Lest we forget.

Ever forgotten something important?

No, me neither…

It’s easy to forget stuff, isn’t it.  I remember turning up late for a History lesson because I’d forgotten my timetable and thought it was break time.  Embarrassing.  (Thankfully, this was when I was a kid, not in my teaching days…)

Someone asked me to book a taxi for them last weekend.  My response?  “I’ll do that right now, before I forget”.  But I forgot.  I have no idea how.  It just didn’t stay in my tiny little brain long enough.  Somewhere between my pledge to act immediately and my leaving the room to make the phonecall, I forgot.  Extraordinary.

But it’s important to remember things.  Not just the day-to-day tasks, but the events and history of our lives and the lives of those we share community with.  Our responsibilities.  Our successes and our failures.  Our memory doesn’t just often souvenirs of the past, it equips us for the future.

I’ll be writing a bit more about this over at http://www.bigbible.org.uk next week.  But for now, just a couple of questions.

What memories do you most treasure?

How do you remember things?

Stumbling Blocks [book] by Gavin and Anne Calver

I was sent a free copy of this book a while back, though there were no strings attached (just a ‘with compliments’ slip! ho ho ho).  I’ve been reading through it and I think it’s a fab book, so I figured I’d go ahead and do a review on it.

Called ‘Stumbling Blocks’, the book’s strap line is, ‘Conquering the stuff that holds you back.’  Gavin (National Director of Youth for Christ) and his wife Anne (a writer and editor) have written together and draw on personal experience to recognise and address some of the difficulties people have with and in Christianity.  There are eleven chapters, each covering an issue that causes struggle.

The eleven issues seem to have been identified as areas of struggle simply because either Gavin and Anne have found them to be so, or because they have seen others struggle with them.  I’m sure there are others that people could raise, but the breadth in the book seemed good to me, and addressing everything that causes difficulty for people in the church would probably require a few more volumes…

I found the chapter on ‘I hate church’ (ahem) particularly helpful.  The problem is presented, and then solutions are suggested.  But the solutions are not simply, ‘if you’re not happy with church then you need to…’  they also address how we as the church need to ‘do family’.  “We mustn’t keep claiming to be a family if we don’t behave like one.”  The challenge is not simply for those who are stumbling, but for those who need to help.  This chapter in particular brings out the importance of the community that church is.

Other chapters cover things like cynicism, doubt, broken dreams and fallen idols.  Eleven stumbling blocks, and a whole lot of wisdom about how to deal with them.

I suspect that many in the church are struggling more than they let on.  Indeed, even the church itself and the Christians in it can cause a lot of heartache.  But books like this can really help to address some of that struggle and heartache.   I’d really recommend it, not just if you are struggling with a stumbling block, but if you’re ever likely to (!) or if you’re ever likely to be trying to help someone else who is.  I figure that’s pretty much all of us…

I’ve still got a couple of chapters left to read, but if anyone wants to borrow it when I’ve finished, let me know.

Sometimes I wish God would shout at me.

Is that weird?  Probably…

But as a dad, I occasionally resort to shouting.  (As a tired dad, it becomes more frequent … I’ll come back to that).  For example, this morning, Little Boy was sat in front of the CD collection.  Toys are available, but on this occasion, offered no interest.  So, there he was, holding his bottle in his mouth (yes, I know, he should be using a cup) and, with the other hand, reaching up to the CD storage.

‘No sweetheart’, I said.

His hand went down.  Briefly.

‘No sweetheart’, I said again, as he reached up once more.

And down his hand went again.

The next time, I even added, ‘why don’t you play with your toys’ to my sweet rebuke.

It wasn’t long, though, before it was ‘FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE, NO!  LEAVE THEM ALONE’.

Big boy had a similar interaction with me regarding dressing himself this morning (if it were a newsreader describing international relations, they would have used a phrase like, ‘the situation is rapidly deteriorating’)

And sometimes I find myself wishing God would do that (though I suspect I’d cry).  Because, like my sons (I suspect there may be some sort of link there…), I’m not always very good at getting things right first time, or even second time.  I wonder if I might respond better with a good hearty roar from heaven.

But the fact of the matter is (given my boys are probably a pretty accurate reflection of myself) I would, in all likelihood, take one of the following options:

1.  Shout back and

• Change the subject
• Point out it’s His fault really
• Say I hadn’t heard the first time
• Make an utterly irrelevant point in my defence

2.  Go to my room and sulk
3.  Cry and carry on doing (or not doing) whatever it was I shouldn’t (or should) be doing.

But, because I get worse at the whole shouting thing (and everything else) when I’m tired, I also find myself questioning the validity of the approach.  Perhaps I need to pay more attention to modelling (the example-setting type, not the Calvin Klein type) life and following Christ’s model, and less attention to barking orders.

Is it just me?

Cross Examined [book] by Bob Seidensticker

Two points to make first.  One, I was sent a free copy of this book to review.  Two, if you click on the link and go on to buy the book (and you’d be the first person ever to do this to anything I’ve ever linked!) then I get a small amount of commission.  If you don’t want me to get commission (and so delay my retirement to Barbados), feel free to use another method to purchase the book.

This book is written as an undermining of Christian intellectual arguments.  It is a novel, but in the dialogue between key characters, arguments are presented and then attacked (though the word attack suggests aggression, which there isn’t really much of in the book!)

In the original email I received offering me the book, I read:

Whether you consider yourself emergent, missional, organic, or just plain willing to engage, Cross Examined is a rich opportunity to engage the worldview of an atheist with depth who’s conversant with Christianity.

Bob Seidensticker has certainly gone to a lot of effort to present a clear defense of atheism, and in many ways he does this well.  For those interested or involved in apologetics, there might not be may surprises, but the atheist character in the novel, ‘Jim’, is eloquent and clear without the aggression of, say, Dawkins.  Pascal’s Wager (the, ‘you may as well believe in God because if you don’t and you’re wrong, you go to hell, and if you do and you’re wrong, you just end up living a nice life and then die without knowing you were wrong’) is all very well, for example, but once more than one religion exists, it rather crumbles…

However, I think I have a problem with this book.  That is, Christianity is not just attacked intellectually (which I don’t mind – Christians need to be well equipped in apologetics).  Rather, Christianity is undermined through the presentation of the key characters in the book.  There are basically three characters in the book:  Samuel, a church leader; Paul, his ‘apprentice’ – an ex-orphanage rescue project; Jim, an agoraphobic atheist.  The atheist is someone who you want to feel sorry for, because he has been wronged by the church, his life history is painful and Christianity has driven him, in many ways, to the brink.  The pastor of the church, on the other hand, is borderline megalomaniac (this may be a more American view perhaps; I’m not sure we have the structures in place to foster too many megalomaniacal church leaders here in England…) and will happily trample the needs and emotions of others to pursue his own vision.  For example, he tells Paul, who has been visiting Jim:

“Visiting this man takes away from your work.  He’s a diversion—discard him.”

This doesn’t seem like it should be words that come from the mouth of a pastor.  Now, I know as well as anyone (either inside of outside the church) that Christians can be the absolutely worst adverts for Christianity, but I think there’s only one Christian character in the book that I can think of that comes out of it all looking like a decent member of the community.

There are also occasional lines that present what I would consider to be slight distortions of the truth.  For example, Samuel says to Paul, ‘The Bible makes clear that an eternity in hell is what awaits the person who falls away from the church.”  I would disagree with the end part – ‘falls away from the church’.  Perhaps the author was trying to convey ‘rejects God’, but that’s not what he has Samuel say in this example.  I suspect this was deliberate.  Later, we’re told, ‘Faith is permission to believe something without good reason’. (Later still, we’re told, ‘faith is belief despite a lack of evidence’)  Again, I would argue that faith is based, at least in part, on reason.  If you had no reason to have faith, you wouldn’t have it, would you?

We’re also told, through Jim, ‘Think what a waste the entire universe is if the goal was simply to build one tiny home for humans’.  Whilst I can follow the apparent logic in this, I wonder on what grounds precisely the universe is a ‘waste’…

Further on, Jim argues,

Who would even consider worshipping a make-believe god when he was cared for by the very Creator of the universe? The only explanation is that the other gods were actually tempting, that they looked similar to the Israelites’ god

That’s not the only explanation, is it?  Isn’t that like saying, ‘who’d be tempted to be unfaithful to their wife when they’re the most beautiful woman in the world’, or even, ‘who’d be tempted to eat unhealthily when they’re offered the finest healthy fare’?  Surely part of our problem is that we’re tempted to do things that we really shouldn’t, however illogical they might seem.  After watching The Matrix, I, feeling emboldened and mostly invincible, decided to walk on the edge of Kingsgate Bridge [do NOT try this!!  It's stupid and dangerous]

Kingsgate Bridge, in Durham.

It was something I really shouldn’t have done, but that didn’t prevent me from doing it.  The argument above suggests that I woudn’t do this.  Yes, it’s true to say I shouldn’t have done it, but I did.  Saying, effectively, ‘people wouldn’t do something illogical’ is, sadly, untrue.

Paul ends up rejecting Christianity (don’t worry – I haven’t completely ruined the book for you!  There’s more to it than that.)  And this is part of the narrative:

He thought back on the shackles he’d left behind. Only in the intensity of the debate had he finally seen the world through godless glasses.  He’d been a misfit within the church, but the defect wasn’t with him but rather his belief.
The medieval Christian constraints were gone. He felt a door to the twentieth century swing open, and he entered a rational world governed by intellect and logic.

Now, I suppose it’s inevitable that, as an atheist himself, the author would present it like that, but still it illustrates for me the underlying assumption that Christianity and Christians are backwards and (to a varying extent) bad.  Maybe I’m being hypersensitive, but that’s my take on it

Finally, I’m not sure what to make of the ending.  If someone could explain it to me, I’d be much obliged…  I put it down to sleep deprivation, but I honestly can’t work out quite what the author is trying to convey…

To be honest…

I just don’t want to wait.

Yesterday, I spent over 40 minutes waiting for something which then didn’t happen.  It was frustrating.

I don’t think I’m being unreasonable – it’s not like I want it all.  But I do want it now.  I want to be fitter, but I don’t fancy the process of getting fitter.  I’m longing to be holy, but the process can be laborious at times.  To an extent, I can merrily blame the culture.  We send emails and expect immediate responses.  We tweet and check for replies.  I remember a teacher training session I was in where we were told (and I’m a bit hazy on the precise stats) that teachers often only allow students a third of the time needed to process a question properly.  We ask a student a question, and if they don’t answer within three seconds, we change the question, or ask someone else, where actually, they might have been able to answer if we just allowed them time to process.  We need to wait.

I was lying in bed a couple of nights ago, thinking it would be nice to have a grace download from heaven (this is not a technical term!).  Just lying there envisaging an invisible flood of something-or-other washing over me and making me feel wonderful.  I didn’t fancy waiting.  I didn’t want to benefit from anything other than instantaneous results.  But sometimes waiting is needed.

And then I read the latest offering from God52.  It just told me to stop.  Simple as that.  In some ways, no challenge at all.  Not going anywhere requires no effort.  Not doing anything requires no effort.

Or does it?

Being told to stop this past week was about as likely as good old King Canute being able to hold back the tide.  And yet, waiting is a biblical instruction.  Resting, waiting.  And so I was reminded that, even if this week isn’t a week where I’ll be kicking back and chillaxing, I sometimes just need to be willing to wait.

Over to you.

Do you find it difficult to wait?

Is there a time when waiting has led to a particularly memorable reward for you?

I am Caleb.

[This post started life as a post I was writing as part of my bigBible series on Spiritual Disciplines.  However, as I wrote, the post drifted further and further off topic, and I could neither stop writing nor bring the words back under control, so I kept writing, then moved the post here and wrote a completely different one for bigBible]

I am Caleb and Joshua.  Fearless, bold, focused.  Trusting.  I am not the other ten spies.  They were wimps, morons.  They couldn’t see God’s faithfulness and screwed up Israel’s future.  I mean, do any of you even remember their names?  They’re written down in Numbers 13 for all to see.  But they’re forgotten.  Only their role is remembered.  They persuaded the Israelites to fear people more than they feared God.  Caleb and Joshua, on the other hand,

…tore their clothes and said to the entire Israelite assembly, “The land we passed through and explored is exceedingly good.  If the Lord is pleased with us, he will lead us into that land, a land flowing with milk and honey, and will give it to us.  Only do not rebel against the Lord.  And do not be afraid of the people of the land, because we will swallow them up.  Their protection is gone, but the Lord is with us.  Do not be afraid of them.

And so I am Caleb and Joshua.  I do not fear men.  I do not fear problems.  I most certainly do not rebel.  There’s only one problem…

I’m lying.

You see, all too often, I’m more of a Shaphat than a Caleb.  More of a Nahbi than a Joshua.  The people in the promised land really are quite big.  They really are quite scary.  And yes, I’ve seen the same lovely stuff as Joshua and Caleb, I’ve tasted the same delicious grapes and pomegranates.  But I’m just scared.  Ok, so I might have exaggerated the size of the people currently in the land, but they’re no pygmy tribe, that’s for sure.

You see, a family I love is going through a tough time and it weighs me down.  A community I cherish is in distress, and I take an emotional battering.  I shift my focus onto the problems and begin to forget the Provider.

Maybe if I’d spent the week leading up to spying out Canaan at a big exciting event like Spring Harvest or Soul Survivor, I might have been a Caleb.  But maybe not.  The Israelites had had a varied run up to the spying mission.  There were a couple of exciting things, like an almighty dumping of quail on the camp and a cloud hanging around to indicate when to move and when to stay put.  There was the dedication of the tabernacle, but maybe when you’ve seen one silver plated weighing 130 shekels, you’ve seen them all…  Then there was the little spat with Moses on one side and Aaron and Miriam on the other.  There was also the little matter of God nuking the fringes of the camp (a downside of living life on the edge, if ever there was one…)  Surely this might suggest an act of aggression on God’s part…  And so God’s people could happily construct an argument for holding back from the invasion plan God had suggested.

Two trusted, ten didn’t.

But what about me?  I need to learn to trust God.  When I went to Spring Harvest half a lifetime ago, we sang, ‘though there be giants in the land I will not be afraid’.  God promised a land flowing with milk and honey, but He didn’t promise an easy ride to take possession.  He also promised His people that they would not be going alone.  And neither do I.

Home again.

Indulge me, will you?  It’s another blog post about home.  I know, I’ve written about it before, but it’s a bit of a thing for me, I guess.  And the great thing about blogging is that I can write away merrily and see from the stats that a few people have read the post, while blissfully unaware that they read the first three sentences and then got bored.  That means I can write what I want without worrying that I’ve bored you.  This is a distinct advantage over face-t0-face communication, where, when people have got bored after three sentences, it’s all too clear from their glazed expression and I have to decide whether to shut up and put them out of their misery, or plough on and indulge in a bit of character building for them.

Anyway, I digress.

This one has been inspired by the blog of a friend of mine.  In order you make the most of this post, I’d recommend buzzing over to Cecily’s blog first.  It comes in three parts:

1. An email from a TCK* about the pain and difficulty of leaving your ‘adopted’ country to return to your ‘homeland’
2. Cecily’s response to this.  (This is well worth a read if you are a TCK, work with TCKs, have any intention of ever meeting a TCK, etc., etc.)
3. A response from the TCK to Cecily’s ideas.

Anyway, I was just going to tag a comment onto Cecily’s post, but my head started swirling with enough ideas for me to blog about them.

First of all, so many of the experiences expressed about the difficulty of making the transition matched my own.  I remember a complete moron of a kid at school asking if I spoke ‘Pakistanish’.  The look of disdain I mustered (the best my scared little 14 year old self could manage) probably disuaded him from asking any further questions.  It was only when relaying the story to my parents that it was pointed out to me that the kid wasn’t a complete moron, just someone who hadn’t been brought up in Pakistan and was none the wiser as to what the language was called.  My disdain may have put off a kid who was just expressing a genuine interest (something that didn’t often happen).

The pain, the weariness, the dull ache, the sadness, the loneliness.  If you know anyone who’s making this sort of transition, do everything you can to help.  Listen to them.  Ask questions.  Be there for them.

Then the advice.  Really wise words from Cecily.  Some will be based on successes, others on mistakes made, but all great wisdom.  First, recognising the transition as loss and grief.  Without this, the approach taken is likely to be flawed.  The desire to look long term helps too.  For me, too, the long term view has now extended to eternity (though I don’t think I particularly thought in these terms during the process).  I accept the homesickness because I know it doesn’t just look back to what has gone, it looks forward to what is yet to come.

If you’re going through this sort of transition, check out the advice.  And if you’re supporting someone else through it, check out the advice!

And finally, the response.  The pain of the process.  The joy of recognising that someone else has a grasp of what’s going on (and perhaps even ways to tackle it).  The creation of rituals.  Even this week (21 years after coming back to England) we had curry night which included an ace egg curry we used to have in Pakistan as well as a Chicken Karai that came from a recipe cooked in a favourite restaurant of ours in Pakistan.  These things reflect the heritage we have.  Wherever we’re brought up, whatever our life experiences, we have a heritage that we carry with us.

Most of all, that the pain will be over one day.  Of course, this is true of the transition from an adopted home to your passport country.  But for Christians, this is also true of the journey from our earthly home to our eternal home.  That homesickness for a restored place with God.

 

 

*Third Culture Kid (In Christian circles, these are often Missionary Kids) Someone who’s grown up in a ‘foreign’ country, but that country often feels more like home than their passport country.