Just this week I reopened a novel I had been working on back in 2014. I had a good idea/plot and wrote around 10 chapters just setting the story up, but somehow I lost my way with it and as a result it has sat untouched for 10 years.

As I read it again this week I remembered one of the tussles I was having within myself. The story involves some pretty gnarly people who when you offended them, didn’t say ‘oh bother – please leave me alone.’ They spoke like those people would in strong expletives and plenty of them.

I’m probably more settled in myself these days so I’m not likely to get rattled. If anyone disagrees with strong language being used in stories then I presume those same people would not watch movies or TV shows with ‘bad language’? Yeah that’s where we need to be if we are gonna be consistent. Of course that then raises the every shifting question of what actually is ‘bad language’ and when does it become offensive?

I don’t plan on trying to shoot that ever moving target!

But having revisited the issue this week I’m a bit curious as to the change in my own position in the space of 10 years. Actually on reflection I wrote the story with necessary expletives in place, but I just didn’t have the confidence to articulate why it mattered. I think we get rather het up on  minor things in the church and while I’m not advocating for a swear jar in every foyer (hey there’s a fund-raising idea… 😂) I am firmly of the opinion that a story will have no credibility if it’s primary characters do not speak in the language of the vernacular.

How does that feel to you? 

(While the book will carry itself around themes of justice, revenge and grace, it will not be a ‘Christian’ book and I doubt very much you would ever find it in Koorong…)

Its been about 8 weeks now that we have had a puppy in our lives and in many ways it has been like having a toddler around again.They know very little, are completely self focused and the trick is to somehow train them to fit into your way of life rather than having them train you to their preferences.

Easier said than done. And I have done my fair share of reading and Youtubing to try and work out how to create a good dog rather than an out of control crazy mutt. There are plenty of opinions on the best ways to go about things, from the electric collar crew to the ‘just keep giving her treats until she figures it out’ mob. In many ways ‘parenting’ for dogs has largely taken on a similar tone to more recent forms of human parenting – no angry words, no hurting their feelings and definitely no smacking. Yeah right…

As I’ve read and observed about 10 different approaches, the one I like best is ‘Doggy Dan’ as his core idea is that if you want to communicate with a dog then you need to think like a dog. Dare i say this is not rocket science… But in the world of quick fixes, treats or smacks seem to be the most popular go to.

Central to Dan’s philosophy is the idea that the dog needs a ‘loving pack leader’ who takes control and gives order and structure to their lives. But to do that well you need to think like a dog. I won’t go into all of his methods, but in short it’s a framework built on trust, love and then consistent interaction in a way that the dog understands. As an example, if I come home at the end of the day to see a hole dug in my lawn there is no point in me smacking the dog there and then because she won’t understand why I am behaving like that. To her I just seem like an irrational, angry man.

Switch hats with me now to the core of why this blog exists – to reflect on missionary practices in the Western world, particularly Australia. We have to learn to ‘speak dog‘ much better than we do. And by ‘speak dog’ I am meaning we have to get a better handle on how our local people think and then communicate the message of faith in language that they can understand.

Caricatures of faith abound and they emerge from failed ventures at being the people of God in this world. Manning Clark’s autobiography (ironically titled The Quest for Grace) laments the various images that Christians took in his time. He writes of the wowsers, the straighteners, the joy thieves and also the smilers – a reference to his days on a University campus where the resident Christian group just seemed to be overly smily in a creepy kind of way.

In church we have often used both carrot and stick (treat and threat in dog language) to try and win people over. The simple heaven/hell paradigm comes immediately to mind, followed by promises of an insufficiently explained ‘abundant life’. Evangelistic crusades and rallies seem to have finally died an overdue death in the western world. My last memory is of the Impact World Tour that was written up in the local community news as a deceitful attempt at proselytisation. Shame on us for being willing to be part of it and even believing it may have ‘worked’ (whatever that may mean).

Of course we want people to meet Jesus and to be inspired to follow him and live in the way of the kingdom. If we are going to see that become a reality then we have to begin where they are at by speaking their language and understanding their current perception of the world. In recent times I have listened to a few random sermons from different churches around the city and been genuinely disturbed by the use of insider language and the inability to translate the message into language ordinary West Aussies would easily understand. (I have also seen a couple of examples of this done brilliantly which is encouraging – last Sunday at Yanchep Community Church a case in point where Ryan took some large complicated apologetic concepts and was able to translate them in such a way that anyone in the broader community would have been able to understand.

I’m not writing only to those who speak in churches on Sundays, although their voices are often heard the loudest in those settings, but rather to all of us and asking simply that we consider listening carefully to our communities questions, attitudes and fears before diving in with a one size fits all ‘Jesus fix’. When we come across the person at work who gets in our face and tells us that ‘there is no God and the Bible is a book of fairytales’, we could engage in some systematic apologetics to try and demolish their arguments, or we could try and understand why they are making those statements in that way. It involves asking questions and seeking to get a handle on how they arrived at those conclusions. Chances are the issue isn’t simply a disbelief in a higher power, but maybe a childhood hurt or a bit of religious trauma that has formed them. The ‘answer’ is not a smarter argument, but rather some grace, kindness and understanding. Perhaps they may discuss the issue further if they want to once you have proven yourself more than a crusader.

For those who may think that I am weak on evangelism – I would suggest that previously we have been in ‘aggressive’ mode. Knocking on doors and preaching in streets is a tone deaf response to this world we now live in. Sharpening our apologetic skills so we can be in shape for any ‘street-fights’ that come our way is akin to learning martial arts so you can win the fight.

Instead we begin by observing, listening and asking questions. We drop our assumptions and genuinely seek to understand the people around us – who by the way are not from one ‘monoculture’. While they may all be Aussies, they each bring their various histories, political views and personal experiences. I think of the people in my street and as I have got to know them I know that each one will listen in a different way. Each one already has a worldview and as I have got to know them and appreciate their take on the world I have been able to ponder how the Christian story may be best communicated to them. And while it’s slightly different for each of them it starts with relationship, trust and acceptance before they may choose to invite me into their thinking on why we are here etc etc.

As I’ve been reading books on dog training I couldn’t help but notice the one author who really grabbed my heart was the one who sought to enter the dogs world and see it from their perspective. In missional language we’d call this an incarnational approach a choice to enter another world and become a legit part of it, as all good missionaries do.

So if you’re just salivating at the idea of a bit of street preaching this weekend (and who isn’t? 🙂 ) maybe pause for a moment and listen to the people you are hoping to engage with. If you do you might realise that whacking them with a blunt instrument is a fairly futile approach to genuine evangelism.

There’s a line in the movie, Jerry Maguire that always intrigued me. One of his friends says, ‘Jerry’s good at friendship but bad at intimacy’. It seems Jerry can’t seem to get close enough to anyone to bare his soul and have a significant relationship.

Recently I was involved in a prayer ministry thing where the person praying for me asked how I would describe my ‘intimacy with Jesus‘. I’ve heard the phrase plenty of times around the place and never given it much thought… until that moment. I think I assumed some level of intimacy, even if I couldn’t articulate what it looked like, but I definitely wasn’t sure of that.

‘Ummm… I don’t really think ‘intimacy’ is a word I would use in how I relate to Jesus.’ I said feeling a little embarrassed by my answer. (I knew the ‘right answer’ was more along the lines of ‘oh yeah we are close – so tight.’)

But intimacy almost feels like a mis-categorisation to me when it comes to speaking of how I relate to Jesus. Perhaps it’s because I’m more thinker than feeler, but I just can’t see ‘intimate’ as the right word. And it’s not that it has sexual connotations. I don’t feel like I’m constrained by that kind of imagination – it’s more that the word just doesn’t gel for me.

What I can do is honest, authentic and genuine – raw even, which for me are words that equate to a very significant and close relationship. Does that sound like intimacy to you? 

They aren’t cozy, snuggly kinds of words which is more the tone I feel intimate takes. It’s not that I’m opposed to hugs and personal contact (to be fair I’m usually a ‘reciprocal hugger’ unless it’s been a while, or I really like you) but that just isn’t the tone of my relationship to Jesus.

If I imagine a conversation with Jesus it’s usually sitting on the hill down at the beach after work and watching the sun go down on a glassy ocean while we share a drink, a laugh and a check in. That might be a 5 minute convo or it could take an hour depending on what’s going on. Is that intimacy or just friendship?

Interestingly I find that in prayer I relate more consciously to the ‘father’ another word that can be loaded depending on your experience. Somehow ‘Father’ works for me. I can picture a good father who wants the best for his kids – a father who wants to be in on the details of their lives.

Perhaps some would call that intimate. I’d say it is personal – close and unfettered. But again ‘intimate’ just doesn’t gel. When I look for intimacy in the Bible I guess you could say it’s there in the Psalms as David opens his heart to God and that there is a degree of intimacy between Jesus and his crew or is it simple honesty and authenticity? I can identify with both Psalms and Jesus relationships with his disciples, but I just haven’t thought of them as ‘intimate’.

Again words like raw, unfiltered and authentic come to mind to describe how many of the Psalms are and how some of Jesus’ ways of relating are.

So maybe it’s a quibble over words or maybe it’s a blind spot for me. Since that time of prayer ministry I have taken a few weeks to ponder, journal and reflect on the idea of intimacy with Jesus, but I’m not feeling any light bulb moments penetrating the ether. 

All I can come up with is the idea that I can do authenticity well – and I think that fosters a good relationship – but I don’t really know how to go about intimacy.

What about you?

Is intimacy a thing in your relationship with Jesus? If so what shape does it take?

Is it important to relate in this way and if so what does it look and how does it differ from raw, authentic and unfiltered?

After-thought – Maybe intimacy is for the Myers Briggs ‘feelers’ and authenticity is for the ‘thinkers’?…

Maybe you have also pondered this word in relation to Jesus and wondered just what on earth it means. If you have some answers then let me in on them.

A few months back when the Olympics was on TV I had a sudden urge to pick up a basketball again and just shoot around. Nothing serious – just wanted to feel the ball in my hands again and enjoy the sweet sound of it swishing thru the net.

So I went to Rebel Sport and bought a ball – then went to our local park and had some fun just playing around. Along the way I also realised just how much capacity had been lost. My last semi-serious tilt at basketball was in our Lesmurdie days, I was 38 and playing veterans. I was one of the youngest and it was so easy to step around, or shoot over a guy who looked at least 50 (which seemed quite old back then.)

Following on from my solo fun I wondered if I might be able to find half a dozen locals who’d be up for a game of 3 on 3 or similar. So I booked the local rec centre, started a Facebook group and from night 1 we have had 20-30 people showing up. I didn’t expect a crowd like that, but it has been a lot of fun! Most of those present are either high school kids or in their 20’s with one or two exceptions and now I’m that guy who is getting stepped around, rebounded over and shot over.

It’s the simple reality of being 60 years old. The body cannot behave in the same way as it did when I was 21 or even 31. These days I’m happy if I make it through the hour without damaging myself in the process, but I also have to accept that the younger guys are way better players than I am. Even the ones who aren’t that good are better than me… And now I’m that guy, that if we picked teams old school style, would be picked last as the liability.

Imagine I told you I was going to take on one of these guys 1:1. You’d immediately know it wasn’t a fair match up. The physical capacity of a 60 year old body – even one in good shape – is far less than that of a healthy 20 something.

And yet Mike Tyson wants to fight Jake Paul…

Yeah the point of my post is not to lament aging. Not at all. It happens and our challenge is to be the best version of ourselves at whatever age we find ourselves. So this idea that Tyson can challenge Paul just seems like nothing more than a media stunt, or a way for Tyson to collect on some $$.

For some reason my algorithm keeps shooting me the latest news on this fight, but all I can think of is ‘why?’ And who actually thinks this is a good idea?

Tyson was one of the most feared heavyweight boxers of all time – but at 58 – even with a significant amount of training it’s hard to imagine him being any match for a 27 year old man in the prime of his life. If it’s not just about money, I wonder what is driving Tyson – is it a refusal to accept the limitations of aging? Is it a genuine self belief that he can win?

We don’t do well at accepting the physical constraints that go with aging, and most Tuesday nights I end up a little frustrated that the shots I used to make now rim out and the moves I once used to slip past defenders are now blocked at every turn.

I’m getting better at accepting my limitations, but I know I have also been infected with that ‘anti aging’ virus that keeps telling me I should expect more… Reality is I’m 60 and I bring some good stuff to this world. High level basketball just isn’t it…

So this whole Tyson / Paul schmozzle just has me shaking my head… Mike – maybe it’s time to accept reality. Jake – why not just walk away… There is no honour in laying out a 58 year old!

Lately I’ve been observing what I’ve come to call the phenomena of ‘brittle faith’. It’s kinda like a China vase, it appears beautiful and well put together but when it takes a heavy blow it shatters in a million pieces – rarely – if ever to be reconstructed.

It’s what we see in people ditching faith when it doesn’t work out as they thought it would, or when questions arise that do not get resolved easily within their theological paradigm. Typically we see this in the more ‘fundamentalist’ folks of both evangelical and pentecostal origin – those for whom a very neat and tidy theological paradigm must order their world – those who have an answer for every objection – those who seem almost afraid at times of being wrong. I’ve come across people in the creation science movement who will dismiss as illegitimate, the faith of someone who does not adhere to a literal 6 day creation. They have managed to link creation and gospel message in such a way that rejection of their creation narrative means an inability to ever find faith in Jesus. Now that’s a hard line!

And it’s also a paradigm just waiting to be smashed into a million pieces. What happens when you come across other Christians living faithful lives, but who do not share your view? I remember growing up in a cessationist environment, where it was crystal clear that God did not work in ‘those ways’ today and those who pursued speaking in tongues and other more miraculous gifts had their faith questioned and maligned. I remember shifting from that position early in the piece as I came across many, many good people who spoke in tongues and didn’t seem to be that different to me.

As a natural questioner and thinker I was intrigued by ‘why’ we held the views we did and I was naturally curious about why other people saw the world differently. I rejected the demonising of other denominations and the various ‘moves of God’, like the Toronto Blessing. I knew pretty early that my tribe were very critical of the Toronto blessing and all of the ‘nonsense’ that went with it. (God was a God of ‘order’ – and all things incredibly boring.) But the tone of those around me was definitely more fear driven than anything else.

I went to Bible College in 1990 for one year. It wasn’t a highly academic college and as a result we were fed a fairly predictable conservative evangelical theological line. We were taught ‘what’ to think. It never inspired me – in fact it bored me – because I knew the familiar paradigm and I had lived there all my life. I wanted to explore other frameworks and understand how other people read the Bible and understood the world. About 4 years later I signed up at the Baptist Theological College to do a Bachelor of Divinity. For some BTC was a controversial institution because a) they wouldn’t fully endorse the idea of biblical inerrancy. Our denomination had a big bun fight over this topic – as you do… b) They had aligned with Murdoch university so that the final degree was conferred by this institution rather than BTC itself (now Morling College). Again many were afraid that the more liberal theological perspectives of the Murdoch lecturers would corrupt and confuse the minds of good Christian men and women. There was genuine angst that people would possibly go rogue (liberal) and or lose their faith by this alliance with Murdoch.

That kind of fear only comes from those with a brittle worldview, a paradigm that relies on ticking all of the boxes for your faith to be valid. I watched one or two of my classmates lose their way in faith over their time at Murdoch, but I sensed that what happened was simply a speeding up of the inevitable.

When I come across brittle faith – narrow, sharp and locked up so tight it can never be tampered with – I fear for the person holding that faith – because I know sooner or later something has to give… and when it does it can then unravel completely and leave the person utterly lost and also very angry.

We fertilise brittle faith with statements of absolute certainty about issues on which there is often differing perspectives. When we deny people the space to consider a different way of being in relationship to God then we are seeking to control and lock them into one tight theological framework. It was my time at BTC/Murdoch, then Vose and now Morling that gave me the tools and the permission to critique my own long held faith convictions. And this was further fanned into flame by the emergence of the ’emerging church’, a movement that took many iterations and varied greatly from country to country. One dimension of the Emerging Church I valued was the space to connect with a group of people who were questioning everything, but with the hope of finding better ways of living our faith in this world.

Before my son Sam died, I loved that we could have rigorous conversations around what really mattered to God and even who God was. Even at 21, he was doing some deconstructing of the faith we had handed on to him, but I didn’t fear him losing his way because he knew he had freedom to explore and I trusted that he was seeking to follow Jesus in it all. Moreso I was looking forward to hearing and engaging with his own take on how discipleship could form up in this time.

How do you know if your faith is rugged or brittle?

A few giveaways:

• you have a list of core beliefs that go well beyond the regular orthodox creeds. eg you must hold a pre-millenial view of the second coming.
• you often criticise others inability to see the world as clearly as you do and you do it with a certain degree of pride.
• you fear being exposed to what you call ‘liberal ideas’, (perhaps in case they make better sense than the ideas you currently subscribe to)
• you are sometimes militant in your way of seeing the world.

I’m sure there are other ‘tells’ that I have missed, but I write this to simply encourage you to think and explore beyond your familiar theological understandings. Allow your views to be challenged and even exposed as wrong… But in the process build a faith that centres on Jesus and the things that mattered to him, rather than constructing a theological masterpiece that could never be tampered with. Because sooner or later someone or something will take a hammer to your certainty and splinter your ideas all over the place.

Then what?…