Who is my neighbour?

People in the first few years away from home learn a lot of things through experience. Through scrapes they didn’t see coming.

One young man took a train to another town to spend New Year with some Uni mates. Now, he was totally skint, having blown his loan and interest free overdraft on Christmas presents for his family and a real sitar he saw on ebay. Fortunately, his mate had promised to put him up and buy him drinks for the night, so he was on his way.

He’d got to about Colchester when he noticed his phone had switched itself off. He turned it back on just in case his mate had sent him a text. Plans were pretty vague – he’d just ring when he got there and his mate would come and pick him up. ‘I’m only 5 minutes’ walk from the station.’ Fine.

Then the young man noticed his battery was low. Ok. Let’s turn it off now so it’s definitely got enough when I get there. He’ll probably have a charger at his house.

The young man sauntered out the station in his check shirt and best jeans, ready to party. He turned on his phone and rang his mate. Answer phone. He tried again. Answer phone. He started writing a text... the phone died. He got to the Nokia screen before it died again. Oh dear.

The young man had never been to this town before. The street lights were pretty dull, and there were already plenty of drunk groups swaying past. A little guy in a beanie was slumped on a bench, talking to himself. No cash either. He figured his mate would work it out soon enough - especially with two missed calls - and come pick him up.

30 minutes later. No sign of his mate, and it was getting cold. Worse, he started feeling his chest tighten. Not now. It had been a couple of years since he last had an asthma attack, and he assumed he’d got over it.

A minute, 2 minutes, and he was bent over, straining for breath. Panic had set in. He desperately tried to breathe deeply but nothing came. A bunch of skirts passed. ‘Help,’ he gasped. ‘Asthma’. They cackled at him and kept walking.

The young man turned back to the station entrance. One attendant was locking up for the night. He tried to pull himself together and communicate clearly.

‘Help… asthma.’

‘Sorry, I’m afraid we’re not allowed to give out inhalers.’

‘Please…’

‘Why don’t you just use a paper bag?’

Then the attendant was gone. The young man looked around. Nothing. He grabbed a timetable, then tried breathing through his shirt. No good. He collapsed against the wall. His vision was starting to fizz...

An inhaler hovered in front of him, an arm behind it. The young man grabbed the thing and shoved it in his mouth. Oh…

When his vision recovered, the young man saw his saviour was the little guy in the beanie. He smelt of stale beer. And the guy was staring at him; full on; without a blink.

The young man handed the inhaler back. ‘Thanks,’ he said, still breathless.

‘Hold onto it,’ the little guy said. ‘You still need it.’

‘It’s not my prescription,’ said the young man.

‘You’re still not breathing right.’

The young man gave in, and took a couple more pumps. The little guy was still staring at him. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked the young man. ‘Why don’t you have your inhaler?’

‘I left it at home. I don’t need it very often.’

‘I saw no one would help you. You need help, don’t you?’

‘I’m here to see my mate, but my phone died and he hasn’t picked me up.’

‘So what are you going to do now?’

The young man started to say something, then stopped. ‘I don’t know’.

‘You don’t want to stay here. Those drunk people will do anything to you.’

The young man was still cautious. He asked the beanie, ‘Have you got some change?’

The little guy looked pleased, and started patting his pockets. Then his face fell. ‘No.’

‘Don’t worry mate,’ the young man said; then coughed violently. ‘Something will turn up.’

‘I can show you anywhere you want to go. I really wouldn’t stay here. The police will come and you don’t want them to find you.’

‘Where else is there to go?’

The little guy thought hard for a second, then relaxed. ‘I can put you in a hotel.’

‘What?’

He was getting a little excited by the idea. ‘Yes. There’s a Travelodge by the river. I’ll use my credit card. Yes.’

Now the young man was feeling bad. ‘No… you can’t.’

‘What? Why not?’

‘Because… It wouldn’t be right.’

‘What wouldn’t?’

‘…’ The young man realised there was no good way to say what he was going to say, so he didn’t say it. Another gust of wind shivered through him, rattling his ribcage. ‘Thank you. I’ll come.’

At the Travelodge, the beanie man was undeterred by the lack of attendants and called out. ‘Is anyone going to serve us?’

Eventually a young girl in a uniform sloped in. ‘What do you want?’

‘My friend needs a bed for the night. What rooms do you have?’

‘We’ve got a couple.’

‘Are they comfortable?’

‘They’re all the same.’

‘My friend has asthma. He needs a comfortable room.’

‘They’re not the Hilton.’

‘But they’re comfortable?’

‘Yes they’re comfortable.’

‘Okay, one night for my friend. Does that come with breakfast? He needs a good breakfast too.’

‘No, you have to pay for breakfast.’

‘Right well I’ll pay for a breakfast now as well then.’ The guy looked back at the young man, sitting there with his jaw on the floor. ‘And anything else he needs, give it to him. I’ll pay when I come back tomorrow.’

The little guy in the beanie handed over his card, and the young man got safely home. He never saw that guy again; but he could never see the world the same either.

Band of brothers

I've spent the last few sunday nights watching the TV Series Band of Brothers with some mates. A sober experience, but a good one. A few things that made a big impression on me:

1) This is not another world. Some of these guys are still alive. It is not fantasy. People organised and ran the concentration camps. Maybe there was a particular evil at work in Nazi Germany, but it's still got to give us some serious questions about the nature of humanity.

2)There were a number of events in the series that made me angry, and I think that's appropriate. Some things are unjust and should not be allowed. The concept of 'holy discontent' is a handy thing going round church circles: 'If it makes you mad, that's probably because you're supposed to do something about it.' But in the face of sickening injustice in our world, 'holy discontent' is insufficient. We need righteous anger*.

3) Pacifism is not necessarily always right. Saving Private Ryan really hammered this one into me. Film is a contrived medium making a point, and it maybe the film has convinced me of something that isn't true, but you can read a logical argument of the point if you can get hold of CS Lewis' essay 'Why I am not a pacifist'. Essentially, I experienced for the first time the realisation that I could kill. Theoretically troubling. Yes. But in certain circumstances, perhaps the appropriate action. I'm not going to try and define those circumstances! And I hope I never have to kill anyone. But I also hope that I never lack physical courage in a situation where it's needed.

4) Two heads are better than one. Both on screen and in our freezing lounge, it was obvious that doing things with other people is far more enjoyable than alone, even if less efficient (I actually think like that. Isn't it shocking!) I got completely overwhelmed with the last performance I organised, and watched as God sent me people each day to lighten the load. Made me realise I'd been trying to do it all alone again. I confided this to my friend Simon and he said yes, stuff is always more enjoyable done in team. And in fact, the family is like the ultimate team. When I potter round the house for an evening doing bits and bobs, I get in a wierd negative fuddle. When Simon does the same with his family, it's lovely. This is the reason the thought of 'going travelling' on my own fills me with dread. The misery is only 'part of life's rich tapestry' if you've got someone to joke with about the horror (when I went to the Great Wall of China, the 7th wonder of the world, it was covered in cloud. Me and my sister decided it should be called the 'shy wall of china'). Throughout my time in Uganda in 2009 I was thinking, 'next time I'll come with my family and it will be much better still'. And at this year's Everything conference, Andy Crouch described in detail how it takes several groups of people to make a vision become reality. Never just one person alone. I've got to learn.

Now I wonder what I'll learn from The Pacific...

*Thanks Chris and Lorna!

Who can go to Africa?

When you think of adventurers in Africa, what do you picture? If you're like me, you picture a young single or a hard bitten single reporter. But not a family. So I found this article stimulating reading.

I can understand why you wouldn't think this was a good idea, a good thing to do with your kids. But if you've got confidence that your safety is in the hands of a mighty Father, and if you're not holding tightly to your comfort, then doesn't it get you going.

I'm lucky enough to have had cousins live in Tanzania when I was a kid, and that my parents didn't value our comfort over our ability to really experience life: we went over for christmas when I was 12, and my sisters were 10 and 7. I haven't stopped going since.

Because of that trip, and other less glamorous but more risky choices my parents took to follow Jesus, we've got stories that will set us up for a life time of adventure. And surprisingly, I think I'm not that unusual. Many, many of the adventurers I've met in Africa have been families just like mine, actually living there long term. And loving it. They may not feature in the films, but families are out there changing the world.

Scumprobe reports

For fellow fans of CS Lewis' book, The Screwtape Letters (I think I once described it as 'a proper christian book - makes you laugh then kicks you in the balls'): A new letter...

Foolishness #3

It's another poem from Steve Turner today. Ties in very well with those thoughts I had on foolishness, so we'll get it down before that's completely forgotten...
gg
7/8 of the Truth, and Nothing but the Truth.
If you are sitting comfortably
I suspect I am not giving you
the truth.
I am leaving you two poems
short of disagreement
so that you can remark upon
the likeness of our minds.
I am being kind.
I am giving you the truth
in linctus form - strawberry flavour.
I am being unkind.
am ignoring the correct dosage.
g
I want to be liked.
That's my trouble
I want to be agreed with.
I know you like strawberry,
I quite like it myself.
It's nothing but the truth
but it's not the whole truth.
gg
No one admires the whole truth,
No one ever applauds.
It takes things too far.
It's nice but where would
you put it?
People who neglect the strawberry
flavouring, do not get asked back.
They get put in their place,
with nails if necessary.

Ouch poems

I'm continuing my homage to/theft of Steve Turner. Tonight, another of my favourite categories of his poems. Poems that make me go 'ouch'. Let me show you what I mean:

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The God Letters

The Lord God says:

'Share your bread

with the hungry,

bring the homeless poor

into your house,

cover the naked.'

gg

Dear Lord God,

We have got

new carpets,

so this will

not be possible.

gg

gg

See what I mean? Try getting through this one, without an ouch:

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Lord, Lord

You were hungry

and I was sorry.

You were thirsty

and I blamed the world.

You were a stranger

and I pointed you out.

You were naked

and I turned you in.

You were sick

and I said a prayer.

You were in prison

and I wrote a poem.

gg

gg

How many of those have you done? I count 5 for sure. The naked guy at the crossroads in Jinja wasn't just short of clothes, and I don't think trying to turn him in would have been a good idea, but still...

gg

On several occasions I've pointed out one lady who sleeps rough in Norwich as a way to look smart. It is very easy to let caring become just my job. Or, realistically, to carry on working and stop caring. Not that my feelings matter. But when I stop caring I stop trying to actually help people and just try to run a tight ship. That could keep me busy my whole life. God forbid. Please.

Short poems

I was weak last tuesday night and slipped into the amazon. I emerged an hour later having bought 5 books and 2 CDs. That's the cosumerist trap I'm stuck in. Ah well, it does have some advantages: I finally bought a book of poems by Steve Turner and I'm loving it. He's like my favourite bits of Brecht and Blake, with an even more similar worldview. Let me share some of my favourites.
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Tonight: short poems.
gg
Short poem
Short poems
are fun.
You can see
at a glance
whether you
like them
or not.
gg
gg
Depression
Came here
to write
a poem
on depression
but
gg
got fed up
and left.
gg
gg
Sticks and stones
Sticks and stones
only break your bones
but words
can tear your heart out.
gg
gg
History Lesson
History repeats itself.
Has to.
No one listens.
gg
gg
Gun
What is a gun for?
A gun is for making things.
What does it make?
Orphans, widows,
grief...
gg
gg
Wait
These are
the good
old days.
gg
Just wait
and see.
gg
gg
Truth
There's no
such thing
as truth.
gg
No.
Not even
this.
gg
gg
Prayer
Fell fast asleep
While saying a prayer.
When I woke up
Found God was still there.

See Africa Differently

[We had our show last night. It was great. Here's what I wrote about it, my 'director's note']

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I love Comic Relief.
I love the occasion of it, that takes people out of their normal life.
I love staying up late to watch it (I still haven’t gotten over the novelty of that!)
I love the excitment as the programme goes on, and more and more money comes in.
I love Africa.

However, having spent some time in Africa, I realise there is a bit more to it than what we will see on TV tomorrow. Africa isn’t just a place that needs our help. In fact, there’s a lot we can gain from them. That’s part of the idea behind tonight’s show. To see Africa differently. In fact, Comic Relief actually have a website called ‘SeeAfricaDifferently.com’. Thanks for the idea, guys...

We tried to find out a load of stuff about Africa to give us ideas for making the play. You can see some of the stuff on this board. We discovered that Africa has it’s own Hollywood, it’s own The Apprentice, it’s own X-factor... And in one video we watched, a guy said he hoped that one day Africa would have it’s own Make Poverty History concert for Europe. So we’ve tried to imagine – as well as we could (none of us are Africans!) – what that would be like.

One of the things Africa is great at is community. So we’ve tried to make a bit of community here tonight. We hope you enjoy it. We hope you have fun. We hope you make some new friends. We hope you enjoy our show even more than tomorrow night’s. We hope to see you again soon.
Thanks,

Tim & all at Loose Change Theatre

Foolishness #2

I am guilty of being too reasonable.

I was in our church meeting this Sunday morning, and we moved from drinking tea and chatting, to the band getting up, someone getting enthusiastic on the microphone, ‘let’s praise God’... Inside, I was groaning. I felt like a teenager watching their Dad busting a move in front of their friends. I was embarrassed about worshipping God.

Here’s why I was embarrassed. However cool the music, praise is just not normal, reasonable behaviour. One time, my next-door-but-one-neighbour pulled up in his Alfa Romeo and asked me who in our house did all the singing [Two doors down].

“Um... that would be me. Sorry.”

He honestly said, “No, it’s very good. Are you practicing for something?”

Ah. That one made me pause even longer. How on earth can I explain this so he actually gets it, and so I don’t sound like a complete weirdo who deserves no lenience when my guests park in his space? Here’s what I came up with:

“Er... not really. I’m singing.. to God.”

He actually didn’t seem at all fazed by this answer. Maybe it makes more sense to him than me. Maybe there’s something wrong with how I feel about this.

On Sunday morning, I realised public praise times aren’t the only Christian thing I feel embarrassed about. I feel embarrassed about the youth theatre I’m doing in Mile Cross – I feel like we’re coming in to build our own thing and constantly getting help off other people without giving anything back. I’m realising that’s not true because I’m noticing people are pleased to see us.

I feel embarrassed about sharing my story of Jesus working in my life with folk at our drop in, because they’re living hard lives. I feel embarrassed writing on here, and I try and phrase everything ultra-carefully so that people who aren’t Christians don’t think I’m wierd.

I even rehearse arguments that back all this up – saying ‘it’s important to communicate in a way that un-churched people can understand’, to ‘be culturally relevant’, to ‘make the good news understandable’...

The arguments aren’t wrong. But I think I fixate on them for the wrong reasons. I come at them to save my embarrassment rather than to help other people. I tie myself in knots trying to present my faith as reasonable to the world around me.

This is so completely the wrong way around. It’s making the opinion of the world the ultimate master on my actions in the public square. I won’t do things that this master wouldn’t like. The master is in my head, saying yes to this and no to that. I relate to Jesus at this master’s indulgence, as long as it doesn’t interfere with the way he runs his house, UK society.

And as I try and describe what’s going on inside me, it begins to sound rather familiar. The prince of this world discouraging the sons of God, trying to keep them out of the game. I’ve been conned. I’ve been had.

Here’s what Marcus said on Sunday morning: “Is there space for anything on the throne as well as Jesus? Every day we’re getting asked this.” The answer should be, ‘no’.

My perspective has been completely wrong. YHWH is the King. The earth is YHWH’s and everything in it. The fate of the world and everyone’s in it will be decided by Him, only. What is right and wrong, appropriate ways of behaving, are determined only by Him. Whether people like it or not is up to them. Some will get it and some won’t. It’s not up to me to manage people’s reactions, to work out the best way to bring them into the kingdom of heaven. That’s God’s job and I should stop trying to do it for him. My job is to do what he tells me. To only answer to him.

It is ridiculous to let my life be controlled by what society thinks is right. Society doesn’t have a clue. It’s the blind leading the blind, and it’s wisdom can be judged by the results – the happiness, contentment, harmony, justice, equality, flourishing, and value we’re all experiencing. Not.

I’ve been under the thumb of the world. I’ve obeyed it rather than obeying my Father who loves me. I’m no doubt going to keep doing it, too. I feel a bit mad about this. I want to feel a lot madder. I don’t want to stand for it any more.

Foolishness #1

"For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written:

'I will destroy the wisdom of the wise; the intelligence
of the intelligent I will frustrate.'

Where is the wise person? Where is the teacher of the law? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know him, God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe. Jews demand signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength."
(Paul, 1 Corinthians)

“I reason myself to death, but I was saved by foolishness”
(Tree63, Foolishness)

Blood Brothers #2

So clearly people from working class backgrounds could use a bit of solidarity at the moment. We get into problems when we don’t recognise that we have some cultural differences. You expect it when going to another part of the world, but for some reason when we’re in the UK we expect everyone to behave just like us. If you don’t recognise the differences you can end up judging people for not behaving how middle class values say you should (e.g. ‘chav’-bashing); you can assume their difficulties are due to laziness rather than society dumping on them since the year dot (what do you think about people who go to the job centre?); you can attempt to be helpful and achieve the opposite because a) you do things to people and so disempower them further or b) you put things on and don’t understand why no one’s interested (e.g. doing Alpha in homes in the east end, when no one ever goes into each other’s houses there).

Your class doesn’t necessarily correspond to your wealth. It is more to do with a different outlook on life. Working class culture is not worse for you than any other culture. However, in our country, it is mostly working class people who are bearing the brunt of poverty... and that is bad for you!

A note on poverty. Poverty isn’t just about having more or less money at any given moment. I’ve had a few lean times in my life – when my Dad’s business went bust and he was bankrupt for a few years, and more recently working voluntarily for over a year on diminishing savings and money out of the blue from the Father. But I’ve never really been disempowered. I’ve still got the benefits of a great education, great work experience, a strong network of family and friends, wisdom for handling money/decisions/work/etc, self-belief instilled by loving parents, confidence in & intimacy with the living God, all the nice clothes & goods I’ve picked up through the years... so although I left Kampala with £20 to my name, I wasn’t really poor. My future was as bright as ever. I could easily see how I could get to anywhere in life I wanted to go. The point of poverty is that 20% of people in this country can’t.
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So.. in our different classes, we are equal. The question Willy Russell poses to us through Blood Brothers is, why then do people from one background get opportunities when the other doesn't? How can that be allowed? What can we do about it?

I haven’t really mentioned much about Blood Brothers. I just want you to go and see it. If you can afford to, you probably need to. It will help you understand this so well, and be a lot more fun than reading this dry blog. So I'll leave you with a real taste...

Blood Brothers #1

Did you ever hear the story of the Johnston twins?
As like each other as two new pins.
How one was kept, and one given away,
And they were both born, and died, on the very self-same day.

I went to see Blood Brothers again the other week, and remembered why it is possibly my favourite musical. It’s not really for the dancing. Rather, great tunes... and a story about real things.

The gist is that a wealthy lady persuades her cleaner to give her one of her twins, as the wealthy lady hasn’t been able to have children. We then follow the two boys as they grow up, and see how the simple fact of growing up in different backgrounds makes their lives turn out tragically differently. The narrator closes with this thought:

And was superstition to blame for what came to pass?
Or what the English have come to know as ‘Class’?

There is a lovely moment in The West Wing, when the young Jed Bartlett comments to his father’s secretary, “In our family we don’t talk about money.” To which she replies, “That’s because you have money.” I think class works similarly. If you don’t think you have a class, if you don’t think it’s an issue, that’s almost certainly because you’re middle class, like the majority of people in the UK.

A great easy way to find out the blind spots in your own culture is to ask people from other countries what they are. They will be able to think of a few! One which often gets mentioned for us in the UK is this issue of class. In America, a millionaire and a hot dog salesman will talk the same way, watch the same sports, have the same values and wear the same clothes. Think about millionaires and men on burger vans in this country! Someone said class is in the UK what racism is in the US.

Now just because Trade Unions and working class political heroes seem to have faded from the TV since the 70s, it doesn’t mean the working class have gone anywhere. In fact, I would guess that life is tougher for people from a working class background now than ever. Consumerism, snobbery in popular culture, the export of industrial jobs, the decline of ideas how to do life through rejection of tradition/authority/values, and hopeless corrupt administration of welfare policy by the civil service have completely disempowered working class people. 20% of the UK population is now overwhelmed by unemployment, addictions, broken families, isolation, lack of education, depression, anxiety, low self esteem, crime and criminal records. This is an issue worth thinking about.

The most special person in the world

You’ve been very good to me
Really you have
I can’t fault your kindness
Giving
Time
Patience
Grace with my mistakes
Your door wide open to me
You hug me when I come inside
A blanket to my sharp edges
Soft Warm Strong

You’ve listened to me with wisdom
We’ve sung and we’ve strummed
You’ve opened up your passion
Let me stay all day long.
But when a night like this comes
I’m no more favoured than another one
I remember you’re just a friend far from home
A man with his own damn worries
A miracle really
That you loved me so well
For a moment there I forgot
I’m not your son
I’m not the most special person in the world.

So thank you for listening
And letting me down
It hurts like an avalanche
I’m muffled in its wake
But hearing my heart as clear as a bell
I don’t need you to love me
Don’t need anybody who could love me so well
I forget it isn’t true
You’re not my dad
I’m not the most special person in the world.

I’m not greedy to want more
I’m desperate and weak
If I don’t get it properly I’ll turn out a thief
Wrenching kindness from any in sight
By show offs, hard work, sleight of tongue
My disbelief will grow
And you won’t get a chance to love me at all

Alone, yeah
And despairing
Until I hear the words
Only one can give
That I don’t deserve

“Tim, you’re my son”
“Yes, you’re the most special person in the world.”

Permission to speak #2

What does this look like?

After coming back from Uganda a year ago, I felt particularly liberated from some English cultural chains. I was talking to a guy I used to live with, but had never engaged in a conversation about faith. And it occurred to me to just ask him what he believed. For the next hour we were talking about deep perspectives I’d never heard from him before, I was sharing my story, others around were sharing too.. It was fascinating, it was fun, I felt like we got closer to realising reality, and at the end of it, my friend turned to me and said, ‘thank you for not pushing anything on me but listening.’ I deliberately started the conversation!

This is also why the Alpha course works. This is what The Guardian said about it: “What Alpha offers, and what is attracting thousands of people, is permission, rare in secular culture, to discuss the big questions - life and death and their meaning.” When you’re there, it is the easiest, most natural thing in the world to engage in discussion about Jesus. That’s what you’re all there for!

Finally, and for Christians this should be the clincher, this is what Jesus does in his 4 famous biographies. I used to like quoting St Francis of Assisi, ‘Preach the gospel all the time. Use words if you have to.’ And it’s easy to make general statements about Jesus that support your own argument, but don’t really match up to the evidence. But I feel confident asserting this one because it was something I didn’t believe that got challenged by, you know, actually reading the Bible for myself.

I was looking at how Jesus carried out his mission, and although in several months I got no more than a few months through his public activity, I discovered loads from that. Jesus didn’t just do what I thought we should – that is, not press the ‘god-conversation’, but not bottle it if it comes up. In fact, he constantly brings up the subject. (Have a look at John, chapter 4, for a prime example. If you need convincing like I did, have a look at Matthew chapters 4 & 8, Mark chapters 1-2, Luke chapters 4-5, John chapters 1-4.)

You know, I actually think we should be able to talk even more frankly about the ‘faith that helps us’ with our friends, colleagues, family, neighbours, than my doctor friend can. But in practice that does feel awkward as we’ve already said; and honestly, I’m not comfortable doing that yet.

My point is that at the very least, we can feel happy doing what doctors do, legitimately, all the time: let people know it’s okay to talk about faith, and see where the conversation ends up!

Permission to speak

I was at a birthday party last week. I was talking to a Doctor, and he told me something I’ve not heard before.

It’s much publicised how ‘they don’t let Doctors talk to patients about their faith.’ And we understand this applies to anyone in any profession, even to individuals talking with other individuals. It’s very reasonable to guard against someone in a position of power (like a doctor) trying to get something out of a person in that power. But the reasoning is not at all clear by the time it filters down to individual friendships, which shouldn’t be power deals at all.

The result of this is that many of us end up walking round feeling like we can’t talk to anyone about the amazing things that have happened to us because... we just feel it’s not ok.

This is potentially a problem for society because if some of its citizens are experiencing something others are not aware of (especially if they think something different is going on), then the whole of society’s understanding of reality is skewed. If this unknown experience is good, most people are missing out; and if it’s bad, the general population ought to be informed.

What my friend told me may help us. He said that when you’re seeing a patient, it can often be very helpful to know more about them than just their physical symptoms. We know that as human beings we have minds, bodies, emotions etc and all effect each other. However, this can make him feel the old taboo about discussing spiritual things.

So what can he do? Well apparently, the best way to have a discussion about other taboo subjects is simply to start talking about them as if you didn’t feel the slightest bit awkward. So when – as a doctor – you have to ask a lady about ‘ladies matters’, your patient will feel fine as long as you don’t do what I just did and make it awkward!

The same, according to my friend, applies to discussing faith. If he asks a patient straight out, ‘do you have a faith that helps you?’, the patient almost always happily enters into a discussion about their spiritual beliefs. This has led to interesting conversations with many people, including a particular Muslim guy my friend had really liked. It’s enabled him to do his job better and also, I believe, help people towards knowing the person who can help us with our deepest possible sickness.

So, as we normally extend the logic of social interaction from doctor-patient relationships, let’s do the same with this. If a doctor, who has power over a patient, can legitimately open the faith conversation by asking a simple question, then so can we. People want permission to speak.

'Red Moon Rising' by Pete Grieg

I’m reading this book and its making my heart shudder.
It’s bathing my head in light.
It’s bringing me to life.
I’m remembering my passion, like leaves in spring.
How long have I been asleep?

I used to check out the 24-7 website in the computer room at college. We used to stack the mammoth pew chairs for an hour so we could sweep the old sanctuary with art. We used to pump Sigur Ros through a bought-in PA as the house music. We used to walk around Shirley dreaming of our next project – making a record in an old house, in a week; our prayer wall; moshing and laughing and witnessing at school til the teacher moved me to the front.

I’d forgotten what heady times they were. The creativity. The opportunity. The community. Walking back from the Douglases. Talking outside our house for hours. You know, I’m beginning to think it wasn’t such a waste of time after all.

I guess the reason it all worked was because we loved Jesus. We loved Jesus and we loved each other. I guess we’re struggling because the cloud moved and we didn’t move too. I guess I don’t feel the same because I spend too much time on my own. Because there’s no one I’m dreaming with. Because I love mercy but I love creativity too.

Oh how we need to dream!
When we just banter we look backwards later and wonder where promises go.
We just survived this year.
We just coped.
We just about kept up with commitments that grapple our throats.
We escaped from it all.
We played at church.
Nonono!
Don’t escape, engage.
Don’t banter, dream.
How can we be counter culture if we’ve lost our imagination?
How can we fight when we’re dragging our pillows?
How can we sing if we’re chewing on steak?

Bertolt Brecht: 'To Posterity' #2

... Here's the poem:

1.

Indeed I live in the dark ages!

A guileless word is an absurdity.

A smooth forehead betokens

A hard heart.

He who laughs

Has not yet heard

The terrible tidings.

g

Ah, what an age it is

When to speak of trees is almost a crime

For it is a kind of silence about injustice!

And he who walks calmly across the street,

Is he not out of reach of his friends

In trouble?

g

It is true: I earn my living

But, believe me, it is only an accident.

Nothing that I do entitles me to eat my fill.

By chance I was spared. (If my luck leaves me

I am lost.)

g

They tell me: eat and drink.

Be glad you have it!

But how can I eat and drink

When my food is snatched from the hungry

And my glass of water belongs to the thirsty?

And yet I eat and drink.

g

I would gladly be wise.

The old books tell us what wisdom is:

Avoid the strife of the world

Live out your little time

Fearing no one

Using no violence

Returning good for evil --

Not fulfillment of desire but forgetfulness

Passes for wisdom.

I can do none of this:

Indeed I live in the dark ages!

g

2.

g

I came to the cities in a time of disorder

When hunger ruled.

I came among men in a time of uprising

And I revolted with them.

So the time passed away

Which on earth was given me.

g

I ate my food between massacres.

The shadow of murder lay upon my sleep.

And when I loved, I loved with indifference.

I looked upon nature with impatience.

So the time passed away

Which on earth was given me.

g

In my time streets led to the quicksand.

Speech betrayed me to the slaughterer.

There was little I could do. But without me

The rulers would have been more secure. This was my hope.

So the time passed away

Which on earth was given me.

g

3.

g

You, who shall emerge from the flood

In which we are sinking,

Think --

When you speak of our weaknesses,

Also of the dark time

That brought them forth.

g

For we went, changing our country more often than our shoes.

In the class war, despairing

When there was only injustice and no resistance.

g

For we knew only too well:

Even the hatred of squalor

Makes the brow grow stern.

Even anger against injustice

Makes the voice grow harsh. Alas, we

Who wished to lay the foundations of kindness

Could not ourselves be kind.

g

But you, when at last it comes to pass

That man can help his fellow man,

Do not judge us

Too harshly.

I want to write about this
but I don’t know what to say.
The problem’s not gone anywhere.
This could be said today.
I admire this man’s commitment,
and I feel the same myself.
But I’ve learnt it gets me nowhere.
I just feel overwhelmed,
then go and waste more money
to make myself feel better.
So what then can I do
That will really be effective?
I need some transformation
That will make me care for others
More than I do for myself
Any offers?

Bertolt Brecht: 'To Posterity' #1

Those of you who studied theatre at A-level will have heard of Bertolt Brecht. For those of you denied that pleasure, allow me to introduce you: Bert, Reader; Reader, Bert.

The guy lived and worked in Germany between the world wars, and as he saw how the aristocracy and big business oppressed ordinary people, he gradually became convinced of socialism. He was a writer/director, and tried to find a way to create theatre that would make its audience think about social problems – and change their lives – instead of just being swept along by emotion and then forget all about it. For that I’ve always counted him a sort of hero, and have tried to use his ideas a lot myself.

Among A-level drama students, he doesn’t have the best reputation. This may be because the average drama student thinks very little about social problems, but may be even more because sometimes Brecht’s plays seem a little.. well.. boring.
hhh

I have discovered myself that writing analysis into drama is pretty difficult to do while keeping it entertaining. Aaron Sorkin etc actually do it very well in The West Wing, by having passionate, MENSA brained characters hammer each other over political hot potatoes with the best they’ve got. Brecht would have liked that. He’d have called it, ‘dialectics’. Maybe that’s why people don’t like him.

I reckon The West Wing manages to make analysis entertaining because a) it’s funny and b) you’re emotionally involved. Now Brecht is full of comedy – dry, black, twisted, sarcastic, and slapstick comedy, like Woody Allen on a rainy day – but he is not known for his emotional side. I want to redress that.

The other thing Brecht is less well known for is his poetry. Yes, socialists write poems. Of course they don’t spend much time discussing ‘hosts of golden daffodils’. And the best ones don’t rhyme, scan or have even stanzas. But they’re great anyway. And plenty emotional. One of my favourites is To Posterity. Allow me to share it with you...

Trying to write a praise song 2

‘Moses went up on the mountain (The LORD)’

Moses went up on the mountain to meet with God.
God said, ‘I love you. Come closer. Tell me what you want.’
Moses said, ‘Show me your glory, Lord.’
God stood there with him, passed by him, and thundered his name.
And this is God’s name:

The LORD.
The gracious and compassionate God.
Slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love.
Forgiving sin and seeing justice done.

The people were grumbling, and God went to strike them down.
‘How long will they spite me when I give them all they have?’
Moses said, ‘Think of your glory, Lord;
‘The nations have seen you release them, now show them your grace.’
‘Just like you said:’

The LORD.
The gracious and compassionate God.
Slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love.
Forgiving sin and seeing justice done.

Because of your great love
Forgive the sin of your people Lord.
Because of your great love
Forgive the sin of your people.

David was ‘wanted’. An army came for his life.
He hid in the mountains with nothing but God on his side.
David said, ‘Show me your mercy, Lord.
‘Bring joy to your servant, come save me and give your strength;
‘For you are the LORD.

The LORD.
The gracious and compassionate God.
Slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love.
Forgiving sin and seeing justice done.

God said to Jonah, ‘Go preach to the superpower’.
Jonah just ran, til a storm and a fish turned him round.
The people said, ‘Show us your mercy, Lord.’
Jonah went crazy: ‘I knew you’d forgive them again,
‘Because that’s who you are:’

The LORD.
The gracious and compassionate God.
Slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love.
Forgiving sin and seeing justice done.

Because of your great love
Forgive the sin of your people Lord.
Because of your great love
Forgive the sin of your people.

You adopted a people and saved us from slavery.
You taught us to love you and gave us all that we need.
And then you showed us your glory, Lord:
Although we kept sinning you punished your own son instead.
There’s no one like him.

The LORD.
The gracious and compassionate God.
Slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love.
Forgiving sin and seeing justice done.

Because of your great love
We’re free; we’re free to enjoy you Lord.
Because of your great love
We’re free; we’re free to enjoy you.

Trying to write a praise song

A confession. In spite of all my 'too cool for school' attitude, I've actually wanted for a long time to write a praise song. That other people will sing. As a songwriter, you probably can't top that for good feedback.

However, although it is very easy to write a bad praise song (I know from personal experience), it is hard to write a decent one. And judging from most of what we wade through in church meetings, to write a really good one is very hard indeed.

This morning I managed to put words together for a song I’ve had hanging around for a number of months. I’ve got another I did recently as well. They’re probably the best bashes I’ve had at the praise song form. So that’s quite exciting.

I’d love to know what you think of them. Chiefly, would they help you praise Jesus? Is there any phrasing, ideas, approach that would get in the way of that? Obviously I’d hope there’s something beneficial in there, but I would like to get better so do point out any problems you can see!

Unfortunately I can’t give you an idea of the tune and accompaniment on here. Just imagine that it’s really good. Maybe I’ll play them to you sometime.

‘Cast your cares onto Jesus’
Cast your cares onto Jesus; he cares for you. (x2)
I’ll cast my cares on you Jesus; you care for me.

Don’t worry what you’ll eat or drink.
Don’t worry what you’ll wear or look like.
Don’t worry about tomorrow now;
Jesus Christ knows what you need.

If you thirst, come to Jesus and have a drink. (x2)
You’ll overflow living water from within.

Don’t worry about your pension plan.
Don’t worry how your life will turn out.
Don’t worry about tomorrow now;
Jesus Christ knows what you need.

If the birds don’t save, yet they never miss a meal;
If the flowers don’t need make up to appeal;
Then giving Jesus all your life, he’ll give it back a hundred times.
Just try.

If you’re weary come to Jesus, he’ll give you rest. (x2)
His work is easy ‘cause he carries all the cares.

Don’t worry you can’t do this job.
Don’t worry that no one will like you.
Don’t worry you’re not good enough;
Jesus Christ is all you need.

If the birds are unwaged, yet they never miss a meal;
If the flowers don’t need fashion to appeal;
If God would send his son to die;
Then what on earth would he deny to us?

Cast your cares onto Jesus; he cares for you. (x2)

The Ideas of the Dawn Treader #3

SPOILER WARNING – the following unravels the plot in some detail. If you’re considering watching the film, go do that now, then come back.

Idea #3 – Focus

When Eustace arrives in Narnia, every new experience is horrible to him because it challenges his idea of reality. The things that enabled him to get his own way in England – his intelligence, spitefulness, arrogance, and ultimately his parents who spoil him – are useless in this wider reality. They cannot help him with strangers, or face up to evil.

By contrast, Reepicheep delights in facing every new challenge, even though he is only a 2ft talking mouse. He actively longs to go into the unknown, ‘to the utter east’. This is a significant change in his character from what we saw of him in Prince Caspian, and can best be explained by his encounter with Aslan at the end of that film. He no longer fights with bitterness, to prove himself – he fights with delight, to get to Aslan’s country.

hdhd

Needless to say, it is Reepicheep above all who irritates Eustace. Everything Eustace despises, he loves. He represents to Eustace this whole upsetting revelation of reality.

Things come to a head when Eustace tries to steal some gold and is turned into a dragon. Although he manages to let the others know what’s happened, he despairs; he is as far from his ordered world as it is possible to be, with no sign that he can ever get back.. and this reality seems to hold no joy for him either.

Turning point. Reepicheep notices Eustace’s dragon tears. He stays up with him through the night, sharing stories of adventures, and his longing for Aslan’s country, For the first time, Eustace realises his need for someone else, and lets them in. And so, for the first time, he sees there is some hope in this reality.

Reepicheep persuades Eustace to face the terrifying prospect of evil and join the final battle, because his vision of hope - of ‘Aslan’s country’ - is so much bigger than that of the dark island ahead. And though evil has a couple more tricks up its sleeve, it is Eustace in the end that defeats it, after his own encounter with Aslan.

As Reepicheep heads off beyond the edge of the world to Aslan’s country, Eustace is distraught to lose him. His guide in hope is gone. But then he remembers he is standing with Aslan, and his tears go – he is face to face with the very object of his hope. And he asks if he can come back to Narnia again! In Aslan, he has found something that, unlike his parents and his own capacity, will get him through this wider world.

hhds

Our world is just as frightening a place as Narnia, and you’ve probably noticed the things that used to give you security becoming useless as you get older and become aware of more of reality. (If so, we’re the lucky ones – many people around us were born into chaos, and have never known security) Equally, time proves many of the securities we develop as we grow older – our looks, our abilities, our careers, our savings – to be redundant too. In the face of the real evil in our world; to face that that evil and overcome it; we need a security that will hold firm.

As the crew of the Dawn Treader waited for the darkness to strike, I felt a lot of identification with them. As I look ahead I see the strains of work increasing, my body falling apart, my dreams not being fully realised, the people I love most dying, and ultimately, death. Some of those things really scare me. I have no idea how I’ll cope. What could keep me secure through a journey like that?

The answer to the riddle is given us by Aslan. He tells the children, ‘in your world, I am known by another name.’

Now you probably knew this whole Narnia thing was about Jesus, and have some reservations about kids films with religious agendas. I think what gives me peace is that if people know its about Jesus, then they know and can do what they like with it; if they don’t know about Jesus. Then it won’t tell them.

What the story actually does is give me hope and joy. Because when Aslan appeared to Eustace on that beach and roared, all the troubles of the world grew strangely dim and I saw Jesus on the cross punching through the screen towards me, raw and warm and thick and alive and wild and strong and true and God. And I saw that he knows me. He’s shown himself to me again.
hdhdh

Oh what a relief. I am not alone in this present darkness. He is real and so all darkness must one day go. There is nothing to compare to him. I’m sorry I’ve spent a fortnight, a lifetime, focused on other things beside you. They’re all nothing – even my family here next to me. I love you. I want you. Jesus. You.

The Ideas of the Dawn Treader #2

SPOILER WARNING – these three pieces all unravel the plot in some detail. If you’re considering watching the film, go do that now, then come back.

dhh

Idea #2 – Manhood

Edmund is doing everything he can to be ‘a real man’. He tries enlisting in the British Army, does a bit of sword fighting, considers hoarding gold, tries to be the leader; and nothing works. He is still plagued by the memory of the White Witch and her offer to make him King.
hghfh

Ultimately, their adventure puts him to the test and he fights an epic battle with a sea monster. He survives, and finally feels that internal sense of ‘I have what it takes’; he doesn’t need Narnia anymore.

I know the idea that there is a ‘crisis of manhood’ about at the moment in our culture. I’m not equipped to say whether that’s true or not. However it does occur to me that boys growing up have always faced this identity crisis, and always will. ‘Am I a real man?’

I’m still going through this process. I often feel out of my depth in my job, leading many people who are older than me, maturer than me, with fuller life experience than me; or all the above. And that not only involves setting direction and encouraging people forward; leading also requires saying ‘no’, challenging and correcting. Gulp. I often don’t know what’s the right decision myself, let alone imposing that on others. It’s what the job requires, I’m happy on that. The question is, can I do it?

The funny thing is, my position is a something I clutch at to affirm my manhood. I love telling people what I do. I’m dead impressed with myself. But clearly, my job title isn’t doing the trick. If I don’t find another source of affirmation, it’s going to make me feel less a man rather than more.

Edmund’s perspective is changed by a rite of passage. This is not a very new idea. Cultures throughout history from Aborigines to University Hockey teams have put their young men through hell and back to establish their manhood. Perhaps we struggle in our society with our sense of manhood because there is no standard system for it. Or many opportunities to prove it full stop. I feel really ‘mannned up’ every time I go to Africa, with all the adventures and difficulties that involves.

Now, I don’t think its essential to duel with a sea monster to establish your credentials. But as we face up to the challenges that life throws our way, we will make the journey. And the more challenges we take on, the more we will ‘man up’.

However, this raises another tough question. How do I know I won’t fail at these challenges?

Donald Miller in his excellent book To Own a Dragon reveals the surprising true indicator of what makes a ‘real man’. According to him, a real man is someone... who has a penis. That’s it. You don’t have to like football or beer or fighting or facial hair. You don’t have to listen to Mark Driscoll or earn lots of money or be in charge of anything. If you’re reading this and you’ve got man bits, you’re the real McCoy. Because the one who gave you your wedding tackle didn’t forget the rest of the package. He made you a man. You’ve got what it takes.

The Ideas of the Dawn Treader #1

I just got back from The Voyage of the ‘Dawn Treader’. Now I can’t sleep. I enjoyed the film; it was a good adaptation of the story that translated the theme of the book well into a more effective story structure. Obviously you miss out on some of CS Lewis’ way with words, and get some clunky moments where the ideas outpace the writer’s ability to express them, but I can live with that. Because some of the ideas that we handled well touched me deeply and it took until the credits ran out to savour it, wipe my tears away and reengaged with my family around me.

SPOILER WARNING – the following three pieces all unravel the plot in some detail. If you’re considering watching the film, go do that now, then come back.

Idea #1 - Self Esteem

Lucy is struggling with her self esteem. Specifically, she longs to look like her older sister, because of them admiration and attention Susan gets. Lucy discovers a spell that promises to make her look like Susan. She tries it, and in a dream finds herself as Susan at a garden party, looking beautiful and getting admiration. However, she discovers that in this alternative reality the person Lucy does not exist. Suddenly the experience doesn’t feel so good.

efwefw

Aslan appears to her, and challenges her she is wishing herself away. He affirms her, pointing out some of her unique qualities and contributions to Narnia. She burns the spell. Later, a younger girl wishes to be just like Lucy when she grows up. Lucy tells her no. ‘When you grow up you should be just like yourself.’

Although this is presented as a teenage girl’s struggle, I massively identify with it. I spent much of my GCSE revision period fantasising about living a different life, being somebody else, and I’ve done so plenty of other times too. I’ve also had plenty of other symptoms of low self esteem – constantly seeking approval from others then not believing it if I get it; isolating myself; assuming I am unlovable, an irritant or a burden.

I’d never considered that this sort of fantasising is linked with a struggle for self esteem, or that it is ‘wishing my life away’, but it makes total sense. Very helpful.

The challenge is to be convicted of the truth that I really am admirable, that I really would be missed if I disappeared, that the world would be worse off without me. I believe this a lot more than I ever have, because I have been well loved, and well supported to consider this issue in my life. But, as tonight demonstrates, I am going to continue to need revelations of my value.

Of course, part of the reason we long to be like others is that they are ahead of us on their journey – they are more themselves, and so more admirable for what they are. We cannot see the finer version of ourselves we will become, and so its harder to even navigate towards that, let alone be energised by it. Perhaps there is only one way.

rrr

As I watched Lucy run to Aslan and hold him, I felt richly that one like Aslan sees me, knows me, and delights in me. Oh how good that is for your heart. I need it desperately. How about you?