It’s been intentional ‘radio silence’ on Facebook for the last 3 weeks. I’ve been experimenting with a time of deliberate retraction to try and work out where this piece of social media fits in my life.

In the last year I have found myself making it my default ‘go to’ in any spare moments and I’m pretty sure it has been largely responsible for dulling my creative processes. Blogging has been difficult and any extended reading has also been harder, as the ‘re-wiring’ of my brain has increasingly been toward the short thought, rather than the extended argument.

It’s been frustrating sensing it happening – knowing the theory of it – but also feeling that weird compulsion to check Facebook or Instagram ‘one more time’.

That’s bad right?… It’s an addiction… Right?…

But what I’ve found is that in the absence of firing off a few quick thoughts on FB and then checking back regularly to see if anyone has interacted, I have managed to scratch together a few new blog posts – and it hasn’t been difficult. Writing has come easy and ideas have also been percolating freely – like they used to.

Ironically the only problem now is that in these times FB seems to be the primary way people find my blog and interact with it. So in its absence I feel like I am writing in a vacuum.

I know at least 3 or 4 people read – those with RSS feeds – but I get the impression that’s a bit of an older technology these days. I enjoy the conversation that accompanies a blog so to be writing with no interaction feels a little pointless and a lot less fun too!

So if you see me on FB for a week or so and then I disappear again it’s because I am experimenting with it.

I’d like to ditch it completely – and I feel like I may still do that – but to do so is to miss out on the good that goes with the bad. And it’s not all bad.

So at this point I think I will post some new blog material – maybe I will reactivate FB once I have 5 posts, then leave it active for a few days to interact and then deactivate it again until I have some more more new ideas to share.

It’s a bit clunky and awkward but it seems like the best way forward at the moment.

Afternoon beach crawl – Bondi – Maroubra

Holidays always end with mixed feelings. That’s a good thing.

I still remember a quote from Shakespeare that I learnt for my year 12 English Literature exam way back in 1981.

‘If all the year were playing sport then to holiday would be as tedious as to work – but when they seldom come, they wished for come’ (Henry IV Part 1)

It’s one piece of learning that has stayed with me since high school – and a useful piece too. The only way we really know ‘holiday’ is by slogging it out for 3 months – then we are ready for a change of pace and environment.

So – now it’s time to go home – to get back into the regular rhythms of life and to work. Thankfully I find regular life enjoyable anyway. Leading church, kicking business back into gear and then slotting back into all the regular things we do around home.

Its the yin and yang of how life works – a period of work – a period of rest – repeat.

Leave either out and it doesn’t work.

It’s been around 3 months now since the news around Bill Hybels shifted from absolutely, definitely ‘innocent and unfairly accused’ to despicably ‘guilty as charged’ and the information that made it to the public space is quite possibly just the tip of the iceberg. If Hybels was this foolish and inappropriate with the people close to him – the other ‘strong leaders’ – who in the end were courageous enough to speak up (despite his denials and shaming of them) then how did he treat the young and vulnerable who were in awe of him?

If the independent investigation is to be believed (and it certainly sounds credible) then Hybels was an ongoing philanderer who used his power to get what he wanted and then get away with it.

On one hand this is shocking news – and I use ‘shocking’ as in disbelief. On the other hand it is probably no great surprise as he is as human and vulnerable to failure as any lesser mortal. He had acquired enormous power and status perhaps enough to make him feel the rules were different for him, or maybe he would never get caught out?

I remember the first time I heard Hybels speak at a WCA conference and I was in awe of his passion, clarity and focus. I wanted to be like him. I wanted to lead with his strength and vision and for a time I tried to step into that persona. It ‘worked’ in that we ran church like a successful organisation, but after a while I shifted gears and decided that the Hybels approach to leadership didn’t reflect who I felt called to be. I still held him in the highest esteem for his achievements and his love for the church.

(I was about to write his ‘apparent love for the church’, but I believe he was genuine – he probably still is. Bill Hybels probably still believes in the power and beauty of the church – at least in theory.)

What I really struggle to understand is how a man who spoke so much about transparency and authenticity has been unable to simply say ‘I screwed up – I really blew it – and I am sorry’. Is it simply that ‘sorry’ opens the door to a plethora of other allegations, and then a possible bankruptcy? Is it that simple – a case of dollars and cents? I’d really hope not.

I do not get why he can’t face up to the people who have listened to him and respected him for so long. Surely they are owed more than his silence and invisibility.

And these people (like myself and others who attended conferences) are not even the ones who have suffered. I feel gyped by Hybels. I find myself wondering ‘who was he screwing last time I heard him speak?’ Crass… yeah I know… it is crass stuff.

But the actual real people who were used and abused by Hybels are still left with no admission of guilt, let alone a sincere apology and a desire to try and make amends however that would look. This is a disturbing insight into Hybel’s character. I have it described as narcissism – and a narcissist is never in the wrong.

But – surely, surely, surely at some point you must move past self deception to admit you got it wrong and that the gospel of grace and forgiveness you preached with such passion is actually available to you. Yeah – you might ‘lose everything’ in recompensing the people you have wronged – but surely this is where you are now anyway?

I’m not calling for Hybels to come clean because it will ease his personal burden – but simply because sometimes you screw up and you have to own it. And until you own it – the issue remains unresolved both in the minds of people like me and also much more importantly in the lives of those who were hurt.

So – on the off chance that you are googling your own name Bill and you have come across my post – then this is just a plea to make things right by having the balls to own your mistakes and to step up to the plate. I know the church that I have experienced would forgive you in a heartbeat – we would see ourselves in your struggle and we would welcome you back into the family and seek to help you on a path of restoration. You would find love, acceptance and forgiveness in spades. But while you stand at a distance and plead innocent you can never experience this. The time for stoic denial is surely well over and the time to repent and ask forgiveness is ripe.

There is this bloke they used to call ‘a friend of sinners’. He has all the time in the world for the broken and the screwed up – he has grace in abundance for the person who admits their fault. But for the man who stands in his own self righteousness he has nothing but harsh words and judgement.

Your call.

A few years a relative of mine was visiting from Northern Ireland. We started discussing church life and I asked her ‘So what are the big issues for the church in Nth Ireland?’

‘Hats’ she said.

‘Oh…’ I said, realising pretty quickly that we probably didn’t have a lot to talk about on this front.

‘Hats?’ I thought… ‘wow…’

There were none of the issues I would consider ‘biggies’, (gay marriage, secularism, mission) but then that is just the way things are in that culture at this time.

And reality is that one man’s ‘hats’ is another man’s ‘gay marriage’. We all see different issues as deal breakers – hills to die on. ‘Hats’ isn’t one of mine – but it may have been 100 years ago had I been leading an Australian Baptist church back then.

I have different issues – areas of concern that I would fight hard on because they have become significant in my theology as it has developed.

At our last Baptist pastors conference I realised that were I not leading QBC and Yanchep I may have very limited options for any future ministry work. The realisation dawned on me as a friend mentioned that of our approx 130 Baptist churches in West Oz only 26 (or thereabouts) allow women preachers or senior leaders – and I already lead two of them.

The issue of how we view women has shifted significantly in my own theology from my early years of accepting the very constraining views of my church culture (women weren’t allowed to do anything up front) to now where I hold women as absolute equals and able to function in any way men can.

Danelle and I lead together – ‘we’ lead our churches and I believe we are healthier for it. I could unpack all of my theologising around this subject, but I won’t. I find it inevitably leads to debate and usually debate with people who strongly hold a different view.

But when it comes to things that are ‘core’, ‘conviction’ or simply ‘opinion’, the question of how we treat women has become a strong conviction – at times leaning towards ‘core’.

Barring a bolt from the ‘boss’ (that’s God – not Danelle), I just couldn’t sign up with a mob who held different views to my own on this issue.

So the chances of Danelle and I moving churches in the next 10-20 years is very unlikely. Unless it were with a view to leading change we just wouldn’t be the right people for a church that held a ‘complementarian’ view.

And I mean no disrespect to my complementarian brothers and sisters in writing this. They have their theological reasons for holding the views they do. I just read stuff differently – and it matters significantly.

My hunch is we won’t be having any debate in 100 years time on this topic. It seems that this the way theology moves. What was provocative and disturbing becomes mainstream and we wonder what all the fuss was about. We’ve been there with hats, with hymns and with musical instruments… will it be the same with ‘women’?

I hope so – but I hope sooner rather than later for the many called, gifted and capable women who at this time are unable to serve in the way they feel God has created them to.

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.