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Archive for July, 2006
Just got home from the Forge “Postcards” event in Fitzroy this evening, and heard from Baxter Kruger – author of “The Great Dance” (thus the title – and thanks Bec for the correction!). He has an interesting take on what the whole Christianity thing is all about, which I quite liked some of until I had my thought patterns interrupted by discussion. Then I lost what I was originally thinking and think that I missed a lot of the good stuff.
But basically, to strip it all down to bare bones, Kruger’s basic ideas were that God meets us in our humanity, and that the sacred-secular divide is a made up one, and that Christ wants to meet us in the things that we love, and in the role we fill in society. Which as a starting place – I’m more than happy to give a big tick to. I have no doubt that our separation between what is a God thing and what is just us doing stuff has been made up. God is interested in meeting me in my workplace as much as in my home as much as in my church.
One from one so far. Kruger then takes this a few steps further (and this is where some of my details get sketchy and I’m sure I’ll have messed this up, so if you’re a fellow attendee, please correct me here), and almost seemed to say that this puts all of us already in a relationship with God, in the things we do that we just feel like there’s something bigger, that he is in those and the only difference is whether or not we recognise what God is doing in that. Now that’s a poor reflection on what Baxter said, mainly because that was the part that I struggled with.
To be brutally honest, I think that there’s an element of this being the message that people want to hear. While I have no doubt that God often speaks through the things that we enjoy, I think there’s an element in there of us wanting to find good excuses to go out and do fun stuff. Which is not to rule out what he was saying, just that I think there’s a little bit of people-pleasing going on here.
It’s all a bit of a muddle in my head – I’d love to hear back over what was said so that I can get it clearer: I’m pretty sure there’s a lot more of value than what I got down in that first bit. But all in all, another opportunity to expand my theological horizons, and that can’t be all bad now can it.
Zidane’s brain explosion all over the front of Marco Mazerratti’s beautiful blue jersey was a flash game waiting to happen. Check it out.
….and it didn’t take long to go down either. Looks like too many like-minded people linked to it and it’s gone.
I’ve had a remarkably fortunate existence: at the age of 22, there are still very few people I know who have died. I still have 3 out of four of my grandparents. The only one who has died is my paternal grandfather.
Understanding my grand-dad helps me understand my dad. Dad’s not the same as grand-dad, not even close, but there’s no doubt that the things that Grandad stuggled with have had a huge impact on dad. And the things that grandad was good at, you can see in dad. There are so many beautiful memories of time with Granddad. Whenever we visited, he had a row of houses on top of a shelf. He would lift us up and we could lift the roof off and we’d get a lolly from inside. Grandad would easily have as much fun as we did. He knew how to spoil us.
And I can’t think of visiting Daylesford without playing a game of Yahtzee with Grandad. He had an orange plastic cup, with red plastic dice in it, with white dots on and slightly rounded corners from over-use. I was so happy the day that I remembered how many points it was from the top section to get the bonus: and grand-dad gave the most beautiful smile. Even when I was seventeen and visiting, we still played Yahtzee together: the grandkids and grand-dad.
Grandad taught me how to do multiply by 11 when it’s a large number. You just add the two digits together, and put the answer in the middle. So 11 * 35 = 385, because 3 + 5 = 8. I remember in year 7 in Jersey, being told to turn Grandad’s magic rule into a formula. It was then that I eventually worked out how it all worked. I was so impressed at how Grandad had made something that seemed so tricky, so absolutely simple.
Where most of my other relatives would be impressed by how I was going at school, or how playing footy was going, Grandad was much more interested in just spending time with us. I remember spending a whole afternoon and most of the evening just shelling peas. At the start Grandad would pretend to give you a disapproving look when he saw you eating one. But then you’d see him eating a whole handful, and giving you a mischievous smile and you knew that it was your secret together.
For the last ten years that I knew my Grandad, he thought he was going to die. He felt useless because he couldn’t work in the garden, or couldn’t have a job, and didn’t feel like he had a place in soceity. He did well to last as long as he did, he used to have lard on toast for breakfast, and for most of his life he smoked like a chimney. Any time you spend time with that family, the Grandad shaped hole is palpable. I’m not sure what inspired this post, but I miss him.
I didn’t want to feel like this. For so long I’d been disciplined, reminded myself of the hurt, told myself that it wasn’t worth the pain, even uttered that most unsavoury of sayings for a Tigers’ man: “Maybe we’ll come ninth”. But it has been harder and harder to resist. There are only so many times that you can utter “what’s going on?” and “we are not really a good team” when they keep winning games. Unfortunately, love conquers all.
Deep down, I know that I shouldn’t have, but once the words have come out, there is no putting them back. Saturday evening, having tracked most of the game on the “live scores” bit on the AFL website, I mumbled those most dangerous of words: “we could make the finals this year”. Straight away, I knew I shouldn’t say it. But it happens every time. I’m a hopeless romantic at heart…. the optimism has to come out eventually.
The signs are good. We’ve won games without Gaspar, without Richardson (and with Richardson not playing huge parts), for the first time since about 2001, we’ve got a ruckman who is able to dominate games, and we are playing to a game plan; albeit an often unattractive one. It is a sign of the demoralising effect from years of ineptitude that making the finals would be an awesome achievement. But maybe, just maybe, this might be the year for it to happen….
Richmond 14.8.(92)
def.
Port Adelaide 6.18.(54)
As much as the world cup has been exciting, and good to watch, it is hard not to be disappointed to see Italy win the World Cup in a penalty shoot-out. The nation who had already had a significant amount of luck with the “Elfmeter” mark, who it was very hard to feel had deserved to be there, to then go through off the back of a shoot-out.
The Italians only really played one game that made you think they might deserve to win the golden orb: their win over Germany was a brilliant game to watch, although disappointing to see the Germans go out in such a tight game. It it a funny game, and like life in general, there’s not always a lot of justice. But it’s over, and with no Wimbledon on either, it should be easier to get some sleep now. 
My head was in such a funny place this morning – there were all sorts of things happening: flow on from yesterday, needing to get youthy stuff organised for the upcoming term and also some other stuff that will eventually come out in the wash. Due to getting most of the way to church and realising that I hadn’t shaved (which was important today), I ended up walking in to the building with church having already started.
Not an ideal preparation. Which makes the next bit all a bit baffling. From the moment I started singing the first song, it suddenly felt like there was only one thing going on right there and then. Maybe partly that had to do with the music being really exceptional this morning (which maybe it was) but I’m pretty sure that it was just really that through whatever, God just suddenly met with me.
Now those of you who were there and who are avid readers, will know what’s coming: either the last or second last song was my absolute all time favourite hymn (and probably worship song full stop): “How Great Thou Art”. (it got a mention the other day in my happy songs list) And it pretty much overwhelmed me. “Then sings my soul, My saviour God to Thee, how great thou art”. Every time that line starts, it really does feel like it’s my soul that’s singing.
Sorry that this is a bit of an incoherent ramble, I was just blown away by the wow-ness of the whole experience, and even though I’m not coming close to expressing it properly, wanted to have a go. Yay God!
Well, in the words of Homer Simpson – “my brain hurts“. I’ve spent the whole day at the induction for the Master of Arts in Church Practice – the course I’m starting at Tabor. Although I won’t actually be spending any time on campus, it’s much too cool a course for crazy things like actually attending the college. For more about the course, either go to the Tabor site. I’m too lazy to re-explain.
It’s going to be pretty full-on. There’s some pretty bright people doing it, and there’ll be a fair bit of work in it – but I really do love the whole emphasis of the course – “theology in context as it relates to the local church”. Can’t think of any better way to approach bible college type study. And I’m still equally enthusiatic (well, proabbly even more enthusiatic) having met the people I’ll be doing it with.
There was an interesting thought brought up, and my mind is still trying to wrap itself around all that we were chatting about. But this stood out: that our theology needs to be considered against the context it is in; in light of our own experiences and the church tradition. So we don’t do theology in a vaccuum, but instead have to consider any questions against what we have done in the past: filtering out the non-essentials and keeping the quality, and recognising that the needs of today are not the needs of yesterday.
I think I’ll need an early night tonight – to cope with the expansion of my brain.
Well my “Top 21 words that are fun to say” has got me in the mood for some lists. And given that I’m happy today, and listening to music, here is my top 6 songs to play when I’m happy.
- “Sweetest Thing” – U2. This is the sort of song that I love when I’m happy, and when I’m not, can just mke me more unhappy. But you’ve gotta love it. “Ain’t love the sweetest thing?”
- “Mack The Knife”. Deliberately left out the artist because it doesn’t matter much. Frankie Sinatra, Michael Buble, hey, I even like Robbie Williams’ version. This is one that unless you’re at work or on a train, you’ve just gotta sing along to.
- “Prisoner of Soceity” – The Living End. Not a particularly joyously themed song (“We don’t need no-one, to tell us what to do”), but a rocking fist pumper of a song, that makes you want to rock out like nothing else.
- “Short Skirt, Long Jacket” – Cake. A bassline to die for (bow, ba bow ba bow, ba bow bow bow bow bow bow), and classic lines like “I want a girl who gets up early; I want a girl who stays up late” it’s a real dance around the house song.
- “Bohemian Rhapsody” – Queen. Do I really need to say anymore. Regularly invokes involuntary karaoke, regardless of environment. A classic in the truest sense of the word.
- “How Great Thou Art”. Gives me a “triumphant” feeling when I’m belting out the chorus like no other song I know of. Hairs on the back of the neck stuff. Pure gold.
So, what have I missed out on? What songs do you play when you’re happy? Don’t be a passive mute – how boring. Contribute. Be part of the global conversation.
Saw Pirates of the Carribean last night – and was pretty disappointed. I wasn’t quite as massive a rap for the first one: I do think that some of the enthusiasm was overblown, but there were quite a few parts in Pirates that left a lot to be desired. Orlando Bloom should one day have a fight to the death with Hayden Christiansen and Keanu Reeves to decide who is the more wooden, because I find him almost unbearable to watch. It consistently feels like he’s reading from a not-particularly-well-written script. And while Keira Knightley might have the market cornered for pouty english actresses at the moment, she certainly left quite a bit to be desired.
As you’d expect Johnny Depp turns in a really decent performance, despite not always having a wonderful script to work with. Regardless of the specific kind of eccentricity, if you were casting a slightly strange male lead in a film right now and hadn’t had a crack at getting Johnny Depp in to do it – you would be kidding yourself. He is very good. And the stuff with the cool tentacle beard on “Davy Jones” was pretty cool to say the least. But I even thought that some of the special effect stuff let itself down in a couple of places – there was a couple of moments where you started thinking that you were watching animation: not the ideal.
And so that this isn’t just a straight movie review, this article from “Out of Ur” (a consistently good performer blog from the Christianity Today people) has some very valid points on the way christians react to movies, and looks at some of the reasons behind it (although I think they are over-stating the badness of the Pirates film). Pretty fair comments, and while I’m not really one to get out the placards and protest against any movies, let alone Harry Potter or Pirates of the Carribean, there’s no doubt that as chrisitians we need to be consistently evaluating why we’re “opposed” to some things and allow others. Where you draw these line I’m not sure, but at very least when you do – they need to be straight ones.