*Break*

Going on a little holiday till Saturday... to watch the waves and gulls and pelicans... and try and be relaxed.

Hurray for holidays!

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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…

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.

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.