Child sponsorship really works. For that child. This article tells us all about it and with great joy. Of course they do - these kids', these people's, lives have been changed. All that support growing up, all those letters of encouragement, of a bigger vision, they have all paid off - and this from a Christian organisation!
And I don't know if I'm pleased or not. I mean, I am for all those kids. But what about their brothers and sisters and the other kids in their village or city? Because the way the studies proved that there had been a positive effect for the sponsor kids was to compare their progress to other kids in the same situation - usually their siblings. Who didn't progress. Well probably a little - "We even find some evidence for spillover effects on the unsponsored younger siblings of sponsored children" (see here for a little more detail).
Is this okay? I mean, it's probably okay, but is it optimum? I love the personal approach, the chance to write them letters - because I know that the even greater gift than an escape from poverty is the gift of eternal life, and I know this is something you have to tell people about, something that gets shared one to another. But is it enough to love the one kid? Do we need to be doing something for their brothers and sisters as well? I guess I see this as different from the times when one needy person crosses your path. Then, your responsibility is to help that one person out and leave the bigger picture with God. But this isn't that - this is taking the initiative to step into a situation. So are we still called to help the one? I don't know.
Monday, June 24, 2013
Let us fix our eyes
Is there nothing greater than enjoying God? I think Bruce Pass would say there is more - for "a serious weakness of Ethical Hedonism is its tendency to strip away the inherent value of objects" [italics mine]. And, must we always enjoy our Father, in every moment of our lives? Here I think Pass would give a tentative no - "Whereas Piper says that an
act bereft of joy is not worship, the Apostle Paul claims this for another virtue, love". I think he's right.
Yet, together with Pass, I wish to commend and honour most of what Piper says, his very great ministry, and his generosity and vision in making his work accessible to Spanish-speaking people. And I love what he has done to affirm our humanness and help us see that our soul is right when it longs for something more. Indeed, I think the Bible encourages this sort of self-focus and self-fulfillment. We are commanded to look again at ourselves in the light of God's reality and urge our hearts to repent, be at peace and satisfied. And yet, even more than this we are urged to cast our vision outside of ourselves, to look on God: not so we might gain some other end, but because he is our all. To think not of ourselves at all, or at least very little.
I've been noticing some occasions where the opposite is true, when I think we look too much to our own experience. So Christianity gets marketed as the path to true happiness. And such it is, but it is more. It is the path to God. Perhaps we think that unbelievers won't see the appeal, but we may need to trust the Holy Spirit to whisper it to them.
So we seek to understand why God would have things a certain way, why he would ask us to first pray "hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done"; and our answer is that these petitions help us to keep our lives in perspective, remind us there is more going on when we are going through hard times. This is certainly true, but it is secondary. We pray these things first-and-foremost not for any benefit we gain, but simply because we do desire to see our Father's name honoured, to see his kingdom come.
So we are told that because we have all we need in Christ, we may - and must - always be happy. And while it's true that this is ever possible for us, emotions are unruly things and we don't always properly appreciate what we have. And yet, even in these sad times, we have all we need in Christ. This is what is real and ultimate. This is what - normally - brings us joy.
Yet, together with Pass, I wish to commend and honour most of what Piper says, his very great ministry, and his generosity and vision in making his work accessible to Spanish-speaking people. And I love what he has done to affirm our humanness and help us see that our soul is right when it longs for something more. Indeed, I think the Bible encourages this sort of self-focus and self-fulfillment. We are commanded to look again at ourselves in the light of God's reality and urge our hearts to repent, be at peace and satisfied. And yet, even more than this we are urged to cast our vision outside of ourselves, to look on God: not so we might gain some other end, but because he is our all. To think not of ourselves at all, or at least very little.
I've been noticing some occasions where the opposite is true, when I think we look too much to our own experience. So Christianity gets marketed as the path to true happiness. And such it is, but it is more. It is the path to God. Perhaps we think that unbelievers won't see the appeal, but we may need to trust the Holy Spirit to whisper it to them.
So we seek to understand why God would have things a certain way, why he would ask us to first pray "hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done"; and our answer is that these petitions help us to keep our lives in perspective, remind us there is more going on when we are going through hard times. This is certainly true, but it is secondary. We pray these things first-and-foremost not for any benefit we gain, but simply because we do desire to see our Father's name honoured, to see his kingdom come.
So we are told that because we have all we need in Christ, we may - and must - always be happy. And while it's true that this is ever possible for us, emotions are unruly things and we don't always properly appreciate what we have. And yet, even in these sad times, we have all we need in Christ. This is what is real and ultimate. This is what - normally - brings us joy.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Licentiousness and town criers
I love my mate Al's blog so much - it's ever humble and sharp and just interesting - like a cheese perhaps. Recently he wrote a couple of absolutely cracker posts which I can't help but share with you. One was about Ryoji Ikeda's Spectra, a visual art piece exhibited as part of Hobart's new Dark MOFO art festival. (Tasmanian never used to be this cool.) Let me steal his thunder by quoting from the end. His description of the festival struck me because, as a non-believer, I was once drawn to these things...
The other had to do with the necessity of spelling out 'the Gospel'. From the middle...
Dark MOFO is an extension of MONA. It's about secrecy and licentiousness and freedom and pleasure.
It's predominantly about embracing and enjoying darkness.
So the inclusion and popularity of Spectra is a wonderful, almost undermining, touch of irony.
The other had to do with the necessity of spelling out 'the Gospel'. From the middle...
It's not enough for the town crier to run down the main road enthusiastically shouting out "I have the most wonderful news of peace and rest for you all" but then not tell the townsfolk what the news is and why it's so good.
Women's rights X2
Australian Senator John Madigan (not the most charismatic guy ever) has introduced a bill seeking to ban abortion on gender grounds. A friend who is pro-abortion linked to this article - a fair-handed presentation of the role the federal government really does play in supporting abortion both nationally and internationally (through Medicare and AusAid), and a warning that conservative politicians may be angling to use the issue as leverage for their vote on other matters. All of which is, as I said, fair. But what really interested me was that the article failed to address, or even mention, the bill's central theme. It was all about where Madigan's bill might take us, never about the content of the bill itself - gender-based abortion.
I understand if liberal commentators and thinkers are conflicted by this issue and unsure of how to respond, because here we see two values equally cherished by the Left butting up against each other - a woman's right to choose what she does with her body and life in one corner versus the protection and advancement of women and their equal standing with men in the other. I trust (and hope) that all commentators would instintively recognise that it is abhorrent to abort a foetus simply because it is a girl (or a boy: but this would probably never happen - which makes the issue all the more pointed). So I don't think it's at this point that the hesitation comes - I think it's the implication of what such a concession would mean that gives pause.
To ban gender-based abortions would erode the essential power of the pro-choice argument - that women have a fundamental, enduring right to make decisions about their pregnancy. Now if this bill were passed, women could still retain this right . . . except when their decisions were wrong (and here we're talking capital "W", misogyny Wrong). And if it's possible for us to have it wrong here, maybe there are other times where our choices are bad and should not be honoured. Maybe this right isn't so fundamental afterall.
If we're going to talk about where this sort of legislation might take us, let's not just do so by treating it as some sort of generalised 'pro-life legislation', but let's actually engage with the specificity of its content. To have any sort of integrity, the Left needs an answer to the question, "Should a woman be allowed to abort their foetus when they find out it's a girl?".
I understand if liberal commentators and thinkers are conflicted by this issue and unsure of how to respond, because here we see two values equally cherished by the Left butting up against each other - a woman's right to choose what she does with her body and life in one corner versus the protection and advancement of women and their equal standing with men in the other. I trust (and hope) that all commentators would instintively recognise that it is abhorrent to abort a foetus simply because it is a girl (or a boy: but this would probably never happen - which makes the issue all the more pointed). So I don't think it's at this point that the hesitation comes - I think it's the implication of what such a concession would mean that gives pause.
To ban gender-based abortions would erode the essential power of the pro-choice argument - that women have a fundamental, enduring right to make decisions about their pregnancy. Now if this bill were passed, women could still retain this right . . . except when their decisions were wrong (and here we're talking capital "W", misogyny Wrong). And if it's possible for us to have it wrong here, maybe there are other times where our choices are bad and should not be honoured. Maybe this right isn't so fundamental afterall.
If we're going to talk about where this sort of legislation might take us, let's not just do so by treating it as some sort of generalised 'pro-life legislation', but let's actually engage with the specificity of its content. To have any sort of integrity, the Left needs an answer to the question, "Should a woman be allowed to abort their foetus when they find out it's a girl?".
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Neutrality's iron fist
Oh my goodness, I just realised something - a claim to neutrality is the biggest power claim of all. People who claim that their views are neutral and for everyone are no different from dogmatic Christians, except that they never actually claim to be Right - their fixed beliefs hide under the banner of 'Neutrality'. This sort of thing typically happens in politics and it goes like this. Christians are critiqued (/belittled/shamed/abused) for bringing their religious views into the political sphere. That is how the position gets argued for negatively. At times another step is taken. The secularity of the political sphere is proclaimed (never actually argued for, or even humbly advanced - but declared with the sort of self-confidence that implies that the view is, and should be, obvious to all). That is the approach's positive articulation.
Implicit - but never directly stated - in all this is the assumption that the secular view is neutral and therefore humane, peaceable and unifying (as over and against the loaded, niche, incendiary Christian stance). But it's not just this - this claim to neutrality is actually a hidden claim to Rightness. Theoretically, I'm not sure this need be the case (you could have a sort of 'chastened' claim to neutrality and I suspect many do), but, practically speaking, that's how it plays. When most regard it as acceptable, and even important, to resist, fend off and even shut down actions (like for example, votes taken by Christian politicians), influence or discussion coming from a Christian perspective, then those people clearly believe they are right to do so. They are no different to the Christian who baldly claims to have unique access to the Truth and who - more so in days goneby - does all they can to make sure the State and society does too.
And this is exactly what is being done in the name of neutrality. Sure, there are places reserved for religion (private conversation, inside the walls of the church or mosque), but they are decided by the people who hold the neutral position and are carefully demarcated. But never ever on any grounds should religion be allowed access to the houses of power, that seat where meek neutrality is king.
Implicit - but never directly stated - in all this is the assumption that the secular view is neutral and therefore humane, peaceable and unifying (as over and against the loaded, niche, incendiary Christian stance). But it's not just this - this claim to neutrality is actually a hidden claim to Rightness. Theoretically, I'm not sure this need be the case (you could have a sort of 'chastened' claim to neutrality and I suspect many do), but, practically speaking, that's how it plays. When most regard it as acceptable, and even important, to resist, fend off and even shut down actions (like for example, votes taken by Christian politicians), influence or discussion coming from a Christian perspective, then those people clearly believe they are right to do so. They are no different to the Christian who baldly claims to have unique access to the Truth and who - more so in days goneby - does all they can to make sure the State and society does too.
And this is exactly what is being done in the name of neutrality. Sure, there are places reserved for religion (private conversation, inside the walls of the church or mosque), but they are decided by the people who hold the neutral position and are carefully demarcated. But never ever on any grounds should religion be allowed access to the houses of power, that seat where meek neutrality is king.
Monday, June 10, 2013
To give hope and comfort and all
Here's another thing that has to do with integrity, with consistency in all of life's domains. You see, in my own life's journey, it's the Bible's deep, honest truths to which I continually turn. They are the steady rock that underpins my every day; the shining past and future realities that blow my mind and proffer security and hope. But if I were to say these truths aloud, I'd notice straight away the points at which they pique and clang, where they need background and nuance to be properly understood. Usually I have already done this work. I've battled through the confronting and seemingly contradictory bits and the qualifiers that need to be made, and this gives me all the more confidence in their unadorned form. But when I say them to myself I don't add all the extra stuff in - I just tell myself the plain truth and that is what so marks my days.
But when I'm with my brothers and sisters in Christ I lose this unashamed talk. All the objections and discomfiting parts come to mind and I feel like a simple word would be misleading or ill-received. And it feels too intense - as though to suddenly speak of spiritual things would bring an embarrassing turn to the conversation. Better to listen and mmm and sympathise.
But why, if the things I know are such a help for me in the stuff of my everyday life, why won't they be helpful for others too? To know that a heaven awaits, and so it won't always be like this. That we are a people wracked by sin, that we do things that should not be done and will never be completely rid of it while on this earth, and yet God knows it all and died for us when we were kicking about in our sin. That nonbelivers do bad and foolish things because they are captivated by Satan and blind to the Father, and that's how we would be but that God saved us, so we should show love and pity, pray hard and share the Gospel with them, never thinking ourselves better.
These things can and should shape all our lives. I need to show my siblings the same consideration I show myself and ever speak true.
But when I'm with my brothers and sisters in Christ I lose this unashamed talk. All the objections and discomfiting parts come to mind and I feel like a simple word would be misleading or ill-received. And it feels too intense - as though to suddenly speak of spiritual things would bring an embarrassing turn to the conversation. Better to listen and mmm and sympathise.
But why, if the things I know are such a help for me in the stuff of my everyday life, why won't they be helpful for others too? To know that a heaven awaits, and so it won't always be like this. That we are a people wracked by sin, that we do things that should not be done and will never be completely rid of it while on this earth, and yet God knows it all and died for us when we were kicking about in our sin. That nonbelivers do bad and foolish things because they are captivated by Satan and blind to the Father, and that's how we would be but that God saved us, so we should show love and pity, pray hard and share the Gospel with them, never thinking ourselves better.
These things can and should shape all our lives. I need to show my siblings the same consideration I show myself and ever speak true.
Being human in the big smoke
Anyone who reads this blog with any frequency will know about my ongoing fight with introversion and lack of generosity. Do you know what though? God really has changed me - I'm now genuinely pleased to share my food and time with other people, even at a moment's notice. In earlier days I would've noted these opportunities and kept mum. And I've got loads better at socialising at church too.
But there's a side of generosity I'm yet to nail and it has to do with introversion. It's the generosity of expending yourself in intense/exhausting/scary situations. Don't think I'm about to advocate going all out, pushing so hard against your personality that you collapse in a heap - I think we need to honour the way God made us and spend most of our efforts in the areas in which we shine, in being the part of God's body we were designed to be. But we are called to die to ourselves, to lay down our lives for others, to respond to the situations and people God places in our paths.
Which brings me once more to shopkeepers, beggars and passersby in the street, all of whom I would wish to treat as human. I don't want to be like every other big-city person, be they in Sydney or Santiago (is this really true of every single big city in the world?): shut-off, poker-faced, enveloped in a staged indifference. Not because it doesn't work - it really does, it's very effective. You get by, end up where you need to be, do what you need to do, and you never lose face, get hassled, threatened, or even just inconvenienced. It's great! And cold and inhuman. And I'm good at it - no-one ever looks twice at me (well except to check me out, but there's little you can do about that). I pass for a chilena! Hooray!
But I'm not this soulless in other situations, around the people I know. Then I'm generally - though, to my shame, not always - warm, interested, courteous and respectful. So, you know what the answer is? To not deliberately become another person when I'm out and about, but rather to just keep on being myself. I don't need to turn icy to protect myself, certainly not from inconvenience - if Jesus humbled himself for me I'm sure I can waste five minutes of my time chatting to someone unhinged. And nor do I need to protect myself from danger - God can and will do a finer job of that.
I'm never going to be totally myself in these sort of situations - I'm too much of an introvert for that - but that's okay, I'm just be the awkward version of myself. I've been that way before, even with friends, and no-one died from the experience. And I'm not aiming to go all out, to smile at each person, attend to every opportunity - as an introvert, that level of people-engagement would drain me dry and leave nothing for the women I'm here to serve. But, you know, I'll do my bit.
Monday, June 3, 2013
All over the place
It's been a while. Sorry about that, though not sincerely. It was an accidental thing borne of exhaustion in this new stage (I started my discipleship groups a few weeks ago), then a deliberate choice to change the rhythm of my days, including blog-day-Monday. Blogging's no longer a priority for the day and the fact that I'm now open to it on other days will probably hardly change things. But I still have so much I'd like to say so I'm not giving it up - it's just that I need time to think on Mondays, and not towards an end.
But now it comes to it I find I don't actually have much to say. So please do share in my consciousness. I'm reading a book about how the Christian life is worship before knowledge and practice before worship (a book that very much overplays its hand), and beginning to think what that might mean for my groups. I've found a great, safe place to go dancing and am still revelling in a perfect dance from last Thursday night and trying to put my finger on what it means, while knowing that, if I could, most probably there would be no dance. I'm wondering at how draining my groups are and how much I love our time and how I couldn't keep it up without a rest day and a thinking day and how I can't keep it up without God and how my life would be easier if I had a regular job and how I'd be sad and unsatisfied. And I'm glad for how muddled I can be and how God will answer a heartfelt prayer so well and sweetly. And glum over how sinful I can still be, given the right situation, and how the good things I know don't get through to me then and I get lost in my sin, and how relieved I am that I am forgiven, that I can get up the guts to ask forgiveness, and press on.
And I think I would prefer to live with someone else in a funky suburb a little out of the centre of town. I think I would like to write something, damnit: the great Australian novel, a swath of faultless verse. I think I would like to really roll up my sleeves and 'do life' with 'my women', be a person who takes a moment to call others or send a little note. I think I would like to get married and have some kids.
It's a strange life this. Such rich blessing, such deep, revealed truths, so much security, so much that is okay, so much satisfaction in the things you have to do, so many people caring for you and thinking highly of you, and the deep pleasure of other people's creativity in the buildings and grafitti alone. But then so much that nearl... that falls short, that smells of disappointment. You're knackered and salivating over the chance to watch a film, and you do and it doesn't satisfy and you feel a little dirty for not having done something more wholesome with your time. You have one glorious day to think and write and you never quite get going and anyway, what might you write? And church on Sunday is pure and centred and you trust in your brothers even while you know of their lives, and then it's over and you go home.
And there are these mountains-
But now it comes to it I find I don't actually have much to say. So please do share in my consciousness. I'm reading a book about how the Christian life is worship before knowledge and practice before worship (a book that very much overplays its hand), and beginning to think what that might mean for my groups. I've found a great, safe place to go dancing and am still revelling in a perfect dance from last Thursday night and trying to put my finger on what it means, while knowing that, if I could, most probably there would be no dance. I'm wondering at how draining my groups are and how much I love our time and how I couldn't keep it up without a rest day and a thinking day and how I can't keep it up without God and how my life would be easier if I had a regular job and how I'd be sad and unsatisfied. And I'm glad for how muddled I can be and how God will answer a heartfelt prayer so well and sweetly. And glum over how sinful I can still be, given the right situation, and how the good things I know don't get through to me then and I get lost in my sin, and how relieved I am that I am forgiven, that I can get up the guts to ask forgiveness, and press on.
And I think I would prefer to live with someone else in a funky suburb a little out of the centre of town. I think I would like to write something, damnit: the great Australian novel, a swath of faultless verse. I think I would like to really roll up my sleeves and 'do life' with 'my women', be a person who takes a moment to call others or send a little note. I think I would like to get married and have some kids.
It's a strange life this. Such rich blessing, such deep, revealed truths, so much security, so much that is okay, so much satisfaction in the things you have to do, so many people caring for you and thinking highly of you, and the deep pleasure of other people's creativity in the buildings and grafitti alone. But then so much that nearl... that falls short, that smells of disappointment. You're knackered and salivating over the chance to watch a film, and you do and it doesn't satisfy and you feel a little dirty for not having done something more wholesome with your time. You have one glorious day to think and write and you never quite get going and anyway, what might you write? And church on Sunday is pure and centred and you trust in your brothers even while you know of their lives, and then it's over and you go home.
And there are these mountains-
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