Christians protecting Muslims while they pray during protests in Egypt © NevineZaki
I am pretty sure that this is what ‘love your neighbour as yourself‘ looks like. May it be a metaphor for the future of Egypt and an example to the wider world in the weeks and months to come.
via Jesus Needs New PR and Reddit.
“The leaves of our blessed lives fall to the ground and if we’re wise … we gather them in a pile and keep them safe lest the winds of forgetfulness blow them away.”
— Philip Gulley
Jack’s one of a kind, many times over. Ever since our days together at East 15 Acting School, I have known some of these Jacks. Each is a leaf in my blessed life which I now gather in a pile lest my winds of forgetfulness blow them away.
Jack the caring curmudgeon;
Jack the exasperated deflator of theatrical pomposity;
Jack the seeker of honesty;
Jack the Dad who loved and tried;
Jack the earnest conversationalist;
Jack the skilled stretcher of a dole cheque;
Jack the lifelong musician;
Jack the succinct sage;
Jack the ‘Technique’ Alpha to the ‘Method’ Omega;
Jack the mate to troubled teens;
Jack the punk;
Jack the best Bad Fairy ever;
Jack the burner of sofas;
Jack the closet cowboy and Western lover;
Jack the sharer of large bar tabs;
Jack the perpetual wearer of Doc Martens;
Jack the loving son in the RAF club;
Jack the encyclopedia of popular music;
Jack the groom whom I best-manned;
Jack the innocent who asked me how the internet worked;
Jack my friend who died and left a hole in many lives.
More by heart and guesswork than reason, I sense Jack carried more than most could manage or fully understand – melancholia echoing from a different time, frustrations with why the world didn’t work his way and some deep dislocation that he could never seem to express.
In a world that leaks and dribbles grace into the cracks of our indifference, Jack had a bruised and persistent grace that touched those who chose to look below the surface. Jack’s grace was in his reflection and kindness, his music and his passion, his mad-cappery and his jester’s japes and the brutal honesty of the friendship we shared.
I trust that as ‘The Old Rugged Cross’ plays for Jack next week, God takes Jack at his word and extends His unceasing grace to my gracious friend.
I had an interesting day with SWMBO today starting with an offhand discussion that started with us talking about moving our shed so we could paint the house. This led to a discussion about whether or not to pursue the idea of buying a sleep-out to accommodate our growing band of teenagers. Before we knew it, we’d concluded that this idea had little merit and were driving up and down the Hibiscus Coast looking at properties.
While we’re blessed to have this lovely home and feel happy & settled here, our family is now effectively comprised of two mid-lifers, two young adults, a ‘tweenager’ and fast-growing primary schooler. Similarly, with changes in schools and colleges, the geography of our life has subtly shifted and we now find ourselves spending a significant amount of time on the Hibiscus Coast. So, while we have no immediate plans to move, we find ourselves thinking about shifting again and all that it entails. I find myself excited in an unexpected kind of way and, in the light of a number of things going on in our lives right now, wondering if this is God’s prompting; definitely something to pray on and consider.
To end a lovely day, we ate freshly-caught kingfish fillets, care of our good friend and intrepid film-maker Tony, and the crew of the seafearing launch Ballistic. I cooked mine to an authentic Cajun recipe that you can find on my much-neglected food blog, Big Boy’s Brunch.
Friday 3rd December 2010 in Waimauku, New Zealand
Jesus said to him, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’ ”
Matthew 4:10
We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives, so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God.
Colossians 1:9-10
And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate[a] the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.
2 Corinthians 3:18
He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the LORD require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.Micah 6:8
Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.
Psalms 119:105
Omnipresenceafter “Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” Exodus 3:5
I walked the other day along a riverAnd watched the ducks and heardsome hawkings’ cries;Then suddenly the nearness of my SaviourBrought tears of joy and wonder to my eyes.Oh, praise the Lord!“This earth is crammed with heaven!”Oh, praise the Lord!And, Christian, look around!For every bush you pass with fire is flaming.And every spot you treat is holy ground.I stopped the other day to watch a fountainAnd marvelled at the magic of its grace;Then suddenly my heart was on a mountainAnd worshiping Jehovah face to face!I wept the other day – oh, Christian, hear it!I wept the other day without control,But suddenly the blessed Holy SpiritSpoke peace again and calmed my needy soul.Oh, praise the Lord!“This earth is crammed with heaven!”Oh, praise the Lord!And, Christian, look around!For every bush you pass with fire is flaming.And every spot you tread is holy ground.by Anne Ortlund
Catching up on my blog reading, I clicked through Dave Funkypancake’s pictures to find one of me, enjoying myself at the afternoon tea celebrating the Funkypancake family’s first year in New Zealand. Nothing remarkable in that, save to say that it was nice to note that the photo was in Dave’s ‘friends’ category and I am glad to have him as my friend.
I have had a day of positive avian influence.
This morning, I woke to the alarm and, having switched it off, lay back to listen to the tuis out-sqwauking the other early birds in the trees along our little road. They seemed to be a happy bunch and very much enjoying life and this made me smile.
Later, I was in a lunchtime Quaker meeting for worship with my eyes closed, enjoying the silence and the sun streaming through the window. I gradually became aware of the birdcall outside the window, competing with but somehow less distracting than the traffic noise and sirens. Again, I smiled at their busy noisiness and returned to my prayer.
Still later, in the middle of a meeting with my boss this afternoon, we were distracted by a colourful pair of Rainbow Lorikeets (thanks for the identification, Ray) in the tree outside my office window. We laughed and jointly decided to suspend the meeting for a few minutes so we could enjoy their antics and I could take a few pictures before reconvening.
Just a few more lovely reasons why it’s nice to live and work in NZ!
Isn’t it funny how our self-reliance and self-centredness so easily convinces us that we’re the only one that feels a particular way when all along there are many, including those close to us, who feel the same or share the same concerns?
Having been enlightened by Tony and Felicity Dale’s Simply Church, I have spent a week or two processing my reactions to the politics and demands of denominational church and how it affects my behaviour and feelings. After a year of scratching this particular itch, I am now aware that I am not the only one feeling this way and can now see more and more people are seeking a more authentic expression of their faith.
Reading further on simple faith, I am drawing some comfort and much inspiration from Marcus Borg’s Reading The Bible Again for the First Time, finding it to be a serious, cogent and scholarly examination of the scriptural literalism that I find so hard to process intellectually. Likewise, I have been similarly intrigued by the simplicity of the The Church of Two concept which, in its simplest form, is about two people practising two spriritual disciplines and sharing together daily. From the stories posted at LK10 resources, Stories From The Revolution and The Scilla Blog amongst other places, it seems like this practise is helping folk to deepen friendships, get closer to their families and initiate postive change in their lives.
I mentioned CO2 to the three guys I meet with weekly with a view to taking things up a notch between our weekly catch-ups. As a result, I have swapped a couple of emails and calls with one of them by way of a gentle try-out and we intend to explore it as a group. Then, at the end of the Sunday service, our youth pastor was prompted to speak on our need to been more immediate and authentic with each other. Rightly calling us to reflect on dashing off from church the second the service is over or remaining only to swap snippets of news over coffee after the service, he asked why we don’t stay and share the deeper fellowship we so easily speak about but rarely practice.
In the discussion that followed, I shared a little about my recent journeying and CO2, while others spoke of seeking more connection and relationship, rather than religion and ‘church’. After praying for a couple who are leading a youth mission to the US to work at The Dream Center in the weeks to come, we parted with a commitment to make small but intentional changes to support one another better.
Elsewhere, we have been trying to be a little more intentional and missional in our lives. One way of doing this has been our Tuesday night pot luck dinners where we open our home to all comers for a few hours, with the only aim being to share food and friendship with whoever steps across the threshold. While far from a new idea, we felt this was a solid and sustainable way to get alongside others on a more regular basis.
On the first Tuesday, no-one came. We sat around the table eating our meal and feeling a little deflated that nobody had taken up the invitation. On reflection, this was a good thing and perhaps challenged us on our motives and ensured our hearts were in the right place. Last week, with our expectations adjusted and hearts humbled, we were blessed to see another family of six and two couples join us at the table for what was a lovely evening of simply fellowship. The eight kids wolfed their food and were soon engrossed in a variety of games, while the eight grown-ups shared freely and laughed heartily for a couple of hours. With today being Tuesday, it’ll be interesting to see who, if indeed anyone, joins us in half an hour’s time.
A quick post for no other reason than to share a nice true story.
Just wolfing down my packed lunch after a lunchtime run with a colleague. Though not particularly long or hard, this was my first run in about 18 months so the warm post-exercise glow of smugness and achievement is surpassed only by the cramp in my legs.
Any thoughts I might entertain about moaning over sore muscles and an expanding waistline are banished by thinking about Dick and Rick Hoyt. I was reminded of their incredible story again last night when my second eldest, recently returned from the BYM Leadership weekend, showed me a video of their achievements.
Rick was once asked, if he could give his father one thing, what would it be? Rick responded, “The thing I’d most like is for my dad to sit in the chair and I would push him for once.”
A clearer example of love between father and son I can’t imagine.
The content of Radio Lab’s podcast rarely fails to interest or entertain and, while it was slow to grip me, the recent ‘Afterlife’ episode contained some absolute gems. It was comprised of eleven different ideas, views and suppositions around the concept of an afterlife and included a number of contributions by neuroscientist David Eagleman taken from his collection of short fiction pieces Sum: Forty Tales From the Afterlife.
‘Ineffable’ is one of these and, as someone currently involved in winding up a large proportion of a business and facing redundancy, it certainly struck a chord as I drove to work this morning. I found myself nodding in recognition as I heard the metaphors in the first paragraph, the assertion that death is for everything and the observation that things have a past. Elsewhere, I liked the notion that we might be grieved by the atoms from which we are made and the fancy that they might mourn the time they spend together as part of us.
When soldiers part ways at war’s end, the breakup of the platoon triggers the same emotion as the death of a person–it is the final bloodless death of the war. This same mood haunts actors on the drop of the final curtain: after months of working together, something greater than themselves has just died. After a store closes its doors on its final evening, or a congress wraps its final session, the participants amble away, feeling that they were part of something larger than themselves, something they intuit had a life even though they can’t quite put a finger on it.
In this way, death is not only for humans but for everything that existed.
And it turns out that anything which enjoys life enjoys an afterlife. Platoons and plays and stores and congresses do not end–they simply move on to a different dimension. They are things that were created and existed for a time, and therefore by the cosmic rules they continue to exist in a different realm.
Although it is difficult for us to imagine how these beings interact, they enjoy a delicious afterlife together, exchanging stories of their adventures. They laugh about good times and often, just like humans, lament the brevity of life. The people who constituted them are not included in their stories. In truth, they have as little understanding of you as you have of them; they generally have no idea you existed.
It may seem mysterious to you that these organizations can live on without the people who composed them. but the underlying principle is simple: the afterlife is made of spirits. After all, you do not bring your kidney and liver and heart to the afterlife with you–instead, you gain independence from the pieces that make you up.
A consequence of this cosmic scheme may surprise you: when you die, you are grieved by all the atoms of which you were composed. They hung together for years, whether in sheets of skin or communities of spleen. With your death they do not die. Instead, they part ways, moving off in their separate directions, mourning the loss of a special time they shared together, haunted by the feeling that they were once playing parts in something larger than themselves, something that had its own life, something they can hardly put a finger on.
Ineffable by David Eagleman
It is intriguing to note that the book has received critical acclaim from people of faith and atheists alike, so I have requested the book through my local library and look forward to reading more of Eagleman’s forty tales.