We need someone to carry the pain

It's a day to ponder suffering, with a crown of thorns and a whip laid on a table saying CRUCIFY HIM!

And I'm trying to understand that a man can see his father tortured and executed, while his hands cannot escape the grip of their captors. How he must have fought to free them. That his tearing guilt is for failing. And surviving.

He goes back, he tries to help. He cannot keep away from the place that wants to kill him. He cannot surrender. His sleeplessness torments him. His gut-turning memories are more real than now. He's there, rather than here in the room.

It feels flat and strange as I turn it in my mind. And I think I'd find it hard not to giggle because I do that when I can't believe what's happening. I concentrate on symptoms because the story is too terrifying to let it be the focus of  my attention. I'm protecting myself. I make a plan to hear more and let this installment slowly absorb into me, at a manageable pace.

His story is just a sock in my load of washing. I heard it at one-thirty and there's another by three. I fold it and lay it on the orderly pile. Ready to be placed in the drawer, because compartmentalising is the way. And I'm just putting away the stories that I listen to. There's millions more. How many of the seven billion stories contain pain?

Could one man carry all that pain? that guilt? all those stories? Perhaps that why he cried out, forsaken.

I have to shut drawers and pack carefully for my listening, otherwise I would disintegrate. Perhaps you do it, too. We're surviving, aren't we?

Sometimes we need to stop. Ponder the suffering. Then we can really see what this world is about. That we need someone to carry the pain. And it's not humanly possible.

A faithful life

The funeral today was for a woman who has lived a faithful life. She has been having palliative treatment for cancer for six months and, four weeks ago, the funeral was for her husband. I can only imagine what it is like to see both your parents die within a month.

Her sister's husband looked stooped and worn today, his smile broad and sad-eyed. Her son's ex-wife will be more alone without her. She was praised by her doubting son for her faith in God and His love for her.

This family draws people from all through our community together. Gathered today, I saw the butcher who retired last year, the 'girls' from the chemist, people who've moved away from our church many years ago. They are well known for their extended family meals, their camping adventures and their loyalty. There's a prison officer who mows their lawn regularly because he remembers the years they let him live among their family.

The couple, who had been at our church for forty years, had loved many people, through youth groups and boys brigade, sporting teams and after school care, neighbourly love and inviting homeless young people into their family. They had seen the boom times and the broken times of our church and had served on, despite many people moving to bigger or newer churches.

They are well loved, because people had felt and seen the generosity of their love.

They were never celebrities and they lived a quiet life. They faced many hardships, losses and disappointments, particularly through chronic illness. But they didn't let those hard things shape them, they never became bitter or angry. Instead they continued to praise the God who loved them and to love people around them.

Sometimes I long to be recognised and for people to know the good I do. But that's not what a faithful life is about. I hesitate to start a heresy, but perhaps the most famous Christians are not necessarily the most faithful.

It may be faintly cliched to wonder what people will say at my funeral one day, but I do hope that however quiet it is, that people will say that I have lived faithfully.

Needing mercy

<sup>Irritation makes her bark and bristle, so I lean closer. I speak softer and I skirt raw spots as we trace her story. She lived a childhood unprotected, and has lived it over and over again. She's not the only one who teeters on the edge of shouting or shaking. They are here, drowning in a welter of loss. Everyone seems to have lost. A husband, a childhood, peace of mind, safety. Gone where?

His polished smile and prepped answers draw me in. It's a performance he's perfected. He's saying its all OK now, but is it? Does gut-tearing shame heal like changing the TV channel, or from reading inspiration in the Women's Weekly? He almost convices me that it does. But when he speaks real, honest words, I can see he's on the edge, too. Of tears. Of giving up. Of seeking real change.

This place of pain and of struggle and the wrestle between life and death. The mingling of despair and hope, where all I can add is my pittance that 'it will be OK'. And this says nothing substantial, or solid, to cling to.

I can listen, too. Especially to the feelings and thoughts that we're not supposed to have. Like being angry at your husband who just died, leaving you to mop up his life. Or that you wish you were dead because the hole you are in feels endless, and dark, and crushing.

So many rules about how we should feel, how we should act, how we should live. I think about religious men questioning why Jesus didn't follow certain customs or rituals, and his answer I'm reading over and over. Puzzling how to absorb it and live it.</sup>

^{I desire mercy not sacrifice.}

^{It's not the healthy that need a doctor, but the sick.}

<sup>What does it mean to live a merciful life, and then also know that I'm one of the sick, too? A merciful life, but not a proud one.

Remembering that I'm welcomed in the same way - embraced with my messy heart and unruly feelings - needing mercy too. Us and them just doesn't work. It needs to be me among all of us. All of us sinners who need mercy. All of us lost, needing to be found. Everyone sick and needing a doctor.

linking with emily...</sup>

Feasting on truth

It still surprises me when time speeds up. I swear it accelerates. I've got one thing I need to do tonight, and I'm sitting here perusing what the webosphere has to offer. Was that just an hour? It felt like ten minutes.

We had spaghetti for dinner tonight, and I just can't leave any in the pot. Seconds is not very elegant, but don't tell them that I had thirds over the sink. Don't even mention the white shirt I've spattered with bolognaise.
I lose myself in things I enjoy. You too?

Interests and ideas flicker and evolve. Today's thoughts give way to tomorrow's inspirations, and I drop truth amongst thousands of other pretty, glittering concepts under my feet. Perhaps I disguise it when it doesn't suit and ignore it when it accuses me. It's hard to cling to truth when it's not politically correct or when it's dowdy.

But can you furnish a heart without truth? Can your heart function if the truth is buried under all the unnecessary clutter?

Truth allows a heart to have purity and clarity.

A vexed concept, truth, when we look with human eyes that want to prove our points of view and justify our own behaviour. Who can we trust to vouch for truth?

The popular answer is to say that each one of us needs to discover our own truth.

But the bible points to one truth. Jesus, who proclaimed himself God. Jesus, who is our window to see the truth of God. Jesus, who said truth was the road to freedom.

Paul wrote to tell his friends, "And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise" in Philippians 4:8.

What is more lovely, true, pure and right, than the story of God in our lives? Jesus and his words, on paper between us, sharing bread between us, sparking our memories of him, seeing the grace of Jesus echoed as people live his truth.

I picture feasting on truth. I see myself engaging so deeply in the truth, in reading it and listening to it, seeing it, that the hours seem just like minutes. It drips from the tip of my chin because I am savouring it so deliciously. It spatters on my shirt as I suck it between my lips like spaghetti. Messy but so satisfyingly good.

It makes me regret the snacks I make of truth. Like accepting a couple of crackers and a piece of cheese rather than a steaming platter of my favourite spaghetti.

Purifying my heart, getting rid of the clutter, means feasting on the good stuff and leaving the non-delicious fillers.

Just wondering...

I've got a question for you

We had a church meeting today and our pastor suggested that we think about becoming members (of our church). I've thought about it a few times over the past nine years, but never made the step of doing it. Our church has ten members but  about three times more associates (regular attenders who aren't big M members). Our church is part of the Baptist Union so membership requires baptism by full immersion.

Perhaps I should mention that the pastor making the suggestion is my husband. But anyway...

I have been baptised, in a childhood, Presbyterian fashion. When I was a teenager, I went to youth group, and then church, with some friends from school. At that church, I began to understand God's grace, and started following Jesus. I decided to take part in Confirmation and told my family and friends that I was following Jesus. That was more than twenty years ago. Since then I've graduated from University, worked at a different church, studied some theology, got married, had children, and done twenty years worth of stuff. For the vast majority of that time, I've tried to make decisions in the light of God drawing me into relationship with him.

So what would it mean to get baptised now?

If baptism is a sign of repentance and of new birth, shouldn't I have done it a long time ago? If I get baptised now, is it just for pragmatic reasons? Is that enough?

I ask myself all sorts of hypothetical questions about how other people will interpret the pastor's wife getting baptised. Maybe I just need to explain myself clearly. But I'm not exactly clear why I would be doing it.

Which explains why I'm still thinking about it nine years later.

I'm just wondering what you think. Do you have an opinion about the when, where and whyfore of baptism?

And do you have an opinion about how? Some would say my sprinkle on the forehead, and believing confirmation was entirely adequate.

*complicating factor* I haven't heard him say it directly, but I suspect my husband doesn't think it is. He's hedging in this discussion.

I'd love to hear your comments.

Being proper

Sometimes we believe the lie.

We think that there is a proper way, a right way to live this life.  Everywhere I turn are opinions about what I should be doing, how I should be looking, what I should be believing, how I should be thinking. Rules, opinions, have-tos wherever I live.

And it wears me down.

Don't misunderstand me. I still think that there are wise and foolish, right and wrong things we can do. I still think that there are virtues we aspire to and that character is important.

But my life does not have to look like yours. Or hers, or theirs.

And my life is certainly not going to be perfect.

I've been thinking about depression and the expectations we put on ourselves. Or the image of the good woman we try to live up to, the good mother, the good wife, the good friend...

And I think about my mum telling me that she was not "a proper mother", because she couldn't dare to believe that she, in her lovely, encouraging self-discovery, was sufficient and good enough.

What is a proper mother? Can you be one and get tired or worn or discouraged or frightened? Can you be one and not feel all those things? Do you hold it all together so tightly because the thought of not being "proper" or "good" just utterly breaks you?

The desire to do good can be a law that binds me and a rock bound tied to my ankles dragging me down.

But the story of resurrection transforms this...

It allows grace and mercy to transform this sinking rock-law into the freedom of a spirit-touched life. 

I am no longer living in my own effort but depending on God to help me live "good and proper".

And because you belong to him, the power of the life-giving Spirit has freed you from the power of sin that leads to death. Romans 8:2

Nurturing Fruit

wild plum

I found them unexpectedly. Three among newly planted daisies, one in the shadow of an overblown rose. One hardy, with a gnarled stem, defiantly at attention in the chook scratched yard. I remembered that chooks hate nightshade plants.

I walked back down the concrete steps, reached up to unhook a trowel, and I rescued them. Rehabilitated them in the vegetable patch. The best tomatoes I've ever grown, and eaten, have begun as upstart orphans. The perfect marriage of persistent stock and neglectful gardening (my art form).

So I find the fruit I want in unexpected places. Perseverence has sprung up next to laziness, and I am determined in my efforts at avoidance and my ability to ignore. I search out my spade and fork, and I dig perseverence clear. I gently lift it over the fence. Cradle it in a shallow hole between patience and faithfulness, and heap the soil around it. I try to remember to water and feed it. I pray. I need to pray it will grow.

I notice a yearning for growth is in the shade of a particularly bitter crop of words. Gaudy flowers of criticism that I pick and use to decorate my table. It's small but I hollow it out, too. A tiny yearning, desire to be more. Transplanted, it may lend a touch of inspiration to my wilting goodness.

There's a long way to go to make a fruitful garden. A lot of rain and sunshine need to fall. Garden with me please.

linked with emily




 

and ann 

Light to see

I climbed up the ladder to the top bunk. Teetered up to lie beside my lanky son. In the darkness, came his whisper. "How does my body go from awake to sleeping?" We followed the progression from quiet awareness, through softening muscles, stilling limbs, closing eyes, slowing brain waves, REM dreaming to deep, peaceful sleep. The cycle of shortening deepnesses repeated through the night that delivers us to meet a new day. The lessons learnt by newborns that make this calm slipping away so natural that we are not aware of our efforts as we do it.

It reminded me that so much of what we do is automatic, instinctive and not part of our conscious consideration. Some days I sail through with minimal awareness and hardly a nod to intentionality. I realise afterwards, the opportunities I've missed or the little things I could have done better.

The light dawns slowly. And I form these ideas...

To see clearly, I need to stop and look. I need to intend to use my eyes, and allow what I see to be a focus, not just the scenery to my life. I want to put useful pictures in my conscious mind, and then be moved by them, or let them change me. When I see something that is wrong, I want to feel compassion, and think of ways to bring help. The movement I want is from really seeing with my eyes, so that my heart and brain and spirit push my body to considered action.

To see clearly, to really see, I need the right light. Looking at the world in the light of God's love and of Jesus changes how we see things. Jesus' light survived the extinguishing power of death. It is a light that can search out and shine into any darkness. It illuminates rather than blinds. It highlights values like mercy, goodness, purity, faithfulness, humility and love.

The lights of this world shine off gold, money, comparisons, beautiful things, achievements and red carpet smiles. And the lies they entice us to believe are about how to be rich, how to be loved, how to be powerful and to trust in ourselves.

The light that God shines into our lives is unchanging. We just need to allow our eyes to become accustomed to it. To read his word, to see the cross of sacrifice and brokeness, the resurrection miracle that brings us into the light. To experience his mercy and love so that our eyes see the world bathed with his compassion and glory. To really see is to allow what we see to pierce us, to drive us to ask God to act and to rescue. To really see is to trust that God will bring his kingdom. To really see, is to look and see Jesus in each broken, human story before us, including our own.

The Word gave life to everything that was created,

and his life brought light to everyone.

The light shines in the darkness,

and the darkness can never extinguish it. (John 1:4-5)

Jesus said, "I have come as a light to shine in this dark world, so that all who put their trust in me will no longer remain in the dark." (John 12:46)

Sharing with Ann about really seeing, today.

Birthdays

I celebrated my birthday this week. Spring is perched on the windowsill, peeping in under the early morning blind, and pulling me outside to pick early peas - sweet, snap and snow. Winter lassitude is lifting and I'm hoping winter grumpiness will follow.

Spring reminds me of reading this reflection on consciousness and being born again. I am drawn to the idea that as we grow in new understandings, as our fellowship with and delight in God grows it is an experience of new birth. It is like the freshness of God's mercy each day. It is the memory of new steps in faith, or times of deeply knowing God's faithfulness, that I look back on like birthdays.

The circling journey of years is a way of reminding us of where we have come from. Of course, there are joyful and sorrowful reminders, but both are enriched by presence of God-with-us. And somehow, each time we pass that memory milestone it is indelibly marked by the new visits as well as the old.

I don't pretend to understand God and why he has made as he has made. But sometimes his wisdom is so apparent, when we can see its fruit in encouraging us.

Learning who to trust

"I don't need religion in my life." A slight glance at me and he qualifies the statement, "It's good for some people, but I'm fine without that."

A brief allusion to purpose, something more than the material and this life in the flesh, and the conversation has already moved on...

Then today was a day of choices, decisions and expressing opinions. A day of doubting my judgement, feeling inadequate, a deep anxiety that keeps thoughts ticking over, and over. Did I say enough? Did I get it right? Who am I to question, to change the plan?

I can't trust myself. I know, too well, my blindnesses, the gaps in my knowledge, my tendency to rush in and reconsider later. The times I speak quickly with passion then wonder if I've stepped on breakables.

Responsibility, wisdom and thoughtfulness are qualities I aspire to. But where does reliance on self become a symptom of pride or self-idolatry? Does my anxiety about getting it right spring from a desire to serve well or am I just self-obsessed?

Admit that the buck stopping with me, completely, is wearying and heavily burdensome.

I need the God-with-me taste of bread and wine in my mouth. To grasp the cornerstone truth of a Lord who knows best. He who sees the beginning, the middle, the end of the story all at once.

Rest is knowing that even when I don't know the answer, he does.

Rest is knowing that even when I get it wrong, he can make good of it.

Rest is the prayer that admits incompleteness, that I'm not fine without him. The prayer that puts the anxieties and obsessions into his hands and allows him to bear them, and me.

Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.”  Matthew 11:28-30.

photos from stockxchng.

Rain this week...

"When he sees how I yell at the kids, he must be disgusted with me..."

The words linger in the air as I realise that our time together has suddenly become real. Every week we four gather and we listen to the words of our maker. We ask for his help, we praise his goodness to us, we plead for the ones we love. We listen as his word rains on us and we try to let it soak into the soil of our lives. Hardly knowing the depth of our parched-ness, we allow trickles.

Eyes drift, minds wander, tongues search for the expected answer. Then it arrives, the truth shining like a glistening drop of rain. My friend looks to Jesus and sees disgust in his eyes, for her and for her broken-ness. The heat that evaporates each tiny raindrop before it can penetrate and refresh.

Compassion and love fills me as I listen, a tiny glimpse of the Father's heart, hearing self-condemnation and blame. She hides from the expected judging, disappointed eyes, and misses the look of grace, forgiveness, love.

I psychologise internally, but bite it in. No point in theorising, understanding humanly why. All that matters is to share the truth, the rain. God is love. Jesus looked into the eyes of a sinful woman and said "Neither do I condemn you".

For each of us, his broken body on the cross has shared the bitter, disappointment of our daily failure to love. Disgust is defeated. For each of us, his risen body brings the renewing, forgiving, spirit into our lives. A foretaste of pure life with him in a golden city, thirst-slaking from the spring of the water of life.

He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!" Then he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."

He said to me: "It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the one who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life. Revelation 21:5-6.

Father, free us from the things that steal the rain before it can soak in. Help us see our dryness and know your rain is falling. Help us know for what we thirst.

Uncomfortable truths

Marriage reflects some uncomfortable truths.

I really like being the one in the right. The one who is managing. The one who looks virtuous.

Sometimes I love that buzz of 'having it together'. Sometimes I even enjoy that my husband is having times when he struggles because I can be the one who covers for him.

WHAT?

How can I find even a skerrick if joy in the person dearest to me being sad or downtrodden? Why can I 'manage' when he is defeated?

Part of me knows that it is OK for him to need time and that 'managing' is what I need to do for the rest of my family.

But part of me likes to look good, for him to be thankful and realise what a great wife he has.

WHAT?

Real love does not delight in another's struggle in their pain. Real love reaches out to him, bears his burdens with him. Acknowledges that I am like him. I hurt and I especially hurt with him.

Real love does not rob him of the chance to be the one who rescues me and cares for me.

Marriage is teaching me that real love is sacrificial, and not about what other people think of me.

Marriage is a gift from God that will refine me, if I let it. If I can face what I see in the mirror marriage lifts before my face.

The God-with-us world

We live in a world where 12 year old sons attack step-fathers. They do it to protect their mums who have been beaten and broken again.

We live in a world where alcoholic, self-loathing fathers reject sons who have disappointed them. Or is it disappointment with their own inability to be the dad that they longed for themselves.

We live in a world where a shiny young man smokes pot to forget the loss of a mate or the fear of being someone he's afraid of. Someone he'd rather die than be.

A world where we are defined by our diagnoses, our inability to be responsible for our own lost behaviour.

So much fear, driving us to run, to fight for our lives or to just freeze in the headlights of the oncoming truck. Paralysed again.

We are harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. (Matt 9:36)

It's our confession Lord, that we are weak, so very weak.

But You are strong.

And though we've nothing Lord to lay at your feet, we come to your feet and say

"Help us along." (David Ruis)

What answer do we have for the world we live in?

I was reminded today, that our answer is, God is with us. We live in a world where no matter what story we live, Jesus accompanies us in it.

As we live through the tragedy of failure in our parents. As we realise we are alone in the midst of the people closest to us. As we force ourselves to get up and carry on with a heartsinking day. As we see our greatest fear rising before our eyes. As we struggle to breathe with the weight in our chests. As we mourn the us we wish we could be.

Suddenly the pain, the loss, the fear, the mundane-ness of this world is redeemed by the presence of the God of love. The present, perfect love that drives out fear. (1 John 4:18)

The God-with-us world.*

*Skye Jethani preached about the God-with-us world in his sermon 'Eye for an Eye' at Mars Hill Bible Church in November, 2009.

I praise and thank you, Lord, for

673.  children's laughter

674.  spaghetti bolognaise

675.  listening to Jack Johnson and feeling summer (thanks Jenny)

676.  Eurovision song contest (seriously - that German song made me dance)

677.  sour dough bread

678.  the farmers' market

679.  Lizzie loving fresh flowers

680.  homemade chicken stock

681.  finally taking the hems up

682.  pulling up weeds

683.  an early night

684.  spontaneous caresses

685.  living in a God-with-us world

God is enough

Do you wish you had known? That the you of today could whisper in the ear of yesterday's you. A warning? Some preparing or wisdom for what is to come?

Or does God just deliver the grace that we need on the day it's required?

Somehow he gently delivers patience and goodness ready-to-use if we would just open the parcel. Let down again, we face the choice to hurt back, or to plead with our maker for more of his enabling forgiveness. The narrow way is to turn from revenge, to decide not to injure when we feel broken and raw.

"Father, I did not know it would be like this." He hears our anguish, he weeps our tears, his heart knows the piercing wounds in your spirit. He is beside us when we have been abandoned. He dresses and tends the burns, the grazes, the deep gashing wounds with the salve of his presence, his empowering and his complete enoughness.

Truly, he has given us everything we need for the life reflecting him.

Today I am thankful for,

606.  friends sustained by Jesus
607.  heartfelt, fervent prayers
608.  autumn in the Blue Mountains
609.  peaceful sleep
610.  generous laughter
611.  browsing, unhurried
612.  friends with gifts, using them
613.  refining through suffering
614.  impossible refreshing from God
615.  coming home - walking in the door to hugs all round
616.  an unexpectedly good day at work
617.  walking at dusk
618.  the house in quietness

Experimental Theology: George MacDonald: The Real Emerald City

Take a look at this...

Experimental Theology: George MacDonald: The Real Emerald City

Sometimes metaphors to describe our experience of God and our relationship with God fall short. At some point they will break down. They are a pale reflection of knowing the true and living God, author of the universe.

The idea of God seeing us 'through rose-coloured glasses' does not stand up to scrutiny from the perspective of inner transformation rather than a cosmetic cover-up of sin.

This made me think (plus I do love a good 'Wizard of Oz" illustration).

Jesus Ascended

When Jesus' disciples had spent time with him, experiencing him risen anew, I wonder if they expected him to stay with them and to continue his ministry. I'm not sure that they had any idea what was planned for them. Where the gift of the Holy Spirit would take them.

In Acts, just before he 'was taken up before their very eyes', he tells them that they will recieve power to tell about him from the Holy Spirit. That spreading his story will be their purpose. (Acts 1:8)

Sometimes I wonder if I have completely lost track of my purpose. I share the heritage of the Jesus-story tellers. I carry his precious spirit in me. And yet I spend a vast proportion of my day thinking about such human things. I talk about so many inconsequentials while I could be telling Jesus-stories.

I forget the power which breathes within me. Not my own strength, but the presence and promise that allows me participation in the divine.

His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them
you may participate in the divine nature

and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires. 

2 Peter 1:3-4

My human, mundane, nit-treating, playgroup-craft-fudging, case-report-procastinating, last-minute-song-picking, too-easily-frustrated, unaware life can reflect Jesus. His spirit in me transforms my ineptitude and helps me see God. I am touched by his holiness every day.

Is it really Science vs. Religion?

Save Our Scripture - Make A Stand seems to have taken over my Facebook newsfeed today. I popped over and read Greg Clarke's article about biblical literacy being important in cultural/historical/literary understanding, as support for continuing scripture in schools. Some of the comments on the article and on the Facebook link were caustic and derisive. There is a fine line between critical evaluation and personal attack apparently.

I have also just listened to "All In The Mind" (Radio National show) podcasts from the World Atheist Conference in Melbourne, last month. PZ Myers, Richard Dawkins, Peter Singer and AC Grayling all spoke on the relationship between religion and science.

Not surprisingly, there was little sympathy for religion as an issue of faith and it was roundly dismissed as an academic discipline. The opinions of scientists who have academic credibility and are known to be Christian (eg.Francis Collins - previous head of the Human Genome Project) were described as having "cluttered up our understanding with pointless nuggets of myth".

I was surprised at the way religion was set up as a stereotype and then cheap jokes were made about it. It was obvious that these men had some factual information about biblical content, but their understanding of faith as a value which informs life, experience and choices was pretty limited.

Some of the ideas were...Science as a rational, quantifiable exploration of the truth is what rescues us from the lies and myths of religion. Science is directly in opposition to religion as a way of knowledge. "Faith is not information and it is antithetical to critical examination and honest understanding". It was a dualistic view of the world in which people either believe in "Science" or "Religion". To see them as mutually exclusive seems limited and rigid to me.

"Science is what we do to keep from lying to ourselves" PZ Myers

"Religion is the lies we tell ourselves to justify our biases" PZ Myers

I can see where both of these statements are evident, but the reality of the relationship between opinion, knowledge, gut instinct and critical evaluation is much more complicated. I know instances where scientific method has been used to propogate lies. I also know instances where religion or faith has been the means of identifying and then protesting about accepted human biases. Science was behind the push for eugenics in 1930s Germany while faith drove Wilberforce to work to end slavery, to name just 2 examples.

Where does this leave us? I am more and more convinced that all of us argue from instinct and our own experience - both of life and of knowledge. Some of us just dress it up better and make it look more logical. Deep down, no one has flawless logic and no one really escapes their gut and its drives.

Science is actually a great gift from God. The ability of the human mind to explore, postulate, test and observe are attributes given to us by a God who loves intricate beauty and complicated workings. But science is not itself a truth. It is a theory, a way to understand the world. Testable, repeatable but not infallible.

Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely. 1 Corinthians 13:12

image from stock.xchng

2 Reflections, Vaguely Connected

Numero Uno

Going back to work, I have been thinking about how I can invite Jesus to influence the decisions I make, the conversations I have and the people I see and work with when I am there.

Allowing God to be in every corner of my life and my faith to be evident to all is something I struggle to picture clearly and to put into action. I wonder whether I say enough to make clear the connection between God in my life and how I live, as others see me.

I want to live in a way that brings glory to Jesus and shows that God can touch our lives. However, I sometimes think that my life is more likely to raise the comment, 'She's a nice person.' It doesn't actually lead anyone to meet God in a world where there are any number of 'nice people'. And to some degree I am lying because I am not really that 'nice' when all of my life is under the spotlight.

I really want to know how I can be salt, or light, rather than just more sugar.

The second reflection

Apparently my generation (X) have a history of responding to sense of purpose in life, while the next generation (Y) connect more with the idea of authenticity, rather than purpose. I know that I have often reflected on the way knowing Christ has helped me to understand my life's purpose and that has given me a real peace and contentment in existence.

I would like to become more authentic - and by that I mean I would like there to be less difference between what I say/do and what I am - to express love because it is what I actually feel, not what I think I should feel. I want to spend less time thinking, 'What will *** think if I say _____ ?' and more time training my heart and mind to respond with love and light to any situation.

I have read 2 things recently and am trying to remember them, daily, while I puzzle out how to live them better.

Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. Philippians 3:8a.

Let the message about Christ, in all its richness, fill your lives. Colossians 3:16a

What do you think?

Today

I visited a Christian bookstore today. The word 'megastore' is probably appropriate. In fact, I was overwhelmed by the amount of material there. My mind was boggled with the thought of taking even a thousandth of the information there into its recesses. And then actually putting it into practice?

I had fun choosing lots of Christmas books for preschoolers, so that they can be the presents at our playgroup Christmas party. There were some fantastic books that really appeal to kids.

Tonight I am pondering the time, energy, resources (read money) that goes into producing books, CDs, DVDs, gifts, etc. There is no end to the writing of books, but in the end, are they all meaningful, just because they are 'Christian' books? Do they distract us from the real things that matter? Are people writing books to glorify God or themselves? Are there lots of people out there who just like to drive an agenda (the new Holden Agenda, a great car for pastors)?

Don't misunderstand me, I have read some great books and been encouraged immensely by some of them. Some people have deep insights and wisdom from God to share. But how do we sift through and find it when there is such a forest around the important trees?