

Kate - best friend extraordinaire - pinpointed this song, after hearing it on the radio, as one that perfectly explained my current state of mind. She wins.

In the song, Natasha Bedingfield (rumoured to have been a YWAM base brat such as myself, along with her famous brother...little bit of trivia for you) advises:

Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Living by faith is a lot scarier, often, in practice than it is in profession. And I'm not (just) talking about finances. I'm talking about *gasp* not having all the answers. I'm not sure if it's North American culture, or a first-born mentality, or having stubborn DNA anymore but somewhere someone must have made me believe that I needed all the answers. That I have to fight for myself, because no one else will do it for me. I'm convinced that it's no longer a gender issue, it's an all round human issue...and one that has infiltrated every area of our sad, paranoid little lives.

I wonder how Jesus puts up with our fake bravado. Our forecasts about the future (wasn't the end of the world supposed to occur at the turn of the new millenium?), our science (having visited the ROM this week, I wonder how many "facts" will have to be altered as they discover more about dinosaurs, for example), our theories, our philosophies, even our theologies and doctrines.

I'm trying to find the joy, the peace, the comfort in having an unwritten page or two ahead of me still.

Faith never knows where it is being led, but it loves and knows the One Who is leading. It is a life of Faith, not of intellect and reason, but a life of knowing Who makes us "go."
- Oswald Chambers

sun is shining

sun is shining, the weather is sweet
make you want to move your dancing feet
to the rescue, here i am
want you to know, y'all, where i stand
- bob marley

Shannon, Stanley, Carly and myself (four members of the renegade band of ywami.netters that have taken up residence in the dodgy Ports Hotel of Port Credit...for now) drove downtown today for no particular reason except for a love of downtown. We scouted out two separate properties for potential YWAM use in the future, recorded ourselves on Speakers Corner (a Toronto experience I have never done before...it was unnerving), at lunch on Queen West, got a parking ticket, shopped at Black Market, and listened to the best of Bob Marley on the way home.

Living with all these Bajans has been a learning experience all on its own. Currently Anderson's two kids, Jaydn (2) and Kayla (1), are dancing to reggae. These bubbies have moves.

Lights will guide you home

I'm home.

Nine YWAM bases, three 24-7 Prayer Boiler Rooms, five flights, twelve train rides, and eight main European cities in seven weeks. It was fun while it lasted, but it’s good to be home.

The theme of "home" has been on my heart today: what it is, how it manifests itself, whether it relates to a geographical location, or a spiritual affinity, or a community of like-minded people...or a combination.

Coming back to Toronto this week has been a lesson in recognizing home (my wanderlust is, perhaps, taking a vacation of its own) in all its subtleties. It's in my dad and Kate waiting for me at the arrival gate when I got off my plane (Kate, having tracked down my flight arrival information herself using her impeccable sleuthing skills), it’s in the scent of Lake Ontario before it rains, it’s on Queen Street on a Sunday afternoon, it’s in the reunions I enjoyed at Sarah and Billy’s wedding on Friday.

Coming home is also laden with responsibilities. When you’re on the road, making week-long friendships, sleeping in a different bed every three days, leaving behind a business card and a good impression, no one requires much of you. You’re not even obliged to keep in touch.

Once within the boundaries of the GTA I start to feel familiar gravities. People know me. People have known me for years, not days. People know my family. They know my weaknesses and they know my strengths. And, suddenly, I am held accountable for all of it. Jet lag has nothing on this internal phenomenon.

On Sunday, at church, Steve Long spoke on the topic of sonship. What struck me this morning is that the prodigal son received the family’s signet ring from his father: the symbol of authority. And responsibility.

My heart is elated, but my head is exhausted.
- Tiesto