More to say

I want to more often take conversations to the next step. In talking about my car accident this morning, my physio said "It makes you realise how precious life is", and I enthusiastically agreed. I would like to have said "Yeah and, as a Christian, it really brought home that God is watching over me". I would like to do this.

Not cutting slack; cutting slack

We should want to show people respect and compassion, but sometimes you can't do both. We want to treat a fellow adult with dignity and let them make their choices and exercise their God-given responsibilities without stepping in to read their minds or cushion things for them, even as we see them making bad choices. We don't shelter them from the consequences of their actions as we might shelter a child. It is dignifying to them to have to experience what comes of what was done, and may also be more helpful long-term. Justice and discipline borne of God are beautiful - because they show that our choices matter, that the people making them matter.

Yet we want to treat a fellow human with compassion, to cut them slack and show mercy towards them in their weakness, remembering that we have many of our own. We want to step in and ease the way for them, take the burden of failure away, shower them with generous, merciful care, and help them in their present need. This mirrors the beauty of God's mercy towards us hateful, rebellious sinners.

Sometimes it's one and sometimes it's the other, and sometimes you can see your way clear to a bit of both. It takes a wisdom and courage that only God can give, so it's just lucky that he does :).

TV as blessing

It was my habit to watch TV most evenings. I was tired - I wanted to sit down and not think. I wanted to find out what was happening in the lives of my screen-buddies. But it stopped me getting things done, made me tired the next day and pushed out any chance for creativity. Hence the new regime...

If I feel tired at the end of the day, I'm to have a nap, get up and embrace the evening.
I can watch TV, but only over dinner or for a favourite show.
I can watch boxsets, but the characters' lives must not take over my own.
My evenings can be humble and mundane - they can be for errands and housework - but they must be owned and lived.

Persistent in effort; stubbornly tenacious

After a week of gorgeously sunny days, it's raining. I do hope that doesn't colour this post. Well as I said earlier, I've just returned from a week going around Presbyterian churches in the north of the state. I loved the people's warm welcome but, once again, found myself squirming when I was introduced in glowing terms or commended for my selflessness. As the week went on, I realised that I just don't see myself in these terms. I am very aware of my sins and deficiencies.* That in turn got me thinking about what effect my more sober view might have on my ministry.

I know that I don't work stupidly hard at my ministry - I'm disciplined in taking rest and I delight in it. And I know that I don't work to earn God's approval or to somehow make it up to him - I rely utterly on Christ for that. Yet I do work doggedly. I think I do so because I feel unworthy and 'scrappy'. What else could someone like me do when I have been given so much? So I work, not exactly out of gratitude and not out of cold duty either, but out of loyalty and because it is the only fitting response.

Loyalty is a good starting point, but I am forgetting that I wasn't redeemed by some high-minded stranger, but by the big-hearted, compassionate, extravagant Almighty God. The God who rejoiced to see my redemption. I'm forgetting how free I am, how completely released from the burden of guilt and striving. I'm forgetting that while I should certainly throw myself into serving him, I'm to do so with glad exuberance.

I think my job has been confusing me. I've signed up to a working week full of speaking and thinking about God. That's my role and that's what people pay me for. But I'm forgetting that I'm not under complusion to do this work. "Tend the flock of God that is in your charge, not under constraint but willingly, not for shameful gain but eagerly." (1 Pet 5:2, and with thanks to John Piper for the reminder.) I chose to do it, because I thought it was important yes, but also because I wanted to and because I enjoy the work - which is just how God would have it. So I need to not see my loyal service as the essential thing and my enjoyment as an (embarrassing) add-on. I need to do my ministy with glad exuberance. :)


* Nb Another thing I've come to see is that, while it is right not to think of myself more highly than I ought, but rather to think with sober judgment and honesty about my complex motives, my sometime meanness and the swath of things I have left undone, and so be cautious in accepting other people's praise . . . it is also right to recognise all the good that God has wrought in me and so to gladly receive commendation.

True feelings

So that I might stand and lie, I have spent the last few days 'attending' Moore College's 2011 School of Theology - 'True Feelings: Emotions in Christian Life and Ministry'.

One of the key threads running through the talks was that we are complex beings, with emotions an integral part of who we are. Many speakers observed the range and intensity of emotions experienced (and thereby validated) by Christ and his apostles. Another key theme was that, if we are to mature as people, we must grow emotionally. This was said to be true not only of our engagement with people and life's circumstances, but even with the process of 'knowing'. A number of speakers suggested that the emotion bound up in biblical narrative, poetry and song helps us to process reality and knowledge in a holistic way. A couple of speakers (Richard Gibson and David Hohne) argued that the Bible depicts emotional growth and the Spirit's presence in times of personal suffering and as we empathise with the sufferings of our brothers and sisters (in contrast to the secular vision for gaining 'emotional intelligence').

I'd like to get better at telling people of my love and concern for them. I'd like to care about them more, with the passion of Paul (and even of Christ), and be more brave in sharing in their joys and sorrows. I'd like to find some Christian music that I actually enjoy, so I can be built up by it.

I rejoice in the fact that we don't just know stuff about God, but we know him. I rejoice in how he has made us, and how his Word is designed to mature us as whole people, and how that's not at all dry. I rejoice in being able to stand together and sing.

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

Why I care about Christianity

Apologies for the hiatus. I was up north for a week trotting around churches letting them know about my missionary plans. They made me feel very welcome and adopted into the Northern Tasmanian community. Then as I was almost back home, I was part of a nasty four-car accident so have had the last few days off to recover. I'm grateful to be alive and believe that God was actively protecting me that night (and the other people involved in the accident). I'll see how I go with the blogging - it might continue to be a bit thin over the next couple of weeks as I got whiplash and am supposed to be minimising my time on the computer.

For today I wanted to share with you something a friend told me. She was showing me respect by being honest with me, letting me know that she just doesn't care about Christianity. So I asked if she would like to know why it is I do, and she said she would. It's taken a while to express it truely, but this is from my heart...

I care about Christianity because God gave his Son to die for me though he didn't have to.

I care about Christianity because in doing so, he has given me everything that matters - no condemnation, acceptance, peace, adoption as his child, the confidence to approach him as my Dad, help in my life - comfort and strength and stepping in to change circumstances - trust that he is watching over me and working out all things for my good and that even if I die it's okay, certain hope for the future, no fear of death, knowing the right way to live, always being free to live that way, being changed from the inside so I become a better person.

I care about Christianity because Jesus is the most important and wonderful person in my life.

Please pray that I'll be able to convey this to her.

Happy endings in Australia

I'm keen to take an Australian film to Chile, to show them what my country's like. One set in suburbia that captures the spirit of our culture, is neither violent nor depressing and would make sense to someone not familiar with Australian culture (thus ruling out The Castle, sadly). The last criteria is a particularly challenging one, as I'm sure you're aware. (One critic described Australian films as "so dispiriting that they make Leonard Cohen seem positively cheery".) The films I watched were Peaches, One Perfect Day, Danny Deckchair (well, half-watched), Hey Hey It's Esther Blueburger, Till Human Voices Wake Us, Prime Mover, Mullet, Ten Empty, Two Fists One Heart, Strange Planet, Travelling Light (half-watched), Three Dollars, and Two Hands. A mixed bag. A few were self-consciously Australian, not in an exuberant, Crocodile Dundee sort of way or in an earnest, Australia sort of way, but in a mildly ironic, emblematic, indie sort of way. Prime Mover, Mullet, and Travelling Light are the ones I'm thinking of. Plus some, like Peaches and Strange Planet, which also had a quietly hopeful, prosaic plot.

Some moved beyond this quiet, suburban irony by exploring subcultures, raving in One Perfect Day, boxing in Two Fists One Heart; teenage experience, Hey Hey It's Esther Blueburger, Travelling Light, Till Human Voices Wake Us; and the criminal world, Two Hands. Danny Deckchair was one of those gentle, self-mocking comedies that I don't find funny. Ten Empty was your typical, unredemptive tale of family dysfunction. Till Human Voices Wake Us delved into fantasy and magic realism.

Prime Mover and Mullet were both good, but my favourites were Three Dollars, a sincere, character-driven, redemptive story of a seemingly ordinary man's downfall; Two Fists One Heart, a believably complex story about boxing, fathers and sons, girlfriends, and Australian-Italian culture; and Two Hands, an entertaining fast-paced tale of an unwilling crim. This won the coverted prize of Going In Fiona's Suitcase, for its laconic, unhurried conversations. These three were excellent films, and gave me hope that we can produce hopeful, winsome, sophisticated films after all.

Out of reverence for Christ

Ephesians 5:22-6:9 is about wives and husbands, children and parents, slaves and masters – but I think it's fair enough to carry the gist of these verses across to men and women more generally, to children and adults, workers and bosses. Let's picture it in our churches. How beautiful it would be if in every church, the women respected and submitted to their brothers in Christ; and the men loved their sisters and gave themselves up for them! How beautiful if children obeyed adults; and adults didn't exasperate children, but instead brought them up in the training and instruction of the Lord! How lovely if workers and church members obeyed those over them with respect, fear and sincerity of heart and served wholeheartedly, as if serving the Lord; and if bosses and church leaders didn't threaten the people under them, but showed them the same respect and service! I praise God that I do see something of this in my church.

After you have done everything

I'm quite fond of this year. Things have been going well, nothing heartbreaking has happened and God has given to me a large measure of peace and joy. But it's also been a year of struggle. For many months my heart was telling me that ministry work wasn't worthwhile and I was a self-indulgent drain on the resources of people doing an honest day's work. When that eventually passed away, I found myself feeling that, while ministry work itself was valuable, my particular plans didn't count for much. And after this, I began doubting my own godliness, heavy laden with (disproportionate) guilt. Then I mercifully experienced a few weeks' reprieve, just in time for a round of supportraising at other churches. And most recently, the uncertainty of everything – my departure date in particular – started to make me feel unsettled, frayed.

I tell you all this not to get it off my chest but to testify to what God has told us in Ephesians 6. I assume that all these distracting emotions have been Satan's doing. So to fend him off, I did what God said to do: I put on his full armor, the armor of 'truth', 'righteousness', 'readiness', 'faith', 'salvation', 'the word of God' and 'prayer'. Shielded by these, I was able to 'take my stand against the devil's schemes', to 'stand my ground', and 'after I had done everything', 'to stand firm'. I didn't do anything spectacular or decisive, I just kept on going, reminding myself of things that my mind and heart once knew to be true, reading his word and praying to him, and not giving in to what I was feeling. It's been a muddled time, but it's been okay too. I knew God well enough to feel sure that he would look after me, as he has indeed done. Things are going well and I thank him for it.

Good to see ya

I love my church but, usually, I find it tricky to relate to people of a Sunday afternoon. As I look out on the crowd of people, I become a little overwhelmed, befuddled and panicked. My confidence and social adroitness almost palpably drop away. I remind myself that it can be about quality - I can talk with just one person all evening if I want. This helps me to relax, but I remain rattled by the sense of all the people around me.

All this until the last couple of Sundays when maybe, just maybe I hit upon a solution. The Sunday before last was the first time back in the adults' service for a couple of months. I was pumped to be sitting there with my people, listening to the sermon and worshipping God. After the service I found myself wandering around, gladly talking to people. I think that could be the key: simply be happy to see everyone and the rest will take care of itself. When I'm happy to see people, I invest in them, easily. I chat warmly to newcomers, and keep an eye out for lonely people, but not in an intense way. I forget the pressure-fuelled relating that a crowd usually inspires. I stop talking to people out of duty. I forget my social skills, which means they're actually there. And it's not as though being happy to see people is something I have to force - I love those guys!