Worth a Thought

Letter from an Army Chaplain in Iraq:

Dear Friends and Family:

I am addressing this letter to you to express a frustration that I know has been voiced time and again, yet is met with little change. It concerns the media coverage of this war and the effect of that coverage on the morale of our troops. As a battalion chaplain I hear the comments and
complaints of soldiers who, while performing an incredibly difficult job under hostileand stressful conditions, constantly see their efforts portrayed as futile. NBC's coverage this morning (your Thursday evening, 16 September 2004) is a prime example that I believe shows the gulf that
exists between the truth of what is happening here and the deceitful agenda of the mainstream media at home and abroad.

Only 24 hours ago the NBC media crew arrived here and filmed hours of footage with our unit. They were told of numerous projects in which our unit is involved, not only in the area of force protection and Troop Medical Clinic support, but also in humanitarian aide to a local village
here in Baghdad. Here is an example of some of the projects to which they were introduced:

1. The reconstruction and furnishing of a clinic
2. Miscellaneous enhancements for a local elementary school and a local
day care center
3. Reconstruction of the decimated electrical, sewer and water systems
4. Reparation of exterior walls and gates surrounding the village
5. Rubble and garbage removal projects to clean up the entire village
6. Construction of a protective chain link fence around the local Shi'a
Mosque
7. Studies to examine the development of agricultural systems and a
garment industry to help the locals provide for themselves
8. The ever-growing clothing and school supplies drive for the children of
the village

In the roughly one minute clip that they drew from their day of filming, what did they show? The First Lieutenant who is the primary driver of these projects was shown with one quote about never believing he would be in Iraq, being a National Guard soldier. This was followed by their interview of another soldier's wife, saying her husband was supposed to have retired this summer, that his responsibility to the military should be over and that he should be home. They showed NOTHING of the great humanitarian efforts that are going on here!

It is coverage like this that is convincing more and more soldiers that the consistent media agenda is to show you, the American people, the futility of our current efforts and how everything is going wrong. There is no apparent attempt to show all the good that is happening that, for those of us who are here, far outweighs the very weak, though spectacular, moments of insurgency. And we see it via satellite, just as you do. In a day of great violence across the country, last Sunday, where the insurgency failed to take one American life, what one film clip was shown over and over? They showed the lone burning Bradley fighting vehicle, with
Iraqis dancing on and around it, waving flags of the insurgency. Out of the thousands of troops who made it safely around Baghdad and the country that day, the media focused on one piece of impressive footage and repeated it over and over until the viewer receives the message that this is all that went on in Iraq today - an insurgent victory. I also remember how the body count, for two days thereafter, was printed in ever-increasing increments, never mentioning who the casualties were - giving the impression that they were American casualties.

The despair and depression, as well as the thankfully limited anti-war sentiment, over our country's efforts in Iraq are not based upon all of the facts. They are rather based on what the media has chosen to show - and what they have chosen NOT to show. The media knows that they can always find those willing to complain, grouse, protest and disagree. And they splash those voices all over their screens and pages, drowning out to tell you, as I am, that there is good going on here.

There are things going on here you would be proud of, things that would bring tears to your eyes; like the looks of parents whose children are going to school for the first time in years, equipped with pencils, pens and paper and clothed with clean new clothes. There are essential services being provided to people to whom they were denied under the oppressive regime of Saddam Hussein. There is a trial going on for that man and at least eleven of his evil cronies who, let us remember, killed over 300,000 people under the watchful eye of the United Nations (pun intended) during the 12 years they had responsibility for the health and welfare of this
nation (yes, the same, inept organization that is currently ignoring the Darfur, Sudan, slaughter of Christians by Islamic fundamentalists). This was the same time that the oil-for-food program monies were being used to line the pockets of Saddam and his friends and build luxurious palaces like the ones our forces now occupy as he had quarters all over this nation. And Saddam all the while complained that it was "American Sanctions" that were killing his people. I don't remember a sanction that required a mass grave.

Please know that the media is NOT giving you the right picture, much less the WHOLE picture. They have an agenda, it is clear, and that agenda does not include the current administration claiming success in this endeavor. It is unclear if their sensationalist "reporting" will change if the administration changes. The one thing I know as I watch the morale of the men who are here doing the job is that every time the enemy's paltry attacks are made out by the media to be marker events in Iraq, it becomes a little harder for soldiers to see value in even the greatest things we are doing. Your care packages, your letters and your constant prayers are the only
things that remind us that the majority of thoughtful Americans are truly behind this effort and that what we are doing has great value. Don't let that go. Keep supporting your troops, not just in word, but in action. Remember this: You cannot support the troops AND denigrate the war effort. It is a logical and a practical inconsistency. While the soldier fights the enemy, he needs those behind him to offer support to his back, not daggers.

The news media is one of the greatest threats to this war. Just ask a terrorist. Every time he can do something desperate and spectacular and have the effect with one man blowing himself up in a crowd that an entire U.S. Brigade has in securing a city, the media has thrown terror the
victory. It is not the side that wins the most ground anymore that is victorious, but the one that can satiate the blood-hungry media. We have given them the stories they need to show how much we are truly doing. The question then must turn to why they have a fascination with making the villain the victor. If we win this war, it may not be much of a story for them, but if we lose it...

Your troops are doing amazing things here - things many of them are not even trained to do, like a medical platoon leader doing public works projects! I hope that either the media start showing the REAL stories here or that you will show your contempt of their deceitfulness with your
complaints and, ultimately, with your vote. Don't watch the news media that thrives on the death of American soldiers to bump their ratings! And remember your troops. Support of victory is support of your troops.

Sincerely, CH (CPT) Chris Bassett Baghdad, Iraq

The Consciouness and a Righteous Rage (of an "angry young man" - sorry Billy)

I received the following from a spiritual mentor today.

It was written by his brother - I only wish that I had captured the
thoughts as succinctly and as well supported anecdotally.

Encouraging to know that my journey's experience is not unique.

Where can I find such a worship experience? I don't see stumbling blocks
around me. The challenge is in seeing the opportunities to shape the
current environment to meet the needs reflected below.
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Well Dearly Beloved (you know who you are!)

I am just home from church and a blessed communion service and thought I
might share a bit with our marvelous family. Now if the word "share"
coming from me scares some of you into scrolling quickly to the end, just
rock back on the kick stand of your Harley for a little while and let's
chat (even if your Harley won't run anymore ... Can I get an Amen right
here?)

We were privileged to attend Calvary Chapel this morning where Pam and John
and Little John go to church (Little John goes to Cheerio Chapel, I
think.) The music of the current song, I am Forgiven lingers yet in my
soul dripping with fresh dew. "I am forgiven, because you were forsaken; I
am accepted, you were condemned, I am alive and well your Spirit lives
within me, because You died and rose again.  Amazing love, how can it be,
that You my King should die for me. Amazing love, I know it's true. Its my
joy to honor you.  In all I do,  I honor you."

I looked around this very full room of intensely involved people meeting in
the Memorial Auditorium in Chattanoogaand some thought occured to me. If
you will indulge me for a short visit over some cyber space ink, I will
share them with you.

Our kids have thrived spiritually at Calvary Chapel.  You must know how
very thrilling that is to a parent. Believe me when I tell you this is not
a parent time to brag about the kids (yours are perfect, but not mine), so
don't read that into the motive here. Back to the point. You may not
think of a non-denominational down town church as something with which you
are overly familiar, but similarities do exist. Some of what is different
may deserve an "Amen" too. Mind you, I am not on a recruiting mission for
Calvary Chapel, and certainly not with MY family. (Can I get another Amen
here!)

Calvary Chapel was birthed out of the Jesus Movement of the 1960's in Fort
Lauderdale, Florida. Now before I loose your attention, please let me
gently remind you that I read all the sermons and prayer letters each of
you send to me. I listen to your tapes and thorougly enjoy coming to your
churches and hearing your sermons in person. So back up on your kick
stand, I am fixin' to preach for a while my own self!

I was standing in the middle of the room before church started and a
question occured to me. Why was I comfortable here?  Should I be? I
guess part of the answer is because I came desparately wanting to worship.
Jackie, Lee and I have in transition for the last several weeks and have
had to misschurchbecause our ox was in a ditch somewhere between I-20 and
I-75!  I deeply needed to be free from the hassels of moving and worship
with other believers.  I came ready.

The other parts of the question were just as easy to figure out. I was
raised during the hippy generation. I came to understand my own generation
(and myself in relation to "them") sometime after I was grown. The roots
of this church are in winning that sub culture to Christ. Further,  the
church is reaching a lot of today's young adults. I have worked most of
my career among young people, so that aspect of my revelation of comfort is
no surprise to you. Finally, and not the least obvious, is, that like you,
I was privileged to be around strong preaching all of my life. Frank, the
pastor, is a serious expositor of the Word of God, no exception here. I am
at much at home with his preaching as I am with yours.

There is another observation. In the churches I have belonged to recently,
there seems to have been a strong power block of families, deacons or
whomever. Going to church in these places included having to pass an
acceptance thing before you were allowed to really fit in.   You really
just had to ignore the burdening weight of "the club" and worship anyway.
Meanwhile you needed to pray you did not have to work as a church staff
member there, as I so often have. I did not sense that kind of protectivism
this morning.

Maybe from the standpoint of church polity it is because Calvary Chapel is
merely accountable to its parent group in Florida, and not to the locals.
I saw a lot of really dedicated "worker bees" this morning, but nobody I
saw had a big ball of keys and looked like they were the self delegated
approval agents. I will have to think more about this polity thing. Maybe
it is because this church is so new that no one is one of the "old
families" of the church (yet) and exerts some sort of prior claim. Maybe
because they are in a rented building no one can claim, "THIS is my pew!
Granny died right here thirty years ago."

What about this acceptance thing?  Just maybe this body of believers was
built on something we are not really used to having. Separation from the
world in the old days meant being separated from hippies. Yes, I
understand what a hippy life style was better than you do . I also
remember how a huge part of the lost populace was publically denounced and
excluded from our churches. Remember that? No pants on women, no beards on
men, if you do, no church for you! Ain't that just like Jesus?

My education on the absolute wrongness of that attitude came from the very
mouth of the man who influenced me so very much in so many other ways. I
remember going to Teachers and Officers Meeting on Wednesday night under
Dr. Lee Roberson. Sunday School teachers were encouraged (required) to
stand up and tell how many people would be present for visitation on the
following night. A very proud teacher stood up and introduced a brand new
convert to the group that he had found and led to the Christ. There the
young man was, long hair and all, beaming from ear to ear, and he stood
up. Dr. Roberson literally exploded, "Young man, don't you DARE go out of
here and attempt and represent Highland ParkBaptistChurchuntil you get your
hair cut! Now, sit down!"

The churchof Jesus Christis under serious indictment by God for building an
ugly moat rather than building a beautiful bridge. I am of the strong
conviction that many of our separated churches are dying out today because
of the seeds sown fourty years ago. Can I get another Amen right here?
Perhaps one of the strengths I found so refreshing today was that opposite
spirit, you know the one I mean, the one of acceptance of all people where
ever you find them.

Across the isle from me today was a man who is running for mayor locally.
On the other side of me was a nationally known heart surgeon. They are
older so don't get the idea that all these congregants just left puberty.
I had attended another church a few years ago with the mayoral candidate -
under the ministry of Ben Haden.  When my friend Ben retired and the church
finally called another senior pastor, that vibrant church with its open
doors began to shrivil immediately. Why? The man they called was an old
school reformed Presbyterian, not like the evangelistic Ben Haden. Now the
church has become what the elders wanted all along, I guess, a stictly
reformed church, THEIR church. That church is literally across the street
from a state university. Not many of the students are crossing the moat
today. And the older,less-reformed group like us have all faded away too.
Am IÂ surprised to find these older families along with this host of
otherwise unchurched young people? Not really.

Another thing. Ben Haden, Lee Roberson and Bob Jones all taught us that
you can have harmony in the Body of Christ, even if everyone does not all
believe just alike. Ben went so far as to say he did not vouch for anyone
in his church, let alone the choir. He was just glad they were under the
Word. He preached to everyone as if they were lost.  The point, these
men drew the line fimly around the fundamentals of the faith with no
compromise at all. After that, variations in denomination of upbringing
that came through the front door were relegated to the patient growth and
teaching ministries of the church. Besides, what is a church if all the
members are homoginized then poured into the redundancy and boredom of a
cookie cutter. That comfort zone with no room for differences was truely
foreign in the New Testament church.

Yes, I know the church I attended this morning breaks the mold, but who
christened the mold we are used to anyway? The pastor was saved while he
and his wife were internationally known models. God gathers his preachers
from whereever He wants to! (He got YOU didn't He?)

Oh yeah, you thought I was going to miss music, didn't you? Fat chance.
The worship leader (song leader) was a lovely young lady who sat in front
of the worshipers on a stool, long straight hair, casually dressed and
wearing sandals. Sometimes she prays, sometimes she only directs one's
attention to the words on the screen. She did not wave her hands. Most of
the time you loose track of the fact she is there. What kind of music does
she choose? Don't rush me. It was "blended contemporary" and it moved my
soul!

Just so you will know. My soul is often moved deeply by the sound of Bill
Gaither's Vocal Band. And I got just as energized in my spirit when I
listened to the loftiness of the well trained choirs sing the great anthems
of the faith at First Presbyterian and Highland Park. I still get just as
thrilled when I hear the hymns and choruses that came into our church out
of the great revivals of this nation's youth. I grew up with those songs.
If you are trying to put MY music in a box with your label on it, you are
out of luck!

What does not lift my heart is when I hear the songs of my childhood sung
today in a hurried rote manner by zombies in the pew. No wonder song
leaders have to wave their arms so much! Somebody pawned off on
Christianity an approved list of songs to sing in an agonized fashion and
then "somebody" else came along and squelched creative and spiritual
involvement. Further more, I am in absolute pity with the emotional
poverty of those who tried to embrace change a few years ago and got no
further than the Ron Hamilton sound because of some ecclesiatical peer
pressure. Give me freedom everytime and get out from between me and my God
when I sing! ...such as it is! ...and give me some more alto sax and
percussion while I sing!!   Can I get another Amen here!! Aaaamen!.

Now I am just talking to the people I love the most (check the list). So
if your Harley is still resting on its kick stand, "far" that bad boy up
and send me a note. I would love to talk to you. I may have to go back to
work soon and miss the opportunity.


With love and compassion

 ..... (the Beloved)

Tragedies and Statistics

"A single death is a tragedy, a million deaths is a statistic" - Joseph Stalin.

I have just finished reading a book by Joe Rosenbaum called "Defy the Darkness" as part of writing an essay on the Holocaust.

Joe was a 14 year old Polish Jew living near the Russian border when Germany invaded in 1939. It was only written and published 3 years ago and really brings to mind the Stalin quote above as it recounts his 6 years of survival under the Nazi regime. Hearing first hand facets of existing in the ghettos, concentration camps (Auschwitz, Dachau), working for Mengeles himself and the measures required to survive were all quite moving, challenging and made me appreciate freedom. It also brought home the fact that hearing about 4 million Jews killed as a historical fact can only start to be appreciated when you consider them one at a time, hearing their stories. The irony being that they won't be told, except in kind by a survivor.

When I read the monthly Voice of the Martyrs newsletter there will be a deeper poignancy to the acts of persecution that Christians suffer. How long will our own freedoms last?
m<><
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In the spirit of anachronous juxtaposition - I thought this was funny:

A male frog goes to a psychic. The psychic tells him, "You are going to meet a beautiful young girl who will want to know everything about you."

The frog becomes excited, "This is great! Will I meet her at a party?" "No," says the psychic, "in her biology class."

Gorilla suits suit

Today on the radio I heard about one of those incidents in life that gives me a smile, caused me to reflect on how I did something similar once and now, a few years on - I would still do it given the chance, or maybe I still do if only in a different form.

The story concerned a 25 year old man in Belgium arrested for jumping out in front of bushwalkers and then running off, whilst wearing a gorilla suit. Locals reported gorilla sightings to police for several weeks. A crack team of trackers equipped with dogs and tranquiliser guns was formed to locate and remove the wild threat. The gorilla was eventually confronted
without the aid of the tranquiliser guns and released after relinquishing his suit. His excuse - he thought that peoples' lives were too boring and he wanted to give them some excitement!

I remember doing a similar thing at a Youth Group costume night. I had my parents drop me off at the Church early, it was mid winter and quite dark in the car park by 7 pm. Wearing my gorilla suit, I was able to hide in the bushes along the pathway and have some "good, clean, Christian fun" with the nerves of quite a few of my peers. Would I do it again? - in an
instant. Would I do it now? - you bet. Do I do it know? - I guess I do, wearing the suit of conformity every day, filling a role that I feel is no longer me (Wemmick!). But is the person inside the suit supposed to be frightened by it? And what forms the mirror that shows the suit to the wearer?

Maybe the suit is me, and I don't like the me it represents! Maybe I was called to this reality, but now the season is past and another is being prepared for me.

Andrew has Given Up On Calling. Does that show a satisfaction with where he is, therefore happy not to pursue another journey or destination (for now)? If I give up on "finding"/hearing" my calling does that mean that I can remain content here? God doesn't call us to contentment. He would like us to feel contentment in some spheres of our existence, but what distinguishes between contentment and complacency?

I don't think I can be content here, as a destination. Although I can find purpose here in two aspects:

1. It is where God has put me and I should remain, seeking contentment in His purpose until shown otherwise.

2. Acceptance of this reality is a part of the journey to my next destination (I didn't write this line from an eternal perspective, but it seems to have more depth in that regard).

Today's reality, wearing today's suit, is a stepping stone, a preparatory phase. Waiting for the next visit to the tailor of life for another fitting session. Of what cloth and cut? - my preference, but the tailor does the sewing.

Am I Wemmick?

Dickens' play with appearances is also highlighted in his characterization of Wemmick. Wemmick lives a dual life at home and at work. At work, he is Mr. Jagger's "yes man," and is devoted to imitating his boss. In contrast, as Wemmick approaches his home, a gradual softening of his character becomes apparent. In fact, the Wemmick who resides in his "castle," is a good example of a "true gentleman;" however, he cannot retain the title as it contradicts the drastic change in his character at work. Poor Wemmick must put on a mask in order to survive all of the horrible and immoral acts of people he is forced to deal with on a daily basis.
http://www.geocities.com/little_smurf/charles_dickens/essay.htm accessed on 21 Sep 04


One of Dickens' favourite devices of characterisation is the description of living creatures as though they were inanimate. In Great Expectations Wemmick is describe as a dry man, rather short in stature, with a square wooden face whose expression seemed to have been imperfectly chipped out with a dull-edged chisel. This impression of lack of animation is confirmed by the author's habit of describing his mouth as a post-office. Dickens shows an inveterate habit of separating the body into inanimate bits, which surely combines with his obsession with deformity. This separating out of a single feature has a startling effect. The feature stands in sharp relief as a menacing warning? Wemmick's mouth tightens into the post-office shape
as soon as he crosses the castle's drawbridge in his way back to the office, thus emphasising the breach between his completely split personality.
http://www.uned.es/dpto-filologias-extranjeras/cursos/LenguaInglesaIII/TextosYComentarios/dickens. htm
accessed on 21 Sep 04

Jaggers's clerk and Pip's friend, Wemmick is one of the strangest characters in Great Expectations. At work, he is hard, cynical, sarcastic, and obsessed with "portable property"; at home in Walworth, he is jovial, wry, and a tender caretaker of his "Aged Parent."
http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/greatex/characters.html accessed on 21 Sep 04

Convicting Silence: Functional Fiction

Today I write because my silence condemns me. A block has occured to thwart
my meagre abilities and frustrate my ambitious desires to add comment where
those that care to care can share.

SITREP: Exams and assignments for semester one over and the liberty of no
guilt when time is spent away from study.

God continues to bless with teaching and reaching, speaking and seeking. Am
I going into a slight depression which seems to pervade my fibre when I
don't have a pressing task to distract my focus?

Many instances of the Holy Spirit arising as a teaching or discussion point
- prayer meeting, sunday school, sunday message, Keith Green devotional,
Rick Warren in PDL - certainly is allowing a focus on the entity and
character that He is.

Today's annoyance: secular (or Christian) music that mainstreams Angels as
a "new age" or spiritual representation of a "higher power". Although I
can't wait to see the angels in this world or the next, I think it is too
touchy feely and playing into the hands of an agenda of watered down
spirituality just to make the ignorant feel good about addressing the
spiritual. Maybe I am just extra grumpy today and should pull my head in -
Bah humbug!!

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I want to write some fiction for the following reasons:

1. Andrew has challenged us today to do so.
2. It is something that I should be doing to allow the expression and
development of my creative desire
3. The unreal can be so much more liberating/satisfying/secure/benign than
the reality before us.
4. I feel that every day there is a function of fiction in the roles that I
play and the expectations others have of me. Is this just me or do we all
feel this way? Should I feel like a fraud when others are getting the
fictional me, or is my reality presented differently depending on audience?
Is the fraud not in the different representations, some more me than
others, but in the agenda or hoped for gain by presenting differently? If I
do it subconsciously is it to be held to account against me, or is it in
fact my reality? No conscious agenda must mitigate any guilt felt by
knowing the real me and the difference between me and what you
see?!?!?!?!?!?

hmmmm - perhaps I had better spend tonight grounding in the real world -
hot date with Kel to go see Shrek 2 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Collected thoughts during my absence

The other day I was in a coffee shop in the city and bumped into someone that I had only seen once in the last 6 years. He had started his military training a year behind me and left the Army after 8 years. He is now a contractor in IT architecture and very much at the cutting edge of technology and the attendant politics and money that go along with that field.

Our conversation was meaningful and pleasant, drifting along the way into purpose for life. He seemed to hint at an emptiness in his.

Relationships? ‘..they come and go’. Material satisfaction ..’London,…seaside apartments, …sports cars, …business investments…don’t know what else to spend my money on…wish I had more time to myself’ – go figure.

I had been studying sonnets for an upcoming exam at my table when he had come up to me. As we parted, he - to his chocolate chip muffin, I - back to my text; a life verse from the Bard was there before me. Once again a verse for the moment from a source other than inspired scripture.

Feeling a little of an under-achiever in the world’s view, my balance was quickly restored by the following:

Sonnet 29:

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least:
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee,--and then my state
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings'.

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How about this for a Christian mantra:

Giles Corey in The Crucible by Arthur Miller, upon being tortured to confess to witchcraft by large stones being placed on him will not give a ‘yae or a nae’, instead he cries but two words: ‘more weight’ and dies! How willing am I to cry “more weight” in defiance of the circumstance pressing down?!

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Juxtaposition: On Thursday I say a nun driving a Subaru Impreza WRZ!

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Thought from SS today: Joseph served a 20 year training program of perceived injustice as a slave, prisoner and Egyptian official, before God’s ultimate purpose was revealed for, and in his life.

Collecting the Mail

Don't berate me, I am only trying to maintain some domestic order for you. Besides, I am once again neglecting you and feel convicted to at least let you know I passed by the neighbourhood, even if quality time is not forthcoming!
-
Look, the mail box is, well, in the mail! Some things are worth worrying over and some are not. Anyway - current project - 2000 words on broadcast evangelism. Yes I know it sounds like fun, but really it is one of those things that you would love to do justice to then realise that 2000 words and other time commitments will not allow you to do any more than get a 'tick in the box'.
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I know that my study should be a priority, but balance is needed. I need to devote time to my best friend. I am hopeful of a romantic interest developing, if only she would see past the domestic civility within which we exist. The indicators are there, I just need to let her know that she touches my heart as well as the synapse of my extremities. Failure will result in a Stygian mood from which extraction will require a major operation aimed at regime change!
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Why do life verses have to come from the Bible, good source but not always what is on the mind or heart - fear of excommunication starting to rise like a fundamentalist bile in my spiritual throat. Today's verse (hopeful of achieving afore mentioned intent):

To His Coy Mistress

Had we but World enough, and Time,
This coyness Lady were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long Loves Day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges side
Should'st Rubies find: I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood:
And you should if you please refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than Empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should grow to praise
Thine Eyes, and on thy Forehead Gaze.
Two hundred to adore each Breast:
But thirty thousand to the rest.
An Age at least to every part,
And the last Age should show your Heart.
For Lady you deserve this State;
Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I alwaies hear
Times winged Charriot hurrying near:
And yonder all before us lye
Desarts of vast Eternity.
Thy Beauty shall no more be found;
Nor, in thy marble Vault, shall sound
My echoing Song: then Worms shall try
That long preserv'd Virginity:
And you quaint Honour turns to dust;
And into ashes all my Lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hew
Sits on thy skin like morning [dew],
And while thy willing Soul transpires
At every pore with instant Fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our Time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapt pow'r.
Let us roll all our Strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one Ball:
And tear our Pleasures with rough strife,
Through the Iron gates of Life.
Thus, though we cannot make our Sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Andrew Marvel (1621-1678)

Trying times

I'm trying OK. Technology doesn't come easy. Be patient.

junk mail

House warming gift

...Yes I know it is a surprise to see me back again so soon. I promised a house warming gift. I have tried to fit a mail box for you.

Hope you like it.

bye.

Thought I Would Drop By

Hello...hello...hello....

Kind of lonely around here. It has been a while, but I finally managed to call by. I see you have redecorated since I last came round. Looks OK, will take some getting used to.

So much to tell you since I last visited, it is lonely when you don't get to share your goings on..

...Yeah I know how you feel, kind of mean spirited to cut you out for so long but you know, with study and work and the dog and romance... sometimes priorities change!

...I don't mean to say you are a lesser priority, our relationship is important, but, well, the pressures of life can push you around, where you don't necessarily want to go.

...So what brought me here today?.. why do you ask, do you suspect my motive?

...No I am not here to avoid something else, what suggests that to you?

...Who told you that I have an assignment due? Was it Hootie?

...So what if there is housework to be done, you don't know that for sure, you never come around yourself!

...I know you only exist in the virtual world, but for an ethereal confidante (and that is being generous) you are making some heavy accusations.

...I'm sorry OK. I will try and visit more regularly.

So I like what you have done with the place, I'll try and think of a housewarming gift for you. If Andrew calls by let him know that I am around.

Ales and Ailments

Last night I shared an ale with some new young(ish) acquaintances, expecting some insightful discussion on the day's brain molding, based around Othello and T.S. Eliot. Instead I received an insight into the ailments of today's youth culture.

Conversation flowed with stories of rural and urban heroics (mostly based around urban myth and their believability needing to be ascertained through the filter of accepted hyperbole).

To understand how unfulfilled my conservative Christian choice of adolescent behaviour was, the following catalogue demonstrates an acknowledgement of what I already new about modern secular attitudes, but in my everyday world am able to insulate myself from:

1. Acceptance of teenage sexual activity as a matter of course, with no moral context or need for remorse or ashamedness.

2. The prominence of alcohol abuse and the need for drunkenness in a bored teenagers life.

3. Drug use as an accepted diversion from the realities of this world.

4. Run ins with the police due to poor timing, stupidity or boundary pushing - usually with no premeditation.

The following are activities, with the same caveat of believability that I really feel I missed out on, but now I have a number of stories that can begin with - I knew someone once who...

1. ....kidnapped 60 garden gnomes in one night - and his mother made him return them to the police station. After 3 months no one had claimed them and they have been in his families back yard for 10 years, as an army of witnesses to teenage folly.

2. ... nearly drowned in a sheep dipping race when falling (due to drunkenness) backwards off the rail at a paddock party

3. ...had a house demolition party with a $20 sedan and a rental house that was to be pulled down the next day

etc

Miss Bennet and Mr Darcy await.

m<><

Puritan Thought and Practical Theology

In reading about the period of Puritan settlement and 'sense of community' in America up to the end of the 18th C, the challenge of ensuring that the 21st C equivalent of legalism is not given a hold in attitude and actions is reinforced.

Arthur Miller reinforces the issue in "The Crucible" - when was the last "witch hunt" conducted in our worship community. The scars of illogical theological argument and constriction last a long time when teenage years are influenced in such a manner.

Like Proctor, I too have ploughed on a Sunday, but I am no witch. Fortunately our Mr Hale breathes life and light, denying the establishment of an attitude of piety based on medieval superstition.

I'm Back (intermittent input)

Back on the air
Would anybody care!

For those who care to me,
they know why.
For those who don't care,
well - it hardly matters, does it?

A day traveling to the University of New England (the Aus version) in the New South Wales Tablelands. Once again planes, trains and automobiles have taken me into new dimensions of human experience. Some questions from today's conversations (with strangers):

Why do people just assume evolution is a given?

What possesses a man(?) to spend hours on a bus putting on makeup?

Why do retro play lists on Video Hits bring back such powerful memories? Is it a sad/bad thing that our reminiscent subconscious is triggered by cultural flags and not milestones from a Christian walk. Is this symptomatic of the blurring of insulation and isolation from the world?

My constant companions are the authors who provide the cultural measure of modern literary development. They demand my time and make me a servant; my time is beholding to them. I think K is getting suspicious of my new friends and wants to claim her position of number one love back. I must stall her until my relationship is complete. Oh that a man's helpmate would be so understanding in all issues.

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Winter delays her arrival as the grass stays brown, the trees shed their perennial litter and the level in the water tank drops lower. Positives abound: the longer it takes to start using the fire, the longer the wood will last; the chickens have warmer weather to settle into their new environment; K will not have to "boost" the leckie B in my absence.

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Shall miss worship tomorrow - what will the kids do without their number one monkey to lead them?

Enough vague ramblings from a miscreant muser.

m<><

The Time Tyranny Takes Troubling Tenure, Touches Too Torturously, Tells Tantilising Titbits, Tastes Tantamount To Teasing Totems

The 16th Century Bard is stealing all my reflective time! Fourteen lines at a time:

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art 34 with a strong hot wind!
(work in progress)

Now the Moor of Venice seeks to smother me, the same fate as Desdemona, but less dramatic in my academic pursuit.

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Is prayer a privilege, an honour, a duty, a responsibility - or a composite of all?

Will there be aluminium foil in heaven?

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Sometimes I feel that if we had children then you would have something to occupy your time and you would stop annoying me.
Other times I feel too selfish to want to share you with anyone, even a child born from our own flesh and blood.

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Further challenges today about the eternal perspective - preach it pastor.

m<><

Thick Fog and Thick Heads

What would I give up for God? Would I give up my job, my house, my wife? What would I give up for God?

Driving down off the mountain to work the other day the fog was quite thick (supposedly the middle of summer!). As the fog thickens the traffic is forced to slow down to give enough reaction time, ie visibility determines the speed of travel. So too in life, as visibility of what is coming decreases, it has become increasingly apparent that we need to slow down to allow ourselves the ability to react in time to any unforeseen events figuratively speaking - another car, pot hole, road kill etc.

How does this sit with a Christian perspective? Should not a faith in God remove the need for reaction time?

Where does our Christian road sense end and flying blind with God in charge begin?

Should we ever consider ourselves in the driver's seat? Would you reach over and grab the wheel from the passenger seat if another was driving in the fog? When do we let God take the wheel? Should I always be in the passenger seat?

I am sure Wayne Watson sang about two hands on the wheel a while ago - finally out of control for God!

===================

We had better get used to talking to God because one day that is what we are going to be doing in Heaven. We know the reality of this, so why can't we dedicate time and effort to maintain a dialogue with him now? How hard can it be? Do we have to vocalise? Doesn't God know our hearts groanings through the Holy Spirit's intercession?

k143
m<><

Promotion, Prayer, Passion, Pride & Power

Can I say that best intentions are thwarted by the reality of life? Once again writing will be to catch up rather than to maintain and develop thoughts.

Last Friday I was promoted. K was excited and I think I am, but to be honest I have been too busy to figure out whether I am or not. The funny thing is, I am working at least as twice as hard as last year (not out of choice), and I think I am enjoying it. Different responsibilities, different boss, isn’t it funny how God can provide blessings in a manner contrary to our desires. I don’t think I was praying for a massively increase in workload!?


Another storm of the century passed through recently (two in two months!?! Time was created for man, not God) Ethan was watching it out of the window, sheets of water, hail stacking up in the gutters, wind blowing – turns to Mum and asks as only a 4 year old could – “Mum, were we praying for run?… This much rain?”


Last night in the city I started talking to a young man who was sitting begging. He claimed to be homeless, jobless, unable to get welfare as he was from New Zealand and had not been in Australia long enough to qualify. I shared with him a tract and tried to elicit some hope with him. He appeared very resigned to having had bad luck his whole life. Pray for Trent, he has our church address and contact, pray he might respond and that we might have hearts for those who, through choice or circumstance believe their options are limited and cannot see beyond, if indeed up to, their next meal or squat.


Feeling settled about an opportunity taken after talking to Trent we made our way back to the car to head home. satan had a plan. A good night amongst the bright lights of city shops, China town (why were we in a Japanese restaurant?), second hand bookshops – finished up with a typical car park standoff I am sure would be the basis of at least one Seinfeld episode, and good character material for Homer Simpson. My pride defeated me. It took advice, insight and pointed discussion from my wife to highlight the contrast of my passion for a homeless man against the pride of my trying to prove a point in getting out of the car park.


Sunday night video series – three chairs. Last week we learnt we need to be in the first chair with God. Very empowering to see how our relationship with God can be boiled down to a hierarchical metaphor.

Seeking the First Chair,
Remaining aware,
Remembering our only care,
A reason for no despair.

The Two-Day Weekend Becomes A Day of Work for Self and a Traditional Sabbath

This year K and I have determined that the humanistic philosophy of five days of work and two days of leisure does not become us. Probably more out of the reality of needing to spend Saturday doing all the work for ourselves that the working week schedule does not allow us to get done Mon to Fri. But it was nice for a short while to consider ourselves Pharisaic in our application of the law to our lifestyles! I am feeling very religious about the work ethic on the Sabbath though.

Recognition in the law of lifestyle aspects that apply, out of necessity or choice, in a modern world is sometimes interesting, sometimes shocking. What about tithing? Why not give one day a fortnight to full time service instead of work. Does that qualify as one tenth, one twelth or one fourteenth? Why does all giving end up being boiled down to dollars? And can I really claim a mouldy sandwich in my lunchbox as a modern day version of the temple showbread?!

Tomorrow I start a further commitment for this year, despite my subconscious mantra of deciding to become as disinstitutionalised as possible. I will be the leader in Sunday School opening time. Quite ironic, given my perceived lack of children skills. Maybe my childlike heart will help. Oh to be more childlike in the areas that really matter.

Committed to writing but should be committed in writing

So I have chastised myself to be more disciplined and write as frequently as I can, not as frequently as I feel the urge. This requires some commitment and sacrifice – of time and attention (from competing demands) and the creativity to have something to say!!!

Now which is the more challenging?

And if the challenge exists for the writer, what level of challenge must exist for the reader? Are there any readers? How would I know? Would it really matter? Is it enough to know that someone might read, that thoughts have been recorded for possible consumption?

Perhaps it is enough to know that I am holding myself accountable and a quasi public record of achievement (or not) is enough of a reason.

Today K is back into the classroom and I know that means time and emotion stolen from our relationship. Perhaps stolen is too strong a word, for it implies a loss beyond control. More like a redirection from one aspect of our world and invested in another. That is how all decisions of priority need to be viewed. We should not be doing anything we do not want to, for if we are not investing in areas according to a priority we influence, then our time, effort, attention and emotion are being stolen from us.

The next question then is the criteria used to determine the priority list, and what happens to those issues that do not make the list? What if we still consider them “needful things” but have no heart in them? Just like the Stephen King novel of the same name, perhaps what we consider needful may not be at all.

Time to spiritualise – obvious connection in all this of temporal versus eternal aspects of all we do on our priority list! If our heart is set and our attitudes shaped by our relationship with God there should be no conflict.

Funny how a fallen world and a sinful nature can remove the logic from a should be!

m<><

Another week older, but no more mature

Another week older, but no more mature

Another week nearly over
Another seven days closer to quitting this earthly realm
Another seven days less to make meaning of my life
Another seven days less to make a difference

But this past seven days did make a difference
Invested in relationships with my Pastors
Poured long purposeful hours into work
Played much backgammon with K and suffered both the consequences of victory and defeat
Reminded of the need to depend less on material surety and more on faith
Enjoyed the pleasure of early mornings, late nights, fulfilled weariness and new music
Experienced the joy and tension of a father’s account of playing the tooth fairy, fearful of discovery
Became jealous that I don’t have a scarf story
Wondered if I would ever get to grow up

Growing up is all relative, or is it dependent on relatives, namely your own children. Perhaps the absence of any younger generation in our house predisposes the mean maturity level to sink lower as no veneer of formality, responsibility or example setting is required.

K reminds me occasionally that I am in need of a reality check, but unless I ever live the restless sleep of responsibility for the next generation I think I can continue to bluff her and abide in my dream world.

I mean, I have been doing it at work for years!

m<><

Rejoice, Rejoice, and again I say Rejoice

Tonight at prayer meeting we crashed through Philipians - the whole book in 30 minutes to be reminded that we are called to rejoice as Christians. A real conviction and challenge to my pessimistic, melancholic, malaise infected heart. The challenge once again is balance – how to maintain a realistic mindset of external circumstance and obligations whilst remaining encouraged by the promises of God.

To be Christ like
To be like minded
To consider oneself no higher than another
To be an example, unspoken before my brother.

Finally felt that we got some traction at work today, starting to get some momentum on issues, instead of drowning under a flood of new concerns.

K made the best choc chip biscuits yesterday – a real power kick this afternoon in the office.

m<><

Emotional motion emits emotive motives

Several events have occurred recently which continue to form ideas and feelings within me which, although seminal at this stage, are an evolutionary advance* on subliminal simmerings.

*(although scientifically speaking evolution through mutation involves the loss of information, not the gaining or further development of it)

Contentment (thanks Janet! - ever ready to pose a question out of the blue) – continually challenged in this area. So much to be thankful for, but still feeling that so much is missing. Needing to put what is currently in place, in its place ie perspective.

I have started my new job, which involves a positional promotion and increased responsibilities. It is nice to have ability and potential recognised, but highlights the need to have your heart in what you are doing. At the moment I feel that work drags me away from the desires of my heart: the challenge of career versus ministry, reconciling the everyday as the Fourth Frontier (ministry in vocation, as opposed to ministry as vocation).

Last night we went and saw Jars of Clay in concert. I had not listened to a lot of their music, but awesome sound and performance. As is usually felt at all big concerts (seeking the applause of man in my own life!), the awe of popularity and ability in this life; and the need to remember that one-day we will all be equally talented, as we are recreated in His image. Encouraged to see young people excited over Christian art form, but wondered how much is entertainment and the need for balance.

As always my darling K balances my melancholy with quiet enthusiasm and constructive support when needed. As she continues the last week of her holidays before 22 Grade 5s rule her life again, I pray that she gains the rest and reserve she will need to see her through the coming 10 weeks.

Crowning achievement this week: the growing pile of firewood in the front yard in preparation for the coming winter ( 7 trailer loads and 5 litres of two stroke). Low 30s this week ahead, but track suits and ugh boots today on the mountain!!

Disappointment: the dog has started digging in the front lawn again.

Solution: cover entire lawn with firewood!

Now you are being ridiculous.

m<><

New Year, New Cheer

New Year, New Cheer

So I am winding up my time away from vocational obligation and making the most of my last 4 days at home before work starts again. Time on the road with family has drawn K and I away from our normal routine and into a surreal world of family survival, fitting in with other people's domestic routines, being fraternally polite for harmony's sake. But now back home normal routine, household running and personal administration must be resumed.

And I am faced with the list of jobs that remain undone and have to be out of the road before work distracts me mentally and physically.

Coming back to my real world, I am returning to the routine of worship and meditation, of centreing spiritually where holiday routine has "uncentred" me.

The gradual realisation that in the New Year there is no New Cheer save for that which has carried my spirit throughout the last - that is the strength that the Lord offers if we would allow him.

Read an old quote in a diary entry last note - God can only do impossible things when he has crushed impossible people - I don't want to be crushed and I try not to be impossible. Praise God for his patience.

Books read this break:

Surgeon of Crawthorn - Simon Winchester
If You Want to Write - Brenda Ueland
Secret Lives - Australian 2003 short story anthology
A Lawyer's Life - Johnny Cochrane

Enough philology - real world beckons

m<><

Finally back home

Finally back home, half day pit stop before driving up the road to my ma and pa's for dad's 60th birthday celebrations. Holidays are tiring - next week is already full of friends and family and then it is back to work for a break!!!

Jealous and Ashamed

A friend of ours has been fighting cancer for several years now. He has cancer through parts of his body and is now in the process of undertaking "last gasp" chemo. His bone marrow tests are clear so there is hope.

Prayers for him this day and onwards.

His situation makes me jealous and Ashamed.

He has an out from this fallen stage, the corrupted coffin of our journey and I sometimes wish it was mine. He may have an opportunity to walk away from this world and into the next, away from the daily hassle of responsibility, uncertainty, the sweat of the brow to till the earth.

Is that unfaithful, ungrateful. It makes me shameful.

But he may not see his children grow.
He may not grow old with his life companion.
He may not reflect on the challenges won and the trials lost.
He may not know the outcome of his age.
He may not see his Saviour return.

Chad,
lead the way
lead with courage
let us be there for you.

m><

By the way Happy New Year, or should that be faithful new year, prophetic fulfillment new year, loving new year, patient new year, thankful for my wife new year.