My midwife is hilarious. She is a large, German woman with a fierce kind of determination and mild ferocity. She appears to be a very good midwife (not that I would really know), but she has a good reputation and does seem to know what she's doing. She's obviously done some of those 'personal interaction' type courses because she gets a lot of the external positive signals right (like eye contact and smiling and so forth), but it is accompanied with such intensity and strength, and bluntness that it is quite disconcerting.
Some examples...
* She asked me whether we wanted to have the baby in the hospital. I said 'yes'. I was fairly strong about this. I've not wanted to have the baby anywhere else really. I'm fairly old-fashioned about pain. I don't like it and see no reason why I should embrace it or see it as a 'natural part of life' or anything. And I'm pessimistic. I see no reason why quite a few things shouldn't go wrong and I'd like a very clever, well-trained person on hand to do something about these things. And as these things are best resolved in hospital, I'd be quite happy to go there. But this was not satisfactory. The midwife told me to: "...go away and think about it some more". (In rather the same tone as you would send a small child to its room to 'think about what you've done'). So, I did think about it. And came to the same conclusion. Not just for the above mentioned clearly selfish reasons, but because as we live on the top floor of a building in which all the sound travels down, it would be profoundly unloving to give birth at home. So, I'm going to hospital for purely sacrificial reasons, and I'm allowed. The midwife is going to let me.
* She had a student (whom I felt so sorry for by the end of my visit), and the student was instructed to feel the baby and work out where the head was. The student couldn't feel the head and so said that it was too early to work out where the head was. The midwife said (to me, not the student): "The baby's head is pointing down." The student tentatively asked how she could be so sure. The midwife said, "Well, if I can feel its spine and hear its heartbeat in this position then its head must be pointing down; its the only logical conclusion. I don't need to feel its head to know where its head is". (Student became very quiet after this).
* Today was priceless. She sent me away from my last appointment with strict instructions to fill out the first page of my hospital notes. This I duly did. She then had a look at them today and turned to me and asked, "Is this your handwriting?" I nervously admitted to having written there. She looked at me as pleased as anything and said, "This is really good handwriting. It's very neat. You have excellent handwriting." This was said with an absolute beaming smile as though I'd just done something really rather remarkable.
I wasn't exactly sure how to react to this. It's been a long time since I was in Year 2 and I can't remember whether you're meant to ask for happy stamps or whether they are just given to you. (I didn't get one).
I rather like my midwife. She is always so certain, which gives me a lot of confidence. And one of these days I might just get a happy stamp. If I'm really good.
Thursday, 8 November 2007
Monday, 22 October 2007
The Angels Have Left the Building!
I have a confession to make.
I do not like publicity, whether it is good or bad. Of course, good publicity tickles my pride, but it makes me conspicuous and I really don't like that. And bad publicity messes with my head and I find myself slightly freaked out.
And I'm married to a guy who is going to attract bad publicity throughout our lifetime. He will always call a spade a spade, and even kindly offer to label the different parts of the spade for those whom he thinks would benefit from such an education. He won't back down on issues of principle, nor where he sees someone in a powerless or relatively powerless position being treated unfairly, and he's in a position to do something about it. He will put himself on the line rather than have people think that he is wonderful, and frequently goes out of his way to demonstrate to students that he is a broken vessel so that they don't think too highly of him by showing them aspects of himself which other people would keep hidden under all circumstances. He won't pretend to believe what other people want him to believe, whether he is from their 'party' or not. Of course, like everyone he does it well sometimes, and other times clumsily. Sometimes the effect of his actions don't match his intentions, but I honestly can't think of many times over the years I've known him where he hasn't acted out of a desire to further the interests of others.
I admire him immensely for these things. And for his ability to count the cost of each of them, and decide to wear it, so that when it comes back to bite him he isn't resentful and doesn't think someone 'owes' him because he did the right thing.
I do however want to invent a machine which beeps when the angels leave. When the angels fear to tread somewhere and they all take off - I think then is a good time to sit down and be quiet. And its usually the time when Levor starts to speak. Actually, to be honest, it is usually the time when someone needs to speak if the principle or the person are to be defended. But increasingly, I am beginning to realise that Levor is one of those someone's, and that it is likely that he will be increasingly visible. And so I have forlorn hopes that we could get a machine which beeps, so that at least he knows when that situation is happening. Not that it would change anything.
I really don't want to change him, because there are so few people like this, and he is quintessentially like this. And I really admire it. But the cost is so high.
One of the things I was really looking forward to when we came to Oxford was sinking out the public eye for a while. And it has been so nice. I thought to myself that I would have a few years to get my head together on the issue before we came back to Sydney and quite possibly found Levor cutting a more public figure. Time to work through the anger and defensiveness and the desire to say, "But does it have to be you?"
But already - after a month - Levor is currently engaged in debate on a particular blogsite designed to demonstrate that Sydney Anglicans are heretics. These guys are going to paste him. He knows that, but he tries to engage them anyway, being firm (but not strident) and asking genuine questions.
Me? I would say that they weren't worth engaging with. I wouldn't even bother reading the blog. I wouldn't care about them. They are jerks. (Who sets up a blog just to attack a group of fellow Christians???)
Levor? Totally engaging with them - at least having a go and drawing on training with lots of other similar situations in an attempt to engage them for their good. Because he does care. And in the process he's using his real name.
The angels have left the building. *beep* *beep* *beep*
I do not like publicity, whether it is good or bad. Of course, good publicity tickles my pride, but it makes me conspicuous and I really don't like that. And bad publicity messes with my head and I find myself slightly freaked out.
And I'm married to a guy who is going to attract bad publicity throughout our lifetime. He will always call a spade a spade, and even kindly offer to label the different parts of the spade for those whom he thinks would benefit from such an education. He won't back down on issues of principle, nor where he sees someone in a powerless or relatively powerless position being treated unfairly, and he's in a position to do something about it. He will put himself on the line rather than have people think that he is wonderful, and frequently goes out of his way to demonstrate to students that he is a broken vessel so that they don't think too highly of him by showing them aspects of himself which other people would keep hidden under all circumstances. He won't pretend to believe what other people want him to believe, whether he is from their 'party' or not. Of course, like everyone he does it well sometimes, and other times clumsily. Sometimes the effect of his actions don't match his intentions, but I honestly can't think of many times over the years I've known him where he hasn't acted out of a desire to further the interests of others.
I admire him immensely for these things. And for his ability to count the cost of each of them, and decide to wear it, so that when it comes back to bite him he isn't resentful and doesn't think someone 'owes' him because he did the right thing.
I do however want to invent a machine which beeps when the angels leave. When the angels fear to tread somewhere and they all take off - I think then is a good time to sit down and be quiet. And its usually the time when Levor starts to speak. Actually, to be honest, it is usually the time when someone needs to speak if the principle or the person are to be defended. But increasingly, I am beginning to realise that Levor is one of those someone's, and that it is likely that he will be increasingly visible. And so I have forlorn hopes that we could get a machine which beeps, so that at least he knows when that situation is happening. Not that it would change anything.
I really don't want to change him, because there are so few people like this, and he is quintessentially like this. And I really admire it. But the cost is so high.
One of the things I was really looking forward to when we came to Oxford was sinking out the public eye for a while. And it has been so nice. I thought to myself that I would have a few years to get my head together on the issue before we came back to Sydney and quite possibly found Levor cutting a more public figure. Time to work through the anger and defensiveness and the desire to say, "But does it have to be you?"
But already - after a month - Levor is currently engaged in debate on a particular blogsite designed to demonstrate that Sydney Anglicans are heretics. These guys are going to paste him. He knows that, but he tries to engage them anyway, being firm (but not strident) and asking genuine questions.
Me? I would say that they weren't worth engaging with. I wouldn't even bother reading the blog. I wouldn't care about them. They are jerks. (Who sets up a blog just to attack a group of fellow Christians???)
Levor? Totally engaging with them - at least having a go and drawing on training with lots of other similar situations in an attempt to engage them for their good. Because he does care. And in the process he's using his real name.
The angels have left the building. *beep* *beep* *beep*
Sunday, 21 October 2007
10 Things I like about Oxford
In no particularly order…
1. It’s a beautiful place, with an abundance of gorgeous trees, interesting buildings and cobbled streets. It’s a great place to just walk around in.
2. Levor smiles for no reason. It’s been years since I’ve seen him just smile.
3. No-one knows who we are. We aren’t important (either in a good or bad way) and no-one cares what we think or say. What I say in the Bible study group I’m part of isn’t the ‘right answer’ just because it is me saying it.
4. Church is enjoyable and enriching.
5. There are a lot of very edible cheeses to be had.
6. The pace of life is delicious. Our diary has blank spaces after being crammed full for months. I don’t have to do things on particular days. Levor can just study. He doesn’t have to do that plus sixty million other things, while juggling something else on the side. We are having evenings off and Sundays off and having conversations and watching Lewis (Morse spin-off) and listening to music… and on Thursday we are hoping to go out and see Antigone at a playhouse. This is really, really good. I’m sure it won’t last but it is almost like a holiday at the moment.
7. We haven’t had a phone for two and a half weeks. We have one now, but we don’t have an answering machine and have decided not to get one. People can ring again or email us, and returning phone calls is not something we’re good at anyway. I think we deal with change by bunkering down and not having a phone has really helped with this. Other people need to feel connected to people, but I think we are completely the opposite. We can only connect with people when we are sufficiently together to have something to give them. So, being by ourselves has been really therapeutic.
8. The medical system here is really good. Except for the tendency to not give people tests and drugs because it increases the NHS bill. I’ve seen the midwife and the doctor and next week we go to visit the hospital where (God willing) we’ll have our baby. It’s been so easy and is a lot more patient friendly than Australia.
9. There are lots of berries in the supermarkets and they are reasonably cheap.
10. We have a window in our apartment (on the fourth floor), which has a tree right outside it. Squirrels climb the tree and dance about in the branches, and when they are busy doing other things, pigeons come and sit quietly in the branches and think little pigeon thoughts. We can also see across the top of some of Oxford, a skyline of chimney pots perched on terrace houses and off in the distance there is a hill of some kind. We can see the rain clouds coming across the horizon and when it rains hard (which it did just this morning), the rain drums on the roof. It’s been a long time since I’ve lived in a place where you can lie in bed with a book under the covers, and listen to the rain.
1. It’s a beautiful place, with an abundance of gorgeous trees, interesting buildings and cobbled streets. It’s a great place to just walk around in.
2. Levor smiles for no reason. It’s been years since I’ve seen him just smile.
3. No-one knows who we are. We aren’t important (either in a good or bad way) and no-one cares what we think or say. What I say in the Bible study group I’m part of isn’t the ‘right answer’ just because it is me saying it.
4. Church is enjoyable and enriching.
5. There are a lot of very edible cheeses to be had.
6. The pace of life is delicious. Our diary has blank spaces after being crammed full for months. I don’t have to do things on particular days. Levor can just study. He doesn’t have to do that plus sixty million other things, while juggling something else on the side. We are having evenings off and Sundays off and having conversations and watching Lewis (Morse spin-off) and listening to music… and on Thursday we are hoping to go out and see Antigone at a playhouse. This is really, really good. I’m sure it won’t last but it is almost like a holiday at the moment.
7. We haven’t had a phone for two and a half weeks. We have one now, but we don’t have an answering machine and have decided not to get one. People can ring again or email us, and returning phone calls is not something we’re good at anyway. I think we deal with change by bunkering down and not having a phone has really helped with this. Other people need to feel connected to people, but I think we are completely the opposite. We can only connect with people when we are sufficiently together to have something to give them. So, being by ourselves has been really therapeutic.
8. The medical system here is really good. Except for the tendency to not give people tests and drugs because it increases the NHS bill. I’ve seen the midwife and the doctor and next week we go to visit the hospital where (God willing) we’ll have our baby. It’s been so easy and is a lot more patient friendly than Australia.
9. There are lots of berries in the supermarkets and they are reasonably cheap.
10. We have a window in our apartment (on the fourth floor), which has a tree right outside it. Squirrels climb the tree and dance about in the branches, and when they are busy doing other things, pigeons come and sit quietly in the branches and think little pigeon thoughts. We can also see across the top of some of Oxford, a skyline of chimney pots perched on terrace houses and off in the distance there is a hill of some kind. We can see the rain clouds coming across the horizon and when it rains hard (which it did just this morning), the rain drums on the roof. It’s been a long time since I’ve lived in a place where you can lie in bed with a book under the covers, and listen to the rain.
Tuesday, 16 October 2007
Church
I am enjoying church.
We entertained notions of at least visiting a different church and even flirted with the idea of belonging to a church somewhere else. Most of those in exile from the Antipodes in the area wind up at St Ebbe’s, so we wanted to be contrary. But it’s tricky without a car, and without access to the internet to find out what else is available. So, we have given into the inevitable and gone along.
It’s hard not to keep going though because it is genuinely enjoyable. We’ve gone to the evening congregation which is slightly clueless on our part, but we refuse to be entirely predictable. Although I can’t see us taking a newborn out in the middle of winter on public transport at 6pm to church, and I predict that we will succumb to the inevitable and wind up at the family service, I think we’ll miss the 6:30pm service for a few reasons.
Both weeks we’ve been the preaching has been really very good. And at the moment we are in the middle of a series on 2 Samuel, and its being preached as narrative in its salvific-historical context without a clumsy ‘Jesus-jump’ for the third point. That is such a rarity in the western world as to invite attendance at church just for the novelty value. Besides, the preacher reminds me of Cynergy’s preaching a bit – the same nimbleness of expression and neatness of arrangement, and a couple of similar hand gestures. It’s kind of cool.
And then there is the music. The guy who is music director is from our year at College, but he’s done something quite unique with the music. I don’t know whether it feeds off the service (and something unique to the English), or feeds into the service, but the service with the music is profoundly doxological. I don’t know how he blends the music so that it is neither workmanlike and stodgy, nor giving the sense that music is a concession to a weakminded congregation, but provides a context in which both the horizontal and vertical dimension of fellowship is given expression in such a way as to be both meaningful (without being sentimental) and worshipful. So I find that I’m not just looking forward to the sermon but I’m busily engaged in the whole service and almost surprised when it is over.
Overall, it feels like a service for grown ups, who are serious about trying to be Christian, trying to repent, and wanting to remember who Jesus is and what he has done. I am really enjoying it.
We entertained notions of at least visiting a different church and even flirted with the idea of belonging to a church somewhere else. Most of those in exile from the Antipodes in the area wind up at St Ebbe’s, so we wanted to be contrary. But it’s tricky without a car, and without access to the internet to find out what else is available. So, we have given into the inevitable and gone along.
It’s hard not to keep going though because it is genuinely enjoyable. We’ve gone to the evening congregation which is slightly clueless on our part, but we refuse to be entirely predictable. Although I can’t see us taking a newborn out in the middle of winter on public transport at 6pm to church, and I predict that we will succumb to the inevitable and wind up at the family service, I think we’ll miss the 6:30pm service for a few reasons.
Both weeks we’ve been the preaching has been really very good. And at the moment we are in the middle of a series on 2 Samuel, and its being preached as narrative in its salvific-historical context without a clumsy ‘Jesus-jump’ for the third point. That is such a rarity in the western world as to invite attendance at church just for the novelty value. Besides, the preacher reminds me of Cynergy’s preaching a bit – the same nimbleness of expression and neatness of arrangement, and a couple of similar hand gestures. It’s kind of cool.
And then there is the music. The guy who is music director is from our year at College, but he’s done something quite unique with the music. I don’t know whether it feeds off the service (and something unique to the English), or feeds into the service, but the service with the music is profoundly doxological. I don’t know how he blends the music so that it is neither workmanlike and stodgy, nor giving the sense that music is a concession to a weakminded congregation, but provides a context in which both the horizontal and vertical dimension of fellowship is given expression in such a way as to be both meaningful (without being sentimental) and worshipful. So I find that I’m not just looking forward to the sermon but I’m busily engaged in the whole service and almost surprised when it is over.
Overall, it feels like a service for grown ups, who are serious about trying to be Christian, trying to repent, and wanting to remember who Jesus is and what he has done. I am really enjoying it.
Prize
There is a prize that really needs to be given out. This prize is for the weirdest goodbye we had as we were leaving.
This guy was telling Levor that there were two things he would always remember about him. The first was his gentleness in dealing with a particularly complex pastoral situation. The second? He said, “Don’t take this the wrong way. But you have all the qualities of a bear”. And then he walked away.
(PS: I deleted the last post in a bemused attempt to continue to conceal my identity, which as most regular readers already know it is rather strange. But there you have it.) Oh, and we now have internet access at home, so I'm back.
This guy was telling Levor that there were two things he would always remember about him. The first was his gentleness in dealing with a particularly complex pastoral situation. The second? He said, “Don’t take this the wrong way. But you have all the qualities of a bear”. And then he walked away.
(PS: I deleted the last post in a bemused attempt to continue to conceal my identity, which as most regular readers already know it is rather strange. But there you have it.) Oh, and we now have internet access at home, so I'm back.
Wednesday, 5 September 2007
Australian Christians and their history
This is a small rant about Australian Christians and their disconnection with their own history. It's a rant because so many assumptions are made on the basis of no information, and because how we see our history determines how we make decisions and live now. What we think of what happened form our 'blinkers' in the here and now. It's always good to know you are wearing blinkers and what they are.
But so many of us don't. We think...
1. That Australia has no Christian heritage to speak of, buying the very successful lie propagated by Manning Clark and others who have crafted Australian history to suit their secular or actively non-Christian agendas. The story of Australia is peppered with many people who were Christian and have a profound impact on the shaping of the nation. David Jones (of department store fame) was an active Christian, for example, and had an impact on society beyond merely economic stimulation. If you take the Christian data into account with the secular data, you bump into Christians all over the place, having an impact on all kinds of sectors in the development of Australia.
2. That Australian Christianity has never done anything. This is frankly ridiculous. If you have a society (as Australian society was in the early 19th Century), which is populated by a bunch of unmotivated, drunk, immoral people, you don't have a healthy society because nobody gives a damn about anyone else and there are no reliable structures which enable society to function well. The one group which consistently challenged this ethos were the Christians. If they hadn't challenged society and put their money where their mouth was and made changes to how society ran, lobbying Britain and sometimes just making changes, it is hard to see how Australia could have been healthy enough to start expanding and developing in the mid-19th century.
3. That Australian Christianity was so tied to the state that it lacked any possibility of impact on society. The only way you can run this argument is by ignoring people like Richard Johnson. Yes, he was a 'government employee' chosen by the Evangelical Anglicans in England. He was supposed to be paid, get a cow (for his family), a church and given various rights within the colony. He wasn't. He built his own house and church, grew his own crops, and got stones thrown at him as he walked down the street. One of the governors marched his soldiers out during his sermons each week. Why? Because he preached the gospel and spoke out against the immorality he saw damaging the people in early NSW. He also taught people how to read and thought Aboriginal people should be treated with dignity, even to the point of volunteering himself as a hostage in an early negotiation between the Aboriginal people and the English.
Sure there were other 'state employees' who did do a fairly dreadful job of preaching the Gospel and probably didn't even believe it. But to dismiss someone like Johnson (and later Marsden and others) is to deny evidence which refutes the conclusion that the state church hindered the work of the Gospel in the colony. Further, the absence of Johnson in the early colony would have rendered the colony without any Christian witness at all.
4. That there are no Australian heroes or heroines. Hopefully Johnson's example has already questioned this, but part of the problem with this is that we don't invest in Australian Church History. Our records are appalling. A basic introductory text on Australian Church History only stays in print for about 3 years and has a small run. Most of them are written by Anglo-Catholics or Liberals with a strong desire to negate evidence of Evangelical presence or impact in Australia. And primary source material has less hope of ever being published. So, we simply don't know very much about the missionaries on the goldfields, the bush preachers (inspired by Spurgeon), the men and women who started churches in the middle of nowhere, the ministers of some of the key denominations in some of the capital cities - the evidence for this is destroyed, lost, locked up in a library somewhere. Who knows what is really there? In America, it would be published. But we don't publish and buy what we don't value. And we don't value our Christian heritage because we refuse to believe it exists.
End of rant. It's hardly going to change anyone's mind, but it made me feel better.
But so many of us don't. We think...
1. That Australia has no Christian heritage to speak of, buying the very successful lie propagated by Manning Clark and others who have crafted Australian history to suit their secular or actively non-Christian agendas. The story of Australia is peppered with many people who were Christian and have a profound impact on the shaping of the nation. David Jones (of department store fame) was an active Christian, for example, and had an impact on society beyond merely economic stimulation. If you take the Christian data into account with the secular data, you bump into Christians all over the place, having an impact on all kinds of sectors in the development of Australia.
2. That Australian Christianity has never done anything. This is frankly ridiculous. If you have a society (as Australian society was in the early 19th Century), which is populated by a bunch of unmotivated, drunk, immoral people, you don't have a healthy society because nobody gives a damn about anyone else and there are no reliable structures which enable society to function well. The one group which consistently challenged this ethos were the Christians. If they hadn't challenged society and put their money where their mouth was and made changes to how society ran, lobbying Britain and sometimes just making changes, it is hard to see how Australia could have been healthy enough to start expanding and developing in the mid-19th century.
3. That Australian Christianity was so tied to the state that it lacked any possibility of impact on society. The only way you can run this argument is by ignoring people like Richard Johnson. Yes, he was a 'government employee' chosen by the Evangelical Anglicans in England. He was supposed to be paid, get a cow (for his family), a church and given various rights within the colony. He wasn't. He built his own house and church, grew his own crops, and got stones thrown at him as he walked down the street. One of the governors marched his soldiers out during his sermons each week. Why? Because he preached the gospel and spoke out against the immorality he saw damaging the people in early NSW. He also taught people how to read and thought Aboriginal people should be treated with dignity, even to the point of volunteering himself as a hostage in an early negotiation between the Aboriginal people and the English.
Sure there were other 'state employees' who did do a fairly dreadful job of preaching the Gospel and probably didn't even believe it. But to dismiss someone like Johnson (and later Marsden and others) is to deny evidence which refutes the conclusion that the state church hindered the work of the Gospel in the colony. Further, the absence of Johnson in the early colony would have rendered the colony without any Christian witness at all.
4. That there are no Australian heroes or heroines. Hopefully Johnson's example has already questioned this, but part of the problem with this is that we don't invest in Australian Church History. Our records are appalling. A basic introductory text on Australian Church History only stays in print for about 3 years and has a small run. Most of them are written by Anglo-Catholics or Liberals with a strong desire to negate evidence of Evangelical presence or impact in Australia. And primary source material has less hope of ever being published. So, we simply don't know very much about the missionaries on the goldfields, the bush preachers (inspired by Spurgeon), the men and women who started churches in the middle of nowhere, the ministers of some of the key denominations in some of the capital cities - the evidence for this is destroyed, lost, locked up in a library somewhere. Who knows what is really there? In America, it would be published. But we don't publish and buy what we don't value. And we don't value our Christian heritage because we refuse to believe it exists.
End of rant. It's hardly going to change anyone's mind, but it made me feel better.
Friday, 31 August 2007
Change
Change is weird.
It messes with your head in ways you don't expect. You get tired and can't work out why. You react in strange ways. Small extra changes throw you, so that you wind up depressed or anxious or listening to jazz.
There is rather a lot of change for us at the moment. There is also a very full schedule of goodbyes and packing and paperwork. The combination isn't too good, and I'm looking forward to getting on the plane in a little over two weeks and not having to do anything. I'm sure I'll be over it in after the first four hours, but the initial luxury of not needing to sort something out is attractive.
Tiny's arrival in about 16 weeks is the subject of even greater change, which while anticipated and joyous and so forth, is also substantial. I expect we'll just walk around like zombies for the next year till we get through it all. But we do the zombie walk really well, so everything will be fine!
It messes with your head in ways you don't expect. You get tired and can't work out why. You react in strange ways. Small extra changes throw you, so that you wind up depressed or anxious or listening to jazz.
There is rather a lot of change for us at the moment. There is also a very full schedule of goodbyes and packing and paperwork. The combination isn't too good, and I'm looking forward to getting on the plane in a little over two weeks and not having to do anything. I'm sure I'll be over it in after the first four hours, but the initial luxury of not needing to sort something out is attractive.
Tiny's arrival in about 16 weeks is the subject of even greater change, which while anticipated and joyous and so forth, is also substantial. I expect we'll just walk around like zombies for the next year till we get through it all. But we do the zombie walk really well, so everything will be fine!
Traditions
We have very few traditions. One of my favourites is the one where we eat pancakes with maple syrup and berries for Christmas breakfast before going off to church on Christmas morning.
There's another one which works really well, where we read to each other while we drive on long distances. We usually read Terry Prachett books, which lend themselves to being read out aloud and are easy to listen to while you drive (which is important because this full moon we're having is not bringing out the best driving skills in the general population). So, I ended up driving from Canberra yesterday while Levor read for the whole three and a half hours. He does the best voices! It was the good part of a really long day.
There's another one which works really well, where we read to each other while we drive on long distances. We usually read Terry Prachett books, which lend themselves to being read out aloud and are easy to listen to while you drive (which is important because this full moon we're having is not bringing out the best driving skills in the general population). So, I ended up driving from Canberra yesterday while Levor read for the whole three and a half hours. He does the best voices! It was the good part of a really long day.
Tuesday, 21 August 2007
O Pity and Indignation!
Note: The title is a rather scrumptious line from a Gerard Manly Hopkins poem and has nothing to do with the post
I've been thinking about pity this week. This was partly sparked by a lot of interactions with people whose lives look to me to be in tatters, and who are facing the consequences of choices they have made or are continuing to make. I know that they would scorn to change or to be seen to be 'wrong', and would be indignant at my thinking they could have made better choices. But I maintain my position: if they had done things differently, their lives could be better than they are. But at the same time, I feel tremendous pity for them, particularly some of them.
It makes a difference to how I treat them, I've noticed. I am far more generous towards them and think of things I might be able to do for them, compared to other people. I don't honestly think I can 'make up' for what they have done to their lives, but I am sad that these are the lives they have to live out. I can't change their minds or their choices, but I would like to make something better for them.
I continued thinking about this through the week as I stumbled across Mark 5 again, a series of miracles Jesus performs for three powerless people in Palestine. "Deserving" is really not a category Jesus uses much in his ministry. It seems that often his actions are prompted by the immediate circumstances in which he sees people, and often the narrative offers "moved with compassion" as the reason for his actions. In fact, you could really see the entirety of Jesus' actions and words in life and death as an outworking of this 'compassion'.
I think we often think of compassion as weak or sentimental, but it doesn't look like either in Jesus' words or acts. It looks strong and commanding. He will give compassion full flight and change the course of his teaching (ch 2) or his actions (ch 5), even where there is a cost to that. Having complete wisdom to follow God's will in all things is of considerable benefit here!
But I do think it has implications for us as we imitate Christ in our limited way. It frees us up to be compassionate without being manipulated. It means that 'duty' and our responsibilities can be hamstrung for the needs of someone, which cry out to us and move us. We can give things up for people, with no expectation that they will be changed by them, but because we care. We don't always have to be strategic. We don't have to be 'non-emotional' as though this trumps logic or is in opposition to it. Our compassion can drive us into the field of good deeds prepared for us in advance in Christ Jesus.
I've been thinking about pity this week. This was partly sparked by a lot of interactions with people whose lives look to me to be in tatters, and who are facing the consequences of choices they have made or are continuing to make. I know that they would scorn to change or to be seen to be 'wrong', and would be indignant at my thinking they could have made better choices. But I maintain my position: if they had done things differently, their lives could be better than they are. But at the same time, I feel tremendous pity for them, particularly some of them.
It makes a difference to how I treat them, I've noticed. I am far more generous towards them and think of things I might be able to do for them, compared to other people. I don't honestly think I can 'make up' for what they have done to their lives, but I am sad that these are the lives they have to live out. I can't change their minds or their choices, but I would like to make something better for them.
I continued thinking about this through the week as I stumbled across Mark 5 again, a series of miracles Jesus performs for three powerless people in Palestine. "Deserving" is really not a category Jesus uses much in his ministry. It seems that often his actions are prompted by the immediate circumstances in which he sees people, and often the narrative offers "moved with compassion" as the reason for his actions. In fact, you could really see the entirety of Jesus' actions and words in life and death as an outworking of this 'compassion'.
I think we often think of compassion as weak or sentimental, but it doesn't look like either in Jesus' words or acts. It looks strong and commanding. He will give compassion full flight and change the course of his teaching (ch 2) or his actions (ch 5), even where there is a cost to that. Having complete wisdom to follow God's will in all things is of considerable benefit here!
But I do think it has implications for us as we imitate Christ in our limited way. It frees us up to be compassionate without being manipulated. It means that 'duty' and our responsibilities can be hamstrung for the needs of someone, which cry out to us and move us. We can give things up for people, with no expectation that they will be changed by them, but because we care. We don't always have to be strategic. We don't have to be 'non-emotional' as though this trumps logic or is in opposition to it. Our compassion can drive us into the field of good deeds prepared for us in advance in Christ Jesus.
Wednesday, 8 August 2007
Our House
In a timely answer to prayer, we were offered accomodation at Oxford last week. We'll be living in 'Summertown House' on Banbury Road - all very English and quite charming!
Here are pictures. Small but enclosed, which is good for keeping out the snow (not to be taken for granted) and close to both Wycliffe Hall and Oxford. Tiny (21 weeks old today) will even get to have his own room. (What we will do with the two single beds I'm not sure). We're grateful that our address is settled. It makes leaving easier, and may even mean I can negotiate the NHS and book into a hospital. (Though the way English bureauracy works I hold out little hope for accomplishing this!)
A bit over five weeks till we leave. Wow.
Here are pictures. Small but enclosed, which is good for keeping out the snow (not to be taken for granted) and close to both Wycliffe Hall and Oxford. Tiny (21 weeks old today) will even get to have his own room. (What we will do with the two single beds I'm not sure). We're grateful that our address is settled. It makes leaving easier, and may even mean I can negotiate the NHS and book into a hospital. (Though the way English bureauracy works I hold out little hope for accomplishing this!)
A bit over five weeks till we leave. Wow.
Tuesday, 7 August 2007
Faith
Levor has just finished preaching through a series on 'Faith'at College. I guess you would call it a series, though the first sermon was on Genesis 15, then Romans 4 and today's was just on 'faith'. The first two were exegetical; today's was topical. I think it was a very good series for a number of reasons:
1. It was good to stop and think about faith. It's easy to come up with different definitions which capture elements of faith, but which don't cover the complexity. So, 'believing God's promises' leaves out the fact that when we have faith in God we genuinely engage with God; it isn't just a cognitive exercise. It was good to realise the insufficiencies of most of my definitions and hopefully to do more justice to faith whenever I speak about it.
2. Being reminded about the central place of faith, while being reminded that the fact that faith is central actually makes God central was great. Faith isn't an end in itself, but a look of desperation at one's own resources which calls out of us a cry to God. I guess in that sense faith is foundational for prayer. Not that faith makes God do things, but that prayer is the practical outworking of seeing oneself clearly and knowing the need for God.
3. I really enjoyed the insight that unbelief is not just a mere rejection of 'facts about God', or God's promises, etc. But unbelief is also a rejection of the goodness of what God promises. So when we have faith in God, we both believe God, and also see great value in what he is giving us or promising us (like the guy who sold his stuff to get the pearl of great price).
4. Faith is Christ-shaped. It pivots around the work and promises of Christ, and is based on union with him. So Christian faith is unique, because it is intimately related to Christ and his death for our sins, and for all he gives us when we trust him.
There is more I haven't captured, and this is mostly from this morning's sermon, which rounded out the exegetical sermons nicely and was uniquely Levorian. I really enjoyed the series, and I think it was well worth doing.
1. It was good to stop and think about faith. It's easy to come up with different definitions which capture elements of faith, but which don't cover the complexity. So, 'believing God's promises' leaves out the fact that when we have faith in God we genuinely engage with God; it isn't just a cognitive exercise. It was good to realise the insufficiencies of most of my definitions and hopefully to do more justice to faith whenever I speak about it.
2. Being reminded about the central place of faith, while being reminded that the fact that faith is central actually makes God central was great. Faith isn't an end in itself, but a look of desperation at one's own resources which calls out of us a cry to God. I guess in that sense faith is foundational for prayer. Not that faith makes God do things, but that prayer is the practical outworking of seeing oneself clearly and knowing the need for God.
3. I really enjoyed the insight that unbelief is not just a mere rejection of 'facts about God', or God's promises, etc. But unbelief is also a rejection of the goodness of what God promises. So when we have faith in God, we both believe God, and also see great value in what he is giving us or promising us (like the guy who sold his stuff to get the pearl of great price).
4. Faith is Christ-shaped. It pivots around the work and promises of Christ, and is based on union with him. So Christian faith is unique, because it is intimately related to Christ and his death for our sins, and for all he gives us when we trust him.
There is more I haven't captured, and this is mostly from this morning's sermon, which rounded out the exegetical sermons nicely and was uniquely Levorian. I really enjoyed the series, and I think it was well worth doing.
Tuesday, 24 July 2007
Oops
Such a long silent time. Will it ever end?
The essay has been handed in (a whole month ago now). We have visas (only for a year); we have plane tickets. Our boxes have been shipped. The MAC Conference is over. We didn't make it to Brisbane but were sick for two weeks instead. We had 3 days holiday, during which we discovered that Levor is exhausted. We have plane tickets to Brisbane for a weekend in August. Levor did a mountain of marking. These activities have gobbled all our time over the last month.
Still to do... lots of admin type things so we can leave the country. An immense amount of catching up with people before we leave. A women's retreat this weekend (at which I am speaking three times). A lot of emails to respond to. Trips to Brisbane, Canberra and possibly Melbourne to sort out. Another women's retreat in August to plan and sort out sermons. Organising, packing and storing our stuff. And Levor has more marking.
I thought the time after the essay would be relatively relaxed. I am officially delusional.
The essay has been handed in (a whole month ago now). We have visas (only for a year); we have plane tickets. Our boxes have been shipped. The MAC Conference is over. We didn't make it to Brisbane but were sick for two weeks instead. We had 3 days holiday, during which we discovered that Levor is exhausted. We have plane tickets to Brisbane for a weekend in August. Levor did a mountain of marking. These activities have gobbled all our time over the last month.
Still to do... lots of admin type things so we can leave the country. An immense amount of catching up with people before we leave. A women's retreat this weekend (at which I am speaking three times). A lot of emails to respond to. Trips to Brisbane, Canberra and possibly Melbourne to sort out. Another women's retreat in August to plan and sort out sermons. Organising, packing and storing our stuff. And Levor has more marking.
I thought the time after the essay would be relatively relaxed. I am officially delusional.
Tuesday, 19 June 2007
Superpowers
I have been silent (and therefore golden) for several weeks. As my fan club, (thank you, thank you very much, I love you all), have been duly occupied with the affairs of life (congrats to Syn and CP btw on their little Samgee), I figured I could sink quietly into the background with little fuss. But now, I feel I can blog again. There are several reasons for this.
First, I am 500 words shy of finishing my essay, and it looks like it might be finished by the due date. Second, most of my other projects are now complete. Third, I don't have to worry about accidentally mentioning that we are expecting a child, because now we are telling people. Being us, we're doing a fairly pathetic job of it, with a long list of people on the back of our study door whom we have yet to contact. But it means I can say it 'out loud' here. Most of you already knew anyway, but hey.
Which brings me to the point of this post. I really enjoy being pregnant, not just because I really want a baby, but because it gives you superpowers. I also haven't been sick, which probably has rather a lot to do with it. But the superpowers I have are cool... I have:
1. Cat napping ability
I get tired. So, I lie down and go to sleep. I wake when I am rested (it was three hours the other day!), and get up. I am not groggy or sluggish, but I'm ready for the next round of whatever. And it doesn't disrupt my sleeping patterns. This is how cats live. It's a great way to live.
2. Idiocy identification
I can spot an idiot from a distance. I knew there were idiots before, and occasionally I ran across them and would experience frustration and annoyance. But I never knew they were everywhere. There should be warnings! Even Levor commented the other day that I was quite irritable, demonstrating that he has moments of idiocy. I am surrounded by idiots.
3. Carniverosity
I like meat. I have never liked meat. And now I don't just like meat, but I like meatlovers type meat. I eat rissoles, steak sandwiches, chipolatas and even pick the bones clean of the other meat I eat. It's not just that I can eat it, which I do with vegetables as I force the necessary 5 serves down my throat each day. It's that I like meat. I even rang Levor at work just to explain how good a steak sandwich was.
4. Heat generation
This is one of my favourites. I wander around cold in winter. I have a doona on as soon as Autumn starts to cool the weather down. I actually quite like winter, but I just get cold. Now, I'm not that cold. This is good, because if things go well and we leave for England in September, we will have only autumn and winter for a year. So, hopefully for a huge chunk of that I will be cosy.
I'm not sure the Fantastic Four would accept me, but I enjoy my superpowers.
First, I am 500 words shy of finishing my essay, and it looks like it might be finished by the due date. Second, most of my other projects are now complete. Third, I don't have to worry about accidentally mentioning that we are expecting a child, because now we are telling people. Being us, we're doing a fairly pathetic job of it, with a long list of people on the back of our study door whom we have yet to contact. But it means I can say it 'out loud' here. Most of you already knew anyway, but hey.
Which brings me to the point of this post. I really enjoy being pregnant, not just because I really want a baby, but because it gives you superpowers. I also haven't been sick, which probably has rather a lot to do with it. But the superpowers I have are cool... I have:
1. Cat napping ability
I get tired. So, I lie down and go to sleep. I wake when I am rested (it was three hours the other day!), and get up. I am not groggy or sluggish, but I'm ready for the next round of whatever. And it doesn't disrupt my sleeping patterns. This is how cats live. It's a great way to live.
2. Idiocy identification
I can spot an idiot from a distance. I knew there were idiots before, and occasionally I ran across them and would experience frustration and annoyance. But I never knew they were everywhere. There should be warnings! Even Levor commented the other day that I was quite irritable, demonstrating that he has moments of idiocy. I am surrounded by idiots.
3. Carniverosity
I like meat. I have never liked meat. And now I don't just like meat, but I like meatlovers type meat. I eat rissoles, steak sandwiches, chipolatas and even pick the bones clean of the other meat I eat. It's not just that I can eat it, which I do with vegetables as I force the necessary 5 serves down my throat each day. It's that I like meat. I even rang Levor at work just to explain how good a steak sandwich was.
4. Heat generation
This is one of my favourites. I wander around cold in winter. I have a doona on as soon as Autumn starts to cool the weather down. I actually quite like winter, but I just get cold. Now, I'm not that cold. This is good, because if things go well and we leave for England in September, we will have only autumn and winter for a year. So, hopefully for a huge chunk of that I will be cosy.
I'm not sure the Fantastic Four would accept me, but I enjoy my superpowers.
Friday, 25 May 2007
Morse, Life and Death
I watched Inspector Morse with Levor a few weeks ago. This is nothing new. We are slowly working our way through the series and thoroughly enjoying them. It's something about a character driven drama and good casting and scripts. And theme music which takes one's breath away.
As we come to the end of the series (we have two to go), Morse is actually having to be half-decent to Lewis in order for Lewis to stick with him, which is creating an interesting dynamic in itself, and leads to many moments when Morse realises that he's somehow caused offense. His reaction is of pained surprise, which is so entertaining.
During the last episode we watched Morse has to let Lewis have one of these moments (where Lewis is right and Morse isn't), because his behaviour has been fairly unpleasant and he's come to realise it. The moment is interesting. A woman has died, shot by Morse as she was in the act of attempting to murder Lewis. She has had a truly awful life and is quite confused. Her life from that point would be lived in psychiatric facilities or prison, because she has murdered a number of people in cold blood. Lewis comments: "She's at peace now." Morse screws up his face to protest and thinks better of it, so Lewis gets the last word.
But it struck me that Morse was here representing an almost vanished view of life. That is, that the life this woman had, for all its sadness and difficulty and with all its potential thwarted is still better than no life.
It is better to be alive than dead. I don't think this is believed anymore by my generation or the next. Quality of life, self-awareness and so forth have replaced life. Just being alive is a good thing. And of course, Christians believe that this good thing is a gift from God, and that it should not be taken for granted. It's much easier to believe that death is easier and better, lulled by the distant music of the Romantic movement:
'....I did think it rich to die
to cease upon the midnight with no pain...'
and many similiar ideas fit with our view of death. Death is a good thing; a sweet release.
But death isn't. Death is the time of no more chances, of separation that can't be fixed, of no more words or whispers, of no more connection with others. Death rips away from us our heart's desire and takes from us those we struggle to relate with in the middle of the struggle, leaving us always with a sense of irresolution and unfinished business. It is the nature of death to damage us this way.
There are grey areas, certainly where pain and brain function make it hard to work out even when death is present. But this is on the edge of the debate after we've worked out what we think about life and death in themselves. These determine how we can proceed in other areas. So, this is my opinion on the central issue. Life is good. Even if your experience of it is less than ideal (and it is likely to be in this world). Life is a gift. No-one should take it away from you. No-one should threaten it's continuance. No-one should say that it is worth less than their life.
On this one, I'm with Morse.
As we come to the end of the series (we have two to go), Morse is actually having to be half-decent to Lewis in order for Lewis to stick with him, which is creating an interesting dynamic in itself, and leads to many moments when Morse realises that he's somehow caused offense. His reaction is of pained surprise, which is so entertaining.
During the last episode we watched Morse has to let Lewis have one of these moments (where Lewis is right and Morse isn't), because his behaviour has been fairly unpleasant and he's come to realise it. The moment is interesting. A woman has died, shot by Morse as she was in the act of attempting to murder Lewis. She has had a truly awful life and is quite confused. Her life from that point would be lived in psychiatric facilities or prison, because she has murdered a number of people in cold blood. Lewis comments: "She's at peace now." Morse screws up his face to protest and thinks better of it, so Lewis gets the last word.
But it struck me that Morse was here representing an almost vanished view of life. That is, that the life this woman had, for all its sadness and difficulty and with all its potential thwarted is still better than no life.
It is better to be alive than dead. I don't think this is believed anymore by my generation or the next. Quality of life, self-awareness and so forth have replaced life. Just being alive is a good thing. And of course, Christians believe that this good thing is a gift from God, and that it should not be taken for granted. It's much easier to believe that death is easier and better, lulled by the distant music of the Romantic movement:
'....I did think it rich to die
to cease upon the midnight with no pain...'
and many similiar ideas fit with our view of death. Death is a good thing; a sweet release.
But death isn't. Death is the time of no more chances, of separation that can't be fixed, of no more words or whispers, of no more connection with others. Death rips away from us our heart's desire and takes from us those we struggle to relate with in the middle of the struggle, leaving us always with a sense of irresolution and unfinished business. It is the nature of death to damage us this way.
There are grey areas, certainly where pain and brain function make it hard to work out even when death is present. But this is on the edge of the debate after we've worked out what we think about life and death in themselves. These determine how we can proceed in other areas. So, this is my opinion on the central issue. Life is good. Even if your experience of it is less than ideal (and it is likely to be in this world). Life is a gift. No-one should take it away from you. No-one should threaten it's continuance. No-one should say that it is worth less than their life.
On this one, I'm with Morse.
Thursday, 24 May 2007
Australian History List
Here are some details from Australian History which I find either scandalous or amusing...
1. One of the suggested names for Canberra was 'Aryan Town'
2. Gov. Grose would not let the soldiers marry their mistresses because they were ex-convicts and so, beneath the soldiers' station.
3. In World War 2, Britain tried to defend Singapore with two aging battleships. Not too surprisingly they were unsuccesful and Australia had to find a new alliance (with a country slightly more interested in the Pacific).
4. Protestants were involved in the subscription for the first Catholic chapel in the colony.
5. Lang was the only person who thought the Aboriginal people should be converted and not first civilised in the 19th Century. Of course, no one listened.
6. A baptist preacher was sued by the Herald in Sydney for asserting that Aboriginal people were human beings.
7. For a period of time, the economy of the colony was rum. That paper money ain't good for anything! We're not a country of alcoholics. Not us.
8. The highest percentage increase in any place or at any time for Methodism was in the late 1800's on the Victorian goldfields.
9. Lutheran churches were burnt down during WWI, pastors imprisoned and general persecutions against Lutherans took place. Most were generations-old Australians, but because their church services were conducted in German this was considered a betrayal of England. Many German names were changed to their English equivalents during this time.
10. The most awful problems caused to the Aboriginal people were as a result of Social Darwinism adopted by the government (and many missions) in the mid 1800's.
There you go. There's nothing like a few random facts to brighten one's day. I hope yours is glowing.
1. One of the suggested names for Canberra was 'Aryan Town'
2. Gov. Grose would not let the soldiers marry their mistresses because they were ex-convicts and so, beneath the soldiers' station.
3. In World War 2, Britain tried to defend Singapore with two aging battleships. Not too surprisingly they were unsuccesful and Australia had to find a new alliance (with a country slightly more interested in the Pacific).
4. Protestants were involved in the subscription for the first Catholic chapel in the colony.
5. Lang was the only person who thought the Aboriginal people should be converted and not first civilised in the 19th Century. Of course, no one listened.
6. A baptist preacher was sued by the Herald in Sydney for asserting that Aboriginal people were human beings.
7. For a period of time, the economy of the colony was rum. That paper money ain't good for anything! We're not a country of alcoholics. Not us.
8. The highest percentage increase in any place or at any time for Methodism was in the late 1800's on the Victorian goldfields.
9. Lutheran churches were burnt down during WWI, pastors imprisoned and general persecutions against Lutherans took place. Most were generations-old Australians, but because their church services were conducted in German this was considered a betrayal of England. Many German names were changed to their English equivalents during this time.
10. The most awful problems caused to the Aboriginal people were as a result of Social Darwinism adopted by the government (and many missions) in the mid 1800's.
There you go. There's nothing like a few random facts to brighten one's day. I hope yours is glowing.
Friday, 18 May 2007
Righteous Woman and Inscrutable Man
Righteous Woman looked out through the muslin curtains as the sun sank into the far distant hills. The light danced away towards the vanishing sun like sheep being called home by their shepherd at the end of a long day. She sighed contentedly, looking over at her new fiance, Inscrutable Man. He was deeply ensconced in a book and had been for some time. She wandered around the room, lighting the candles. Inscrutable Man startled her by glancing up suddenly from his book and saying: "…there is not a correspondence and similarity of being, an analogia entis. The being of God cannot be compared with that of man. But it is not a question of this twofold being. It is a question of the relationship within the being of God on the one side and between the being of God and that of man on the other. Between these two relationships as such – and it is in this sense that the second is the image of the first – there is correspondence and similarity. There is an analogia relationis."
"Yes dear. How very remarkable!" soothed Righteous Woman. Inscrutable Man smiled glassily and returned to his book. Righteous Woman congratulated herself on a far more suitable match with Inscrutable Man than Physically Magnificent Man. Magnificent Man was always doing things and not caring about the ethical motivation and consequences. It was impossible for a responsible woman to provide sufficient moral guidance for such a creature! Inscrutable Man read and made obtuse comments. He needed no moral guidance for he had no relationship with the real world. He barely recognised his own face in a mirror. Smiling, she picked up her embroidery and making small, neat stitches, contemplated this match made in heaven!
(Thanks CP. This was a truly satisfying idea)
"Yes dear. How very remarkable!" soothed Righteous Woman. Inscrutable Man smiled glassily and returned to his book. Righteous Woman congratulated herself on a far more suitable match with Inscrutable Man than Physically Magnificent Man. Magnificent Man was always doing things and not caring about the ethical motivation and consequences. It was impossible for a responsible woman to provide sufficient moral guidance for such a creature! Inscrutable Man read and made obtuse comments. He needed no moral guidance for he had no relationship with the real world. He barely recognised his own face in a mirror. Smiling, she picked up her embroidery and making small, neat stitches, contemplated this match made in heaven!
(Thanks CP. This was a truly satisfying idea)
Thursday, 17 May 2007
Whinging about Barth
I would just like to say that Barth annoys me.
He has some good things to say. Sometimes he is provocative and startling in a helpful way. And I think that his motivation for doing theology was generally quite impressive, particularly given his liberal context.
But I am annoyed by his inability to communicate, and his conviction that communication is merely an incidental aspect of theology. In other words: "If you can't keep up, that's fine. I'm not going to make it easy for you! You'll have to find something else to do."
I am truly frustrated by his determination to eclipse humanity. So, we only know our humanity in Jesus and only have our humanity in him, and sin is an 'unreality' or way of not being which is such a contradiction that it seems impossible. These and other aspects of his theology make it impossible to understand how his theology actually plays out in the Real World. It's like a fascinating, interesting puzzle which assumes that gravity does not exist. It's cool, until you realise that actually gravity does exist and it's happening to you right now.
So, it's fine to say that Jesus is my humanity, but does that mean that non-Christians are not human? No! (of course, Nein!) says Barth. It means that humanity can only discover itself in Jesus. But that then means that his first statement is impractical. How can Jesus be my humanity and all humanity? What does that mean??? Or is it just words?
Similarly, does sin not exist because it is a contradiction of being? That seems to be the conclusion that Barth comes to. It's an ideal that cannot exist in the real world, where sin (and gravity) tend to be hard at work bringing things down.
Ultimately the contradictions in what Barth's saying make him stimulating but impossible to really understand. And it's as though that is self-protective: he can contradict anything and then state the opposite and you can't accuse him of denying anything. But you can't see what it is he is affirming either.
I realise and acknowledge that he had an amazing mind, but it is frankly unimpressive to have such a large mind that doesn't connect with reality. I think that is basic to the task of theology. So, I'm ticked off with Barth. I think the elaborate clothes he wove for the emperor were interesting, but insubstantial and not for public parades in this world.
It's all this gravity we peasants have to put up with. It doesn't go away just because someone denies it exists.
He has some good things to say. Sometimes he is provocative and startling in a helpful way. And I think that his motivation for doing theology was generally quite impressive, particularly given his liberal context.
But I am annoyed by his inability to communicate, and his conviction that communication is merely an incidental aspect of theology. In other words: "If you can't keep up, that's fine. I'm not going to make it easy for you! You'll have to find something else to do."
I am truly frustrated by his determination to eclipse humanity. So, we only know our humanity in Jesus and only have our humanity in him, and sin is an 'unreality' or way of not being which is such a contradiction that it seems impossible. These and other aspects of his theology make it impossible to understand how his theology actually plays out in the Real World. It's like a fascinating, interesting puzzle which assumes that gravity does not exist. It's cool, until you realise that actually gravity does exist and it's happening to you right now.
So, it's fine to say that Jesus is my humanity, but does that mean that non-Christians are not human? No! (of course, Nein!) says Barth. It means that humanity can only discover itself in Jesus. But that then means that his first statement is impractical. How can Jesus be my humanity and all humanity? What does that mean??? Or is it just words?
Similarly, does sin not exist because it is a contradiction of being? That seems to be the conclusion that Barth comes to. It's an ideal that cannot exist in the real world, where sin (and gravity) tend to be hard at work bringing things down.
Ultimately the contradictions in what Barth's saying make him stimulating but impossible to really understand. And it's as though that is self-protective: he can contradict anything and then state the opposite and you can't accuse him of denying anything. But you can't see what it is he is affirming either.
I realise and acknowledge that he had an amazing mind, but it is frankly unimpressive to have such a large mind that doesn't connect with reality. I think that is basic to the task of theology. So, I'm ticked off with Barth. I think the elaborate clothes he wove for the emperor were interesting, but insubstantial and not for public parades in this world.
It's all this gravity we peasants have to put up with. It doesn't go away just because someone denies it exists.
Sunday, 13 May 2007
Dodgy Victorian Novels
Last night I was tired. So, I ditched my current bedtime reading (a biography of Oliver Cromwell) for something less dense, and randomly selected one of my old trashy Victorian novels. My memories of them are of their sentimental, predictable storyline, with a line up of stereotyped characters.
It was all so much worse than I'd remembered!
I'd forgotten that the scenery descriptions are often simply hilarious, with the banal detail and desperate attempt to anthropomorphise everything in a sentimental way. Seriously, it's enough to put you off trees for life. You almost start expecting them to giggle when you walk past.
But the thing that really got to me last night was this pathological insistence that men have no moral backbone. In my story the Physically Magnificent Man is in love with the Righteous Woman, beautiful, elegant and so full of morality that one expects her to suddenly collapse under the weight of it all. We are told that she is independent, but still totally feminine (because there is such an obvious contradiction here). Her fiancee (the Physically Magnificent Man) is slightly scared of her but admires her moral fortitude. Into the story the tempetuous, delicate woman walks daintily. Her eyelashes are slightly damp (and therefore alluring) from her latest need to sob at her own imperfections. She had rescued a puppy from some mean boys, got stuck on a post for two hours because she can't climb a fence (hello?) and had to be undressed (down to her petticoat which was ripped! gasp!). She meets Magnificent Man and Righteous Woman when she comes to reclaim her puppy which is actually his and which at the behest of Righteous Woman, he gives to Delicate Girl.
So, it's fairly easy to see where the story is going to go. Righteous Woman will be left high and dry by Magnificent Man for Delicate Girl, who will smile bountifully and sob in turns until we are thoroughly sick of them all and sit down to watch Home and Away just to get some sense of reality.
What got to me this time was the ineptitude of the men in the story. They really are impoverished creatures. They only make good moral decisions because of women. They either have no capacity or no inclination to make such decisions apart from the women around them. Take away the women in their life and they would live immoral and wretched lives without any conscience. I realised that this is actually reasonably common in Victorian novels, and even in more serious novels, like Dicken's novels, you get the same dynamic. Not only does it undersell men, but it imposes too much responsibility on women.
I'm glad the Bible doesn't endorse this nonsense, and in fact flatly contradicts it. Often.
It was all so much worse than I'd remembered!
I'd forgotten that the scenery descriptions are often simply hilarious, with the banal detail and desperate attempt to anthropomorphise everything in a sentimental way. Seriously, it's enough to put you off trees for life. You almost start expecting them to giggle when you walk past.
But the thing that really got to me last night was this pathological insistence that men have no moral backbone. In my story the Physically Magnificent Man is in love with the Righteous Woman, beautiful, elegant and so full of morality that one expects her to suddenly collapse under the weight of it all. We are told that she is independent, but still totally feminine (because there is such an obvious contradiction here). Her fiancee (the Physically Magnificent Man) is slightly scared of her but admires her moral fortitude. Into the story the tempetuous, delicate woman walks daintily. Her eyelashes are slightly damp (and therefore alluring) from her latest need to sob at her own imperfections. She had rescued a puppy from some mean boys, got stuck on a post for two hours because she can't climb a fence (hello?) and had to be undressed (down to her petticoat which was ripped! gasp!). She meets Magnificent Man and Righteous Woman when she comes to reclaim her puppy which is actually his and which at the behest of Righteous Woman, he gives to Delicate Girl.
So, it's fairly easy to see where the story is going to go. Righteous Woman will be left high and dry by Magnificent Man for Delicate Girl, who will smile bountifully and sob in turns until we are thoroughly sick of them all and sit down to watch Home and Away just to get some sense of reality.
What got to me this time was the ineptitude of the men in the story. They really are impoverished creatures. They only make good moral decisions because of women. They either have no capacity or no inclination to make such decisions apart from the women around them. Take away the women in their life and they would live immoral and wretched lives without any conscience. I realised that this is actually reasonably common in Victorian novels, and even in more serious novels, like Dicken's novels, you get the same dynamic. Not only does it undersell men, but it imposes too much responsibility on women.
I'm glad the Bible doesn't endorse this nonsense, and in fact flatly contradicts it. Often.
Thursday, 10 May 2007
Shailer Park
Preparing my lecture for tonight, on the background and context of the debate regarding private school funding, as well as being asked recently, "What is Shailer Park like?" have prompted me to remember being educated at Shailer Park. So, here is my description of Shailer Park, with particular reference to the state high school there.
(BTW: I am militantly ignoring the rowdy boys and their gleeful machinations to impose structure on my blogging).
Shailer Park, by Wistwaveral, level 61 and 1/4
Shailer Park is on the 'good' side of the highway just south of Daisy Hill and north of Beenleigh, on the outskirts of Brisbane, QLD. Beenleigh is the 'end' of Brisbane, or was when we lived just north of there at Loganholme in the late 1980's. It's generally considered a dodgy place to live, with rampant crime, drugs and general malaise and boasts the end of the Beenleigh train line to the city. Beenleigh was about 7kms away from where we lived at Loganholme, and a long bike ride with several hills. If you wanted fast food or groceries, or wanted to go to the city (or in my case, later, to university), Beenleigh was where you went.
7 kms north was Shailer Park, a completely different place. It's a suburb in the way that Beenleigh is not. More people live there who are interested in building a life for themselves and their families, and who follow the more ordinary middle class drummer, rather than the knell of the crime-welfare vicious circle which was more prevalent in both Beenleigh and in Loganholme. Loganholme didn't have much crime, and the crime it had was second rate, like the guy who got hit in the head by a crowbar while walking down the street. It was a struggling suburb with very little superstructure apart from a road - drainage was an innovation of the early 1990's, and the corner shop was greeted enthusiastically when it finally opened in about 1989. Buses were an excellent invention that had nothing to do with us.
Crossing the highway to go to school was like entering another world. Shailer Park had buses, shops galore, things like gyms and florists, good roads and other such amenities. As schools go, Shailer Park high wasn't too bad. It was trying to connect with the non-Logan schools (and so distance itself from the less reputable Logan schools), and made every effort to give off the signals that it was respectable. We had musicals, sports, science labs (with functioning equipment), and both a year 8 centre and a year 11-12 centre, the years 9-10's being left to fend for themselves. There was only one major drug bust during all my time there, and that wasn't as bad as the fairly frequent drug busts we heard about, down the road at Beenleigh.
I hated it. High school was an ongoing exercise in boredom, frustration, bullying and teaching myself how to learn. All the things I loved - classical music, poetry, Shakespeare - were all born at school, from reading my way through the library, and so forth. But none of it was really encouraged, which is fair enough given that the resources of the school were well and truly stretched and that sort of thing most naturally happens if your parents have educational priorities.
But I think it was a good school. Better than Miami High, where I first started and which had a shifting population, serious drug issues and students who almost seemed to riot sometimes. Shailer Park was fed from a few surrounding schools, including the primary school next door. It had a reasonably stable population, and most students came from families where education was at least something of a value. So, the more serious social issues, prevalent in places like Beenleigh didn't seem to be as obvious. I suspect the core grouping at Shailer Park was larger than those imported from places like Loganholme, and it wouldn't surprise me if that is still the case today.
Shailer Park changed dramatically when the Hyperdome was built in 1989 I think. This is a bigger shopping centre than has any right to exist, but brought better transport and an economic stability to Shailer Park, which was most able to take advantage of the employment and business opportunities. Most people who live at Shailer Park are likely to stay there. I'm not sure that their children would, unless they chose to go to uni at Griffith's Logan campus, which isn't too far away. Certainly as Brisbane house prices rise, places like Shailer Park are likely to become more attractive to young families, as they provide a cheaper alternative to buying a house in a place that isn't too bad. It isn't that far from Daisy Hill and other 'better' suburbs north of it, so it isn't an isolated pocket of middle class suburbia but can define itself with those suburbs and against places like Loganholme and Beenleigh.
So, there you go. All you ever wanted to know about Shailer Park.
(BTW: I am militantly ignoring the rowdy boys and their gleeful machinations to impose structure on my blogging).
Shailer Park, by Wistwaveral, level 61 and 1/4
Shailer Park is on the 'good' side of the highway just south of Daisy Hill and north of Beenleigh, on the outskirts of Brisbane, QLD. Beenleigh is the 'end' of Brisbane, or was when we lived just north of there at Loganholme in the late 1980's. It's generally considered a dodgy place to live, with rampant crime, drugs and general malaise and boasts the end of the Beenleigh train line to the city. Beenleigh was about 7kms away from where we lived at Loganholme, and a long bike ride with several hills. If you wanted fast food or groceries, or wanted to go to the city (or in my case, later, to university), Beenleigh was where you went.
7 kms north was Shailer Park, a completely different place. It's a suburb in the way that Beenleigh is not. More people live there who are interested in building a life for themselves and their families, and who follow the more ordinary middle class drummer, rather than the knell of the crime-welfare vicious circle which was more prevalent in both Beenleigh and in Loganholme. Loganholme didn't have much crime, and the crime it had was second rate, like the guy who got hit in the head by a crowbar while walking down the street. It was a struggling suburb with very little superstructure apart from a road - drainage was an innovation of the early 1990's, and the corner shop was greeted enthusiastically when it finally opened in about 1989. Buses were an excellent invention that had nothing to do with us.
Crossing the highway to go to school was like entering another world. Shailer Park had buses, shops galore, things like gyms and florists, good roads and other such amenities. As schools go, Shailer Park high wasn't too bad. It was trying to connect with the non-Logan schools (and so distance itself from the less reputable Logan schools), and made every effort to give off the signals that it was respectable. We had musicals, sports, science labs (with functioning equipment), and both a year 8 centre and a year 11-12 centre, the years 9-10's being left to fend for themselves. There was only one major drug bust during all my time there, and that wasn't as bad as the fairly frequent drug busts we heard about, down the road at Beenleigh.
I hated it. High school was an ongoing exercise in boredom, frustration, bullying and teaching myself how to learn. All the things I loved - classical music, poetry, Shakespeare - were all born at school, from reading my way through the library, and so forth. But none of it was really encouraged, which is fair enough given that the resources of the school were well and truly stretched and that sort of thing most naturally happens if your parents have educational priorities.
But I think it was a good school. Better than Miami High, where I first started and which had a shifting population, serious drug issues and students who almost seemed to riot sometimes. Shailer Park was fed from a few surrounding schools, including the primary school next door. It had a reasonably stable population, and most students came from families where education was at least something of a value. So, the more serious social issues, prevalent in places like Beenleigh didn't seem to be as obvious. I suspect the core grouping at Shailer Park was larger than those imported from places like Loganholme, and it wouldn't surprise me if that is still the case today.
Shailer Park changed dramatically when the Hyperdome was built in 1989 I think. This is a bigger shopping centre than has any right to exist, but brought better transport and an economic stability to Shailer Park, which was most able to take advantage of the employment and business opportunities. Most people who live at Shailer Park are likely to stay there. I'm not sure that their children would, unless they chose to go to uni at Griffith's Logan campus, which isn't too far away. Certainly as Brisbane house prices rise, places like Shailer Park are likely to become more attractive to young families, as they provide a cheaper alternative to buying a house in a place that isn't too bad. It isn't that far from Daisy Hill and other 'better' suburbs north of it, so it isn't an isolated pocket of middle class suburbia but can define itself with those suburbs and against places like Loganholme and Beenleigh.
So, there you go. All you ever wanted to know about Shailer Park.
Tuesday, 8 May 2007
A Silent Blogger
It has been pointed out to me that my blogs are insufficiently frequent. This is quite true, although I expect this will change about mid-July. Here's the list of things I have to do before then...
1. Write a 10 000 word paper for my master's course due close to the end of June. (On "An historical theological understanding of the interconnection between 'image of God' in humanity and the Son of God, with particular reference to Calvin") This replaces an exam, so I am actually very grateful. So far, I've written 1381 words and am starting to realise that 10 000 words is actually going to happen fairly quickly. I am going to have to be succint, which I am not. It is going to be a lot of work to pull this off.
2. Write a Know Your Bible sets of studies on I, II, III John and submit by the end of May. I've nearly done the first draft. The way they break the studies up is actually quite tricky for John (who likes to write as an interweaving tapestry and doesn't do 'sections' neatly).
3. Write about 1000 words on a 'theology of romance' for Salt. This is written in my head. However, the lovely people at AFES tend to be legalistic when it comes to the medium in which something is produced, and I will have to actually write words on paper for this. It's due 1st June.
4. Have all our boxes ready for shipping overseas by the middle of June. Packing the boxes isn't the tricky thing so much as making decisions. And lamenting repeatedly the cold reality that our books cannot all come with us.
5. Produce our visa applications by about mid-June.
6. Teach a class on the exegesis of I Peter, I John and James for three hours once per fortnight and mark all their assessment.
7. Teach a class, with Levor once per week for the next five weeks on Australian Church History. Levor's BIG term is this term, so I am doing most of the administration for this. We were silly and decided to do this thematically rather than chronologically as well (which actually makes better sense for the students), but that means I have to synthesise all my notes from last time I taught this!
8. Preach on 19th May, evangelistically.
9. Produce a 90 minute seminar on how we are transformed by knowing Jesus for 1st July, which is content rich, interactive and practical.
Hence my lack of blogging. It's just not urgent enough! There is no looming due date. There are no dire consequences if I don't produce blogs. But I will try and improve. If all the blogs are about the 'image of God' in humanity with some obscure reference to the Church and Schools Corporation of the mid 1800's in NSW, don't be too surprised!
1. Write a 10 000 word paper for my master's course due close to the end of June. (On "An historical theological understanding of the interconnection between 'image of God' in humanity and the Son of God, with particular reference to Calvin") This replaces an exam, so I am actually very grateful. So far, I've written 1381 words and am starting to realise that 10 000 words is actually going to happen fairly quickly. I am going to have to be succint, which I am not. It is going to be a lot of work to pull this off.
2. Write a Know Your Bible sets of studies on I, II, III John and submit by the end of May. I've nearly done the first draft. The way they break the studies up is actually quite tricky for John (who likes to write as an interweaving tapestry and doesn't do 'sections' neatly).
3. Write about 1000 words on a 'theology of romance' for Salt. This is written in my head. However, the lovely people at AFES tend to be legalistic when it comes to the medium in which something is produced, and I will have to actually write words on paper for this. It's due 1st June.
4. Have all our boxes ready for shipping overseas by the middle of June. Packing the boxes isn't the tricky thing so much as making decisions. And lamenting repeatedly the cold reality that our books cannot all come with us.
5. Produce our visa applications by about mid-June.
6. Teach a class on the exegesis of I Peter, I John and James for three hours once per fortnight and mark all their assessment.
7. Teach a class, with Levor once per week for the next five weeks on Australian Church History. Levor's BIG term is this term, so I am doing most of the administration for this. We were silly and decided to do this thematically rather than chronologically as well (which actually makes better sense for the students), but that means I have to synthesise all my notes from last time I taught this!
8. Preach on 19th May, evangelistically.
9. Produce a 90 minute seminar on how we are transformed by knowing Jesus for 1st July, which is content rich, interactive and practical.
Hence my lack of blogging. It's just not urgent enough! There is no looming due date. There are no dire consequences if I don't produce blogs. But I will try and improve. If all the blogs are about the 'image of God' in humanity with some obscure reference to the Church and Schools Corporation of the mid 1800's in NSW, don't be too surprised!
Sunday, 29 April 2007
In Appreciation of Lloyd-Jones
Living in Sydney as I do, and daring to confess that I have a great deal of admiration for Lloyd Jones is a bit like confessing that I have engaged in cannibalism (without inhaling, of course), or some equally heinous crime. In other parts of the world (like the reformed circles of Wales, or I am given to understand, Korea), having anything negative to say about the Doctor is far worse than the odd spot of cannibalism. So, I thought I'd jump into the fray with both feet (my own, in case you are wondering), and add my two cents to all the reflections on the good Doctor - Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones.
First, a basic introduction for those of you with no background knowledge. Lloyd-Jones was a Welsh doctor, of the medical persuasion, who left medicine to preach. He wound up preaching in posh old London town, which he did without any discernible compromise, continuing to pray even when bombs were falling. (He was talking to God after all). He preached voluminously, spending 12 years preaching just through Romans. He loved the Puritans and is part of the reason why puritans have been republished through the Banner of Truth publishers (which he was involved in setting up). So, many puritan classics are now cheap and accessible. He longed for revival and really thought it could happen, drinking deeply from his Welsh heritages where revivals were part of the blood of the church.*
He was also incredibly eccentric. He went to the beach in a three piece suit and a bowler hat. And had a bizarre cure for sea-sickness, I seem to remember. He had little sense of humour, yet he was a really good listener, from accounts of people who knew him. I got the impression that he could be a tricky man to live with, being a determined, fairly intense kind of man with a slight sense of the practical.
He seems to have had a sense of purpose and direction that caught people up, and written recollections of him often read as hagiography. I'm pretty sure he would not be amused by them. Most of his preaching was transcribed and comes to us today in written sermon form as 'commentaries' on certain books of the Bible.
I feel I owe him a debt, for several reasons:
1. I used to babysit when I was 17 or so, and I got paid in Lloyd-Jones book. I considered this an excellent currency and still remember reading his commentaries on Ephesians in the train. I loved what he had to say. It was clear and real, and started to shift me from basing my faith on my own pietism and need to choose, to realising that God was bigger than I, and that I lived my life in his hands.
2. He wrote about suffering, and gave me the categories to know that God controls reality even when it changes colour, disintegrates and everything you 'know' is turned inside out. It would have been very hard to live without having that category somewhere in the mess that was inside my head.
3. He really didn't pull punches about sin. So, finding out that actually every single thing I have ever done, and everything I will ever do till the day I die, is full of sin (like fat in a steak), was very bad news. But it was and is believable, and more than that, he didn't see it as a complete defeat. Instead, he pointed us to Jesus and his death, and I learned that Jesus' death was not something to rejoice over in a past tense way, but was something I needed for every minute of every day. My sin wasn't a problem I could ever solve, but Jesus' death was not something I could ever 'use up' either.
4. He didn't bother with illustrations or fancy packaging. I like that in a preacher. Slickness is just unsatisfying in the end. Some people need it, I think, but some people don't, and he so didn't need it. I always felt engaged in serious conversations, rather than watching a collection of parlour tricks.
5. There are three things I still vividly remember reading (I remember where I was even!) and I think they gave me categories that have been particularly useful:
a. 'When people speak badly of you, and even when they say things about you that aren't true, they'll never actually capture how bad you really are'.
Which is cold comfort, but is useful to quell defensiveness.
b. 'If you want a spiritual experience, you'll get one. You might not get a spiritual experience of God, but you'll get a spiritual experience'.
This stopped me in my tracks and (I still remember when my heart started beating again), made me start to change the priorities I had when relating to God.
c. 'As human beings we are much more comfortable speaking about God than speaking about Christ, and we will move away from speaking about Christ to speaking about God'.
I wasn't sure he was right about this (horror!), but I totally get it now. I deliberately talk about Jesus sometimes to people who want to tell me all about their faith. They don't like it at all and go back to talking about 'God'. It's a good check up question for myself as well.
Such a very long post. But this is why I think the Doctor is a dude.
*This was actually accidental, but I left in for Synergy to appreciate, and for Carawen to go 'ew'.
First, a basic introduction for those of you with no background knowledge. Lloyd-Jones was a Welsh doctor, of the medical persuasion, who left medicine to preach. He wound up preaching in posh old London town, which he did without any discernible compromise, continuing to pray even when bombs were falling. (He was talking to God after all). He preached voluminously, spending 12 years preaching just through Romans. He loved the Puritans and is part of the reason why puritans have been republished through the Banner of Truth publishers (which he was involved in setting up). So, many puritan classics are now cheap and accessible. He longed for revival and really thought it could happen, drinking deeply from his Welsh heritages where revivals were part of the blood of the church.*
He was also incredibly eccentric. He went to the beach in a three piece suit and a bowler hat. And had a bizarre cure for sea-sickness, I seem to remember. He had little sense of humour, yet he was a really good listener, from accounts of people who knew him. I got the impression that he could be a tricky man to live with, being a determined, fairly intense kind of man with a slight sense of the practical.
He seems to have had a sense of purpose and direction that caught people up, and written recollections of him often read as hagiography. I'm pretty sure he would not be amused by them. Most of his preaching was transcribed and comes to us today in written sermon form as 'commentaries' on certain books of the Bible.
I feel I owe him a debt, for several reasons:
1. I used to babysit when I was 17 or so, and I got paid in Lloyd-Jones book. I considered this an excellent currency and still remember reading his commentaries on Ephesians in the train. I loved what he had to say. It was clear and real, and started to shift me from basing my faith on my own pietism and need to choose, to realising that God was bigger than I, and that I lived my life in his hands.
2. He wrote about suffering, and gave me the categories to know that God controls reality even when it changes colour, disintegrates and everything you 'know' is turned inside out. It would have been very hard to live without having that category somewhere in the mess that was inside my head.
3. He really didn't pull punches about sin. So, finding out that actually every single thing I have ever done, and everything I will ever do till the day I die, is full of sin (like fat in a steak), was very bad news. But it was and is believable, and more than that, he didn't see it as a complete defeat. Instead, he pointed us to Jesus and his death, and I learned that Jesus' death was not something to rejoice over in a past tense way, but was something I needed for every minute of every day. My sin wasn't a problem I could ever solve, but Jesus' death was not something I could ever 'use up' either.
4. He didn't bother with illustrations or fancy packaging. I like that in a preacher. Slickness is just unsatisfying in the end. Some people need it, I think, but some people don't, and he so didn't need it. I always felt engaged in serious conversations, rather than watching a collection of parlour tricks.
5. There are three things I still vividly remember reading (I remember where I was even!) and I think they gave me categories that have been particularly useful:
a. 'When people speak badly of you, and even when they say things about you that aren't true, they'll never actually capture how bad you really are'.
Which is cold comfort, but is useful to quell defensiveness.
b. 'If you want a spiritual experience, you'll get one. You might not get a spiritual experience of God, but you'll get a spiritual experience'.
This stopped me in my tracks and (I still remember when my heart started beating again), made me start to change the priorities I had when relating to God.
c. 'As human beings we are much more comfortable speaking about God than speaking about Christ, and we will move away from speaking about Christ to speaking about God'.
I wasn't sure he was right about this (horror!), but I totally get it now. I deliberately talk about Jesus sometimes to people who want to tell me all about their faith. They don't like it at all and go back to talking about 'God'. It's a good check up question for myself as well.
Such a very long post. But this is why I think the Doctor is a dude.
*This was actually accidental, but I left in for Synergy to appreciate, and for Carawen to go 'ew'.
Friday, 20 April 2007
I've been Torranced!
I've been reading Torrance's book on Calvin's view of humanity, including the image of God. I've also been reading Barth's Church Dogmatics on humanity.
I started to notice yesterday how much Barth was influenced by Calvin.
This worried me. Torrance was a fervent disciple of Barth. His claims regarding Calvin's theology are substantiated by a dazzling number of mostly one sentence quotations from Calvin's commentaries, sermons and his Institutes. But his account of Calvin's view of humanity is different to every other commentator on Calvin, and my own reading of Calvin simply hasn't picked up some of these elements. But it could be me... and all the other commentators.
Except the things that Torrance claims for Calvin are all present in Barth. In fact, reading the book on Calvin's view of humanity has actually helped me make more sense of Barth.
Thanks Torrance.
I started to notice yesterday how much Barth was influenced by Calvin.
This worried me. Torrance was a fervent disciple of Barth. His claims regarding Calvin's theology are substantiated by a dazzling number of mostly one sentence quotations from Calvin's commentaries, sermons and his Institutes. But his account of Calvin's view of humanity is different to every other commentator on Calvin, and my own reading of Calvin simply hasn't picked up some of these elements. But it could be me... and all the other commentators.
Except the things that Torrance claims for Calvin are all present in Barth. In fact, reading the book on Calvin's view of humanity has actually helped me make more sense of Barth.
Thanks Torrance.
Tuesday, 17 April 2007
FAQ
OK, it seems I have to clear a few things up. So, here goes.
1. The names. What is with the names? We have names, why not use those? Well, yes. I acknowledge that you all have names and that the replacement of a person's name implies a divine authority of some kind, which I (clearly) do not have. But this website is a haven, my friends, a place of refuge from the cruel world, which hassles those of us who play computer games. Here, if you have the good sense to play a computer game in which you have a name and I am aware of this, then I will use this name. Hence, Lynxx is honoured with his avatar's name (as is Carawen).
The rest of you? Well, you can make do with a name I come up with for you. Is it fair? Of course not. But how is it fair, gentle reader, for me to endure the pejorative remarks of those individuals who cannot abide the reality that a Christian woman plays computer games in her spare time? This is particularly difficult to take from people who spend hours watching sport (where they don't even do anything. I, at least, am a skilled leatherworker). So, this blog is a safe haven, where if you play computer games and have therefore an alternate name (of your own choosing), you are honoured and may keep it. The rest of you can fit in with this program in this reality.
2. Leaving the country. Folks, it's looking like it will happen. Despite the passport office demanding new photos of me without my glasses. (Looooonnnng story; best not to ask). Despite the hassle of opening a bank account in the UK here without going to Hong Kong (and yes, best not to ask). Despite Levor having to write a special letter to the visa office explaining that he would like his wife to accompany him to the UK. (So, OK he hasn't written yet, but I'm thinking he probably will, or I'll write it for him and get him to sign it...) And despite, yes, despite all the crazy cows (and people) who reside there; not that we can really claim sanity. The jigsaw is slowly coming together despite these hiccups. But we will miss you all; that is beyond doubt.
3. Levor and his marking. OK. So, I was banking on this anonymity thing. D'oh. It's mostly because it takes about an hour to mark an essay and it is soooooooooooo tiring. To keep himself engaged, he entertains himself by interacting with the essay. And he doesn't usually check who the student numbers are unless he detects unbelievable brilliance. I didn't know there were any students reading this.
4. Lack of blogging, subtlety suggested by Synergy (the first syllable of whose name was chosen for a reason, let the reader understand). It's Barth's fault. I have to read 321 pages and understand them by the end of next week. The reading I am managing. The understanding is a little more difficult. I am also discovering that I have taken on too many things (surprise, surprise), and have to scramble just to get all the urgent things done. And sleep. I've become quite committed to sleep, although I suppose I could demonstrate my dedication to this blogsite and lose sleep over it.
5. And yes, TasAng Photographer-Man (which is a dodgy name, but I'm tired, I'm losing sleep here!), let's catch up before September 19th. That would be cool!
I think I have dealt with all the issues arising from the recent correspondence and I hope everyone feels at peace with their inner selves. I know I do.
Good night, y'all.
1. The names. What is with the names? We have names, why not use those? Well, yes. I acknowledge that you all have names and that the replacement of a person's name implies a divine authority of some kind, which I (clearly) do not have. But this website is a haven, my friends, a place of refuge from the cruel world, which hassles those of us who play computer games. Here, if you have the good sense to play a computer game in which you have a name and I am aware of this, then I will use this name. Hence, Lynxx is honoured with his avatar's name (as is Carawen).
The rest of you? Well, you can make do with a name I come up with for you. Is it fair? Of course not. But how is it fair, gentle reader, for me to endure the pejorative remarks of those individuals who cannot abide the reality that a Christian woman plays computer games in her spare time? This is particularly difficult to take from people who spend hours watching sport (where they don't even do anything. I, at least, am a skilled leatherworker). So, this blog is a safe haven, where if you play computer games and have therefore an alternate name (of your own choosing), you are honoured and may keep it. The rest of you can fit in with this program in this reality.
2. Leaving the country. Folks, it's looking like it will happen. Despite the passport office demanding new photos of me without my glasses. (Looooonnnng story; best not to ask). Despite the hassle of opening a bank account in the UK here without going to Hong Kong (and yes, best not to ask). Despite Levor having to write a special letter to the visa office explaining that he would like his wife to accompany him to the UK. (So, OK he hasn't written yet, but I'm thinking he probably will, or I'll write it for him and get him to sign it...) And despite, yes, despite all the crazy cows (and people) who reside there; not that we can really claim sanity. The jigsaw is slowly coming together despite these hiccups. But we will miss you all; that is beyond doubt.
3. Levor and his marking. OK. So, I was banking on this anonymity thing. D'oh. It's mostly because it takes about an hour to mark an essay and it is soooooooooooo tiring. To keep himself engaged, he entertains himself by interacting with the essay. And he doesn't usually check who the student numbers are unless he detects unbelievable brilliance. I didn't know there were any students reading this.
4. Lack of blogging, subtlety suggested by Synergy (the first syllable of whose name was chosen for a reason, let the reader understand). It's Barth's fault. I have to read 321 pages and understand them by the end of next week. The reading I am managing. The understanding is a little more difficult. I am also discovering that I have taken on too many things (surprise, surprise), and have to scramble just to get all the urgent things done. And sleep. I've become quite committed to sleep, although I suppose I could demonstrate my dedication to this blogsite and lose sleep over it.
5. And yes, TasAng Photographer-Man (which is a dodgy name, but I'm tired, I'm losing sleep here!), let's catch up before September 19th. That would be cool!
I think I have dealt with all the issues arising from the recent correspondence and I hope everyone feels at peace with their inner selves. I know I do.
Good night, y'all.
Tuesday, 10 April 2007
A Ticket to Ride...
Here I sit in Levor's office because we don't have internet access at home at the moment and we both have work to do. Levor's work consists of marking, which means my work* is interrupted by a series of grunts, bursts of laughter, chortles and exclamations. It can be quite amusing from time to time in a black kind of way.
But the news... well the news, folks, is that we have tickets! We have one way economy class tickets for 19th September with Thai Airways to fly to the UK. So, we're really going. Or, at least we'll be a lot poorer if we don't go.
Our friends, Earthmother and Lynxx (and Happy Girl) bought me the lonely planet guide to Great Britain for my birthday. I tried to look at it for a few weeks but it was a bit strange, but I've been avidly reading it since we got our tickets. There are all these cool places to go and see things and this cool museum in Oxford which was put together from the pilferings of Charles I's gardener. (I'm not sure why that appeals to me...)
So, we're going on a big aeroplane. How about that.
*Posting, btw is not 'work', just so we're clear. It's procastination.
But the news... well the news, folks, is that we have tickets! We have one way economy class tickets for 19th September with Thai Airways to fly to the UK. So, we're really going. Or, at least we'll be a lot poorer if we don't go.
Our friends, Earthmother and Lynxx (and Happy Girl) bought me the lonely planet guide to Great Britain for my birthday. I tried to look at it for a few weeks but it was a bit strange, but I've been avidly reading it since we got our tickets. There are all these cool places to go and see things and this cool museum in Oxford which was put together from the pilferings of Charles I's gardener. (I'm not sure why that appeals to me...)
So, we're going on a big aeroplane. How about that.
*Posting, btw is not 'work', just so we're clear. It's procastination.
Sunday, 1 April 2007
Confessions of a 'Groupie'
Yesterday was not a good day, up until the point where Levor preached. The service had run long, so he had to ditch the sermon he'd prepared and instead he did a dramatic reading of the text with some others (that had already been arranged) and then took a couple of questions, and then preached the application part. So, it was a bit odd and only took 10 or so minutes (which for those you who know Levor would know is uncharacteristic. And it was particularly funny because he described what he was about to do as a '10 minute phenomenom'. Indeed)
But it was absolutely fantastic!
I haven't heard a sermon on the trial of Jesus from John as good as that one, even though it was mostly not a sermon. Levor drew out the motif of the glory of Christ in real terms (so it didn't sound ethereal and waffly, but real and concrete and... glorious, actually). He covered the authority of Jesus and his actions of love for those around him from the arrest through the trial, without being sentimental.
In fact, the effect was similar to reading the Narnia series - where you're left feeling afterwards as though you've encountered someone you don't ever want to leave and won't be whole without being with them. Most preaching from the Gospels doesn't leave you with that sense, though I'm beginning to think that it should, particularly if preaching from John where I believe we are meant to want to know Jesus and miss not being with him when we leave the book. (I think we should be able to top the Narnia series because we aren't preaching about a lion in a mythical country.) I'd had this thought independent of Levor's sermon last night, but when I was listening to it I thought, "This is it! This is Narnia preaching!"
So, I'm a Levor groupie. He's sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo cool. *scream*
But it was absolutely fantastic!
I haven't heard a sermon on the trial of Jesus from John as good as that one, even though it was mostly not a sermon. Levor drew out the motif of the glory of Christ in real terms (so it didn't sound ethereal and waffly, but real and concrete and... glorious, actually). He covered the authority of Jesus and his actions of love for those around him from the arrest through the trial, without being sentimental.
In fact, the effect was similar to reading the Narnia series - where you're left feeling afterwards as though you've encountered someone you don't ever want to leave and won't be whole without being with them. Most preaching from the Gospels doesn't leave you with that sense, though I'm beginning to think that it should, particularly if preaching from John where I believe we are meant to want to know Jesus and miss not being with him when we leave the book. (I think we should be able to top the Narnia series because we aren't preaching about a lion in a mythical country.) I'd had this thought independent of Levor's sermon last night, but when I was listening to it I thought, "This is it! This is Narnia preaching!"
So, I'm a Levor groupie. He's sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo cool. *scream*
Friday, 30 March 2007
Rewards... small and great
I had a great time with my exegesis class this morning. We're studying I John, I Peter and James together and I'm trying to teach them how to work with a text exegetically. It's quite a challenge because the class includes women who have only got a year 7 or 8 education through to university educated women, and from those who work in pastoral ministry through to women who haven't really thought about ministry at all. So, not only do I have to be incredibly accessible (while still being challenging enough for those who are totally on-board), but I also have to work at applying different things in different ways, so that everyone feels the relevance of what we are studying.
We're half way through the course now and they handed in their first piece of assessment today, which they've all done well in from what I can see so far. So, I'm feeling good about the course, which I often don't because the lectures are three hours long and by the end of them everyone is exhausted.
But today was fun. They are really getting the hang of finding the main point of the passage in the passage and have started to be comfortable with me asking them to argue their case (rather than wait for me to produce the 'right answer'). And in the process I get to challenge their thinking more, which means that better learning takes place.
Today we were looking at I Peter 5:1-4, and in verse 4 it talks of the 'crown of glory' being a reward for faithful service. One of the women was so uncomfortable with this and thought that really the relationship with God was sufficient. We shouldn't need any other reward or indeed look for any other reward. So, I had the privilege of upsetting her world view by asking her what this verse was doing here and whether Jesus had any reward in mind when he suffered and died for our sins. (And when she didn't think so, upsetting her even further by quoting the passage which speaks of Jesus' attention to the 'joy set before him' in going to the cross. One of the other women was scandalised that such a passage could be in the Bible and strongly disagreed with it!) She's going to take it up with her minister and pastoral team, she told me afterwards....
I'll miss teaching when we go to Oxford. It takes so much energy but it is worthwhile in ways I never expect.
We're half way through the course now and they handed in their first piece of assessment today, which they've all done well in from what I can see so far. So, I'm feeling good about the course, which I often don't because the lectures are three hours long and by the end of them everyone is exhausted.
But today was fun. They are really getting the hang of finding the main point of the passage in the passage and have started to be comfortable with me asking them to argue their case (rather than wait for me to produce the 'right answer'). And in the process I get to challenge their thinking more, which means that better learning takes place.
Today we were looking at I Peter 5:1-4, and in verse 4 it talks of the 'crown of glory' being a reward for faithful service. One of the women was so uncomfortable with this and thought that really the relationship with God was sufficient. We shouldn't need any other reward or indeed look for any other reward. So, I had the privilege of upsetting her world view by asking her what this verse was doing here and whether Jesus had any reward in mind when he suffered and died for our sins. (And when she didn't think so, upsetting her even further by quoting the passage which speaks of Jesus' attention to the 'joy set before him' in going to the cross. One of the other women was scandalised that such a passage could be in the Bible and strongly disagreed with it!) She's going to take it up with her minister and pastoral team, she told me afterwards....
I'll miss teaching when we go to Oxford. It takes so much energy but it is worthwhile in ways I never expect.
Wednesday, 28 March 2007
List of Things I Am Grateful For...
It is 10am. There are some things which have gone well in my morning. It is important to notice and record them (in case I die before the end of the day). Not that I'm feeling paranoid about today or anything.
Things I am Grateful for:
1. That when I went out to have a blood test this morning, and the nurse taking the blood seemed offended that I had bruises on the inside of my arms (from previous blood tests), and lectured me on this (because clearly it was my fault) - that I didn't take it personally. It's always hard to come back from that if you take it personally and hard to prevent yourself from taking it personally. Particularly in the early pre-coffee part of the morning.
2. That I didn't try to implement all the confusing instructions provided by the nurse about bruising, and came to the realisation fairly quickly that one more bruise wasn't really going to matter that much. If I'd tried to do everything she'd said similtaneously it could have been interesting.
3. That I have a squashy parcel to post. So, when I went to the post office to post a parcel and bought a package for the parcel, after paying for it and the postage, the package promptly shrunk. I have no idea how I'm going to squish the parcel into the package but it is squishy. That is a good thing. If it were structurally incapable of squishy-ness I'd have to go buy another package.
4. That though the post office man couldn't seem to move his lips and had a limited vocabularly, it still was possible to communicate with him, even very slowly. And I wasn't rude to him, even though I really really wanted to be.
5. That it seems rather easy (despite communication issues) to make a passport application appointment, because I am going to need to change this appointment.
6. That I have been allowed to live with Levor as his wife although the certificate proving this is deficient, having been issued by the man who married us and was there on the day we were married, rather than the administrative gatekeepers of QLD, who require as proof of our marriage, my drivers license and passport. Obviously.
7. That although I need to acquire a certificate of marriage to have this passport application appointment, the QLD Department of Births, Deaths and Marriages hasn't closed down. This was my fear while I waited on the phone this morning on hold for 17 minutes while the recording told me over and over again of the Department's opening hours in a crackly voice. I think it's the sheer efficiency of QLD that I miss the most now that I live south of the border.
8. That by paying double the amount of money for this piece of paper I can receive it in a quarter of the time I would normally need to wait, further expiditing the passport application process.
9. That when I was carrying my warm, creamy coffee that I was so looking forward to drinking, and I dropped it, I didn't scald myself and I didn't curse the people who are incapable of buying lids which fit the top of plastic cups properly.
10. That there were two mouthfuls left in the cup after I dropped it and that I had the foresight to drink these mouthfuls immediately in the car park before taking another step.
11. That when I went to the bins to throw the cup out only to find that all the bins were out, that there was not a dead body near where the bins are kept (like there was last August). I wasn't really in the zone to find a dead body this morning.
12. That there was no death or structural damage caused by me this morning. Not to be taken for granted.
Things I am Grateful for:
1. That when I went out to have a blood test this morning, and the nurse taking the blood seemed offended that I had bruises on the inside of my arms (from previous blood tests), and lectured me on this (because clearly it was my fault) - that I didn't take it personally. It's always hard to come back from that if you take it personally and hard to prevent yourself from taking it personally. Particularly in the early pre-coffee part of the morning.
2. That I didn't try to implement all the confusing instructions provided by the nurse about bruising, and came to the realisation fairly quickly that one more bruise wasn't really going to matter that much. If I'd tried to do everything she'd said similtaneously it could have been interesting.
3. That I have a squashy parcel to post. So, when I went to the post office to post a parcel and bought a package for the parcel, after paying for it and the postage, the package promptly shrunk. I have no idea how I'm going to squish the parcel into the package but it is squishy. That is a good thing. If it were structurally incapable of squishy-ness I'd have to go buy another package.
4. That though the post office man couldn't seem to move his lips and had a limited vocabularly, it still was possible to communicate with him, even very slowly. And I wasn't rude to him, even though I really really wanted to be.
5. That it seems rather easy (despite communication issues) to make a passport application appointment, because I am going to need to change this appointment.
6. That I have been allowed to live with Levor as his wife although the certificate proving this is deficient, having been issued by the man who married us and was there on the day we were married, rather than the administrative gatekeepers of QLD, who require as proof of our marriage, my drivers license and passport. Obviously.
7. That although I need to acquire a certificate of marriage to have this passport application appointment, the QLD Department of Births, Deaths and Marriages hasn't closed down. This was my fear while I waited on the phone this morning on hold for 17 minutes while the recording told me over and over again of the Department's opening hours in a crackly voice. I think it's the sheer efficiency of QLD that I miss the most now that I live south of the border.
8. That by paying double the amount of money for this piece of paper I can receive it in a quarter of the time I would normally need to wait, further expiditing the passport application process.
9. That when I was carrying my warm, creamy coffee that I was so looking forward to drinking, and I dropped it, I didn't scald myself and I didn't curse the people who are incapable of buying lids which fit the top of plastic cups properly.
10. That there were two mouthfuls left in the cup after I dropped it and that I had the foresight to drink these mouthfuls immediately in the car park before taking another step.
11. That when I went to the bins to throw the cup out only to find that all the bins were out, that there was not a dead body near where the bins are kept (like there was last August). I wasn't really in the zone to find a dead body this morning.
12. That there was no death or structural damage caused by me this morning. Not to be taken for granted.
Tuesday, 27 March 2007
On Being Weak
There is a saying, originating Levor tells me, from Nietzsche. It goes: "That which does not kill us makes us stronger". It took me years of using this saying and applying it to life to work out that it is wrong. Not only is it wrong, it presents a view of the world which is destructive.
It's wrong because some things are really hard and actually make us weak. When we lose people who give us strength and courage and remind us of who we are, we are made weaker. Merely surviving the loss does not make us stronger. When we go through something really hard, it can make us stronger in some ways and leave us shaken and weak in others. Life is not so simple that everything that hurts us (but doesn't kill us) puts wind in our sails in some way.
And the view of the world it presents is upside down. We don't have value because we are strong. If we are rendered weak by the circumstances in our lives, we aren't less as people. We might feel hollowed out, and we might be able to do less, but life is not about our productivity or our independence. Life is about our relationships and what we give to each other, and we don't need to be strong to love those around us and do good to them.
Nietzsche I believe died of syphilis. Prior to his demise his sister made money from 'showing him' to others - her raving, pitiful brother, who was no stronger from having met a disease which did ultimately kill him. Ironic for a man who despised pity as a weakness.
And those of us who know Jesus, know his goodness is demonstrated by his pity for those of us who are weak and pitiful: that is one of the things we love about him. Not that he makes us strong but lends us his strength and encourages us in our weakness, showing us what love looks like so we can love those around us like this and not despise their weakness. It is a great freedom to be able to confess our weakness and yet have meaning and strength outside of ourselves.
It's wrong because some things are really hard and actually make us weak. When we lose people who give us strength and courage and remind us of who we are, we are made weaker. Merely surviving the loss does not make us stronger. When we go through something really hard, it can make us stronger in some ways and leave us shaken and weak in others. Life is not so simple that everything that hurts us (but doesn't kill us) puts wind in our sails in some way.
And the view of the world it presents is upside down. We don't have value because we are strong. If we are rendered weak by the circumstances in our lives, we aren't less as people. We might feel hollowed out, and we might be able to do less, but life is not about our productivity or our independence. Life is about our relationships and what we give to each other, and we don't need to be strong to love those around us and do good to them.
Nietzsche I believe died of syphilis. Prior to his demise his sister made money from 'showing him' to others - her raving, pitiful brother, who was no stronger from having met a disease which did ultimately kill him. Ironic for a man who despised pity as a weakness.
And those of us who know Jesus, know his goodness is demonstrated by his pity for those of us who are weak and pitiful: that is one of the things we love about him. Not that he makes us strong but lends us his strength and encourages us in our weakness, showing us what love looks like so we can love those around us like this and not despise their weakness. It is a great freedom to be able to confess our weakness and yet have meaning and strength outside of ourselves.
Tuesday, 20 March 2007
More Little People
Here are more of my niece and nephews, being hyperactive. (The niece is growing into the super-energetic thing more slowly...)
Sunday, 18 March 2007
A List
A list means that a blog is the genuine article. Not having a list on this blog has caused hours of introspection and anxiety for this little blog, and as an act of kindness, I its benevolent patron will now provide a list to soothe the sensitive feelings of the blog.
The List
Top Five Things I Like About Church
1. In some strange way I wind up caring about a bunch of people some of whom I really like, but some of whom really annoy me. And yet it really matters to me how they are and how well they are going. I like that because it is certainly not something I could do myself... definitely God at work!
2. Music. I never really sing outside of church and even though I don't always really like the music and sometimes even think it's a bit dreary, I enjoy singing songs about Jesus with other people.
3. Liturgy. I like praying the same prayers each week and out aloud with a group of people. The theology behind the liturgy is first-rate and therefore though they are prayed each week, the prayers are enriching and good to pray. The pattern of thanksgiving and confession, the creeds and the final prayer commending ourselves to God give us all a framework to think about God and respond to him, doing things we might not normally do during the week (even though we should).
4. Good sermons. I've heard a lot of good sermons, which have been well preached and changed me, even when I haven't known it or noticed it particularly. A lot of these have been preached by Levor, who is, it must be said, a great preacher. I could be biased on that point, but I really miss it now that he hardly ever preaches.
5. Bible reading. This can be done badly of course, but when it is done well it really rocks. Especially when we read more passages than we need for just the sermon. It's good to have Bible readings which intersect with what I might be reading or be completely different, and reading them aloud slows us down so we really pay attention.
Top Five Things I Hate About Church
1. Silly petty people. There aren't many but it never fails to amaze me how some people can be so nasty over such meaningless things. I guess you find them everywhere, not just church but it is always especially disappointing to find them at church because we're supposed to be a group of people learning how to love each other. And I walk away from encounters with these kinds of people wondering if they are even interested in trying to learn to love other people.
2. Poorly exegeted, badly delivered, shoddily applied, boring sermons. This is hard because often I get quite angry and spend the time I should be listening deciding how I would do the sermon better. Sometimes a great deal better. The challenge is to still listen and sit under the word rather than stand above it and rearrange it. Because it is still a sermon and I still am responsible to listen and let the word of God sink deeply into my heart. I guess it's one of those tricky temptations to think that because I could preach it better I don't need to listen to it. It's hard to remember that it doesn't work like that. (And its futile to pretend that I couldn't preach it better; there is probably pride there, yeah, but hey, it's true and I'm not going to pretend that I couldn't preach better sermons than some I've heard.)
3. Service leaders who think they are actually stand up comics. They aren't. They should connect with their inner comedian elsewhere.
4. Too much ball-dropping. Some informality is fine. When there is mistake after mistake after mistake, it just gets hard to keep engaging. And when so many of the mistakes could be easily prevented, it's hard to be patient because there is a sense that the people responsible for the mistakes haven't really cared.
5. Technology that doesn't work. I know, computers make it all easier and shinier. And when they don't work, it's worse than using an OHP.
There we have it. Not one list but two, and on the one post! My little blog can now feel actualised.
The List
Top Five Things I Like About Church
1. In some strange way I wind up caring about a bunch of people some of whom I really like, but some of whom really annoy me. And yet it really matters to me how they are and how well they are going. I like that because it is certainly not something I could do myself... definitely God at work!
2. Music. I never really sing outside of church and even though I don't always really like the music and sometimes even think it's a bit dreary, I enjoy singing songs about Jesus with other people.
3. Liturgy. I like praying the same prayers each week and out aloud with a group of people. The theology behind the liturgy is first-rate and therefore though they are prayed each week, the prayers are enriching and good to pray. The pattern of thanksgiving and confession, the creeds and the final prayer commending ourselves to God give us all a framework to think about God and respond to him, doing things we might not normally do during the week (even though we should).
4. Good sermons. I've heard a lot of good sermons, which have been well preached and changed me, even when I haven't known it or noticed it particularly. A lot of these have been preached by Levor, who is, it must be said, a great preacher. I could be biased on that point, but I really miss it now that he hardly ever preaches.
5. Bible reading. This can be done badly of course, but when it is done well it really rocks. Especially when we read more passages than we need for just the sermon. It's good to have Bible readings which intersect with what I might be reading or be completely different, and reading them aloud slows us down so we really pay attention.
Top Five Things I Hate About Church
1. Silly petty people. There aren't many but it never fails to amaze me how some people can be so nasty over such meaningless things. I guess you find them everywhere, not just church but it is always especially disappointing to find them at church because we're supposed to be a group of people learning how to love each other. And I walk away from encounters with these kinds of people wondering if they are even interested in trying to learn to love other people.
2. Poorly exegeted, badly delivered, shoddily applied, boring sermons. This is hard because often I get quite angry and spend the time I should be listening deciding how I would do the sermon better. Sometimes a great deal better. The challenge is to still listen and sit under the word rather than stand above it and rearrange it. Because it is still a sermon and I still am responsible to listen and let the word of God sink deeply into my heart. I guess it's one of those tricky temptations to think that because I could preach it better I don't need to listen to it. It's hard to remember that it doesn't work like that. (And its futile to pretend that I couldn't preach it better; there is probably pride there, yeah, but hey, it's true and I'm not going to pretend that I couldn't preach better sermons than some I've heard.)
3. Service leaders who think they are actually stand up comics. They aren't. They should connect with their inner comedian elsewhere.
4. Too much ball-dropping. Some informality is fine. When there is mistake after mistake after mistake, it just gets hard to keep engaging. And when so many of the mistakes could be easily prevented, it's hard to be patient because there is a sense that the people responsible for the mistakes haven't really cared.
5. Technology that doesn't work. I know, computers make it all easier and shinier. And when they don't work, it's worse than using an OHP.
There we have it. Not one list but two, and on the one post! My little blog can now feel actualised.
Thursday, 15 March 2007
Now we are 12!
12 years goes very quickly and it turns out that on the 4th March, Levor and I had been married for 12 years. Our wedding anniversaries are pretty much always a disaster because one of us gets sick or something, so we know not to try celebrating on the actual date. True to form, I was sick on the 4th, so we celebrated last Sunday and had a most excellent day.
We went to Bundeena and had a picnic on the beach, and then climbed up through the bush to the cliffs which overlook the ocean. And there we sat and watched the waves crash and the wind whip the water and toss the boats. It was good.
Then we went home and rehydrated (it was hot!), and walked over to the park near us where the Sydney Symphony Orchestra was playing for free. It was so hot they had to start an hour late (to preserve the expensive violins from the heat, apparently). We were worried it would be trashy classical music, but it was robust stuff (including the Lark's Ascension by Williams) and they played really well. We sat on the grass and shared cheese and port as the sun set and the air cooled. The ants were pretty happy about the cheese as well, so it was good that we could provide added protein for their diet at the same time.
It's a good surprise to be married for this long. The stats said we'd only make 4 years, so to get this far is humbling and makes me very grateful. And we've lived 2/3rds of our married life in Sydney, which is unexpected. And given we're in our early thirties, we've been married about 1/3rd of our lives, so I expect we are now completely different people to when we were married, having influenced each other for that long. Marriage is such a big thing, in this regard - you really hand yourself over to someone and risk all your emotional space for them, and take on their hurts and triumphs and sorrows and you can't remember where you stop and they start sometimes. I think if I'd realised how big it was 12 years ago I would have been too scared to say 'I do'.
But it still feels like no time at all! So, I'm glad that being married is for a lifetime because even a bit over a decade doesn't feel like long enough. Or maybe I'm just sentimental about Levor, whose company is so enjoyable and who is, on some days the only sane person in the world.
We went to Bundeena and had a picnic on the beach, and then climbed up through the bush to the cliffs which overlook the ocean. And there we sat and watched the waves crash and the wind whip the water and toss the boats. It was good.
Then we went home and rehydrated (it was hot!), and walked over to the park near us where the Sydney Symphony Orchestra was playing for free. It was so hot they had to start an hour late (to preserve the expensive violins from the heat, apparently). We were worried it would be trashy classical music, but it was robust stuff (including the Lark's Ascension by Williams) and they played really well. We sat on the grass and shared cheese and port as the sun set and the air cooled. The ants were pretty happy about the cheese as well, so it was good that we could provide added protein for their diet at the same time.
It's a good surprise to be married for this long. The stats said we'd only make 4 years, so to get this far is humbling and makes me very grateful. And we've lived 2/3rds of our married life in Sydney, which is unexpected. And given we're in our early thirties, we've been married about 1/3rd of our lives, so I expect we are now completely different people to when we were married, having influenced each other for that long. Marriage is such a big thing, in this regard - you really hand yourself over to someone and risk all your emotional space for them, and take on their hurts and triumphs and sorrows and you can't remember where you stop and they start sometimes. I think if I'd realised how big it was 12 years ago I would have been too scared to say 'I do'.
But it still feels like no time at all! So, I'm glad that being married is for a lifetime because even a bit over a decade doesn't feel like long enough. Or maybe I'm just sentimental about Levor, whose company is so enjoyable and who is, on some days the only sane person in the world.
Tuesday, 6 March 2007
Little people
I thought it was time to put some photos of my nephews up here. They like pulling faces and are very talented at this. It seems a shame to waste this talent, so here it is..
Wednesday, 28 February 2007
Beauty of holiness...
I discovered something recently while reading Ezekiel.
I got to the bit where God is explaining what is holy (chapter 46). He goes through everything he's given Israel and says, 'This bit is mine, this is mine...' about land, people, etc. A bit like a bridal register I suppose, except that God owns already what he is saying is his.
The thing is though, God can't get through the chapter before he's already giving it away. It's not as everything he is claiming is just going to sit there unused while people go without. God takes some land, and then immediately gives it to his priests. He takes food, but gives that to his priests. And so on.
There are a whole raft of reasons why this is sociologically a good plan: priests less likely to become exploitative if they are provided for, priests less likely to depend on rich patrons and so become their mouthpiece, and so on and so forth. But this doesn't detract from God's generosity, even as it highlights his wisdom.
This has implications for us. We are supposed to be holy as he is holy (I Peter 1), and this means we belong to God and our first allegiance is to Jesus in all things. But becoming holy doesn't mean that we become distant from the people around us. In fact, as we become holy, we become better at and more willing to love others. So God imprints us with his brand, as his property, and that is then seen in our losing ourselves in the great task of loving others.
Ownership of things and people is an aspect of God's holiness. But it's not exactly capitalism, because God's way of owning things is to promptly shower gifts on any and everyone. God's way of 'doing holiness' isn't insufferable self-righteous smugness.
God makes holiness look beautiful.
I got to the bit where God is explaining what is holy (chapter 46). He goes through everything he's given Israel and says, 'This bit is mine, this is mine...' about land, people, etc. A bit like a bridal register I suppose, except that God owns already what he is saying is his.
The thing is though, God can't get through the chapter before he's already giving it away. It's not as everything he is claiming is just going to sit there unused while people go without. God takes some land, and then immediately gives it to his priests. He takes food, but gives that to his priests. And so on.
There are a whole raft of reasons why this is sociologically a good plan: priests less likely to become exploitative if they are provided for, priests less likely to depend on rich patrons and so become their mouthpiece, and so on and so forth. But this doesn't detract from God's generosity, even as it highlights his wisdom.
This has implications for us. We are supposed to be holy as he is holy (I Peter 1), and this means we belong to God and our first allegiance is to Jesus in all things. But becoming holy doesn't mean that we become distant from the people around us. In fact, as we become holy, we become better at and more willing to love others. So God imprints us with his brand, as his property, and that is then seen in our losing ourselves in the great task of loving others.
Ownership of things and people is an aspect of God's holiness. But it's not exactly capitalism, because God's way of owning things is to promptly shower gifts on any and everyone. God's way of 'doing holiness' isn't insufferable self-righteous smugness.
God makes holiness look beautiful.
Tuesday, 27 February 2007
Jindabyne
Jindabyne is the place of many thunderstorms. We were there last week for a holiday and we got a thunderstorm (or two!) every single day. 
Lots of omninous thunder, stark flashes of lightning and the marvellous sound and smell of rain - every day. We stayed at a friend's house with views like this... 
We did walks around the lake and I dreamt of wind-blown galleons in full flight.
I played lots of Civilisation IV and indulged my fantasy of taking over the world; Levor played lots of Galactic Civilisations and indulged his fantasy of taking over the universe. There were many glorious victories.
And I ate chocolate every single day. (I only eat chocolate on Sundays). It was an excellent week.
Now we're back in reality. We aren't in control of our own world. There is no lake outside our window. And it's four whole days till I can eat chocolate again.
Lots of omninous thunder, stark flashes of lightning and the marvellous sound and smell of rain - every day. We stayed at a friend's house with views like this... 
We did walks around the lake and I dreamt of wind-blown galleons in full flight.
I played lots of Civilisation IV and indulged my fantasy of taking over the world; Levor played lots of Galactic Civilisations and indulged his fantasy of taking over the universe. There were many glorious victories.
And I ate chocolate every single day. (I only eat chocolate on Sundays). It was an excellent week.
Now we're back in reality. We aren't in control of our own world. There is no lake outside our window. And it's four whole days till I can eat chocolate again.
Monday, 5 February 2007
Juxtaposition
On Saturday we went to an ordination ceremony and watched while men and women in fancy dress were made deacons. It was stirring and good to see so many making promises to serve God and his church and to hold out the Gospel to all, even the 'indifferent'. It was in the cathedral, there was fabulous singing and we saw heaps of people we know and don't get to see much. It was great to see the Abp doing such good work - so many more people have come forward for ordination since he's been at the helm. And he welcomed all the families so graciously, and used the liturgy the way it should be used (IMHO - liturgy was made for man and not man for liturgy).
And then we went to church and saw what happens when those promises are broken. And we went to small church and saw what happens when those promises are broken. This is a problem which we have only started to deal with. There are so many contexts in which this situation has brought the Gospel to shame. And so many people are hurting. It was horrible.
At both services - at church and at the ordination service - the sermon was from 2 Corinthians about how ministers of the gospel are jars of clay. At the ordination service it was a reality check: these bright, beaming people are not perfect and have faults which will be all too obvious. But this will not stop the spread of the gospel, because God has set it up like that. At church, it was a message of comfort, not whitewashing what was happening, but pointing out that the bad choices of some won't destroy the gospel and that we all have this capacity: to choose evil and dishonour Jesus.
A very big day of celebration and grief. And a day to reflect on the unstoppable purposes of God in his Son.
And then we went to church and saw what happens when those promises are broken. And we went to small church and saw what happens when those promises are broken. This is a problem which we have only started to deal with. There are so many contexts in which this situation has brought the Gospel to shame. And so many people are hurting. It was horrible.
At both services - at church and at the ordination service - the sermon was from 2 Corinthians about how ministers of the gospel are jars of clay. At the ordination service it was a reality check: these bright, beaming people are not perfect and have faults which will be all too obvious. But this will not stop the spread of the gospel, because God has set it up like that. At church, it was a message of comfort, not whitewashing what was happening, but pointing out that the bad choices of some won't destroy the gospel and that we all have this capacity: to choose evil and dishonour Jesus.
A very big day of celebration and grief. And a day to reflect on the unstoppable purposes of God in his Son.
Friday, 2 February 2007
Oxford - a great place to move cattle across a river
And, if all goes well, we're going there in a few months for three years, so that Levor can take his brain out for a good hard gallop, which will make him even smarter! I am less excited than trepidatious at this stage. There are many, many things which can go wrong! But I decided that I should list the things I know about Oxford. So, here goes:
From Inspector Morse:
1. Oxford is dangerous. It is the place of many murders. (Tho' not nearly so many as Midsomer)
2. All heads of Colleges in Oxford are either murderers or are up to something as serious as murder. They are not to be trusted.
3. Only young, female, good looking clergy are to be trusted in Oxford. The rest are either murders or seriously unhinged.
4. Any Oxford woman who is attractive to Inspector Morse has committed a felony of some sort.
5. There are a lot of pubs in Oxford, frequented by policemen. Policemen in Oxford cannot think without beer.
From Terry Pratchett (his 'Unseen University' in the Discworld series)
1. Food is the basic raison d'etre of Oxford, and falling asleep in one's pudding is a glorious moment.
2. Everything requires a ceremony. The best events are accompanied by ceremonies so ancient and so meaningless that no-one has a clue what is happening or why.
3. The most visible people are the most important, and demand to be treated with respect.
4. Achievement and learning is not encouraged; pomp and ceremony, and due regard for the honour of the university and its respected leaders is far more important.
5. Women are an interesting species not unknown to the university, but certainly not a part of its important and visible life. However without women the laundry simply would not get done.
6. There is no logic to this world. If you don't know what is going on or you don't make the appropriate response, you are clearly not worthy to be here and need to go elsewhere; to help with the laundry perhaps.
Maybe this year we'll get there. It will be like Alice falling down the rabbit hole into a whole 'nother world.
From Inspector Morse:
1. Oxford is dangerous. It is the place of many murders. (Tho' not nearly so many as Midsomer)
2. All heads of Colleges in Oxford are either murderers or are up to something as serious as murder. They are not to be trusted.
3. Only young, female, good looking clergy are to be trusted in Oxford. The rest are either murders or seriously unhinged.
4. Any Oxford woman who is attractive to Inspector Morse has committed a felony of some sort.
5. There are a lot of pubs in Oxford, frequented by policemen. Policemen in Oxford cannot think without beer.
From Terry Pratchett (his 'Unseen University' in the Discworld series)
1. Food is the basic raison d'etre of Oxford, and falling asleep in one's pudding is a glorious moment.
2. Everything requires a ceremony. The best events are accompanied by ceremonies so ancient and so meaningless that no-one has a clue what is happening or why.
3. The most visible people are the most important, and demand to be treated with respect.
4. Achievement and learning is not encouraged; pomp and ceremony, and due regard for the honour of the university and its respected leaders is far more important.
5. Women are an interesting species not unknown to the university, but certainly not a part of its important and visible life. However without women the laundry simply would not get done.
6. There is no logic to this world. If you don't know what is going on or you don't make the appropriate response, you are clearly not worthy to be here and need to go elsewhere; to help with the laundry perhaps.
Maybe this year we'll get there. It will be like Alice falling down the rabbit hole into a whole 'nother world.
Monday, 29 January 2007
Garage Hymnal - A Review
OK, I admit that buying this album was an extravagance. But it was so totally worth it that any momentary repentance I might have had, has pretty much disappeared.
I really like this album.
One of the reasons I like it is that it doesn't 'sound' like Christian music. A lot of Christian music sounds kind of sentimental or soppy or So Very Meaningful, and while some of that is OK, I really don't go for it. So, having Christian music where the lyrics are the real difference to secular music, so you can enjoy them and the music simultaneously, is seriously a good thing. The style, for those who care, is probably slightly alternative (think Sarah McLaughlin, Dandy Warhols or whatever they're called, kind of thing).
It's not all like that - some of the tracks definitely have more of a Christian music feel (especially the 'group sings', I think) but this just shows that the sound changes a bit in the album and it isn't the same all the way through. They mix it up a bit with having guys vocalise sometimes and girls at other times (and different singers within that). I like that!
The lyrics aren't trying to be more than they are. They aren't the best ever songs written, but they are songs which mean something to the people singing them, and they aren't the cheap 'dial-a-lyric' stuff you get with some (especially pop) songs. Having said that, there are a few forced rhymes, which is always, well, trying. But in some Christian music the lyrics really don't make sense. They're fun to sing or whatever, but if you had to explain what they were saying, you'd probably find yourself saying "It's the vibe of the thing" and such. Whereas I don't mind having these songs stuck in my head.
I saw them perform at CMS Summer School, and have to say that they aren't primadonnas. Which is probably why I was tempted to buy the album. I respect musicians for their talent and expertise, but eschew the Romantic Ideal of the artist as a kind of demigod. These guys were genuinely Christian artists in that sense; they were there to serve not to be served, and their presence was the all the more powerful for that.
So, Garage Hymnal? Totally rocks!
I really like this album.
One of the reasons I like it is that it doesn't 'sound' like Christian music. A lot of Christian music sounds kind of sentimental or soppy or So Very Meaningful, and while some of that is OK, I really don't go for it. So, having Christian music where the lyrics are the real difference to secular music, so you can enjoy them and the music simultaneously, is seriously a good thing. The style, for those who care, is probably slightly alternative (think Sarah McLaughlin, Dandy Warhols or whatever they're called, kind of thing).
It's not all like that - some of the tracks definitely have more of a Christian music feel (especially the 'group sings', I think) but this just shows that the sound changes a bit in the album and it isn't the same all the way through. They mix it up a bit with having guys vocalise sometimes and girls at other times (and different singers within that). I like that!
The lyrics aren't trying to be more than they are. They aren't the best ever songs written, but they are songs which mean something to the people singing them, and they aren't the cheap 'dial-a-lyric' stuff you get with some (especially pop) songs. Having said that, there are a few forced rhymes, which is always, well, trying. But in some Christian music the lyrics really don't make sense. They're fun to sing or whatever, but if you had to explain what they were saying, you'd probably find yourself saying "It's the vibe of the thing" and such. Whereas I don't mind having these songs stuck in my head.
I saw them perform at CMS Summer School, and have to say that they aren't primadonnas. Which is probably why I was tempted to buy the album. I respect musicians for their talent and expertise, but eschew the Romantic Ideal of the artist as a kind of demigod. These guys were genuinely Christian artists in that sense; they were there to serve not to be served, and their presence was the all the more powerful for that.
So, Garage Hymnal? Totally rocks!
Saturday, 27 January 2007
Sin and Temptation
I read this book (Sin and Temptation) by John Owen, a puritan when I was about 19. When I applied to study theology, they asked me what my top 5 most influential books were, and that was well up there on the list.
This week I've been thinking a lot about sin and temptation, and what it means to be (as Luther put it) 'always a sinner and always a saint' at the same time. And I've been wading through the carnage of other peoples' sins, realising from that how damaging sin is, even my own, often excused sin.
Not a cheery week.
But I keep remembering stuff I discovered all those years ago while reading that book: That you don't trust yourself, and specifically you learn yourself and your sinfulness well enough to know when to definitely not trust yourself. That you ask God to teach you yourself because your own heart is going to lie to you and pretend that things are a whole lot better than they actually are. That you work out how you get to a big crisis point of temptation - what does the path look like for you? What are the micro-choices on the path? That when you've done this hard thinking and praying, you learn to put alarm bells at various points for yourself. That you learn to be almost savage with yourself on certain issues, because you've seen something of your own wickedness (though - and I always liked this bit - God is so kind that he doesn't let you see the full extent of your own wickedness).
And you realise that there really are tendencies within you that are so bad they need to be dealt with that harshly.
I am a bad person.
I am not the good person I wish others to see.
I am a sinner, and a sinner is a walking timebomb, always either just finished or on the verge of creating pain for myself or others. Yes, in Christ I am made holy, and by his grace that work is not my own labour, but I am called on to co-operate with his Spirit as he works in me towards a goal which stands outside of this world.
But you do all this knowing that in the here and now you'll fail, and that the grace of God in Christ is utterly sufficient for each and every failure. And you know that in Christ, you are being transformed into this 'saint', this person who despite this rotten sinfulness is able to demonstrate God's grace and holiness in action. So you are aware of failure, but you don't do it with any sense that giving into temptation is an acceptable outcome. It's a paradox that is tricky to live with sometimes.
I remember when I first read this book I felt so liberated. I had never been able to understand what people meant when they talked about 'turning away from sin'. I felt like I was trying to do that all the time, and sin just kept following me. But reading S&T helped me realise that the Bible shows us that sin is absolutely awful, and that I couldn't get away from my own sins without drastic action. That I was never going to do an action that was completely sinless (which took enormous pressure off!) That when we are changed by Jesus to new and living creatures, sins aren't just abberations (in one sense of course they are), they're ingrained. And repentance is actually fiercely hard work. It's not just accidental or easy. And in Christ, God is on my side, giving me so much to help me to be holy and showing me what holiness was and getting me there, having (paradoxically) already made me holy in Christ.
Whenever we talk about grace we are really talking about sin, because without sin there is no need for grace. That's why Christians talk about how great grace is ad nauseum, because they've gotten a sense of how bad they actually are and are really, really grateful for this grace held out to us all in Christ Jesus. We can't live without it.
This week I've been thinking a lot about sin and temptation, and what it means to be (as Luther put it) 'always a sinner and always a saint' at the same time. And I've been wading through the carnage of other peoples' sins, realising from that how damaging sin is, even my own, often excused sin.
Not a cheery week.
But I keep remembering stuff I discovered all those years ago while reading that book: That you don't trust yourself, and specifically you learn yourself and your sinfulness well enough to know when to definitely not trust yourself. That you ask God to teach you yourself because your own heart is going to lie to you and pretend that things are a whole lot better than they actually are. That you work out how you get to a big crisis point of temptation - what does the path look like for you? What are the micro-choices on the path? That when you've done this hard thinking and praying, you learn to put alarm bells at various points for yourself. That you learn to be almost savage with yourself on certain issues, because you've seen something of your own wickedness (though - and I always liked this bit - God is so kind that he doesn't let you see the full extent of your own wickedness).
And you realise that there really are tendencies within you that are so bad they need to be dealt with that harshly.
I am a bad person.
I am not the good person I wish others to see.
I am a sinner, and a sinner is a walking timebomb, always either just finished or on the verge of creating pain for myself or others. Yes, in Christ I am made holy, and by his grace that work is not my own labour, but I am called on to co-operate with his Spirit as he works in me towards a goal which stands outside of this world.
But you do all this knowing that in the here and now you'll fail, and that the grace of God in Christ is utterly sufficient for each and every failure. And you know that in Christ, you are being transformed into this 'saint', this person who despite this rotten sinfulness is able to demonstrate God's grace and holiness in action. So you are aware of failure, but you don't do it with any sense that giving into temptation is an acceptable outcome. It's a paradox that is tricky to live with sometimes.
I remember when I first read this book I felt so liberated. I had never been able to understand what people meant when they talked about 'turning away from sin'. I felt like I was trying to do that all the time, and sin just kept following me. But reading S&T helped me realise that the Bible shows us that sin is absolutely awful, and that I couldn't get away from my own sins without drastic action. That I was never going to do an action that was completely sinless (which took enormous pressure off!) That when we are changed by Jesus to new and living creatures, sins aren't just abberations (in one sense of course they are), they're ingrained. And repentance is actually fiercely hard work. It's not just accidental or easy. And in Christ, God is on my side, giving me so much to help me to be holy and showing me what holiness was and getting me there, having (paradoxically) already made me holy in Christ.
Whenever we talk about grace we are really talking about sin, because without sin there is no need for grace. That's why Christians talk about how great grace is ad nauseum, because they've gotten a sense of how bad they actually are and are really, really grateful for this grace held out to us all in Christ Jesus. We can't live without it.
Thursday, 25 January 2007
The Dirge of the Earthmothers
The Earthmothers sigh in the dawn,
For one of their number has gone.
She viewed her high calling with scorn,
And left them alone with disdain.
They wail in the ocean's cold breeze,
They keen in the chill winter winds,
Their sobs cause all glad hearts to freeze,
Their grief inconsolable, burns.
They mourn their lost Earthmother dear,
The greatest their clan ever knew
She left without shedding a tear,
And pitiless went her own way.
The cause of such woe all forlorn,
The whim of a woman in search
Of better fate than she was born
Though none fit this better than she.
For a good friend, who really doesn't want to be called Earthmother. Such a pity.
For one of their number has gone.
She viewed her high calling with scorn,
And left them alone with disdain.
They wail in the ocean's cold breeze,
They keen in the chill winter winds,
Their sobs cause all glad hearts to freeze,
Their grief inconsolable, burns.
They mourn their lost Earthmother dear,
The greatest their clan ever knew
She left without shedding a tear,
And pitiless went her own way.
The cause of such woe all forlorn,
The whim of a woman in search
Of better fate than she was born
Though none fit this better than she.
For a good friend, who really doesn't want to be called Earthmother. Such a pity.
Wednesday, 24 January 2007
Enjoying Redeemed Life
One of the things I love about being Anglican (and from that you can deduce that I haven't always been Anglican - no 'true' Anglican would be that doxological about it!) - but one of the things I love about being Anglican is the robust doctrine of creation which I inherit. True, other denominations have it also, but I like the way it's expressed in Anglicanism.
Prayers are said for all kinds of things in church each week: for Christians, people who aren't Christian, disasters, wars, government leaders and many others. You really get the sense that God is sovereign: he rules over all people and all of this world.
There is no sense of 'forbidden' hovering over many things, but a ready acceptance that this world is full of good things which God made and which it is right and proper for us to enjoy, within the bounds of what it means to please him. So, alcohol, food, work, sex, shiny things - nothing is inherently wrong or to be feared. This is so in line with Scripture (particularly the OT feasts), and is another reminder that this world is God's world; we are not to live in fear of it.
One thing I have noticed though is that I've embraced this so enthusiastically I haven't thought as carefully as I should have about how it synchs with a doctrine of redemption. That is, as a follower of the crucified Christ, I am called on to give up my life, my dreams, my preferences and follow him to death. Somehow these two fit together without contradiction, though in tension, I would expect.
My hunch is that the path through is love for neighbour and for God, which requires self renunciation (not for its own sake), and requires a freedom and love of living in God's world (to rejoice with those who rejoice, and to notice the good gifts of God and give thanks). So, renunciation and enjoyment - not based on my preferences of what I want to give up and what I want to enjoy, but instead choices based on love. Christianity is a place where the challenges never stop.
Prayers are said for all kinds of things in church each week: for Christians, people who aren't Christian, disasters, wars, government leaders and many others. You really get the sense that God is sovereign: he rules over all people and all of this world.
There is no sense of 'forbidden' hovering over many things, but a ready acceptance that this world is full of good things which God made and which it is right and proper for us to enjoy, within the bounds of what it means to please him. So, alcohol, food, work, sex, shiny things - nothing is inherently wrong or to be feared. This is so in line with Scripture (particularly the OT feasts), and is another reminder that this world is God's world; we are not to live in fear of it.
One thing I have noticed though is that I've embraced this so enthusiastically I haven't thought as carefully as I should have about how it synchs with a doctrine of redemption. That is, as a follower of the crucified Christ, I am called on to give up my life, my dreams, my preferences and follow him to death. Somehow these two fit together without contradiction, though in tension, I would expect.
My hunch is that the path through is love for neighbour and for God, which requires self renunciation (not for its own sake), and requires a freedom and love of living in God's world (to rejoice with those who rejoice, and to notice the good gifts of God and give thanks). So, renunciation and enjoyment - not based on my preferences of what I want to give up and what I want to enjoy, but instead choices based on love. Christianity is a place where the challenges never stop.
Saturday, 20 January 2007
A Fallen World
This week, a rather good week on the whole, has been shattered quite unexpectedly. The tale is old, involves church leaders, an affair, seriously shaken marriages, children with broken hearts, and a disrupted congregation.
The news for me is only three hours old, so I'm still processing this. But one of the first things that struck me was how complex grace is in all this & how much has been utterly, utterly wasted.
Complex grace? Because even though they have sinned in ways which are too painful to completely think through - damaging their respective spouses, their children, themselves and our congregation - God still holds out his abundant grace to them in Christ. His love for them hasn't flickered a beat, because of the work that Jesus had done through his death and resurrection already for that sin. Yet, the communication of that to them is complicated. There will be a substantial barrier of hurt and confusion separating them from a clear communication of acceptance by the congregation, not to mention their families. I don't think that the congregation will be nasty to them, just that the whole thing will be so clouded. I don't know what I'd say if I ran into them. I don't know what grace looks like in this situation. I'm still thinking about it all.
And waste. The investment of resources - physical and emotional - which went into those marriages, those families, even that ministry training - to come to this mutilated mess. Can anything be salvaged from it all? But it is such a demonstration of what sin does - takes what is good and wholesome and useful, and shreds it. Anything that is left is unalterably affected by what has happened. I suppose in some sense that answers the question of grace - grace is what builds on this wasteland, acknowledging its difference but retrieving as much good as possible. Under God, any good that comes of this nightmare will be hammered out by his grace in Christ. But so much is gone in a moment, which took a lifetime to build. It's a bit like us losing the Garden of Eden so long ago.
The news for me is only three hours old, so I'm still processing this. But one of the first things that struck me was how complex grace is in all this & how much has been utterly, utterly wasted.
Complex grace? Because even though they have sinned in ways which are too painful to completely think through - damaging their respective spouses, their children, themselves and our congregation - God still holds out his abundant grace to them in Christ. His love for them hasn't flickered a beat, because of the work that Jesus had done through his death and resurrection already for that sin. Yet, the communication of that to them is complicated. There will be a substantial barrier of hurt and confusion separating them from a clear communication of acceptance by the congregation, not to mention their families. I don't think that the congregation will be nasty to them, just that the whole thing will be so clouded. I don't know what I'd say if I ran into them. I don't know what grace looks like in this situation. I'm still thinking about it all.
And waste. The investment of resources - physical and emotional - which went into those marriages, those families, even that ministry training - to come to this mutilated mess. Can anything be salvaged from it all? But it is such a demonstration of what sin does - takes what is good and wholesome and useful, and shreds it. Anything that is left is unalterably affected by what has happened. I suppose in some sense that answers the question of grace - grace is what builds on this wasteland, acknowledging its difference but retrieving as much good as possible. Under God, any good that comes of this nightmare will be hammered out by his grace in Christ. But so much is gone in a moment, which took a lifetime to build. It's a bit like us losing the Garden of Eden so long ago.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
