Don't take notes in sermons

Graeme Sayer, from the Christian Reformed Church in Kingston, Tasmania (not Jamaica sadly, man) told me he'd heard someone say it's bad to take notes during sermons - because the purpose of a sermon isn't for people to remember what was said and reflect on it later.

The purpose of a sermon is for people to listen to what God is saying to them NOW and change their thinking and hearts NOW and change their behaviour WHILE ENJOYING A POST-SERMON COFFEE. Ever since he told me, I've stopped taking notes and it's been good. Makes me appreciate, trust in and marvel at God's transforming power.

Post The First

I'm forever sending ideas and links to my Tassie pastors, Dan Shepheard and Mikey Lynch. Mikey suggested I start a blog so THE WORLD MIGHT BENEFIT. So here y'go world: benefit.

And I should just say that some of these will be halfbaked thoughts and provocative angles. I won't necessarily wholeheartedly support them all. Do feel very welcome to add your thoughts and critiques and experience - and what the Bible says if I've steered off course.

Hobby Horse Revisited

Sometimes I worry that I come across as a liberal Christian, someone who has abandoned the difficult, absolute biblical truths for less defined, more palatable understandings. I worry because I do afterall, swear and drink and dance and enjoy Bill Bailey. However I categorically believe in: the hopeless sinfulness of all people; Satan's furious work in the world; the coming judgment; Jesus' resurrection from death and faith in him as the only path from hell to a blessed, eternal life. So why am I so free 'n easy in my behaviour and so dogmatic in my beliefs? Am I a hypocrite?

Well I'm hardly the one to answer that question (despite having asked it - how delightfully pomo heh heh) but I try not to be hypocritical. No, the reason I live the way I do is precisely because my faith is all about these really weighty, ultimate things. Weighty, ultimate things do play out in the details of life - it's not that details are unimportant, but rather that Christianity is not about certain conservative cultural practices.

So I swear because I think that the obscene meaning of these words has been lost, leaving only a useful emphatic function. I drink because alcohol is a good gift from God and drunkness, not temperate drinking, is forbidden. I dance because our bodies are important and good, and it is possible for men and women to relate physically without impurity or lust. I enjoy Bill Bailey because he's astute and cheeky, but I hit fastforward when he gets too crass or irreverent.

Being socially conservative doesn't get my knickers in a knot. The sort of things that bother me are lying, thinking lustfully about someone else's husband, abandoning self-control, flaunting my body, jealously, pride, selfishness and unforgiveness. It's my ardent desire not to allow myself any liberality when it comes to these things.

I guess I just hope - and pray - that people don't assume they've got me figured. I hope that, at the very least, I'll puzzle them and get them to think. This Christian faith is not what you might expect. It's a faith in which physical creation is to be celebrated and enjoyed, in which sin is everywhere found but conquered by love, in which the poor in spirit gain the kingdom of heaven.

The Jewish Museum

A canny eighty five year old gentleman showed a couple of ladies and I around the Sydney Jewish Museum. As we passed a photograph of men building a wall to divide a Polish city into Jewish and non-Jewish parts, he mentioned that he had seen it under construction. Another photo showed precise lines of Nazi soldiers marching into Poland: he had seen that too. I asked about his family and he said they'd been gassed. At the children's memorial our guide seemed to have as much difficulty as I grasping that people had killed these little children. (Later I remembered that even in peace the killings go on.) He had escaped from a concentration camp, one of only a handful to do so. I stupidly asked him if in his subsequent employment, he had to pretend to be a Christian . . . I wanted to say sorry to him on behalf of all the Christians who did nothing to stop the genocide of his people.

I went around again later and looked at newspaper accounts of the situation in Germany and the Second World War. Before the outbreak of war there was some quite detailed reporting of violence against Jewish people. After the war began, the newspaper accounts were all about Hitler's demands and the progress of the war. I didn't notice anything about concentration camps or what was happening to the Jews. The style of writing, the layout and the mixture of grave world events and both serious and sensational local news was pretty similar to today's broadsheets. I could imagine myself back then reading the Australian papers, concerned for the Jews, then turning the page and forgetting them. As the war began, I doubt I would even remember they had been mixed up in its beginning. I'd just want the allies to win.

In the section on the Jewish faith there were exhibits about the Hebrew Bible. I was so grateful that on the foundation of these people's faith, salvation came to a Gentile like myself. I felt like saying yes, I agree with all this – this is the true and glorious record of the one God. But then I read of their Zionist hopes and looking for a Messiah. A computer was set up with answers to frequently asked questions on its screen. I clicked on, “Why don't Jews believe that Jesus is the Messiah?”. The answer given was that the Messiah will establish the nation of Israel and bring peace and prosperity to earth. It grieved me to see the mistake and sin of their fathers being repeated 5000 years on. I felt like crying out, “The Messiah has come! There is good news! What you hope for has happened and more gloriously than you ever imagined!”. But they were closing early for Sabbath and I didn't even get to write in the Visitor's Book.

My Christian Brothers

I grew up with a little brother. I think he's wonderful and I love him very much. I feel very lucky to have him.

These days I've also got lots of other brothers. They're my Christian brothers and I love them too. I know that relationships between men and women can be complicated and fraught, so that makes me all the more grateful for these guys.

Let me describe what these relationships are like. I don't usually end up having close friendships with my Christian brothers unless they're single or I know their wives. But either way, it's still caring and respectful. Chrsitian brothers of mine have told me I look lovely today, fixed my bike, insisted they drive me home when it's dark, chatted with me, asked me to pray for them, reassured me when I've got a bad mark. Stuff like that. The other day we had a seminar at college about how to care for people addicted to porn. We were asked to talk to the person next to us about how we like people to respond when we tell them something we're going through. Sitting next to me was a Christian brother I'd not met before. We acknowledged that it was a bit wierd to talk about such personal stuff when we didn't know each other, but then we just talked about it and it was fine. We respected and trusted each other.

You know, a lot of the time when I walk down the street or in town or wherever I can tell that men are checking me out. I don't like it - it feels kind of predatory and sleazy and a bit scary. But I never get that feeling around Christian men. I feel respected, and honoured I guess.

I love my Christian brothers. I think it's especially nice to have them around when you're single. They help me not to feel unlikeable or unattractive or unworthy. They help me feel valued and honoured and cared for. I have so much respect and affection for these guys.

I thank Jesus for breaking down the walls that divide men and women, and for enabling us to relate in healthy, respectful, affirming and pure ways.

An Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman walk into a bar . . .

We should only use the word "Australian" when we intend to refer to everyone who lives here, including newer migrants, who have equal right to the title, and Aboriginal Australians, who have more. We have other words to indicate a person's race or country of origin - Chinese, Asian, African, Latin American (latino?) . . . and Anglo. Fellow Anglos, let's avoid implying that we are the only Australians.

My Driving Forces: Approval, Understanding and Love

I crave understanding, approval (actually acclaim) and love. Perhaps the biggest sin I fall into is to seek these things from people before God. This leads me to think too highly or too little of myself; to sometimes feel elated and proud, and sometimes crushed and unconfident. I'm trying to learn to find all this in God. Every day I battle to be humble and satisfied in him.

This is pretty crazy and only goes to show how stupid and sinful I am, because I have a God who is far above me in every way, who gave me my every talent and who is abundantly satisfying. He knit me together in my Mum's womb and created every facet of my personality. He is pleased to say "well done" when I have done well. He defined love by sending his Son to die for me. So, with his help, I trust I'll get better at these things day by day.