Despite swearing off any more midflight flights to anywhere (ever), somehow I found myself yet again on a Jetstar flight bound for Coolangatta a little over a week ago. Its the only flight that operates direct from Perth and all Brisbane flights were taken (using FF points) so it was another ‘red-eye special’ for the Hamo family mid year holiday on the East Coast, where we were hoping for great weather, surfing and some fun family times.

It left an hour late – around 1 am on Monday morning – and that after a fairly intense work day on Sunday. We landed in Coolangatta around 7.30am having been packed in like sardines and with virtually no sleep.

I picked up the hire car, loaded bags and surfboards on and we headed for the Coolangatta beach cafe strip to get some brekkie, as our motel wasn’t gonna be ready for us until around 1pm. The massive swell that hit the Gold Coast the week before was just easing and at 8.00am Snapper Rocks was packed with well over 100 people in the water and there were very few unridden waves – not that either Sam or I felt up for hitting the water right then.

After a longish afternoon nap we snuck out for some dinner, before heading home to call it a day and sleep well yet again. While driving to get dinner we spotted a mate from 30 years back picking up a pizza at Dominos. What are the chances? We circled the block and Danelle hopped out – ‘Dazza?’ And it was… so we scheduled a coffee for the following day to catch up.

We had 3 magic days in Queensland where the sun shone and the weather was perfect. On the down side, the day before leaving Perth my lower back had erupted in some serious spasms and the plane ride over hadn’t helped. I was hobbling around like an old man but aching to get in the water. We were staying 100m from Burleigh and the surf was looking fantastic. I waited till the third day and it hadn’t really healed but I was frustrated so I just paddled out… Yeah it went well…

On the up side we caught up with 3 sets of friends while on the Gold Coast and that was wonderful. Two sets of friends who we have known since we got married and then another who had recently moved from Quinns in search of more work opportunities.

We headed off on Thursday morning to check out Byron Bay and the surrounding area. Before leaving it was decided (not by me) that we should go shopping at Pacific Fair – one of the biggest temples I have ever seen – where we paid homage to the God of consumerism for around 90 minutes. I spent about 80 of that 90 reading a book. I just don’t get shopping if I don’t need anything…

As we we were leaving I was packing the car and while trying to get all the suitcases in I pushed down hard on the hatchback lid. It closed – but… there were now two large impressions left in the tailgate where my hands had been. Bugger… Thankfully for the first time ever I took out insurance to cover the excess on our rental agreement so it shouldn’t cost anything. But the new rule is ‘if it won’t close easily then don’t force it’. Nissan X Trail crumple zones now extend to the rear tailgate – beware.

Nothing says ‘Byron Bay’ like a 30 year old dude with waist length dreadies, and bare feet in flared brown cords and an unbuttoned shirt with a medallion swinging between the pecs and funky sunnies crossing the road towards you. Byron is hipster heaven and I really couldn’t get out of there fast enough. We were staying down the road in Suffolk park. I had booked the motel on Booking.com – at least I thought I had… Apparently I had booked it for August, but they kindly let us change the booking, so we checked in and went surf exploring. Broken Head had a beachie that was looking ok, so me and Sam paddled out. Again the back proved problematic so after an hour or so I called it a day.

From Byron it was down to Iluka – yeah a suburb of Perth – but also a town in Northern NSW. We drove on thru to Maclean, a nice little town on the Clarence River for lunch before heading out to Yamba and Angourie. I wanted to check out Angourie as it is classified as a ‘Surf Reserve’. The swell wasn’t grunty enough to make the point break, but the beaches were stunning – offshore breezes and blue skies were more temptation than we could resist so Sam and I hit the water in boardies while Ellie had a swim too. So far the weather has been stunning and it feels more like autumn than winter.

We backtracked 40kms to Iluka and slept the night before it was on to Coffs Harbour where we booked a motel right on the Park Beach front strip. Last time we were there we had seen some great waves pumping thru so we pulled in hopeful. My back had now got worse and I was struggling to move, but typically its a bit of exercise that seems to set it back on track so I was willing to risk it.

We love the Coffs beaches and even though the motel (which became known as the ‘brown room’, because everything in it was a shade of brown) was well below par we enjoyed the time there. On the first evening Sam snuck in a sunset surf just as the new swell was rising and then on the second morning he scored some magic waves head high beachies at Park Beach. I hobbled out of bed and could hardly move. At 11.00am I managed to get across the road to check the surf and it looked so good I hobbled back, pulled on the wetsuit and paddled out. My hopes of exercising the pain away continued to be futile. I could paddle ok, but as soon as I had to snap to my feet the pain knifed in and I would fall. It was nice to be in the water, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was getting pretty frustrated. Two years ago we cruised up this coast without surfboards and said ‘if we ever come back – it is with the boards!’ And here we are – all kitted out – with perfect weather and waves but too sore to surf.

From Coffs we came down further and had lunch at Crescent Head. Again we had hoped to crack the boards out and surf this Aussie icon, but the swell was from the south and barely hitting it. We drove on to Port Maquarie – possibly one of the prettiest cities in Oz, where we are now for two nights. And the skies are still blue and the waves are still looking perfect…

I finally went to see the physio in Maquarie and he did some work on me which seems to have had some effect, but I get the sense I best stay out of the water for the next week as I have a few days of work lined up when I get home and I need to earn some $$ to pay for all of this. From here its on to Newcastle to stay with family – another surf mecca – that will have me watching on ruefully, but hopefully Sam will have fun.

On the up side the Maquarie Bowling Club have a nightly buffet so we are heading there for a feed this evening. Sam is planning his strategy for eating them out of everything that is there. I’m not hungry as I haven’t done much all day.

Its hard to believe we have been experiencing winter as we haven’t seen a cloud let alone rain and its only since reaching Maquarie that we have pulled on the long pants.

If you want a great family holiday then a cruise down the NSW coast has gotta be up there with the best. We still managed to bypass a heap of spots we would love to have stopped in at, so maybe this one will make the agenda for Long Service Leave in 2021. Despite the ongoing pain, it has been great to get away with the family and explore a part of Australia that we love together. I’m not sure how much longer we will have family holidays like this (I am hunching as long as we are paying…) so we are making the most of the fun we have together.

It’s nice to discover a new Australian author with the capacity to keep my attention for longer than 30 minutes! Mark Brandi has two books in circulation now, Wimmera and The Rip. Both are quite dark and explore the seamier side of our culture.

I read them I reverse order (Wimmera was published first), but I don’t think that matters.

The Rip was an easy read and followed the life of street people Dani & her dog Sunny as well as Anton & Steve.

The book meanders along following the drug motivated exploits of this small group. Dani & Anton move in with Steve temporarily- it’s better than the spot they had under the grandstand at Princes Park…

Brandi captures hopelessness well and the lot of the homeless person comes to life in his writing. It’s a grim book in many ways, but it rings true and is worth the read.

Entitled ‘The Rip’, this is the metaphor used to describe the descent into drug addiction. One minute you’re having fun, the next you are out of your depth and it is controlling you.

His first book Wimmera is a cracker too. It is set in small town Australia and follows the lives of two young boys as they grow up, mature and find their way in life.

It is subtle in its storyline so I had to go back and read it again after I’d almost finished, as I realised I had missed some key clues, but there in lies some of the rub. We miss ‘clues’ to grooming and abuse all the time and we may not know what’s going on until it’s happened.

Both the boys are very believable and the predator is equally plausible. But be warned this is also a very dark story – one that looks at the issue of abuse (in many forms) and why it goes unspoken about, but the huge toll it takes on the people who are its victims.

I like Brandi because he has managed to tell a story very simply, but with some real punch. If you’re looking for a new read then you could do worse than this Aussie talent.

Dada Figuerido was the Brazilian equivalent of Kelly Slater back in the 70s and 80’s, but the first I heard of him was when I stumbled on an obscure Netflix doco about his life.

‘Radical’ tells the story of the boy who came from the back streets of São Paulo to the beaches of Rio where he discovered he was a naturally gifted surfer – in fact he was head and shoulders above anyone else in pure giftedness.

Grainy footage of his teen years, random interviews with his old mates (none of whom I knew) and the subtitles meant I almost gave up on the show several times. But he was a quirky character – rebelling consistently against all societal mores, establishing his own fashion label (‘anti-fashion’) which ironically took off and became somewhat self defeating, pushing into the punk and anarchic scene and then into drugs, crime and violence.

The story is told of him turning up at the awards night of a surfing contest to receive his trophy only to call everyone (including the corporate sponsors) f**king parasites for feeding off surfing and making money out of it, before peeing on the table. He was rude, obnoxious and consistently sought to push in the opposite direction of what was considered acceptable.

I persisted with the story – but as his life descended into a spiral of depravity and drug dependence I started to wonder ‘what am I doing watching this B grade doco about a surfer I have never heard of?’ Seriously- what value is there in watching this terrible story of a life gone wrong? His story hit a new low when he narrowly survived a stabbing over a petty crime.

It was dark stuff.

Then Jesus.

Bam!

Dada found Jesus and his life turned around entirely – he became a new person and gave up the drugs, alcohol, violence and every other vice he held.

If the story is true – and it seems it was -then the change was almost instantaneous – and humungous!

As it’s told in the doco, we hear that ‘Dada found religion’, but anyone whose been ‘religious’ knows that religion doesn’t change anyone for the better and it certainly doesn’t transform them so completely and so quickly.

His wife was happy because now he was someone she could live with and as a result she found faith too. His friends were actually quite patronising, suggesting that perhaps people of weaker character needed the help religion offered.

As for Dada – he was a new man and (as far as I can tell) his life has been on a Jesus trajectory ever since.

Religion won’t save anyone – but a ‘saviour’ will if you will let him. I’m guessing desperation pushed Dada to that place. But the beauty is that in the desperation there was hope.

I tell the story because as I listened to his bio on Netflix I was shocked – stunned that someone like him found faith and was so radically transformed. I just needed to be reminded again that this is what the gospel is capable of – for those both desperate enough to need it and humble enough to receive it.

There is a 10 year old testimony of his on this Christian surfers site, which fills in some of the details. It’s in Portuguese and translates badly into English:)

Recently I have been trying to live without social media to see how it impacts my life.

It’s been a vexed decision to pull the pin on FB and Insta. I find enjoyment in both, I find value in both, but the time they consume is equivalent to a part time job and the effect they have on my thinking processes is certainly significant.

It’s been two weeks since deactivating FB and Insta so time for some reflection on the good and the bad…

I really miss the instant sharing of something fun, quirky or inspiring. Now my means of ‘sharing’ is this blog and a post requires me to say more than a sharp sentence. It requires context and development of thought. It’s a whole different medium. I like blogging – and it has moved me back into a ‘writing ‘ headspace rather than a ‘sharing’ space – although ironically I am sure virtually everyone who reads my blog finds it via FB – so the last two weeks of thoughts have probably gone unread…

Often throughout the day I have found myself wanting to post a quick thought or share an idea and the absence of FB makes that much trickier if not impossible. I don’t want to write a blog post just to share a quote.

When I am having a great time and feeling compelled to ‘share’ I ponder ‘am I better off just living in the moment and not telling the world? To what extent am I sharing joy and to what extent am I simply bragging about my ‘very cool life’? It’s been good to ponder this. I don’t have an answer yet.

I do miss the instant interaction with the world – the fact that I can share a thought with friends everywhere and get a response. I have used FB for sorting out my Solar Power installation recommendations. I have used FB to garner sermon fodder from a diverse range of people. And so it goes on. The interaction is often fun and the banter is enjoyable.

I take less photos when I’m not on social media. I think that’s a neutral outcome. I have taken some photos while on holidays but I tended to use FB as a ‘life journal’ – a record of what I have been doing for the last 11 years and now I don’t have those memories stored anywhere in particular.

Of course the quiet moments have been quieter. While the rest of the family is on social media I am doing something else – reading a book – reading my blog feed. I also find when I have 10 minutes to kill I still look to my phone, but the reading material is different.

I have kept all of my business and church accounts active as I am one of the admins on them. I can’t escape that. It’s a different headspace though – posting as needed and for a specific purpose rather than just a spewing forth of life’s trivia.

Perhaps in that is both the value and the inaneness of the social media form. You can know what I am having dinner, how I stubbed my toe, that I had a boring day at work and so on. You can actually know me and have some real insight into my life and thoughts from my online profile – and I think is a pretty accurate depiction of who I am – and I can know you – or at least as much as you let me know.

So two weeks into going cold turkey on social media and I’m still debating the value of pulling the pin on it.

I have found myself reading a little more, I have felt thoughts for blog posts percolating more often and I have probably been more ‘present’ when I am with the family.

I may yet return to the ‘dark side’, but perhaps on different terms. I had deleted 250 ‘friends’ prior to my shutdown but I’m not sure if I want to do a clean sweep of everyone and then start over or whether I just need to consider how I want this medium to work for me.

Anyway – I’m sharing these thoughts conscious that may not get read by anyone, but that’s just how it is when you shift gears!

I’ve spent a lot of time reading the major prophets lately and this morning was Ezekiel 22 – a pretty heavy chapter in many ways describing Israel and Judah by the vivid imagery of two prostitute sisters.

The language is graphic and the content X rated. But the analogy it is making seems timeless.

I was somehow under the impression that the pre-exile period was possibly the darkest time in the history of God’s people, but the more I have read and reflected the more it seems to mirror much of our own behaviour as the church today.

Are we really that much better at listening to and following Jesus than they were at following Yahweh? I’m not sure we are.

If idolatry, injustice and rejection of the sabbath were core to their rebellion then it’s hard to see ourselves as virtuous – certainly no more virtuous than those Hebrew people were.

I have beaten the drum about this before so I won’t labour it, but while we may not have Baal & the like today, our idols are the holy trinity of career, family and home ownership and interestingly they are all intertwined, but also in tension.

The curse of ‘aspirational living’ is so foundational to the western worldview that we don’t even realise we are worshiping at the altar of these 3. But ask any parent what they hope for their children and after ‘happiness’, (an interesting desire also) it will be career success, a happy family and to own their own home.

I don’t think Jesus is opposed to any of these per se, but if he were asked the same question I seriously doubt he would answer the same way. I imagine he would come back with a question – something like; ‘what would the kingdom of God look like if it were to take shape in your children’s lives?’

We may not sacrifice our children to Molech, but we so easily give them over to the Gods of our own culture in the hope that they will be ‘blessed with success and affluence’.

If these are our idols then our injustice surely shows up in believing we are doing it tough while having one of the highest standard of living in the world. And because we feel we are poor we lack generosity – or if we give it’s a token rather than a sacrifice. As a nation our commitment to overseas aid is laughable but of course it reflects our national psyche – to ‘look after our own’ first. And as for the reffos… well they can stay locked up until they are willing to go home. Justice ain’t our strong suit.

Then of course the idea of sabbath keeping (in principle) cannot be taken seriously while aspirational living rules the imagination.

Exile was the circuit breaker for the Hebrew people – a period of devastation where they were forced to recalibrate their identity in light of their new situation. They had to re examine their calling as a people and then consider realigning themselves with Yahweh and his plans.

I’ve heard it said that if God doesn’t do something about the immorality of the western world then he owes Sodom and Gomorrah an apology. In the vein of that sentiment I get the sense that we must be pushing the boundaries of his tolerance as a church awash with idolatry, injustice and compulsive busyness.

But we are the frogs in the hot water not realising that one day it will boil.

Analogies aside (as they are limited in their application) the human condition just doesn’t seem to change.

Whatever sophistication we may have as a society does not make us wiser and better at avoiding perennial stumbling blocks.

We are just blind to our own compromises and give ourselves a free pass on the the stuff that Jesus would consider beyond the pale.

And to make it worse, the system in which we live almost makes it impossible to live differently. I have spoken to many friends about working part time to create space in life, but that is easier said than done for most.

But there must be those who live differently and who call out in others the counter cultural spirit that is the at the heart of the gospel and the Kingdom of God.

It started with a chiro appointment in Two Rocks. I saw the chiro and then on the way home I saw the sign – GARAGE SALE – and I’m a bit of a sucker for a Two Rocks garage sale, because often there is stuff in those old houses that has been locked away for years that people just want rid of and you can pick up some real gems for next to nothing.

The garage sale was ok, but as I drove down the street I saw another ‘car boot’ sale – it was actually just one man with a trailer on a piece of land he had sold, but that was previously used to store his landscaping gear.

On his trailer sat 4 large tubs of irrigation equipment. It was aged and looked like it had been there for a while. I knew who he was – a local competitor who was over 70 now and clearly no longer concerned for keeping everything neat and in order. Surely there would be something of value in there…

‘How much?’ I asked

‘$20/crate’ he said or ‘$40’ if you take all 4.

I could see there was $40 worth of gear just sitting on the surface so I figured it was worth the gamble. I found the $40 in my centre console – 20 x $2 coins – and then loaded the 4 crates into my car and went home to see if there was anything else worth keeping in the piles of gear.

After sorting the first one I counted around $400 worth of parts and two hours later after sifting thru all that was there I had near enough $2K worth of gear. I guess I won’t be buying retic gear for a while.

So next time someone tells you a garage sale is just a way to play ‘musical junk’, remind them that occasionally there is treasure to be found!

The sabbath is kind of a big deal to God.

At least so it seems if you read Ezekiel and Jeremiah. Part of the reason the Hebrew people got bumped into exile was their failure to take the sabbath seriously. Yes – there was injustice and idolatry and they seem like the real biggies, but this morning as I was reading Ezekiel 20 I couldn’t help but notice the significance of the sabbath as a source of rebellion against God.

Of course we are no longer ‘under the law’ so Sabbath no longer matters to us… kind of… For every ‘temporary’ law it seems there is a timeless principle that we do well to observe and use as a guide to life.

In this case the Sabbath is about 3 things (possibly more) – rest, worship and trust.

God commanded the sabbath both for people and the land so that they could all rest and recover. Rest is good and necessary. It is ok to rest…

God commanded a sabbath as a day of worship – of recognising who he is and what he has done. He felt we needed at least one day a week to refocus and get our bearings again. To realign our lives with him.

And because God commanded a sabbath in practicing it we learn to trust – that he will provide – that if we don’t work that extra day we will still have enough. The classic example is of the Hebrew people in the wilderness who were told to collect just enough for each day and then on the eve of the sabbath to get enough for two days.

Its all very 700 BC, and yet at the same time its also all very 21st C AD. For the record I don’t believe we need to keep a literal sabbath. (SDA friends can argue with me now…) But I do believe there is a timeless principle in there that we can observe and benefit from.

It seems that we are now working longer hours than ever and we are more enabled to do so by virtue of technology. We can work from home, work in the car, work kinda anywhere. Finding time for work isn’t difficult – but finding time to stop is much harder.

I’m convinced we need to know ‘how to sabbath’ and I believe its more a way of life than a specific day or format. I used to practice a solid day of no work whatsoever, but more recently I have tried to live at a pace that is sustainable with regular breaks built in rather than just one solid day. I find this works pretty well.

I do have a practice of not taking calls on a Sunday for anything business related and I have been able to keep to that reasonably well. There are the odd occasion when you just need to help someone out – and therein is the ‘principle’ rather than a hard law.

A sustainable pace of life definitely facilitates worship moreso than a busy life. I’m not that good at sitting with God and listening – meditating and all that stuff – I’m better at cracking on and getting stuff done. But I know I need the stillness stuff to enable me to connect with him and to tune in. I’ve actually gone ‘analogue’ more recently with a paper Bible and pen and paper journal. Something about the digital experience just wasn’t working for me. Possibly the distraction factor – but possibly that I associate my tablet with work and entertainment so picking up my 30 year old NIV is more of an effort and also more intentional.

And then there’s the trust factor. This was hard for me initially when I was building a business. Any time the phone would ring I would feel anxiety over not returning the call immediately. I have worked out that in retic you usually have 2-4 hrs to get back in touch before someone else gets the job. So when the phone rings on a Sunday it’s almost certain I am going to miss out. But that’s where the trust factor kicks in and I have to believe that if there is a good God – who sees me – cares for me – and knows what I need then he is able to provide for my needs in one way or another.

Rest – worship – trust – all part of a Godly life and yet all deemed ‘desirable but not essential’ in our culture. Part of discipleship in this current world is to teach people these things again – to rest – because God rested and he calls us to ‘rest’ in every sense. Then to worship – to see someone as greater than ourselves and worthy of our heart’s affection. A self obsessed world doesn’t do this easily. And then to trust – to believe that if I rest all will still be ok… God has my life under control.

It’s pretty simple – but simple is always different to easy.

In a world of massive mortgages more working hours = more $$ and more chance of ‘getting ahead’ (at least until we upsize to a bigger mortgage yet again.) And as such rest is optional – nice if you can manage it – but often considered time wasted – time that could be spent earning. When life is lived in that vein its not hard to see what is being worshiped – and it isn’t Jesus… Our devotion to wealth and pleasure usually far outweighs our devotion to Jesus. And when we find ourselves ‘getting ahead’, its hard not to believe that we actually ‘pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps – nice work me!’

I could go on, but you get the idea.

Want to follow Jesus and live a counter cultural life? Then work hard, but then rest – worship – trust – repeat. Simple really – but simple is different to easy.

I reckon if you just do those 3 three things you will be well ahead of the curve.

After 8 years in the Yanchep place its time to fix up that ugly bathroom – the one we have grimaced at for years, thinking one day we will get around to it… But then never did. It’s easy when you don’t use it. The kids and guests see it, but I rarely set foot in there – except to fix leaky taps and the like.

But after several winters (my slow time) of saying ‘we must do it’, we committed to making this winter the time when ‘we’ – yeah Danelle and I – would rip the old stuff out and re-do it.

Then we looked closer – and we looked at the time we had available… (I have plenty but now she is working flat out) and we decided to get John in – because what will take us 6 weeks and end up ‘not bad for beginners’ will take John 4 or 5 days and will look schmick. And the beauty of it is that when we head over east in two days time he will have the house to himself and he can bang, crash and demolish to his heart’s content followed by re-newing and restoring.

As I write he is in there ripping the old tiles and gyprock off the wall to see what lies behind – moisture? Mould? White ants?… We wanted to be here for this part – to see what actually is behind our walls and whether we have any cause to worry. (Good news… its all fine…)

The fact is though – if you’re going to ‘re-build’ it involves some destruction – some smashing things up before you can actually create beauty again. Someone asked me recently what I thought of my days with Forge – a time of fairly brutal de-construction and at times demolition.

I remember when we first started Forge and there was no such thing as a ‘missional church’, and the idea took some time to get traction, but once it did… seriously – try and find a church or denomination anywhere that hasn’t now got the word ‘missional’ (if not the practice) somewhere in its core documents. It doesn’t actually mean they are practicing ‘missional’ stuff but they have at least learnt the language.

That said, it took some ripping down to rebuild – some smashing apart of church as we knew it before we were in a place to rebuild without the old ideas in place and limiting our path. For some that was more brutal than others. Our own journey took us to a fairly ‘extreme’ place as we created Upstream and moved 5 families into a suburb together to be a missionary community – to start again from the ground up with mission as our guiding principle. In the process of doing that we forced ourselves into a place of having to genuinely grapple with the questions of missiology and ecclesiology we had previously taken for granted. One simple decision – to not meet on a Sunday for at least two years – was itself a significant circuit breaker for those who were in a lifetime of routine.

When I look back on Upstream it is always with a sense of failure – because we didn’t achieve what we set out to achieve (success would be actually achieving what you set your sights on), but along the way there was the accidental / unintended achievement of permanently re-wiring my own mind in such a way that I could never again just think ‘church’.

When we left Upstream in 2009 to go and lead Quinns Baptist our team had shrunk to just 2 or 3 families and we were running out of puff. The decision to join Quinns was made with the idea that as we led these guys we would take them on a missional trajectory – we weren’t up for just ‘running church’. But two years of in-fighting and silliness wore us down. We ended up just ‘running church’ to survive. It was a dark time but we didn’t sense we had ‘permission’ to leave or we would have been out of there in a flash. So we hung around and ran church and just did what we could to try and make the ship seaworthy again.

In that time we were not intentionally missional – but we were ‘missional’ because the ideas and practices had so deeply embedded in our own psyche that we couldn’t be anything other. We moved to Yanchep in 2011 to enter a new stage of life in a place we hoped would be refreshing and renewing – it has been all that and more. Again we didn’t come here intending to be missionaries – but I don’t think we know any other way to live now.

I remember seeing the video of the guy with the ‘unridable bike’. He reversed the handlebars so that to turn right you actually had to make what would normally be a left turn. It’s impossible to do – at least not without many many hours of practice. But once you learn to ride a bike ‘in reverse’ it’s then equally impossible to go back. (Watch the video – you’ll get the idea.)

I am no longer connected with Forge or the ‘missional’ movement in any significant way. I no longer read ‘missional’ books – it would be like reading books on how to drive a car. There’s no animosity there and no ill will. It was one of the most significant and formative times of my life – but it has done its job. I am riding the bike differently now – and I doubt I will ever venture back.

In the midst of our time with Forge my mate Stuart told me that he felt Forge was a ‘prophetic’ movement – in much the same way as the Vineyard was (his own tribe). The Vineyard ‘called us back’ to core ideas like worship, the kingdom of God and the place of the poor (how did we veer from that stuff anyway?…) and once churches had embraced this stuff the Vineyard started to look like everybody else – or – everybody else caught up and adjusted their own priorities to accomodate some apparently ‘new’ concepts.

As a prophetic movement Forge called the church to refocus on mission as central to the heart of God and it framed up various practices and core ideas that would identify us as being on that journey. I ‘swallowed the red pill’ and never looked back. And I’m so grateful to those who did the initial demolition and ground clearing to make it possible. Now we have many people claiming to be ‘missional’, but honestly… I’m not sure that reading the books and speaking the language is the same thing as actually doing it.

Unless you get on the bike and try to ride it differently all you are doing is giving the ‘old bike’ a new coat of paint – or ‘putting lipstick on a pig’ as we delicately called it some years back. If you want to be ‘missional’, then the first step is identifying that you’re not – and realising why you’re not. Then there’s the will to change – unless there is a will to change (and a community to do it with) then you will not do it. Some people will make it on their own – but not many.

But if you’re going to make a significant change then chances are you will have to peel back the layers that are there and then check out what is holding it all together. It will involve some demolition – whether that’s gentle or more aggressive is up to you… But there is no changing without shedding the old. It’s just how life works.