Winter Conference

Regularity in my life is overdue right now and I feel like an abused candle (because of the burning out action). I returned to Guelph about one hour ago in a permanent sort of "end of holidays" way and it feels pretty good. It mostly feels good because I no longer need to live out of a suitcase or use someone else's towels. Amen.


Alright, I attended - for the first time since ever - the Eastern Winter Conference for all five days. It has been an interesting and surprizingly bumpy journey. In the weeks immediately preceding WC (like one or two), I discovered that financial needs would supercede the Montreal Project reunion as my major preoccupation for the event. This was a welcome phenomenon to me because I do not want to hype up seeing people again (it is not cool and it is distracting from more important things). The money arrived in a gloriously God-honoring plus lovely way and I went to register for the conference hoping I would see no one from project until after I had registered, unpacked and rested. I actually wanted to avoid these people for a good while, thinking I ought to take some time to sturdy myself for the imminent days of learning and challenging, etc. It's difficult to explain how that turned out so I will move on. When I saw HiuKei (my oh-so-lovely and oh-so-Japanese-but-not-really housemate from the summer) I was hooked, I think. She is a prize and a gem. When we spotted eachother it was nearing the end of our first Campus Times session. McGill had finished but Guelph was still 1 or 2 minutes away from completion. HiuKei and I looked at eachother, smiling madly while I waited for our Key Student Leader to finish so I could run over to her. It was quite funny, actually. Sometimes, even that short time between seeing someone you miss and actually embracing them can be over-hyped and you end up faking excitement. In this case however, we had a chance to think about it and actually remember how much we missed one another. I was like a bad kindergarten kid, fidgeting on the carpet, waiting. I had a very lovely mclovely time with all of the people from Montreal Project that I hung out with. But here is my realization about my actions that made me want to write all of this down, taken from my prayer-ish account to God...

"... I realized some things about Guelph, Montreal and how I spent my time. Yes it is important to build relationships with Christians and yes, this is a great place to do it. However, people from Montreal Project are tightly bonded at the moment but Guelph's campus is part of a movement. Unfortunately, it seems I need to invest more in my relationships at Guelph - actively - because that is what I am working on now."

I have been in the same situation for Summit and the Passion concert and have had a dilemma creeping under my skin both times. Finally it is out. I was wondering if I should feel guilty about where I spend my time but I refused to think or listen about it long enough to arrive at a solid conclusion. The present conclusion? Firstly, there is now no condemnation in Christ Jesus but secondly, I do need to spend my time more wisely and selflessly. With project members, I have a guarantee (perhaps at 95 or 100%) that I will have an enjoyable time because I already know them well and we know we miss one another and want to spend time together. However, with other people (sometimes including the close friendies), there is no guarantee so I impatiently access the option I am sure of, dooming the bad guarantee to an even lower percentage. [Is this too abstract?]

I lay on the floor of the Hilton Toronto's concourse level with seven other girls from Project and we were together. There's no better word for it. It was one of the most blissful, peaceful, relaxed moments of the entire conference and I shall cherish for a long time. It was amazing how comfortable we could be with eachother in terms of what we shared, how the conversation could change from profundity to shallowness whenever, how different conversations could spawn, and especially our body language, using one another as pillows. I might call it a miniscule glimpse into the fellowship department of Heaven. Several feet away from our cluster, Guelph students were sat in a circle, talking and eating pizza. It struck me, this very same mutinous traitor feeling that had been hacking at me for a while, and I finally gave in, realizing, "These people are getting better acquainted with their team members so that we can fight the good fight with people we know and love well. Here I sit amongst girls whom I have already fought some great battles with, knowing and loving them very well." I should have better priorities. I should learn to express myself more concisely. This is a long post. Guelph: I'm sorry. You are cool but Montreal is far too rare and tempting. :)


Here is another great thing that happened at Winter Conference 2005: I met a girl I attended high school with, who now attends McGill, and I was both overjoyed and overshocked to see her. As far as I can tell, we have not seen eachother since I became a Christian and since she started to compromise her beliefs. She was there with KCCC (the K stands for kaleidoscope or Korean) and she told me in the brief moments we had that she had been crying much these past two days (assumedly because of Holy Spirit convictions) citing her moving away from God as the reason. What can I say but "praise God!" to that? I prayed depuis longtemps that she would never be completely lost but that God would hold on to her and bring her back. Amen and thank You.


On New Year's Eve, some staff - almost like bouncers - of the Hilton Toronto wait by all entrances to check for keys and refuse anyone who is not a guest. My understanding is that one night at the Hilton Toronto will cost approximately $250. I would wager that not a one of us Conference members could - or even would - be able to afford to stay in the hotel for four nights. While walking around the hotel, I felt like I was there on somebody else's tab, and often like I was defiling the building with my lower-class self. There is nothing like an uppity hotel to make you realize how poor you are. Anyways, there were many people hovering around the doors who were not permitted entrance and I couldn't help but think I was cheating the system, or I had a fake I.D. or something else scandalous when the doorman would nod me in at first glance of my key. Each time I reached the other side of the inner door, I would breath a sigh of relief, loosen up and resist the urge to be smug or to gloat. It is absolutely remarkable how great man feels when he is allowed to be part of an elite group (elite by nature placing him above his peers) and I think we all know this feeling. Then I thought, "How amazing is the welcome we get from Jesus?" It finally hit me in that moment, the brilliance of our inheritance in Christ: we can gain entrance to the most elite of elite places (i.e. where God dwells) if we are in Jesus because God, a good father, welcomes His Son into His house. The feeling rendered when we are admitted without question ("Got the H-Spizzo? Come on in!") is beautifully undescribable and it is another paltry glimpse of Heaven's acceptance department. How many privaleges and perquisites does God give us (without even asking us to flash our key)? We even try to steal the shampoo, don't we?


My final comment on WC is about our talent show from Thursday, the 29th. Way too many people asked me if I was going to perform that it made me almost feel uncomfortable. I couldn't help but wonder why expectations were so high and why people think I have performance-ready material in my back pocket at ALL times. Anyways, I neglected to sign the list because I did not want to say I would perform and pull out at the last minute because that would only yield chanting and goading. When the "last" performer was on stage, another girl and I went to ask the MC if this was actually the last performer, knowing full well what she had said, hoping that an exception would be made. The other girl said yes, for sure, she would go and when the MC stood saying, "we were just kidding, there's one ... two? [holding two fingers up inquisitively, looking at me].. one more performer," I communicated my change of heart. Then, when that girl was almost finished her song, the MC asked again if I wanted to go up and finally I said "yes" knowing I regret not acting more than acting (even like an idiot) every time. I was not sure if I was going to sing a song or recite a poem. I did not want to go with the poem because I make a habit of never performing those twice but a song is far scarrier and would not have been entirely different from the rest of the acts like poetry would. I sat down at a pianoforte whose damper pedal was not working. That is the one thing that will make me refuse to play a piano, despite how much I utterly love the instrument. But now, sitting in a performer's spot with an expectant crowd, I was forced to work with what I had. I was surprized by the ease with which I spoke into the microphone to introduce the song and I could even pull a laugh or two from the crowd. Ha.. a few people were like calling my name before I even started talking. It's funny to me. I played and sang in a way that was satisfactory to me (the best I could ask for in performance) , likely under the influence of the knowledge that this was a voluntary and lax endeavor so I need not worry. That evening, a few people told me the liked what I had presented. One person - a friend of mine - said, "Some day you're gonna make me cry," and at first I thought it bizarre and somewhat cheesy, no kidding. The next day a few more random people told me the liked the song, most of them stopping me in the hall way or something and I still do not know any of their names. That day I realized the crying comment was actually a quite lovely compliment. I have long believed that a delayed compliment is best because it can attest to sincerety. That is, if you say, "Oh my goodness! That was so GO-ooood!!" the second the performer's foot leaves the stage, the substance of your compliment is all but void. It is too much of a formality; of an expected reaction, that it means little, especially when given in large doses. If, however, you were to write the performer an encouraging note and slip it into their pocket or mailbox that day or the next, they would know that you enjoyed the performance enough to take the time to write their thoughts and deliver them to you. The same applies to a verbal comment the next day or the next time you see them, even if that is one week later. After I finished the song, I was OK but I felt weird because the response of the crowd smacked of confusion. I just wanted to leave and I felt as torn down as I always do after a performance (except for one, lone instance) but I have come to recognize God's pattern of using something in the performance to humble me and then using the following days, weeks or months to slowly build me back up so I do not get a big head. Those next-day comments and the day-after-next-day comments build very well. On the third day, a girl from York U approached me and explained how she "just wanted to encourage" me. She said that there was an area of her personal life in which she had been begging for peace from God for the past four years. She explained how she felt she had "tried everything" and how she wanted to simply resign herself to trusting God to take care of this, and she hoped it would be during this conference. She started to cry a little as she explained how the song my grandfather wrote was used by God that she would be touched by the Spirit and finally have peace. Our God is an awesome God. She even says to me, "I don't know what made you want to go up there and perform that," as if it was obvious that I had no specific or pressing motives. Hmm, how interesting and blessed. Thanks, God!


Winter Conference was fun and I'd do it again if I thought it wise. We shall see, we shall see, we shall see.