Get your knit on Sunday 26 of April 12:30 pm.

Bring a lunch and come prepared to relax and enjoy your afternoon.

Location 7712-83 ave.

Contact Cheryl Muth cherylmuth@shaw.ca

April 24th – Dave Von Bieker at The Carrot
Time: 7:30 PM. Cover: $5.
Come hear some new songs and a new banjo!

Cora McLachlan and Dave Von Bieker are performing together at The Blue Chair

Time: 8 PM. Cover: $10.

A rare treat! Cora and Dave will be playing together on each other’s songs as well as doing some solo songs. Come for great food, atmosphere, community and of course music.

The Taylor Community Choir performs A Jubilant Sunday!

Where: Lendrum Mennonite Brethren Church (11210 59 Ave, Edmonton)

This program will feature oratio choruses by Brahms, Haydn, Shutz, as well as anthems, new compositions and arrangements of traditional spirituals.

Admission is FREE (offering will be taken).

Presented by the Taylor University College Performing Arts Department.

Artist Lewis Lavoie will be part of the Urban Bridge conversation as he discusses Christ, Faith and Art .

He has a fascinating story to tell.

Check out http://www.lavoiestudios.com/, or http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x41zb2_lewis-lavoie_creation (below)

Join us for an evening of art and sound, as well as the release of the third Bridge Songs album.

June 6, 7 PM
Avenue Theatre | 9030 118th Ave, Edmonton

We are looking for artists! Art of ANY kind is welcome (including musicians, poets, performance artists, dancers, painters, photographers, sculptors, mixed media …) This year we are focusing thematically on fear and our response to it. Think death, resurrection, hope, despair, darkness, light, abandonment, community. The theme can be broadly interpreted, but artists should ask themselves “as a Christ follower, what am I afraid of, what does that say of me, and what is my response to the fear?”. Any piece that arises from asking such questions will fit nicely.

All interested artists should contact art@urbanbridgechurch.com
www.bridgesongs.ca

Calling all artists!

City Centre is putting on another art show at the end of this month, and we have the opportunity to get involved.

They are looking for filmmakers, photographers, painters, singers … all artists really … who’d like to show their art at this event.

You can get more details on their website at

The Book Club meets at various homes at 6 PM on Saturdays.

NEXT BOOK CLUB

Our next meeting is at 7 pm on Sat. Jan. 24th. It will be held at Beth McLachlan’s home which is located at #21 (third floor) 11906 104 St. Ring buzzer #21 to get in. In case you need to phone her, you can do so at 780-868-0312. We will be discussing “The Kite Runner” and Beth will also be serving dessert. See you there!

Down the Road

Watch for the next meeting March 28.

For more information contact Jeff Hamm jv.hamm@gmail.com or 780-998-7898

He should be feeling sad about things, maybe even feel sorry for himself. His hand was heavily bandaged, wrapped in clean strips of cloth to protect the stubs that were his two missing fingers and George also missed the big yellow dog, Fido. He would instinctively respond to yellow dog rustlings but be disappointed in the counterfeit noise of wind and rodents that mimicked but could not replace his faithful companion. Still, even the jarring ox cart that multiplied the pulsing pain in the injured hand couldn’t trump the smile on his face. This was a strange feeling for George, to be happy; content in difficult circumstances. If only Emma could…., oh Emma would. She would listen to how he had overcome so many difficulties and learned things about himself. She would hear him say how sorry he was, and how much he loved her. This was George’s promise to himself and to Emma. His journal had become a truthful testament to this change. He prayed it wasn’t too late.
The happy reasons for his present state sat on the raised box at the head of the cart. Two sets of broad shoulders wrapped in simple cloth blocked his view of the team of oxen drawing him nearer the Great Landowner. Mr and Mrs. Elder, or as they insisted Sardis and Beatrix had come upon George in the forest as he lay sobbing. Half carrying him, the husband and wife moved him deeper into the woods, away from the awfulness of the mine with its pit. Away from Arman, away from the big yellow dog.
Their story burrowed deep into George. A long time ago they too were on their own quest to meet the Great Landowner but the city of Briet with its energetic broad streets and wealth had diverted them, finally Arman’s promises had deceived them.
Once their money was gone and their usefulness worn flat, the Elders found themselves slaving in the mine pit. They had each other and lasted longer than most, but the end was inevitable until one day they were distracted by cursing and barking. The guards were trying to drive away a dog and they succeeded. But the large dog was persistent and returned to the pit repeatedly. Placing its paws near the edge, its bottomless rich bark would echo over the yawn of the abyss, and again the guards away would drive it away. If Arman was present his abuse would overlay the landscape like a cursed blanket. That persistent barking presence pushed back the desolation in the Elder’s lives enough to give the couple an idea. They would find away to share their food with the dog.
They found a moment and sneaked to the spot where the dog always returned. Bending to place the food they were confronted by the big yellow animal. With hands of mouldy bread extended they pursued him and finally when the dog paused they were far from the pit. They simply continued on. The big yellow dog disappeared and they became part of a loose network of rescuers.
Best of all, they told George of the Great Landowner and his visits. When they did they smiled and their eyes smiled. Beatrix would end each story with the inevitable, “and George, he is so handsome” to which Sardis would respond, “Aw, woman I wouldn’t know about that, but he is a man’s man.” Then they would laugh, loudly, gleefully and Sardis would run that large paw of a hand over his face, rubbing the tears into submission. George absorbed the laughter occasionally releasing it with a giggling snort and the hilarity would continue. Yes, he should feel sad about things; maybe even feel sorry for himself, but he didn’t.
“There it is!” Beatrix un-lady like voice bellowed George awake. “Can you see the tower?” He could. The tower was the first sign of the Great Landowner’s home and it drew the ponderous oxen towards it a half-step quicker. A lake pushed against the city from the west side and wiggled its way to the city core with a network of canals. The land surrendered a variety of life that George the farmer had trouble comprehending: fruit, vegetables, shrubs, grass and trees impregnated every available spot. An array of carelessly spread pools and small lakes contrasted the green. George was so captivated by the scene that he almost missed the colossal vine covered arch marking the entrance. Passing beneath it he exclaimed. “Who built this arch?” “It is not an arch,” was Beatrix matter of fact reply, “it is a bridge.” Indeed it was. George could not let go, “Why build a bridge where there is no need?” “There once was” was her response, as though he should know this. He caressed the wedding band tucked deep in his pocket. How would he ever describe this place to Emma?
The city was beautiful, though not more beautiful than Briet. It was large, though not larger than Briet. Yet it was everything Briet was not. Permanent was one way in which to describe it. The city had been in place for a very long time and gave the sense of stability and hope and assurance – peace. There was something else. What was it?
Connected was another way to describe what George felt. People were talking to one another. Vigorous discussions, consoling intimacy, laughter, direction giving. Peering down the side streets George could see a mish-mash of intimate streets and courtyards and with rare exception doors were open creating a free-for-all movement of bodies in transparent relationship. It was though he was peering into their lives. And even in the haphazard intensity there was what could only be described as a feeling of well-being. George was himself taken up with this sense of well-being and though he realized he may have missed his one opportunity to meet the Landowner he knew that it would be okay. He would make due with his dry, unproductive land if need be.
Sardis pulled the cart into a stable. “This is as far as the cart can take us; grab your things George we need to find the Landowner. George grabbed the pack with his good hand and hoisted it over his back; the remains of wine in the flask swished a reminder of other, less joyful times.
“Where can we find the landowner?” George asked a shop keeper. “Hard to know, he is always about, but if you take this lane you are sure to find him sooner or later.” Off they went and at each turn they would ask the same question and in turn each question resulted in the same answer. Through side streets, courtyards, even kitchens and gardens they passed, and in each case their appearance and question was not an interruption. Poor Sardis and Beatrix soon realized they needed to spend more time off the ox cart forcing George to slow his anxious pace, which he did without complaint.
The lane opened into a very large courtyard. Its size surprised George. Benches, gardens, random groupings of chairs, and fish ponds filled the space. A hum of animated conversation pulled George to the large group in the middle. A young man and woman on the perimeter were listening to the hum intently. George asked “Can you tell where I can find the Great Landowner?” The young man seemed surprised by the question. “Where? Here, and if you listen closely you can hear him.”
George mimicked the response, “here? “Yes here,” the young woman laughed. George was suddenly very nervous, his ears felt warm, and the fingerless stumps throbbed, “I am on a quest, and I was to meet him but missed my appointment. I, I need to speak to him, who can make an appointment for me?
The young man shifted from George, focusing on the centre of the activity he shouted, “Sir, a traveller says he must speak to you!”
The hum subsided immediately, and in the momentary silence George felt equal parts elation and dread. “Does the traveller have a name!” a clear voice in the middle asked.” What is your name?” said the young woman, “George” George whispered. “George!” shouted the young woman, “his name is George!” “George!” said the clear voice “come here!”
The mass of men and women parted as he, Sardis and Beatrix shuffled their way in. And each one smiled and their eyes smiled.
The Great Landowner was seated at a small round table. The Landowner stood, yes he was handsome and he certainly was a man’s man, but he was so much more. He hugged Sardis and Beatrix which resulted in Sardis pawing away more tears. Then he took George by the hand, pulling him close he peered intently into the farmer’s eyes and whispered, “George the farmer. You are late” he paused… “But not too late.” And he smiled and his eyes smiled.
The great hall was prepared for a banquet, occupying the centre was an extended table. To George who was really just a simple farmer it seemed set for a king. The Great Landowner placed himself not at the end but in the middle. George was stunned by whom he saw at the table. He scanned the room slowly fastening a surprised gaze on each guest, who in turn smiled and their eyes smiled. For each chair was occupied by someone who had helped him in his quest. To the Great Landowner’s right the space was vacant and on the floor was a cushion, next was the ancient, and even here the pungent earthy aroma was present, on the Landowner’s left sat Charis from Benignus. Directly across Malte and Cathmore waved and nodded. Sardis and Beatrix were to the left of the brothers and grinned broadly. Then, an enormous door swung open and in strode Lewis with his great thick soled boots along with Bess and Mary. George ran to meet them. Finally, George was placed at the head of the table.
The sound of clicking on hardwood echoed against the stone walls, the sound was heading towards him. Curious, George rose and half turned, only to be knocked down by a slightly limping, large yellow dog, his companion, Fido.
After the shouting and weeping and barking subsided the dog took his place on the cushion by his master, the Great landowner.
“George,” called the Landowner, “lets deal with your most urgent business first” He continued “you have come to petition me, remind me, what is it you demand?” George had done it; he could not believe that he had completed his quest that he was in a position to argue for his right to better land.
“My petition sir,” he paused, “my need for more, he stopped again,” “has been fulfilled.” “How is that?” was the landowner’s intense reply. “My quest for more has been fulfilled by the men and women seated here. My land is fine, I am the one lacking. If I may, please allow me to return to my farm and to Emma, and I will make you proud.”
“So be it, George will return to his land” shouted the Great Landowner, “George” he continued “there is one thing I cannot give and that is Emma. If she will have you back, then you are hers.” “I understand,” George replied. The Ancient stood, “I would propose a toast to George in honour of the completion of his quest, but we seem to have forgotten the wine.” He smirked, “George will you provide the wine?”
If ever there was a right time to savour the wine in the flask, this was it. He was in the company of friends and it was a fitting time to refresh those who had helped him succeed in his quest. But he had wasted so much of the wine prematurely that there would never be enough to go around. “My ancient friend, the flask is all but empty”. The
Ancient was insistent, “Well let’s pour what you have,” and everyone at the table nodded. So George poured and he poured and the perfectly aged wine with its magical bouquet refreshed and renewed his friends.
As the Great Landowner’s guest George spent much of his remaining time at the small round table in the large courtyard listening in silence as he observed the inspiring dance of life orchestrated by the Landowner. George realized that he could be this example to his people. He knew where he belonged.
The journey home was completed with a sense of purpose. One unknown remained, would Emma have him back. His friends, who accompanied him as far as their various departing points advised him, coached him and teased him. Finally on the last leg he was alone and George’s resolve clashed hard against his insecurities.
When he arrived at the border of his farm the silhouette of the cottage against the darkened sky scared him. Inside, the light of the table lamp revealed an occasional shadow which he guessed must be Emma; another lower quicker shadow confused him. “This is so very hard. What now, what if she says no?”
Well, it was certainly too late to go on tonight he reasoned, after all there was no sense in frightening Emma. He would wait till morning.
He coasted jerkily into a fretful sleep. He dreamed he and Emma were kissing. It had been so long, and in his dream Emma was the way he remembered her in the beginning: gentle, subtle, caring.
She began to kiss his chin, cheeks and forehead: murmuring her love for him: it was an affection long pushed to the back of their relationship. Emma’s murmuring was morphing into soft growls which quite frankly startled George; but her breath was sweet just as he had remembered. He jolted to a sitting position! Emma clung to him sobbing and laughing at the same time, and a puppy with big paws and a yellow coat dropped back to its haunches, pleased to have roused the man on the ground.

The end.

The fruit of Joy: Rejoicing Love
The fruit of joy is a paradox. It most often finds it expression in difficult times
Joy results from two different actions
One, joy is an expression of love that results from living a life of peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. If you want joy then be and do these things
Christ said John 15: 8 When you produce much fruit, you are my true disciples. This brings great glory to my Father. 9 “I have loved you even as the Father has loved me. Remain in my love. 10 When you obey my commandments, you remain in my love, just as I obey my Father’s commandments and remain in his love. 11 I have told you these things so that you will be filled with my joy. Yes, your joy will overflow!
Second living fruitful lives does not guarantee a happy outcome but God tells us joy is not influenced by the outcome but by living fruitful lives regardless of the outcome.
Ac 5:41 The apostles left the Sanhedrin, rejoicing because they had been counted worthy of suffering disgrace for the Name.
42 Day after day, in the temple courts and from house to house, they never stopped teaching and proclaiming the good news that Jesus is the Christ.

Here is the campaign video for “Believe”. Watch it, believe and keep Fido alive in your heart!

Also, you can check out all of UBCs vidoes on our site at http://urbanbridgechurch.com/wordpress/index.php/ubc-videos/