...deserts to gardens...

A Noble Focus for our Attention...

2012-01-17T12:31:00.001+11:00

Not all church leaders have lost sight of what really matters, which is a welcome revelation this week after the amount of airplay some church leaders are getting over what you could say are more trivial matters.

While other church leaders are *cough* focussed elsewhere, Pastor Corey Brooks of Chicago is up to his eyeballs in real life-and-death drama, and dare I say the real work of the Kingdom of God.

In a reaction to the increasing number of killings in his neighbourhood, this bold man of God has taken bold steps (all the way up to the roof of a vacant hotel), in hopes of drawing attention to the needs and bringing a change in his community. You can read the full account of Pastor Brooks' story by Catherine Newhouse in "Urban Faith" here.

I pray the Pastor Brooks and his neighbourhood get the help they need and that God will continue to work in the lives of those he is ministering to. I pray too, that the rest of us will turn our attention away from that which is not glorifying to God or for the advancement of His Kingdom, and back to that which is.

Turn my heart toward your statutes
   and not toward selfish gain.
Turn my eyes away from worthless things;
   preserve my life according to your word.
Fulfil your promise to your servant,
   so that you may be feared...Psalm 119:36-38

Pastor Corey Brooks on the roof of an abandoned Chicago motel.

Mark Driscoll vs. Justin Brierly- My Two Cents

2012-01-17T11:12:00.000+11:00

For those who are unaware, there's been a right hoo-haa (spelling?) stirred up this week over an interview between British journalist Justin Brierly and US celebrity pastor of Mars Hill Church in Seattle, Mark Driscoll. I have a lot of thoughts and strong feelings on several aspects of the subject matter raised, but am not going to voice them here ("have nothing to do with pointless arguments that lead nowhere"- the Bible). If you want to know more, just Google it. There's loads of material surfacing. I encourage you to listen, as I have done, to the entire interview. It's available online. Anyway, here's my contribution...
Just because someone speaks loudly and gathers a following does not necessarily make them prophetic or the singular custodian of all truth. That's my two cents' on the Driscoll vs. Brierly shenanigans, and that's all I'll say (publicly) on the matter.

A Living Word

2012-01-16T12:27:00.001+11:00

I've heard it said that in the original Greek biblical texts there are two types of "word"- there is the "logos" word, or written word, and there is the "rhema" word- the spoken, living, active word. Every once in a while, when I read the Bible, I get to experience first-hand what that actually means. I don't know if this is a common experience for everyone but I have spoken to others who've experienced similar. But at these times, it's like the words I'm reading actually illuminate a darkened place in my mind, and cause a physical reaction in my heart.

This just happened today- but first, a little background.

Most people who know me would know that I've battled with depression on and off. Lately it's been more "on" than "off", and I'm currently seeing my doctor regularly and seeking help about it. One of the symptoms of a typical fall into the pit for me is that I find it an extremely hard chore to do even the most menial tasks, like get out of bed. Even that simple thing seems fraught with potential struggle and it just seems easier to stay there...so you can imagine doing something as proactive as picking up my Bible or managing anything like a meaningful time of prayer can be quite the mission on those days.

But today I woke with a glimmer of hope, by some miracle, and I came to the office in a reasonable mood (unusual for a Monday for me, after a weekend of church activity). As I sat at my desk checking emails and whatnot, a verse poked it's way into my consciousness. It comes from Lamentations (the Lament of the Prophet Jeremiah). It goes like this:

"Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." Lamentations 3:22-23

Each time I've read it over today, this verse has slowly but surely come alive in me. I found myself meditating on it, chewing it over in the back of my mind. And then I realised this was one of those rhema words- the Spirit of God was speaking to me, trying to get me to understand something. So I read it again, and as I did, my mind came to life and my heart felt a slow but beautiful joy...His compassions NEVER fail...they are new, EVERY MORNING...every morning...a fresh start each day! Endless mercy, compassion and grace.

Oh Lord let your truth transform my innermost parts so that my life can be a testimony of your great goodness & transforming power. Thankyou for your compassion, your mercy.

Wake Up, Australia...

2012-01-11T14:23:00.000+11:00

Speaking Up for the Vulnerable

Pornography is becoming increasingly acceptable in unacceptable places in Australian pop culture. What I mean by that is, our national standards of what is permitted in the common view and readily available for children and young people, have dropped dramatically in recent years. Two things this morning have come across my desk in relation to the rising prevalence of soft porn in retail stores and the media, in full view of young people. It's not only porn; it's a lowering of standards in general. Today's kids are concerned (even obsessed) about stuff that wasn't even a blip on the radar of most kids in my generation (and I'm not that old!).

I came across this article this morning via the "Australian Prayer Network". While I regretfully am not surprised, I'm saddened, nonetheless. Come on Australia...we used to believe in stuff, once. We used to have principles and stick to them. We used to draw lines and say, "Enough!", when it was enough...especially when it came to protecting the innocent; especially when it came to protecting our children.

If we don't start making demands for better standards that protect our childrens' innocence, who will? Wake up Australia.

Here endeth my rant, for today...

A report from the evaluation and statistics branch of Community Services NSW show 30% of 12-17 year olds have been reported to the Government Child Protection Agency at least once in their life. The Director of the Australian Centre for Child Protection at the University of South Australia said these figures may be the highest in the developed world. Children do not have a voice in society, church or family. Children only receive and inherit what we, the adults decree. Our children are the most valuable commodity and they are the most vulnerable and, the least protected in our society.

The 2008 Picture Book of the Year chosen by The Children Book Council of Australia was Requiem for a Beast, written and illustrated by Matt Ottley. Received rave reviews, including "WOW". How a children's Picture Book of the Year, with multiple use of the "f" word and the use of the name of Jesus as an expression of exasperation or indignation is hard to contemplate? One must question the intentions of those who make up the Children's Book Council. After my initial complaint to the council I was advised that "it was being successfully used in schools".

The WA Education website has a feature of the book and is advising teachers that work books are now available so they may have more in depth information and be better equipped to teach the children. The 2007 Board of Studies in NSW set out the modules and recommending reading for year 11 students preparing for the HSC. One such recommendation is "We All fall down" by Robert Cormier. Briefly, the novel describes a 14 year old who arrives home as four drunken 17 year olds are smashing up her home. Two of them rape her and she is thrown down some steps and badly injured. The girl's next door neighbour observes all that has happened. However he has his own story.

As an 11 year old child he successfully murdered his grand-father and a school bully. He calls himself the avenger and he decides to kill the four 17 year olds. However when things go wrong, he suicides by cutting his wrists in front of a 16 year old girl he had kidnapped. Wikipedia's review "because of the language and adult themes, it is named as one of the top 100 most challenged books from 1990-2000 by the American Library Association and has been banned from some libraries." The internet has many great features, but it is abused by a minority who create all sorts of problems through pornography and unsolicited approaches, such as child predators.

The Federal Government has spoken about the need to protect our children but have not put anything in place to action that intent.   Research show that in 2008 in excess of 110,000 children and teenagers (10-17 year olds) reported "being very or extremely upset or afraid after an unwanted on line solicitation".

G classified movies in 2000 consisted of discreet Violence - Sex - Coarse Language. G classified movies in 2003 consisted of discreet Themes of Violence - Sex - Language - Drug Use and Nudity. Use of such themes must have been able to be justified by context. Previously these were PG classified. Most M and MA movies contravene at least 3 and possibly 5 of the Articles of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child. (Articles 1, 17, 18, 19, 32, 34, 36)

Any child of any age can go and view in a theatre an M rated movie which can have naked men and women involved in simulated sex acts. There is NO legal requirement to stop children from attending these movies. These same movies can be viewed on the home television set between the hours of 12 noon to 3 pm on any school day. However many children are NOT in school during this 12 noon -3 pm period. On any given school day some 300,000 students are absent from school. (ABS) The number of Children aged 1-4 years of age total 1,122,969. (ABS) Add those numbers together and possibly 1.4 million children would NOT be in school and could be exposed to M classified films.

One could also add to this number the 182,500 students from the Independent Schools, who have different school terms from the public schools. Another consideration when looking at the M classified movies, is that they can be shown on television after 8:30 pm on week days. Australian Communication and Media Authorities' own research show that nearly 300,000 children are viewing M classified movies on TV after 8:30 pm and more than 250,000 children (0-17) are still watching MA classified movies after 9 pm. (Free TV Australia 2008) However, sadly it does get worse!

On the 5th March 2009 SBS showed, an Israeli film, Sweet Mud which as I later found out, had received The Grand Jury Prize for World Cinema Dramatic at the Sundance Festival held every January in Salt Lake City Utah in the USA. The scene I complained about was a sexual act between a man and an animal and it was aired on SBS just after 10 pm. This is a direct quote from a letter I received from Sally Begbie the SBS Ombudsman regarding my official complaint. Quote "The barn scene does indeed appear to show the farmer engaging with the calf. However this scene is not explicit and the action itself is not shown but implied through a series of shots"

The Minister for Home Affairs The Hon Brendon O'Connor response.
1)      Direct quote "I (Senator O'Connor) am advised that the Classification Board has not classified the film Sweet Mud. The Classification Board and Classification Review Board do not classify content broadcast on television??

2)      Direct quote "As you suggest the Convention contains a number of articles relevant to the protection of children from exposure to harm, including the media. In particular, Article 17 " to encourage the development of appropriate guidelines for the protection of the child from information and material injurious to his or her wellbeing..." however the Convention does not specify what kind of material may be harmful to children".

A letter of complaint about the above to the Australian Communications and Media Authority, the peak body who have the final say on these matters solicited this response "....it is therefore considered that the sexual behaviour (with an animal - these are my words) is discreetly implied. The action is considered justified in the context". What this means in every-day language is that it is alright to show on our television screens, discreet and implied sexual acts with animals. What must we do to stop such filth on our television sets? Let us get active and stand up for our rights and those of our children. As Proverbs tells us "Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves.

Source: Children of the World; Written by Graham Mc Donald, Team Leader - Children of the World a ministry of Campus Crusade for Christ Australia

The Race...Episode #1

2011-12-14T10:21:00.000+11:00

I prayed and asked God to show me where I am and I saw myself over a barrel. I didn't throw the barrel, I didn't see it coming. It just came and knocked me off me feet. I don't know where it came from, but the fact remains...there I am, sprawled on my back, fair game for trampling.

I think if you're running purposefully towards a goal (focused and alert) it would be somewhat more difficult for a barrel to bowl you over. But when you stop, when you lose the distinctive sound of your Coach's voice among the shouts of all the other voices on the sideline, you're an easy target.

I've become an easy target. I've stopped running, and tried to listen to too many other voices.

So what are my intentions now? Do I quit the race, tucking my head in shame and then opening myself up to anger and bitterness? Do I let the voice of the Accuser shout down all the others and lead me to places I don't wanna go? Or do I pause a moment and listen again for the voice of my Coach, my Helper, my Guide?

I think I'm gonna do the latter.

To that end, I've deactivated my personal Facebook account. That's step one. Step two?

Well, I'm gonna get on my knees and find out.

Oh to be as alert as Spiderman...

^"24-25You've all been to the stadium and seen the athletes race. Everyone runs; one wins. Run to win. All good athletes train hard. They do it for a gold medal that tarnishes and fades. You're after one that's gold eternally.

^26-27I don't know about you, but I'm running hard for the finish line. I'm giving it everything I've got. No sloppy living for me! I'm staying alert and in top condition. I'm not going to get caught napping, telling everyone else all about it and then missing out myself." 1 Corinthians 9:24-27, the Message

Peace, out.

Healer

2011-12-09T12:01:00.000+11:00

I'm in awe after watching this. Not much to say, just this...

Please come, Lord Jesus, and heal us. Free us. Release us.

Silence

2011-10-24T15:18:00.002+11:00

I've been reflecting a lot on the practice of being silent (perhaps soon I'll get to actually practice it myself...). Seriously, though, you can't deny that the world is getting crazier, faster & noisier all the time. We are constantly bombarded (I'm speaking most specifically to those in a First World/ Western World context), with all kinds of noise.

Friends of mine have recently been kinda forced into reflecting on this craziness as they sat and waited for their son to pull through a life-threatening emergency situation in hospital. He's out of the woods now, and here I thought I'd share some of my friends' insights...

I'd just like to say one thing that sticks in my mind after all the concerns of the last 2 weeks. That is the ever changing faces of new families that would show up in the ICU Waiting Room every day. After a while if we saw an empty room we would be thankful but so many times we saw many families having to face the loss of a family member or the nervous wait of an outcome that they were totally unempowered to alter. Joel wasn't the only young guy in the ICU. There were at least 2 other young males, who were rushed in with life threatening situations. One was 23 who had a Brain aneurysm who's father I spoke to at length. His son, ran his own business and was just way too busy. His Dad told him to slow down but he couldn't. He was left paralysed down his left side. His long term recovery is unknown! To see their faces everyday was beyond painful for us! One thing that I've realised is that our young people are putting way too much pressure on themselves and seem programmed to drop. The world we now live in has become a place where every sense in a persons makeup is either under attack for attention, or over stimulated through music, radio, advertising, phones, TV etc. The value of silence, and nothingness, has been lost, yet it is in these lost quiet times where, we need to evaluate our life, our decisions, words we have both spoken and heard. These are the times when we can get in touch with our spirit. To the young ones, make time daily to listen to the leaves wave in the wind. Enjoy these great young years, because your youth, energy and innocence will never return.

I'm putting my vote in...we need more quiet time. I'm officially appealing to the High Court of Me to grant myself regular times of stillness, meditation & reflection.

Here's a song...(just follow this link and press "play". )

Below is a picture I created for the communion table in one of our Sunday Evening Gatherings in recent months (you can read a little more about it here) where I spoke about silence, and we watched the Nooma Film "Noise"...

I mUst be NUTs...

2011-10-19T21:45:00.001+11:00

I figured I don't have enough to do, what with being a wife & mother, a youth minister, a FOYS (friends of youth space, aka rutherford skate park) committee member, studying towards a youth work qualification and (most recently), conscripted to blogging for an online magazine...and I decided to take on "NaNoWriMo" (National Novel Writing Month) again this year!

I probably won't complete it, or even get very far (there's the spirit), but I just wanna do it as a hobby in my (whatever) down time I get. And who knows, I might actually get some good ideas out of it? :)

Once NaNo kicks off on November 1st, you can keep up (if you're keen) with my profile & progress by clicking this link...

Masokj (Karen Jimmy's NaNo Profile)

Injustice.

2011-10-12T16:08:00.003+11:00

I wrote a poem just now as a response to a whole lot of information that has crossed my path of late. I could have responded with despondence. Instead, I'm responding with FIGHT & FAITH.

"I'm running fast & free to You, cos You are the Movement & fight in me..." (from the song "Movements" by Rend Collective Experiment)

Anyway, here is my poem...

"Injustice"
Ahhh, Injustice, there you are...flaunting yourself on every street corner, in every alley, brazen & unabashed.

You strut around like you're the king of the world, at the top of your game, unbeatable.
You ruin lives with your deceitful ways, all the while promising a better day...

You reel in the innocent, you cause the unassuming to stumble, the victim to fall.
Who will cry out on behalf of the victim, the oppressed, the forgotten ones? Who will make it right?

There is One who can take you on, and He unfettered by human constraints, "humane" laws that protect the perpetrator.

The One is coming. And you, Injustice, will have your day.

(c) K. Jimmy 2011

"I can't help it- it's sigh just the way I am..."

2011-08-31T13:35:00.000+10:00

How many times have we all heard those words, out of our own mouths and the mouths of others...?

I'm right in the middle of what I believe is a spiritual awakening in a very real sense in my life- and it's all due to one little (big) word: EPIGENETICS.

I'm still very new with all this and still getting my head around a lot of it, but bear with me while I try and explain in layman's terms what I'm talking about...

I couple of months ago I picked a book up off my shelf that looked like it might be useful in my line of work, ministering to young people. It's called "Healing the Wounded Spirit", by John & Paula Sandford. I found it's been very helpful for my work- but also for me personally. As I've been reading it, someone at our church started advertising a 6-week course called "Who Am I?- Discover Yourself". I decided to check it out and we are now into the 3rd week. It was in the very first week that my world was rocked by my first collision with the concept of epigenetics...

In a nutshell (trying to keep it simple) epigenetics is a relatively "new" science which has busted the myth that we are merely products of our genetics and/or how we were nurtured- blowing the need for the whole nature/nurture debate clear out of the water. The premise is that "while your inherited set of genes doesn't change, the potentials inherent in those genes can be turned on or off as a response to your life experience." (from, "Epigenetics: Control Your Own Genes", found at http://www.self-healing-science.com/new-science/epigenetics-you-control-your-genes/ )

In other words, who we become isn't solely reliant on our biological family history- we don't have to put up with what's been passed down to us- we can change our genetics (and that of our children and subsequent generations), as we ourselves are changed via our responses to what life dishes out.

There is so much more that could be said in explanation but as I said I'm still processing all this myself. Suffice it to say that I am now thinking completely differently in terms of my own self and what I might pass down to my children, and how these things (wrong ways of thinking about life, for example) can be flipped on their head as the Light of the World and the Truth of the Word of God rearranges my head and aligns it with the truth. In pure street talk, I am not the victim I always thought I was. And my children don't need to be either. This science is now proving what we have seen over the years in ministry to be true- that God's light, when it shines in the darkest parts of our hearts, can bring about a complete turnaround in a person's life. Literally. Physically. Tangibly. Scientifically. Genetically.

If you want to read some of the things I am reading to wrap my head around this astonishing discovery, go to the link above (Self-Healing_Science) and also check out this article from Time Magazine... http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1952313,00.html

I am just quietly but confidently growing increasingly more ecstatic with each day as this amazing truth unravels itself in my head and penetrates to the core of my being. I hope anyone reading this who needs a similar revelation will be blessed as I am.

It's true- "The heavens [nature/biology/all creation ?] declare the glory of God...May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart [those core beliefs, my genetic inheritance, the way I see myself and the world] be pleasing in your sight, Oh Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer." (Psalm 19- additional thoughts mine)

Weeping in Portugal & Dancing in Brasil

2011-08-22T12:29:00.000+10:00

My hubby & I watched the FIFA under 20's World Cup final match yesterday between Portugal & our favourite team, Brasil. Like most under 20's matches, it was full of energy & exciting to watch. Most exciting of all was Brasil's win in the end, cementing them as champions once again.

So there was weeping in Portugal and dancing in Brasil yesterday. It just struck me as funny, as I thought about that, how things change. Tomorrow, who knows? Maybe it'll be Brasil weeping for a different reason.

I've been thinking a lot lately about depression, and particularly my own struggle with it on and off over the years. I'm at a place now where I seem to be able to sit back and see my life from a more objective place and recognise that today's tears may very well be gone tomorrow, and that all will be well again even when it seems the world is upside down and everything is wrong.

Having said that so blithely today, when I'm feeling good, I know full well that on a not-so-good day it won't be so easy for me to express such a matter-of-fact view of life. On bad days, everything's bad and I can't for the life of me pick myself up out of it. On a not-so-good day I don't have the inner resources it takes to sit back and "see my life from a more objective place".

Which brings me to the other thing I've been thinking about a lot lately, and I think, the more I think about it, that the two are more closely linked than we, well, thought!

The other thing I've been thinking about is relationship- community. We really do need each other, even though we've spent so much time & money trying to create a life that gives us "freedom" and enables us to be less dependent on other people.

The reality is, we were created for relationship. And I believe, the more I think on these things, that when we distance ourselves from community & from meaningful relationships in which we share life together with others, the more we deprive ourselves of one of life's most essential ingredients. I believe in my core, that the more we are alone, the more prone we are to become depressed.

Hmm...more thoughts on that later.

Why I can't leave Jesus out of it...

2011-07-20T11:18:00.000+10:00

I'm in the middle of reading an interview on the Noisetrade Blog (click here to read the whole thing) with one of my favourite musicians, Josh Garrels. I've interrupted the reading of this interview three times (this is my 3rd) to post bits of it in various places (other blogs, twitter, facebook etc.)...because I'm LOVING his responses to the questions. THIS one I wanted to put on my personal blog because I resonate with it myself in my own feeble attempts at being an artist. I think I'll even go crazy & post it on the Creative Coalition blog, too!

Whether in my writing, painting or songwriting I've found it difficult to break away from somehow incorporating Jesus Christ in all that I do. I've come to a place where I no longer feel the need to try, because He is central to who I am, and the meaning I've derived from life & the universe I've found only in Him. Josh puts it really well in his answer to this question....

NT: Your sound is a hybridization of Citizen Cope, Sufjan Stevens, M. Ward, and Jose Gonzalez – but, in some ways, is more accessible than any of them. Do you ever consider making your lyrics more broadly inclusive in order to reach a wider audience?

JG: It’s an honor to be compared with the likes of those guys, for I’ve got ‘em all in my iPod. I’ve always known that choosing to explore the intricacies of my faith in Christ would be a potential disconnection for many listeners. Yet, I’ve been compelled to do so, not out of a sense of obligation or to proselytize, but because when I’m honest with myself … I can’t escape how interesting, mysterious, and life-changing the whole thing is. I turn these things over in my mind and heart a lot, and the songs become a sort of tool or vehicle for me to flesh out what’s happening within. I do this as much for me as for the listener. I think to abandon this subject matter for the sake of being palatable to more listeners would be dishonest, both to myself and to them. I think it’s authenticity that people listen for first. I can connect with songs from Black Sabbath, The Sex Pistols, Prince, or Polyphonic Spree without being compelled to believe what they’re singing about. Yet, I’m compelled to listen because they’re believable.

BAM! I love it. :)

Here's one of my favourite Josh Garrels songs, just for fun...

There are no waves in New York- are there?

2011-07-01T12:56:00.000+10:00

too funny...yet a little sad...a reflection of mankind's general condition? If we don't know about something, if it hasn't been part of our experience, then it can't be real...can it?

Averting My Thoughts...

2011-06-12T13:15:00.000+10:00

I've gotten quite skilled at averting my thoughts (or should it be diverting?) from things I don't know how to deal with or handle. I guess it's a skill we all have developed to lesser or greater degrees. We can handle a thirty-second plug on TV from a non-profit org, complete with horrifying images of war, starving masses or malnourished children, but any longer than that and we squirm. Reality is so...REAL...and we are so ill-equipped to deal with it. Numbing the mind becomes the preferred option, not because we don't want to care but because we feel overwhelmed.

I think what we forget or don't realize is that we aren't meant to shoulder the burden of pain alone. We have a Burden-Bearer- his name is Jesus. He can carry our pain and deal with our overwhelming emotions when we can't. He's the only one who has ever and will ever carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, and lived to talk about it.

I say all this just as a pep-talk to myself, really, as a prelude to what I really want to write about...

My brother is in jail, has been for about six months. It's not the first time he's been in jail but yesterday was the first time (on this current stint) that I've gone to see him. I could list a whole bunch of reasons why, but really I just haven't made it a priority. It's not that I didn't want to visit him, it's just that I was afraid I was/am ill-equipped to deal with it. It's not that I don't care about my brother- it's actually that I love him deeply and hurt for him.

Anyway I went, and it was really good to see him. He looked good, considering...

I was okay till we had to say goodbye and watch him walk back toward his cell. Then I cried. It was really hard leaving him there. I came home and felt like I was in mourning; I didn't want to talk to anybody. It's hard when you have a family to be able to process the intensity of such an experience, and now- almost 24 hours later, I'm still trying to find the time/space to process it and talk it over with the Burden-Bearer.

Right now, with my three year old playing dinosaurs noisily right next to my ear I'm finding it hard to even think straight, let alone string some reasonable thoughts together or pray. So I guess, for now, it's back to averting my thoughts.

Ketchwa

2011-06-10T16:32:00.001+10:00

I can't stop listening to Braddigan at the moment (check out his band's website here and his not-for-profit org here ).

Particularly I love/am captivated by the song "Ketchwa". You can listen to it online by following this link...

http://new.music.yahoo.com/braddigan/tracks/ketchwa--178679331

I really recommend you purchase the album "the Captive"- it's available now on iTunes :)

Are Your Clothes Made By the Hands of Slaves?

2011-05-25T11:56:00.002+10:00

My friend Shar is passionate about seeing an end to human trafficking, and she's doing something about it. Shar & friends are hosting an event in Newcastle on June 18th called "Change for Change". You can find out more info about the event at the webpage here.

If you're in the Newie area and can get along to support this event, DO IT! If you're not or you can't be present, you can still support by donating money and promoting the event to your friends. All proceeds go toward Stop the Traffik.

People should NOT be bought & sold.

Angel Wars

2011-05-19T10:55:00.002+10:00

The other day I bought for my kids a DVD called "Angel Wars- Guardian Force". I think I enjoyed it as much as they did, and we watched it a few times over (it was cold so it was a nice excuse to snuggle on the couch)!

It's part of a series of DVDs about a group of angels sent to watch over humans and protect them from their mortal enemy- the Dragon's minions.

The "angels" in the movie are fitted with high-tech armour, which (being an anime fan) I thought was really cool. The whole thing is drawn really well and rivals anything you might see on ABC4Kids (the free to air kids TV channel here in Oz). But Zion wasn't convinced about the armour...

The next morning, the first thing Zion said to me when she woke up was, "But mum, why did those angels wear all that metal?" To which I shrugged & replied, "Well, maybe that's what angels look like?"

Without missing a beat she said, "Nah, they don't look like that. They are glowing white." When I asked her how she knew this, she told me she'd seen one a few nights previous push a "big black thing" away from her bedside. It then leaned over and told her that it was okay for her to go back to sleep!

a lil more for the kids...

2011-05-18T09:41:00.001+10:00

Another late post (sorry B&B Media Group!)

My kids and I were absolutely delighted with this book. Great for explaining the simplicity of prayer to children. The artwork is beautiful and as a whole I give this book a rating of 10/10.

As someone who is passionate about prayer (I really do believe it is our lifeline to God and our primary tool for survival in this life), I am really earnest in my desire to pass on that passion to my kids. If you share that desire then I thoroughly recommend this book to you.

..............................

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card authors are:

Dan and Ali Morrow

and Illustrated by

Cory Godbey

and the book:

That's When I Talk to God

David C. Cook (April 1, 2011)

***Special thanks to Audra Jennings, Senior Media Specialist, The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHORS:

Dan and Ali Morrow are parents of two wonderful daughters. When they’re not writing children’s books, they like to go on adventures around their Colorado home. They are the authors of That’s Where God Is (2010), their first children’s release.

Visit the authors' website.

ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR:

Cory Godbey illustrates, animates, and writes for Portland Studios, a creative firm dedicated to telling great stories and pursuing excellence in art.

He has contributed to projects such as Zune Arts, Flight graphic novel anthologies, and has worked with many major publishers.

Recently, Cory was accepted in the acclaimed Society of Illustrators Annual.

Cory seeks to tell stories with his work.

He also likes drawing monsters.

Visit the illustrator'swebsite.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Targeted to children four to eight, That’s When I Talk to God mirrors the day of the typical child, creating an opportunity for readers to put the practices in the story to use in their own lives. Through beautiful illustrations and an engaging, familiar character, readers can relate to That’s When I Talk to God. Children will learn to go to God with their fears, their joys, their questions, and their desires. They will also learn the hows, whens, and whys of praying to the Lord in a way they can easily apply to their own experiences. And adults will be reminded to communicate the benefit, simplicity, and beauty of prayer.

Product Details:

List Price: $12.99
Reading level: Ages 4-8
Hardcover: 36 pages
Publisher: David C. Cook (April 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1434700186
ISBN-13: 978-1434700186

AND NOW...THE FIRST FEW PAGES (Click on the pictures to enlarge them!):

F.I.R.S.T. Blog Alliance- Juvenile Fiction

2011-05-18T09:30:00.000+10:00

I'm promoting this a little behind schedule as my daughter & I read it a little late :) We are loving this "Grandma's Attic" series! Great, easily readable short stories that can be read collectively as a whole or individually for stand-alone merit. Each short story provides a fable-like moral at the end which is easily understood. It's been handy for me and my daughter to read these together, especially as a mother wanting to raise my daughter to be more concerned with her character than any of the things "the world" tries to get her to focus on (looks, vanity etc.) I highly recommend these books to parents of young girls.

...........................

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Arleta Richardson

and the book:

In Grandma's Attic
AND
More Stories from Grandma's Attic

David C. Cook (April 1, 2011)

***Special thanks to Karen Davis, Assistant Media Specialist, The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Arleta Richardson grew up in a Chicago hotel under her grandmother’s care. As they sat overlooking the shores of Lake Michigan, her grandmother shared memories of her childhood on a Michigan farm. These treasured family stories became the basis for the Grandma’s Attic Series.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Remember when you were a child, when the entire world was new, and the smallest object a thing of wonder? Arleta Richardson remembered: the funny wearable wire contraption hidden in the dusty attic, the century-old schoolchild’s slate that belonged to Grandma, an ancient trunk filled with quilt pieces—each with its own special story—and the button basket, a miracle of mysteries. But best of all she remembered her remarkable grandmother who made magic of all she touched, bringing the past alive as only a born storyteller could.

So step inside the attic of Richardson’s grandmother. These stories will keep you laughing while teaching you valuable lessons. These marvelous tales faithfully recalled for the delight of young and old alike are a touchstone to another day when life was simpler, perhaps richer, and when the treasures of family life and love were passed from generation to generation by a child’s questions and the legends that followed enlarged our faith. These timeless stories were originally released in 1974 and then revised in 1999. They are being re-released with new artwork that will appeal to a new generation of girls.

Product Details:

In Grandma's Attic:

List Price: $6.99
Reading level: Ages 9-12
Paperback: 144 pages
Publisher: David C. Cook (April 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0781403790
ISBN-13: 978-0781403795

More Stories from Grandma's Attic:

List Price: $6.99
Reading level: Ages 9-12
Paperback: 144 pages
Publisher: David C. Cook; 3 edition (April 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 9780781403801
ISBN-13: 978-0781403801
ASIN: 0781403804

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

In Grandma’s Attic – Chapter 1

Pride Goes Before a Fall

“Grandma, what is this?”

Grandma looked up from her work. “Good lands, child, where did you find that?”

“In the attic,” I replied. “What is it, Grandma?”

Grandma chuckled and answered, “That’s a hoop. The kind that ladies wore under their skirts when I was a little girl.”

“Did you ever wear one, Grandma?” I asked.

Grandma laughed. “Indeed I did,” she said. “In fact, I wore that very one.”

Here, I decided, must be a story. I pulled up the footstool and prepared to listen. Grandma looked at the old hoop fondly.

“I only wore it once,” she began. “But I kept it to remind me how painful pride can be.”

I was about eight years old when that hoop came into my life. For months I had been begging Ma to let me have a hoopskirt like the big girls wore. Of course that was out of the question. What would a little girl, not even out of calicoes, be doing with a hoopskirt? Nevertheless, I could envision myself walking haughtily to school with the hoopskirt and all the girls watching enviously as I took my seat in the front of the room.

This dream was shared by my best friend and seatmate, Sarah Jane. Together we spent many hours picturing ourselves as fashionable young ladies in ruffles and petticoats. But try as we would, we could not come up with a single plan for getting a hoopskirt of our very own.

Finally, one day in early spring, Sarah Jane met me at the school grounds with exciting news. An older cousin had come to their house to visit, and she had two old hoops that she didn’t want any longer. Sarah Jane and I could have them to play with, she said. Play with, indeed! Little did that cousin know that we didn’t want to play with them. Here was the answer to our dreams. All day, under cover of our books, Sarah Jane and I planned how we would wear those hoops to church on Sunday.

There was a small problem: How would I get that hoop into the house without Ma knowing about it? And how could either of us get out of the house with them on without anyone seeing us? It was finally decided that I would stop by Sarah Jane’s house on Sunday morning. We would have some excuse for walking to church, and after her family had left, we would put on our hoops and prepare to make a grand entrance at the church.

“Be sure to wear your fullest skirt,” Sarah Jane reminded me. “And be here early. They’re all sure to look at us this Sunday!”

If we had only known how true that would be! But of course, we were happily unaware of the disaster that lay ahead.

Sunday morning came at last, and I astonished my family by the speed with which I finished my chores and was ready to leave for church.

“I’m going with Sarah Jane this morning,” I announced, and set out quickly before anyone could protest.

All went according to plan. Sarah Jane’s family went on in the buggy, cautioning us to hurry and not be late for service. We did have a bit of trouble fastening the hoops around our waists and getting our skirts pulled down to cover them. But when we were finally ready, we agreed that there could not be two finer-looking young ladies in the county than us.

Quickly we set out for church, our hoopskirts swinging as we walked. Everyone had gone in when we arrived, so we were assured the grand entry we desired. Proudly, with small noses tipped up, we sauntered to the front of the church and took our seats.

Alas! No one had ever told us the hazards of sitting down in a hoopskirt without careful practice! The gasps we heard were not of admiration as we had anticipated—far from it! For when we sat down, those dreadful hoops flew straight up in the air! Our skirts covered our faces, and the startled minister was treated to the sight of two pairs of white pantalets and flying petticoats.

Sarah Jane and I were too startled to know how to disentangle ourselves, but our mothers were not. Ma quickly snatched me from the seat and marched me out the door.

The trip home was a silent one. My dread grew with each step. What terrible punishment would I receive at the hands of an embarrassed and upset parent? Although I didn’t dare look at her, I knew she was upset because she was shaking. It was to be many years before I learned that Ma was shaking from laughter, and not from anger!

Nevertheless, punishment was in order. My Sunday afternoon was spent with the big Bible and Pa’s concordance. My task was to copy each verse I could find that had to do with being proud. That day I was a sorry little girl who learned a lesson about pride going before a fall.

“And you were never proud again, Grandma?” I asked after she finished the story.

Grandma thought soberly for a moment. “Yes,” she replied. “I was proud again. Many times. It was not until I was a young lady and the Lord saved me that I had the pride taken from my heart. But many times when I am tempted to be proud, I remember that horrid hoopskirt and decide that a proud heart is an abomination to the Lord!”

***************************************

More Stories From Grandma’s Attic

Chapter 1

The Nuisance in Ma’s Kitchen

When Grandma called from the backyard, I knew I was in for it. She was using her would-you-look-at-this voice, which usually meant I was responsible for something.

“What, Grandma?” I asked once I reached the spot where she was hanging up the washing.

“Would you look at this?” she asked. “I just went into the kitchen for more clothespins and came back out to find this.”

I looked where she was pointing. One of my kittens had crawled into the clothes basket and lay sound asleep on a clean sheet.

“If you’re going to have kittens around the house, you’ll have to keep an eye on them. Otherwise leave them in the barn where they belong. It’s hard enough to wash sheets once without doing them over again.”

Grandma headed toward the house with the soiled sheet, and I took the kitten back to the barn. But I didn’t agree that it belonged there. I would much rather have had the whole family of kittens in the house with me. Later I mentioned this to Grandma.

“I know,” she said. “I felt the same way when I was your age. If it had been up to me, I would have moved every animal on the place into the house every time it rained or snowed.”

“Didn’t your folks let any pets in the house?” I asked.

“Most of our animals weren’t pets,” Grandma admitted. “But there were a few times when they were allowed in. If an animal needed special care, it stayed in the kitchen. I really enjoyed those times, especially if it was one I could help with.”

“Tell me about one,” I said, encouraging her to tell me another story about her childhood.

“I remember one cold spring,” she began, “when Pa came in from the barn carrying a tiny goat.”

“I’m not sure we can save this one.” Pa held the baby goat up for us to see. “The nanny had twins last night, and she’ll only let one come near her. I’m afraid this one’s almost gone.”

Ma agreed and hurried to find an old blanket and a box for a bed. She opened the oven door, put the box on it, and gently took the little goat and laid it on the blanket. It didn’t move at all. It just lay there, barely breathing.

“Oh, Ma,” I said. “Do you think it will live? Shouldn’t we give it something to eat?”

“It’s too weak to eat right now,” Ma replied. “Let it rest and get warm. Then we’ll try to feed it.”

Fortunately it was Saturday, and I didn’t have to go to school. I sat on the floor next to the oven and watched the goat. Sometimes it seemed as though it had stopped breathing, and I would call Ma to look.

“It’s still alive,” she assured me. “It just isn’t strong enough to move yet. You wait there and watch if you want to, but don’t call me again unless it opens its eyes.”

When Pa and my brothers came in for dinner, Reuben stopped and looked down at the tiny animal. “Doesn’t look like much, does it?”

I burst into tears. “It does so!” I howled. “It looks just fine! Ma says it’s going to open its eyes. Don’t discourage it!”

Reuben backed off in surprise, and Pa came over to comfort me. “Now, Reuben wasn’t trying to harm that goat. He just meant that it doesn’t … look like a whole lot.”

I started to cry again, and Ma tried to soothe me. “Crying isn’t going to help that goat one bit,” she said. “When it gets stronger, it will want something to eat. I’ll put some milk on to heat while we have dinner.”

I couldn’t leave my post long enough to go to the table, so Ma let me hold my plate in my lap. I ate dinner watching the goat. Suddenly it quivered and opened its mouth. “It’s moving, Ma!” I shouted. “You’d better bring the milk!”

Ma soaked a rag in the milk, and I held it while the little goat sucked it greedily. By the time it had fallen asleep again, I was convinced that it would be just fine.

And it was! By evening the little goat was standing on its wobbly legs and began to baa loudly for more to eat. “Pa, maybe you’d better bring its box into my room,” I suggested at bedtime.

“Whatever for?” Pa asked. “It will keep warm right here by the stove. We’ll look after it during the night. Don’t worry.”

“And we aren’t bringing your bed out here,” Ma added, anticipating my next suggestion. “You’ll have enough to do, watching that goat during the day.”

Of course Ma was right. As the goat got stronger, he began to look for things to do. At first he was content to grab anything within reach and pull it. Dish towels, apron strings, and tablecloth corners all fascinated him. I kept busy trying to move things out of his way.

From the beginning the little goat took a special liking to Ma, but she was not flattered. “I can’t move six inches in this kitchen without stumbling over that animal,” she sputtered. “He can be sound asleep in his box one minute and sitting on my feet the next. I don’t know how much longer I can tolerate him in here.”

As it turned out, it wasn’t much longer. The next Monday, Ma prepared to do the washing in the washtub Pa had placed on two chairs near the woodpile. Ma always soaked the clothes in cold water first, then transferred them to the boiler on the stove.

I was in my room when I heard her shouting, “Now you put that down! Come back here!”

I ran to the kitchen door and watched as the goat circled the table with one of Pa’s shirts in his mouth. Ma was right behind him, but he managed to stay a few feet ahead of her.

“Step on the shirt, Ma!” I shouted as I ran into the room. “Then he’ll have to stop!”

I started around the table the other way, hoping to head him off. But the goat seemed to realize that he was outnumbered, for he suddenly turned and ran toward the chairs that held the washtub.

“Oh, no!” Ma cried. “Not that way!”

But it was too late! Tub, water, and clothes splashed to the floor. The goat danced stiff-legged through the soggy mess with a surprised look on his face.

“That’s enough!” Ma said. “I’ve had all I need of that goat. Take him out and tie him in the yard, Mabel. Then bring me the mop, please.”

I knew better than to say anything, but I was worried about what would happen to the goat. If he couldn’t come back in the kitchen, where would he sleep?

Pa had the answer to that. “He’ll go to the barn tonight.”

“But, Pa,” I protested, “he’s too little to sleep in the barn. Besides, he’ll think we don’t like him anymore!”

“He’ll think right,” Ma said. “He’s a menace, and he’s not staying in my kitchen another day.”

“But I like him,” I replied. “I feel sorry for him out there alone. If he has to sleep in the barn, let me go out and sleep with him!”

My two brothers looked at me in amazement.

“You?” Roy exclaimed. “You won’t even walk past the barn after dark, let alone go in!”

Everyone knew he was right. I had never been very brave about going outside after dark. But I was more concerned about the little goat than I was about myself.

“I don’t care,” I said stubbornly. “He’ll be scared out there, and he’s littler than I am.”

Ma didn’t say anything, probably because she thought I’d change my mind before dark. But I didn’t. When Pa started for the barn that evening, I was ready to go with him. Ma saw that I was determined, so she brought me a blanket.

“You’d better wrap up in this,” she said. “The hay is warm, but it’s pretty scratchy.”

I took the blanket and followed Pa and the goat out to the barn. The more I thought about the long, dark night, the less it seemed like a good idea, but I wasn’t going to give in or admit that I was afraid.

Pa found a good place for me to sleep. “This is nice and soft and out of the draft. You’ll be fine here.”

I rolled up in the blanket, hugging the goat close to me as I watched Pa check the animals. The light from the lantern cast long, scary shadows through the barn, and I thought about asking Pa if he would stay with me. I knew better, though, and all too soon he was ready to leave.

“Good night, Mabel. Sleep well,” he said as he closed the barn door behind him. I doubted that I would sleep at all. If it hadn’t been for the goat and my brothers who would laugh at me, I would have returned to the house at once. Instead I closed my eyes tightly and began to say my prayers. In a few moments the barn door opened, and Reuben’s voice called to me.

“Mabel,” he said, “it’s just me.” He came over to where I lay, and I saw that he had a blanket under his arm. “I thought I’d sleep out here tonight too. I haven’t slept in the barn for a long time. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Oh, no. That’s fine.” I turned over and fell asleep at once.

When I awoke in the morning, the goat and Reuben were both gone. Soon I found the goat curled up by his mother.

“Will you be sleeping in the barn again tonight?” Ma asked me at breakfast.

“No, I don’t think so,” I said. “I’ll take care of the goat during the day, but I guess his mother can watch him at night.”

Grandma laughed at the memory. “After I grew up, I told Reuben how grateful I was that he came out to stay with me. I wonder how my family ever put up with all my foolishness.”

Grandma went back into the house, and I wandered out to the barn to see the little kittens. I decided I wouldn’t be brave enough to spend the night there even if I had a big brother to keep me company!

witness

2011-05-16T14:53:00.000+10:00

One of my favourite songs by Ben Harper is called "Blessed to be a Witness". The message from MBC yesterday really had nothing to do with that song per se, but I had it running around in my head as I prepared the message :)

Check it out here...A Faithful Witness>> 2 Tim. 2:1-13

Below is the clip used for the final few verses of the text...

Father

2011-05-16T12:21:00.003+10:00

The other day I said to my husband, "I'd like to know who my father is," meaning my biological father. "I mean, I don't want to have a relationship with him or anything, I just want to know who he is- or more to the point, who I am."

The conversation didn't really go anywhere so we dropped it, and I didn't think about it again too much- until early yesterday morning, when an encounter with another Father about knocked me off my feet...

I was to speak in the morning service at Maitland Baptist, so I went early to have some quiet time & prepare my heart. I got there just as the music team were preparing to run through their songs so I decided to go for a walk around the property. While I did, I was listening to Kathryn Scott's album "We Still Believe" in my earphones. There is a beautiful rendition of Keith & Melody Green's song "There is a Redeemer" on it, and at the end Kathryn prays this prayer...

"Father God we honour You...we worship You. Thankyou so much that You're not the type of Father that runs out on us. You're not the type of Father who turns his back on us. You're the type of father who lavishes love. You're the type of Father who's always good, and you never change. We're always on a sure footing with you. Lord thankyou that every time we look at you in your face, You're just the same as you were before. We never need to worry that we're coming in on shaky ground. You're a firm foundation. You never change. You're always good. It's who you are and it's who you always will be. And with everything in us Lord we cry, thankyou. Thankyou. Thankyou God."

I realise that for anyone reading this, the impact won't be the same as what I felt yesterday- you can't replicate or generate that kind of thing. All I can say is that as I heard those words, something transpired in my heart and I knew God was whispering to me, somewhere deep in my core, telling me (reassuring me), "I am your Father. You don't need to look for another. Your identity is in Me."

Have a listen to this, another song by Kathryn Scott..."Child of God".

Ha...

2011-05-14T21:36:00.000+10:00

I found this on my computer...not sure when I wrote it, though it mustn't have been too long ago. Some of my life story, for anyone who cares!

I don’t know much about how it all began- my life, that is. What I do know is open for debate, so I might just stick with things I actually remember, or things that came from reliable sources…

When I was three weeks old, I was adopted into the Aldous family. Before the addition of me, there was Mum, Dad and big brother Tim. He also was adopted, but that’s his story to tell, if he even wants to, so I’ll leave that up to him.

Apparently my biological mother, Coral, was an addict and incapable of taking care of me, or at least unwilling to trust herself to look after me, or possibly coerced by others into giving me away because they didn’t trust her with me…you see why I want to just stick to what I know? Beyond that it all gets very messy.

Anyway, for whatever reason, I was adopted. I always had mixed feelings about this state of affairs, to be honest. I do remember often thinking (and even occasionally telling other people) that I was luckier than most kids because I knew my parents really loved me- they actually had gone to the effort and expense of paying money for me, whereas everyone else’s parents hadn’t. I also remember that I had this poem fixed constantly someplace I could see it- usually beside my bed. I don’t know where Mum & Dad found it but it was brilliant and I memorized it very early on. It went like this:

“Not flesh of our flesh, nor bone of our bone

But still, miraculously, our own

Never forget for even a minute

You did not grow under our heart, but in it.”

All this made me feel very loved by Mum & Dad. My brother, too, loved me, and I knew it. He was protective of me as far back as I can remember. We had our own share of fights, but if anyone else threatened me in any way, he always had my back. Mum tells me that when they went to pick me up from the hospital as a 3-week-old baby, the nurse had to take me somewhere momentarily at some point, and my brother started crying and shouting, “Hey- that’s MY baby!!!” He had a new little sister, and he wasn’t going to let anyone mess with me.

However, as I said, I’ve had mixed feelings for as long as I can remember, too. Although there was no question in my mind that my parents loved me, I couldn’t ignore the nagging sense that something must have been wrong with me for my birth mum to give me away like that. Of course when you’re a kid you can’t reason soundly, and I didn’t understand the complicated messes adults often found themselves in. All I could see was the bare facts: my mum didn’t want me and therefore I must be defective somehow.

Even my self-esteem was a confused mix. Sometimes I had all the confidence in the world, and then (sometimes when I needed it most) my bravado failed me and I wanted to be swallowed up by the ground. I suppose that’s a common experience to most of us but when you’re a kid you think you must be some kind of freak when your emotions are all over the place and when you can’t seem to control your sense of self worth.

Words have always been important to me. I’ve never really understood the whole “Love Languages” thing- as in, I can never usually pick the language other people speak to reveal how they give & receive love. But for me, it’s always been easy- words. There’s a Mark Twain quote that goes something like this: “I could go a whole week on a single compliment.” I can relate to that.

For the most part, I remember being relatively happy at school, except for the odd painful memory often associated with my hearing deficiency. There were a few embarrassing situations that arose from me not hearing someone properly and consequently making an egg of myself. But I generally felt OK with the whole school experience. I’ve heard several of my friends say recently that they hated school, and the depth of passion in their voices as they’ve expressed this hatred has stunned me more than once. I usually find myself wondering if I shared the same experience with them, or even the same era. My overall experience was honestly not too bad. I was pretty average on the whole and didn’t really stand out in anything, especially sports! But I was okay with that. My friendships were generally pretty safe too, so I didn’t have too many of those kind of stupid detestable “girly” issues to deal with. I had solid friends who weren’t the fluffy, shallow type. I was lucky, or blessed, in that sense.

But back to the words thing- as I said, words mean a great deal to me, and where I could go a whole week on a good compliment, I likewise could easily sink into a slump on one slightly negative comment, real or perceived. I tended to be a bit touchy that way- and if I’m not careful I can still be like that even now. I take criticism of any kind, constructive or otherwise, very much to heart, and sometimes one negative word can keep me down for the count for quite a while.

Outsiders may look on and say I was brainwashed by my minister-father, but I had a pretty solid faith from a pretty early age, and I can honestly say that it was very much my own faith and certainly not ever forced on me by anyone, my lovely dad included. I just had this gift of discernment even as a kid- I could tell when something was true. I guess you could say, if you are inclined to believe in the Three-In-One God as I do, that the Holy Spirit revealed the truth to me even as a little girl, and my aching, confused little heart responded to it like a flower responds to rain.

When I was about seven, and we were living in Padstow in Sydney’s inner west, my parents were involved with a home Bible study group with my friend Vicki’s mum and dad. Vicki was a couple of years older than me but she was adopted as well and I always felt like she was a “safe” friend, someone who understood. One night when our parents were in their Bible study I remember standing with Vicki out on the verandah of the house we were at, looking at the stars. Clear as anything, I remember saying to Vicki, “I’m going to be a missionary in South America one day.” And that was that. I think Vicki might have thought I was a bit delusional, judging from the look on her face, but I had said it and I was determined. I can’t remember at all what prompted me to say that, and I don’t know where that impulse first came from, but it has stayed with me my whole life, even through some pretty shady times. I still, to date, have not been to South America, but I think the main point out of that pivotal moment was the realization that I was not destined for a “nine to five” existence, and that I knew I was destined for the nations. I had found, in all my vast experience at seven years of age, a hope in Jesus that I thought was worthy of passing on to other people. In fact I believed, even then, that other people needed to hear about Jesus, and that until they did they would never truly live!

"Trouble Won't Go" - The Blackthorn Project and friends

2011-05-12T14:45:00.000+10:00

Your world (for Mothers' Day)

2011-05-09T15:05:00.002+10:00

This one is going on both my blogs, it's THAT precious. Once again a pearler from my good friend Dave Ogilvie and his lovely lady Madison Paige. Just beautiful. I know your mothers are (justifiably) proud.

Justice

2011-05-05T10:58:00.000+10:00

One of my favourite verses is Job 5:16, which says "So that the poor have hope and injustice shuts its mouth." To put it in context, one of Job's friends is encouraging the weary Job to appeal to God to rescue him from his misery, because "He performs wonders that cannot be fathomed, miracles that cannot be counted," and, "...he wounds, but he also binds up; he injures, but his hands also heal." (vs. 9 & 18)

Terms like "social justice" & "mission", among others, have become buzzwords among the 20-something hipster generation in the church today. But justice is something that has been in the heart of the Father since time immemorial. Psalm 11:7 says, "For the Lord is righteous, He loves justice." Similarly in Micah 6:8 (another favourite of mine) it says this: "The LORD God has told us what is right and what he demands: "See that justice is done, let mercy be your first concern, and humbly obey your God."

Sometime about a year or so ago, our Friday night youth group (called MOVEyouth) began a new venture toward "seeing justice done" in our own way. Using our spare change we started putting money in "the Justice Jar", and the money saved has been put toward many social justice projects both locally in Australia and globally. The idea caught with our Sunday evening gathering as well, so now they too have joined in giving towards justice projects.

Most recently we have been saving money to put towards the building of rainwater tanks in Pango village, Vanuatu. Up until last Sunday, we were about $500 short of our target for one water tank. Then on Sunday night (May 1st) something extraordinary happened, and I just had to write about it...

During the service I had said that I would bring out the Justice Jar while we had supper afterward. But when I forgot to get the Jar out, someone approached me, envelope in hand and said, "Look I've gotta go- you didn't get the Justice Jar out; could you just anonymously go and put this in there for me?" Of course I said yes, and I took the envelope to my office to put it in the "J.J." (as our MOVErs affectionately call it).

I sat on the couch, ready to put the envelope in the J.J. when some writing on the outside caught my eye. It said, "Here's your first one; we'll keep saving for the next one." Getting excited now, I decided to rip open the envelope and count what was inside. There was exactly enough inside for an entire water tank.

AN. ENTIRE.WATER. TANK.

(That's $1500, in case you were wondering.)

Now we are just $500 shy of having enough money for not one water tank, but two!

I'm so excited to see two things out of all this: firstly, it's exciting to see the hearts of young and old alike caught up in God's mission for justice in the earth. Secondly, it's exciting beyond words when God makes good and comes through on His promises...Let me finish with another of my favourite verses:

"I am the LORD your God, who brought you up out of Egypt. Open wide your mouth and I will fill it." Psalm 81:10

Prayer & Mustard

2011-05-02T15:14:00.001+10:00

"Mustard...official sponsor of the Jesus Revolution..."

(Shane Claiborne- Jesus for President)

Listen to my talk from MBC last night HERE.

Watch the clip that was played at the end below...

Cool Story

2011-05-01T07:35:00.001+10:00

I haven't really blogged "properly" in ages, and since I'm on my phone I dare say this won't be a particularly long one. But I have a cool story that needs telling...

Last Sunday morning, Easter Sunday, I was to lead a couple of songs for our church service. I'm not even in the music team anymore, having given it up a while ago due to having too much on my plate; but none of the other musos were available, so it was me & my guitar. I was pretty nervous & before the service I prayed & just asked God to help people to see Jesus rather than me- that Jesus would fill their vision.

The service went fine & as far as I can tell I only stuffed up one chord, which I think I managed to hide reasonably well. Afterward, my friend Gary came over to tell me something (this is the cool thing)...

He said, "You know how when you're looking at something, and then you shut your eyes you can still see an image of that thing? Well I was looking at you, and then I closed my eyes but instead of seeing a silhouette of you, all I could see was the cross."

You could've knocked me down with a feather. But I shouldn't have been surprised at all...God is good, and always amazing.

Happy (belated) Easter.

Sun 24th April - Easter!

2011-04-27T09:38:00.002+10:00

Sat 23rd April - Silence

2011-04-27T09:38:00.001+10:00

Fri 22nd April - It. Is. Finished.

2011-04-27T09:38:00.000+10:00

Thurs 21st April - Not My Will

2011-04-27T09:37:00.001+10:00

Weds 20th April - Supper

2011-04-27T09:37:00.000+10:00

Tues 19th April - Hosanna

2011-04-27T09:36:00.001+10:00

Mon 18th April - Perfume

2011-04-27T09:36:00.000+10:00

Fri 15th April - Go!

2011-04-27T09:35:00.000+10:00

Thurs 14th April - Mud

2011-04-27T09:34:00.000+10:00

F.I.R.S.T. Blog Alliance- "Revise Us Again" by Frank Viola

2011-04-21T11:36:00.000+10:00

"We are fallen creatures, and we sometimes turn the standards of God into dead rituals. At other times we misapply or disregard them altogether." (Chapter 1, page 18)

Frank Viola delivers yet again in this latest offering...His easy-to-read and down-to-earth style pave the way to new ways of thinking about (or "revising") faith in a non threatening way that just simply makes sense...to me, anyway :)

I'm not all the way through this book yet but I am really enjoying it and I feel refreshed in my outlook.

May we never be so entrenched in our ways that we actually lose track of God's way. Thanks, Frank, for this thought-provoking work of exhortation. You are a true teacher :)

I thoroughly recommend this and all other works by Frank Viola to anyone who cares to maintain a relationship with God more than just following religious or cultural tradition.
.............................................................................................

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Frank Viola

and the book:

Rivise Us Again

David C. Cook; New edition (April 1, 2011)

***Special thanks to Audra Jennings, Senior Media Specialist, The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Frank Viola is a frequent conference speaker and author of numerous books on the deeper Christian life and church restoration, including Reimagining Church, Finding Organic Church, Jesus Manifesto, (coauthored with Leonard Sweet), and the best-selling From Eternity to Here.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Revise what it means to live the Christian life. As believers, the Word of God gives us a script for experiencing life as God intended. Yet our environment, our culture, and our religious traditions often distort our scripts. We are all in constant need of revising the scripts that we live by.

Author Frank Viola believes we need to revisit and revise what it means to live the Christian life. Drawing from his rich background in ministry, Viola shares how believers can benefit from rescripting their lives in ten key areas. Written in a conversational tone and filled with practical insights, Revise Us Again is ideal for any reader who longs to follow God's original script for living.

Product Details:

List Price: $16.99

Hardcover: 176 pages

Publisher: David C. Cook; New edition (April 1, 2011)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 9781434768650

ISBN-13: 978-1434768650

ASIN: 1434768651

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

GOD’S THREE-FOLD SPEAKING

REVISING THE LORD’S VOICE

There’s a very obscure passage in the Old Testament that sheds light on how God communicates His mind to His people. It’s found in Jeremiah 18:18:

The teaching of the law by the priest will not be lost, nor will counsel from the wise, nor the word from the prophets.

The ancient Hebrews divided the Old Testament up into three sections. The first section is called the Torah, or the Law. It includes the first five books of the Bible. The steward of the Torah is the priest.

The second section of the Old Testament is the Prophets. It includes the major and minor Prophets and the historical books. The steward of the Prophets is, of course, the prophet.

The third division of the Old Testament is called the Wisdom literature or “the Writings.” It includes Psalms, Ecclesiastes, Proverbs, Job, and the Song of Solomon. The steward of the Wisdom literature is the sage, or wise man.

These three sections of the Old Testament represent the three major ways in which God communicates His mind to His people.

Where We’ve Been

One of the greatest obstacles to laying hold of God’s mind is our religious background. Virtually every Christian has at some point been given a narrow lens through which they interpret Scripture, the Lord, and the Lord’s speaking.

Therefore, it’s critical that we understand that we all have been given such a lens. The following list shows how incredibly powerful our religious backgrounds are in shaping these lens.1 The list is obviously tongue-in-cheek, but I believe the truth is not far off.

Suppose that you are traveling to work and you come to a stop sign. What do you do? Well, that depends on your religious background. For example …

1. A fundamentalist, taking the text very literally, stops at the stop sign and waits for it to tell him to go.

2. A Christian who follows the traditions of his denomination does not bother to read the sign, but she will stop if the car in front of her does.

3. A seminary-educated evangelical preacher might look up stop in his English lexicon and discover that it can mean: (1) something which prevents motion, or (2) a location where a train or bus lets off passengers. The main point of his sermon the following Sunday on this text is: When you see a stop sign, realize that it is a place where traffic is naturally clogged; therefore, it’s a good place to let off passengers from your car.

4. A legalist does one of two things. She takes another route to work that does not have a stop sign so she doesn’t run the risk of disobeying the law. Or she may stop at the stop sign and pray, “Thank you, oh Lord, for your commandment to stop.” She waits three seconds according to her watch and then proceeds. She also keeps a condemning eye out to see if others run the stop sign.

5. A New Testament scholar notices that there is no stop sign on Mark Street, but there is one on Matthew Street and Luke Street. He then concludes that the ones on Luke and Matthew Streets were copied from a sign on the street that no one has ever seen called “Q” Street.

6. A prophetic preacher of end-time theology notices that the square root of the sum of the numeric representations of the letters S-T-O-P (which are sigma tau omicron pi in the Greek alphabet), multiplied by 40 (the number of testing), divided by 4 (the number of the earth) equals 666. Therefore, she concludes that stop signs are the dreaded mark of the beast, a harbinger of divine judgment, and must be avoided at all costs.

7. A Charismatic/Pentecostal will stop only if he feels led of the Spirit and the sign is a rhema word and not a logos word.

8. A prosperity preacher will stop at the sign, make a positive confession about stopping, and offer “the prayer of Jabez,” concluding that God must make her rich.

9. An Arminian believes that if he runs the stop sign he will lose his salvation. So with fear and trembling he works hard at stopping at every stop sign.

10. A Calvinist believes that God has predestinated her reaction to the sign. If she runs the stop sign, she was never saved to begin with. If she stops, she was elected before creation.

11. A Southern Baptist believes that God wants him to stop at the sign, but he will still be saved if he does not. For if you once stopped, you have always stopped.

12. Upon seeing the stop sign, a libertine begins to sing “Hallelujah, I’m free,” pushes her foot down on the pedal, and runs the stop sign at full throttle. She then gets run over by a Mack truck.

13. A liberation theologian believes that stop signs should stop only those who are of the elitist, wealthy class. But the poor are free to run them whenever they wish.

Silly, yes, but this list makes a point. We all have a lens that we inherited from our religious background. And we are conditioned to interpret the Scripture, the Lord, and His speaking through that lens.

How God Communicates His Mind

The Torah contains the foundations on which the community of God’s people are built. The Torah includes God’s enduring moral principles—the standards that spring from His very nature. These standards do not change nor can they be compromised. In the Old Testament economy, the priest was the person who taught the Torah.

The Prophets section often seems to contradict the Torah. The prophet is the person who enters the community of God’s people and causes an abrasive, disruptive upheaval of what the community believes or practices.

The prophet challenges the people’s response to the Torah, which is often a legalistic or libertine response.

In reality though, the prophet really doesn’t contradict the Torah. He contradicts the people’s response to it. We are fallen creatures and sometimes turn the standards of God into dead rituals. At other times we misapply or disregard them altogether. The prophet is needed at such times.

The Wisdom literature contains something that we Christians often do not have a great abundance of—wisdom. Wisdom is knowledge gained through experience. It also includes a predictive element.

Because of his long experience, a wise person can detect patterns. He’s able to foresee outcomes (Luke 11:49; Prov. 22:3).

A wise person may make a statement like this: “What you just said sounds really good, but it’s not going to work, and here’s why …”

The instrument of the Wisdom literature is the sage, the wise old man with the gray head. The sage is sought after for his wisdom because he has the experience of life. As a result, he can peer into the future.

The priest is authorized by the authority of the Torah that contains what God has previously spoken. The prophet is authorized by the present burden of the Lord that the Holy Spirit lays upon him. The sage is authorized by his experience and the fruit of his wisdom, which can be evaluated by the future outcome of his counsel (Luke 7:35).

Put another way, the Torah looks to the past and asks, “Is this scriptural? Is this right?” The prophet looks to the present and asks, “What is God saying to us right now? What is His present leading?”

The sage looks to the future and asks, “How will our present actions affect the future? Is this decision wise or foolish?”

To put it in the language of the Bible: The priest asks, “What do these stones mean?” (Josh. 4:6). The prophet asks, “Is there any word from the LORD?” (Jer. 37:17). And the sage asks, “Where can wisdom be found?” (Job 28:12).

The Inherent Dangers of Each

Each form of God’s speaking has its own dangers if not attended to by the other forms. If a church is conditioned to recognize the Lord’s will through only the form of Torah, it will become ritualistic at best or judgmental, self-righteous, and legalistic at worst. It will need the prophetic word as well as the word of wisdom to balance it.

A church that recognizes the Lord’s will via only the lens of the prophet will be unstable and erratic at best. At worst, it will be deceived. This is because a prophet’s revelation can be bogus. Thus, a prophetic word should be tested by its faithfulness to what God has already said (i.e., Torah) and by its future outcome (i.e., wisdom).

If a Christian or a church recognizes the Lord’s will through only the lens of wisdom, it will be given over to human reasoning and empty philosophy. True wisdom will always be faithful to what God has already said (i.e., Torah), and it will be responsive to the in-breaking of an authentic prophetic word.

Consequently, we should embrace all three forms because God provides guidance through each.

Unfortunately, our religious backgrounds condition us to recognize the Lord’s will through only one form. Those who have a fundamentalist background tend to recognize the Lord speaking through only the Torah. Guidance must contain a standard or principle of God, which usually has a chapter and verse attached to it. But this narrow lens blinds them from recognizing God’s guidance through the other modes.

Those who come from a Charismatic/Pentecostal background tend to recognize the Lord’s voice through only the prophetic word. It must be peppered with, “I sense the Lord saying” … “I have a word from God” … “The Lord showed me” … “Thus saith the Lord.” Appeals to Scripture or wisdom have very little registration.

Those from mainline denominations tend to recognize God speaking through whatever sounds reasonable. Wisdom is their language. What God has said in the past often carries little weight. And prophetic revelation is suspect.

Put differently, those who prefer Torah-speaking are thinkers. Those who prefer prophetic-speaking are feelers. And those who prefer wisdom-speaking are doers. Three temperaments, three denominations, and three forms of God’s speaking.

It’s worth noting that our temperament is connected to our religious background. We are typically drawn to the denomination or movement that matches our temperament. Doers tend to gravitate toward denominations like Baptist. Feelers tend to gravitate toward the Charismatic/Pentecostal movement. And thinkers tend to gravitate toward fundamentalist denominations, Presbyterian, or Anglican churches. Parachurch organizations and many large movements usually combine two of these temperaments, typically thinkers and doers or feelers and doers. I admit these are generalizations; however, I believe they are very close to reality.

Whether we realize it or not, our religious background is a major hurdle that stands in the way of laying hold of the mind of Christ individually and corporately.

Accordingly, God in Christ by the Spirit discloses His will through all three modes.

The Mind of Christ

In 1 Corinthians 12:1–2 (NKJV), Paul writes:

Now concerning spiritual gifts, brethren, I do not want you to be ignorant. You know that you were Gentiles, carried away to these dumb idols, however you were led.

Notice that Paul mentions “dumb idols.” What exactly is a dumb idol? It’s not an idol with a low IQ. A dumb idol is an idol that doesn’t have the power of speech. It’s a mute idol.

Before the Corinthian believers came to Christ, they were following pagan gods that didn’t possess the power of speech. These gods were mute. They were dumb. Paul goes on saying the following (this is my paraphrase of verses 3–6):

Remember how you served mute idols? Well, now you serve a God who speaks, and He speaks through you and your fellow members of the body of Christ. For example, when you say, “Jesus is Lord,” God’s own Spirit is speaking through you. There are varieties of spiritual gifts, but it’s the same Spirit. There are varieties of ministries, but it’s the same Lord. And there are varieties of effects, but it’s the same God who is working through them all. The one true God speaks through a variety of different ways via His one body.

Notice that God communicates in a variety of ways, but it’s the same God who is doing all the speaking. And God does that speaking through His body, i.e., a local assembly.

Consequently, the mind of God can be made known through only a corporate body of believers.

Jesus Christ has the power of speech. He’s not a dumb idol. And when He speaks, He reveals the mind of God. But Christ never reveals His whole mind through an individual. It takes a body of believers to lay hold of His mind together.

Hence, Paul says in 1 Corinthians 2:9–10:

However, as it is written: “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him”—but God has revealed it to us by his Spirit. The Spirit searches all things, even the deep things of God.

Consider the following words:

Eye has not seen. He’s speaking of a single eye. A solo eye has not seen.

Ear has not heard. An individual ear has not heard.

And it has not entered into the heart of man. A single heart hasn’t received.

Now listen to Paul in 1 Corinthians 2:16 (NKJV):

For “who has known the mind of the LORD that he may instruct Him?”

This is an absurd question. But notice the singular: “Who has known the mind of the Lord that he [singular] may instruct him?”

The answer is obvious. No individual has God’s mind. But then Paul makes this remarkable statement: “But we [plural] have the mind of Christ.” We, corporately—as His body—possess the mind of Christ. Incredible.

The mind of Christ is discoverable. Jesus Christ is not a dumb idol. He has the power of speech. He desires to speak and reveal His thoughts. But the mind of Christ is a corporate discovery. It’s a corporate pursuit. It’s not the property of any individual. It’s the property of the body of Christ working together to secure it.

As a result, all three ways of God’s speaking in Christ (Torah, prophetic, and wisdom) should be held in tension. The reason? Jesus Christ incarnates all three modes.

Jesus Christ is the real Priest as well as the Torah itself.

Jesus Christ is the real Prophet as well as the prophetic word.

Jesus Christ is the real Sage as well as wisdom itself.

Our Lord reveals His will to and through a local community of believers when they are seeking to lay hold of His mind together. The local assembly, which includes all the believers, is the vehicle through which God has chosen to disclose His mind. Through some believers, He speaks as Prophet. Through others, He speaks as Priest. Still through others, He speaks as Sage.

The speaking may sound different, but it’s the same Christ working through each one.

The Lord helps us to revise our ears so that we may learn to hear the voice of the Shepherd through each one of His sheep.

Weds 13th April - The Well

2011-04-14T14:48:00.000+10:00

Tues 12th April - Faithless

2011-04-13T10:58:00.001+10:00

Mon 11th April - Get Up

2011-04-13T10:58:00.000+10:00

Fri 8th April - Solitude

2011-04-09T13:02:00.000+10:00

Weds 6th April - Don't Give Up

2011-04-09T13:00:00.000+10:00

Tues 5th April - Stay With Me

2011-04-06T10:11:00.000+10:00

Mon 4th April - Teach Us

2011-04-06T10:10:00.000+10:00

Fri 1st April - Does This Offend You?

2011-04-06T10:08:00.000+10:00

24-7 Rewind + Prayer Spaces Extra

2011-04-04T08:35:00.000+10:00

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Thurs 31st March - Life

2011-04-01T09:58:00.000+11:00

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Wed 30th March - Don't Worry

2011-03-31T11:22:00.000+11:00

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Tues 29th March - Son

2011-03-30T10:47:00.000+11:00

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Mon 28th March - Upside Down

2011-03-30T10:32:00.000+11:00

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Fri 25th March - Alone

2011-03-25T11:21:00.000+11:00

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Thurs 24th March - Homeless

2011-03-25T08:24:00.000+11:00

Listen Online...

2011-03-24T14:31:00.001+11:00

Anyone who cares...

You can now listen to talks from MBC from our webpage. My most recent one, based on Daniel chapter 6 from Sunday March 20th 2011, is there for anyone who'd like to hear it. Follow the link here- Maitland Baptist Church Sermon Downloads.

Weds 23rd March - Doubt

2011-03-24T13:55:00.000+11:00

Tues 22nd March - Hunger

2011-03-23T12:53:00.000+11:00

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Mon 21st March - My Son

2011-03-23T12:48:00.000+11:00

Rend Collective Experiment - Come On (My Soul) OFFICIAL

2011-03-21T11:46:00.000+11:00

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Fri 18th March - Seven Miles

2011-03-21T11:20:00.000+11:00

hope

2011-03-18T13:24:00.000+11:00

"We only have hope, thats all we've got left."

(Mr Takahashi- Japan tsunami survivor)

The song & video "Hope" (c) Dave Ogilvie, my lil bro. Proud I am. :)

Why Art Matters

2011-03-18T09:42:00.001+11:00

M.a.W. musicians, artists, writers: Why Art Matters to Christians

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Thurs 17th March - Shoes Off

2011-03-18T09:29:00.000+11:00

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Weds 16th March - Jesus Wept

2011-03-17T11:35:00.000+11:00

Permission to Speak Freely

2011-03-15T23:04:00.000+11:00

Reading lots lately (which is a pleasant throwback to fond memories of simpler times- pre-social networking media & shorter attention spans)...Right now I'm nearing the end of my THIRD BOOK for the week (I know, I can hardly believe it myself)...and I'm LOVING it.

The book is called "Permission to Speak Freely", by Anne Jackson. The subtitle is "Essays and Art on Fear, Confession and Grace". In it the author boldly dares to ask, "What is the one thing you can't say in church?"

If you want to know more about the book and the movement, go here.

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Tues 15th March - Come Follow Me

2011-03-15T22:45:00.000+11:00

Love. Story. Community.

2011-03-15T00:33:00.001+11:00

The Conversation that is Life.

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Mon 14th March - My Eyes Have Seen

2011-03-15T00:08:00.001+11:00

Spring Rain

2011-03-14T15:30:00.000+11:00

Technically, it's not Spring here right now. Actually it's the opposite...it's Autumn. But it feels like Spring to me! And as a follow-up to my last post called "November Rain" I thought in contrast I'd call this one "Spring Rain". It feels like Spring to me right now because the things stirring in me in the past little while feel like determined flowers re-emerging through cracks in snow drifts after an exceptionally furious winter...(geez, trying to be poetic, much?)

I'm struggling right now to put into words what is transpiring in me even at this moment. You know that feeling you get when someone has captured your imagination and you're breathless & wordless? This is something like that, but a little less Mills & Boon...

OK I'll try...I think what's happening to me is that I'm starting to understand (as in sense with all my being, rather than simply give mental assent to) at least a small part of God's great love, for ME. It might sound odd for someone who works in the church to be saying that, but let me put it this way: there's a difference between believing in something, and actually putting your faith in it, right? Like, for instance, you might believe you could walk across a tightrope, but until you actually step onto that thing and begin to walk, you are not putting any faith in it- it's just a mental exercise. This is a bit like that, only a little less science lab...

All my life I've given mental assent to the idea that I'm loved by God. But has that idea really captivated me? To a certain degree, yes it has. I have been and am being transformed. But today what I've realised is that certain attitudes I carry, certain guilt from the past, certain sins long-forgiven...I'm still toting these things around with me like someone who doesn't understand God's great love.

I'm beginning to see that if I would be consumed by this ferocious love, and not just hold it in my head as a nice idea to live by, that all this rubbish would be burnt away, that I would be different. That I would be completely made new. Isn't that what God's saving grace is all about, after all?

To quote Brennan Manning once again, I love what he says in "The Furious Longing of God"...

Is the kingdom that He proclaimed to be nothing more than a community of men and women who go to church on a Sunday, take an annual spiritual retreat, read their Bibles every now and then, vigorously oppose abortion, don't watch x-rated movies, never use vulgar language, smile a lot, hold doors open for people, root for the favourite team, and get along with everybody? Is that why Jesus went through the bleak and bloody horror of Calvary? Is that why He emerged in shattering glory from the tomb? Is that why He poured out His Holy Spirit on the church? To make nicer men and women with better morals? The Gospel is absurd and the life of Jesus meaningless unless we believe that He lived, died, and rose again with but one purpose in mind: to make brand new creations... (p. 124-125)

This is what I'm beginning to understand, after 35 years of thinking I knew God's love. Once again it comes from "The Furious Longing of God"...

It is sad to say, but the familiar phrase "the unconditional love of God" has become cliche, a true but trite expression devoid of any real meaning. Words, like anything else used too often, soon depreciate in value, lose their edge, and cease to bite into our lives. When phrases...trip too easily off the tongue, the speaker's ego may experience a temporary rush of exhileration...but his heart remains unchanged.

How do I know this? Well, I have long been smitten with concepts. They engage my mind, rustle my thought process, and stir my emotions. Unconditional Love as a concept has transported me to intellectual nirvana, motivated the reading of at least fifty books on related themes, and deluded me into believing that I was there. Until along came a day when I was apalled to discover that nothing had changed. It was all a head trip. Lofty thoughts and impersonal concepts left my lousy self-image intact and my way of praying unchanged.

Until the love of God that knows no boundary, limit, or breaking point is internalized through personal decision; until the furious longing of God seizes the imagination; until the heart is conjoined to the mind through sheer grace, nothing happens. The idolatry of ideas has left me puffed up, narrow-minded and intolerant of any idea that does not coincide with mine.

The wild, unrestricted love of God is not simply an inspiring idea. When it imposes itself on mind and heart with the stark reality of ontological truth, it determines why and at what time you get up in the morning, how you pass your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, and who you hang with; it affects what breaks your heart, what amazes you and what makes your heart happy. (p. 75>)

Have I encountered this furious love of God? Like I said, to some degree- yes. Could I still be holding him at arms' length, though- content with a love that merely tickles my intellect with juicy concepts, and brings little transformation in the way I live and interact with the world? Absolutely.

I carry in my person too much self-loathing. I bear on my back too much grief and guilt. My thinking, my attitudes and relationships are all marred by these burdens, and I want to give over to the furious love of God. I want life where even today there is death in my thinking & self-concept. I want to be like the flower emerging after winter's thaw. I want the Spring rain of God's love to bring me back to life. So come and consume me, Beloved. I want to be able to declare, as Augustine did,

Quia amasti me, fecisti me amabilem...

In loving me, you made me lovable.

November Rain

2011-03-14T14:20:00.000+11:00

Sometime back in November last year, I felt the urge to begin writing my life story. It didn't get off to a particularly good start! I just uncovered this "from the vault" (permission to laugh granted, it's pretty sad, in a funny way...you know what I mean!)

Where to begin? You might say, “…the beginning…”, to which I would reply…”the what…?” I simply don’t know how or where or even with whom it all began, this thing so vaguely and flippantly referred to as “My Life”.
One thing I know, and that is that I should never write when I’m excessively tired, because I can’t stop myself from being melancholy. But these days, that would mean I couldn’t write at all because I seem to be always excessively tired. In fact, I haven’t written much at all in quite a while– no blogging, no journaling, nothing more than a status update here and a tweet there. But most of those aren’t even my own original thoughts but quotes of someone else’s brilliance, to hide the lack of captivating thought being generated in my own mind.
I’m really tired. I know I said that but I just wanted to make it really clear. And I’m tired on more than just a physical level. I’m tired even of writing this, and I’ve barely begun.

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Fri 11th March - Magnify

2011-03-11T22:22:00.000+11:00

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Thurs 10th March - Immanuel

2011-03-11T08:48:00.000+11:00

Have You Ever Lost Faith?

2011-03-10T16:00:00.002+11:00

I bought a book this week called "Permission to Speak Freely" by Anne Jackson. I've just skimmed through bits of it so far but I'm excited to begin reading it. The book is the result of a question- and the myriad answers received- posted by Jackson on her blog. The question was: "What is the one thing you feel you can't say in church?"

Looking at this book & some of the raw & honest responses the author got from readers reminded me of something similar I felt inspired to do last year. I was given a topic to speak on one Sunday night at our church. The topic raised questions of faith & doubt, and I thought, "I can either ignore the elephant in the room and just go into this topic with blinders on, or I can go deep and explore this painful topic. So I emailed a whole range of people, asking, "Have you ever lost faith? If so, why?"

The responses that flowed in over the next few days were saddening and staggering. There's literally a world out there of people who, once believing in something (or Someone) have since given over to disbelief & despair, for many reasons.

This began for me what I think might just be at least part of my life's mission...to ask hard questions for which there may, in the end, be no answer other than faith. That's the only conclusion I came up with that particular Sunday (You can read my talk from that Sunday here)

I'm on a quest to understand grace. I like the kinds of questions being asked by authors like Jackson & Philip Yancey; questions like "What Good is God?" and "Where is God When it Hurts?"

I don't know how many people actually read this blog but I wonder, for those of you who do, what is your perspective on faith & doubt? Have you ever lost faith? For what reason/s? Do you believe in God- and if so, where do you think He is when it hurts? I have my thoughts, but I want to hear yours. You can comment me back, or email k.r.jimmy@gmail.com

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Wed 9th March 'Make Way'

2011-03-10T15:31:00.002+11:00

I want to know Christ: Prayer Spaces for Lent trailer

2011-03-09T08:57:00.002+11:00

A Theology of Brokenness- Thoughts on Grace & Godliness

2011-03-07T13:08:00.002+11:00

"If the Catholicism that I was raised in had a fault...it was precisely that it did not allow for mistakes...If you made a mistake, you lived with it...A serious mistake was like a permanent stigmatization, a mark you wore like Cain. I have seen that mark on all kinds of people: divorcees, ex-priests, ex-religious, people who have had abortions, married people who have had affairs...countless others...there is too little around to help them. We need a theology of brokenness. We need a theology which teaches us that even though we cannot unscramble an egg, God's grace let's us live happily and with renewed innocence..."
(Ronald Rolheiser, "Forgotten Among the Lilies", from Celtic Daily Prayer, Finan Readings, March 7th)

A theology of brokenness...I like the sound of that. Who wouldn't? Who among us is without stain? I wasn't raised a Catholic but I was raised with a similar kind of profound sense of good & bad, right & wrong, guilt...I know what it is to bear the stigma that results from "serious mistakes"- I've made my fair share. But again- who hasn't?

There is still, even in this, as William Barclay called it, "permissive society", such a lack of grace at times for people who fall short of accepted norms- be it inside the church or anywhere. Where do we get off thinking we have any right to point the finger at anyone else, as if we have it altogether and don't ever screw things up? There is a line to walk, there is a standard to aim for, but in terms of walking alongside other pilgrims on this journey, is it more productive to hurl abuse & criticism at someone who "strays", or would a more gracious approach better achieve our aim? Who among us responds well and with dignity when we feel we are being harshly judged by someone no better or more holy than ourselves?

This morning in our staff devotions we looked at Galatians 6, and I guess that's where my musings about grace today began...

"Brothers, if someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore him gently..." (Gal.6:1)

I love what Brennan Manning wrote in the introduction to his book, The Furious Longing of God...

I'm Brennan, I'm an alcoholic. How I got there, why I left there, why I went back, is the story of my life. But it's not the whole story.

I'm Brennan, I'm a Catholic. How I got there, why I left, why I went back, is also the story of my life. But it's not the whole story.

I'm Brennan, I was a priest, but am no longer a priest. I was a married man, but am no longer a married man. How I got to those places, why I left those places, is the story of my life, too. But it's not the whole story.

I'm Brennan, I'm a sinner, saved by grace. That is the larger and more important story. Only God, in His fury, knows the whole of it.

Growing up in the Protestant Evangelical tradition it's always troubled me, the way we inside the church seem to want to always "put on a happy face", to appear as though we don't have any struggles, as if that might impress people "on the outside" somehow, and attract them into our circles. Whenever I've looked in on "our circles" from the outside, that kind of facade doesn't appear enticing or attractive. It seems unattainable, unreal. And I think, "If you've gotta be that perfect to fit in around those people, then I will never be good enough."

I remember clearly a time when I was involved with a Christian missions organisation, and my personal life was a mess. There was pressure being put on me externally to change some of my behaviour that wasn't good for the organisation's image. Smoking was a major part of it. I sat on the curb down the street from my house one night (I always smoked- was always asked to smoke- well away from the houses associated with the mission, so as not to give outsiders a false impression of the type of lifestyle they wanted to represent). I sat looking at the cigarette between my fingers, crying. I was crying because I loved to smoke. I was crying because I knew I had to stop, for a number of reasons. Health, obviously, was a major reason. But it was also important to me to remain involved with this mission for a while longer. I didn't agree with everything they stood for but I knew that despite this, they had something valuable to offer me. I knew that if I didn't quit, staying would not be an option for much longer. It was then, as I sat thinking about all this, that an old man in an apartment above where I was sitting began to cough incessantly. It sounded like death- it was a smokers' cough, there was no mistaking it. It seemed to me like a message from God, somehow.

Sitting there, looking at my cigarette, listening to that man cough, thinking about the two pathways I could choose between that very night, I prayed what was probably the most honest prayer of my life up to that point. It went something like this:

God, I just want to know that you will love me, whether I smoke or not. I need to know that whatever I choose to do right now, whichever path I go down, you will always, unconditionally love me.

It was a cry for grace. It was a faint hope that maybe God would extend to me what people had always seemed to withhold when I needed it most- mercy. Compassion. Forgiveness. And yes, grace.

Since that day I've sought to live out my own faith with as much integrity as I can. I try to be real and honest and raw, and give others the freedom to do likewise. I guess you could say I have adopted a Theology of Brokenness.

I know I'm not alone in this desire for authenticity in my faith & in the image I project to those around me. My prayer & my hope is that increasingly, more of us will find the courage to be real, honest and raw in this way, that we would stop pretending to be the ones who have it all together because of some misapprehension that the church should appear that way in order to "give God a good image". I'm reminded of U2's song, "Stand Up Comedy", and the line that says, "Stop helping God across the road like a little old lady." If our God is a consuming fire, wouldn't we be better off on our knees, confessing that we are weak, rather than arrogantly trying to appear strong and together?

Even the apostle Paul, in his second letter to the people of Corinth, seemed to encourage this Theology of Brokenness...

"But [the Lord] said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."

2 Corinthians 12:9-10 NIV.

I know there is a fear for some, of embracing this kind of theology. The fear is that we might forget what is right, what is good, and get lazy in our efforts to live lives that really are blameless (as opposed to lives that merely appear to be). But I'm not talking about ditching the pursuit of godliness in favour of embracing our own humanity. What I am talking about is, while we go about pursuing godliness, let's extend grace to other pilgrims and leave the "judging" to God himself.

Creative Subversion

2011-03-02T10:02:00.000+11:00

"The Desert Fathers' creative subversion, their simple and radical renunciation, cut powerfully through the subtleties of religion and reminded ordinary people that behind all the argumentation was the simple gospel challenge: 'If anyone wants to be a follower of Mine; let him renounce himself, take up his cross and follow Me.' (Matthew 16:24)"

- William McNamara, Celtic Daily Prayer, Finan Readings, March 1st

So I Stand By The Door...

2011-02-28T16:22:00.000+11:00

Those who know me well, know how much I love my Celtic Daily Prayer Book. Some may say I love it too well, and they may be right. But of all the "daily devotional" books I've tried to use over the years to guide my thinking and on a daily basis to point my thoughts to God, this is the only one that has ever resonated with me.

Anyway, having said that, I haven't read it for the last week or so, and today I decided to read what I'd missed...and was astounded at the relevance of what was in this past weeks' "Finan Readings", in the form of a poem by Samuel Moor Shoemaker, to my current "state". If you've read any of my recent blogposts (not including the book reviews) you'd have noticed there's been a bit of searching going on- for vision, for a grasp of "why am I here?" (the latter being not so much an existential dilemma but just pertaining to my current physical location on the planet...)

Man I'm writing like a...scholar...today...sorry for all the lofty rhetoric...on with the show, then.

I stand by the door.

I neither go too far in, nor stay too far out,
The door is the most important door in the world-
it is the door through which folk walk when they find God.
There's no use my going way inside and staying there,
when so many are still outside, and they, as much as I,
crave to know where the door is.

And all that many ever find
is only the wall where a door ought to be.
They creep along the wall like blind men,
with outstretched, groping hands,
feeling for a door, knowing there must be a door,

Yet they never find it...
so I stand by the door.

The most tremendous thing in the world
is for people to find that door- the door to God.
The most important thing anyone can do
is to take hold of one of those blind, groping hands,
and put it on the latch- the latch that only clicks
and opens to that person's touch.
People die outside that door, as starving beggars die
on cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter-
die for want of what is within their grasp.
Others live, on the other side of it- live
because they have found it,
and open it, and walk in, and find Him...
So I stand by the door.

Go in, great saints, go all the way in-
go way down into the cavernous cellars,
away up into the spacious attics-
it is a vast, roomy house, this house where God is.
Go into the deepest of hidden casements
of withdrawal, of silence, of sainthood.
Some must inhabit those inner rooms,
and know the depth and heights of God,
and call outside to the rest of us how wonderful it is.
Sometimes I take a deeper look in,
sometimes I venture a little farther;
but my place seems closer to the opening...
So I stand by the door.

There is another reason why I stand there.
Some people get part way in and become afraid
lest God and the zeal of His house devour them;
for God is so very great, and asks all of us;
and these people way inside only terrify them more.
Somebody must be by the door to tell them that they are
spoiled for the old life, that they have seen too much;
once taste God, and nothing but God will do any more.
Somebody must be watching for the frightened
who seek to sneak out just where they came in,
to tell them how much better it is inside.

The people too far in do not see how near these are
to leaving- preoccupied with the wonder of it all.
Somebody must watch for those who have entered the door,
but would like to run away.
So for them, too, I stand by the door.

I admire people who go all the way in.
But I wish they would not forget how it was
before they got in. Then they would be able to help
the people who have not yet even found the door,
or the people who want to run away again from God.
You can go in too deeply, and stay in too long,
and forget the people outside the door.

As for me, I shall take my old accustomed place,
near enough to God to hear Him, and know He is there,
but not so far from others as not to hear them,
and remember they are there, too.

Where? Outside the door-
thousands of them, millions of them.
But- more important for me-
one of them, two of them, ten of them,
whose hands I am intended to put on the latch.
So I shall stand by the door and wait
for those who seek it.
'I'd rather be a door-keeper...'
So I stand by the door.

(Samuel Moor Shoemaker- Celtic Daily Prayer, Finan Readings, February 23-29)

F.I.R.S.T. Blog Alliance Wildcard- "Meet Mrs. Smith" by Anna Smith

2011-02-24T01:11:00.002+11:00

As a wife and mother involved in various types of ministry locally and globally, I'm really interested in hearing Anna Smith's take on her experiences...

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Anna Smith

and the book:

Meet Mrs. Smith: My Adventures with Six Kids, One Rockstar Husband, and a Heart to Fight Poverty

David C. Cook (February 1, 2011)

***Special thanks to Audra Jennings, Senior Media Specialist, The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Anna Smith is a wife and mother of six children. Her husband Martin was the lead singer for the band Delirious? for over sixteen years. Smith and her husband founded CompassionArt, a nonprofit organization built to raise money through art and music to help orphans and the poor around the world. Meet Mrs. Smith is Smith’s first book. She and her family reside in the seaside village of Rustington, England.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Are you tired of just feeling bogged down by your daily life? Do you wonder if your life will have an impact on your family or, even yet, the world? Come join Anna Smith as she encourages you to live a life of abandoned love for Christ.

Meet Mrs. Smith is Anna Smith’s life story—the story of how God used her, alongside her husband Martin, to raise a family, live a wild life for God, launch the worldwide phenomenon that is Delirious?, and start a ministry to orphans around the world. With a good dose of spiritual insight, parenting advice, and wry humor, Anna shares the hard lessons she’s learned. She also shares stories from behind some of Delirious?’s most popular songs while encouraging readers with her warm authentic voice.

Product Details:

List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 240 pages
Publisher: David C. Cook (February 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1434702030
ISBN-13: 978-1434702036

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Introduction

The phone rings just as I’m straining the potatoes and promising the waiting tribe that supper’s nearly ready.

“Indi, get back to the table.… Noah, try not to spill the water, my love.… Elle, can you encourage Levi not to arch his back in the high chair?”

Chaos.

I’m feeling slightly nauseous, and I wish the pregnancy hormones would take mealtimes into consideration—it’s far too inconvenient for me to have my head down over the toilet right now. I hear ringing from the other room.

I rush to pick up the phone.

“Helloooo, Anna here.”

“Hi, love, how are you?” Martin says.

“Yeah, good … general supper-time craziness, but we’re all fine. How’s your day been? What’ve you been up to?”

As he replies, I sense something different in Martin’s voice tonight. I don’t know, he seems bothered or troubled … just different. But there’s no time to chat.

“Can’t you phone in a couple of hours?” I ask him.

“Probably not,” he replies. Later I guess that he’ll be onstage or fast asleep in his hotel—I don’t know; I get confused with the time zones. He starts to talk about everything he’s experienced in India and how his heart’s caving in at the poverty he’s seeing.

What can I say?

“Sorry, honey, must be awful,” I say. “Right, got to go, the broccoli’s disintegrating.”

My words sound pathetic. And I can’t quite hear him anyway as the line is breaking up.

“Bye, I’ll call again soon, I love you.”

What horrible timing! As Martin wrestles with the impact of this great poverty he’s seeing and experiencing, I’m here trying to hold down the fort. He’s getting “all emotional” about someone else’s kids, but all I can think of in that moment is how I need him here. Our children miss their daddy.

But every trip to India seems to ratchet up the intensity inside Martin—something’s breaking his heart: He’s moved, challenged, and provoked by everything around him there. What’s God saying? What’s shifting? Martin’s seen poverty before, but this is something else altogether. It’s another telephone call we’ll have to resume later when the kids are in bed and my head’s clearer.

The thing is, I want him in the kitchen with me now, pouring out his heart to me, like a proper married couple going on this journey of discovery together.

Not tonight though. He’s somewhere in India, and I’m watching Pop Idol on TV.

~~~~~

We have been on a journey of so many paradoxes.

I’m on this adventure with my kids and my husband, Martin, who toured the world with the band Delirious? On this path I discovered both the joys and the chaos of family, but along the way, we

found that our chaos was little compared to the chaos of the poverty in the world.

The clash of emotions and heartbreaking stories led my children and me to a rubbish dump, a slum where people live, outside Hyderabad, India.

What am I doing here? I thought as I stood there in the refuse and dirt. Why did I bring my children to this place? Then I saw the children run up to us with huge smiles on their beautiful faces—and I wept when they sang to us.

As I said before, this has been a journey of paradoxes.

The book in your hands is about this exhilarating, enriching, exciting, and downright exhausting journey. It’s about being a wife, mother, friend, auntie, and sister. I’m a mother to six children, and due to that fact, it’s a miracle that this book has actually been published and that I’m not yet wearing a hairnet to bed and putting my dentures in a plastic cup! Rather than wait until my life calms down, I want to tell someone my story while I am right in the middle of it.

This book is about not wishing away the time or waiting until the house is empty before we look out to the world beyond our own. It’s about seeking God in all of the mess and exhaustion.

On this path, we look back on key events as turning points. For me, one of those moments came fifteen years ago. That moment accelerated my passion to embrace life to the fullest and birthed a band that played to hundreds of thousands of people around the world and spread a powerful message to the nations.

After three house moves, seven pregnancies, numerous flights with children in tow, many trips to India and Africa, dozens of tour buses, hundreds of gigs, thousands of earplugs in little ears, and too many dirty nappies (some might call them diapers!) to mention, I’m here to share a little of my story, from the sublime to the ridiculous.

Thanks for coming along!

—Anna

Chapter 1: The Longest Night

Little did I know that one moment would change everything.

I sit motionless in the passenger seat. Frightened and disorientated, my muddled brain tries to make sense of my surroundings. Slowly I turn my head and look across at Martin lying semiconscious, his inert body collapsed in a heap next to me. His head is slumped against the steering wheel, his foot in perfect synchrony, pressed down flat on the accelerator.

I don’t know what to do.

My head feels fuzzy and my thoughts move in slow motion.

~~~~~

At the time it seemed like a great idea to drive through the night. Waking up at home sounded sweet. There’s nothing like your own bed, and after spending a week cooped up in a leaky caravan, sleeping under what I can only describe as soft cardboard, my bed called to me.

The green Ford Sierra did us proud, and the thought of seeing my sister’s baby, Abigail, who’d been born ten days early (which was the motivation for our early departure), gave Martin and me lots to chat about on the way. My brother Jon fell asleep as soon as we left the campsite, so we had the whole journey to talk while eighties classics pumped out of our dilapidated stereo.

The A1 motorway continued on forever.

Martin had endured a hectic week, as part of his job was recording live music and seminars at conferences around the country, and this week we’d been at Grapevine in Lincolnshire. So it wasn’t long before we’d exhausted all conversation and stared at the road, willing the journey to come to an end. Jon snoozed away in the back of the car—he looked peaceful, albeit a tad uncomfortable, curled up next to a load of musical equipment, trying to muster up an agreeable position with the seat belt across his face.

Five hours later we drove onto the A259 to Littlehampton. Waves of excitement came over me at the thought of seeing baby Abigail. I remember the delight of seeing the familiar Windmill Pub with the patrons long gone and the feeling that we were the only ones awake in this sleepy village. We were so nearly home.

The next few moments would change our lives forever, but the God who does not slumber watched over us.

~~~~~

My eyes photograph the scene. One by one, images develop to make sense of things: a green car turned the wrong way round; a crushed and crumbling brick wall; smoke swirling in the foreground; the driver motionless, covered in blood. My other senses start to kick into gear: Intoxicating fumes creep into my nostrils; the hiss and crackle of the engine whisper in my ear.

These impressions become clearer, and my thoughts accelerate—I need to get Martin and Jon out of the car. I desperately kick my chair back, but it stubbornly refuses to move. Every part of me clambers and scrambles to escape, but I can’t get free.

“Someone call for help!” The words tumble out of my mouth and race into the cold night air, frantically searching for help.

Finally, I manage to force open my door. I tentatively step out of the car. My two-inch plastic heels crunch underfoot as fragments of glass break like icicles with every step.

I nervously survey the scene, but the dark gives nothing away. A ten-minute eternity passes. I wait, a thousand thoughts sparking a thousand fears. Suddenly, two fire engines and an ambulance careen around the corner, and the stillness is swallowed by a voracious urgency: lights and people, questions and confusion.

~~~~~

I’m ushered into the ambulance, the paramedics buzzing around me, assaulting my weary brain with questions. Jon somehow managed to get himself out of the car, but now he’s dressed in a green surgical

gown, hallucinating and singing “Yellow Submarine,” the shock of it all messing with his reality.

But what about Martin—what about my husband?

Their answer is a constant, unsatisfying repetition: “We are doing all that we can.”

The firefighters cut the roof off the car, the harsh grinding of metal against metal, battling to free the fragile body inside. I’m riveted to the action but can’t watch—my heart needs protection, but my head doesn’t want to miss any important detail. Fear and panic and emptiness and shock wrap around me like an oppressive shelter. Then in the midst of all the craziness, I see my dad running toward me, abandoned in panic. All I can think is that I need to tell him it’s going to be all right. He holds me; he’s shaking with fear, a thousand questions falling from his trembling lips.

The hours drag on heavily. People move around me in a haze, and nothing seems to change. I feel exhausted, confused, scared, and numb. The firefighters finally cut Martin free from the wreckage,

and they are relieved to find that his feet are still attached to the legs that have been hidden from sight for two hours. Now that he’s free, the paramedics are desperate to get him to the surgeon to repair his

broken and battered body.

Blood is everywhere.

As we’re leaving I hear one of the firefighters asking about the fourth passenger. Where is she? he asks. The blonde girl in the backseat?

To this day no one knows who she was. Either Jon had smuggled a new girlfriend home, or heaven made sure we weren’t alone on this night.

Maybe she was our angel.

F.I.R.S.T. Blog Alliance Wildcard- "Delirious" by Martin Smith

2011-02-23T13:07:00.001+11:00

I've been a big fan of Deliriou5? for years and have become a fan in recent years of Martin Smith's journey, if that makes sense. I'm excited to read this and hear more about that journey...ALSO *spoiler alert* watch this space in the very near future for a preview of Anna Smith's (Martin's wife) book, "Meet Mrs. Smith".

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Martin Smith

and the book:

Delirious

David C. Cook (February 1, 2011)

***Special thanks to Audra Jennings, Senior Media Specialist, The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Martin Smith is a singer, guitarist, and songwriter from England. He was the front man for the Christian rock and worship band Delirious? for seventeen years. Delirious? released numerous records, with some of their songs hitting the top twenty UK charts. In their career, Delirious? played many major conferences, festivals, events, and crusades. They won numerous Dove Awards, were nominated for a Grammy Award, and produced songs such as “I Could Sing of Your Love Forever” and “Did You Feel the Mountains Tremble?” Smith collaborated with the other members of Delirious? for the book I Could Sing of Your Love Forever and with other artists to complete The Art of Compassion book and the CompassionArt CD and DVD.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Martin Smith, one of the men behind the modern Christian worship movement, challenges readers in his autobiography, Delirious: My Life, Mission, and Reflections on the Global Worship Movement. Martin Smith fell in love with God early in his life. By his teen years, he was captivated by songs that expressed true intimacy with God. As he grew, he married a pastor’s daughter and became involved in his church’s outreach events. He began playing his own songs with a band at the events. Then, in 1995, Smith was involved in a near-fatal car accident. During his weeks of recovery, he decided to become a full-time musician. His new career quickly took off and he became the lead singer for the band Delirious?. Touring with groups such as Bon Jovi, Bryan Adams, Matchbox Twenty, and Switchfoot, Smith’s life became a whirlwind of balancing work and family.

Product Details:

List Price: $14.99

Paperback: 224 pages

Publisher: David C. Cook (February 1, 2011)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1434702375

ISBN-13: 978-1434702371

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

PARADOX

I never really knew what people meant when they said that their hearts had been broken. It had always seemed to me that people were exaggerating, that the description was all a bit too over the top. But on January 10, 2007, I found out exactly what it feels like to have your heart so comprehensively messed with that you know beyond all doubt, the rest of your life will be different as a result.

For me, though, it wasn’t that my heart broke. It was still beating—and faster than ever. It felt more like my heart had been ripped out. My head, on the other hand—now that was well and truly broken. Thoughts flew out like water from a broken pipe, and nothing made sense anymore.

I was a mess.

I sat in a hotel, waiting in the room for someone to take us to dinner. Nothing new there. But nothing could ever be the same. After what I’d seen that afternoon, I knew that if my world as Martin Smith carried on without any change, I’d be making the biggest mistake of my life.

We’d been in India for a day or so. In Hyderabad the band and I played to a crowd made up of four hundred thousand people, quite a few cows, and a whole lot of duct tape holding the PA system together.

Delirious? had toured India before, and we’d seen poverty around the world: We’d visited slums in Mexico and seen it from car windows on numerous drives to and from airports, but in India we always felt the greatest impact. Knowing that even our suitcases—not including the stuff inside them—cost more than a year’s wages for some of these people was enough to wipe the smiles off our faces.

Mumbai was different. The sounds, smells, and general chaos overwhelmed the senses, and somehow the children’s begging felt more intense and disturbing there than anywhere else. Every time we stopped at a red light and children approached the airtight windows of our cars, I wanted to empty my wallet and hand the contents over to them. It would have made the kids’ pimps happy, I suppose, and

I knew it was a bad idea.

So perhaps I should have known that I’d find it emotionally charged when we visited Prem Kiran, a project supported by Joyce Meyer Ministries that provides the children of prostitutes with food, education, and support. I should have known that their smiles and effervescent singing would lift my smile higher than the clouds, and I should have guessed that when we fed the children their lunch I would be fighting back tears.

But nothing could have prepared me for Farin.

You pronounce her name fa-REEN. For some reason she couldn’t stop looking at me all the time that she and the rest of the children sang.

I suppose I’m a little bit used to the “strangeness” of people looking at me, but this was different. At the same time that she was looking, God’s Spirit prodded me deep inside, taking my guts and wringing them out.

Once they finished singing and eating lunch, we spoke with the pastor. He told us that this project worked with more than seventy children, helping their mothers and families as well. He shared that Farin’s mum—like so many of the others there—worked as a prostitute.

I felt the air leak from my lungs.

Pastor Umale went on talking. This was a red-light district, and the chances were good that, yes, Farin would end up working as a prostitute just like her mother. Seeing as she was eleven years old then, that day might not be far off.

I looked back at Farin. She was so much like my eldest daughter, Elle: same age, same height, same way of moving, same big eyes, and a similar smile. But Elle’s future is one of possibilities and peace. Farin’s is a parent’s worst nightmare that never ends.

Pastor Umale invited us to walk across the street and visit the homes of some of the children and their mothers. We trod over the open sewer that ran between the brick and tin buildings; we wandered inside when invited and stood around looking like fools. There we were, a rock band that shouted about our faith in Jesus, standing in one room where the whole of life was played out: sleeping, feeding, playing, and working.

What did our faith mean in that place? We could take to the stage in front of hundreds of thousands, but what did our faith mean as we stood next to a bed on which a prostitute sold herself for a few rupees, and beneath which her children hid, in fear and silence, sometimes even drugged so that they would sleep? What did our faith mean, and what impact could it make? Were we out of our depth, or was that just the sort of place—and were those just the sort of people—that Jesus would have been found amongst, dealing in compassion, transformation, and restoration?

Our trip ended, and we got back on the bus. But it wasn’t enough to drive off and forget about it. It wasn’t enough for life to go on as before.

Back in the hotel all I know for sure is this: I am dying inside. Something has happened and I cannot find peace. All I can think of is Farin and the horrors that lie ahead unless some minor miracle takes place.

What would I do if she were mine?

The question makes me stop. What do I mean if she were mine? I realise the truth in that moment: There is no if in this scenario—I feel like I am Farin’s father and I am as responsible for her future as

I am for my own daughter’s.

——

That day we spent as a band in Mumbai changed things for me, though perhaps not in the way that I first thought it would. As I grabbed a few snatched phone conversations with my wife over the coming days, all I could tell her was that something amazing, disturbing, and beautiful had happened. I tried to tell her about Farin, but the words came out all wrong.

It wasn’t until the band and I got home that I had any sort of plan in place and the time and words to convey it to Anna.

“We need to adopt her,” I said. “We need to bring her back here to live with us, to be a part of our family.”

Anna was very good with me. She knows me well enough to let me talk and get the ideas out before those become actual plans, but she also knew that something different was going on. This wasn’t just

another case of Martin getting excited by someone he met at the end of a long tour.

But as I thought about it more and more, I grew even more convinced. We needed to adopt this girl. And the more I thought about it, the more I missed her. It was as if my heart—so blatantly ripped out from my chest upon seeing Farin for the first time—had now been put back but was wired up all wrong. I was constantly aware of the fact that she was still back there, living in a slum, surrounded by poverty and danger. This little girl was at risk, and I was doing nothing about it, other than looking at the photo of her that I’d placed on my piano while failing to put these feelings into song.

Eventually Anna laid it all out for me. My kids—the five we had then, sharing the house I’d been floating around in ever since I’d returned from India—needed me, but I wasn’t there. Physically I might have been in the room, but that was about it. I was drifting away, and it was starting to become a problem.

I wondered if I was having a breakdown. I struggled to concentrate and found it hard to connect with my loved ones, and all I could think about was this girl I’d only ever met once. What was going on?

Within a couple of weeks the air began to clear. The songs started to come—one about Farin herself and the other about her mother and her friends—and the adoption forms that I had ordered remained unopened on our kitchen table. Bit by bit I was starting to return to my body, to reconnect with the family, to come back to “normal,” whatever that meant. Being in a band means that life is a strange dance. You travel a lot and develop a life made up of stages, studios, and interviews that is far removed from the realities of family life. You have to work hard to smooth the transition between these two parts of life.

But coming back from India the landing was even bumpier.

Part of me liked that idea of everything getting back to how it had been. Part of me thought it was the most frightening thing that could ever happen.

Six weeks after meeting Farin, I found out that Farin’s mother had changed her mind. At the start she had been happy for Farin to leave India, for us to adopt her and bring her to England with us. Then she changed her mind. She couldn’t let Farin go.

How could I blame her? Honestly, I felt partly relieved, partly upset and sad. But then, finally, something like progress presented itself to Anna and me: If we can’t adopt Farin, then let’s take care of her and the other children in her neighbourhood. The pastor told me what the project in India cost to run, and we decided to contribute: We wanted to help with the care and education of all seventy children. After all, if we couldn’t bring Farin home, we could certainly help care for her along with all of her friends.

——

That is not the end of the story.

And it certainly isn’t the beginning either.

The day I met Farin was one of those points in life when so many threads come together. It was a junction box, with so many different experiences and influences colliding, and so many outcomes blossoming as a result. And part of the reason I wanted to write this book was to share a little of that bigger story.

But before we jump in, I need to do some confessing. Starting with a story like meeting Farin can sound impressive. That line about having my heart ripped out and my head broken makes it sound like I’m halfway towards being a saint. Don’t get me wrong—the feelings were absolutely genuine, but those were rare. On so many of the other trips our band made to projects that worked amongst the poorest people, life often went back to normal after a while.

I know lots of people who have experienced the same thing. Maybe you have too. After seeing the firsthand reality of what life is really like for so many of our neighbours here on the planet, you feel stirred up. You try your best, you try to respond to the compassion stirring within you. Most artists and creative people are by nature sensitive to suffering, and we often want to jump in and help, without thinking about whether there’s a lifeline. And even if you’re not a creative type, having faith in Christ more than sets us in line with compassion as a way of life.

Well, that’s the theory. Or, at least, that’s the start. What comes after the outpouring of emotion or the awkward feeling when you look in your wallet, that’s where I think we make the hard choices.

For those of us living in the West, when we come face-to-face with poverty it can be a problem. Especially when a trip feels more like a holiday romance than a blinding light on the road to Damascus.

For example, we fly into India, stay in a nice hotel, go visit these projects, go back to the hotel, have a shower, and eat a nice meal in a restaurant, and then, if we’re lucky, we get an upgrade on the flight home. In our culture, where selfishness is at worst a character quirk and at best a sign of inner strength, there is a real disconnect between head and heart, between passion and lifestyle. So we can be engaged in an issue, we can use our voices as our currency, and we can give cash. But the greatest tragedy is that we can come home from the short-term mission trip and get straight back into our everyday life and forget.

Not that there’s anything wrong with everyday life. For me that might range from driving one of the kids to a dance lesson today and piano lessons tomorrow, to taking out the rubbish bins; from getting the car fixed, to thinking about where we want to go on holiday next summer. Everyday life for me might be planning what I’m going to be doing this time next year or thinking about how to release these songs within me for others to hear. You can forget the pain, and you can forget the faces. That breathless feeling you get when you’re surrounded by life-and-death poverty can evaporate like the vapour trail left by the jet as you fly home.

I found this all to be true after my early trips to India. I didn’t like the way I, like the Israelites, could so quickly forget about what God had done just days before. It might not have been a miracle like the parting of the Red Sea, but facing children whose lives were on course for abuse, neglect, and horror stirred my compassion in powerful—but sadly, kind of temporary—ways.

Eventually I found what I thought was a perfect remedy for my wandering heart. Taking photos, and lots of them. All around my house now are pictures of many of the children—God’s children—through whom I have glimpsed more of life than I had known. As I sit at the piano or eat breakfast, all I have to do is look up to be reminded of their faces and to reconnect with their stories.

The truth is, though, that while the photos are a neat little device that I came up with, God had a better plan for helping me hold on to the sense of purpose that rose up after those days of seeing poverty up close. And that plan was Farin.

In one of those wonderful, God-only ways that showed how well my Father in heaven knows me, God broke into my heart and left it in pieces. Through Farin God made it all personal. And once that happened, there was no way I could ignore His call.

I’m not trying to sound like a saint again, but it’s true that one day in Mumbai back in January 2007 made the rest of my life different. Of course I still have one foot in my everyday life—the world in which I find myself getting more excited about the World Cup than about rescuing kids from sex trafficking. There are many, many times when I feel as though I just don’t know how to do this thing called compassion when there’s so much geography in the way. All those old temptations to go back to normal. But Anna and I have come so far down a new track that I’m not so sure I remember what “normal” looks like. I don’t think we can ever really go back to life being our own again.

So here we are, at the start of this book. Read it, and you’ll see that I’ve made plenty of mistakes. I’ve tried to be honest with you throughout—honest about the good as well as the bad.

But, thanks to the grace of God, this book is about more than just my failings. It’s about an amazing journey that I’ve been on. I’ve seen miracles, heard armies of Christians cry out in faith, and seen what happens when ordinary men and women decide to live their faith out loud.

And I hope that this book helps you unleash more of the same.

Lofty Rhetoric

2011-02-21T16:35:00.000+11:00

Thanks to Facebook with it's status updates and Twitter with it's 147-character Tweets, I can no longer tolerate reading, you know, actual words...I mean wordy words...I have no patience for lofty rhetoric, or even an entire article...Give me the headlines, people. There was a point at which this annoyed and frustrated me, but I think I've finally succumbed to it, resigned myself to it, as my current state of being.

I have "episodes" or "flashbacks", if you prefer, when I am able to sit for more than 5 minutes and digest something of a little more substance than a Tweet...although usually it's someone's blog that I've discovered via a link in a Tweet...

I'm saying all this because I've realised today that I am currently "reading" (and by reading I mean I have begun to read at some point) approximately 13 books. Thir-TEEN.

I read an interesting article last year in Relevant Magazine about this phenomena...however I couldn't find it to include in this blogpost...

I did find this one though

http://www.relevantmagazine.com/god/deeper-walk/features/18082-short-attention-span-faith

And it looks interesting as well...although I haven't actually read it yet... *winks*

Loitering With Intent

2011-02-17T13:08:00.000+11:00

I heard about a Salvation Army officer who was sent to work in the Western Suburbs of Sydney, who instead of doing what others would have done in his situation (start a regular Sunday gathering and then invite/expect people to come), went (and still goes) intentionally into his neighbourhood and does what he calls "loitering with intent".

I like the sound of that.

We expend so much of our energy & resources on programs & buildings and such...things of an attractional nature, with an inherent expectation that people should "come to us" ("us" being the church), rather than doing what Jesus said all along...

"Go into all the world and tell them the good news, helping them understand how to do life better." (the Kaz revised version).

I guess the necessity, if you're going to approach ministry like this beautiful Salvo guy, is to know what your "intent" is...which begs the question, "What really matters (in the art/act of winning people to Christ)?"

...Do we want to change people?

...Will they be expected to dress/act/look/speak differently if they buy into what we are offering?

...Will they feel loved unconditionally, then...or will they feel judged?

...What do we value more- our own comfort or that others be saved (from whatever hopeless situation they might be in)? Or if you want me to be more direct: Do we want them to become replicas of ourselves so that we feel we can relate to them better and are not made to feel awkward, or are we truly willing to present the "come as you are" gospel Jesus preached?

I gotta get on with some other stuff for now but I just felt the need to vent...

Leadership thoughts...

2011-02-17T10:34:00.001+11:00

Yesterday I watched a DVD interview with Jackie Pullinger (author of "Chasing the Dragon", and probably other books for all I know)...It was part of a Leadership series. The interviewer asked her something and in the course of his question referred to her as a "leader", to which she responded, "I don't see myself as a leader...I'm just somebody who does."

It may not seem like a profound statement to some but it was extremely profound to me.

This year I find myself in the peculiar position (for a youth pastor) of not having any programs to run. It's actually exactly where I wanted to be, so in that sense it's great. But if you've read a couple of my recent posts you'll know it's also caused me a bit of stress, not knowing what to do with myself, finding it hard to focus & settle down.

But in amongst that "lost-ness", I've been loosely stringing together some thoughts about leadership, as I want to begin more intentionally encouraging the other leaders at our church working with youth. To that end I've begun to look at Jesus' style of leadership as He journeyed with his disciples.

The quote from Jackie Pullinger was enlightening for me, something of an affirmation of things I'd been thinking, because it sounded to me like something Jesus might have said about His journey with the disciples..."I just do what I see the Father doing..."

It goes hand in hand also with something I read in my "Celtic Daily Prayer" book the other morning...

"Notice that not once did Jesus make His disciples pray. He just kept praying until at last they could contain their hunger no longer and asked Him to teach them how to pray. The question came from the twelve, indicating they were now ready to listen and to hear..."

(Celtic Daily Prayer, Aidan Readings, February 14th)

Jesus most certainly was/is a leader, but not in the "top-down", autocratic sense we have traditionally viewed leadership. He was a leader in the "Upside Down Kingdom" (which I'm in the middle of writing a fictional short story about)...He spoke of the first being last and the last being first, and other such things that make no sense in our egocentric, power-grabbing way of thinking.

I'm starting to ramble again because I'm thinking of about 3 things at once so I'm going to stop there for now and get a cup of tea (one of the 3 things I'm thinking about), and get on with the other things. More later...

F.I.R.S.T. Blog Alliance

2011-02-17T10:07:00.000+11:00

It's been a while since I've "toured" any of the books featured in the "F.I.R.S.T." Blog Alliance. Not because I didn't want to, just didn't make it a priority and was busy elsewhere.

I have mixed feelings about this one, cancer and healing and forgiveness and all are pretty touchy subjects...But I thought I'd post it anyway :)

Here is this week's F.I.R.S.T. Wildcard Tour...

.........

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Rev. Dr. Michael S. Barry

and the book:

The Forgiveness Project: The Startling Discovery of How to Overcome Cancer, Find Health, and Achieve Peace

Kregel Publications (December 22, 2010)

***Special thanks to Cat Hoort, Trade Marketing Manager, Kregel Publications for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Rev. Dr. Michael S. Barry is the author of four books to encourage and strengthen patients and their caregivers in their battle with cancer, including The Forgiveness Project: The Startling Discovery of How to Overcome Cancer, Find Health, and Achieve Peace (January 2011, Kregel Publications). Dr. Michael Barry joined the Cancer Treatment Centers of America as their Director of Pastoral Care at Eastern Regional Medical Center when it opened in November 2005.

His journey with Christ began in his late twenties, in the midst of a successful business career in Texas. In his mid-30s, he responded to God’s call to ministry. Dr. Barry is an ordained pastor in the Evangelical Presbyterian Church, having served several Presbyterian churches in Arkansas, Texas and Illinois.

Dr. Barry currently serves as the principal investigator for the research project Release! which focuses on the topic of forgiveness as it relates to cancer patients. He is a featured seminar speaker on topics including “Spirituality and Health” and “Forgiveness: Healing for the Body and Soul.”

His philosophy of caregiving for cancer patients is based upon the Christian concept of joy and is the subject of his book, The Art of Caregiving.

Married and the father of two, he received his undergraduate degree from the University of Texas at Austin, his master of divinity degree from Princeton Theological Seminary in 1990 and his doctor of ministry degree from Fuller Theological Seminary in 1999.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

All religions value forgiveness, but only Christianity requires it. Internalizing anger is destructive to our spiritual health and can destroy families, marriages, and even churches. But what about our physical health? Is there a relationship between a spirit of unforgiveness and cancer? Between forgiveness and healing? How do you really forgive?

After thorough medical, theological, and sociological research and clinical experience at Cancer Treatment Centers of America (CTCA), author and pastor Michael Barry has made a startling discovery: the immune system and forgiveness are very much connected. Through the inspiring stories of five cancer patients, Barry helps readers identify—and overcome—the barriers that prevent healing and peace. See how a breast cancer patient named Jayne experienced spiritual and physical renewal when she learned to forgive. Meet Cathy whose story illustrates how forgiveness can positively change relationships. Be inspired by Sharon’s story of spontaneous remission. With each true account comes proven strategies, tested and used by CTCA, that readers can implement to find peace with their past, relief from their hatefulness, and hope for healing.

Competing titles may talk about forgiveness, but none specifically address the connection between forgiveness and physical health or offer forgiveness as a specific step toward healing from cancer. The Forgiveness Project presents scientific findings in easy-to-understand, accessible language and offers practical steps to help Christians let go of past wrongs and find peace.

Product Details:

List Price: $14.99

Paperback: 208 pages

Publisher: Kregel Publications (December 22, 2010)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 0825426561

ISBN-13: 978-0825426568

AND NOW...THE SECOND CHAPTER:

Chapter 2

Jayne

“A feeling of lightness”

Everyone says that forgiveness is a lovely idea until they have something to forgive.

C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Among the more dramatic miracles I’ve witnessed is the one experienced by Jayne Rager, which is described in this chapter. No story incorporates the principles of finding forgiveness more than hers. She is the poster child for finding and living in freedom.

After she developed cancer, she learned how to battle her way back into good health, leaving no stone unturned. She sought out every possible advantage in her fight against cancer, including the benefits of forgiveness taught at Cancer Treatment Centers of America.

Today, she eats a healthy macrobiotic diet, exercises regularly, and even does chin-ups in her living room. (Can you do a chin-up?) Jayne has a publishing contract for a book she’s writing, and a Dateline NBC program about her tragic experience in Mexico.

Here is her story.

In June 2007, on a little-traveled country road less than a mile from their home in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, Jayne Rager Garcia Valseca and her husband, Eduardo, were surrounded by armed men and dragged from their Jeep at gunpoint. Eduardo was struck on the head with a hammer. Injured and frightened, the couple were forced into another car, their wrists and ankles bound with duct tape and pillowcases pulled over their heads.

The day hadn’t started like this, of course. Summer vacation was just around the corner, and the Valsecas and their three children were looking forward to the break. The family lived on a ranch just outside the small town where Jayne and Eduardo had founded a not-for-profit elementary school for the town’s children—including their own. They dropped their kids off at school that morning, and on the short drive home their lives changed forever.

Jayne’s journey—at least as it applies to the topic of this book—begins here, at the depths of despair and sadness. And I don’t think it will ruin the story to tell you that her journey has brought her to the emotional heights of forgiveness, which she describes as a feeling of lightness.

She certainly had a lot to forgive. About twenty minutes after the abduction, she was dropped off on the side of the road with only a ransom note to keep her company. “We have your husband,” it said in Spanish. Her husband was held captive for nearly eight months. He spent much of the time in a box no bigger than a small closet, with just enough room to stand up or lie down. He was kept naked on a hard, cold, rough floor, tortured with beatings and with blinding light and loud music day and night. He was shot twice at close range, once in the arm and once in the leg. Several of his ribs were broken.

For her part, Jayne spent some thirty long weeks in a living hell. “There were moments when I thought that I couldn’t possibly go on,” she said. The criminals sent her photographs of her husband to coerce her into paying a multimillion dollar ransom, one that she couldn’t afford to pay even if she were willing to deal with these horrible men. Eduardo’s captors force him to write notes and make phone calls at gunpoint. Throughout the whole experience, Jayne “felt the deepest kind of hatred for these people and what they were doing to me and my family.”

Jayne says this of her thoughts of revenge: “These thoughts became fantasies of all of the creative ways I could torture them, even kill them. My favorite one was of being a giant, female Samurai, beheading all of them in one clean sweep of my sword. Thinking about these things brought me great pleasure.”

Not necessarily the best thoughts for a person to have, but certainly understandable for a woman in Jayne’s horrific predicament.

Although she felt helpless against these feelings and emotions, Jayne knew they would do her absolutely no good on the inside—especially since she had already battled cancer. Jane had been diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer in 2005. After going through conventional treatment (along with several holistic therapies), she found herself cancer free, full of energy, and happy to be alive.

The emotional trauma brought by the kidnapping threatened to change all that. “I knew the negative potential it could have,” she said. “I sought professional help, which was hugely comforting, but my anger, rage, and resentment were extremely hard to get a handle on.”

Jayne wasn’t terribly surprised when her breast cancer returned in the spring of 2008. She wasn’t surprised, but she was devastated. She was almost numb.

What else could be taken from me? she asked. Why me? How could all of this be happening to me?

Still, it made sense when she thought about all of the unresolved rage she had been clinging to for so many months. Jayne realized that in order to heal completely—physically, emotionally, and spiritually—she needed to go in a different direction than before. Her search for a holistic approach to cancer care led her to Cancer Treatment Centers of America’s Eastern Regional Medical Center in Philadelphia, and then to my office for a conversation about forgiveness.

The first time I met Jayne, she was wearing her trademark straw cowboy hat, the kind that rolls up easily on the side and can be shaped in a pointed fashion to easily cover her eyes. She wore a pink bandana underneath to mitigate the all-too-common embarrassment of losing her hair. Though she is Caucasian, her time in Mexico lent a Hispanic flair to her clothing. Almost always, she was able maintain her natural beauty and usually displayed the all-important cheerful, hopeful, and optimistic attitude that is, as the experts tell us, the telltale sign of long-term cancer survivors. As hopeful as she was, though, she was always rightfully concerned about her health and her future. Jayne wanted to live.

By this time, Eduardo had been released from his captors. At the end of January, two months before Jayne’s second diagnosis, she had recovered her husband—though when he returned, he was almost unrecognizable. His weight had dropped from 160 pounds to ninety.

Despite his injuries and depleted physical condition, Eduardo came back ready to jump into life, grateful for every breath of freedom. He was amazed that he could go to the refrigerator and eat whatever he wanted, that he could talk with others whenever he wanted—or at all. He was immensely thankful for everything that you and I take for granted. Strangely enough, he didn’t seem to have forgiveness issues with his captors. He wasn’t angry. His happiness to be alive, home with his family, and free, overrode any hatred, anger, or bitterness.

Jayne, on the other hand, was still stuck in her desire for revenge. She was angry and hated the kidnappers for what they had done to her family. She hated them with all her heart. Jayne had become so hardened that she hadn’t been able to cry for months. At times, she would shake uncontrollably, but she could no longer shed even one tear. She had been running on adrenaline, like a soldier on the front lines of battle, afraid that if she let her guard down all would be lost. Her way of processing things (or not processing them) was her way of surviving, and it worked—but it took a toll, and now she had breast cancer again.

As I talked with Jayne during our first meeting, it became apparent that she was aware of her need to forgive, her need to let go off all the negative emotion that she kept bottled up inside. But, like so many people, she hadn’t figured out exactly how. She needed more direction in order to apply it to her life in a new, permanent way—one that she hoped would help her along the road to health and wholeness.

In short, she needed to let go of her painful memories. She needed a clean slate.

I’ll let Jayne tell the next part of the story:

At one of our first meetings, we talked for about an hour. Dr. Barry heard my story and was compassionate, but to my surprise I didn’t get a whole lot of sympathy. Now, don’t get me wrong: he was sympathetic, but that was not his focus. I had kind of gotten used to having people cry when I told them the story; they would embrace me and mirror my feelings of injustice. Dr. Barry’s reaction was very different. It was nonjudgmental. The conversation was more about his wanting me to find peace again, which often requires learning to feel empathy toward the kidnappers. At one point, he even suggested that there might be some self-righteousness in what I was feeling. Well, that was the last thing I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear about how right I was to feel the way I felt, how wrong and despicable they were and that sooner or later there would be some sort of divine justice.

Jayne wasn’t having it. She told me how she had already tried to find empathy for the men who had taken so much from her. She had even tried praying for them. She had tried to find forgiveness in the midst of her pain, and had come up empty-handed.

“How in the world can I find empathy for these reptiles?” she asked me. “They ambush you, snatch you from your life and your family. We lost our home, our business. We were devastated financially. We had to flee the country leaving our belongings behind, everything we had worked for seventeen years and built as law-abiding citizens. I lost my health from the months of stress, and my children are traumatized. How can I possibly find empathy for these horrible individuals who kidnap, destroy families, and harm and kill people for money?”

I never suggested that life was fair or that forgiveness would be easy.

I reminded Jayne that, under the right circumstances, every one of us is capable of great evil. No one is exempt—not Jayne, not you, and not me. This isn’t easy to hear, of course, but it’s true.

“It’s not about them, Jayne,” I said. “They’ve moved on, maybe to the next victim. You’re still angry and they probably haven’t given you a second thought. You are only harming yourself by holding on to this. Forgiveness is a gift that you can give to yourself. As a concept, forgiveness transcends any particular religion. It’s not that it’s the Christian thing to do or the Jewish thing to do, or the Buddhist, Muslim, or Catholic thing to do. It’s the right thing to do, if what you want is the best chance of beating your disease. It’s the human thing to do.

“This is what you do can do for you, Jayne.”

I left Jayne with a homework assignment. I told her to go home and write a letter to the men who had kidnapped her husband and thrust her life into chaos. She didn’t have to forgive them right then and there, and she didn’t have to conjure up eloquent words for some grand pronouncement of empathy and understanding. She simply had to tell them how she felt.

Jayne’s letter was five pages long. “It felt good to write it,” she said. “It really did. It felt like some kind of emotional release. Like getting it off my chest.”

The next time I met with Jayne, we talked about the letter and about how she felt while writing it.

“It felt good,” she told me, “but I’d feel even better if I had an address to send it to, and maybe just a tiny bit of anthrax.”

Funny—and honest—but not exactly what we were working toward. I told Jayne that she should do some more writing. This time, she needed to work a little harder toward finding empathy. It isn’t something that comes from the head, I told her, but from the heart.

When she sat down to write for the second time, Jayne found herself stuck, not sure what she could say that hadn’t already been said. The cursor on the computer screen blinked at her silently. She decided to clear her mind and meditate on empathy. The answer eventually came to her, and when it did, it took a surprising and inspired form.

“I decided to use my creativity to create a mental movie set. I imagined the kidnappers as babies. I’m a mother of three and I adore children. I’ve often thought that all babies come into the world as blank canvasses. I’ve seen as a mother how they absorb, like little sponges, information about the world around them, about their environment. I saw these little babies in my mind, innocent and new, and then took them forward in the imaginary movie, creating what they must have gone through in order to ultimately become what they became, capable of doing what they do. I did this for each one of them, one by one. All seven of them.”

Suddenly—after an hour and a half of stretching her mind and creating a script by which she could understand these men and their motives—she felt it. “I felt an enormous wave of relief,” she said, “as if the weight of the world had just been lifted from my shoulders. It was amazing. I felt so much lighter.”

Sharon Whitmore, a fellow cancer patient, described the result of forgiveness in similar terms. “I woke up the next day and had this feeling,” she said. “It was a lightness. It was a lightness in my heart. You know how you have a heavy load? It didn’t feel heavy anymore.”

Moreover, and much to Jayne’s surprise, she felt the most relief in the places where she had the disease. “I had gotten it off my chest,” she smiled. “Literally.”

The process of releasing her anger made her ask some questions, as well. How much of this is the result of my own emotions? How much is the result of my own way of thinking and processing things?

Jayne felt amazing for the rest of the day. She had a smile on her face that could not be contained, and a lightness in her step that was noticeable to everyone around her. She had more energy. Her chemotherapy infusions felt easier to take. Most importantly, she had a renewed love of life and was ready to move into healing.

The lesson has stayed with her and has begun to change the way she lives her life in subtle and not-so-subtle ways.

“Now, I remind myself daily to apply forgiveness to my everyday life—while driving, while in the grocery store, and at home with my family. Every time I feel myself going into anger or judgment, I instead choose empathy and forgiveness. I get better at it every day. Doing this has been life-changing for me and has had a ripple effect in countless encounters.”

I believe that everyone can experience the same life-changing feeling of lightness that Jayne describes. It isn’t going to look the same for everybody—which is perhaps one of the reasons that forgiveness has been overlooked and underused in the recovery process. It can’t be precisely quantified. The notion that the process of forgiveness requires a predetermined number of steps in order to arrive at the final destination is a notion that must be put to rest.

In short, there is no easy equation that says

(action a + understanding b) x (y2 empathy)

————————————————————— = forgiveness

x days

Such equations simply do not exist. There are too many psycho-spiritual variables involved for a step-by-step process to work. This isn’t as easy as setting the clock on the DVD player; it’s more complicated than ensuring that, at the end of the cycle, your whites are whiter and your colors brighter.

In light of how complex we are as human beings, why would we expect our emotional experiences to be identical?

This does not mean, however, that there aren’t any common threads between individual stories. Even as religious conversion experiences are often quite unique, they also share similarities. So, too, is it with experiences of forgiveness.

For example, one woman tearfully approached me after a sermon I preached on forgiveness. She told me that when she learned I was preaching on forgiveness, she almost decided to skip church altogether. Instead, she decided to stay. During the sermon, “something happened.” What happened can be explained spiritually as a miracle, for anytime a heart hardened by hatred is transformed, suddenly or otherwise, into a heart of flesh able to forgive, it is a miracle.

On the other hand, I have worked for several months with people who were unable to get to first base. In one case, after months of work, a woman harbored just as much hatred against her father as when she had begun.

Just as no two stories are the same, no two paths to forgiveness are identical.

Your path to forgiveness may happen miraculously, a change of heart at a moment’s notice. Like Jayne, it may require a fresh and creative approach to discovering empathy. It may take days, weeks, months, or years. There is no way of knowing until you begin the process.

But I do know this: the most important variables are not the time and effort a person is willing to put toward forgiveness. Rather, it is motivation. It relies on whether or not a person has the wholehearted desire to let their painful past go. Without the firm desire to be healed and whole, a person could go through a hundred steps and spend many long months working at the issues at hand without ever experiencing the change of heart required for true forgiveness.

Forgiveness, then, is a process with a definable beginning and end; but the road linking them is often as distinctive as each individual.

The one trait that each story—including Jayne’s—seems to share is the strong desire to live. Like Jayne, you must be willing to do whatever it takes to increase your quality of life, even if it means facing your demons—and forgiving them. Jayne faced her demons with anything but a feeling of helplessness. Rather, she exuded resiliency, the ability to bounce back from her situation with a strength and personal power that came from a potent will to live.

Her life, as dark as it had become, now blossoms with numerous opportunities to speak before impressive audiences. It would be trite to suggest that there is a silver lining in every cloud; but if ever there was a dream that I hoped would come true, it is the dream that is coming true for Jayne, her husband, and their wonderful children.

We’ll close this chapter with some final thoughts from Jayne:

My gratitude to Dr. Barry and everyone at Cancer Treatment Centers of America is beyond words. I believe that going through the forgiveness process has been an essential part of my recovery, and I feel so blessed to have had access to this complete approach to healing from cancer from the inside out.

You know that vision quest I talked about?

2011-02-14T22:27:00.001+11:00

...I'm still on it.

You know that wordless state of angst I was in?

I'm still in it.

I'm finding it really difficult making the transition back into "normal" life after being away. But it's more than that. I also have given the reins of a couple of different things over to other people, so I no longer have a specific weekly "task" to keep me busy, and I'm therefore feeling a bit lost.

OK look I'll be really honest...I'm not even at the point of feeling lost. I'm the step before lost- where you think you might be lost but you kinda don't even really care.

Or maybe I'm just tired and the fact that my two small children are refusing to sleep before 10pm most nights is slowly driving me insane.

Whatever.

I don't care.

I really don't...because if I've learned one thing it's that life moves in cycles or seasons, and I know this season will pass.

(my son just stirred in his sleep)..okay maybe I care a little. I'm over this already and I want this thing to pass...

I'm fully aware that I'm rambling right now, too, in case anyone is reading this and wondering. The thing about that is, I've been staying away from my blog, waiting for something witty or worthwhile to write...but the waiting has been fruitless so, here I am, rambling :)

If it sounds like I'm in a bad way, don't fret. I'm really fine. I truly am tired, a little lost and maybe even a bit purposeless. But I also know a couple of other things:

Jesus is bigger than how I feel, and I can trust that He's got it sorted and He's looking after me.

It hurts my pride to have written such a bunch of rubbish as this, but I'm going to post it anyway for that very reason (because, as my mum would say, "I pride myself on my humility")

OK I will put us all out of our misery and end this rant there, or here...till I have something better to say on here, go over to my other blog ...there are some good things happening on there. Maybe I should take note...maybe there's a message for me in there somewhere.

Or maybe I should just go to sleep.

What's the word for...

2011-01-28T07:52:00.003+11:00

What do you say when you literally have no words in your vocab to express what you're thinking & feeling?

I know this "feeling" is normal, I've been here before...but that knowledge doesn't make it any easier to process.

My family and I have been to Vanuatu for a month over Christmas and New Year. Part of that time my daughter and I were involved in "Island Impact" camp & outreach with YWAM (Youth With A Mission). That part was pretty normal for me- "been there, done that" plenty of times. What wasn't normal, and what I'm finding hard to get over is the amazing overall time we had there, sharing deeply in the lives of our friends and family in Vanuatu. I feel closer to them all now than I ever have. I really feel part of the family, totally loved & accepted. It's not that I wasn't before, it's just that, for whatever reason, I was able to sense it for the first time.

The other thing that has profoundly impacted me is the group of people from our home church here in Maitland who came over to participate in Island Impact. Seeing the impression Vanuatu has made on them has touched my heart in a deep way.

This is my third day back in the church office and so far I've found it a struggle to focus, concentrate, and get things done that need doing. I know it's all part of the "re-entry" process, and I know I'll get past it. But part of me doesn't want to, for fear that I might lose something of what I'm experiencing inside of me now. I want to carefully process it and not have to rush through just to "get back on deck", so to speak. Which is partly why I decided to blog right now.

I've come to work early because I need to be home early today, and I'm feeling a little stressed because it's Friday and I'm not prepared for Sunday. But the fact that I'm stressed about that is bothering...did I really not learn ANYTHING in Vanuatu? NO...I think I did. It just might take a while to trickle through to my conscious from my subconscious.

I made a comment to someone while I was away that I feel like I'm just now beginning to really grasp and understand things from my Discipleship Training School- TWELVE YEARS AGO. I guess I'm a slow processor...?

Anyway, now that I've ranted a bit I feel slightly better. Perhaps if I go and eat some breakfast I'll feel better yet. Here's hoping...

Lukim yu.

100 Thanks

2010-11-25T09:37:00.002+11:00

We don't celebrate Thanksgiving in Australia. But I like to take the opportunity Thanksgiving affords to stop and be thankful for all the good things in my life. Today (and for the past few days) I've been really tired, grumpy and ungrateful, so I"m setting myself a challenge to blog at least 100 things I have to be thankful for. It's a self-discipline thing. Works better for me than lashing myself with a whip.....These are in no particular order.

1. my life, rescued more than once from potential disaster, and rescued eternally by my Saviour Jesus
2. my husband, in so many ways
3. my daughter...she brings grace, beauty, peace and compassion into my world. And her heart for justice inspires me.
4. my son...he brings joy, lots of laughter, fun & games, and enthusiasm into my world. My heart feels full when I look at my kids
5. Australia, it's vast and varying beauty, and it's multicultural falvour
6. Sydney, my place of birth. Lots of people don't like her, but I love her.
7. True friends- you know who you are.
8. Panadol for my headaches (might sound trivial but it sure isn't when there's none to be found)
9. Books & movies to provide respite & escape when needed!
10. MOVE Youth- the Friday night youth group I'm priveleged to be involved with. Those kids are amazing and inspiring
11. the DEEP end...the Thursday night young adult group I'm involved with. Always great conversations, questions, prayer times, ministry to each other, coffee, munchies, good times and growing times
12. the beach
13. the ocean- different from the beach...I mean being immersed in it or floating on top of it, feeling the power of waves, feeling cleansed and renewed by the energy of the surf
14. Jill's vegan Master chef cooking, sooo good!
15. Camembert and crackers
16. Vanuatu, for so many reasons...I'll dedicate this particular "thanks" to that moment you walk into arrivals at Bauerfield and you're embraced by the warmth as the scent of frangipanis and the music of stringbands wafts on the breeze
17. the fact that my family and I are going to Vanuatu in LESS THAN A MONTH!! For a WHOLE MONTH!!!
18. Curry
19. Belgian seashells
20. Guava juice
21. music

(starting to struggle...need caffeine! I'll be back!)

22. green tea
23. chai latte
24. thought-provoking questions & the stimulating discussions that follow
25. relevant magazine
26. neue magazine
27. Brazilian football
28. Brazilian fried rice
29. Indonesia
30. Queensland, especially the Sunshine Coast and Townsville
31. YWAM
32. YWAM teaching
33. YWAM lifestyle
34. 24/7 prayer
35. prayer...so real & powerful, I love what God has wrought in my life through nothing other than prayer... leaves me humbly admitting I'd be utterly lost without Him
36. my mum & her selfless ways. great example to me
37. my dad- his humour, his love of learning & books, his love & passion for knowing & serving God
38. church. yes, once you get past all the bull i actually love church. as in the people, not the institution. which pretty much separates the bull from the good stuff. (the bull being the institutionalised bits...)
39. travel- all of it. even waiting in line.
40. sleeping on woven mats on the floor with a cool breeze blowing over my face
41. waking up to the sound of chickens clucking, kids playing, and the smell of fresh baguettes, when I'm in Vanuatu
42. people-watching
43. writing in my journal
44. writing stories
45. writing about my experiences
46. the ability to write
47. the ability to make music
48. the fact that all our family is musical. Move over, Partridges...oh, wait. They already did.
49. quiet places like libraries, museums and art galleries
50. cafes by the river
51. walks along the river
52. friends with beautiful holiday homes who allow us to use them!
53. friends who don't (like us) live on the highway and invite us over so our kids can run free and play!!
54. supper nights at church, the conversations, good food, community
55. cafe nights at church, the atmosphere, the fun, the crowds, the interesting mash of people from all walks of life! THAT is church!
56. fellow youth workers
57. prayer warriors who fight on behalf of others. They are a special kind of individual.
58. TOMS shoes
59. Moselle clothing
60. three sixty project
61. Christian Surfers (the organisation and the individuals...!)
62. Remnant Skate Ministry in Mazatlan, Mexico
63. Vineyard music, especially the UK & Canadian varieties
64. Delirious- mentors to a new breed of worshippers, pioneers of a new prophetic sound in church music
65. Joyce Meyer's radio programme
66. Mark Driscoll
67. Timothy Keller
68. Matt Chandler
69. Dave Gibbons
70. Francis Chan
71. i heart Brazil & Slingshot Sao Paulo
72. baan jai diaow in Bangkok Thailand
73. Nimitmai Church in Taphraya Thailand
74. Northumbria Community's Celtic Daily Prayer book
75. Philip Yancey
76. Max Lucado
77. Stephen Lawhead
78. C.S. Lewis
79. Ada Bible Church & Jeff Manion
80. twitter
81. facebook
82. blogger
83. vegetarian lasagne
84. my Irish roots
85. my Italian roots
86. Mel Tierney's photography
87. my husband's guitar-playing
88. my husband's cooking
89. the way my husband takes care of our kids while I work at the church
90. the loyal girlfriend my brother has who may be one of the very few people who actually see who he really is (or could be)
91. the man my brother could, and WILL, be
92. my brother's kids
93. our Vanuatu family
94. sitting on woven mats under the trees on a Sunday afternoon with all the other mamas in Vanuatu
95. Geoff & Amanda Ogilvie and family
96. LOVE Vanuatu (YWAM)
97. Irises
98. tulips
99. clean, fresh, cold drinking water
100. waterfalls, and the quote about them from "The Power of One"- "A waterfall begins with only one drop of water, but look what comes of that."

And now that I've hit 100, I could go on! But I must get on with some other stuff, after I take some more panadol, for which I'm really grateful today (see point number 8) :)

Be blessed. Think about all that you've got to be thankful for and you'll realise just how blessed you are.

"For both of us, the closer we grow to Jesus, the more we realize many of our “needs” are really about our “wants.” No, we’re not too excited to admit this, but this is a reality that we’ve become aware of in our spiritual journey. Thankfulness can turn our hearts into a fertile soil for contentment to grow into full bloom. Learning to be content in every situation is a measure of spiritual maturity. The power of “I WANT” is weakened in the light of “I’M THANKFUL.”" - (Doug Fields & Matt McGill, Youth Ministry Daily)

instagr.am

2010-11-24T10:20:00.000+11:00

instagr.am

Why I Love Fasting

2010-09-12T07:37:00.004+10:00

At the risk of sounding like a freaky ascetic, or just a freak of any kind, I have to write about this...

I love fasting. It's a long-neglected discipline (in my life anyway) that I've just recently begun to take up again.

Prior to deciding I would fast again, I printed off reams of articles about prayer and fasting, with the aim of "doing it right", checking the intent of my heart and all that...I never read a word of it.

I've struggled in the past with the decision to fast (or not) because I'm always second-guessing my motives. Yet whenever I just "bite the bullet" and go for it, regardless of my intentions or motives, amazing things happen. Not amazing things like you can describe with words, really- rather more like a sense deep in my gut that something has changed, something has broken...something of profound significance. It's as if submitting my flesh to the spiritual discipline of prayer, via the denial of food, kind of forces me into a different place, where the Spirit of God is more free to move and work within me. It's like I'm giving Him permission.

So today is Sunday, and I decided late last night that I would fast from dawn to dusk each day for a few days.

I made the kids breakfast, switched my iPod to my Tunes for the Zone playlist, and sat down to listen.

An instrumental track came on by a group of indigenous musicians from Canada, and as it played my mind's eye went to another place altogether. I was standing in Heaven, and there was a whirlwind of colour and sound sweeping around where I stood. As I focussed my gaze I saw in the flurry people of all ethnic backgrounds dancing, smiling, singing, worshipping. And then my mind went to a passage in the book of Revelation...

The Great Multitude in White Robes

After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice:
"Salvation belongs to our God,
who sits on the throne,
and to the Lamb." All the angels were standing around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures. They fell down on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, saying:
"Amen!
Praise and glory
and wisdom and thanks and honor
and power and strength
be to our God for ever and ever.
Amen!"

Back in the room, I was overcome with something stronger than emotion, something that once again I struggle to put into words. If I had to describe it, I'd say that as I sat remembering the image of the dancing nations, I felt... homesick.

That's why I love fasting.

WHAT FATHERLESSNESS COSTS SOCIETY (Australia)

2010-08-28T10:01:00.004+10:00

Interesting article about the impact of fatherlessness on Australian society.. via the Australian Prayer Network this morning...

With Fathers Day just a week away, followed one week later by National Marriage Week, our feature article this month highlights the role both fathers and healthy marriages make in maintaining a properly functioning society as God intended. Editor.

WHAT FATHERLESSNESS COSTS SOCIETY

by Bill Muehlenberg. Bill Muehlenberg is a commentator on contemporary issues, and lectures on ethics and philosophy. His website CultureWatch is at: www.billmuehlenberg.com

A recent Melbourne newspaper article carried this headline: "Boys lack role models." The piece began with these words: "A decline in the number of male teachers is being blamed for rising youth violence. Just 28 per cent of state schoolteachers are men, down from 32 per cent 10 years ago. "Youth crime has soared in that time. Sex attacks, robberies, assaults and weapon offences have increased significantly, and psychologists and family groups told the Herald Sun the loss of male role models was an important factor." (Herald Sun, February 15, 2010).

May I suggest that these experts have got things only partly right? Yes, kids suffer when there are no male role-models around, and a lack of male teachers is indeed a worry. But this analysis simply does not go far enough. The real problem is more profound and of greater consequence. The real problem is boys lack fathers. The major cause of all of this is that increasingly children are growing up in broken homes or single-parent families, where no father is present. It is not just the lack of male role-models that is behind this rise in crime, anti-social behaviour and out-of-control kids.

The social science research on the importance of fathers is now extremely well-established, and quite convincing. Thousands of international studies have told us the same thing: children do better by every social indicator when a father is present. While single-parent families need all the help they can get, the truth is, children need both a mother and a father, and when one of these is absent - and it is usually the father - then kids are greatly disadvantaged, and can get into all sorts of strife.

Consider the issue that this Herald Sun newspaper article was talking about: youth violence. The evidence is conclusive: kids are more likely to become involved in violent, anti-social behaviour if they are raised without their biological father. Numerous studies have been undertaken which show a very real connection between delinquent and/or criminal behaviour, and broken families and father absence.

One study of 522 teenage girls, for example, found that girls in divorced families committed more delinquent acts (e.g., drug use, larceny, skipping school) than their counterparts in intact families. A family researcher examined a representative national sample of male and female youth aged 12-17 and found that adolescents in families where the father was absent were more likely to engage in deviant acts.

A study of street-gangs reveals this linkage as well. In an important book on the subject, sociologist Francis Ianni found that most gang members in America came form households where no father was present. A separate study of British communities found a direct statistical link between single parenthood and virtually every major type of crime, including mugging, violence against strangers, car theft and burglary.

Indeed, the very absence of intact families makes gang membership appealing. Many gang members view the gang as a kind of surrogate family. Often they have admitted, "It is like having a family." A recent New Zealand study found that 64.6 per cent of juvenile offenders had no birth father present.

A study reported in Psychology Today found that "90 per cent of repeat adolescent firestarters live in a father lacking constellation". A Michigan State University study of 72 adolescent murderers discovered that 75 per cent of them had divorced or never-married parents. A 1987 study by Raymond Knight and Robert Prentky of 108 violent rapists, all repeat offenders, found that 60 per cent came from single-parent homes.

One study tracked every child born on the Hawaiian island of Kauai in 1955 for 30 years. It found that five out of six delinquents with an adult criminal record came from families where a parent - almost always the father - was absent. An American author, reviewing the evidence, reports the following: "Poverty alone does not explain all of these effects. Indeed, poverty may not explain any of them." He cites a 1988 study which analysed victimisation data on over 11,000 individuals from three urban areas in New York, Florida and Missouri.

It arrived at this startling conclusion: the proportion of single-parent households in a community predicts its rates of violent crime and burglary, but the community's poverty level does not. Neither poverty nor race seems to account very much for the crime rate, compared to the proportion of single-parent families, the study found.

In Australia, a book on family matters by Alan Tapper highlights this connection between broken families and crime. In a study of rising crime rates in Western Australia, Tapper suggests that "family breakdown in the form of divorce and separation is the main cause of the crime wave".

A longitudinal study of 512 Australian children found that there are more offenders coming from families of cohabiting than married couples, and there are proportionally more offenders who become recidivists coming from families of cohabiting than married couples. The study concludes, "The relationship between cohabitation and delinquency is beyond contention: children of cohabiting couples are more likely to be found among offenders than children of married couples."

Those who work with juvenile offenders in Australia confirm these findings. John Smith of Care and Communication Concern in Melbourne has spent decades working with homeless youth and young offenders. He says that "almost 100 per cent" of these kids are from "single-parent families or blended families".

An American FBI officer who specialises in serial-killers has said that most of them come from a dysfunctional family with an absent father. A magistrate I happened to dine with not long ago told me that the overwhelming number of youth offenders he deals with in court come from broken homes and/or fatherless families.

Even researchers who are wary of making a connection between broken families and crime have conceded that some relationship exists between the two. For example, Demo and Acock, who reviewed dozens of studies on the subject, concluded: "A tentative conclusion based on the evidence reviewed here is that antisocial behaviour is less likely to occur in families where two adults are present, whether as biological parents, step-parents, or some combination of biological parents and other adults."

Strong connections between crime and family breakdown have been made by the Centre for Independent Studies in Sydney, which compared crime rates with out-of-wedlock birth rates from 1903 to 1993. It found that the "percentage of ex-nuptial births correlates significantly with both serious and violent crime at both one and two decades time lapse". Such evidence can be produced at length. Suffice to say that the social sciences simply confirm what most of us already know by common sense: when we raise a generation of fatherless kids we are asking for, and getting, real trouble.

By all means, we can seek to increase the number of male teachers in our schools. But far more important is to ensure, as much as possible, that every child grows up with his or her biological parents. Both mothers and fathers play a crucial role in the development and well-being of children. We owe it to our children to help make sure this a reality for them.
Source: Bill Muehlenberg - Culture Watch

Sunday Nite Live @MBC August 8th 2010

2010-08-10T10:40:00.002+10:00

Psalm 37- According to Hilary the Hiker

(Show slideshow + enactment of “Hilary the Hikerʼs Adventures in Llama-Land”)

Hilary* the Hiker’s Adventures in Llama-Land (Slideshow Script)
By Kaz Jimmy

Hilary the Hiker was off on an adventure. She was going to hike (funnily enough) through Llama-Land.

Llama-Land was a lovely place*, though not without its challenges.The llamas who inhabited the land were adorable, and everybody loved them.*

Not long after Hilary set off on her journey, she came across an obstacle…she had seen a job advertised, looking after llamas, no less, and she’d applied for it with enthusiasm. She was certain she’d get the job because of her general good nature and her prior experience* looking after kangaroos in Australia.

However, Hilary was shocked to discover that not only did she NOT get the job, but the person* who beat her to it was a scoundrel, well known for making things up to get his own way.*

Hilary suddenly found herself faced with a choice: Should she stay on her chosen path, or try something else? The choice she made would determine whether she would be* happy or sad.

Hilary went a little way down a different path. It looked pretty*, and the path was wide and easy. There was even a sign saying “Happiness this way”.

It was said the llamas in that part of the country* were particularly clever, so Hilary decided to go.

She wasn’t far down the path when* a rock blocked her way. Thinking there might be something wonderful hidden beneath it, Hilary heaved the rock out of the way. As she did so, her finger was caught* and she received a rather nasty cut. Looking now to where the rock had been moments before, Hilary understood that she had chosen the wrong path…*

Making her way back to the place where she’d gone her own way, and consequently been hurt, Hilary decided that true happiness must only be found when one stays on the true path. Any other path, she thought, must lead to disappointment.

Sure enough, as soon as Hilary stepped back onto the right path*, she found a guidebook telling her everything she needed to know about Llama-Land. And although it wasn’t always easy, she found the rewards* at the end of her strenuous hike, well worth the effort.

The End (El Fin).

Hope you enjoyed that dramatic presentation...In case you are wondering what became of the Scoundrel, rumour has it that he slipped on a banana peel and was unable to continue in his employment taking care of the llamas. According to the Message rendering of Psalm 37, this is a common consequence of being a scoundrel.

But weʼre going to read Psalm 37 from the New International Version…

Psalm 37
1 [a] Do not fret because of evil men
or be envious of those who do wrong;
2 for like the grass they will soon wither,
like green plants they will soon die away.
3 Trust in the LORD and do good;
dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.
4 Delight yourself in the LORD
and he will give you the desires of your heart.
5 Commit your way to the LORD;
trust in him and he will do this:
6 He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn,
the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.
7 Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him;
do not fret when men succeed in their ways,
when they carry out their wicked schemes.
8 Refrain from anger and turn from wrath;
do not fret—it leads only to evil.
9 For evil men will be cut off,
but those who hope in the LORD will inherit the land.
10 A little while, and the wicked will be no more;
though you look for them, they will not be found.
11 But the meek will inherit the land
and enjoy great peace.
12 The wicked plot against the righteous
and gnash their teeth at them;
13 but the Lord laughs at the wicked,
for he knows their day is coming.
14 The wicked draw the sword
and bend the bow
to bring down the poor and needy,
to slay those whose ways are upright.
15 But their swords will pierce their own hearts,
and their bows will be broken.
16 Better the little that the righteous have
than the wealth of many wicked;
17 for the power of the wicked will be broken,
but the LORD upholds the righteous.
18 The days of the blameless are known to the LORD,
and their inheritance will endure forever.
19 In times of disaster they will not wither;
in days of famine they will enjoy plenty.
20 But the wicked will perish:
The LORD's enemies will be like the beauty of the fields,
they will vanish—vanish like smoke.
21 The wicked borrow and do not repay,
but the righteous give generously;
22 those the LORD blesses will inherit the land,
but those he curses will be cut off.
23 If the LORD delights in a man's way,
he makes his steps firm;
24 though he stumble, he will not fall,
for the LORD upholds him with his hand.
25 I was young and now I am old,
yet I have never seen the righteous forsaken
or their children begging bread.
26 They are always generous and lend freely;
their children will be blessed.
27 Turn from evil and do good;
then you will dwell in the land forever.
28 For the LORD loves the just
and will not forsake his faithful ones.
They will be protected forever,
but the offspring of the wicked will be cut off;
29 the righteous will inherit the land
and dwell in it forever.
30 The mouth of the righteous man utters wisdom,
and his tongue speaks what is just.
31 The law of his God is in his heart;
his feet do not slip.
32 The wicked lie in wait for the righteous,
seeking their very lives;
33 but the LORD will not leave them in their power
or let them be condemned when brought to trial.
34 Wait for the LORD
and keep his way.
He will exalt you to inherit the land;
when the wicked are cut off, you will see it.
35 I have seen a wicked and ruthless man
flourishing like a green tree in its native soil,
36 but he soon passed away and was no more;
though I looked for him, he could not be found.
37 Consider the blameless, observe the upright;
there is a future [b] for the man of peace.
38 But all sinners will be destroyed;
the future [c] of the wicked will be cut off.
39 The salvation of the righteous comes from the LORD;
he is their stronghold in time of trouble.
40 The LORD helps them and delivers them;
he delivers them from the wicked and saves them,
because they take refuge in him.

I was in my office chewing over this Psalm the other day, reading it through in several translations, highlighting bits and writing notes...I came to the conclusion that it can pretty much be boiled down into three main topics or themes:

• Instructions or commands
• The consequences of righteousness (or living right with God, having a clean slate and so
on…)
• The consequences of sin (or going your own way, being rebellious etc.)
But thatʼs where I got stuck, and thatʼs where my friend Carrie-Anne came in, read the
Psalm once and simplified the whole thing into one sentence! She said, “Well, isnʼt it just about staying on Godʼs path?”

SO just when I was about to do my head in with study, chuck the whole thing in and do
something altogether different, I finally understood the point of this Psalm and felt
confident enough to talk about it. Thanks Carrie-Anne!

You see, just like Hilary the Hiker in our story earlier, we all face choices along the path of life, and our choices will determine our end- will we be blessed or cursed by our choices?

Will we find joy and peace, or will we, like the Scoundrel, ultimately slip up and injure ourselves?

The first eleven verses of Psalm 37 talk about our attitude as we wait on God. This is where most of the “instruction” bits come from.

Jesus said in Matthew 5:5 that “Good things will happen to the meek. One day the earth will be theirs.” The meek, as described here, are people that are willing to let God teach them; they are people who listen to God. Hereʼs a few of the instructions we find:

• Do not fret (or worry)
• Trust God
• Do good
• Delight yourself in God (or enjoy God like you enjoy anyone else you love)
• Commit your way to the Lord (or dedicate your choices in life to Him; in other words, make choices that will honour Him and serve His greater purposes)
• Be still before God
• Wait patiently
• Donʼt fret (again!) because of evil people who appear to be successful
• Refrain from anger
• Turn from wrath (Romans 12:19 says, “Vengeance is mine [Godʼs], I will repay,” NASV.)
• Do not fret (in case you didnʼt hear it the first two times)

Did anyone pick up the refrain in those verses- a recurring theme?

DO NOT FRET.

You could simplify that command even further with just one word:

TRUST.

You see for all this to work- to see Godʼs goodness in action- you have to trust Him. But in order to trust Him, you first need to know Him. Trust is built through a deepening of relationship, and I encourage you to never stop working on your relationship with God. Do all that you can do to nurture it so that this trust can develop & get stronger- and before you know it youʼll find you have a Solid Rock to stand on when everything else seems to be shifting.

So if the first eleven verses are more or less a set of instructions on how to wait on God and trust Him with your life, then verses 12-20 speak about the consequences of living a godless life. Hereʼs some of the main points:

• Fretting leads to evil
• Evil men will be cut off
• Their swords will pierce their own hearts
• Their bows will be broken
• Their power will be broken
• The wicked will perish
• They will vanish like smoke
• They are cursed and cut off

Thatʼs all pretty self-explanatory: if you choose to live a selfish life at the expense of others and ignoring God, your future doesnʼt look good.

So if the first part of this Psalm is about trusting God and doing what He says, and the second part explains the consequences of being a rebellious idiot, then the last several verses show just what rewards are to be had by those who are humble enough to admit they canʼt trust their own self-seeking desires, and choose to live a life in right standing with God. We call that “righteousness”, a word Iʼm sure most of you have heard before.

Hereʼs some of the bonuses for righteousness, listed from verse 17 onward (overlapping
the sections a little!)

• The Lord upholds the righteous
• The blameless are known to Him
• Their inheritance will endure forever
• They will inherit the land
• The Lord makes his steps firm
• He will not fall, even though he might stumble
• Their children will be blessed
• They will live in the land forever
• The Lord loves the just
• God wonʼt forsake (deny, abandon) His faithful ones
• They will be protected forever
• Theyʼll inherit the land and live in it forever
• His foot wonʼt slip
• God wonʼt leave them
• God wonʼt let them be condemned
• They will see the wicked cut off
• The man of peace has a future
• Salvation comes from God
• He is their stronghold in troubled times
• He helps & delivers them
• He delivers them from the wicked and saves them

Wow!

Thatʼs some pretty awesome promises. And when you are in relationship with God, getting to know Him by reading His word and interacting with Him in prayer and observing what He does in peoplesʼ lives, you know you can trust Him.
He will do what He says He is going to do.

The name given to this weeksʼ topic in the small group study notes is “Psalm 37- God of Delight”. To be honest with you, even though I read and re-read the Psalm, and read the notes a couple of times, I didnʼt really know what that phrase meant till I got done writing most of these thoughts Iʼm sharing with you now.

As I think about that great long list of promises from verse 17 onwards, itʼs pretty obvious what “God of delight” means. He delights in giving good things to His children! He absolutely loves us to death (literally), and He longs to bless our lives- not necessarily with material stuff, although He does sometimes- that isnʼt really the stuff Heʼs concerned with.

God our Father is most concerned with the stuff of our hearts. If thereʼs rebellion, hatred, any kind of evil there, He wants it gone, not because Heʼs cruel but actually because Heʼs the ultimate example- the epitome- of kindness.

Back in verse four it says:

“Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.”

I think this verse is grossly misinterpreted and misunderstood a lot of the time. I think sometimes when people read this verse it gets translated in their heads like this:

“Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your flesh.”

Or if thatʼs too ambiguous for you, try this:

“Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you whatever you want.”

The two biggest problems that I see with our misinterpretation of this verse are:

1. We think itʼs about our wants
2. We fail to understand what it is to “delight in the Lord”.

I found an interpretation of this verse from the “Bible Guide Online” that I think is pretty clear and adequate. It says this:

“The correct interpretation would be that if we take a whole-hearted satisfaction in Jesus, He will mold and shape our hearts so that we have proper desires.”

So what does it mean to “take a wholehearted satisfaction in Jesus”? I think it simply means, once again, TRUST...trusting that Jesus is enough.

A couple of weeks ago the band here played one of my favourite songs by Delirious, which also happens to be based on one of my favourite old hymns:

“On Christ the Solid Rock I stand
All other ground is sinking sand...”

When that statement becomes true for us- when Christ is the solid foundation on which we stand when everything else can be shaken, then we find our hearts start beating to the rhythm of our Makersʼ drum, and His desires actually become ours.

Let me put it like this:

I would love a Maserati. I seriously think they are the hottest looking cars on the earth. That is a “desire” of my heart. But when I look into the face of Jesus (remember what He said that whatever we do “for the least of these” we do for Him?), suddenly a flash Italian sports car pales into insignificance as my heart catches the tune He is singing...He sings of mercy. Grace. Freedom. Love. Compassion. Forgiveness.

The other day in my office I was thinking about a verse. Itʼs Zephaniah 3:17, and I think it ties in with the message of this Psalm. It says this:

“The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.”

As I sat & pondered that verse, the idea of God, the Creator of the Universe, singing over me just overwhelmed me, and I found myself filled with such a desire to know the sound of His voice singing over me, that my desire spilled out into a song of my own.
I want to share this song with you now because as I was writing it I felt in my heart that itʼs a song of healing. Weʼve all been through hard times- certainly as a church I think weʼre all about worn out waiting for a new senior leader to come with some new life & fresh vision...Like Hilary the Hiker, we all know what itʼs like to take a wrong turn and suffer the consequences...so my prayer is that youʼll be blessed by this song- itʼs really just a simple heart-cry- and I pray that youʼll be compelled with the same yearning I felt to hear God, to catch the rhythm of His heartbeat and the melody of His song over us.

This is called “Sing Over Me”.

(Finish with song).

Sunday Nite Live @MBC- July 18th, 2010

2010-07-19T06:48:00.003+10:00

Kaz Jimmy- Introduction to Psalms & Psalm 103

Somewhere in he hustle of our dawn to dusk, 9 to 5, cradle to grave lives we must find the time and space to be still. We are creatures modelled after our Creator, and if He needed rest, then so do we.

Somewhere in the battle that is raging all around us we must stop, draw aside and on our knees cry out for help. We follow a Saviour whom we call our Brother, and if He Himself needed to stop, draw aside and on His knees cry out for help, then so do we.

Somewhere amongst all the pretending we do- just trying to get by, to protect ourselves, to project a “better” image of ourselves- there has to be a place where the mask comes off and we can be real- brutally honest, even. Jesus wore His heart on His sleeve (think: upturned tables & money scattered in righteous anger; bitter tears streaming unhindered at a friends’ funeral; “My God, My God, why have you forsaken Me?”)

Much of our study of the Bible and our attempts at living a “Christian” life can at times be so formulaic, so ritualistic, so devoid of life and emotion that we become stale and we wither inside.

There is so much more to be had in this life of pursuing God, following Jesus, than simply obeying rules, staying between the lines, quoting the texts and appearing to be holy.

For the Christian, the “Jesus-follower”, knowledge and fact must at some point join hands with feeling and faith, in order for anything to make sense.

I recently saw the movie “The Librarian: The Quest for the Spear”, and I forget the exact quote but there is a phrase that is repeated a few times throughout the film that goes something like, “it’s not just what’s up here (points to head) that matters, but what’s in here (points to heart).”

Welcome to the Book of Psalms.

This term we are going on an overview of the poetry that I believe connects Biblical history, practical advice & mental understanding of God and His ways, with the rubber-hits-road, nitty gritty, raw emotions of faith and doubt, joy and sorrow, turmoil and peace.

Psalms is where we get to be real, where faith becomes more than mental gymnastics, where mankind engages with Maker- heart to heart.

I want to share with you some thoughts from Ben Pasley, in his book, “Enter the Worship Circle”…

An online chat room is one thing; a face-to-face talk is another. Having [a fling] is one thing; living in a meaningful marriage is another. Knowing about God is one thing; knowing God is another…

I am continually amazed at the number of religious people who want to reduce a meaningful relationship with God to a page of written principles...If I were on a personal quest to connect with God, why would I settle for a list of activities as a substitute?,,,Better [off] dead than indifferent.

I doubt any of us would want a marriage partner who lived in our home, used our money and raised our children, but didn’t care for us at all. In the same way we should refuse to identify with religion that requires the same pathetic arrangements and calls it “relationship with God”...rules do not stir the heart to beat faster or cause the face to blush. I will abide by the rules after I have found the object of my affection. After my heart has been captured will I commit myself willingly to the boundaries of honour and respect with the God that proves His relentless love for me.

So for those of you who want more fro your faith than what you are currently experiencing, this term of studies, and this book of Psalms is for you. I urge you to use this opportunity, such a time as this, to open your heart to God and allow a deeper level of interaction to take place. Bee deeply honest with Him in your prayers and with your questions. Don’t hold back your feelings. It might help you, as it does me, to get a pen in your hand and some form of paper to write on. However it works for you, do it. Open up communication lines between yourself and your Creator.

The introduction to Psalms in my study Bible says:

This book can help you give voice to your deepest feelings...whatever you feel...you’ll find your feelings expressed somewhere in the Psalms...Your commitment to spend tie in this book will be abundantly rewarded…

The Psalms are poetry, not doctrinal essays. Their writers usually were more interested in how something felt than what it meant…[the] Poetic language calls for you to read with your heart as well as with your mind; it aims not so much as to teach us as reach us. (CGSB p.560)

This all sounds nice, doesn’t it? Let your feelings flow, read with your heart...For some this kind of thing comes quite naturally, but for others this is quite the challenge. We live in an era that exalts the human mind and places logic and reason above and in authority over the heart. But we must be careful not to allow the current predominant attitudes in society to restrain us and restrict us from being all that God created us to be. He made us with bodies, to move around and do things, with minds to think and understand things. And we are also made with a core or a heart (you might say a soul or a spirit) to feel and experience things. We must keep things in balance.

What does the Bible say about the heart? Well, many things. But I want to draw your attention to something: Proverbs 4:20-23 says,

My son, pay attention to what I say; listen closely to my words. Do not let them out of your sight, keep them within your heart; for they are life to those who find them and health to a man’s whole body. Above all else, guard your heart for it is the wellspring of life.

I’m not a huge fan of RNB or Hip Hop, maybe because I just haven’t been exposed to a lot of it. But there is the occasional song that somehow strikes a chord in me. One of those songs is by Arrested Development and it’s called “Fishing For Religion”. I like to listen to this song periodically (lately it’s been about once a week!) because it makes me stop and evaluate my own approach to faith. Here are just some of the lyrics:

The reason I’m fishin’ for a new religion
Is my church makes me fall asleep
They’re praising a God that watches you weep
And doesn’t want you to do a **** thing about it
When they want change the preacher says “Shout it”
Does shouting bring about change? I doubt it
All shouting does is make you lose your voice

Naively so I give it another go
Sitting in church hearing legitimate woes
Pastor tells the lady it’ll be alright
Just pray so you can see the pearly gates so white
The lady prays and prays and prays and prays and prays, it’s everlasting
There’s nothing wrong with praying, it’s what she’s asking

She’s asking the Lord to let her cope…
...the word “cope” and the word “change”
Are directly opposite, not the same
She shoulda been praying to change her woes
But the pastor said “Pray to cope with those”
The government is happy with most baptist churches
Cos they don’t do a **** thing to try to nurture…
Passiveness causes others to pass us by
I’ll throw my line till I’ve made my decision
Until then, I’m still fishin’ for religion…

Now I don’t know what you hear in those lyrics (and I’m not asking you to pick apart the theology), but I hear a man who’s looking for something deeper, more raw, more real- something living and vital rather than as Pasley says “a page of written principles”, or a list of rules. What he’s looking for is really not religion at all, by definition. What he’s looking for is relationship- an engaging faith.

...Not unlike the writers of the Psalms.

King David is said to be connected with 73 of the 150 Psalms, either as the writer or the recipient. It’s David who’s said to have written Psalm 103, which is one of my favourite Psalms and, conveniently, the first one in this term’s studies.

Have a listen to this…

Psalm 103- A David Psalm

1-2 O my soul, bless God. From head to toe, I'll bless his holy name!
   O my soul, bless God,
      don't forget a single blessing!

3-5 He forgives your sins—every one.
      He heals your diseases—every one.
      He redeems you from hell—saves your life!
      He crowns you with love and mercy—a paradise crown.
      He wraps you in goodness—beauty eternal.
      He renews your youth—you're always young in his presence.

6-18 God makes everything come out right;
      he puts victims back on their feet.
   He showed Moses how he went about his work,
      opened up his plans to all Israel.
   God is sheer mercy and grace;
      not easily angered, he's rich in love.
   He doesn't endlessly nag and scold,
      nor hold grudges forever.
   He doesn't treat us as our sins deserve,
      nor pay us back in full for our wrongs.
   As high as heaven is over the earth,
      so strong is his love to those who fear him.
   And as far as sunrise is from sunset,
      he has separated us from our sins.
   As parents feel for their children,
      God feels for those who fear him.
   He knows us inside and out,
      keeps in mind that we're made of mud.
   Men and women don't live very long;
      like wildflowers they spring up and blossom,
   But a storm snuffs them out just as quickly,
      leaving nothing to show they were here.
   God's love, though, is ever and always,
      eternally present to all who fear him,
   Making everything right for them and their children
      as they follow his Covenant ways
      and remember to do whatever he said.

19-22 God has set his throne in heaven;
      he rules over us all. He's the King!
   So bless God, you angels,
      ready and able to fly at his bidding,
      quick to hear and do what he says.
   Bless God, all you armies of angels,
      alert to respond to whatever he wills.
   Bless God, all creatures, wherever you are—
      everything and everyone made by God.
   And you, O my soul, bless God!

Some people have categorised all the Psalms according to their individual flavour or theme. If I had to categorise Psalm 103, I’d maybe call it a “teaching Psalm”. Here’s why…

You may have noticed that throughout the Bible, the Hebrews or Jews liked to recount history- a lot. Although I love history, I don’t think my passion for it comes anywhere near that of a Hebrew scholar. But it’s good to look back and review what God has done. Most times in the thick of things, we can’t make sense of what’s going on. But often times afterward we gain insight as we reflect on past events, with the clarity of hindsight.

Psalm 103 teaches us about the character of God...he forgives, he heals, he redeems, he saves, he’s sheer mercy and grace, he’s not easily angered...and so on. It reminds us how God showed Moses His ways, which resulted in the Hebrews escaping their slavery in Egypt. David uses a snippet of a history lesson to remind his people that God is good, and He’s in control.

Sometimes when life gets rough we seem to lose our faith, or forget who God is, and nothing seems to make sense anymore. We think if our faith is not 100 percent intact every moment of the day and night, that something must be wrong with us. But David understood very well this normal human tendency to forget, and he knew that both he and his people needed to be constantly reminded of God’s goodness in order to hang onto faith. I love how David talks to himself to whip himself into line, and I’m sure I’ve said this before: “And you, O my soul, bless God!”

So how does studying the Psalms apply to our lives?

Like I said at the beginning, I believe the Psalms help us to tap into our emotions, to align that part of us (our hearts) with our Maker. I also believe Psalms are useful for teaching, reminding us of who God is, like Psalm 103.

To apply what we talk about here I think it’s important that we take a lesson from David, and reflect on our own history- what God has done in our lives. It’s also helpful to step outside our current circumstances and look objectively at where God is moving and working now.

There are two handouts making their way around the room now. One is entitled “Past, Present and Future”, and the other is called “The Real Me”. I want you to take a few minutes by yourself and fill them out. Then on the flip side of one of the sheets, if you are game, I want you to have a go at turning your words into your own Psalm. After a few minutes the mic will be here, and there will be opportunity for you to come and share what you’ve written if you want. You never know, someone else here might be feeling the same way as you, and your words might be just what they need to hear.

I’m just going to pray and then leave you with your thoughts…

(AMEN)

vision...

2010-07-13T10:43:00.002+10:00

I'm currently on a "vision quest".

A couple of weeks ago I was sitting at home sorta having an informal chat with God...I had been feeling the weight of "battle" quite strongly and was getting disillusioned. Out of my mouth came the words, "God, I'm dying here..." (melodramatic to the core!)...and within a heartbeat, He spoke these words right back:

WITHOUT A VISION THE PEOPLE PERISH...(Prov. 29:18)

Wow. I shouldn't have been stunned but I was, somewhat. It hit me all at once; the vague sense of dissatisfaction that began a few months ago and had now become almost tangible, had a label:

LACK OF VISION.

Shortly after that I had a great chat over the phone with Sally, my Coach, and I'm looking forward to exploring what it all means, and where to go from here. I said to Sal on the phone that I think I can finally see a light at the end of the tunnel.

I wrote this in my journal after that phone coaching session:

It's time to listen to God's heartbeat again- it seems I've lost track of the rhythm.

Sunday Nite Live @MBC, June 20th 2010, Kaz Jimmy

2010-06-22T06:58:00.003+10:00

(Philip Yancey clip- “What Good is God?”)

(Read) Luke 18:1-8 (The Message)

The Story of the Persistent Widow

1-3 Jesus told them a story showing that it was necessary for them to pray consistently and never quit. He said, "There was once a judge in some city who never gave God a thought and cared nothing for people. A widow in that city kept after him: 'My rights are being violated. Protect me!'

4-5 "He never gave her the time of day. But after this went on and on he said to himself, 'I care nothing what God thinks, even less what people think. But because this widow won't quit badgering me, I'd better do something and see that she gets justice—otherwise I'm going to end up beaten black-and-blue by her pounding.'"

6-8 Then the Master said, "Do you hear what that judge, corrupt as he is, is saying? So what makes you think God won't step in and work justice for his chosen people, who continue to cry out for help? Won't he stick up for them? I assure you, he will. He will not drag his feet. But how much of that kind of persistent faith will the Son of Man find on the earth when he returns?"

In this passage we find Jesus using a particular type of story called a parable, to illustrate that we should always pray and not give up. There are two main characters in the story- a Judge who cares nothing for God or for people; and a very determined Widow who refuses to be ignored.

At first the Judge ignores the Widow’s pleas, but she just keeps going back, hassling him till he finally relents. It’s not as if the Judge suddenly develops some kind of sense of compassion or anything, but he realises that he’s not going to get any rest until he caves in to her demands. His motivation or reasoning is purely selfish.

The moral to Jesus’ story is that if even a selfish Judge can administer justice for someone he cares nothing about, then we must believe and hang onto the belief that God the Father, who loves His followers passionately, will do the same- and for that reason we must pray and never lose hope or give up.

I don’t know about you but I can’t help reading that story and thinking, “But what about all the times it’s hard to understand what God is doing? It’s not always easy to hang on to hope when everything seems to be falling apart.”

I sent an email round to a whole bunch of people this week, from all different walks of life and from all over the world, asking if they or if anyone they know has ever lost faith, and why. Over the next couple of days, as the responses literally poured in, I was slightly overwhelmed.

The very first response I got came from a friend who is an army wife, and she said this:

I spoke to a friend the other day who is in Afghanistan and he told me that he has lost his faith. He said that after all these years of believing in God, he is now a non-believer. Last week he was with a mate when he was blown up by a bomb. Darren Smith and his bomb-sniffing dog were in Afghanistan, trying to make areas safe for more schools, roads, rebuilding houses and medical clinics for the locals. They didn’t stand a chance, a bomb went off before the dog could even indicate there was something there. Two young men were lost. Darren Smith was 25, married with a two-and-a-half year old boy. The other was a twenty-one year old.

My friend saw his mates die. He said that was the minute he realised that no God could exist, that the things he was taught for the last 32 years could not be real. They were engineers. They were the ones teaching the locals trades, building schools and houses, and not off in combat. They were there doing good and he said that if God were real, the ones who were helping would still be here, not being put into a metal coffin and flown home to their families with a flag draped over them...War seems to be a major reason for losing faith. My Pop went to war a Catholic and came home an Atheist too.

Another friend wrote:

Outside of a religious context, I know that relationships are big in terms of the concept of hope for me. I’m not just talking about romantic relationships, but family relationships and friendships also. I feel most hopeful, and am inspired to dream most, when I feel most connected with people. When I lose some of that connection with someone, or go through a period of isolation from people in general, I feel most downcast, and feel less hopeful, and even hate the concept of hope.

That same friend made me aware of a guy in the United States named Cliffe Knechtle who has a TV show called “Give Me An Answer” (you may have seen it- if you haven’t and you don’t get the Christian channel on your TV, I encourage you to check him out on You Tube, it’s fascinating stuff). Anyway, my friend told me they’d seen an episode where Cliffe was tackling this very topic, about people who have lost faith. The main reasons he gave for people losing faith were…

1. The problem of suffering- people get so disillusioned with the way the world looks and it causes them to give up hope in God
2. Feeling let down- hoping for something, believing its God’s will, and then not being able to understand when it doesn’t happen that way
3. Not being able to “feel” God- feeling that God is distant from us personally.

We could probably add more to that summary of reasons but I think they cover the main reasons why people lose faith fairly well. Most of the emails I received this week could fall into one or more of those categories…

Take for example an email I got from my oldest friend. I consider myself privileged to still be able to call this person a friend because not only have I moved around a lot since Kindergarten, where we first met, but our friendship has gone through its share of trials- trials I feel largely responsible for, and which I was reminded of when she sent this email response to my question this week. It’s pretty long so I won’t read it verbatim (there’s your big word for the week...it means “literally” or “word-for-word”!)...but I’ll just read enough for you to get the general idea of her thoughts…

Hi Karen…this topic could really open a can of worms...Good luck with that! I do distinctly recall my beliefs changing upon the death of my grandmother in 1996...I cannot recall what led me to have this absolute anger toward God, but I was really angry. It may have been questioning how He could allow people to suffer...if He is a great God, who loves His children...this belief was further shaken when Dad died in 2006, and Dad suffered so terribly...We had a young mother at our son’s preschool die suddenly last year, leaving a 4 year old and a 3 year old without a mother. I am still trying to work out the greater purpose in putting young children through that…

I think that another issue for me is that people use religion to their own ends

(and here’s the part where I remembered how I used “religion” to hurt this good friend of mine, by being self-righteous and critical and judgmental in some comments I made to her)…

...My friend went on to tell of a woman she knows of whose son is a homosexual, something the woman’s church does not condone. The boy is now suicidal but rather than embracing him and extending mercy to him and showing him the love of Jesus in a real way, the church and the mother have drawn a hard line in the sand and completely rejected him as a matter of principle.

Back in the day, it was my hard lines in the sand- lines of judgment, lines of principle- that caused a rift between my friend and I, and deeply wounded her (and in truth, probably added to her own questions about the goodness of God). I held my principles more dearly than the heart of my friend, and I don’t believe now that Jesus would have handled the situation the same way, not at all. When Jesus is questioned what is the greatest of the Commandments, He simply replies “Love”. This is what it says in Matthew 22:36-40...

36 "Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?" 37 Jesus replied: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' 40 All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments." (New International Version)

I was not loving in my judgment of my friend, and it’s that kind of attitude from well-meaning but misguided Christians that causes many people to reject the Jesus they/we supposedly represent. Truth is truth, but as Joyce Meyer said on the radio the other morning, not too many people are motivated by condemnation or criticism. People are motivated by encouragement, love, grace and mercy.

In my response to my friend’s email, I wrote this:

...I agree, it really could open up a can of worms. But I think it’s better out than in, even if we end up with a mess...I realise I’m potentially taking a bit of a risk but I’m not content to walk a blind line of refusal to acknowledge that pain happens. There are questions that need asking and there may be no answer in the end other than faith...which I believe...is quite distinct from religion.

Disappointment and disillusionment are, I think, two of the biggest causes of people losing their faith or giving up on trusting God to come through for them.

In another email, a friend told a story about how someone who used to be a youth group leader in his church ultimately drifted away from church after her life didn’t pan out the way she had hoped it would. My friend writes:

I was stunned when I first heard that this girl had apparently drifted away from the faith- she of all people…

Another friend wrote of her personal struggle with faith right now, saying…

Everything just isn’t what I thought it would be.

I can’t go through all the emails I received this week or we would be here all night (really), but the underlying threads are pretty much the same as those I’ve already mentioned... Pain, unanswered questions, failed hopes, frustrated dreams, confusion, disappointment, disillusionment. As I wrote in one reply, this is certainly one big topic, and the number of responses indicates how desperate people are to either find faith or find a reason to cling to it.

As I read through everyone’s emails I could almost feel the pain in their words. I could imagine their faces streaked with tears and their hands reached up, not in joyful surrender to God but in hopeless wondering “Why?”...And I started to realise that some of these people at least were probably going to show up here tonight hoping for something- an answer, or at least a pathway to an answer...a glimmer of hope.

So I started asking God, “God what am I going to say to these people?”

In one response to someone I wrote...

People...are genuinely confused by a simplistic view of faith that doesn’t account for the pain and suffering we endure.

People aren’t buying the old lines anymore. People are no longer content to play the “Glad Game” (sorry Pollyanna!), and just pretend that everything is alright when clearly, its not. Moreover, people in pain, people with questions, cannot relate to a God who cannot relate to their pain…

It’s a good thing, then, that we don’t have to.

Its a good thing, then, that the God we are looking to for answers is referred to sometimes as the “Man of Sorrows”.

Listen to this…

Isaiah 53:2-9 (The Message)

2-6 The servant grew up before God—a scrawny seedling, a scrubby plant in a parched field.  There was nothing attractive about him, nothing to cause us to take a second look.  He was looked down on and passed over, a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.  One look at him and people turned away. We looked down on him, thought he was scum.  But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—  our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.  We thought he brought it on himself, that God was punishing him for his own failures.  But it was our sins that did that to him, that ripped and tore and crushed him— our sins!  He took the punishment, and that made us whole. Through his bruises we get healed.  We're all like sheep who've wandered off and gotten lost. We've all done our own thing, gone our own way.  And God has piled all our sins, everything we've done wrong,  on him, on him.

7-9 He was beaten, he was tortured, but he didn't say a word. Like a lamb taken to be slaughtered and like a sheep being sheared, he took it all in silence.  Justice miscarried, and he was led off— and did anyone really know what was happening?  He died without a thought for his own welfare, beaten bloody for the sins of my people.  They buried him with the wicked, threw him in a grave with a rich man,  Even though he'd never hurt a soul or said one word that wasn't true.

Jesus, the Man of Sorrows, knows all about suffering, and he identifies with us in our pain. He is not distant from us, as our pain would have us believe. He is right there with us, in the thick of it.

In more than one of my email responses this week I wrote this, or words to this effect:

Here’s all I’ve got…

“On Christ the Solid Rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.”

I just can’t get away from the Man of Sorrows, who is well acquainted with suffering, but endured it for the sake of a greater prize than His own comfort- our love.

That’s all I’ve got.

Jesus.

I want to share part of an email I got from one of our Elders, Rosie. She shared some of her personal journey of faith, and then she wrote this:

...I guess the upshot is that we have to be convinced and really believe that God does not walk away from us- despite our sin, grief and confusion. Jesus kept walking towards the cross, even when He knew the awful truth of what He had to face. However, He trusted His Father in Heaven.

We walk away from Him- is it because we are not convinced of His presence in our lives, or that He is a Living God who feels our pain?...Is it because we...pick and choose when to include Him [in our lives]- or only talk to Him when we are at odds with the world and want a quick fix and can’t face the challenge?

There is so much to say and so little time on a Sunday evening, but I just want to share a couple more thoughts that came my way this week as I asked God what I was to say to you people...it may seem simplistic, but like I said, all I got is Jesus, but despite all my own times of doubt and confusion, I’m still standing…so here it is:

I was reminded of a verse in Romans- its chapter 10 verse 17. It tells us that faith comes from hearing the word of God. The New Living Translation puts it like this:

“So faith comes from hearing, that is, hearing the Good News about Christ.”

I wonder if, when our faith seems to be slipping away and the doubts and the questions seem louder than any other thing in our heads, we perhaps need to consciously switch off those other “voices”- the doubts, the nagging questions, the screaming reminders of our pain, and intentionally remind ourselves of “the Good News about Christ”?

There’s a great quote by Charles Spurgeon that goes, “Bread cannot possibly sustain the body unless it be eaten...Take the Book, and read it...in order that you may find rest for your soul. Believe what is revealed in Holy Scripture."

I’m going to show you another clip from Philip Yancey, and then I’d like to open up the floor to invite some of you to share your faith stories. We’ve heard the doubt stories, which I’m sure we can all relate to on one level or another. But let’s now hear the Good News about what Jesus Christ has done in our lives.

Jesus said in the parable we read back at the start that we should “pray and not give up” because God is faithful and He will bring justice.

So I’m going to pray, and then I want you to have a think about how you would answer these questions:
Have you hung onto your faith in hard times, and if so why? What is it that makes you believe that God cares?
I’ll finish now with this prayer from my Celtic tradition, we’ll watch the clip, and then I’ll leave the mic here for anyone that wants to share…

Lord, take this place
and fill it with Your blessing.
Let it be a haven
where the poor in spirit sing.
Take this place and fill it, Lord.
Fill it with Your praise.
Amen.

(Celtic Daily Prayer, Meditations, Day 19)

...deserts to gardens...

A Noble Focus for our Attention...

Mark Driscoll vs. Justin Brierly- My Two Cents

A Living Word

Wake Up, Australia...

The Race...Episode #1

Healer

Silence

I mUst be NUTs...

Injustice.

"I can't help it- it's *sigh* just the way I am..."

Weeping in Portugal & Dancing in Brasil

Why I can't leave Jesus out of it...

There are no waves in New York- are there?

Averting My Thoughts...

Ketchwa

Are Your Clothes Made By the Hands of Slaves?

Angel Wars

a lil more for the kids...

F.I.R.S.T. Blog Alliance- Juvenile Fiction

witness

Father

Ha...

"Trouble Won't Go" - The Blackthorn Project and friends

Your world (for Mothers' Day)

Justice

Prayer & Mustard

Cool Story

Sun 24th April - Easter!

Sat 23rd April - Silence

Fri 22nd April - It. Is. Finished.

Thurs 21st April - Not My Will

Weds 20th April - Supper

Tues 19th April - Hosanna

Mon 18th April - Perfume

Fri 15th April - Go!

Thurs 14th April - Mud

F.I.R.S.T. Blog Alliance- "Revise Us Again" by Frank Viola

Weds 13th April - The Well

Tues 12th April - Faithless

Mon 11th April - Get Up

Fri 8th April - Solitude

Weds 6th April - Don't Give Up

Tues 5th April - Stay With Me

Mon 4th April - Teach Us

Fri 1st April - Does This Offend You?

24-7 Rewind + Prayer Spaces Extra

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Thurs 31st March - Life

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Wed 30th March - Don't Worry

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Tues 29th March - Son

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Mon 28th March - Upside Down

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Fri 25th March - Alone

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Thurs 24th March - Homeless

Listen Online...

Weds 23rd March - Doubt

Tues 22nd March - Hunger

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Mon 21st March - My Son

Rend Collective Experiment - Come On (My Soul) OFFICIAL

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Fri 18th March - Seven Miles

hope

Why Art Matters

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Thurs 17th March - Shoes Off

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Weds 16th March - Jesus Wept

Permission to Speak Freely

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Tues 15th March - Come Follow Me

Love. Story. Community.

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Mon 14th March - My Eyes Have Seen

Spring Rain

November Rain

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Fri 11th March - Magnify

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Thurs 10th March - Immanuel

Have You Ever Lost Faith?

Prayer Spaces for Lent- Wed 9th March 'Make Way'

I want to know Christ: Prayer Spaces for Lent trailer

A Theology of Brokenness- Thoughts on Grace & Godliness

Creative Subversion

So I Stand By The Door...

F.I.R.S.T. Blog Alliance Wildcard- "Meet Mrs. Smith" by Anna Smith

F.I.R.S.T. Blog Alliance Wildcard- "Delirious" by Martin Smith

Lofty Rhetoric

"I can't help it- it's sigh just the way I am..."