Friday, July 7
Monday, June 26
The Maze...
Imagine being stuck in one of those hedge mazes... lost... not knowing which way was north let alone which way was out... One moment frantically running, thinking if you can just move fast enough you will get to the end... The next moment curled up in a ball, hiding in a corner, waiting for it all to end... The branches tear at your skin everytime you fall... the ground cold and hard, without comfort. You pass others in the maze, some too busy to stop and help for they are running too... Some you pass, unaware that they are trapped... blisfully wandering. Others promise they way out but upon close examination you realise that they haven't got the answers... They are as lost as you... In exhaustion, you crumble to the ground, spent. Nothing more to give. Then you hear it... the still small voice... the whisper... "Stand up..." you cannot move... you are too tired... "Trust me... Stand up..." As you struggle to drag your feet under you, you feel a strong hand grip your arm and lift you to your feet. Standing, the maze doesn't seem quite as tall anymore... infact you can see over the walls for miles...
"Come, follow me..."
"Come, follow me..."
Thursday, March 23
Life is a funny thing... Update
Davie's version: "I asked. She said 'yes'"
Tere's version:
So here I am, authenticating some passport photos after the morning service when Dave's sister walks into church and hands me a miniature red rose and an envelope, then promptly leaves :) Leaving the envelope unread I finish signing off the photos, then sit on the church steps contemplating what could possibly be in the envelope. (I had been warned) I discussed it with a few friends then decided to take a risk and open it. All it said was "Favourite tree 1pm"
Now, before you ask, I do have a favourite tree and I do know where it. It's a huge Morton bay fig in Cornwall park. Da used to take us there and bounce us on the huge ranches. I had my 16th birthday party under that tree (a few of you may remember it - 'purple' party... pass the life saver with a too thick between your teeth) and just the day before we had kidknapped my flatmate for her birthday and had a picnic under the same tree.
So, I mucked around for 40 minutes waiting for it to be close to 1pm... Not too early that I ruined any surprise but not too late that he thought I wasn't coming. I drove past the tree looking for a park and saw Dave pacing under the tree. It looked like a giant daisy chain was strung from the tree (Olivia once told him he couldn't make a daisy chain, so he did and gave it to me). I found a park and heade toward the tree where he was pacing... When he finally saw me he lay down on his side and tried to look all casual like he'd seen me coming :)
He had laid out a couple of picnic blankets (overlaid) and scattered rose petals around it. In the corners were pink hibiscus flower and what I thought was a daisy chain, were actually a dozen white roses hanging from the branches above.
I got there and couldn't stop talking I was so nervous...
Finally he said 'well, I'm not one to muck around', got up on two knees (we were sitting down) and said some awfully nice stuff about me that I can't remember (be together forever, that kind of thing) and then asked me if I would marry him.
Now, many people stop me at this point in the story and asked me if I kept him hanging for a minute or two while I thought about it, but alas, I was so nervous I only just managed to get out a 'yes'.
This is where it gets funny :)
Dave pulled out a ring (temporary one as we are getting my grandmother's ring reset) and put it on my finger but it only went halfway down. I laughed and he explained that he was having another one resized but the jeweller had taken two weeks and it still wasn't ready on the day so he took a guess and got another one.
Rather than just wear it on another finger I decided to look for a substitute... We tried weaving a leaf, a bit of grass but finally stumbled across a piece of nylon kids craft string that was yellow and glittery so Dave wove me a ring out of that. We then decided that although it was cute that we should get a more permanent temporary ring so went to St Luke's after having lunch together and got matching ones (sickly cute, I know).
Funnier still was that Dave had brought a bottle of wine as some Dutch courage, but also hadn't eaten all day so needless to say, I had to drive :P
So that's the story... Sorry it's so late. On the way are some photos too!
Kia kaha - Tere
Tere's version:
So here I am, authenticating some passport photos after the morning service when Dave's sister walks into church and hands me a miniature red rose and an envelope, then promptly leaves :) Leaving the envelope unread I finish signing off the photos, then sit on the church steps contemplating what could possibly be in the envelope. (I had been warned) I discussed it with a few friends then decided to take a risk and open it. All it said was "Favourite tree 1pm"
Now, before you ask, I do have a favourite tree and I do know where it. It's a huge Morton bay fig in Cornwall park. Da used to take us there and bounce us on the huge ranches. I had my 16th birthday party under that tree (a few of you may remember it - 'purple' party... pass the life saver with a too thick between your teeth) and just the day before we had kidknapped my flatmate for her birthday and had a picnic under the same tree.
So, I mucked around for 40 minutes waiting for it to be close to 1pm... Not too early that I ruined any surprise but not too late that he thought I wasn't coming. I drove past the tree looking for a park and saw Dave pacing under the tree. It looked like a giant daisy chain was strung from the tree (Olivia once told him he couldn't make a daisy chain, so he did and gave it to me). I found a park and heade toward the tree where he was pacing... When he finally saw me he lay down on his side and tried to look all casual like he'd seen me coming :)
He had laid out a couple of picnic blankets (overlaid) and scattered rose petals around it. In the corners were pink hibiscus flower and what I thought was a daisy chain, were actually a dozen white roses hanging from the branches above.
I got there and couldn't stop talking I was so nervous...
Finally he said 'well, I'm not one to muck around', got up on two knees (we were sitting down) and said some awfully nice stuff about me that I can't remember (be together forever, that kind of thing) and then asked me if I would marry him.
Now, many people stop me at this point in the story and asked me if I kept him hanging for a minute or two while I thought about it, but alas, I was so nervous I only just managed to get out a 'yes'.
This is where it gets funny :)
Dave pulled out a ring (temporary one as we are getting my grandmother's ring reset) and put it on my finger but it only went halfway down. I laughed and he explained that he was having another one resized but the jeweller had taken two weeks and it still wasn't ready on the day so he took a guess and got another one.
Rather than just wear it on another finger I decided to look for a substitute... We tried weaving a leaf, a bit of grass but finally stumbled across a piece of nylon kids craft string that was yellow and glittery so Dave wove me a ring out of that. We then decided that although it was cute that we should get a more permanent temporary ring so went to St Luke's after having lunch together and got matching ones (sickly cute, I know).
Funnier still was that Dave had brought a bottle of wine as some Dutch courage, but also hadn't eaten all day so needless to say, I had to drive :P
So that's the story... Sorry it's so late. On the way are some photos too!
Kia kaha - Tere
Monday, November 28
epilogue ot my theology in film paper...
All my life I have been asking myself the wrong question- ‘what’s wrong with me?’ It’s the wrong question. We all view the world through a paradigm, so why not ourselves as well? What underlying assumptions and questions are there when we look in the mirror?
Main stream media is driven by the consumer market which in turn, thrives off consumers. Media is also geared to answer the questions we ask of it. If my question s is ‘what is wrong with me,’ I am quick to be told not thin enough, not rich enough, not beautiful enough, not powerful enough, and not successful enough. So what are the solutions? In step the advertisers – pills programmes, seminars, diets and treatments – all geared to fix the problem of the answer to the wrong question. We buy the stuff – it doesn’t fix our wrongness, so we ask the question again – seamless cycle. What scares me is that I can ask the same question of Christianity and get a similar answer. What’s wrong with me? I don’t pray enough, you don’t read your bible enough, you don’t spend enough time in silent solitude, and you don’t worship enough, or sponsor enough children. And the solution? Buy a book, listen to sermon, follow this prayer liturgy… None of these things are bad in and of themselves however we can turn them into a 21st Century legalistic work, flogging ourselves out of the church and out of faith, trying to fix something God never asked us to fix; all because we asked the wrong question.
‘Hollywood’ tells us that we have two options – escape reality and become what we are not or be miserable because you are who you are. Never once do they suggest we should take honest account of ourselves, work out what is DNA and can be worked on. God didn’t design us without limitations. We have physical bodies that have limits – they can be pushed, yes, but never broken. We have certain brain chemical mixes that determine personality, intelligence and abilities – these can be grown altered and repressed but only within certain parameters.
I think many (including myself) tackle life from the wrong end. Like an upside down triangle we tackle behaviours, attitudes, maybe even values first and find the results all too often temporary- like pruning a tree to cure a disease in the roots. Whereas, if we were to start at the other end and change the underlying world view, then work out the parameters of our individual design that we have to operate within we would all cope with life a whole lot better, be a whole lot happier and probably more effective to boot (but I could just be selling another seminar…)
There is nothing ‘wrong’ with us, and by wrong I mean in ‘who I am’ as opposed to ‘what I do’. If our underlying assumption is that something is wrong with us then we will never be able to accept the things about us that are good, we will continually reject ourselves and we will always question God’s blessing in our lives. There is also something in the very DNA of human nature that knows wrong must be punished. I’ll bet (not that Christians should of course – that would be wrong) that it’s part of every culture. If ‘I’ am wrong then ‘I’ must be punished. Physical self harm. Self sabotage – to prove to the rest of the world that you’ve been tight about your ‘wrongness’ all along. Fear – that if you try and succeed someone will discover your wrongness; call you out as a fraud and you’ll loose any acceptance you might have. So if this is the ailment – to which my whole being calls out ‘amen!’ what is the medicine?
Hearing, believing then turning into the underlying assumption of your worldview the following….
But now. Two of the most beautiful words to the ears of a sinner who realises his woeful state.
21But now, apart from the law, the righteousness of God has been disclosed, and is attested by the law and the prophets, 22the righteousness of God through fait in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction, 23since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; 24they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, 25whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood, effective through faith. He did this to show his righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over the sins previously committed; 26it was to prove at the present time that he himself is righteous and that he justifies the on who has faith in Jesus.
Main stream media is driven by the consumer market which in turn, thrives off consumers. Media is also geared to answer the questions we ask of it. If my question s is ‘what is wrong with me,’ I am quick to be told not thin enough, not rich enough, not beautiful enough, not powerful enough, and not successful enough. So what are the solutions? In step the advertisers – pills programmes, seminars, diets and treatments – all geared to fix the problem of the answer to the wrong question. We buy the stuff – it doesn’t fix our wrongness, so we ask the question again – seamless cycle. What scares me is that I can ask the same question of Christianity and get a similar answer. What’s wrong with me? I don’t pray enough, you don’t read your bible enough, you don’t spend enough time in silent solitude, and you don’t worship enough, or sponsor enough children. And the solution? Buy a book, listen to sermon, follow this prayer liturgy… None of these things are bad in and of themselves however we can turn them into a 21st Century legalistic work, flogging ourselves out of the church and out of faith, trying to fix something God never asked us to fix; all because we asked the wrong question.
‘Hollywood’ tells us that we have two options – escape reality and become what we are not or be miserable because you are who you are. Never once do they suggest we should take honest account of ourselves, work out what is DNA and can be worked on. God didn’t design us without limitations. We have physical bodies that have limits – they can be pushed, yes, but never broken. We have certain brain chemical mixes that determine personality, intelligence and abilities – these can be grown altered and repressed but only within certain parameters.
I think many (including myself) tackle life from the wrong end. Like an upside down triangle we tackle behaviours, attitudes, maybe even values first and find the results all too often temporary- like pruning a tree to cure a disease in the roots. Whereas, if we were to start at the other end and change the underlying world view, then work out the parameters of our individual design that we have to operate within we would all cope with life a whole lot better, be a whole lot happier and probably more effective to boot (but I could just be selling another seminar…)
There is nothing ‘wrong’ with us, and by wrong I mean in ‘who I am’ as opposed to ‘what I do’. If our underlying assumption is that something is wrong with us then we will never be able to accept the things about us that are good, we will continually reject ourselves and we will always question God’s blessing in our lives. There is also something in the very DNA of human nature that knows wrong must be punished. I’ll bet (not that Christians should of course – that would be wrong) that it’s part of every culture. If ‘I’ am wrong then ‘I’ must be punished. Physical self harm. Self sabotage – to prove to the rest of the world that you’ve been tight about your ‘wrongness’ all along. Fear – that if you try and succeed someone will discover your wrongness; call you out as a fraud and you’ll loose any acceptance you might have. So if this is the ailment – to which my whole being calls out ‘amen!’ what is the medicine?
Hearing, believing then turning into the underlying assumption of your worldview the following….
But now. Two of the most beautiful words to the ears of a sinner who realises his woeful state.
21But now, apart from the law, the righteousness of God has been disclosed, and is attested by the law and the prophets, 22the righteousness of God through fait in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction, 23since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; 24they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, 25whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood, effective through faith. He did this to show his righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over the sins previously committed; 26it was to prove at the present time that he himself is righteous and that he justifies the on who has faith in Jesus.
Wednesday, September 21
the core of the issue...
What makes us human? That core, unchanging, eternal element of humanity that cannot be taken away from us... cannot be turned off...
This flows through my thoughts following earlier ponderings as to whether or not, if marooned on a desert island by my self, unable to 'do' anything for God, if he would still love or want me...
Now the conclusion I came to is 'of course stupid!' it has nothing to do with what we can do for God for we cannot do anything he cannot do himself...
The next leap in my reckoning is what if I were in a car accident? Tragically wounded to the verge of death... left cruelly blind. deaf, mute, paralysed and brain damaged... do you see where I'm going? Do I cease to be human?
Is my humanity contained in my abilty to see? The blind would tell you 'no'.
Is my humanity contained in my ability to hear? The deaf would tell you 'no'.
Is my humanity contained in my ability to speak? The mute would tell you... well... 'no'.
Is my humanity contained in my ability to run, dance, or play?
To think, reason or feel? I'm beginning to think... no.
Can this accident or indeed anything, take away my humanity?
Or are we defined by something else? The only thing I can think of that does not cease to exist in the event of any of the above happening is my position in regards to others... ie I remain my mother's daughter, my friends friend and most of all God's child...
There's more to be thought on this but not right now... I have assignemnts to do!!
This flows through my thoughts following earlier ponderings as to whether or not, if marooned on a desert island by my self, unable to 'do' anything for God, if he would still love or want me...
Now the conclusion I came to is 'of course stupid!' it has nothing to do with what we can do for God for we cannot do anything he cannot do himself...
The next leap in my reckoning is what if I were in a car accident? Tragically wounded to the verge of death... left cruelly blind. deaf, mute, paralysed and brain damaged... do you see where I'm going? Do I cease to be human?
Is my humanity contained in my abilty to see? The blind would tell you 'no'.
Is my humanity contained in my ability to hear? The deaf would tell you 'no'.
Is my humanity contained in my ability to speak? The mute would tell you... well... 'no'.
Is my humanity contained in my ability to run, dance, or play?
To think, reason or feel? I'm beginning to think... no.
Can this accident or indeed anything, take away my humanity?
Or are we defined by something else? The only thing I can think of that does not cease to exist in the event of any of the above happening is my position in regards to others... ie I remain my mother's daughter, my friends friend and most of all God's child...
There's more to be thought on this but not right now... I have assignemnts to do!!
Wednesday, September 7
Monday, September 5
Thursday, July 7
I believe...
I believe life is more than survival
I believe the heart is more than a muscle
I believe we can know right from wrong
I believe in hope and freedom
I believe my life can make a difference
I believe the message of the cross
What do you believe?
(Romans 10:9-13, Ephesians 2:8-10)
I believe the heart is more than a muscle
I believe we can know right from wrong
I believe in hope and freedom
I believe my life can make a difference
I believe the message of the cross
What do you believe?
(Romans 10:9-13, Ephesians 2:8-10)
Thursday, June 2
See the art in me...
Images on the sidewalk speak of dream’s decent
Washed away by storms to graves of cynical lament
Dirty canvases to call my own
Protest limericks carved by the old pay phone
In your picture book I’m trying hard to see
Turning endless pages of this tragedy
Sculpting every move you compose a symphony
You plead to everyone, see the art in me
Broken stained-glass windows, the fragments ramble on
Tales of broken souls, an eternity’s been won
As critics scorn the thoughts and works of mortal man
My eyes are drawn to you in awe once again
In your picture book I’m trying hard to see
Turning endless pages of this tragedy
Sculpting every move you compose a symphony
You plead to everyone, see the art in me
-jars of clay
I gave my mum an unfinished picture for her birthday today. It received a number of positive comments which I thought was unusual. You see for me, when I look at the picture, I see the work still to be done; the imperfections and mistake... when others look at it the see art.
When I look at myself I see the mistakes, the growing still to be done; all my imperfections on a living canvas. God looks at me and sees the finished work of art he is creating...
Washed away by storms to graves of cynical lament
Dirty canvases to call my own
Protest limericks carved by the old pay phone
In your picture book I’m trying hard to see
Turning endless pages of this tragedy
Sculpting every move you compose a symphony
You plead to everyone, see the art in me
Broken stained-glass windows, the fragments ramble on
Tales of broken souls, an eternity’s been won
As critics scorn the thoughts and works of mortal man
My eyes are drawn to you in awe once again
In your picture book I’m trying hard to see
Turning endless pages of this tragedy
Sculpting every move you compose a symphony
You plead to everyone, see the art in me
-jars of clay
I gave my mum an unfinished picture for her birthday today. It received a number of positive comments which I thought was unusual. You see for me, when I look at the picture, I see the work still to be done; the imperfections and mistake... when others look at it the see art.
When I look at myself I see the mistakes, the growing still to be done; all my imperfections on a living canvas. God looks at me and sees the finished work of art he is creating...
Monday, May 2
Another rant....
What do we place the measure of our self worth in? Do we measure is y cognitive function or creativity? Physical strength, attractiveness or virility? Is it in our ability to be 'nice' to everyone, make people laugh, cry or experience any other conveyor belt emotion?
The answer I'd love to give, especially as a Christian, is no, of course not, but the more I look around at the Christian Marketplace the more I see this isn't true. Consumer churches, generic interchangeable worship teams, sermons-in-a-can... Are we any different? Yes, we offer Jesus, but can we do it without the Hugo Boss and cosmetic war paint? How come I get the feeling there cool Christians and uncool ones? Didn't Jesus come to break down those barriers?
If we hold on to the secular measuring stick what can we possibly hope to offer the 'ugly' 'stupid' and 'unlovable'? I use those words harshly but with good intent. Does God love me because I'm intelligent? No. Funny? No. Attractive? No. If I was to wake up tomorrow blind, dumb, deaf and paralysed. I Know Jesus would still be at my side with his arms around me.
So then, all these measures that I hold so tightly to, become irrelevant, which is terrifying, isn't it? For they define the very core of me, don't they? I am defined by what I look like. It means I can be told apart from others. I am defined by what I do and the skills I have. I am defined by my ability to make others react in a particular fashion, esp laughter. But do any of these things define my value? If they do then we immediately enter into our own caste system where people are ranked according to value. You cannot tell me this doesn't happen in Christian circles too? Even Paul had to address it in the church at Corinth, explaining that no one gift was better than the others. For us? Look at the Hallenstein and Glassons clones that inhabit our worship teams... and heaven forbid a speaker should ge tup on stage in jeans and a t-shirt (unless of course there is a suitable Christian alternative label to be worn).
Now I"m not knocking all these things (well, yes I am). I'm just at the point where I cannot use them to measure my value.
God doesn't work like that. He can't work like that, because then his love for me is dependent on me and that is doomed to fail.
You can't complete this sentence "God loves me because I _____" you can only say "God loves me because He _______"
that is our foundation, that is our cornerstone. That is the fundamental, underlying simple truth that God has been whittling me down to.
He loves me because he_____ I have no say in the matter. I can either reject it, making God a liar or I accept it as the constant on which to rebuild who I was designed to be.
The answer I'd love to give, especially as a Christian, is no, of course not, but the more I look around at the Christian Marketplace the more I see this isn't true. Consumer churches, generic interchangeable worship teams, sermons-in-a-can... Are we any different? Yes, we offer Jesus, but can we do it without the Hugo Boss and cosmetic war paint? How come I get the feeling there cool Christians and uncool ones? Didn't Jesus come to break down those barriers?
If we hold on to the secular measuring stick what can we possibly hope to offer the 'ugly' 'stupid' and 'unlovable'? I use those words harshly but with good intent. Does God love me because I'm intelligent? No. Funny? No. Attractive? No. If I was to wake up tomorrow blind, dumb, deaf and paralysed. I Know Jesus would still be at my side with his arms around me.
So then, all these measures that I hold so tightly to, become irrelevant, which is terrifying, isn't it? For they define the very core of me, don't they? I am defined by what I look like. It means I can be told apart from others. I am defined by what I do and the skills I have. I am defined by my ability to make others react in a particular fashion, esp laughter. But do any of these things define my value? If they do then we immediately enter into our own caste system where people are ranked according to value. You cannot tell me this doesn't happen in Christian circles too? Even Paul had to address it in the church at Corinth, explaining that no one gift was better than the others. For us? Look at the Hallenstein and Glassons clones that inhabit our worship teams... and heaven forbid a speaker should ge tup on stage in jeans and a t-shirt (unless of course there is a suitable Christian alternative label to be worn).
Now I"m not knocking all these things (well, yes I am). I'm just at the point where I cannot use them to measure my value.
God doesn't work like that. He can't work like that, because then his love for me is dependent on me and that is doomed to fail.
You can't complete this sentence "God loves me because I _____" you can only say "God loves me because He _______"
that is our foundation, that is our cornerstone. That is the fundamental, underlying simple truth that God has been whittling me down to.
He loves me because he_____ I have no say in the matter. I can either reject it, making God a liar or I accept it as the constant on which to rebuild who I was designed to be.
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