Harry Potter is of the devil?

I’m about to open up a can of worms in the Christian Evangelical subculture. Please don’t get too judgemental on me.

I received a very humble and respectful email asking me about my rational for reading Harry Potter. This individual saw it in a blog post somewhere. Some of you who are reading this are outside Evangelical Christianity, and you may not know that this is even an issue. But Christians everywhere think Harry Potter is of the devil, that it is introducing witchcraft to children. I tried to email the person who asked me about this, but their server is bouncing my emails back at me. So, I thought I would post the emails here, hoping that this person will come back and read my response on my blog.

Here is the question that I received:
“I have an honestly sincere question for you. Upfront I want you to know that I am asking out of a genuine desire to understand. My husband and I saw you on It’s A New Day and agreed with you and respected what you had to say(and appreciated the heart you showed). You backed it all up with scripture too,not just experience.

Can you please help me understand where you are coming from with the whole Harry Potter thing(read something on your blog)?Harry Potter uses witchcraft( right?…that is my understanding ) so what makes it ‘good’ in your eyes ?

I sincerely don’t get it but want to understand.”

So, here is what I tried to email to her:

Thanks so much for writing. I appreciate the honesty and humility with which you’ve asked the question. For a long time I just accepted the fear propaganda that is constantly being issued by the church. I too thought Harry Potter was evil, but had never read it for myself to really know. I just took the word of other Christian leaders. I was actually very surprised when I finally looked into it. To me, it is just a story. It is fantasy. It is fiction. I appreciate it as literature. The magic is over the top, not real spells as practised by witches in our day. My family reads it as fiction, with no interest in dabbling into witchcraft. It is a story, and we see it in the same light as “Lord of the Rings” or “Chronicles of Narnia.” I know others may disagree, but this is where we are at, with a clear conscience. I don’t believe that there is a conspiracy behind it, just an genuine writer using her imagination to tell a story. The story has the same elements that most stories do, the idea of good verses evil, and that there is this special hero of whom it has been foretold that he will defeat the evil protagonist. The writing itself is very good, and the story is entertaining.

I hope this helps you understand where I’m coming from.

coming to Vancouver

I am going to Vancouver at the end of this month. On Saturday, March 31, we will be having a day long gathering where I will be sharing the ideas from my book, which also includes times of dialogue. I really enjoy interacting with people over these issues. It should be informative, fun and maybe even inspiring. If you live in the Vancouver area, please consider being a part of this.

Here is some info:

March 31, 2007
SURREY CONFERENCE CENTRE, Building 400, Conference Room #3
#400 – 9260 140th St., Surrey
9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.

You have to register for this event, and it should be done by the end of this week. For more information please contact Grace Wiebe at gracew@idmail.com or CHCRN@DiscipleTheNations.org. (The cost of the event is only $5.)

Thanks. I hope to see some of you there.

ideas for life

At least 4 or 5 times a week I drive by this huge billboard. It’s an advertisement for a electronics store called Advance. It features a television called Viera. The ad also includes a caption that says, “ideas for life.” I drove by this sign for almost six months before I realized that God might be speaking to me. Yes, you read that right. I don’t get angels visiting me. I usually don’t experience the Divine reaching out to me in my dreams at night. I don’t hear voices like Joan of Arc did, or meet angelic visitors like Joan of Arcadia does. I look for signs. Paulo Coelho, author of The Alchemist, calls them omens. These are the daily signals that God gives us to peek our interest. He hides Himself in the mundane for those who have the eyes to see it. I’m not sure why, but God loves to play hide and seek. His will is not always clear, and this requires us to walk blindly. It requires faith and trust. These are qualities that God seems to like.

Anyway, the message was there, loud and clear, just for me. I’m a little thick, so God made sure that my name was on this huge sign. It still took me months to see it. Here is the message: Viera! Advance in your ideas for life! Okay, the name is spelled a little differently (my name is Vieira), but it’s pronounced the same way. I remember the day it hit me. God was telling me to go for it. After years of character building obscurity and difficulty, God was telling me it was now time to move. Since the billboard has been up (for almost two years now), my creative side has erupted. Not only was I able to publish my book, but I have several other projects on the go.

This weekend I’m going to be getting together with two other friends to develop a TV show idea. We have an opportunity to pitch it to a producer. Also, I will be going into the studio next month to record an album. I’ll talk about that more another time. I am also writing a short film screenplay that would communicate some of the themes in my book using a completely different medium. The potential is very exciting.

Anyway, the sign is still up. I keep waiting for a new image to be put up on the billboard to let me know what is coming next. Most likely it will be a muscular half-naked male underwear supermodel. I suppose that will be my next career.

I’m getting to know myself better

I received an email today from someone who saw me on TV, who hadn’t seen me since 1992. He didn’t say much about the show, but he did mention my hair. Yes, he liked my new hair. That’s right! I used to have short hair. Actually, I’m absolutely sure that how I look on the outside is only a reflection of how I’ve changed within. I used to be so bound up with religiosity and self righteousness. I had so many voices in my head. These voices were the residual cognitive echos of sermons and words of caution from spiritual leaders in my past. They were part of a religious construct, rooted in fear and control. I constantly second guessed myself, my motives and my actions, all in the name of living righteously. Looking back, I was only trying to please men. In the process, I lost who I was. I lost sight of who God made me to be. I was so afraid to fail or to look bad in the eyes of all those watching me, I never learned how to really live. I didn’t know that God accepts me for who I am; moreover, He likes me for who I am. He made me the way I am. God takes pleasure in me and in what I do as an extension of who I am. It all eventually points to God’s very own beauty as reflected in us. I feel free now. You can even see it on my face and in how I look. Check out these before and after photos. Before I was freed from religion is on your left and the ‘after’ photo is on your right.

Look at the first picture. My shirt is plaid; small evenly spaced boxes, uniform, linear and predictable. I am smiling, but it’s for a picture. I know how I felt inside. I felt trapped like a caged animal. Look at the second picture. The animal has been released. ( No, that is not an animal clinging to my head. It’s my hair.) I like my hair longer. I didn’t know that before. In fact, there is so much about myself that I’m only now getting to know.

My mother told me the other day that she’s getting to know me better by reading my blog. The first thing that came out of my mouth was, “You know mom, I’m getting to know myself better.” I’m learning who I am because all the other voices have been silenced. I just don’t hear them anymore. It’s wonderful and it’s great to be alive.

And this is what I look like when I reenter the Matrix:

an English teacher finds his hope in “grace”

I have a great part time job where I get to teach English to immigrants. Specifically, I teach a couple of pronunciation classes. I help my students become more comprehensible. We work on improving their enunciation of the individual sounds of vowels and consonants. More importantly, I teach them the rhythm and music of our language. They learn how to stress the syllables and words that should be stressed and reduce the rest. I teach them the familiar intonation patterns of our language, along with how to divide their speech into appropriate groupings of words with regular pauses. For native English speakers, we don’t even realize that there is a science to how we speak. My job is to teach English learners the rules and patterns of this science. What we know instinctively, they must work very hard to master. In fact, they do work hard.

I teach adults who see learning English as the only hurdle in the way to realizing their dreams in this new land of opportunity. My students were professionals in their native countries, and many of them are desperately seeking to improve their English skills to be able to do here what they did back home. I think of one of my students who was a doctor in China. She practised medicine for 15 years before immigrating to Canada. Since she’s been here, she hasn’t been able to land a very good job. The problem? English. That is where I come in. Actually, I feel the weight of responsibility when I see how some of my students look to me. They see me as a key person in their struggle to survive, and hopefully even thrive, in this foreign culture. I feel that I do make a difference, and I find this to be very rewarding. I really appreciate my job. I love the people that I work with. They are all very dedicated to what they do. I have tremendous respect for all of them. I also love being with people from every continent on the planet. I have the whole world in my classroom: Asians, Arabs, Jews, Russians, Europeans, Africans and South Americans. They are beautiful people and I am privileged to work with them.

My students are very eager to learn about Canadian society. Most of them are genuinely curious and interested in our culture. Once in a while, one of my students will ask me a more personal question. They may ask me about my family, background, values or beliefs. This past week, a student asked me if I believed in Karma. He is from India, and of course, as a Hindu, he believes that what we do in this life will come back on us in this life or in another life. Let me say that I am very respectful of other cultures, beliefs and religions. At my workplace, my job is to teach English and not to teach others about my faith. However, when a student wants to know what I think, I try to be respectful and answer their questions. I told him that I did believe in Karma, that there seems to be this law in the universe that says, “you get what you deserve.” A similar idea is echoed in Christianity – “you reap what you sow.” I told him, “If that was the only law, then I would be in big trouble, because I’ve messed up a lot.” Luckily, both physical and spiritual reality have some laws that overcome other laws. For example, the law of gravity says that what goes up must come down. However, the law of aerodynamics can cause us to defy the laws of gravity. What goes up doesn’t have to come down, at least not just yet. Likewise, there is a spiritual law that defies Karma. This law can cause us to rise above Karma. I’m talking about Grace. If Karma is “you get what you deserve,” then Grace is “you get what you don’t deserve.” It’s kindness when you deserve anger. It’s acceptance when you deserve rejection. It’s love in the face of hate. It’s mercy when you deserve judgement. Without Grace, Karma would surely keep us down, never to sore into the heavens that we might see the face of God. However, Grace makes a way. It short-circuits Karma, and that is very good news…especially for me. I could see, by the smile that came across his face, that my new Hindu friend was also pleased by this revolutionary idea called “Grace.”

my kids inspire me

I love my children. They absolutely inspire me. Being a father is the most important thing in my life. I want to do all I can to help them become anything they want to be.

The other day, we were visiting another family at their home. They have a piano in the living room. Both my sons couldn’t resist the opportunity to perform and entertain everybody. I was also like this as a kid. I remember doing a stand up comedy routine in front of a room full of relatives, using the jokes that I learned and memorized from watching the 70’s show Welcome Back Carter. I loved making people laugh or cry. I still do. Anyway, back to my boys.

They politely interrupted our adult conversation to announce that they were going to play for us the music compositions that they had created on the piano. My sons are 9 and 6 years old. Listen to these amazing songs:

my oldest son J

my younger son B

My oldest son has been working on a story idea for the past few years. He has written down part of it in a “creative writing” book that he keeps on his shelf. He has also typed some of the story into his laptop. However, most of it can be seen in the numerous comics that he’s drawn. It is a fantasy story set in a world found in a parallel universe. The protagonist, a boy named Charlie, finds a secret inter-dimensional portal that takes him on an epic journey. The story is solid. Believe me, I’ve asked him questions to try to find the holes in the plot and he always has an answer. He has really thought this through. His plan is to eventually put this amazing story onto film.

The other day, J and I ran some errands together, which included a trip to the comic book store. He told me all about the latest development of his legend. He’s been working on a pre-history to how this world was created. He explained how in the beginning there were three planes of reality, one lying upon another like sheets of paper. The bottom plane, he called “the shadow world.” The middle plane was named “nothingness.” The highest plane was called “the heavens,” and it was home to six sages. Their main task was to protect the “power.” You see, the “power” could be used to create new realities, but those realities would reflect the nature of the one who wielded it. Well, there was a seventh sage. His domain was “the shadow world.” In fact, my son calls him the Shadow Sage. As the legend goes, he eventually overpowers the other six defenders of the “power” and uses it to create a universe within the plane of “nothingness.” This universe reflects the dark nature of the Shadow Sage. It is into this universe that the story takes place.

I have no doubt in my mind that J will become the film maker that he wants to be. I could have the next Spielberg or Peter Jackson living here in my house. I’m trying to expose my son to a very broad range of creative masterpieces. I think the Lord of the Rings trilogy has definitely fueled his imagination and has shown him the power that the human story can have in the creative process. On that note, let me leave you with this image as a close to this post. May I present to you my two boys as the Hobbits, Frodo and Sam:

watch me online

Last month I spent an afternoon in a TV studio recording two shows for the program “It’s A New Day.” It is an interview style program, where I get the opportunity to share a bit of my story and talk about my book. So, I just wanted to let you all know that it will be aired by television and streamed via the Internet next week on Monday and Tuesday, February 26 & 27, 2007. You can view the program online every hour commencing at 12 Noon to 9 a.m. Central Time. Simply log onto the website at http://www.newday.org, click on “Watch Us Online” and follow the instructions there. (This programming will also repeat every three hours online over the weekend of March 2-4.)

“encounter with my high school temptress”

In my last post I talked about how the name Come to the Cross came to be. It was the title of a song that I had written at the time. The song came out of an experience with temptation. I haven’t thought about this for years, but this recent post jogged my memory. Let me tell you what happened.

Like all good stories, this one is about a girl. I’m talking about a very beautiful girl that I once knew in a past life called “high school.” We were cast-mates in the school play. As a result, we spent a lot of time together. Did I mention that she was ‘hot’? Well anyway, one particular night after rehearsal, she cornered and propositioned me. I’m talking about a full frontal attack; she was right up against me, looking into my eyes, licking her lips, and I could feel her breath on my face. I politely asked her to move, and she responded by saying, “So what are you going to do about it?” Let me tell you, every hormone in my sixteen year old body was pleading with me,”Kiss her, you idiot!” For a moment I was happy to oblige. I found myself falling into the lure of this teenage goddess, coming under her wicked spell. I knew that if I crossed the line that she dared me to cross, I would being going to a place that I vowed I would not yet tread. I was keeping myself for the one I would one day spend the rest of my life with. Honestly, in that moment, when she had me, something woke me from my stupor. I suddenly realized what was happening and where this thing was going. I did the only thing I could do; I ran.

Over the next few days, I was really shaken up. I was overtaken with desire. Although I escaped the situation, the feelings stuck to me like fly paper. I felt helpless. I became acutely aware of this thing in me that wanted pleasure in defiance of personal conviction. It’s something that we all have to live with. As humans, there is a part of us that wants things that will ultimately destroy us. Something, lurking within us all, is constantly trying to pull us towards evil…greed, pride, lust. For those who don’t give themselves over to these basic instincts, who try to live with some form of moral code, life can be a burden. This is the burden I carried for days after the encounter with my high school temptress.

So now we come to the part of the story where the main character has a breakthrough, an “epiphany” if you will.

I told a friend of mine what had happened and he celebrated my escape from the girl’s clutches as a victory. However, internally there was no victory. All that week, I played the scene over and over again on the stage of my imagination, but with a different outcome. My mind went in the opposite direction of my feet. In my heart, I had succumbed to the temptress. I felt dark inside. But it was in this darkness that the light of truth became even brighter. “What truth?” you ask.
- that God embraces us in our weakness
- that we must run into the arms of God when we fail
- that when our evil-biased nature gets the better of us, we are even more so the recipients of grace
- that God’s love and acceptance of us is not based on our performance
- that God has forgiven the sins of the world through the sacrificial act of Jesus’ body on a cross
- and that it is because of this cross that I can stand safe in the very presence of God.

Thus, the song “Come to the Cross.” Thus, the revelation given to a teenage boy in the midst of temptation. The cross is about a man who willingly took the punishment for crimes that He didn’t commit, to let the guilty ones go free. The sentence has been served and the punishment issued. Therefore, there is no more guilt, nor wrath. The cross is about relieving sinners of guilt. It created the reality that we can know God without fear of wrath or rejection. We can come as we are. His grace matches our depravity. It is this truth that set me free from the prison of guilt and fear. Still, it would take almost another 20 years for this truth to move from being nice theology to becoming my daily experience. I hope it doesn’t take you that long.

i used to be the buffed leader of a youth movement

I was only 16 years old when the youth movement began. You can read about it in the first chapter of my book. It started with a handful of friends meeting in my parent’s basement to pray and sing. No one told us to do this. It just happened. My friends and I were very hungry to know God. There was nothing special about us. God just decided to reveal Himself to us in a very personal and powerful way. We were kids who had now experienced God for ourselves. We moved from a place of inheriting our parents’ religion to having our eyes opened to the reality of God’s love. In no time at all, there were 50 of us gathering in my home. We prayed for hours. I’ve never really prayed like that since.

It was in the summer of 1988 that we decided to move this youth prayer night from our house to a public facility. We would hold monthly rallies that would continue what was started. (over the next year, we would see our numbers grow to over 700 teens) That summer, I also broke my leg in a soccer match. As a result, I spent two months with a casted leg, hopping around with crutches. One day during this time, I asked my friends to join me in a conversation that would decide what we would call this new youth movement. While we deliberated, I had someone paint on my cast the title of a song that I had written. We thought of all kinds of names and most of them were terrible. We weren’t getting anywhere. Finally, in a sigh of exhaustion and defeat, we all simultaneously looked down at the words that had just been freshly painted on my leg. There it was right before our eyes the whole time: “Come to the Cross”

Just the other day I noticed that I had this picture that proves this rather odd story of how Come to the Cross was named.

Yes, I am practically naked in this picture. But please try to not be distracted by my flat pecs. Look at the cast. It’s the cast that’s important. Truthfully, when I look at this picture, I don’t even see the cast with the beautiful words on it. The only thought that comes to my mind is, “Look how thin I look!” What has happened to me? I’ve gotten so big. All these extra pounds have come out of no where. It’s like I just woke up one morning and “poof,” I was fat. Actually, it happened after I got married. Can I blame this on marriage? Maybe I can pin this one on my wife. No, no…it’s not her fault. Thank God she still loves me this way. How did I let myself get so big?

Well, I know all you kind people out there probably think I’m not that fat, but you’ve never seen me without a shirt. What I could do, just so you can see the difference, is take off my shirt, put a cast on my leg and take a picture of me now. We could do a comparison study. See how Paul has changed. No, that would be wrong. I couldn’t do that to you. It would be much too frightening. No, let’s just leave this picture up on my blog and remember me the way I used be. Maybe, my publisher will let me use this picture in the next printing of my book, on the “about the author” page.

my very own “Weird Al”

In my last post I talked about how my wife maintains this delicate balance of warm affection and allusive behaviour that keeps me chasing after her. I also posted the lyrics of a song that I wrote about it. Writing songs for or about my wife is the precise example I can use to explain how she escapes my every attempt at capturing her. Most people think it is quite romantic that I write songs to my wife. I remember singing one of those songs publicly one particular time and a young teenage girl came up to me afterward and said, “Your wife is so lucky to have a husband like you.” I smiled and nodded and thought it was cute. So the minute I got home, I told my wife what the girl had said, hoping to prod her into an emotional state of appreciation for her amazing husband who writes her love songs. Without missing a beat, she said, “Oh that’s nice dear. Did you remember to take out the garbage?”

This type of nonchalant response only fuels my fire. It makes me strive even harder to write her the song of all songs, the one that will bring her to tears, the song t0 end all love songs. So I keep writing the melodies and the lyrics. Music is my language. It’s the clearest and purest way for me to say what’s in my heart. However, my wife doesn’t make it easy. It’s like she knows that I can do better, that there is more inside of me that needs to be teased out. Sometimes my wife will rewrite satire versions of my own music. I’ve called her my very own personal “Weird Al” Yankovic. (Yankovic is known in particular for his humorous songs that make light of pop culture and that parody specific songs by contemporary musical acts.)

Here, I’ll give you an example. I wrote a very deep song that reflects the journey of me asking the questions that shook the very foundation of what I learned in church. The chorus goes like this:

Block all the exists and lock all the doors
no one is leaving til I find out more
I’m asking the questions I tried to ignore
but will I find peace in the answers
if there are any answers at all

The melody sounds a little “folky,” so my wife thought it could be easily transformed into an Irish pub song. When she sings it, she staggers, slurs her speech, and in an drunken Irish accent sings:

lock all your doors and hide all your babies
Daddy is at it again
he loves to kiss and cuddle his girlies
but his whiskers, the irritate skin

To be honest, this doesn’t bother me. It’s actually very funny. But I must leave you with this hopeful thought. The other day, I sang one of my latest tunes for her and she was mine. She was eating out of my hand. I had her, at least for a moment…