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.
As you can imagine there are no real up-sides to having both a son and a brother die within a few months of each other. There is no ‘bright-side’ to look on. But that doesn’t mean good can’t come from tragedy. Perhaps it’s just my annoyingly optimistic nature, but this week we were talking and I was reflecting on what I can see as some positive outcomes of this whole terrible situation. To be clear these aren’t ‘reasons Sam & Steve died’, or me saying I’m glad it happened. Far from it – but if life has to suck then let’s at least take what sucks and try and learn something or do something good with it.
There’s that verse in Romans 8:28 that says; ‘
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
That’s very different from saying God makes all things happen and ultimately works them for good. I see it as letting us know that even in the darkest place God is able to work for good. If you read this verse in the Living Bible it would appear to say something very different:
And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.
It seems there is some division over how to interpret this verse. With my (now scant) knowledge of ancient Greek I went back to read the verse in it’s original language and in its context and it would seem fair to draw either conclusion based on the language alone. But.,.. it seems abhorrent to me to suggest that God is in the business of manufacturing all sorts of terrible events because ultimately they are part of a bigger plan.
Fact is we never reach conclusion simply on the words. We bring our assumptions and presuppositions to the table. I recognise that I bring the presupposition that God is good – partly based on my experience but mostly based on the description of him throughout scripture. Others seem to bring their assumption of God’s sovereignty being over every detail of life and hence they arrive at the other conclusion.
I understand some people smarter than me sit ok with the ‘sovereignty’ view but it just doesn’t sound like a good God to me.
I can accept that in all things God works for good, but not that he is engineering all things. So with that (much longer than I expected) backdrop here are some things I sense God is working for good in my own life over the last 7 months.
I am aware of & feel for others in pain much more than I ever did before. In fact I sense that if you look closely (and you want to see) everyone is carrying something. We carry a lost son & brother, but others live with a failed marriage, a severely disabled child, a legacy of abuse… and so it goes on. There are very few people who go thru this life unscathed, but I am not naturally drawn to delve into this more pained side of a person. Nowadays I’m much more willing to recognise, ask genuine questions and then take the time to listen. I’d say my capacity for empathy has at least doubled. (And no snide jokes about 2/10 being better than 1/10 please)
I have been forced to grapple with key ideas about who God is and what he is like. What is often abstract or theoretical theology is now being activated in ways I never anticipated. The encouraging thing is that it seems some of the things I spouted in the absence of significant pain, still hold true in the midst of it. In some ways I’m surprised at how my theological understanding and experience has withstood this assault and then in other ways I’m just grateful that the ideas and beliefs I have literally bet my life on have come to the fore when needed.
I have learnt to no longer speak so confidently of the future and my plans. I know more truly that life is fragile and delicate. I have made it to 60 and I’m grateful for that. Previously I had pegged 80 as an age where I may need to ‘ slow down a little’ but that is based on the rather audacious assumption that I will live that long. I feel like I have become much more conscious of my own mortality and the sheer randomness of life. When I hear people say ‘when I retire…’ I find myself saying you might want to reframe that to ‘if I live long enough to retire’. Yeah – it’s a bit of conversation-killer but it’s also reality. I already held the future somewhat tentatively – but this years two deaths have just been a reminder again of the fact that tomorrow is not a guarantee. And that note I keep on my iPhone titled ‘If I die’, has been retitled to ‘when I die’, because there is no ‘if’ about it!
People can no longer say I lead a charmed life & always land on my feet. It’s true that life has been good for us in so many ways, but the last 40 years have also held dark moments. We tend not to dwell on the hard stuff – partly because it hasn’t been life threatening. I remember losing over $250k in 2009 as we were travelling Australia. Part of managing my anxiety was lying in bed and just saying ‘No one has died. No one is going to die. You have simply lost money.’ It helped. It really did put stuff in perspective. Of course I can’t use that mantra now. I vividly remember being at a conference where another pastor requested prayer for the death of a son. I just remember recoiling in horror at the thought of that happening to anyone. ‘You poor bloke’ I thought. That’s next level intense. I cant imagine facing something like that,’ and then March 24th came around… Those things don’t happen to me… well apparently they do.
I can and am investing ‘fatherly’ effort into other younger men who are in my life. I currently have time, energy and experience to offer and I see a real need for a fatherly approach to leadership within both our communities and our churches. My hope isn’t to establish any formal structures, systems (or programmes to sell on the internet), but just to have time to tune into the spirit and from there listen to who and where he may point me. There was a lot of time and love allocated to Sam that now I will intentionally seek to allocate elsewhere. I hope that if I do make it to 80, I will be able to look around and see many younger people in whose lives I have been invited to share and invest some of my own. That would make me very happy.
So those are some of the ways life has shifted and reformed for me over this time. It has been bad, terrible, devastating – all those words – but these are some of the lights that shine in the darkness. I actually love John’s description of Jesus in John 1:5
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
I sense this is true in our current darkness. The light still shines and darkness will not have the final word.
Oh – and we now have a puppy called Tahnee who is a Retriever cross Border Collie. She has brought an immense amount of joy into our home. I don’t think she would have come along had Sam still been alive, (he brought enough ‘puppy energy’ for all of us) but she has been a sheer beam of light in herself. I never thought we would own another dog, let alone a puppy, but here we are with no regrets.
It’s hard to describe how it feels 7 months down the road of losing a son. Last weekend we did the paddle out for Sam, an event I was only half looking forward to. I sense there was something of it all centring on the ocean that was both soothing me and burring me. I felt edgy and skittish but also like I wanted to full revel in this one last moment of remembering him publicly and in the place we both love so deeply. Perhaps it was knowing that this was effectively the end of the road for any kind of ‘corporate remembering’ that was knocking me off centre.
As far as the day went, quite honestly you could not have asked for a more beautiful , joyful and sincere time of honouring Sam.
We kicked off with Rowan’s baptism – a significant moment in itself as he was one of Sam’s best mates during high school. Rowan spoke of wanting to transform a head knowledge faith into a personal experience of God and of Sam as someone who lived a life that inspired and pointed him to God. It was a perfect time to mark one death and one ‘new birth’, and a privilege to baptise him.
Then Morro drove in and sang the song that he wrote back when Sam had first died. It was as beautiful and powerful as I expected and there was nothing I could do but just weep my way thru it. Sam was courageous and fearless but it was this thrillseeker bent that eventually took him out. In a conversation later in the day with one of his diving friends D said ‘Sam was always diving deeper and staying down longer than we were comfortable with.’ Seems he was pushing boundaries in a sport where there is no margin for error.
Jake led us into the paddle out – an ancient surfing tradition, where the person is remembered and celebrated by those who shared the water with them. It was great to see a number of our local men there to be part of the day – men Sam had surfed with – blokes who had shown him the ropes, given him rides home and generally looked out for him as a local grom growing up in Yanchep.
Around 50 people flocked into the north end of the lagoon and paddled out beyond the reef, forming a large circle as we joined hands. Micah reminded us before praying that Sam would surely be telling us ‘I’m peeing in my wetsuit!’. We splashed and hooted a final farewell to our boy – and then paddled across to the break where 2 ft mush burgers were splodging on a very dry, sometimes bare reef. Our local favourite certainly didn’t turn it on for Sam’s farewell, so the surfing was short lived.
One moment that I remember well was standing and looking out to the crowd as I got the day underway. Seeing locals who had shared this ocean with us for the last 13 years, school friends on whom Sam had left a mark, family – always large chunks of them – and then churchies and valued friends who had come to mark the day with us. I felt blessed to see these people present for Sam – and equally blessed to know they were with us on the journey. I never cease to be amazed at the grief other people carry because of Sam. For some it has rattled their world and it just keeps rattling.
As the crowd settled back on the beach Toby (Cosi’s bro) sang a song he wrote the day after Sam died. It had beautiful lyrics and spoke to the love Sam had for Cosi and the hope they had of spending their lives together. The loss of that future is one of the things I lament most deeply.
On reflection, I wish we could have held the paddle out sooner, but conflicts with dates and dodgy weather pushed us out to here. The emotional overwhelm of the day has caught up with me now and I am feeling the like we have reached the ‘end’ of a long process. And of course the question that emerges is ‘what now?…’
I guess it’s just more stepping out day after day, choosing to find the joy in life while also holding the constant sorrow. There still isn’t a day goes by that I don’t find myself wondering, pondering, questioning the whole thing. How could one breath have made such a difference? Where exactly is he now – yeah I get ‘with Jesus’, but where exactly and what form is he in?… How will we be reunited and when?
Life is in the process of re-forming and emerging from the chaos. We now have a puppy and that was a good decision. Tahnee has simply been a source of great joy and while there have been a few ‘sacrificial’ pieces of homeware chewed and destroyed by her, there are no regrets.
On Nov 16 we head to Tassie for two weeks with Danelle’s sister Janene and Stu & Carolyn, a holiday we planned a fair while ago and one I have barely given a thought to. That said, Tasmania is easy to love and Danelle has done a lot of the planning for us already. The decision to hire two cars should pay off too as we won’t have to decide between craft shops and surfing 🙂
As business slows down, I intend to see a bit more of the beach and to make sure Tahnee learns good habits. Remember that Bible verse?… ’Train up a dog in the way she should go and when she is old she will not depart from it…’
As I was working on a caravan recently the owners were present and chatting with me. She told that her husband was a police chaplain. ‘That’s an interesting job’ I said.
‘We were pastors for 33 years’ she said, ‘but we got a bit burnt out.’
‘Oh yeah,’ I said ‘That sounds tough…’
I listened for a bit and then said ‘I used to be a pastor myself.’
I could see her face get that bemused look as I knelt on her floor and tried to mount a heater. I probably didn’t look much like a pastor – and I too was bemused that I had said ‘I used to be a pastor…’ Was that really the case? Had I reached the end of the road with that vocation?
My hunch is probably not, but right now isn’t the season for diving into anything complex or challenging. In my own gut I feel like I’d enjoy a decent challenge, but I know Danelle isn’t ready for that and there is no value in pushing into anything. I’m very happy to cruise, enjoy another quiet summer and do bits and pieces here and there as needed.
And then we see what 2025 holds… Def gonna be a better year than 2024.
Living in a ‘tolerant’ western culture, absolute statements about religious faith can go off like dog farts (and right now we know all about those). You make the call and realise that the room has gone quiet. People are wondering – has anyone else picked it… or is it just me? (And I put ‘tolerant’ in quotation marks because we actually aren’t tolerant of everything)
Anyway let’s get dirty like our pup above and throw around some difficult ideas…
One of the challenges the Christian story brings is it’s abundance of absolutes – claims made by Jesus or the biblical writers that are bold, strong and at times even offensive to those reading them. Case in point would be Acts 4:12 ‘Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to humankind by which we must be saved.’
There isn’t much room for negotiation on that one. Jesus himself makes this exact claim in John 14:6, ‘I am the Way,Truth and life – no one comes to the father except through me.’ It’s places like these that we get the language of ‘Jesus being the only way to God.’
A more popular view would be that we are all climbing the same mountain just from different aspects. Ultimately we will all – Buddhist, Christian, Muslim, Sikh etc – reach the ‘top’ using our own guides. I feel like that is a more likeable and digestible approach in a pluralistic western world. Let’s just hope that whatever we are doing takes us up the mountain.
Some angles on this that I find challenging:
Each religion makes different claims – it is a nothing more than a matter of simple logic to say they cannot all be true. Christians see Jesus as the saviour of the world, through his death on the cross. Without this act of love and forgiveness we would spend this life and the next separated from God. Jesus is our ‘point of difference’ and we cannot frame it any other way. When Muslims claim Jesus is a prophet, but not divine they make a statement directly contrary to what Christians believe. We simply can’t both be correct. If we accept that both are equally true, then we have to accept that some people will be able to call black ‘white’ and vice versa without contradiction. Doesn’t make sense does it?
The Bible – The scriptures I use as my means of discerning faith decisions and making sense of the world are not open to the possibility of all other faiths being equally able to save. For Buddhists who do not believe in the existence of a God we can’t even have the same conversation because there is no God to discuss. I appreciate that accepting the Bible as having genuine clout on these issues is an under-lying assumption that not all would bode well with. Perhaps its because I have spent my life immersed in this book that I come to these conclusions. Or – and I hope this is true – my experience and interactions with this book have proven credible and trustworthy.
The conclusion matters – given we are essentially discussing the meaning of our existence and our purpose both on this planet and beyond, it matters that we think carefully about our conclusions. It just doesn’t work to say ‘it will all work out in the end.’ Because it might… but then again it might not… And I realise there is a lot to process, but these questions are often left to lurk in the backs of our minds until something jars us into serious thought.
Jesus – the life of Jesus and the claims he makes are either true or outrageously ridiculous. I am assuming the gospels are accurate historical records of what took place in that time and they portray him as the saviour of the world / the Messiah / the king whose kingdom is not of this world. He calls people to follow him, to place their faith in him and to trust him for an understanding of how to live both now and into the eternal realm. So if what he says isn’t truth then he is a con-man / deceiver (who also died for that lie)…
One of the inevitable questions we face in asserting Jesus as the ‘only way’ is that of ‘so does that mean that every person who ever lived and who didn’t hear about Jesus is consigned to eternity in hell? That would seem very unfair I agree. If you were lucky enough to be born in a country with Judea Christian heritage then you have all of that as your back-story whereas if you were born in Pakistan, Afghanistan or Anywhereistan then you are at a significant disadvantage.
And then, given we are in a secular age and the Christian story has diminished in our consciousness most people not raised in a church-going Christian family will need someone to guide them to a point of belief and faith in Jesus. What if the person who has been explaining faith to you does such a terrible job of it that you conclude it is a load of nonsense?… If you ‘heard the message’ but couldn’t make sense of it are you lost for eternity? (Surely an all powerful God could have sent you a smarter evangelist to present the message?…)
And of course there’s the question of those with significant cognitive disabilities – how do they come to a point of faith? Can they even?…
I could go on, but you get the point. This stuff gets messy fast.
It’s where I come back to assumption number 1 – my primary theological building block = God is good.
If God is good then he won’t treat anyone unfairly when it comes to a time of judgement. If you lived in a place where you never got to hear anyone speak of Jesus then a good God is unlikely to say ‘ah… sorry – sucks to be you…’ If God is good then we will be treated justly. In Romans 2, Paul writes of those who have never heard and says:
14 (Indeed, when Gentiles, who do not have the law, do by nature things required by the law, they are a law for themselves, even though they do not have the law. 15 They show that the requirements of the law are written on their hearts, their consciences also bearing witness, and their thoughts sometimes accusing them and at other times even defending them.)
There is an innate sense of right and wrong that has been hardwired into our being and in the absence of any experience of faith, it seems this will be our guiding light – of course it doesn’t mean it will always get listened to.
When we are talking about the eternal destiny of every person who has ever lived then we are discussing a massive subject and one with plenty of conundrums…
What can we be sure of?
God is good – I know – I keep banging that drum, but it’s gotta be a starting point.
Jesus is the only way to God.
I keep hoping like CS Lewis did that there may be a second chance to reassess the evidence post-mortem, and some universalist theologians would suggest that for God to achieve his purposes (his desire that all be saved) then this would be essential. But there is also plenty of scripture to suggest that there will be a cut off and some will not be ‘saved’ or welcomed into the new creation.
Jesus as the only way is one of those ‘lines in the sand’, that I hold to, but how God accomplishes this may be more mysterious than I am able to imagine.
If there was an olympic event for the person who could cram the most expletives in a sentence then this fella probably would have won gold. And if adding vitriol and venom for emphasis, was akin to increasing the ‘degree of difficulty’ then he was going to score off the charts there as well.
Ryan backed the van down the service entrance to the supermarket where we had just arrived to pick up the out of date produce. Another monthly run together where we visit 4 local shops and collect groceries for distribution later that evening. Its always good to catch up and chew the fat of life for a couple of hours, but this one looked like taking a bit longer as a massive delivery truck had beaten us to the draw and was occupying the only available service bay. We backed in anyway to get the lie of the land.
That was where we met Davo – a fit looking bloke, probably in his early 60’s, sorting out his ramps and waiting for some staff to give him permission to unload. We said ‘g’day’ and waited for someone to come and attend to us. After a few minutes of waiting and realising no one was coming any time soon we began chatting with Dave who let us know he hated his effing job, hated his effing life and hated the way our generation had effed up the world for our kids. ‘I’d rather just be effing dead’ he said (and it felt like he meant it.) With each statement he made, he looked to us for affirmation – that life was terrible, that we had screwed the world up and that we’d all be better off dead. But it was an affirmation that wasn’t coming – just a couple of gentle acknowledgments that his life sounded hard.
He returned to the desire to die – to be done with and out of here – hopefully to a better place. ‘I mean it.’ he said ‘I’m done!’
I’m not sure quite what prompted my question, other than simple curiosity ‘What do you reckon happens after death?’ I asked.
‘Oh – I suppose I go up there – if he’ll have me after all of my swearing and carrying on.’
That was a curious response. (Based on what we had heard so far I had anticipated he’d more likely say ‘eff all.’)
‘Do you know him?’ I asked, pushing into the identity of ‘him up there’. It seemed like an unusual question to be asking the delivery driver, but I was realising this wasn’t your standard, congenial conversation.
‘Oh yeah’ he answered. ‘I doubt he’s real happy with me – haven’t been to church for ages and I swear too much.’
‘He’s pretty good at being gracious,’ Ryan said.
‘I don’t think he’s too fussed over a few swear words,’ I added.
I think we had both keyed into the sense that there was ‘stuff’ going on for this man and that we may have arrived just in time to listen to him and help him process some of his anger.
In a previous post I pondered the extent to which God intervenes in our world and our daily lives – to what degree he engineers scenarios for us to engage in. In this moment it seemed that maybe he had purposefully put the two of us here waiting in a delivery bay with a very angry man.
Davo spoke of his life – of the endless work that was draining his soul, of his inability to get to church because he was just so ‘effing exhausted’. Then he went on to speak of how no one gave a shit about him – not his family or his friends… Then he said ‘you know it’s only my church who have sought me out and stayed in touch. They have tried to connect with me.’
‘They sound like good people.’ I said
‘They are!’ he affirmed. He told us of his journey out of alcoholism in 2016, and how one day he just decided to attend a church – out of the blue. It was a very conservative meat and 3 veg, evangelical church with no bells and whistles, but he said ‘That first day I went there I experienced something. I wept. I felt something very real.’
I thought it was time to let him in on the fact that we both had a little prior experience with faith and church. ‘You realise you’re talking to a couple of pastors here don’t you?’ I said. He smiled ‘What?…’
We talked some more and we experienced Davo’s countenance getting lighter with each moment. He started to smile, and gain energy, to speak of his church and their care for him, of how valuable that community was. We didn’t need to suggest he get back there – he’d already convinced himself that this was what was needed.
It seemed 20 minutes was going to turn into 40 or thereabouts and we both had places to be and things to do, so we said we’d take off and do the pick up later. As we left a now grinning and animated Davo yells out ‘See you later – brothers!’
And my heart smiled.
A 20 minute delay in the service bay finished up as a beautiful conversation with a man whose life had just got bit too much for him. A few gentle questions, a serving of grace and a couple of listening ears allowed him to share the pain, but also find his way back to the hope.
So, do I believe in an interventionist God?…
Oh yeah…
(I should note that my memory of detail is pretty ordinary so I have reconstructed this story as best I remember it. Ryan might have a slightly different take, or be able to add some detail.)
A number of years ago now I went surfing off the reef just out from the Alkimos wreck. I anchored my 17ft half cab just 50m or so south west of the break and well out of harm’s way. It was a beautiful morning of surfing out on the reef with just two or three of us enjoying some magical waves.
Then the wind turned suddenly as it does in our part of the world, and the seabreeze began to blow. The surf was now sloppy and I began to consider paddling back to the boat. That was when I noticed that the boat was actually making it’s way toward me. I had just caught a wave and was paddling back out, all the time watching my boat drift rapidly into the impact zone.
This was not good. With a large set wave looming on the horizon I paddled furiously towards the boat, clambered onboard with legrope still attached and board drifting in the water. A wave was about to break on the boat. I flicked the key, it started first time with a throaty two stroke growl and I gunned it thru the oncoming wave as water crashed over the bow. Had it happened today someone would have recorded it and put it on Tiktok or Instagram as one of those classic ‘kook fails.’
I moved the boat out of danger and with the breeze strengthening we decided to call it a day and head for the ramp.
I thought the anchor was rock solid – but when the wind turned my boat quickly drifted into trouble.
If you’ve been following our journey over this year then you’d know that the biggest shift has been the death of our son Sam, back on March 24th. On Tuesday it will be 6 months without him and it has undoubtedly been the roughest and toughest experience any of us have had to navigate. But as I was chatting this morning with my friend Stuart, I said ‘but the anchor has held‘. And by that I mean that our faith and hope in Jesus has been as solid as we hoped it would be.
Stuart asked ‘was there ever any doubt about that?’
‘Hmmm,’ I pondered. ‘In theory, no – but in reality you just never know who you will be or what shape your faith will take if the winds of suffering blow hard enough and long enough.’
It was March 21st when I posted a short list of the convictions that I believe have formed my faith and life. It is called ‘Runs Deep’, because these are deeply held beliefs that have formed over many years.
Number 1 is ‘God is Good’
I wrote that on March 21st with the deepest of conviction – I have said many times that it is the foundational element of my faith. Three days later Sam died. If I knew anything in the midst of that horror it was that God had not stopped being good 3 days later. But my life had been thrown into turmoil.
The final of my 6 core convictions was that, ‘My hope is in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ’
What I meant by that was:
that we are not alone – that life is not random and meaningless – but there is a good God who is in the process of restoring the broken creation and he invites us to join him in that.
The other 4 convictions were :
2. Jesus is Lord
3. The kingdom of God is ultimate reality & the hope of God for the world
4. Faith is both beautiful and mysterious (but not very systematic)
5. Faith is inherently communal
I won’t try and articulate how each one has ‘held’ or sustained me, as I sense it has been the collective strength of each of these elements that has really anchored me. Each idea is solid on it’s own but when knitted together into a way of viewing the world I have found that it has been a genuine source of hope and sustenance when I have felt overwhelmed, weak and sad.
People ask me if I am angry at God – and my question is ‘what for?’ I don’t have the expectation that God will step in to protect us in every situation where we take risks. When it come to ‘divine intervention’ I honestly don’t know how much we can attribute to God and how much is good fortune.
When a bus crashes and one Christian family thanks God for apparently protecting their kid while in the same event another is grieved because God apparently didn’t do his job of protection who is correct? Does God actually choose some to protect and others to die?
In the bigger scheme of things is God responsible for famines, natural disasters and general catastrophic events? Is he off his game and failing in his duty, or are they all part of a divine plan?
I sense we have some inherited some kooky expectations around what God should and shouldn’t do in the world and what we can expect of him as his people. Much of it relates to our concept of sovereignty and how much God actually is in control of and how much he is at work in the world orchestrating events.
We use interesting rhetoric like ‘It’s ok because God is in control.‘ How do you apply that to something like the upcoming USA elections? How does that apply to our life?
I’m not a deist – not by a long shot – but I do believe God is far more mysterious in his interventions than we can ever understand. I sense we think that we would much prefer a predictable, safe God who eliminates all pain and suffering for his kids – the only thing is that to do so is to remove a huge amount of our autonomy and identity.
I have delved more into that subject than I really want to here, as the point I simply want to communicate is that ‘the anchor has held.’ We are not adrift, floundering and lost. We are in pain, we are deeply sad – just flicking back thru my posts from this year left me bewildered again at the turn our life has taken.
I also understand that not everyone sees the world as I do. Psalm 88 is the classic lament – that does not end with a turning toward God, but instead the words ‘darkness is my closest friend.’ Ouch – that whole Psalm is powerful and disturbing. And for some this is their experience. That’s ok too.
At the end of the day it’s a journey we have to walk individually and a wrestle we must grapple with personally. But this is my experience. In the tone of Dale Kerrigan from the Castle ‘I am Andrew Hamilton and this is my story!’
What’s it mean pactically?
For the last 6 months our lives have been somewhat about survival – about getting thru the madness that accompanies such a loss. I have kept quite busy working on caravans and doing some speaking here and there, while Danelle has had space to sit with the grief and really work it thru. Ellie has had it toughest in that she simply had to go back to work – and nursing is obviously intense in that it’s with people… Meanwhile the other family impacted – Sam’s partner and her tribe have also been coping with the fallout of a life that was pointed in a direction that is now no longer possible. So much pain right there…
We have all felt it in different ways and coped in different ways. Danelle was a week away from starting an intensive course in clinical pastoral education at Royal Perth Hospital – sitting with people in their pain and grief. As you can imagine she postponed the course and she isn’t sure at the moment when she will be ready to engage with it.
We had also planned to help Margaret River Baptist with some interim leadership, but it was simply out of the question, to go and be present for others when we were so disoriented and hurting. There are currently no future interim ministry plans, but I imagine in time we will be ready for a few challenges.
With summer on the horizon my diesel heater business will slow and I will enjoy the warmer weather with some surfing, stand up paddle boarding and cycling as my daily regime. Add a few gym visits and weekly basketball and it’s hard to fit work in anyway! And as some of you will be aware a few weeks back I was pondering the idea of getting a dog again. I listed 12 reasons not to get a dog. And then one reason in favour – ‘I like dogs’. Guess what?… we got a dog!
To be honest I almost backed out on the night before we were due to pick her up. The weight of the responsibility was really sitting heavy on me – I wasn’t sure I could manage it well. I was worried about all that could possibly go awry, but as Ellie was quick to remind me ‘weren’t you the person who said we ought to ask the question ‘what if everything went well?‘… Fair call! i did say that, didn’t I? And I have chosen to look thru that lens in the expectation that if we do this well there will be immense joy and fun in having this new family member. So we now have a 12 week old Retriever cross Border Collie puppy who is already winning our hearts and bringing a degree of joy that we haven’t had for a while.
In fact it was only last night, I was lying on the floor playing with Tahnee, and I said to Danelle, ‘I am so happy we did this!’ Not words I expected to come out of my mouth, but she has certainly won me over. I also expect that much of my summer will be spent training and teaching her so she will be a good dog rather than psycho menace.
So that’s life for us at the moment, 6 months into this new stage. Thanks to those who have loved us and prayed for us and supported us. It still feels surreal that this is our life, but here we are….
