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!
Monday, 29 January 2007
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.
Thursday, 18 January 2007
Image... why do we care?
I was going to write a post about theories theologians have about 'image of God' and how it functions and what it means. But it occurred to me that this needed to be preceded by a post about why all that would even matter. Does thinking about 'image of God' make any tangible difference to how we think about God and people, and to how we treat God and people?
I think it does.
If we think that every human creature 'images' God or bears God's image, then Scripture demonstrates that this informs how we speak to/of them (James) and how we think of them (Matthew: Sermon on the Mount). It puts brakes on our sin. It questions our easy contempt for people who irritate us or hate us. It threatens our sense of superiority. In the end, if everyone does have this valuable 'image of God' in some way, then there is some connection between them and God.
It means that people with mental illness or disability, stroke victims, unborn children,the dying and so forth, are all infinitely valuable. They possess 'humanity' not because they can contribute to the economic growth of the western world, but because of the connection with God which their humanity gives them. And seeing as you can't separate a human person from the state of being human, it means that each person is valuable. Thinking about this issue can give us more courage, I think, to declare the lie which undergirds much of our entertainment industry, if not our society: that only the beautiful people are worthwhile.
A lot depends on how a person understands 'image of God', whether we still possess it after the Fall, how it relates to Jesus as image of God, and other similar questions. But it does make a difference to how we understand ourselves, each other and ulimately God, particularly how we are in relation to him. It doesn't do everything for us, but it does provide a fundamental building block for our understanding on these issues.
It isn't sentimental either, I don't think. There is no sense in which we try and find the best in people we would ordinarily consider ratbags and call that 'image' and start to make outrageously positive comments about them. It's more a driving conviction that bulsters the command to 'love our neighbour'. Sure, we'll do it because Jesus has shown us what love looks like and told us to do it, but when we understand the kinds of things which would lead to this command, it allows us to obey with greater awareness and clarity. Intelligent obedience is almost always better quality obedience and achieves more good for more people.
A lot more has to be said - about sin, about Jesus, about the way image functions, but this will do for a start: image of God isn't a peripheral aspect of human beings, it's central and key to understanding and learning to love people.
I think it does.
If we think that every human creature 'images' God or bears God's image, then Scripture demonstrates that this informs how we speak to/of them (James) and how we think of them (Matthew: Sermon on the Mount). It puts brakes on our sin. It questions our easy contempt for people who irritate us or hate us. It threatens our sense of superiority. In the end, if everyone does have this valuable 'image of God' in some way, then there is some connection between them and God.
It means that people with mental illness or disability, stroke victims, unborn children,the dying and so forth, are all infinitely valuable. They possess 'humanity' not because they can contribute to the economic growth of the western world, but because of the connection with God which their humanity gives them. And seeing as you can't separate a human person from the state of being human, it means that each person is valuable. Thinking about this issue can give us more courage, I think, to declare the lie which undergirds much of our entertainment industry, if not our society: that only the beautiful people are worthwhile.
A lot depends on how a person understands 'image of God', whether we still possess it after the Fall, how it relates to Jesus as image of God, and other similar questions. But it does make a difference to how we understand ourselves, each other and ulimately God, particularly how we are in relation to him. It doesn't do everything for us, but it does provide a fundamental building block for our understanding on these issues.
It isn't sentimental either, I don't think. There is no sense in which we try and find the best in people we would ordinarily consider ratbags and call that 'image' and start to make outrageously positive comments about them. It's more a driving conviction that bulsters the command to 'love our neighbour'. Sure, we'll do it because Jesus has shown us what love looks like and told us to do it, but when we understand the kinds of things which would lead to this command, it allows us to obey with greater awareness and clarity. Intelligent obedience is almost always better quality obedience and achieves more good for more people.
A lot more has to be said - about sin, about Jesus, about the way image functions, but this will do for a start: image of God isn't a peripheral aspect of human beings, it's central and key to understanding and learning to love people.
Tuesday, 16 January 2007
Excerise is just medicine, folks. Let's be real.
OK, we need to be clear about exercise.
It is uncomfortable.
It is a waste of time.
It results in a lot of sweat and the need for a shower.
It makes you feel tired, and can cause your legs/other muscles to ache.
The idea that there is some virtue in exercise for its own sake is just demoralising. But there seems to be a conspiracy, where everyone goes on about how good you feel afterwards and so forth. It may be the case for some people, but it just doesn't happen to me. And I can't believe that I am that unusual.
It would be so much easier if they were honest and said, "Look, it's dreadful and it's going to put a hole in your day and you aren't necessarily going to feel better or anything for it. But it is necessary, so just do it".
So, I get my 40 minute walk over early in the day. I don't feel better for it. I don't enjoy it. I don't want to do it. I consider it a very long form of medicine, and I'm glad when it's over and I can go back to my more sedentary and definitely more enjoyable existence.
Glad we've cleared that up.
It is uncomfortable.
It is a waste of time.
It results in a lot of sweat and the need for a shower.
It makes you feel tired, and can cause your legs/other muscles to ache.
The idea that there is some virtue in exercise for its own sake is just demoralising. But there seems to be a conspiracy, where everyone goes on about how good you feel afterwards and so forth. It may be the case for some people, but it just doesn't happen to me. And I can't believe that I am that unusual.
It would be so much easier if they were honest and said, "Look, it's dreadful and it's going to put a hole in your day and you aren't necessarily going to feel better or anything for it. But it is necessary, so just do it".
So, I get my 40 minute walk over early in the day. I don't feel better for it. I don't enjoy it. I don't want to do it. I consider it a very long form of medicine, and I'm glad when it's over and I can go back to my more sedentary and definitely more enjoyable existence.
Glad we've cleared that up.
Monday, 15 January 2007
I'm Back!
Levor and I have been up at Summer School for the mission organisation we support. It was a great time. We had fun with the people we stayed with, got a lot from the Bible teaching times, and were challenged by the deluge of missionary issues and stories.
Being a glass-half-empty kind of person, I was expecting things to not work at all well, so I'm delighted and surprised. It was an excellent way to begin the year.
Being a glass-half-empty kind of person, I was expecting things to not work at all well, so I'm delighted and surprised. It was an excellent way to begin the year.
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