Chasing the Wild Goose

3 Canadians, a Honda Civic, camping stuff, a camera, junk food, a barely functional GPS on life support named Garmina, a passport, a 5000 Km round trip, a stop at InterVarsity Press in Chicago, two tornado systems, heavy rain, a near miss with a moose, 75+ deer, nearly running out of gas, scrambling for money at Interstate highway toll booths, accidently missing one of those toll booths, too many Big Mac’s, unethically dirty gas station washrooms, the need to embrace a temporary showerless life, a well used bladder, a beard, a bunch of free books, a few bought books, camping with new and awesome American friends, new connections, a somewhat confusing Kentucky accent, David Bazan, a Margot Starbuck experience, pizza party with a bunch of authors,  and a Tony Campolo handshake pretty much encapsulated the EPIC round trip to and from the 4 day Wild Goose Festival at some place called Shakori Hills in North Carolina.

I heard about the Greenbelt Festival in England.  A yearly gathering of likeminded folks who love Jesus.  A celebration of art, social justice, music and Jesus with a great speaker line up to boot.  I heard that it is an amazing experience.  When my dear friend Jamie Arpin-Ricci texted me to see if I wanted to go to the Wild Goose Festival in North Carolina, the North American version of Greenbelt, I jumped at the chance.

The experience was well worth it.  The speaker line up was amazing.  Tony Campolo, Richard Rohr, Ian Cron, Brian McLaren, Richard Twiss, Paul Knitter, Mark Scandrette, Sean Gladding, Jay Bakker, Phyllis Tickle and Frank Schaffer to name a few.  With music by Jennifer Knapp, David Bazan, The Psalters, Derek Webb and Over the Rhein, again to name a few.

An impressive collection to be sure.

                                       (Phyllis Tickle in the ‘talks’ tent)

A few ramblings…

The opportunity to rub shoulders with some of the most influential theological minds in our era, who were and continue to be significantly foundational to my development as a Christ follower and ministering person was amazing.  I saw Brian McLaren pounding back a cold one in the beer tent, Jonathan Wilson-Hargrove playing with his kids, sat around a campfire with Sean Gladding.  I ate pizza with Shane Claibourn, Tom and Christine Sine, Margot Starbuck, Mark Scandrette, Jamie Arpin-Ricci and other IVP authors (thanks to the IVP team by the way, you guys are awesome!).  It took me sitting there awkwardly for over an hour to build up the courage to join in any of the conversation.  I saw Tony Campolo sitting alone with his wife, so I shook his hand, walked away and smiled like a dork for about 10 minutes.  In the end it made them very… human.  As a consequence, my engagement with their material will benefit from this experience.

As far as the speakers were concerned, I had engaged much of the material by a good chunk of the presenters, so nothing was new. That kinda sucked.  No life changing experiences by speakers whose material in the past had in some way or another changed my theological stance on social justice, spirituality and praxis on many issues fundamental to Jesus followers in our 2011 North American and global context.  This was a weird thing, maybe because of their past impact on me, my expectations were way too high.

But there was another thing.  The Wild Goose Festival was a collection of left(ish) wing Christian folks.  So in some of the presentations there was a ‘preaching to the choir’ feel to it.  That element was a bit frustrating, particularly in the sexuality panel where the conservative slant was implicitly bashed, yet almost patronizingly identified as a potential point of view of some of the attenders.  It seemed like a cheesy attempt to respect the view of the right.  It felt disrespectful to some extent.

One major exception to the ‘preaching to the choir’ bit was David Bazan’s set.  Given his fairly recent disassociation with Christianity it was delightfully awkward seeing him perform songs from his ‘Curse Your Branches’ and ‘Strange Negotiations’ albums.  After every two or three songs he would ask, in a somewhat rhetorical sense if ‘there are any questions?’ pretty funny given the doubtful and pointed critique of Christianity found in his lyric. The silence of the crowd and random shouts of “play some Pedro songs” felt like a missed opportunity for a beautiful dialogue between an artist and his audience even given the tone of his questions.  The performance was raw, honest, and his talent oozed from the guitar strings into the mic and seemed to flow into a pointed lyric via his Bazan’ian’ voice.  It certainly gave people food for thought as his honesty in his songs was refreshing.  One of the highlights of the whole weekend for me.  Though I am a huge Bazan fan.

The whole ‘preaching to the choir’ dynamic bothered me for much of the 2500 km drive home.  But then it hit me right around the time we almost hit a moose in northern Michigan.

The Wild Goose Festival of 2011 was a celebration of a raw and beautiful message.  A message of hope grounded in and inspired by faith in Jesus.   People came from all over the continent gathered in the name of chasing after the Holy Spirit.  It was people seeking to live, loving God and neighbour while following in the footsteps of Christ.  Yes it was a collection of Jesus lovin’, left wing, social justice seekin’, artistic, like-minded individuals.  But it was a wonderful place to connect with others from all over North America (and other places) striving for the same thing.

A beautiful Trinitarian God.

Yes it was pretty groovy shaking hands with some of the more influential theologians in my life, but it was awesome to have conversations about life, ministry, spirituality, social justice and following Jesus in 2011 with regular, everyday people.  It felt like a party.  Wild Goose, I do not know if we will meet again.  I sure hope so, cause you were awesome!  Long live the Wild Goose Festival.

Here are a few people who joined the party.

• Anna Snoeyenbos – Wild Goose Festival – A Spirit of Life Revival
• Lee Smith – Goose Bumps: Opportunities Everywhere for Offense. A Fair and Objective Review
• Ryan Hines – 30 Years Later – “Controversy” at Wild Goose
• Karyn Wiseman – Flying With the Goose
• Kyla Cofer – I went to the Wild Goose Fest and came back in love
• Brian Gerald Murphy – Born Again (Again) at Wild Goose
• Chris Lenshyn – Chasing the Wild Goose
• Cherie at Renaissance Garden – Wild Goose Return
• Deborah Wise – Wild Goose Chasing
• Custodianseed – “every day they eat boiled goose”
• Will Norman – Back from the Wild Goose Fest
• Martin at Exiles in NY – Greenbelt and the Wild Goose
• Kerri at Practicing Contemplative – Waterfowl in My Life
• Allison Leigh Lilley – Chasing the Wild Goose and Catching the Wild Goose: Thanks and First Thoughts and A Pagan Goes To The Wild Goose – Part One
• Abbie Waters – Jessica: A Fable
• Steve Knight – Why Wild Goose Festival Was So Magical
• Tammy Carter – Visual Acuity and Flying
• Michelle Thorburg Hammond – I heart Jay Bakker and Peter Rollins
• Matthew Bolz-Weber – Remembering Wild Goose
• Paul Fromberg – Celebrating Interdependence Day
• David Zimmerman – Wild Goose Festival: A Recap
• Unfinished Symphony – Wild Goose Reflections – Part 1, Wild Goose Reflections – Part 2 Making Art Collages, Wild Goose Reflections – Part 3 Photoblogging, and Wild Goose Reflections – Part 4 The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
• Dan Brennan – U2, the Wild Goose, and Deep Freedom
• Mike Croghan – The Wild Goose is Not Safe
• John Martinez – The Table
• Callid Keefe-Perry – Gatekeeping the Goose
• Eric Elnes – The Inaugural Wild Goose Festival: Recovering Something Lost
• Shay Kearns – The Power of a T-Shirt, Apologizing to Over the Rhine, and Public vs. Private (Part One)
• Glen Reteif – Duck Duck Goose
• Peterson Toscano – I’ve Been Goosed, What I Carried Into Wild Goose, and What I Blurted Out at Wild Goose
• Seth Donovan – About More than “The Gays”
• Exiles in New York – Greenbelt and the Wild Goose
• Tammy Carter – Visual Acuity and Flying
• TSmith – What I’ll Take From Wild Goose
• Dale Lature – Wild Goose Reflection
• Steve Hayes – Wild Goose Chase?
• Minnow – Grace Response
• Christine Sine – Encounters With A Thin Space
• Jeremy Myers – Giving Up the Wild Goose Chase
• Robert – Thoughts On the Inaugural Wild Goose
• Anna Woofenden – Slippery Slope Reflections
• Wendy McCaig – Loosing The Goose
• Joey Wahoo – Into The Wild
• Rachel Swan – goosed
• Patricia Burlison – I Called Life
• Jason Hess – While At the Goose
• The Bec Cranford – Wild Goose
• Anthony Ehrhardt – Chasing The Wild Goose on Independence Day
• Joel DeVyldere – So Lost at Last-(In the Woods)
• MK Anderson – Listening To The Wild Goose
• Jamie Arpin-Ricci – Wild Goose Fest
• Unfinished Symphony – #5 – The Last Post … for a while

Getting to know Candace

My wife was almost 3 years old when her cousin Candace Derksen was found dead in a shed in Winnipeg.  Recently a man was convicted and subsequently sentenced for the crime of 2nd degree murder.  As extended family, we got together with many friends to reflect on the 20 plus years it took for some element of closure to take place and to read our various ‘victim impact statements.’  Katrina thought it would be a good idea to put it on this blog as a means to share with others about her experience.   Below is my beautiful wife reflecting on the cousin she never got to know.  

Katrina Lenshyn’s victim impact statement

January 17th 1985, a day that would be forever etched into my families memory, the day that my cousin Candace was found frozen to death in a shed in Winnipeg.  That happened just before my 3rd birthday.  Growing up I always knew about Candace, she was my cousin and she was murdered.  If memory serves me correctly “Have you seen Candace?” was the first novel I read the whole way through.

Growing up in BC I didn’t have much connection with my Auntie Wilma, Uncle Cliff and two cousins, Odia and Syras because they lived so far away. After moving to Winnipeg in 2003 they were the only family (on my side) that I had here. I’ve only ever known them as a family of four, and that was about to change when I walked into work one day in 2007 and saw Candace’s face on the cover of a local newspaper because they had made an arrest in her murder. I remember it hit me harder than I had anticipated and was shocked to feel tears running down my cheeks and needed a few moments to compose myself. It was after that that I started to feel connected to the cousin I never got to know. I remember going over to my Auntie Wilma’s and meeting Heidi (Candace’s best friend) and David (Candace’s friend and the last one to talk to her on the day she disappeared) and I got to hear them talk about her, not just about the tragedy, but about her as a person. This made her come alive to me, and it sounds strange but for the first time she was a person, my cousin, and not just a news headline.

When the trial started 26 years to the date that Candace was found I wasn’t sure how I was going to react, or how I was going to be a support to my family. I felt disconnected and a little uncomfortable because I never knew Candace, and wondered if it was my place to share in such an intimate, and emotional time with my family. At the same time I could feel myself starting to connect with Candace and who she was. I remember sitting in the court room waiting for it to start not knowing what to feel. That changed when they brought Mark Grant into the room and I saw him in the flesh. All of the sudden I was overwhelmed with anger, sadness, and pity. I told Chris this and he said to me “that makes sense, this man took away a cousin you never got to know”. I held onto those words, and still do.

I was only able to make it to one of the court days, and as it happened that was the day where witnesses took the stand and told the judge about the last time they saw Candace. David told us about the snowball fight that he and Candace had just before she started that fateful walk home, and I found myself imagining what she must have been like, she sounded like a fun person to be around, a cousin I could have shared a lot of laughs with. I was thankful for that day in court and for the stories that were told because nobody had ever talked about her life to me, I just knew about the way she died. I wanted to hug those witnesses for giving me a glimpse into who she was. It’s almost like I felt her there with us.

The next days and weeks passed in a whirlwind and we tried to be there for my family as much as we could. We would go to what my Aunt called “Happy Hour” at her place after each day of the trial to be there for them, encourage them, listen to what their day was like, and of course share laughter. The three days of jury deliberation we were at the courthouse trying to bide our time but of course sitting on pins and needles waiting for that call letting us know the jury had reached their verdict. I have never seen my family come together like this. Everyone coming out as much as they could to be with them, to walk with them through this uncharted territory. When that call did come in that the jury had reached their verdict, and we were all sitting there in the courtroom I’m sure you could hear a pin drop. I watched my Aunt, Uncle and cousins as the verdict was read, guilty of 2nd degree murder, and prayed, I didn’t know what to pray for, peace, forgiveness, happiness, comfort, what do you pray for at a time like that? 

The following day a memorial was held at Candace’s grave, and I was standing directly in front of her tombstone feeling more connected to her than I ever have. Through all this pain and uncertainty the one thing that I can take from this is that I got to know Candace better. The message that day, and for all the days to come, was one of forgiveness, and this is the journey we are all on, not just about what happened to Candace, but as part of being followers of Christ.

Katrina Lenshyn