OK, you have to give me credit for going a few posts without mentioning some kind of superhero? Maybe you won't, but I accept that I'm a geek and a nerd and still make a beeline for films based on comics I used to read when I was younger. Note, used to read!
Anyway, I didn't get to see Bryan Singer's Superman Returns at the cinema, and watched it this week after succumbing to the low price strategies currently being employed with great success by some high street shops to drag mugs like me inside their doors and convince them to part with their cash in exchange for DVDs.
It's a great film.
In terms of reflecting on the film though, I became aware of how few people actually seek out relationship with Superman. Sure, there's Lois Lane, but there are segments of the film showing Superman rescuing people all across the world. Yet they are only interested in him when he is saving them. Not before, not after. They want to know Superman is around for peace of mind in difficult times, but that's as far as it goes.
Now, this is reflection was influenced in light of the work I'd done on the magi post I wrote earlier in the week. I'm still amazed at how close Bethlehem and Jerusalem are, and I'd never noticed that before. I puzzled as to why the religious leaders didn't bother to go with the magi to find the baby. I figured it was because they were looking for a messiah to deliver them and a baby didn't fit that bill. Maybe they'd wait until he was a bit older and posed a real threat to the political status quo, but thought there was no point taking an interest in him until he actually proved his worth. And so they stayed at Herod's court. Maybe they liked they were inwardly thrilled at the idea that their hoped for messiah had arrived. But they would wait until he did something first.
Just to clear things up, I'm convinced Jesus is real and also healthily convinced that Superman is a fictional comic book character. But I'm convinced that this behaviour of only wanting a saviour in times of need is one that does pervade our culture. I know people who accept that Jesus existed, but want to treat him as some kind of divine rubber ring, stationed in an easy to reach place on the edge of the waters of their life, ready to come to their aid if they should get into difficulty.
But there is so much more to him than that.
Just imagine. If the citizens of Metropolis wanted to get to know Superman, outside of him saving their necks, they could find out all about where he came from, why and see their lives differently.
Just imagine if we took the same approach with Jesus. Not just at Christmas, but all the time-wanting to get to know him and not just to call out to him in times of difficulty. In seeking a relationship with him, everything changes. As Philip Yancey writes, no one who meets him ever stays the same.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Trying To Solve Algebra Equations By Chewing Bubblegum
I successfully managed to avoid sleeping properly last night. This was not a deliberate endurance challenge or some kind of well paid medical experiment. More of a consequence of allowing myself to get on the treadmill of worrying about things. Things which I knew I could do nothing about in the early hours of the morning, but somehow decided were still worth ruminating on for prolonged periods.
Jesus famously taught us not to worry about tomorrow. In fact, he followed up this statement by pointing out the reason for not worrying-that tomorrow has enough trouble of its own and there is therefore no need to add to the troubles each day brings.
After reading such statements, I wonder how it is that some sections of Christianity focus on the concept that following Jesus is some guarantee of an easy ride. He certainly never taught that, and that is not the road that was before him during his earthly ministry.
But I find it encouraging knowing that my Saviour understands the world in which I live. And whereas my worries may not dissolve overnight, I can take solace in the fact that one day, all will be restored with no more tears and no things to fret over.
In the meantime, I understand today why it's important not to worry. Because my lack of sleep yesterday due to worries can have a ruinous impact on my day today. And that could mean mistakes made, words misspoken and generally cause more things to worry about.
If only I'd reread that passage in Matthew 6:24-34 last night. Maybe I would have slept better.
Jesus famously taught us not to worry about tomorrow. In fact, he followed up this statement by pointing out the reason for not worrying-that tomorrow has enough trouble of its own and there is therefore no need to add to the troubles each day brings.
After reading such statements, I wonder how it is that some sections of Christianity focus on the concept that following Jesus is some guarantee of an easy ride. He certainly never taught that, and that is not the road that was before him during his earthly ministry.
But I find it encouraging knowing that my Saviour understands the world in which I live. And whereas my worries may not dissolve overnight, I can take solace in the fact that one day, all will be restored with no more tears and no things to fret over.
In the meantime, I understand today why it's important not to worry. Because my lack of sleep yesterday due to worries can have a ruinous impact on my day today. And that could mean mistakes made, words misspoken and generally cause more things to worry about.
If only I'd reread that passage in Matthew 6:24-34 last night. Maybe I would have slept better.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
The Generation Game
Recently at our church we had a generation sharing moment, and split the congregation into the traditional market research categories, you know, the ones that rudely awaken most people into realising that they aren't as young as they thought.
On this occasion, I got a shock in addition to the now obligatory reminder that I'm nearly 30.
I was the only member of the congregation to fit in the 21-30 category.
I cast my mind onto those not in attendance and worked out that even with the absent folk, literally only a handful of people in our church fit into this age category.
I don't really know the breakdown of the ages for others churches in Andover, but don't feel optimistic that any of them are hiding away hordes of people in their twenties.
Maybe it's just an Andover phenomenon. Perhaps bigger towns and cities find it easier to attract twentysomethings and keep them part of the church family.
But I've been alone with this thought for a couple of weeks, so thought I'd blog it in the hope that it stops bothering me.
In a way, I hope it doesn't though.
It reminds me that for all my concentration on working with young people and getting the message out to them, there's an even greater need to get the message out to my peers. It may be more difficult to appeal to them, as the lure of careers, mortgages, socialising, relationships and so on gradually impeaches on their time.
But it's necessary to take on the challenge of doing what is difficult.
Without that, there will be a missing generation in our church.
On this occasion, I got a shock in addition to the now obligatory reminder that I'm nearly 30.
I was the only member of the congregation to fit in the 21-30 category.
I cast my mind onto those not in attendance and worked out that even with the absent folk, literally only a handful of people in our church fit into this age category.
I don't really know the breakdown of the ages for others churches in Andover, but don't feel optimistic that any of them are hiding away hordes of people in their twenties.
Maybe it's just an Andover phenomenon. Perhaps bigger towns and cities find it easier to attract twentysomethings and keep them part of the church family.
But I've been alone with this thought for a couple of weeks, so thought I'd blog it in the hope that it stops bothering me.
In a way, I hope it doesn't though.
It reminds me that for all my concentration on working with young people and getting the message out to them, there's an even greater need to get the message out to my peers. It may be more difficult to appeal to them, as the lure of careers, mortgages, socialising, relationships and so on gradually impeaches on their time.
But it's necessary to take on the challenge of doing what is difficult.
Without that, there will be a missing generation in our church.
Why Heaven Isn't A Half Pipe
I've had the day off work today and have spent around three hours wondering around carrying out various tasks. And now my knee hurts.
Now, I'm not going to waste blog space by bemoaning the state of pavements or the potentially leg breaking movements required to avoid the marauding terror represented by twin pushchairs, overloaded with children and massive bags of Christmas shopping.
Instead, in a cheap attempt to provide my readership with a few laughs, I will explain how it came to be that I'm now wincing in pain after some relatively straightforward exercise.
In June 2005 I made my first venture into a skate park. Thankfully, this was not some kind of mid-twenties crisis-I was one of the adults accompanying some of the young people from my church and some of those who attend Fusion.
Looking back now, I realise that had I kept this clear divide, reminding myself that I was an adult with a job to go to and many bills to pay and that these were young people I served and who would heal a lot faster than me, things would probably be different today.
Throughout the course of the evening, I began to develop the foolish notion that this skateboarding lark couldn't be that difficult. After all, I go surfing and I'm not a great swimmer, so if I could conquer those issues and develop the necessary skills to surf, surely skatebaording and blading would be no different?
I managed to keep such ideas to myself for the majority of the evening, until the point in the evening was reached where the young people began to dare the leaders to tackle a variety of hazardous challenges.
Hannah was dared first, to go down the half pipe on her blades. To set this in context, the half pipe is about seven feet high of curved wood with a mattress of concrete at the bottom.
Hannah understandably had a variety of reservations about completing this challenge but the young people had already decided that they weren't going home without seeing one of their youth leaders make a public fool of themselves. Seeing as that comes particularly easily to me, and in light of self talk earlier declaring that "It can't be that hard", I stepped up.
Squeezing into a borrowed pair of blades that were two sizes too small for me, I approached the edge of the half pipe. Little did I know, doubts over my ability to do this were also at the edge of the half pipe. But I couldn't possibly back down now. That would make me look stupid.
Although, not as stupid as I would look a few seconds later.
With a deep breath, I stepped forward and began to roll down the half pipe.
And I fell.
To describe me as falling with style would have been a generous overstatement. An ungainly mess of wheels, flailing limbs and panic stricken expressions would be more accurate.
And now I was in the really dangerous place. It surely could not be that difficult to do. So, I hauled myself up back to the top of the half pipe for my second attempt.
Second attempt, same result.
The second attempt was when I began to feel the pain in my right knee and lower back, but the laughter had somehow knocked into my pride during the second fall.
So I tried a third time.
Dragging myself up the slope again, resembling the moment in Revenge of The Sith when Anakin Skywalker, minus arms and legs tries, to pull himself up a hill, I was certain I could complete the challenge this time.
No chance. As I crashed down this time, the laughter was tempered with a few sympathetic murmurs as the pathetic spectacle clattered into the ground again.
The protest from inside me meant that this was definitely my last attempt. As I got back to the top of the ramp and took the blades off, Hannah completed her descent of the half pipe on the first attempt.
In time, people who were there began to say encouraging things, like I had deliberately put myself in that position to relate to our young people. Maybe. But realistically, as soon as that first attempt had failed, it was stupid male pride that had driven me to throw myself down the ramp on two further occasions.
Stupid male pride that probably explains why my knee hurts today.
Now, I'm not going to waste blog space by bemoaning the state of pavements or the potentially leg breaking movements required to avoid the marauding terror represented by twin pushchairs, overloaded with children and massive bags of Christmas shopping.
Instead, in a cheap attempt to provide my readership with a few laughs, I will explain how it came to be that I'm now wincing in pain after some relatively straightforward exercise.
In June 2005 I made my first venture into a skate park. Thankfully, this was not some kind of mid-twenties crisis-I was one of the adults accompanying some of the young people from my church and some of those who attend Fusion.
Looking back now, I realise that had I kept this clear divide, reminding myself that I was an adult with a job to go to and many bills to pay and that these were young people I served and who would heal a lot faster than me, things would probably be different today.
Throughout the course of the evening, I began to develop the foolish notion that this skateboarding lark couldn't be that difficult. After all, I go surfing and I'm not a great swimmer, so if I could conquer those issues and develop the necessary skills to surf, surely skatebaording and blading would be no different?
I managed to keep such ideas to myself for the majority of the evening, until the point in the evening was reached where the young people began to dare the leaders to tackle a variety of hazardous challenges.
Hannah was dared first, to go down the half pipe on her blades. To set this in context, the half pipe is about seven feet high of curved wood with a mattress of concrete at the bottom.
Hannah understandably had a variety of reservations about completing this challenge but the young people had already decided that they weren't going home without seeing one of their youth leaders make a public fool of themselves. Seeing as that comes particularly easily to me, and in light of self talk earlier declaring that "It can't be that hard", I stepped up.
Squeezing into a borrowed pair of blades that were two sizes too small for me, I approached the edge of the half pipe. Little did I know, doubts over my ability to do this were also at the edge of the half pipe. But I couldn't possibly back down now. That would make me look stupid.
Although, not as stupid as I would look a few seconds later.
With a deep breath, I stepped forward and began to roll down the half pipe.
And I fell.
To describe me as falling with style would have been a generous overstatement. An ungainly mess of wheels, flailing limbs and panic stricken expressions would be more accurate.
And now I was in the really dangerous place. It surely could not be that difficult to do. So, I hauled myself up back to the top of the half pipe for my second attempt.
Second attempt, same result.
The second attempt was when I began to feel the pain in my right knee and lower back, but the laughter had somehow knocked into my pride during the second fall.
So I tried a third time.
Dragging myself up the slope again, resembling the moment in Revenge of The Sith when Anakin Skywalker, minus arms and legs tries, to pull himself up a hill, I was certain I could complete the challenge this time.
No chance. As I crashed down this time, the laughter was tempered with a few sympathetic murmurs as the pathetic spectacle clattered into the ground again.
The protest from inside me meant that this was definitely my last attempt. As I got back to the top of the ramp and took the blades off, Hannah completed her descent of the half pipe on the first attempt.
In time, people who were there began to say encouraging things, like I had deliberately put myself in that position to relate to our young people. Maybe. But realistically, as soon as that first attempt had failed, it was stupid male pride that had driven me to throw myself down the ramp on two further occasions.
Stupid male pride that probably explains why my knee hurts today.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Magi
I didn't expect our arrival in Jerusalem to cause as much upheaval as it did. After all, we had journeyed with the expectation of finding the baby who was born to be king of the Jews. Herod and his people developed faces filled with anguish and panic.
Not that we hadn't suddenly become worried either. Thoughts flashed across my mind. Had the long journey all been in vain? Is it possible that we could have misread the stars?
We didn't get any answers to where the King had been born during that first audience with Herod. As we were ushered out of the throne room, we overheard instructions being made to assemble the chief priests and teachers of the law. I began to feel optimistic again. If we had made mistakes on the way, surely the religious leaders would have ideas as to where their promised king had been born. Maybe they could even guide us as to where he would be.
I can't explain how uneasy I felt on hearing that we had been summoned to a private meeting with Herod. It didn't take long to have heard rumours of Herod's cruelty around the court. I didn't particularly relish the prospect of being isolated in the presence of a man who had shown no qualms about ordering the execution of his wife, mother-in-law and his own eldest son. Although we were respectable people, I had no doubt that if he could murder members of his own family, he'd have no problem permanently removing us foreigners from his court and life itself.
However, it was Herod the politician we encountered behind closed doors. After asking for more explanation of how we had followed the star, he explained that the chief priests had outlined to him that Bethlehem was the place where the king would have been born. In the course of this discussion, we were involuntarily recruited by Herod to go to Bethlehem to confirm the birth of the king and report back to him. So he could come and worship him, he said. I felt uneasy.
Preparing to head for Bethlehem, you can't imagine how relieved and excited we were when the star that had set us off on this long journey in the first place appeared to be going ahead of us. We weren't just doing an errand for Herod, there was a sense that something altogether more important would be there at our journey's end.
Soon we arrived in Bethlehem. The star stopped over a house. Inside we found a couple and a child.
In hindsight, there should be something embarrassing about a group of grown men not just giving gifts, but falling to their knees and worshipping a child. But when we saw him, it didn't feel like there was an option not to fall down before the infant. Shame was chased away and our hitherto expensive gifts seemed insignificant.
He was just worthy of being worshipped.
That night, the peaceful sleep you would assume would follow after a long journey is completed failed to materialise. The most vivid dreams about the hideous consequences of letting Herod know where to find the king. One of us having this dream would be enough to put down to chance. But the morning brought the revelation that we had all had been shaken by the same vivid dream.
I looked over my shoulder a number of times as we started off on our alternative route home. Herod would no doubt find our decision not to return to his court with information tantamount to treason and would surely show us no mercy. More importantly, I didn't want our presence in the area to give away the location of the baby king, as the dream had convinced me that Herod had nothing but elimination planned for the child. The six miles between Bethlehem and Jerusalem was not nearly enough distance to be considered safe as far as I was concerned.
As soon as we had reached a safe distance away, thoughts turned from the threat posed by Herod to contemplation on the wondrous sight that we had found in Bethlehem.
How would his kingdom be brought about? Would he remember us?
Despite the great distance that lay between our location and home, and the distance in years that would have to go by before the baby king had grown up and could establish his kingdom, I had an unshakable feeling in my heart.
My eyes had seen the king.
Not that we hadn't suddenly become worried either. Thoughts flashed across my mind. Had the long journey all been in vain? Is it possible that we could have misread the stars?
We didn't get any answers to where the King had been born during that first audience with Herod. As we were ushered out of the throne room, we overheard instructions being made to assemble the chief priests and teachers of the law. I began to feel optimistic again. If we had made mistakes on the way, surely the religious leaders would have ideas as to where their promised king had been born. Maybe they could even guide us as to where he would be.
I can't explain how uneasy I felt on hearing that we had been summoned to a private meeting with Herod. It didn't take long to have heard rumours of Herod's cruelty around the court. I didn't particularly relish the prospect of being isolated in the presence of a man who had shown no qualms about ordering the execution of his wife, mother-in-law and his own eldest son. Although we were respectable people, I had no doubt that if he could murder members of his own family, he'd have no problem permanently removing us foreigners from his court and life itself.
However, it was Herod the politician we encountered behind closed doors. After asking for more explanation of how we had followed the star, he explained that the chief priests had outlined to him that Bethlehem was the place where the king would have been born. In the course of this discussion, we were involuntarily recruited by Herod to go to Bethlehem to confirm the birth of the king and report back to him. So he could come and worship him, he said. I felt uneasy.
Preparing to head for Bethlehem, you can't imagine how relieved and excited we were when the star that had set us off on this long journey in the first place appeared to be going ahead of us. We weren't just doing an errand for Herod, there was a sense that something altogether more important would be there at our journey's end.
Soon we arrived in Bethlehem. The star stopped over a house. Inside we found a couple and a child.
In hindsight, there should be something embarrassing about a group of grown men not just giving gifts, but falling to their knees and worshipping a child. But when we saw him, it didn't feel like there was an option not to fall down before the infant. Shame was chased away and our hitherto expensive gifts seemed insignificant.
He was just worthy of being worshipped.
That night, the peaceful sleep you would assume would follow after a long journey is completed failed to materialise. The most vivid dreams about the hideous consequences of letting Herod know where to find the king. One of us having this dream would be enough to put down to chance. But the morning brought the revelation that we had all had been shaken by the same vivid dream.
I looked over my shoulder a number of times as we started off on our alternative route home. Herod would no doubt find our decision not to return to his court with information tantamount to treason and would surely show us no mercy. More importantly, I didn't want our presence in the area to give away the location of the baby king, as the dream had convinced me that Herod had nothing but elimination planned for the child. The six miles between Bethlehem and Jerusalem was not nearly enough distance to be considered safe as far as I was concerned.
As soon as we had reached a safe distance away, thoughts turned from the threat posed by Herod to contemplation on the wondrous sight that we had found in Bethlehem.
How would his kingdom be brought about? Would he remember us?
Despite the great distance that lay between our location and home, and the distance in years that would have to go by before the baby king had grown up and could establish his kingdom, I had an unshakable feeling in my heart.
My eyes had seen the king.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Fusion 8/12/06
Sum total of last night at Fusion:
2 young people attacked outside the building.
2 emergency service phone calls.
1 bag of ice cubes.
1 confrontation with two incredibly abusive and extremely inebriated young men who did not take kindly to my observation that they were possibly over our 11-18 age limit.
4 drunken teenagers.
1 birthday card.
2 splintered bannister poles.
1 unhelpful taxi driver.
1 helpful taxi driver.
Instances of general rudeness and negative attitudes amongst those in attendance? Too numerous to recount.
1 27 year old youth leader who in the face of all the above, didn't look a thing like Jesus. Or act like him.
1 amazing team of young leaders who in spite of all the chaos unfolding around them, served diligently, carried out their roles with dedication and showed their devotion by making sure the evening closed with prayer and worship to the One who inspired us to do this event in the first place.
Jamie was right. The evening could have been worse.
2 young people attacked outside the building.
2 emergency service phone calls.
1 bag of ice cubes.
1 confrontation with two incredibly abusive and extremely inebriated young men who did not take kindly to my observation that they were possibly over our 11-18 age limit.
4 drunken teenagers.
1 birthday card.
2 splintered bannister poles.
1 unhelpful taxi driver.
1 helpful taxi driver.
Instances of general rudeness and negative attitudes amongst those in attendance? Too numerous to recount.
1 27 year old youth leader who in the face of all the above, didn't look a thing like Jesus. Or act like him.
1 amazing team of young leaders who in spite of all the chaos unfolding around them, served diligently, carried out their roles with dedication and showed their devotion by making sure the evening closed with prayer and worship to the One who inspired us to do this event in the first place.
Jamie was right. The evening could have been worse.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
On The 6:28
The turning back of the clocks has meant that the stern faced, silent crowd that board the 6.28 train from Andover to London are surrounded by darkness during the long minutes that tick by before the train arrives and many of the crowd can return to sleep when they commandeer a seat.
I've taken to grabbing the seat outside the main carriage, you know, the one that pulls down like a cinema chair but only gives you a view of the grey walls of the train, or even worse, is outside the toilet. As the train pulls away, I look out of the window and see the same darkness for the entire twenty minutes that I am on board before my stop arrives.
But there was something different about a recent journey.
The carriages were all changed around, causing chaos to the 6.29 faithful who have gotten used to knowing exactly which concrete slabs to stand on so that they can get through the doors first. When I managed to grab the cinema seat, I realised that something else was different. I was facing the other way, the direction that the train was headed for.
And rather than staring into the pitch darkness of a cold, miserable November morning, there was something else for my eyes to focus on; the splintering of the darkness and the emerging sun rapidly raising the curtain on a brand new day.
Sure, there was darkness behind me. But in front of me was something altogether more exciting.
I've taken to grabbing the seat outside the main carriage, you know, the one that pulls down like a cinema chair but only gives you a view of the grey walls of the train, or even worse, is outside the toilet. As the train pulls away, I look out of the window and see the same darkness for the entire twenty minutes that I am on board before my stop arrives.
But there was something different about a recent journey.
The carriages were all changed around, causing chaos to the 6.29 faithful who have gotten used to knowing exactly which concrete slabs to stand on so that they can get through the doors first. When I managed to grab the cinema seat, I realised that something else was different. I was facing the other way, the direction that the train was headed for.
And rather than staring into the pitch darkness of a cold, miserable November morning, there was something else for my eyes to focus on; the splintering of the darkness and the emerging sun rapidly raising the curtain on a brand new day.
Sure, there was darkness behind me. But in front of me was something altogether more exciting.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
The Whistler
I sat in a park eating my lunch this week.
There was a man in the middle of the field, whistling.
Fifteen minutes of whistling.
Just whistling.
Rooted to the same spot.
After fifteen minutes, by which time I had confirmed that I should classify this gentleman as absolutely loopy, a dog burst through from some nearby bushes and hurtled at great speed towards the whistling man.
Then the man and the dog walked on together.
I don't like drawing spiritual parallels with regards to dogs, but I wonder how often, like that dog, I am ignoring God's calls to me to go where He is.
I like to think that recently I've been on a burst of increased fervour with regards to my relationship with God.
But maybe He's been asking me to be there with Him for ages, and my recent progress is actually the equivilent of that dog suddenly realising that the whistle was aimed at him and that he needed to move fast. That what is progress for me is just getting to where I was supposed to be all along, if I had been listening to the call.
There was a man in the middle of the field, whistling.
Fifteen minutes of whistling.
Just whistling.
Rooted to the same spot.
After fifteen minutes, by which time I had confirmed that I should classify this gentleman as absolutely loopy, a dog burst through from some nearby bushes and hurtled at great speed towards the whistling man.
Then the man and the dog walked on together.
I don't like drawing spiritual parallels with regards to dogs, but I wonder how often, like that dog, I am ignoring God's calls to me to go where He is.
I like to think that recently I've been on a burst of increased fervour with regards to my relationship with God.
But maybe He's been asking me to be there with Him for ages, and my recent progress is actually the equivilent of that dog suddenly realising that the whistle was aimed at him and that he needed to move fast. That what is progress for me is just getting to where I was supposed to be all along, if I had been listening to the call.
The Mini Bus Of Despair
I tried to block out the noise, but without success.
They were all around me in the mini bus.
Teenagers.
They were being rude, deliberately offensive and consistently unresponsive to my requests for some more reasonable behaviour towards each other.
And we were still over half an hour away from home.
As I descended deeper in silent depths of discouragement and despair, I was reminded of a challenging mission I set myself recently. That whenever I have somebody before me in need, to ask myself who else is going to help this person, and who is else there praying for this person.
I realised that this Wednesday evening trip to Laserquest was the practical side of things, and that as we were now on the way home, the most significant and revolutionary thing I could do was pray quietly for everyone on the bus and the various situations they faced on a daily basis.
So I prayed.
Time passed.
No change to the noise level and crude conversation topics.
We arrived back into Andover.
I felt different.
The noise, bad language and bad behaviour hadn't changed as a result of my prayers. But I had changed.
My prayers actually had done me more good on this occasion, reminding me of the need to forget myself and why it is that I use hours of my free time on a weekly basis to work with young people.
I realised it's a privilege to work with the young people I see each week, no matter what bad press gets given to teenagers in the press.
I understood how prayer can actually tune me out of my selfish frequency, and get me onto God's wavelength, enabling me to see the issues before me from His perspective rather than my own.
And who knows what longer term impacts my prayers might have on the lives of those young people. Certainly not me.
But God does.
They were all around me in the mini bus.
Teenagers.
They were being rude, deliberately offensive and consistently unresponsive to my requests for some more reasonable behaviour towards each other.
And we were still over half an hour away from home.
As I descended deeper in silent depths of discouragement and despair, I was reminded of a challenging mission I set myself recently. That whenever I have somebody before me in need, to ask myself who else is going to help this person, and who is else there praying for this person.
I realised that this Wednesday evening trip to Laserquest was the practical side of things, and that as we were now on the way home, the most significant and revolutionary thing I could do was pray quietly for everyone on the bus and the various situations they faced on a daily basis.
So I prayed.
Time passed.
No change to the noise level and crude conversation topics.
We arrived back into Andover.
I felt different.
The noise, bad language and bad behaviour hadn't changed as a result of my prayers. But I had changed.
My prayers actually had done me more good on this occasion, reminding me of the need to forget myself and why it is that I use hours of my free time on a weekly basis to work with young people.
I realised it's a privilege to work with the young people I see each week, no matter what bad press gets given to teenagers in the press.
I understood how prayer can actually tune me out of my selfish frequency, and get me onto God's wavelength, enabling me to see the issues before me from His perspective rather than my own.
And who knows what longer term impacts my prayers might have on the lives of those young people. Certainly not me.
But God does.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Click
My first trip to the cinema in absolutely ages took me to see Click, the new Adam Sandler film.
Having got over the excitement of seeing the trailer for Spiderman 3, the film proved quite enjoyable. It tells the tale of hard working Michael Newman who comes into possession of a remote control that controls...his life. Without spoiling the ending, what starts out as a gadget that makes Michael's day to day living easier, eventually begins to overrule his choices automatically and take him away from what is most important to him.
Apart from opting to go for a safe, Hollywood pleasing ending rather than one which would have been thought provoking, the film hit home a couple of points.
Firstly, our modern obsession with control. We want things to be easy, and to have everything on our terms. We are the most important people in the universe. Philip Yancey's new book 'Prayer' quotes theologian Daniel Hawk who states 'the basic human problem is that everyone believes that there is a God and I am it'. Incidentally, the theological geek in me remembered that Michael means 'he who is like God'. I wonder if the makers of Click realised this as they gave their central character this name as he acted out as someone who believed he was God of his own life.
Uncomfortable as it may be, I agree with Hawk. We all want to have life on our own terms, to be God, without any consequences. If anything, Click helped remind me that the easy way, chosing to live as though the only God is me and that I should insist on my right to do whatever is best for me has shallow and ultimately dire consequences.
Now we come to the part where I have to work hard to avoid spoiling the plot totally. The other hard hitting message of the film comes as Michael hauls himself from his hospital bed to stagger after his son to give him a message. (For those of you keeping score at home, yes, this bit did make me cry).
The message is this: 'Family comes first'.
Not a bad thing to go out for some entertainment and leave with a reminder to keep in mind when faced with Monday's work pressures.
Don't crumble to the demands of workaholism or be tempted by the easy way out.
Ignore what the world says is important. Don't listen to the tyranny of the urgent.
Family comes first.
Having got over the excitement of seeing the trailer for Spiderman 3, the film proved quite enjoyable. It tells the tale of hard working Michael Newman who comes into possession of a remote control that controls...his life. Without spoiling the ending, what starts out as a gadget that makes Michael's day to day living easier, eventually begins to overrule his choices automatically and take him away from what is most important to him.
Apart from opting to go for a safe, Hollywood pleasing ending rather than one which would have been thought provoking, the film hit home a couple of points.
Firstly, our modern obsession with control. We want things to be easy, and to have everything on our terms. We are the most important people in the universe. Philip Yancey's new book 'Prayer' quotes theologian Daniel Hawk who states 'the basic human problem is that everyone believes that there is a God and I am it'. Incidentally, the theological geek in me remembered that Michael means 'he who is like God'. I wonder if the makers of Click realised this as they gave their central character this name as he acted out as someone who believed he was God of his own life.
Uncomfortable as it may be, I agree with Hawk. We all want to have life on our own terms, to be God, without any consequences. If anything, Click helped remind me that the easy way, chosing to live as though the only God is me and that I should insist on my right to do whatever is best for me has shallow and ultimately dire consequences.
Now we come to the part where I have to work hard to avoid spoiling the plot totally. The other hard hitting message of the film comes as Michael hauls himself from his hospital bed to stagger after his son to give him a message. (For those of you keeping score at home, yes, this bit did make me cry).
The message is this: 'Family comes first'.
Not a bad thing to go out for some entertainment and leave with a reminder to keep in mind when faced with Monday's work pressures.
Don't crumble to the demands of workaholism or be tempted by the easy way out.
Ignore what the world says is important. Don't listen to the tyranny of the urgent.
Family comes first.
14 Years
Spent some time with old friends on Saturday.
The first one of our clique hits 28 years of age next weekend.
As the increasingly regular cloud of nostalgia descended on the balcony where we were chatting, it dawned on us that we were all 14 years old when we meet.
Those of you with mathematical tendencies will see where I am going with this.
We've been friends for half our lives.
A friendship group that has enjoyed and endured school exams, different colleges, different universities, two weeks in Greece, religious and political differences, a wild Millennium eve party, round the world trips, Man Utd winning, relationship break ups, Man Utd losing, Oasis at Knebworth, poker, a weekend in Madrid and much more that I cannot list here without incriminating the innocent.
I've blogged on how great my friends are before, and hope that they are aware of it in the way I am when I'm with them, not just when they see these messages.
In a life full of uncertainty, it's good to have moments like this.
If I know anything, I know I am blessed.
The first one of our clique hits 28 years of age next weekend.
As the increasingly regular cloud of nostalgia descended on the balcony where we were chatting, it dawned on us that we were all 14 years old when we meet.
Those of you with mathematical tendencies will see where I am going with this.
We've been friends for half our lives.
A friendship group that has enjoyed and endured school exams, different colleges, different universities, two weeks in Greece, religious and political differences, a wild Millennium eve party, round the world trips, Man Utd winning, relationship break ups, Man Utd losing, Oasis at Knebworth, poker, a weekend in Madrid and much more that I cannot list here without incriminating the innocent.
I've blogged on how great my friends are before, and hope that they are aware of it in the way I am when I'm with them, not just when they see these messages.
In a life full of uncertainty, it's good to have moments like this.
If I know anything, I know I am blessed.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Things I Discovered During A Weekend In Dublin
It is possible to mix Paul Simon's 'You Can Call Me Al', 'Sweet Child O' Mine' by Guns 'n 'Roses and 'Jump Around' by House of Pain together in the same DJ set.
Eating a whole tub of Ben and Jerry's ice cream is the equivilent in fat content to consuming a carton of Flora margarine. (But nowhere near as tasty I would presume)
Being face to face with a tiger isn't scary when there is an inch of glass between you. However, seeing a sleeping boa constrictor and witnessing a mole snake eat a mouse whilst separated between the same quantity of glass makes me disappear rapidly into my jumper.
Guinness tastes better in Dublin.
I can't convert prices from Sterling to Euros in my head nearly as fast as I would like.
A bowlful of Irish stew is very filling.
If a U2 song is played in a pub, everyone sings along.
The builders of a church opposite the apartment we stayed in dedicated their work by inscribing 'Deo.Optimo.Maximo' across the front of the building. I remembered I don't know any Latin, so had to look the meaning up. It means 'To God, most good, most great'. I thought how great it would be if everything I did was worthy of dedication to a most great, most good God.
Eating a whole tub of Ben and Jerry's ice cream is the equivilent in fat content to consuming a carton of Flora margarine. (But nowhere near as tasty I would presume)
Being face to face with a tiger isn't scary when there is an inch of glass between you. However, seeing a sleeping boa constrictor and witnessing a mole snake eat a mouse whilst separated between the same quantity of glass makes me disappear rapidly into my jumper.
Guinness tastes better in Dublin.
I can't convert prices from Sterling to Euros in my head nearly as fast as I would like.
A bowlful of Irish stew is very filling.
If a U2 song is played in a pub, everyone sings along.
The builders of a church opposite the apartment we stayed in dedicated their work by inscribing 'Deo.Optimo.Maximo' across the front of the building. I remembered I don't know any Latin, so had to look the meaning up. It means 'To God, most good, most great'. I thought how great it would be if everything I did was worthy of dedication to a most great, most good God.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
A Night In The Life Of Loser Church Boy
7pm arrive at event.
7-7.05pm-begin to set up event. Try to remind self to chat to team members arriving, not just focus on task.
7.06pm-Remind self again that people are more important than any one thing that needs to be done, stop charging around so much.
7.30pm-team time. Bring random thought, encourage prayer for each other and event.
8pm-start event, greet young people arriving at event, sign them in on list. Frustrate said young people by having to ask them more than once to spell names and repeat telephone numbers. Feel old and deaf. Sign young people in and out of building for next hour. Realise one of my old youth leader's children is now old enough to attend this event. Sign them in, feel old. Intersperse time on door with some meaningful conversation with young people. And some downright surreal chats as well.
9pm-change over roles, roam building. Banter with some young people. Try not to take the insults personally. Quell minor uprisings. Drink Coke. More bizarre conversations about nothing in particular. One further meaningful conversation. Wonder why the balance is that way and people feel more comfortable spouting nonsense around me than something profound. Walk On...
10pm-event finishes, tidy up. See 7.06pm.
10.30pm-worship. Remember how much more God cares for every single young person in attendance this evening. And also those who were not there. Overwhelmed with sense of humility at being part of such an event.
11pm-building locked up. View text messages unanswered from throughout the evening. 2. Surely there should be more? Review challenging text sent by friend earlier that day.
Be Like Jesus.
I wonder if I was?
7-7.05pm-begin to set up event. Try to remind self to chat to team members arriving, not just focus on task.
7.06pm-Remind self again that people are more important than any one thing that needs to be done, stop charging around so much.
7.30pm-team time. Bring random thought, encourage prayer for each other and event.
8pm-start event, greet young people arriving at event, sign them in on list. Frustrate said young people by having to ask them more than once to spell names and repeat telephone numbers. Feel old and deaf. Sign young people in and out of building for next hour. Realise one of my old youth leader's children is now old enough to attend this event. Sign them in, feel old. Intersperse time on door with some meaningful conversation with young people. And some downright surreal chats as well.
9pm-change over roles, roam building. Banter with some young people. Try not to take the insults personally. Quell minor uprisings. Drink Coke. More bizarre conversations about nothing in particular. One further meaningful conversation. Wonder why the balance is that way and people feel more comfortable spouting nonsense around me than something profound. Walk On...
10pm-event finishes, tidy up. See 7.06pm.
10.30pm-worship. Remember how much more God cares for every single young person in attendance this evening. And also those who were not there. Overwhelmed with sense of humility at being part of such an event.
11pm-building locked up. View text messages unanswered from throughout the evening. 2. Surely there should be more? Review challenging text sent by friend earlier that day.
Be Like Jesus.
I wonder if I was?
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Missed Opportunities
I've got all Philip Yancey's books.
As far as I'm aware there's not a prize for that.
However, I'm trying to communicate that his writing has had a profound impact on my spiritual journey. His books introduced me to the wonders of God's grace and also encourage me to hold strong to my faith in the face of some difficult days.
On Sunday, I became the holder of a signed programme to go along with my book collection.
What does it say?
'To Paul, Missed you in Bristol! Philip Yancey'
I wasn't there. I had the chance to be there with him, but didn't take it.
Somehow, exciting as a signature is, it can't ever be a substitute for actually being in the company of the author.
I overslept this morning because I stayed up to watch the Lost Season 2 finale. As a result, I missed out on the usual time I set aside to talk to God. The brief prayers I shot out as I rushed around provided me with an idea, an autograph, a reminder that God is there, but nothing compared to actually making time to listen and converse.
I had the chance to be there with him, but didn't take it.
Missing out on the company of a favourite author is one thing.
But to miss being in the presence of the author of everything?
As far as I'm aware there's not a prize for that.
However, I'm trying to communicate that his writing has had a profound impact on my spiritual journey. His books introduced me to the wonders of God's grace and also encourage me to hold strong to my faith in the face of some difficult days.
On Sunday, I became the holder of a signed programme to go along with my book collection.
What does it say?
'To Paul, Missed you in Bristol! Philip Yancey'
I wasn't there. I had the chance to be there with him, but didn't take it.
Somehow, exciting as a signature is, it can't ever be a substitute for actually being in the company of the author.
I overslept this morning because I stayed up to watch the Lost Season 2 finale. As a result, I missed out on the usual time I set aside to talk to God. The brief prayers I shot out as I rushed around provided me with an idea, an autograph, a reminder that God is there, but nothing compared to actually making time to listen and converse.
I had the chance to be there with him, but didn't take it.
Missing out on the company of a favourite author is one thing.
But to miss being in the presence of the author of everything?
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Three Months
I spent the day with my two oldest friends yesterday.
Not so unusual you might think, but explaining that they live in the town I work in everyday, and that I haven't actually seen them for three months might clarify why it was a significant day.
I'm sure the shared despair at the day's football results helped, but we had a great time picking up where we left off three months ago.
As I walked from their house to the train station I mulled over all the things which had conspired to ensure that the days I hadn't seen them became months. Many of them were good things, some not so good.
But I realised that I don't fight hard enough against the modern disease of efficiency and having a full diary. My failure to do this means I can end up distancing myself from the very people who I care most about in the world.
I said sorry to Damon and Phil for being a rubbish friend yesterday. There are some others I need to say the same thing to, so I think I need to make some phone calls and send some letters this week.
Even if I can't beat our obsession for being busy overnight, I can endeavour to take a mini stand everyday and ensure that rather then letting them be drowned out by the noise of the world, I steal time for those I love.
Not so unusual you might think, but explaining that they live in the town I work in everyday, and that I haven't actually seen them for three months might clarify why it was a significant day.
I'm sure the shared despair at the day's football results helped, but we had a great time picking up where we left off three months ago.
As I walked from their house to the train station I mulled over all the things which had conspired to ensure that the days I hadn't seen them became months. Many of them were good things, some not so good.
But I realised that I don't fight hard enough against the modern disease of efficiency and having a full diary. My failure to do this means I can end up distancing myself from the very people who I care most about in the world.
I said sorry to Damon and Phil for being a rubbish friend yesterday. There are some others I need to say the same thing to, so I think I need to make some phone calls and send some letters this week.
Even if I can't beat our obsession for being busy overnight, I can endeavour to take a mini stand everyday and ensure that rather then letting them be drowned out by the noise of the world, I steal time for those I love.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Chris
I couldn't say that Chris was ever a good friend of mine, because I never really got to know him on any kind of deep level. Yet I'd be loathe to describe him as merely an acquaintance.
When I moved back to Andover after my world had seemingly come crashing down around me, I found myself working shifts in a local factory producing exhaust clamps.And that is where I first chatted to Chris. I sat myself in the corner of the canteen during my lunch breaks,with a face like thunder as I continued to dwell on my melancholy thoughts about how unfair life wa and how it was out of my control.
Chris made the effort to come across from the established group of regular workers to chat. He didn't ask me what my problems were, or why I looked down. Instead, we struck up a conversation regarding rock music, and proceeded to while away the break chatting about our favourite Foo Fighters tracks.
I never told him this but that slice of normality was more helpful to me at that particular moment than any of my other friends had been able to provide to me up until that point.
Today I regret not having the courage to make that thought known to him.
When I finished my time at the factory, Chris and I would always talk when I saw him at our local pub. He knew my brother as well and we always had an entertaining time catching up and talking about music as much as possible over the ear splitting volume of the pub sound system. The last time I saw him was the night before he left for his big travelling adventure. We briefly chatted about which destinations his world tour would take in and I remember how elated he was at the prospect of what he was about to embark on, in the way you can only look when you are grabbing hold of your dreams and ambitions tightly with both hands.
I got a text message from my brother yesterday telling me the news that Chris had died.
It goes without saying that Chris will be missed by many people. His close friends will no doubt have many other more appropriate and more entertaining stories to tell by way of a lasting tribute. I don't want to come across as one of those who pretend to know someone well after they have died.
But, like I said, Chris was more help than he'll ever know to me at a tough time in my life. And I never thanked him for it.
So I hope this guilt will remind me to say the important words of love and encouragement that need to be spoken, out loud and right now. I wouldn't want to lose any of the other people who have influenced my life without letting them know how much I have valued their contribution to making me who I am.
Chris, thanks for personally bringing me normality in a storm, and for being a constant entertainer to the rest of those who encountered you.
When I moved back to Andover after my world had seemingly come crashing down around me, I found myself working shifts in a local factory producing exhaust clamps.And that is where I first chatted to Chris. I sat myself in the corner of the canteen during my lunch breaks,with a face like thunder as I continued to dwell on my melancholy thoughts about how unfair life wa and how it was out of my control.
Chris made the effort to come across from the established group of regular workers to chat. He didn't ask me what my problems were, or why I looked down. Instead, we struck up a conversation regarding rock music, and proceeded to while away the break chatting about our favourite Foo Fighters tracks.
I never told him this but that slice of normality was more helpful to me at that particular moment than any of my other friends had been able to provide to me up until that point.
Today I regret not having the courage to make that thought known to him.
When I finished my time at the factory, Chris and I would always talk when I saw him at our local pub. He knew my brother as well and we always had an entertaining time catching up and talking about music as much as possible over the ear splitting volume of the pub sound system. The last time I saw him was the night before he left for his big travelling adventure. We briefly chatted about which destinations his world tour would take in and I remember how elated he was at the prospect of what he was about to embark on, in the way you can only look when you are grabbing hold of your dreams and ambitions tightly with both hands.
I got a text message from my brother yesterday telling me the news that Chris had died.
It goes without saying that Chris will be missed by many people. His close friends will no doubt have many other more appropriate and more entertaining stories to tell by way of a lasting tribute. I don't want to come across as one of those who pretend to know someone well after they have died.
But, like I said, Chris was more help than he'll ever know to me at a tough time in my life. And I never thanked him for it.
So I hope this guilt will remind me to say the important words of love and encouragement that need to be spoken, out loud and right now. I wouldn't want to lose any of the other people who have influenced my life without letting them know how much I have valued their contribution to making me who I am.
Chris, thanks for personally bringing me normality in a storm, and for being a constant entertainer to the rest of those who encountered you.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Restoration In Tree Hill
Time to confess one of my 'guilty pleasures'. I've started to watch One Tree Hill over the past couple of months. I like American TV and it provides a suitable antidote to the onset of the Sunday night blues.
Still, the happy news from tonight's episode was that all the unhappy couples seemed to sort out their differences and ended the episode reunited and restored.
One particular moment that got my attention was Lucas declaring that Brooke's affair with another guy didn't matter and that he was prepared to forgive.
Brooke's response?
'How can you? It's too much. There's too much to forgive. You can't forgive'
Lucas: 'I just did.'
Now, I mused on taking this blog in a number of different directions. I thought of taking the chance to slate sugarsweet endings on TV by shouting that I've been on the end of infidelity and it takes more than a few seconds to work out forgiveness. And how for my relationship there was no happy ending...
But the more profound comment to think about was that the writers of this episode of One Tree Hill seemed to somehow bring in an element of the forgiveness that as a Christian I believe God has for me.
That there have been many occasions, not least in the pain of my failed marriage when I have come before God to declare that there is no possible way that forgiveness can be given for me this time.
That there is too much to forgive. That He can't forgive this particular failing.
But He just did.
Still, the happy news from tonight's episode was that all the unhappy couples seemed to sort out their differences and ended the episode reunited and restored.
One particular moment that got my attention was Lucas declaring that Brooke's affair with another guy didn't matter and that he was prepared to forgive.
Brooke's response?
'How can you? It's too much. There's too much to forgive. You can't forgive'
Lucas: 'I just did.'
Now, I mused on taking this blog in a number of different directions. I thought of taking the chance to slate sugarsweet endings on TV by shouting that I've been on the end of infidelity and it takes more than a few seconds to work out forgiveness. And how for my relationship there was no happy ending...
But the more profound comment to think about was that the writers of this episode of One Tree Hill seemed to somehow bring in an element of the forgiveness that as a Christian I believe God has for me.
That there have been many occasions, not least in the pain of my failed marriage when I have come before God to declare that there is no possible way that forgiveness can be given for me this time.
That there is too much to forgive. That He can't forgive this particular failing.
But He just did.
A Missing Line
'I need your grace to remind me to find my own.'
Lyrics from the album version of 'Chasing Cars' by Snow Patrol. However, you won't hear that line in the radio edit of the song. It's not been watered down, or bleeped out, but rather removed in it's entirity.
So, I went on a mission of internet based research, trawled through message boards and fan sites for a clue as to why said lyric is omitted from the radio version.
Couldn't find one. That doesn't mean there isn't one out there somewhere, it's just I got bored with looking. I'm impatient like that you see.
So I originally thought this blog would be something relating to grace. A point the finger critique aimed at whoever suggested that such a moving lyric be removed to make the song more accessible.
That the world needs to hear of grace, see it's beauty and not have it hidden away.
But then three fingers point right back at me and I feel convicted. As someone who is starting to know, experience and be blown away by God's grace everyday, is that something I am accurately passing on to others?
Can people see a person influenced by God's grace, that His grace reminds me to find my own?
Or am I the radio edit?
Lyrics from the album version of 'Chasing Cars' by Snow Patrol. However, you won't hear that line in the radio edit of the song. It's not been watered down, or bleeped out, but rather removed in it's entirity.
So, I went on a mission of internet based research, trawled through message boards and fan sites for a clue as to why said lyric is omitted from the radio version.
Couldn't find one. That doesn't mean there isn't one out there somewhere, it's just I got bored with looking. I'm impatient like that you see.
So I originally thought this blog would be something relating to grace. A point the finger critique aimed at whoever suggested that such a moving lyric be removed to make the song more accessible.
That the world needs to hear of grace, see it's beauty and not have it hidden away.
But then three fingers point right back at me and I feel convicted. As someone who is starting to know, experience and be blown away by God's grace everyday, is that something I am accurately passing on to others?
Can people see a person influenced by God's grace, that His grace reminds me to find my own?
Or am I the radio edit?
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Awesome Music You Need #1
So, I freely admit to being a music geek. I have a diverse taste, which, I like to think then entitles me to have an opinion about what is good. Some would say that makes me a snob.
But, it's my forum, so we're going with 'opinionated' rather than 'snob' whilst I hold court here.
Anyway, decided in amongst my musings on the universe I should enlighten the globe as to the identity of some of the aural delights I have encountered recently.
So, step up track number one to be knighted with some serious Noycey kudos...
The first awesome music you need track I've picked is called For the Windows In Paradise, for the Fatherless In Ypsilanti by Sufjan Stevens , from the album Greetings From Michigan the Great Lake State.
It's 3 minutes and 59 seconds ofthe most sublime, heartfelt music. There are not many tracks that when I have heard them I immediately skip back to the beginning to hear the song all over again.
This song is one of those.
And when you finally finish listening to it, you recall the world is troubled, as for the duration of the song, everything is alright and you can clearly reminded of those in your life who will 'do anything for you...'
But don't take my word for it. Seek out the music.
But, it's my forum, so we're going with 'opinionated' rather than 'snob' whilst I hold court here.
Anyway, decided in amongst my musings on the universe I should enlighten the globe as to the identity of some of the aural delights I have encountered recently.
So, step up track number one to be knighted with some serious Noycey kudos...
The first awesome music you need track I've picked is called For the Windows In Paradise, for the Fatherless In Ypsilanti by Sufjan Stevens , from the album Greetings From Michigan the Great Lake State.
It's 3 minutes and 59 seconds ofthe most sublime, heartfelt music. There are not many tracks that when I have heard them I immediately skip back to the beginning to hear the song all over again.
This song is one of those.
And when you finally finish listening to it, you recall the world is troubled, as for the duration of the song, everything is alright and you can clearly reminded of those in your life who will 'do anything for you...'
But don't take my word for it. Seek out the music.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Supreme
I recently spent five days away serving at my church's annual camp in the New Forest. One of the worship songs to make the list of sixteen that we took away with us was 'Yesterday, Today and Forever' by Vicky Beeching. It formed a part of several of our worship times, with the thirty of us at the camp raising our voices as high as possible into the open skies above us.
Two days later, I was away with friends to recover from the output given over the days at camp. I attended a church service in Bristol over that weekend and the same song was sung, this time with hundreds of voices cascading the words around the church building.
And the truth of the words hit home.
My hope is in a God who isn't dependant on surroundings, circumstances or time. The declaration of the song that God is unchanging remains true, and in some way that I will never understand, He was equally present in the worship outside in a field in Brockenhurst as at the service in Bristol.
Supreme over all.
God unchanging.
Two days later, I was away with friends to recover from the output given over the days at camp. I attended a church service in Bristol over that weekend and the same song was sung, this time with hundreds of voices cascading the words around the church building.
And the truth of the words hit home.
My hope is in a God who isn't dependant on surroundings, circumstances or time. The declaration of the song that God is unchanging remains true, and in some way that I will never understand, He was equally present in the worship outside in a field in Brockenhurst as at the service in Bristol.
Supreme over all.
God unchanging.
The Good Fight
Hope Of The States split up this week.
Those of you who have noted my favourite bands list on the profile will know why this news is important to me. But, you'll be glad to know there's no hysteria over this from me, just disappointment that another great band didn't get the recognition that they deserved.
But don't just take my word for it. Check out the lyrical genius from Sam Herlihy below:
Can we dance in the rain and fill the streets with parades?
No one's left behind.
We all wait in line.
Defiant I shall be today but I won't forget how much we paid
The voices from above said:
'You're alright to carry on'
So we thanked The Lord
For the second chance we got to try again
And despite it all
We're doing alright
Our friends by our side
We fight a good fight
And all of the pain and all of the strife
Means nothing to us
We fight a good fight.
We'll win in another life.
I know we will.
Tomorrow's another chance
To make the next day better.
Song:The Good Fight
Album: Left
Music: Hope of The States, words: Samuel J Herlihy
Those of you who have noted my favourite bands list on the profile will know why this news is important to me. But, you'll be glad to know there's no hysteria over this from me, just disappointment that another great band didn't get the recognition that they deserved.
But don't just take my word for it. Check out the lyrical genius from Sam Herlihy below:
Can we dance in the rain and fill the streets with parades?
No one's left behind.
We all wait in line.
Defiant I shall be today but I won't forget how much we paid
The voices from above said:
'You're alright to carry on'
So we thanked The Lord
For the second chance we got to try again
And despite it all
We're doing alright
Our friends by our side
We fight a good fight
And all of the pain and all of the strife
Means nothing to us
We fight a good fight.
We'll win in another life.
I know we will.
Tomorrow's another chance
To make the next day better.
Song:The Good Fight
Album: Left
Music: Hope of The States, words: Samuel J Herlihy
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Get Busy Living...
Some friends of mine got me 'The Worst Case Scenario Survival Calendar' for Christmas.
It's sat in front of my PC and kept me entertained for eight months so far with it's random selection of miraculous survival stories and useful advise on how to avoid certain doom in various different scenarios (my favourite recently was how to escape being attacked by killer bees. Tip No.1-Run away....there were other tips, but couldn't get past the humour of the first hint- who really needs to be told to run from killer bees?)
I've mused on this calendar today (and that it took eight months to come up with this thought...) How often are our lives about merely surviving? About getting from one pay day to the next, paying the bills and just about getting by.
I think about Jesus' words in John 10:10 where he says 'I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full'.
And I wonder-do I take those words as seriously as I should?
The answer to that question is usually negative and prompts me to do something about it.
I need to step out of the survival mindset and accept that knowing Jesus is the only way to have a bigger perspective and remind me that there is more than just exisiting available to me.
With him, I can thrive.
I can truly live.
It's sat in front of my PC and kept me entertained for eight months so far with it's random selection of miraculous survival stories and useful advise on how to avoid certain doom in various different scenarios (my favourite recently was how to escape being attacked by killer bees. Tip No.1-Run away....there were other tips, but couldn't get past the humour of the first hint- who really needs to be told to run from killer bees?)
I've mused on this calendar today (and that it took eight months to come up with this thought...) How often are our lives about merely surviving? About getting from one pay day to the next, paying the bills and just about getting by.
I think about Jesus' words in John 10:10 where he says 'I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full'.
And I wonder-do I take those words as seriously as I should?
The answer to that question is usually negative and prompts me to do something about it.
I need to step out of the survival mindset and accept that knowing Jesus is the only way to have a bigger perspective and remind me that there is more than just exisiting available to me.
With him, I can thrive.
I can truly live.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
The Finish Line
I think the finish line's a good place to start.
Take a deep breath.
Take in all that you could want.
The great thing about blogging is that occassionally I get to big up my favourite bands. The above lyrics come from the track 'The Finish Line' by Snow Patrol on their recent 'Eyes Open' album. (I'm expecting free records from Polydor for giving that album a free plug). I'm off to see them play in a couple of weeks and very much looking forward to it. I do my homework when I'm going to see a band-listening to the back catalogue and new albums to make sure I'm singing along to the right lyrics. Only because over the years i've suffered from standing next to strangers ruining the gig experience by (usually drunkenly) badly singing the wrong lyrics. Anyway, I came across the lyrical genius recounted above because it struck a personal chord with me and where I'm at these days.
It's an exhilarating yet terrifying thought. That there's a possibility of new start at the end of something.
There's finish lines coming up in a lot of areas in my life. But I'm not going to let those finish lines defeat me.
Instead, I'm going to take a deep breath...
Take a deep breath.
Take in all that you could want.
The great thing about blogging is that occassionally I get to big up my favourite bands. The above lyrics come from the track 'The Finish Line' by Snow Patrol on their recent 'Eyes Open' album. (I'm expecting free records from Polydor for giving that album a free plug). I'm off to see them play in a couple of weeks and very much looking forward to it. I do my homework when I'm going to see a band-listening to the back catalogue and new albums to make sure I'm singing along to the right lyrics. Only because over the years i've suffered from standing next to strangers ruining the gig experience by (usually drunkenly) badly singing the wrong lyrics. Anyway, I came across the lyrical genius recounted above because it struck a personal chord with me and where I'm at these days.
It's an exhilarating yet terrifying thought. That there's a possibility of new start at the end of something.
There's finish lines coming up in a lot of areas in my life. But I'm not going to let those finish lines defeat me.
Instead, I'm going to take a deep breath...
Thursday, August 10, 2006
We Could Be Heroes
I may not have mentioned this, but I topped off the festivities of Chris and Louise's wedding by watching Lord of The Rings: The Return Of The King (again) when I returned to the house where I was staying last weekend. I know, I'm a geek, but that's not exactly news is it?
Anyway, for a fantasy tale, the film contains moments of profound insight and inspiration which echo and expose the 'real' world. I was especially struck by the scene where Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin have returned to the Shire after their long adventure. Bearing in mind that Aragorn insists that these four 'bow to no-one' in honour of their efforts to save Middle Earth, the four hobbits sit virtually anonymous in their local pub, with the world going on around them, blissfully unaware of the heroes in their midst and the sacrifices they have made for others.
I commented to Mark that I'm becoming more convinced that the real heroes in this world are the unsung heroes. Our culture makes heroes and idols out of pop groups, movie stars, reality television contestants and generally any one who stands up on a platform in public.
But on a day like today we must recognise how shallow that is.
Surely the real heroes are those who work tirelessly behind the scenes for what they believe. Whether those figures are the security and police who worked without praise to stop thousands being killed in terorrist attacks today, the medical teams who save lives day in day out in cash strapped hospitals, or those who give their time to help the hurt and the needy wherever they may be.
We need heroes. We could be heroes. We just need to choose to follow a path of selflessness rather than choosing what's easy and benefits ourselves first and foremost.
The path that my Saviour chose.
Anyway, for a fantasy tale, the film contains moments of profound insight and inspiration which echo and expose the 'real' world. I was especially struck by the scene where Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin have returned to the Shire after their long adventure. Bearing in mind that Aragorn insists that these four 'bow to no-one' in honour of their efforts to save Middle Earth, the four hobbits sit virtually anonymous in their local pub, with the world going on around them, blissfully unaware of the heroes in their midst and the sacrifices they have made for others.
I commented to Mark that I'm becoming more convinced that the real heroes in this world are the unsung heroes. Our culture makes heroes and idols out of pop groups, movie stars, reality television contestants and generally any one who stands up on a platform in public.
But on a day like today we must recognise how shallow that is.
Surely the real heroes are those who work tirelessly behind the scenes for what they believe. Whether those figures are the security and police who worked without praise to stop thousands being killed in terorrist attacks today, the medical teams who save lives day in day out in cash strapped hospitals, or those who give their time to help the hurt and the needy wherever they may be.
We need heroes. We could be heroes. We just need to choose to follow a path of selflessness rather than choosing what's easy and benefits ourselves first and foremost.
The path that my Saviour chose.
Monday, August 07, 2006
All The Dreams You Never Thought You'd Lose
I'm a light sleeper these days, so I don't really dream.
Well, if I do, I don't remember the dreams vividly enough in the morning for them to make any difference.
Is that why I find it so hard to think about having dreams, hopes and plans for my life?
Or have I allowed the same attitude to creep in when I'm conscious as when I'm asleep. A condition that allows dreams to come and go, but never bothers to maintain a tight enough grip on them to follow them through.
Dreaming involves risk. That the dream might not come true. That this dream might get wrecked by someone you loved and trusted. But that could just my personal experience.
It's certainly not that for everybody.
My friends Louise and Chris got married on Saturday. During the speeches we learned that Louise had dreamt the details of bridesmaids and all the other wedding stuff that matters to girls some months before the wedding, and, if I remember, some months before even becoming engaged.
I'm proud to have friends who can show me what it's like to dream.
Friends who show me what it looks like to grasp onto their dreams to make sure that they don't disappear.
Friends who take risks for love.
I gave the new Mr & Mrs Thomas a card that said 'live your dreams' on it.
Somehow, I don't think that is something that they are going to struggle to do together.
Maybe one day I'll learn.
Well, if I do, I don't remember the dreams vividly enough in the morning for them to make any difference.
Is that why I find it so hard to think about having dreams, hopes and plans for my life?
Or have I allowed the same attitude to creep in when I'm conscious as when I'm asleep. A condition that allows dreams to come and go, but never bothers to maintain a tight enough grip on them to follow them through.
Dreaming involves risk. That the dream might not come true. That this dream might get wrecked by someone you loved and trusted. But that could just my personal experience.
It's certainly not that for everybody.
My friends Louise and Chris got married on Saturday. During the speeches we learned that Louise had dreamt the details of bridesmaids and all the other wedding stuff that matters to girls some months before the wedding, and, if I remember, some months before even becoming engaged.
I'm proud to have friends who can show me what it's like to dream.
Friends who show me what it looks like to grasp onto their dreams to make sure that they don't disappear.
Friends who take risks for love.
I gave the new Mr & Mrs Thomas a card that said 'live your dreams' on it.
Somehow, I don't think that is something that they are going to struggle to do together.
Maybe one day I'll learn.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own
Had a long hard day today.
Heavy situations and long hours at work.
Heavy envelopes and abundant paperwork from solicitors about my divorce when I arrived home from work.
I sigh. Thankfully, I manage to grasp an important perspective.
I'm blessed with special people in my life, people who love me for who I am regardless of the circumstances I currently find myself in.
It's these people I know will model God's love for me by being there for me time and time again.
I think of these individuals and my night breaks and fills up with bright colours.
You know who you are.
I'm glad to have you in my life.
Heavy situations and long hours at work.
Heavy envelopes and abundant paperwork from solicitors about my divorce when I arrived home from work.
I sigh. Thankfully, I manage to grasp an important perspective.
I'm blessed with special people in my life, people who love me for who I am regardless of the circumstances I currently find myself in.
It's these people I know will model God's love for me by being there for me time and time again.
I think of these individuals and my night breaks and fills up with bright colours.
You know who you are.
I'm glad to have you in my life.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Exploding Machines
Bright Explosion in the sky
A light that burned my eyes
Made me come alive
I thought I'd seen a sign
I prayed that I was right
As tears filled my eyes
Blurred the scene
Now a sun inside me burns
Bleaching all my bones
And the rising smoke
Will carry me away
To another place
I never lost my faith.
Just my way.
I exploded into life that day.
I'll never look back.
No one can take these feelings away.
I'll never go back.
Embrace
Exploding Machines
This New Day
2006
written by Embrace/Martin Glover
Couldn't express how I feel today in words I was happy with, so used someone else's. Normal service will be resumed a.s.a.p...
A light that burned my eyes
Made me come alive
I thought I'd seen a sign
I prayed that I was right
As tears filled my eyes
Blurred the scene
Now a sun inside me burns
Bleaching all my bones
And the rising smoke
Will carry me away
To another place
I never lost my faith.
Just my way.
I exploded into life that day.
I'll never look back.
No one can take these feelings away.
I'll never go back.
Embrace
Exploding Machines
This New Day
2006
written by Embrace/Martin Glover
Couldn't express how I feel today in words I was happy with, so used someone else's. Normal service will be resumed a.s.a.p...
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Science Of Silence
All of a sudden, I'm finding whether people respond to these blogs with comments and being something of tremendous importance to me. As you may have noticed, there is not much going on in the way of feedback on many of my posts.
Don't get me wrong, this isn't some kind of attempt at rousing a campaign where everyone posts comments on the time to massage my ego in some superficial way.
The reason I bring it up is because I had a moment today of thinking, 'this blog business is not doing anyone any good, there are so few positive responses, I should probably stop at the end of the month'.
How many times do I view prayer in such a similar way? That if I don't see some positive results to the effort put in, I may as well give up.
Then I wake up and realise that is the slippery slope to a 'me first' faith, where I believe as long as it's all good for me. I have spoken to people who have read my musings around here, and they have commented on it-so there has been a response, albeit a relatively silent one, and I won't necessarily see the results of anything positive to come through any of the words I post on here.
Sometimes it's like that with prayer too. I've got a list of 'old school' contacts, going back ten years or so from when I first became a Christian, that I pray for as regularly as I can. Some of these guys and girls are now off my radar in different parts of the UK if not the world and I don't see them very often, or at all.But I have to trust that God knows where they are and is answering my prayers for them, even though I'm left with silence for the time being.
What's my point here? I guess that just because I don't see things doesn't mean that nothing is going on.
Silence is not always an indication of inactivity...
Don't get me wrong, this isn't some kind of attempt at rousing a campaign where everyone posts comments on the time to massage my ego in some superficial way.
The reason I bring it up is because I had a moment today of thinking, 'this blog business is not doing anyone any good, there are so few positive responses, I should probably stop at the end of the month'.
How many times do I view prayer in such a similar way? That if I don't see some positive results to the effort put in, I may as well give up.
Then I wake up and realise that is the slippery slope to a 'me first' faith, where I believe as long as it's all good for me. I have spoken to people who have read my musings around here, and they have commented on it-so there has been a response, albeit a relatively silent one, and I won't necessarily see the results of anything positive to come through any of the words I post on here.
Sometimes it's like that with prayer too. I've got a list of 'old school' contacts, going back ten years or so from when I first became a Christian, that I pray for as regularly as I can. Some of these guys and girls are now off my radar in different parts of the UK if not the world and I don't see them very often, or at all.But I have to trust that God knows where they are and is answering my prayers for them, even though I'm left with silence for the time being.
What's my point here? I guess that just because I don't see things doesn't mean that nothing is going on.
Silence is not always an indication of inactivity...
Monday, July 17, 2006
moments vs movements
The latest Oxfam campaign update was basking in the extreme heat of my flat hallway as I arrived home from work today.
I opened the envelope and cynically began to look for the bottom line, namely 'how-much-do-they-want-from-me-now?'
It was all so different a year ago. I stood in Hyde Park at Live 8, pledging my support in the campaign to make poverty history.
And yet today my little world is finding that promise such an inconvenience.
So what's wrong? Is it just me or is this a wider thing? I'd dare to suggest it's a wider thing, because it's easier to live for the moment, to say I was there, than to take what you have encountered in that moment and run with it.
How many of the people who attended Live 8 where there simply for the satisfaction of saying 'I was there' rather than to be able to tell their grandchildren that they had responded to a call to help neighbours they have never met.
I expect at this point you are thinking I am about to launch into a rant about the selfishness and evil of the 21st century, but it's a big old internet and there are people who do that much better than me...
But I want to think about the preaching of Jesus. How he often attracted a crowd when he rolled into town. People who listened, responded to the teaching and even became professing disciples. And yet we read in John 6:60-69 that many of those who had heard Jesus firsthand decided that they'd heard one challenging teaching too many, that enough was enough and that following Him was just too hard and too great a cost.
They were prepared to follow Jesus for the moment, but not join the movement.
And I then think long and hard about those if have known over the years, who promised to join a movement and only stayed for a moment before turning their back on Him.
I pray that they'll find their way back home.
But before an attitude of smug superiority is allowed to arise, then I remember the attitude I had towards the Oxfam letter. That I have it within me to follow the easy path, to revel in saying I was there, but when in reality my attendance had no lasting impact on my lifestyle.
So I have to choose to reaffirm my promises to be part of Oxfam's charitable movement. And I choose to ask for the strength to stand committed to Jesus, echoing Peter's response of 'Lord, where else shall we go?' rather than listening to the temptation to abandon commitment to Jesus' movement and opt only for momentary involvement.
I opened the envelope and cynically began to look for the bottom line, namely 'how-much-do-they-want-from-me-now?'
It was all so different a year ago. I stood in Hyde Park at Live 8, pledging my support in the campaign to make poverty history.
And yet today my little world is finding that promise such an inconvenience.
So what's wrong? Is it just me or is this a wider thing? I'd dare to suggest it's a wider thing, because it's easier to live for the moment, to say I was there, than to take what you have encountered in that moment and run with it.
How many of the people who attended Live 8 where there simply for the satisfaction of saying 'I was there' rather than to be able to tell their grandchildren that they had responded to a call to help neighbours they have never met.
I expect at this point you are thinking I am about to launch into a rant about the selfishness and evil of the 21st century, but it's a big old internet and there are people who do that much better than me...
But I want to think about the preaching of Jesus. How he often attracted a crowd when he rolled into town. People who listened, responded to the teaching and even became professing disciples. And yet we read in John 6:60-69 that many of those who had heard Jesus firsthand decided that they'd heard one challenging teaching too many, that enough was enough and that following Him was just too hard and too great a cost.
They were prepared to follow Jesus for the moment, but not join the movement.
And I then think long and hard about those if have known over the years, who promised to join a movement and only stayed for a moment before turning their back on Him.
I pray that they'll find their way back home.
But before an attitude of smug superiority is allowed to arise, then I remember the attitude I had towards the Oxfam letter. That I have it within me to follow the easy path, to revel in saying I was there, but when in reality my attendance had no lasting impact on my lifestyle.
So I have to choose to reaffirm my promises to be part of Oxfam's charitable movement. And I choose to ask for the strength to stand committed to Jesus, echoing Peter's response of 'Lord, where else shall we go?' rather than listening to the temptation to abandon commitment to Jesus' movement and opt only for momentary involvement.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
There's Got To Be Hope
We had to call the police at the youth event I help out with last night, to help deal with some guys who refused to leave after we asked them to because their behaviour had become unacceptable.
When they arrived, one of them ran away prompting the police officer in attendance to comment that this particular boy now 'had his card marked'.
I shared with the team afterwards that so often we accept that certain things are set in stone. It is likely that the kids who got in trouble with the police last night will continue on that path, but it's by no means definite. I don't have to agree with the police officer that this kid is always going to be trouble.
The reason why we work with these guys is because we believe that there is another way, and that the example of the Christians they come across at our events hopefully points out that lives can be changed and turned around.
I say hopefully. The days we live in are extremely cynical, and hope often seems to be relegated to the small print, not something to be spoken about.
But hope remains real.
Hebrews 11:1 tells us that 'faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see'.
Without faith in God, I'd have no basis on which to hope for anything better and no reason to be confident that things can change, no matter how it appears to look on the surface.
I can dare to have faith that there is more going on than I can see, and hope for better, because God is alive and active in this world.
Hope remains real.
When they arrived, one of them ran away prompting the police officer in attendance to comment that this particular boy now 'had his card marked'.
I shared with the team afterwards that so often we accept that certain things are set in stone. It is likely that the kids who got in trouble with the police last night will continue on that path, but it's by no means definite. I don't have to agree with the police officer that this kid is always going to be trouble.
The reason why we work with these guys is because we believe that there is another way, and that the example of the Christians they come across at our events hopefully points out that lives can be changed and turned around.
I say hopefully. The days we live in are extremely cynical, and hope often seems to be relegated to the small print, not something to be spoken about.
But hope remains real.
Hebrews 11:1 tells us that 'faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see'.
Without faith in God, I'd have no basis on which to hope for anything better and no reason to be confident that things can change, no matter how it appears to look on the surface.
I can dare to have faith that there is more going on than I can see, and hope for better, because God is alive and active in this world.
Hope remains real.
Monday, July 10, 2006
A Fool's Story
"What is this I hear Mr. Noyce? Have you been disgracing yourself again?"
Not the words of my displeased boss, or even of unhappy parents.
They do, in fact, belong to one of my close friends. But what would prompt such blunt words, stopping just short of telling me to act my age?
Allow me to explain. Upon my return from a week's holiday in Tenby, he was offered the chance to see the video footage of my latest act of buffoonery, wrestling with a 4ft inflatable crocodile. (I was going to put pretending to wrestle in that sentence, but I feel I need to be honest on this blog. And, for those of you that know me or were first hand witnesses, I was trying hard, the crocodile wasn't really interested in wrestling.)
Now, I have been known to be easily goaded into silly, often dangerous dares, which is ironic considering that I am at heart, quite shy and introverted. But, for some reason, the prospect of being the centre of attention in ridiculous circumstances is something I seem to be able to get involved in with very little effort and, indeed, thought.
But the comments did get me thinking. Having been involved in a few (i.e. many) stupid dares and situations, I feel that I have to keep going on with them, upping the stupidity stakes again and again. But why? I guess the honest answer will be because I fear people will then stop liking me. That seeing Paul be zany is the only reason that they hang around.
I like to think that I have better friends than that, and I think I'm right.
But looking at it another way, how often do I try the very same thing in my relationship with God? That if I do certain things, then He'll stick around and be interested in relationship with me, but that He might stop loving me if I for example, stop being busy doing youthwork in the evenings or that if I stuff up with some stupid, secret sin.
The things that I do cannot encourage God to love me more. So no matter how many hours of youth work I do or how many prayer meetings I attend, God's love for me is already off the scale.
And there's nothing I can do that will stop God from loving me. Yes, I cause anguish and disappointment when I betray him, but the love doesn't end and He offers me redemption through Jesus.
At some point, my friends will, no doubt, reach their embarrassment threshold with me, and I'll do something so dumb they'll never want to be near me again. But God's love keeps on giving and will always go on giving grace, even to fools and losers like me.
Grace. Even for people who wrestle with plastic inflatable crocodiles.
Not the words of my displeased boss, or even of unhappy parents.
They do, in fact, belong to one of my close friends. But what would prompt such blunt words, stopping just short of telling me to act my age?
Allow me to explain. Upon my return from a week's holiday in Tenby, he was offered the chance to see the video footage of my latest act of buffoonery, wrestling with a 4ft inflatable crocodile. (I was going to put pretending to wrestle in that sentence, but I feel I need to be honest on this blog. And, for those of you that know me or were first hand witnesses, I was trying hard, the crocodile wasn't really interested in wrestling.)
Now, I have been known to be easily goaded into silly, often dangerous dares, which is ironic considering that I am at heart, quite shy and introverted. But, for some reason, the prospect of being the centre of attention in ridiculous circumstances is something I seem to be able to get involved in with very little effort and, indeed, thought.
But the comments did get me thinking. Having been involved in a few (i.e. many) stupid dares and situations, I feel that I have to keep going on with them, upping the stupidity stakes again and again. But why? I guess the honest answer will be because I fear people will then stop liking me. That seeing Paul be zany is the only reason that they hang around.
I like to think that I have better friends than that, and I think I'm right.
But looking at it another way, how often do I try the very same thing in my relationship with God? That if I do certain things, then He'll stick around and be interested in relationship with me, but that He might stop loving me if I for example, stop being busy doing youthwork in the evenings or that if I stuff up with some stupid, secret sin.
The things that I do cannot encourage God to love me more. So no matter how many hours of youth work I do or how many prayer meetings I attend, God's love for me is already off the scale.
And there's nothing I can do that will stop God from loving me. Yes, I cause anguish and disappointment when I betray him, but the love doesn't end and He offers me redemption through Jesus.
At some point, my friends will, no doubt, reach their embarrassment threshold with me, and I'll do something so dumb they'll never want to be near me again. But God's love keeps on giving and will always go on giving grace, even to fools and losers like me.
Grace. Even for people who wrestle with plastic inflatable crocodiles.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
The One Where Paul Comes Down To Earth With A Bump
Just re-read my previous post about the wedding. And, although slightly embarrassed at how gushing I seem to come across in that post, the memories are still fresh and are continuing to make me smile.
In the interests of keeping it real on here though, must explain a little bit about how it feels to be smacked back to reality.
At the wedding reception on Saturday, a bunch of us were all dancing around to Embrace's 'World At Your Feet'. A World Cup song it may be, but for those moments on a perfect day, the world really was our oyster and anything, absolutely anything, was possible for us all.
Monday and Tuesday have seen a marked change in mood. The world has been far from at my feet and seems to be weighing up whether to get right in my face or just try and crush me on my back. The realities of work stress and sudden worries about ill health to members of my close family seem to have been able to swiftly undo all the good that the weekend provided...
So that reminded me of Ecclesiastes. Many people find it an Old Testament book to avoid. After all, who wants their morning quiet time to remind them that 'everything is meaningless, a chasing after the wind'?
But I like Ecclesiates (or Qohelet, if I am to impose an heir of superiority from the fact that I studied theology for my degree). Most all all, I like the fact that despite all the absurdities, seasons and problems of life that he identifies, he ultimately chooses to grasp onto the reality of God.
Anyone can hold onto the reality of God after red letter days like Saturday. But if I am going to truly have ''faith that is sure of what we I hope for and certain of what we do not see'' as I read out from Hebrews 11 at the wedding, then that also means following the example of Qohelet and not abandoning God in the face of life's absurdities, but taking a step of faith and trusting in the unseen, no matter what season of life we find ourselves in.
And yes, sometimes this step of faith means we have to cling on for dear life in the face of life's difficulties.
In the interests of keeping it real on here though, must explain a little bit about how it feels to be smacked back to reality.
At the wedding reception on Saturday, a bunch of us were all dancing around to Embrace's 'World At Your Feet'. A World Cup song it may be, but for those moments on a perfect day, the world really was our oyster and anything, absolutely anything, was possible for us all.
Monday and Tuesday have seen a marked change in mood. The world has been far from at my feet and seems to be weighing up whether to get right in my face or just try and crush me on my back. The realities of work stress and sudden worries about ill health to members of my close family seem to have been able to swiftly undo all the good that the weekend provided...
So that reminded me of Ecclesiastes. Many people find it an Old Testament book to avoid. After all, who wants their morning quiet time to remind them that 'everything is meaningless, a chasing after the wind'?
But I like Ecclesiates (or Qohelet, if I am to impose an heir of superiority from the fact that I studied theology for my degree). Most all all, I like the fact that despite all the absurdities, seasons and problems of life that he identifies, he ultimately chooses to grasp onto the reality of God.
Anyone can hold onto the reality of God after red letter days like Saturday. But if I am going to truly have ''faith that is sure of what we I hope for and certain of what we do not see'' as I read out from Hebrews 11 at the wedding, then that also means following the example of Qohelet and not abandoning God in the face of life's absurdities, but taking a step of faith and trusting in the unseen, no matter what season of life we find ourselves in.
And yes, sometimes this step of faith means we have to cling on for dear life in the face of life's difficulties.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
The One With Amanda's Thunder
Red letter days don't seem to come around very often so when they do, the best thing to do is celebrate them!
I've been away this weekend at the wedding of my friends Amanda and Alex.
Friends is perhaps too general a term. Amanda has been my friend and put up with me through thick and thin for nearly thirteen years. And (it may appear to be a cliche, but I don't use it often) she really is the closest thing to a sister that I have.
So it was all set up to be a good day and it did not disappoint! Alex and Amanda invited me to take part in the service and let me loose in front of all their guests to do a Bible reading. I was a bundle of nerves beforehand not wanting to do a bad job. However, the chance to stand in front of them both just after they had got married was well worth all the clammy palms and shaky hands that I was having to deal with during the build up. Seeing the broad smiles on their faces was truly special, though I quickly realised that sustained eye contact would cause me to choke up, never a good start when you are supposed to be reading!
Very quickly I came to realise that many of my most favourite people in the universe were in attendance and how often do you encounter that? Not nearly often enough.
But thanks Mark, Jo, Tanya, Louise, Chris, Richard, Jen, Rachel, Pete, Beth, Ben, Dee (and the many others that I've no doubt just offended by not including them, always a danger when you start listing things) for you're part in the day, it was great to see you all.
My point in all this? Firstly, the renewed awareness that I am humbled and privileged indeed to have great friends. The challenge of this is to make sure that I don't just appreciate them on the great days, but remind them of h0w much esteem I hold them in on a regular, if not daily, basis, (which goes for all the others I love who were not in attendance as well).
Secondly...well, it was probably the best wedding party I experienced which, for the hardcore, ended around 1am or just after. But the party did end although we wished it wouldn't. To put a spiritual perspective on stuff though, there is the reminder that, as we sang in church and read in Revelation 19:7-9, that there will one day be a wedding party that never ends.
I'll see you there, if you've responded to your invite that is...
Mr & Mrs Pickering, I love you.
I've been away this weekend at the wedding of my friends Amanda and Alex.
Friends is perhaps too general a term. Amanda has been my friend and put up with me through thick and thin for nearly thirteen years. And (it may appear to be a cliche, but I don't use it often) she really is the closest thing to a sister that I have.
So it was all set up to be a good day and it did not disappoint! Alex and Amanda invited me to take part in the service and let me loose in front of all their guests to do a Bible reading. I was a bundle of nerves beforehand not wanting to do a bad job. However, the chance to stand in front of them both just after they had got married was well worth all the clammy palms and shaky hands that I was having to deal with during the build up. Seeing the broad smiles on their faces was truly special, though I quickly realised that sustained eye contact would cause me to choke up, never a good start when you are supposed to be reading!
Very quickly I came to realise that many of my most favourite people in the universe were in attendance and how often do you encounter that? Not nearly often enough.
But thanks Mark, Jo, Tanya, Louise, Chris, Richard, Jen, Rachel, Pete, Beth, Ben, Dee (and the many others that I've no doubt just offended by not including them, always a danger when you start listing things) for you're part in the day, it was great to see you all.
My point in all this? Firstly, the renewed awareness that I am humbled and privileged indeed to have great friends. The challenge of this is to make sure that I don't just appreciate them on the great days, but remind them of h0w much esteem I hold them in on a regular, if not daily, basis, (which goes for all the others I love who were not in attendance as well).
Secondly...well, it was probably the best wedding party I experienced which, for the hardcore, ended around 1am or just after. But the party did end although we wished it wouldn't. To put a spiritual perspective on stuff though, there is the reminder that, as we sang in church and read in Revelation 19:7-9, that there will one day be a wedding party that never ends.
I'll see you there, if you've responded to your invite that is...
Mr & Mrs Pickering, I love you.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Top Five Records
So, those of you paying attention at the back will have noticed the presence of High Fidelity in my fave movies and books bit, and it's been a running theme for people to challenge just how sad I am by throwing obscure top fives in my direction.
Anyway, my friend Rachel has come up with the 'everest' of top fives. The task? Pick the top five songs that best express your personality.
After much mulling, I came up with this list. And, seeing as this is a place for me to be honest before the whole world, here's my selection, and my attempts to justify their inclusion
1. Coldplay- Fix You (kind of a new record but the sentiment reflects my sense of trying to fix every single situation I come across)
2.Embrace- The Good Will Come Out (like to think that my personality has that kind of grit-your-teeth, get on with and look towards a better day type vibe to it that this song has)
3. Radiohead-Creep (struggled with including this one-seems a bit cliched but sadly I'm prone to bouts of feeling like a creep, a weirdo and that I don't belong)
4. Echobelly- Great Things (cos a lot of my activism and work is fuelled by that fact I want to achieve stuff that's long lasting and great!)
5. Bob Dylan- Most of The Time (most of Bob's recent stuff isn't as well known as the early stuff, but this song is really good. Personality wise I relate to this, trying to get on with things, saying I'm alright and healed from past hurts, when really it's only most of the time that I'm OK and some days really hurt. A bit deep, but felt I needed to justify the inclusion of this song all the more!)
So there. Anyone else care to chip in?
Anyway, my friend Rachel has come up with the 'everest' of top fives. The task? Pick the top five songs that best express your personality.
After much mulling, I came up with this list. And, seeing as this is a place for me to be honest before the whole world, here's my selection, and my attempts to justify their inclusion
1. Coldplay- Fix You (kind of a new record but the sentiment reflects my sense of trying to fix every single situation I come across)
2.Embrace- The Good Will Come Out (like to think that my personality has that kind of grit-your-teeth, get on with and look towards a better day type vibe to it that this song has)
3. Radiohead-Creep (struggled with including this one-seems a bit cliched but sadly I'm prone to bouts of feeling like a creep, a weirdo and that I don't belong)
4. Echobelly- Great Things (cos a lot of my activism and work is fuelled by that fact I want to achieve stuff that's long lasting and great!)
5. Bob Dylan- Most of The Time (most of Bob's recent stuff isn't as well known as the early stuff, but this song is really good. Personality wise I relate to this, trying to get on with things, saying I'm alright and healed from past hurts, when really it's only most of the time that I'm OK and some days really hurt. A bit deep, but felt I needed to justify the inclusion of this song all the more!)
So there. Anyone else care to chip in?
There's Something Inspired Going On Here...
Well probably not. But I'm trying to grab attention in this whole blog world thing, so I'm sure you can forgive me for a little overstatement on the first post.
Why the sudden interest in starting a blog? And what do I have to say of any interest anyway? Both very good questions, if I do say so myself.
I guess the answer to the second question will become apparant after a few weeks of me typing random thoughts-we'll soon see if there is anything interesting that I have to say. But I've seen a few of these about from various characters I've encountered over the years and thought 'if they can do it, it must be easy!'. Not strictly true, but I was amazed how reading the thoughts of others was thought provoking and inspiring.
And to quote Orlando Bloom in Ridley Scott's 'Kingdom of Heaven' -'what man is a man who does not make the world better?' And if I can make the world better by inspiring someone with a positive mesage, or making friends and/or strangers laugh at my stupidity, well, guess that will be good too.
Thanks for playing the game and reading this far.
Check back soon
Paul
Why the sudden interest in starting a blog? And what do I have to say of any interest anyway? Both very good questions, if I do say so myself.
I guess the answer to the second question will become apparant after a few weeks of me typing random thoughts-we'll soon see if there is anything interesting that I have to say. But I've seen a few of these about from various characters I've encountered over the years and thought 'if they can do it, it must be easy!'. Not strictly true, but I was amazed how reading the thoughts of others was thought provoking and inspiring.
And to quote Orlando Bloom in Ridley Scott's 'Kingdom of Heaven' -'what man is a man who does not make the world better?' And if I can make the world better by inspiring someone with a positive mesage, or making friends and/or strangers laugh at my stupidity, well, guess that will be good too.
Thanks for playing the game and reading this far.
Check back soon
Paul
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