This post is born of sheer frustration. I'm translating the last 20 chapters of Genesis, for another exam I have down the track. In order to get my flabby Hebrew back into shape, I'm making myself find all the verbs the hard way (i.e. in the dictionary rather than the computer).
So, I was hunting for a verb. For those of you fortunate enough not to have made the acquaintance of this recalcitrant language, there are a few tricks to verbs. They're made up of three main consonants, and the vowels (dots and dashes) are added to change the word from a noun to a verb, and all different kinds of verbs. Which is fine. Odd, but fine.
Unfortunately, some of the consonants just disappear, and some others, just for variety turn into other consonants. And of course it's more than just one consonant, so you can be sent on the biggest wild goose chase by these verbs. And they laugh. I just know it!
And that is what this verb did to me. The first and third consonant were irregular, meaning I could only be certain about the second consonant. After a frustrating half hour, I finally went and looked it up on the computer. Then, because I was feeling smug, I went back to the dictionary just to have the satisfaction of finding it in the dictionary.
It wasn't there.
Turns out the computer was wrong. In the end the second consonant was actually the first consonant, and the other two had completely disappeared, and the second consonant of the verb was attached to the beginning of the word making it look like the first consonant only it wasn't really. I can't believe this language sometimes. It takes irregularity to a whole different level and makes me wonder whether it can legally do what it's doing. Surely, there must be laws... somewhere!
But I found the verb.
Thursday, 28 December 2006
Tuesday, 26 December 2006
Evangelicalism (I) 19th Century and the Revival
Hi! Here are some of my reflections from all the reading I did for my exam. I passed, by the way! Could be long and boring, but I wouldn't know. I just find it fascinating!! :)
For those of us who are interested in people becoming Christian, the idea of 'revival' is held out at a kind of nirvana. Many, many people becoming Christians all at once is basically what a revival is all about, and that is what most of us long to see happen.
And in the 19th Century, the 'revival' was studied and various means were invented to replicate it. This is particularly the case with Finney's publication regarding Revivals, which changed the shape of revivals in America, but my interest at the moment is the UK, and the change there is considerable.
The revival fitted with church reality after the Wesley and Whitfield revivals of the late 18th Century.* But it was far more of an 'event' by the end of the 19th century. Revivals in the 18th entury particularly occurred among the lower classes, who had no access to the Bible because they couldn't read and were absent from church and didn't hear it read. The Gospel therefore was not something they were familiar with, and often heard it the first time as the W's preached.
And of course, part of the genius of the Wesley and Whitfield approach was the establishment of 'classes' in which people learned to be Christian, often learning how to read in the process.
This was often the case with subsequent revivals. They often were localised, particularly among a group of the same kind of occupation - so fishermen, etc - in the same place. Sometimes there was very little to explain them. They just happened. So, a group of men playing cards suddenly fall down on their knees and cry out to God for mercy for hours. And there's a revival. Sometimes it's more prosaic. A group of Primitive Methodists enter a village with singing and processing through the streets to the field where they try to hold their open air meeting. The village clergymen comes against them with a group of thugs, including a full band. They try to preach but can barely be heard above the band. Then, suddenly the drummer of this band is convicted of sin and then others and revival breaks out.(Presumably this is a lot easier after the drummer starts sobbing and ceases drumming). Of course, sometimes it doesn't work that easily: the preachers are beaten up and some even die in the course of events.
But mostly, these revivals look to me like quicker ways of doing mission. So, in a good church when the Gospel is preached, people in the church will be telling their friends about Jesus and bringing them along to hear the Gospel. And that means that the same kind of dynamic which we see among say the fishermen at Cornwall is at work in that church, only a lot slower. It's not that revival isn't supernatural, it's just that it's as supernatural as all other gospel work, and there's a kind of continuity between the two.
After about 1845, this changed dramatically. People are inventing ways to do revival in a dramatic way. These come to Britain from the USA often, and start to change the way revivals are perceived. The Methodists had started to seriously distance themselves from revivals from the early 1800's, but in the 1840's they send home a revivalist named James Caughey for illicit revival practice. Many Methodists are committed to revivalism and struggle with this rejection of revival and leave (and that's a story in itself). Other Evangelical denominations which have imitated many of the Methodist type strategies - church planting, small groups at churches, centralisation, etc, etc - distance themselves from revivalism also.
The kind of things which start to be a factor in revivals now characterise our understanding of 'revivals': different speaking techniques, singing, altar calls, planting people in the congregation to stand when asked and so on. Prior to that, mission meetings looked different. There were still strategies, but they reflected a different set of priorities. At the camp meetings the Primitive Methodists held, for example, the speakers were limited in how long they could speak, there had to be at least one speaker for the children, people were to be aware of God moving and stop what they were doing if it wasn't contributing. There was no 'revival leader' in these events as such, though a lot of known speakers. I could be wrong, but I suspect it was more of a group affair: people invited their friends, were involved in setting it up and pulling it down (it was a literal 'camp') and were there for people in the event of their conversion and subsequent discipleship. I think you see this also in the interest they have in preaching to children as well - that's the kind of priority that a church type group has. Sometimes of course there were big name speakers, but this was the kind of rhythm of the revivals.
So, I think revivals were part of the way the community of believers did mission(after the initial Wesley ones), and as they became 'professional' they were managed by travelling groups rather than owned by churches. Evangelicals couldn't ignore them, and didn't because of conversions, but they were different, and there was a definite distancing from them in the 1850's, which changed as the century progressed.
Any one of us coming to Christ is miraculous. When God pours his mercy out on many, many people all at once it is mind blowing. But I think the idea which grows up with Finney and others, that we should actively seek revival, is distracting. If we prayerfully work hard to know and speak the Gospel we are doing all that we are responsible to do. God might pour out his blessing, slowly or all at once, but this is his work. And we rejoice in his work when we see it, in big or small ways!
* Note that I'm not claiming that the Wesley revivals were part of the COE church experience. These intial revivals are unusual, but the subsequent ones I think are in the context of the community of believers.
For those of us who are interested in people becoming Christian, the idea of 'revival' is held out at a kind of nirvana. Many, many people becoming Christians all at once is basically what a revival is all about, and that is what most of us long to see happen.
And in the 19th Century, the 'revival' was studied and various means were invented to replicate it. This is particularly the case with Finney's publication regarding Revivals, which changed the shape of revivals in America, but my interest at the moment is the UK, and the change there is considerable.
The revival fitted with church reality after the Wesley and Whitfield revivals of the late 18th Century.* But it was far more of an 'event' by the end of the 19th century. Revivals in the 18th entury particularly occurred among the lower classes, who had no access to the Bible because they couldn't read and were absent from church and didn't hear it read. The Gospel therefore was not something they were familiar with, and often heard it the first time as the W's preached.
And of course, part of the genius of the Wesley and Whitfield approach was the establishment of 'classes' in which people learned to be Christian, often learning how to read in the process.
This was often the case with subsequent revivals. They often were localised, particularly among a group of the same kind of occupation - so fishermen, etc - in the same place. Sometimes there was very little to explain them. They just happened. So, a group of men playing cards suddenly fall down on their knees and cry out to God for mercy for hours. And there's a revival. Sometimes it's more prosaic. A group of Primitive Methodists enter a village with singing and processing through the streets to the field where they try to hold their open air meeting. The village clergymen comes against them with a group of thugs, including a full band. They try to preach but can barely be heard above the band. Then, suddenly the drummer of this band is convicted of sin and then others and revival breaks out.(Presumably this is a lot easier after the drummer starts sobbing and ceases drumming). Of course, sometimes it doesn't work that easily: the preachers are beaten up and some even die in the course of events.
But mostly, these revivals look to me like quicker ways of doing mission. So, in a good church when the Gospel is preached, people in the church will be telling their friends about Jesus and bringing them along to hear the Gospel. And that means that the same kind of dynamic which we see among say the fishermen at Cornwall is at work in that church, only a lot slower. It's not that revival isn't supernatural, it's just that it's as supernatural as all other gospel work, and there's a kind of continuity between the two.
After about 1845, this changed dramatically. People are inventing ways to do revival in a dramatic way. These come to Britain from the USA often, and start to change the way revivals are perceived. The Methodists had started to seriously distance themselves from revivals from the early 1800's, but in the 1840's they send home a revivalist named James Caughey for illicit revival practice. Many Methodists are committed to revivalism and struggle with this rejection of revival and leave (and that's a story in itself). Other Evangelical denominations which have imitated many of the Methodist type strategies - church planting, small groups at churches, centralisation, etc, etc - distance themselves from revivalism also.
The kind of things which start to be a factor in revivals now characterise our understanding of 'revivals': different speaking techniques, singing, altar calls, planting people in the congregation to stand when asked and so on. Prior to that, mission meetings looked different. There were still strategies, but they reflected a different set of priorities. At the camp meetings the Primitive Methodists held, for example, the speakers were limited in how long they could speak, there had to be at least one speaker for the children, people were to be aware of God moving and stop what they were doing if it wasn't contributing. There was no 'revival leader' in these events as such, though a lot of known speakers. I could be wrong, but I suspect it was more of a group affair: people invited their friends, were involved in setting it up and pulling it down (it was a literal 'camp') and were there for people in the event of their conversion and subsequent discipleship. I think you see this also in the interest they have in preaching to children as well - that's the kind of priority that a church type group has. Sometimes of course there were big name speakers, but this was the kind of rhythm of the revivals.
So, I think revivals were part of the way the community of believers did mission(after the initial Wesley ones), and as they became 'professional' they were managed by travelling groups rather than owned by churches. Evangelicals couldn't ignore them, and didn't because of conversions, but they were different, and there was a definite distancing from them in the 1850's, which changed as the century progressed.
Any one of us coming to Christ is miraculous. When God pours his mercy out on many, many people all at once it is mind blowing. But I think the idea which grows up with Finney and others, that we should actively seek revival, is distracting. If we prayerfully work hard to know and speak the Gospel we are doing all that we are responsible to do. God might pour out his blessing, slowly or all at once, but this is his work. And we rejoice in his work when we see it, in big or small ways!
* Note that I'm not claiming that the Wesley revivals were part of the COE church experience. These intial revivals are unusual, but the subsequent ones I think are in the context of the community of believers.
Monday, 25 December 2006
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas everyone! I hope today is good and has many enjoyable moments in it for you.
Today reminds me that God has been kind. It's the sort of kindness that comes around once in a reality and changes everything. He's come down to us, been one of us, let us know him, and died for us. He - Jesus - showed us what love looks like in the process, so we can learn how to love the people around us.
So, for all it's glitter and kitzch and so forth, I think Christmas is worth a decent celebration. Enjoy!
Today reminds me that God has been kind. It's the sort of kindness that comes around once in a reality and changes everything. He's come down to us, been one of us, let us know him, and died for us. He - Jesus - showed us what love looks like in the process, so we can learn how to love the people around us.
So, for all it's glitter and kitzch and so forth, I think Christmas is worth a decent celebration. Enjoy!
Friday, 22 December 2006
O Christmas Tree!
A lovely thing happened to me today. My dear friend 'Earthmother' and her little girl, 'Happy Girl' came to visit. They brought presents which is always cool, and these were presents for our Christmas tree.
I am very fond of our Christmas tree. It sits in the middle of our lounge/dining room, and this amuses me because it reminds me of the tree in the middle of one of the character's houses in the Ring Cycle. It has a sword stuck in it, which of course is important for the plot. But it has long amused me that someone would have a tree in the middle of their lounge room. And now we do.
I like our tree because I think it is beautiful. And it is so cool to be able to have a beautiful thing in your house that serves no purpose other than to be beautiful. Functional is usually top priority, and for good reason, but beautiful just for its own sake - that's cool!
And what was particularly cool about my visitors (who drove a long way & even coped with my cold and my messy house) was that Earthmother gave me ornaments for Christmas, and they sparkle. So now there are more sparkly things on the tree.
This is a good thing in my day. A lovely friend, her adorable little girl and some decorations for Christmas.
Wednesday, 20 December 2006
Medical Procedures
Medical procedures have an odd way of getting worse.
The first time you have a medical procedure is really awful. You don't know what to expect and you don't know if you'll be brave and how much it will hurt and which are the particularly difficult bits for you. You might know exactly what will happen, but until you've experienced it you can't be sure which bits will really get to you. Sometimes what sounds absolutely awful is quite easy; what sounds prosaic is terrifying. I had jaw surgery about 10 years ago during which they broke my jaw, put screws in it and wired it together. I was dreading it, but that bit was really fine. It was the swelling in my throat that made it hard to breathe that really freaked me out. There was no way I could have predicted that from the explanation the doctors gave me of the procedure. I was convinced that the breaking-jaw-screws bit would be the worst, but they were less difficult and painful than a broken arm.
But once you've had the procedure, if you have to have it repeatedly, you get used to it. And then, I found, that after a while, out of the blue it's worse than the first time you have the procedure. It's like you get used to it, and then suddenly you can't bear it. You're panicked and fearful and stressed about the whole thing. I found this recently. I knew exactly what would happen, and knew I could handle it but was freaking out about it. And then afterwards, just got over it. Had the procedure again and it was fine.
I guess maybe our minds build little barriers to keep ourselves sane when we are in a position of vulnerability, with someone encroaching on our personal space. Then every now and again they come tumbling down, because it is pretty horrible to be in that position.
I am very grateful for modern medicine, but I'm more grateful for heaven and the absence of medical procedures.
The first time you have a medical procedure is really awful. You don't know what to expect and you don't know if you'll be brave and how much it will hurt and which are the particularly difficult bits for you. You might know exactly what will happen, but until you've experienced it you can't be sure which bits will really get to you. Sometimes what sounds absolutely awful is quite easy; what sounds prosaic is terrifying. I had jaw surgery about 10 years ago during which they broke my jaw, put screws in it and wired it together. I was dreading it, but that bit was really fine. It was the swelling in my throat that made it hard to breathe that really freaked me out. There was no way I could have predicted that from the explanation the doctors gave me of the procedure. I was convinced that the breaking-jaw-screws bit would be the worst, but they were less difficult and painful than a broken arm.
But once you've had the procedure, if you have to have it repeatedly, you get used to it. And then, I found, that after a while, out of the blue it's worse than the first time you have the procedure. It's like you get used to it, and then suddenly you can't bear it. You're panicked and fearful and stressed about the whole thing. I found this recently. I knew exactly what would happen, and knew I could handle it but was freaking out about it. And then afterwards, just got over it. Had the procedure again and it was fine.
I guess maybe our minds build little barriers to keep ourselves sane when we are in a position of vulnerability, with someone encroaching on our personal space. Then every now and again they come tumbling down, because it is pretty horrible to be in that position.
I am very grateful for modern medicine, but I'm more grateful for heaven and the absence of medical procedures.
Saturday, 9 December 2006
Forgiveness is a verb
Forgiveness is hard work. I don't think many people dispute that. But one of the things I find particularly hard about it is the way you find yourself having 'lost' the forgiveness, which you struggled so hard to construct in the first place.
You make a decision, after much agony, prayer, frustration and so forth to forgive someone. You make this decision with a clear mind: you know that the way they have sinned against you is going to have an ongoing impact on your life. There are ways in which you will not function as you should because of the way they have treated you. There are things you will never do because of this person's actions. There are going to be painful results from this sin against you for the rest of your life.
If you are Christian, then you know how much your life is embedded in forgiveness - how much it relies on forgiveness. Forgiveness is precious to you. Because Jesus died for you, you are forgiven and the rotten things you've done aren't counted against you. And Jesus tells us to love with his kind of love, which among other things forgives. So, you decide to forgive this person. And then, if you are like me, it takes ages to work out what that is. You paraphrase it so it makes sense to you - you think 'I will absorb the evil' and work out how to do that in concrete terms. You try for reconciliation if that is possible, and if not, you try and work out the best alternative, and start to weed out the desire for and dreams of vengeance, which might be lurking about.
And you forgive.
And then, a few years later, you find yourself wanting to go a few rounds with this person and really take them down. They haven't changed. You didn't expect them to. They haven't any intention of changing or taking responsibility, or anything at all which might make this easier. You had a fairly good idea that might be the case way back when you made the decision.
And here you are wanting blood! You are right back where you started. All this 'forgiving' hasn't worked and has just been a waste of time and energy.
But I don't think that is exactly the case. Once you make the decision, it sets up a category in your head. This bubbling anger which is emerging is picked up by an internal alarm, which only exists because you did make the initial decision. And I think it is easier to go over old ground rather than hoe it from scratch. You can rearrange your thinking again because you've done it before and know the shape of it now.
Forgiveness is hard for so many reasons. Not least because things like this sneak up and jump on your back when you thought you had it all sorted. Forgiveness isn't something you can just do once, it's something you keep on deciding to do and working out how to do as each day dawns.
You make a decision, after much agony, prayer, frustration and so forth to forgive someone. You make this decision with a clear mind: you know that the way they have sinned against you is going to have an ongoing impact on your life. There are ways in which you will not function as you should because of the way they have treated you. There are things you will never do because of this person's actions. There are going to be painful results from this sin against you for the rest of your life.
If you are Christian, then you know how much your life is embedded in forgiveness - how much it relies on forgiveness. Forgiveness is precious to you. Because Jesus died for you, you are forgiven and the rotten things you've done aren't counted against you. And Jesus tells us to love with his kind of love, which among other things forgives. So, you decide to forgive this person. And then, if you are like me, it takes ages to work out what that is. You paraphrase it so it makes sense to you - you think 'I will absorb the evil' and work out how to do that in concrete terms. You try for reconciliation if that is possible, and if not, you try and work out the best alternative, and start to weed out the desire for and dreams of vengeance, which might be lurking about.
And you forgive.
And then, a few years later, you find yourself wanting to go a few rounds with this person and really take them down. They haven't changed. You didn't expect them to. They haven't any intention of changing or taking responsibility, or anything at all which might make this easier. You had a fairly good idea that might be the case way back when you made the decision.
And here you are wanting blood! You are right back where you started. All this 'forgiving' hasn't worked and has just been a waste of time and energy.
But I don't think that is exactly the case. Once you make the decision, it sets up a category in your head. This bubbling anger which is emerging is picked up by an internal alarm, which only exists because you did make the initial decision. And I think it is easier to go over old ground rather than hoe it from scratch. You can rearrange your thinking again because you've done it before and know the shape of it now.
Forgiveness is hard for so many reasons. Not least because things like this sneak up and jump on your back when you thought you had it all sorted. Forgiveness isn't something you can just do once, it's something you keep on deciding to do and working out how to do as each day dawns.
Friday, 8 December 2006
The Birds - an update
I feel it is time to provide an update on the territorial bird war which is currently underway where we live.
You may remember that the cockatoos and plovers were contesting the obviously prime real estate close to our place. The cockatoos looked like they were winning - which makes sense. They are bigger, more certain of their inherent superiority and could do a mean body slam.
But they are gone.
The plovers are back, complete with baby plovers. This I find odd, as it is summer, and I always thought baby birds were born in spring. But there you have it.
And no sign of Cockatoos all week.
Maybe the plovers got a restraining order.
You may remember that the cockatoos and plovers were contesting the obviously prime real estate close to our place. The cockatoos looked like they were winning - which makes sense. They are bigger, more certain of their inherent superiority and could do a mean body slam.
But they are gone.
The plovers are back, complete with baby plovers. This I find odd, as it is summer, and I always thought baby birds were born in spring. But there you have it.
And no sign of Cockatoos all week.
Maybe the plovers got a restraining order.
Thursday, 7 December 2006
Clones are people too
I watched the news this morning.
I watched Australia pass a law allowing cloned human embryos to be used for experimentation. I believe embryos (cloned or otherwise) are human, and should be therefore treated with dignity and respect. I don't think they should be used in experiments. I don't think we should be happy with legislation which refuses human rights to those who are human (however tiny they might be).
I am dismayed that treatments will be developed based on treating people like this. It creates a two-class system of humanity (where we already have so many class-type systems), and means we move further away from trying to have in our society, structures which protect the weak and vulnerable.
Possibly we will find cures for diseases, but there is no guarantee that this will happen. It seems profoundly unfair that we would deny one group of people the right to even take a breath, so that other people (who can afford it), might possibly be given a cure for a disease, which could be achieved by other means. (Research using adult stem cells has had much better results than research using embryonic stem cells - the lobby group for the latter having a lot more publicity because they have a group of celebrities and a running controversy to attract media attention).
I think we made a very bad decision. Not only will this destroy the lives of cloned embryos, it will damage us. Whenever we choose to make ourselves superior to other people it affects who we become.
I watched Australia pass a law allowing cloned human embryos to be used for experimentation. I believe embryos (cloned or otherwise) are human, and should be therefore treated with dignity and respect. I don't think they should be used in experiments. I don't think we should be happy with legislation which refuses human rights to those who are human (however tiny they might be).
I am dismayed that treatments will be developed based on treating people like this. It creates a two-class system of humanity (where we already have so many class-type systems), and means we move further away from trying to have in our society, structures which protect the weak and vulnerable.
Possibly we will find cures for diseases, but there is no guarantee that this will happen. It seems profoundly unfair that we would deny one group of people the right to even take a breath, so that other people (who can afford it), might possibly be given a cure for a disease, which could be achieved by other means. (Research using adult stem cells has had much better results than research using embryonic stem cells - the lobby group for the latter having a lot more publicity because they have a group of celebrities and a running controversy to attract media attention).
I think we made a very bad decision. Not only will this destroy the lives of cloned embryos, it will damage us. Whenever we choose to make ourselves superior to other people it affects who we become.
Wednesday, 6 December 2006
Imago Dei... what's the deal?
I've been reading Augustine recently for my next exam (next year thankfully!) I'm reading him on what the 'image of God' is and how it functions. I'm going to be doing a lot of reading on this because it is a substantial part of what I'm going to be examined on (next year - did I mention that?)
The issue is partly to do with what 'image of God' is and whether we still have it. It's quite a complex question because it kind of asks what it means to be human at the same time. If people are in the image of God (as per Genesis 1:26ff), then how is that to be understood? Is it central to being human? If it is, then what makes a human being human?
And of course, when you start thinking through this, you wind up thinking about what it means for Jesus to be the image of God, and how he is different to us(given that we aren't fully God or sinless as Jesus is). It all gets rather complex, and raises lots of issues along the way, which makes for interesting thinking.
I'm enjoying Augustine on this because he is so not 21st century. Everyone wants to beat up on him for being influenced by Plato, but I like it that I know what I'm dealing with. At the moment he is busy convincing me that the 'imago dei' is located in the mind, specifically that part of the mind which is permanent (and therefore continues into eternity). I'm not convinced, but I'm enjoying his (very hard to understand!) exposition. I'm reading it at a rate of about a page a day, and I read the page several times.
(Not at all like his Confessions, which I loved and have read several times - or his sermons which are so entertaining because of the way he rouses on his audience for their complacency or complements them for getting out of bed in the cold...)
I like Augustine. He's cool.
The issue is partly to do with what 'image of God' is and whether we still have it. It's quite a complex question because it kind of asks what it means to be human at the same time. If people are in the image of God (as per Genesis 1:26ff), then how is that to be understood? Is it central to being human? If it is, then what makes a human being human?
And of course, when you start thinking through this, you wind up thinking about what it means for Jesus to be the image of God, and how he is different to us(given that we aren't fully God or sinless as Jesus is). It all gets rather complex, and raises lots of issues along the way, which makes for interesting thinking.
I'm enjoying Augustine on this because he is so not 21st century. Everyone wants to beat up on him for being influenced by Plato, but I like it that I know what I'm dealing with. At the moment he is busy convincing me that the 'imago dei' is located in the mind, specifically that part of the mind which is permanent (and therefore continues into eternity). I'm not convinced, but I'm enjoying his (very hard to understand!) exposition. I'm reading it at a rate of about a page a day, and I read the page several times.
(Not at all like his Confessions, which I loved and have read several times - or his sermons which are so entertaining because of the way he rouses on his audience for their complacency or complements them for getting out of bed in the cold...)
I like Augustine. He's cool.
Tuesday, 5 December 2006
Hunting Raptors
Here is a poem I wrote. It isn't very good, but I don't really care.
If you have never been to the Arathi Highlands* on a summer's day when it's raining, you'll probably find this a little bit odd.
****************************
We're hunting raptors.
They squeal,
They thump their tails,
They open their huge mouths -
But we are the victors,
Taking down dinosaurs
With synchronised blows,
Fireballs, claws, starfire
Dancing as we move
From raptor to raptor,
Through wildflowers,
In the drenching rain.
Comfortable
Victorious
Triumphant...
In this world at least
It is a good day.
***************************
*For those folk hunting through their atlas, the Arathi Highlands is an imaginary place in the World of Warcraft universe (an online computer game), not some recently discovered part of the Australian Alps.
If you have never been to the Arathi Highlands* on a summer's day when it's raining, you'll probably find this a little bit odd.
****************************
We're hunting raptors.
They squeal,
They thump their tails,
They open their huge mouths -
But we are the victors,
Taking down dinosaurs
With synchronised blows,
Fireballs, claws, starfire
Dancing as we move
From raptor to raptor,
Through wildflowers,
In the drenching rain.
Comfortable
Victorious
Triumphant...
In this world at least
It is a good day.
***************************
*For those folk hunting through their atlas, the Arathi Highlands is an imaginary place in the World of Warcraft universe (an online computer game), not some recently discovered part of the Australian Alps.
Monday, 4 December 2006
The Ocean
I love watching waves. I've done a bit of it this last week and it was good.
One of the things I like about it - apart from the glorious colour palate which changes without warning as the sky changes (how cool is that!) - one of the things I like about the ocean is its power and disorder. If I were a powerful warrior princess with a large army (including elephants), and I had, like Alexander the Great run out of enemies to defeat, I still could not take on the ocean. It's just big and defiant and completely not interested in people: it treats us with a kind of merciless disdain. OK, so I'm anthropomorphising it a lot, but it's not like it doesn't ask for it. There is it, relentless, never still, forceful, absolutely beautiful and unable to be controlled, or even really harnessed. How can a person fitted out with an imagination ignore it as a powerful image of many things?
It always makes me feel small and timebound. The waves keep coming. There is so much water. The waves are so strong - how can water have that strong an impact? How can water pull someone out to sea? These and many more thoughts whirr in my brain. Eventually it makes me dizzy and then I start to write poetry.
If I were ridiculously wealthy, I would build a house on a headland somewhere with enormous windows. You would find me looking out those windows, speechless and grinning, whenever a storm was on its way.
One of the things I like about it - apart from the glorious colour palate which changes without warning as the sky changes (how cool is that!) - one of the things I like about the ocean is its power and disorder. If I were a powerful warrior princess with a large army (including elephants), and I had, like Alexander the Great run out of enemies to defeat, I still could not take on the ocean. It's just big and defiant and completely not interested in people: it treats us with a kind of merciless disdain. OK, so I'm anthropomorphising it a lot, but it's not like it doesn't ask for it. There is it, relentless, never still, forceful, absolutely beautiful and unable to be controlled, or even really harnessed. How can a person fitted out with an imagination ignore it as a powerful image of many things?
It always makes me feel small and timebound. The waves keep coming. There is so much water. The waves are so strong - how can water have that strong an impact? How can water pull someone out to sea? These and many more thoughts whirr in my brain. Eventually it makes me dizzy and then I start to write poetry.
If I were ridiculously wealthy, I would build a house on a headland somewhere with enormous windows. You would find me looking out those windows, speechless and grinning, whenever a storm was on its way.
Tuesday, 28 November 2006
*Break*
Going on a little holiday till Saturday... to watch the waves and gulls and pelicans... and try and be relaxed.
Hurray for holidays!
Hurray for holidays!
Monday, 27 November 2006
Learning How to Love
A few weeks ago I volunteered for something in which I regretted being involved. It was great to think through this afterwards though and realise how much my thinking has changed as I try and work out how to do the 'love your neighbour as yourself' bit of Jesus' commands.
Without going into detail, I disagreed with what was going to happen but didn't think it was immoral or wrong. I could have walked out and refused to be involved. I chose to stand up and be publically associated with what happened. It took me about 24 hours to get over it. But I don't regret it, strangely.
A few years ago, I think I would have walked out. I would have been worried about my reputation and concerned that I wasn't associated with something I disagreed with. I probably would have thought about how I was responsible for myself and my choices and needed to make sure I didn't taint myself with stuff that I thought was unhelpful.
Now, I realise, I think differently. I think I am just as concerned for my reputation, but I don't think I should put such a priority on it. My choices are still my responsibility but so are other people. It might be a good and right choice to waltz out of a project midway, but it might not - not because of the project, but because of the relationships with the people in the project. Those relationships have come to have a greater significance than projects and reputations and so forth.
And 'tainting' oneself is part of loving people - not acting immorally or doing what is wrong (which are not loving actions), but allowing oneself to appear as less pristine than one might prefer. Because loving people isn't about me, it's about them.
Without going into detail, I disagreed with what was going to happen but didn't think it was immoral or wrong. I could have walked out and refused to be involved. I chose to stand up and be publically associated with what happened. It took me about 24 hours to get over it. But I don't regret it, strangely.
A few years ago, I think I would have walked out. I would have been worried about my reputation and concerned that I wasn't associated with something I disagreed with. I probably would have thought about how I was responsible for myself and my choices and needed to make sure I didn't taint myself with stuff that I thought was unhelpful.
Now, I realise, I think differently. I think I am just as concerned for my reputation, but I don't think I should put such a priority on it. My choices are still my responsibility but so are other people. It might be a good and right choice to waltz out of a project midway, but it might not - not because of the project, but because of the relationships with the people in the project. Those relationships have come to have a greater significance than projects and reputations and so forth.
And 'tainting' oneself is part of loving people - not acting immorally or doing what is wrong (which are not loving actions), but allowing oneself to appear as less pristine than one might prefer. Because loving people isn't about me, it's about them.
Saturday, 25 November 2006
Sins and Tragedies
One of the things I have discovered this year is that many people do not expect life to be difficult. I have discovered this as various hard things have happened to us and most people have reacted well up until a certain point. At this point (which varies from person to person), there is a kind of meltdown and the person can't hear anymore. So, I've learned to pace the amount I tell most people and only allow them to have part of the entire truth. Too much and then they can't really relate to me anymore because they can't deal with what is happening to us.
It is interesting that there seem to be borders to our sense of pain. There comes a point where it is too difficult and we say 'No more!' It is as though some pain is expected but beyond a point it is unreasonable and unfair. But pain is unfair - it warps our understanding and experience of life and often damages relationships.
But we have no rights to our happiness. We can't expect to have good lives just because we want them. We can't expect to avoid disappointment and pain just because we don't want them or don't think we can handle it. Bad things happen all the time and they don't just happen to people who deserve them. This is a broken, awful world, which may have glimmers of happiness for many people, at least some of the time, but has an awful lot of pain which breaks people's hearts and minds and at worst, destroys them. That is the world we inhabit.
It only makes sense to me because Jesus also inhabited this world. He felt it's (and therefore our) pain and cared enough about its state that he died for our sin which warped it into its present shape. He's the one who shows a way out of the pain because he took this burden on himself when he died for it. Only Jesus is big enough to make sense of the tragedy of life.
It is interesting that there seem to be borders to our sense of pain. There comes a point where it is too difficult and we say 'No more!' It is as though some pain is expected but beyond a point it is unreasonable and unfair. But pain is unfair - it warps our understanding and experience of life and often damages relationships.
But we have no rights to our happiness. We can't expect to have good lives just because we want them. We can't expect to avoid disappointment and pain just because we don't want them or don't think we can handle it. Bad things happen all the time and they don't just happen to people who deserve them. This is a broken, awful world, which may have glimmers of happiness for many people, at least some of the time, but has an awful lot of pain which breaks people's hearts and minds and at worst, destroys them. That is the world we inhabit.
It only makes sense to me because Jesus also inhabited this world. He felt it's (and therefore our) pain and cared enough about its state that he died for our sin which warped it into its present shape. He's the one who shows a way out of the pain because he took this burden on himself when he died for it. Only Jesus is big enough to make sense of the tragedy of life.
Friday, 24 November 2006
The Birds
I feel I should report on the bird wars we are having where live.
Recently the plovers (who raise their babies in the vacant lot next to our units every year) were attacked by the Cockatoos. The Cockatoos appeared to have won the round, because there was no sign of the plovers for several days and a group of gloating Cockatoos strutted around the place.
Then, the plovers returned and the Cockatoos vanished... for a day. Yesterday I arrived home to find the plovers and Cockatoos fighting again. Clearly this is prime real estate (and not just for developers). I also think the drought might have something to do with it - there's probably more water around here than wherever else the Cockatoos might have been.
So who will win? A bit like a football game - at least it is more interesting to me than football (or cricket). And a bit of a warning about sentimentalising nature: red in tooth and claw, and certainly not given to sharing important resources!
Recently the plovers (who raise their babies in the vacant lot next to our units every year) were attacked by the Cockatoos. The Cockatoos appeared to have won the round, because there was no sign of the plovers for several days and a group of gloating Cockatoos strutted around the place.
Then, the plovers returned and the Cockatoos vanished... for a day. Yesterday I arrived home to find the plovers and Cockatoos fighting again. Clearly this is prime real estate (and not just for developers). I also think the drought might have something to do with it - there's probably more water around here than wherever else the Cockatoos might have been.
So who will win? A bit like a football game - at least it is more interesting to me than football (or cricket). And a bit of a warning about sentimentalising nature: red in tooth and claw, and certainly not given to sharing important resources!
Thursday, 23 November 2006
Are you kidding?
Today while I was on my way to visit the doctor and find some kitchen string (at last!), I walked past a hairdressers. They were offering a "Princess Pampering Pack", which of itself isn't too drastic. But this was for girls (the model looked around 8 years old). The package offered a shampoo, cut and blow dry, as well as a mini manicure and mini pedicure. All for A$44.95.
I was bemused. When I was 8 I climbed trees and could barely sit still long enough to have my hair brushed. Was I just a weird kid or are there really children out there who naturally long to have a pedicure and just can't find a place that will take them seriously because they are too young?
The world is quite mad.
I was bemused. When I was 8 I climbed trees and could barely sit still long enough to have my hair brushed. Was I just a weird kid or are there really children out there who naturally long to have a pedicure and just can't find a place that will take them seriously because they are too young?
The world is quite mad.
Wednesday, 22 November 2006
Thanksgiving
I have the curious habit of reading the Psalms each night from the 1662 Book of Common Prayer. I like the language more than any other translation of the Psalms which I have found. And, they're all divided neatly into 'morning' and 'evening' Psalms for each day of the month, which means I don't even have to remember where I'm up to - I just have to remember what the date is. Ultimately I'll have to change and read the morning ones as well, but at the moment I'm chugging on with just the evening ones and getting a lopsided view of the Psalms, no doubt.
Last nights was 106 and it is a tragic Psalm. The Israelites are in exile and they start from the beginning of their history (the Exodus) and recite what has happened. This is a fairly common way for the people of Israel to write poetry - they remember what has happened and link it with their own time and place at the end of the poem. What was different about this Psalm was that the focus was entirely on their sins. So, they start at the Red Sea and remember all the sins, one after another. And they end where they are: in exile, outside of God's land and enduring his anger. It's chilling.
And it's all justified - the Psalm has demonstrated that and it just makes you feel awful as it goes on - you know it's not going to end well as indeed it doesn't. The only thing left is a cry for mercy, which is made at the end. But the cry for mercy is accompanied with a promise of thanksgiving to God and to 'boast' in his name again - so a determination to be his people again and do what his people do: say thank you.
Last night I was grateful for the work of God's Spirit in my live because of Jesus' death for me. I have a long catalogue of sins as well, but they don't define me the way they defined the writers of Psalm 106. I'm defined by grace and mercy. And these should determine the kind of person I am - the person who is thankful to God for this kindness and for all the other things he gives me.
Last nights was 106 and it is a tragic Psalm. The Israelites are in exile and they start from the beginning of their history (the Exodus) and recite what has happened. This is a fairly common way for the people of Israel to write poetry - they remember what has happened and link it with their own time and place at the end of the poem. What was different about this Psalm was that the focus was entirely on their sins. So, they start at the Red Sea and remember all the sins, one after another. And they end where they are: in exile, outside of God's land and enduring his anger. It's chilling.
And it's all justified - the Psalm has demonstrated that and it just makes you feel awful as it goes on - you know it's not going to end well as indeed it doesn't. The only thing left is a cry for mercy, which is made at the end. But the cry for mercy is accompanied with a promise of thanksgiving to God and to 'boast' in his name again - so a determination to be his people again and do what his people do: say thank you.
Last night I was grateful for the work of God's Spirit in my live because of Jesus' death for me. I have a long catalogue of sins as well, but they don't define me the way they defined the writers of Psalm 106. I'm defined by grace and mercy. And these should determine the kind of person I am - the person who is thankful to God for this kindness and for all the other things he gives me.
Monday, 20 November 2006
Letter to Charles Dickens
Dear Mr Dickens,
I write to protest in the strongest possible terms your method of disposing of a character in Bleak House. The character is of little repute and less worth, owning a Rag n' Bone shop in the dingy end of London. Despite his lowly status he is nevertheless intended as a genuinely human character. Yet, he dies through the curious means of 'spontaneous combustion' and it is this which causes me concern.
There are many ways in which he could have been killed. It was nineteenth century London, after all, and I don't need to inform you of the appalling living conditions in this time and place. You know of these first hand. Disease abounds: Typhoid, cholera along with a multitude of other diseases, not to mention sexually transmitted diseases. Accidents occur, and in a city without any health care to speak of, these can easily and quickly lead to fatal consequences. Then there is crime: murder, manslaughter, grievous bodily harm - all have frequently been found to lead to the demise of the victim. Desperate measures may even lead to freak accidents, such as the sudden lowering of a pianoforte onto the head of the person, the voracious appetite of a passing alligator and so forth. These are far fetched, but still happen in this reality and are therefore believable. Spontaneous combustion less so.
Less dramatically, there are causes of death of which you may not be aware. Bad drinking water, non-pasteurised milk, unsanitary conditions for keeping food, especially meat - can all lead to death, particularly if several are combined and no help is available for the victim. Finally, there are the more prosaic causes of death: heart attack, stroke, severe asthma attack leading to coma, severe blood loss and so forth. These also, kind Sir, happen in real life and so do not distract from the story, which purports to be a reflection on real life. Unlike spontaneous combustion, which does not happen in real life.
My point is simply that there are a constellation of real-life options for the author who wishes to dispose of one of his characters in 19th century London.
Yet dear Sir, you chose to spontaneously combust your character. I feel this is highly improper and deserves your reconsideration. That the character must die I understand - the plot required it and who are we to stand in the way of the plot? But the means of death was clumsy, unbelievable and quite revolting. It disrupted the story. I feel that this decision detracts from your achievement as an author and should be reviewed at your earliest convenience, which as I am aware or your own demise, may remain merely the wish of
Your servant,
Wistwaveral.
I write to protest in the strongest possible terms your method of disposing of a character in Bleak House. The character is of little repute and less worth, owning a Rag n' Bone shop in the dingy end of London. Despite his lowly status he is nevertheless intended as a genuinely human character. Yet, he dies through the curious means of 'spontaneous combustion' and it is this which causes me concern.
There are many ways in which he could have been killed. It was nineteenth century London, after all, and I don't need to inform you of the appalling living conditions in this time and place. You know of these first hand. Disease abounds: Typhoid, cholera along with a multitude of other diseases, not to mention sexually transmitted diseases. Accidents occur, and in a city without any health care to speak of, these can easily and quickly lead to fatal consequences. Then there is crime: murder, manslaughter, grievous bodily harm - all have frequently been found to lead to the demise of the victim. Desperate measures may even lead to freak accidents, such as the sudden lowering of a pianoforte onto the head of the person, the voracious appetite of a passing alligator and so forth. These are far fetched, but still happen in this reality and are therefore believable. Spontaneous combustion less so.
Less dramatically, there are causes of death of which you may not be aware. Bad drinking water, non-pasteurised milk, unsanitary conditions for keeping food, especially meat - can all lead to death, particularly if several are combined and no help is available for the victim. Finally, there are the more prosaic causes of death: heart attack, stroke, severe asthma attack leading to coma, severe blood loss and so forth. These also, kind Sir, happen in real life and so do not distract from the story, which purports to be a reflection on real life. Unlike spontaneous combustion, which does not happen in real life.
My point is simply that there are a constellation of real-life options for the author who wishes to dispose of one of his characters in 19th century London.
Yet dear Sir, you chose to spontaneously combust your character. I feel this is highly improper and deserves your reconsideration. That the character must die I understand - the plot required it and who are we to stand in the way of the plot? But the means of death was clumsy, unbelievable and quite revolting. It disrupted the story. I feel that this decision detracts from your achievement as an author and should be reviewed at your earliest convenience, which as I am aware or your own demise, may remain merely the wish of
Your servant,
Wistwaveral.
Escape from Reality
Possibly escapism is as bad as denial. But I'm not certain of that.
If you take the view that it is good to look reality full in the face and dispassionately understand exactly how something is, rather than to pretend it is otherwise, then escapism becomes important. It doesn't make the problem go away, but then you knew it wouldn't because you have already faced the problem squarely and know it won't go away easily.
But what escapism does do is relieve the pressure and suffering slightly. It's a bit like sleep, though of course suffering destroys sleep. Escapism gives you the chance to breathe again and sometimes even takes a bit of the sting away for a while. Even more rarely, sometimes it allows your brain to function again outside the problem and so you are better equipped to deal with the problem.
As long as you don't expect the problem to be solved by escaping, I think it's a good thing. And of course, as long as escaping doesn't destroy yourself or relationships... (so, I think drugs create more problems... just so we're clear!) My personal preference is playing World of Warcraft or, failing that, reading something absorbing.
With denial, you never get to see the problem, but you always have the sense of doom. It makes bigger than it is sometimes, I think. You can never think about managing it because you are always valiantly hoping it won't exist.
I prefer realism and escapism to denial.
If you take the view that it is good to look reality full in the face and dispassionately understand exactly how something is, rather than to pretend it is otherwise, then escapism becomes important. It doesn't make the problem go away, but then you knew it wouldn't because you have already faced the problem squarely and know it won't go away easily.
But what escapism does do is relieve the pressure and suffering slightly. It's a bit like sleep, though of course suffering destroys sleep. Escapism gives you the chance to breathe again and sometimes even takes a bit of the sting away for a while. Even more rarely, sometimes it allows your brain to function again outside the problem and so you are better equipped to deal with the problem.
As long as you don't expect the problem to be solved by escaping, I think it's a good thing. And of course, as long as escaping doesn't destroy yourself or relationships... (so, I think drugs create more problems... just so we're clear!) My personal preference is playing World of Warcraft or, failing that, reading something absorbing.
With denial, you never get to see the problem, but you always have the sense of doom. It makes bigger than it is sometimes, I think. You can never think about managing it because you are always valiantly hoping it won't exist.
I prefer realism and escapism to denial.
Sunday, 19 November 2006
A Modern Major-General
That's me! Teeming with a lot of news. Not about the square of the hypotenuse. But full of the exam I sat on Tuesday. It was on ‘Evangelicalism in England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales from 1800-1850’.
And these are the books which are taking up so much space in my head. Cool, huh?
And as husband and friends can testify, I am teeming with a lot of news. It’s probably quite surprising to them how the elements from this subject can be inserted into the most ordinary of conversations:
“That reminds me of the Nonconformists in the nineteenth century…
Did I tell you about how Chalmers rehabilitated the parish system…
That’s a lot like Goode’s defense of the 26th Article…
Can you believe that Wesleyan Methodists used to…”
I have very patient people around me. They haven’t even organized an intervention yet.
Yet.
But the exam was unsatisfying for a variety of reasons, not least because exams are often unsatisfying. That glorious moment when you connected three things together and understood how something could be, is simply never articulated in an exam answer because it is totally unrelated to the question being asked.
So, to make up for it, I think I'm going to write a series of posts. They will not narrate events, but explain how they are connected. They’ll focus on what I’m interested in: the way culture overwhelms and is overcome by Christians, the way their selfishness hoodwinks them, and the way they, through the power of God's Spirit break through their own sin. And how they are shaped by their beliefs, and also shaped by the way they defend their beliefs.
And there will be some reference to the heroes and heroines. The (often) little ordinary people who make extraordinary decisions and live, speak and write in ways which demonstrate both conviction and courage. I like these people.
That's what I think I'll try and do. Maybe I’ll escape that intervention yet…
Thursday, 16 November 2006
Shopping, Money and All That
Yesterday and today I've done the month's grocery shopping. Levor gets paid by the month and so we get the bulk of the food as soon as we get paid so we don't spend it on shiny things. We like shiny things.
I normally plan the menu for the month and then go to three supermarkets to get everything. The cheaper one has the basics, the next one up has more things I need and the expensive one has a huge variety of things I'm fussy about or can't get anywhere else. None of them however stock kitchen string. Not such a difficult thing, but there'll be no Christmas Pudding this year unless I can find some.
Apart from being a huge undertaking, it always makes me feel part of the economic machinery of modern society. I have no desire to return to the subsistence existence of prior centuries, where the kind of drought we are having in NSW at the moment would mean widespread death. I don't even really want to grow my own vegies. I mean, I like the idea but I'm fairly sure I'd be hopeless at it. Growing things see me and their motivation for living starts to elude them.
But I'm amazed at how much we - two people - eat in a month. When you carry it around, pack and unpack it and store it, you really start to notice it. Just storing it takes up so much space. And then in around 30 days it has mostly disappeared.
I also notice how much it costs. I think when you buy groceries weekly, you feel like you don't spend as much because you're parting with less money at each shop.
It's all made me realise more fully that:
1. The urban parts of our society are not self-sufficient. If there was a serious disruption to the economy, distribution services or something else essential for supermarkets to continue to function, then massive numbers of people would be in serious trouble. There simply isn't anywhere else to get food in a city.
2. We need a lot of money just to survive. Even the poorest in our society would need a certain amount of money just to keep eating because there isn't food anywhere else.
Today and yesterday's experiences have enlarged my sense of what I pray when I say: "Give us today our daily bread..." I'm glad God keeps providing food for me to eat.
I normally plan the menu for the month and then go to three supermarkets to get everything. The cheaper one has the basics, the next one up has more things I need and the expensive one has a huge variety of things I'm fussy about or can't get anywhere else. None of them however stock kitchen string. Not such a difficult thing, but there'll be no Christmas Pudding this year unless I can find some.
Apart from being a huge undertaking, it always makes me feel part of the economic machinery of modern society. I have no desire to return to the subsistence existence of prior centuries, where the kind of drought we are having in NSW at the moment would mean widespread death. I don't even really want to grow my own vegies. I mean, I like the idea but I'm fairly sure I'd be hopeless at it. Growing things see me and their motivation for living starts to elude them.
But I'm amazed at how much we - two people - eat in a month. When you carry it around, pack and unpack it and store it, you really start to notice it. Just storing it takes up so much space. And then in around 30 days it has mostly disappeared.
I also notice how much it costs. I think when you buy groceries weekly, you feel like you don't spend as much because you're parting with less money at each shop.
It's all made me realise more fully that:
1. The urban parts of our society are not self-sufficient. If there was a serious disruption to the economy, distribution services or something else essential for supermarkets to continue to function, then massive numbers of people would be in serious trouble. There simply isn't anywhere else to get food in a city.
2. We need a lot of money just to survive. Even the poorest in our society would need a certain amount of money just to keep eating because there isn't food anywhere else.
Today and yesterday's experiences have enlarged my sense of what I pray when I say: "Give us today our daily bread..." I'm glad God keeps providing food for me to eat.
Wednesday, 15 November 2006
Beginnings
'Beginnings are always hard' says Chaim Potok.
As beginnings go, this one has been fairly easy. Here I am, joining the throngs of anonymous people in cyberspace. I can now spill my thoughts and people can randomally read them, and even more occasionally comment on them. An excellent arrangement.
And it hasn't cost me anything so far and has even been fun. Who knew I had so many favourite authors?!
How strange. Life is rarely this easy.
I don't have anything important to say today. I had a three hour exam yesterday, so I am distracted and tired. Yet, like everyone else, I have many important things to say.
Tomorrow I shall start to say them.
As beginnings go, this one has been fairly easy. Here I am, joining the throngs of anonymous people in cyberspace. I can now spill my thoughts and people can randomally read them, and even more occasionally comment on them. An excellent arrangement.
And it hasn't cost me anything so far and has even been fun. Who knew I had so many favourite authors?!
How strange. Life is rarely this easy.
I don't have anything important to say today. I had a three hour exam yesterday, so I am distracted and tired. Yet, like everyone else, I have many important things to say.
Tomorrow I shall start to say them.
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