Ear August 19, 2009

A Comedy. So far from the reality that one is left with the option of laughing or crying because the situation has already exceeded life capacity. Comical because imagination has been captured and a new way of doing life has been designed. Comedy because its funny. Simple. Different. Life giving.

A Tragedy because after we laugh, we cry. Tragic because we are expecting to laugh but there is no punch line. Tragic because the new way of life steers totally out of control.

A fairy tale because the ending is spectacular. The resolve is tremendous. The hope restored. Back in Kansas with Toto. A fairy tale because after the tragedy there is nowhere left, somehow a new world is birthed where there wasn’t one earlier that day. Somehow the parameters of life itself are stretched so far that a spiritual big bang occurs. Hope bursts onto the scene like a million stars. A new world, a fairy tale.

A comedy, a tragedy and a fairy tale. The hallmarks of Him.

The comedy of heavily armed guards turning up to a prayer garden in order to arrest a preacher. I start laughing at the excess, the hyperbole. This is lunacy. Like a scene from Terry Gilliam’s Brazil, Buttle instead of Tuttle, the laughter however, begins to fade as the consequence of the overkill begins to fall like snow on cedars.

A tragedy because the guards seize Him and this becomes a dark hour, a tragedy because His followers scatter, lose their heads, betray with a kiss. A tragedy because swords are raised, an ear is sliced off, hope seems further away. In the midst of the dark garden, in the midst of the dark hour, there comes a mini fairy tale. One that profoundly illustrates the outstanding work still to be done. The twist is when the guard who came to arrest Him is being healed by Him. The guard who came to snatch Him is being restored by Him. The guard, who belonged to the army, that came to take His life has just had it given back. Caught up in an army, in humanity, I advanced like the guard. I shuffled along until one day I got hurt so badly that I fell, clutching my ear. That’s when it happened. The parameters of my world gave way. A bigger bang. A new world. A new life. A comedy, a Tragedy, a Fairy Tale.

A fruit tree August 15, 2009

A portion of every life, given to fear. Situations beyond our control can easily morph into areas of worry. Stress. All that energy, thought and time given to something that cannot improve the quality of my life. A sub conscious mental self harm that has its roots in the twisted.

The distortion birthed in a moment of naked realisation. The introduction of fear into life happened after deception. The first fear was swiftly pursued by the first shame. Almost hand in hand. Since that moment the distorted grew more distorted, since that moment the twisted became more twisted.

It must come as no surprise that He wanted to address fear. He made sure the message was not lost. Do not worry. Do not worry about what you will eat, wear, live. Being a human, from distortion to gem stone, transforming into a way of life with deception, fear and shame eradicated. It sounds crazy no? Like a fairy tale.

²²Then Jesus said to his disciples: “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear. ²³Life is more than food, and the body more than clothes.

²⁷“Consider how the lilies grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. ²⁸If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you.

more August 12, 2009

Live generously. Is there a better way to live? Generous with time, money, hope, expectations, life. My challenge is to be generous regardless of the recipient. Its easy to be generous to folk who I would choose to be generous to. Not wanting to be a doormat but becoming a heart to serve. To give with transparency and with creativity. To give, not as slave with a big star stitched onto rags, but as a human being, a soul inhabiting the real estate of hope.

In a book called Luke, chapter six the author writes, of situations when generosity is taken to the extreme, presenting another cheek, walking an extra mile, giving a coat. All these represent more than a surface level submission they represent more than parity with the master, they showcase humanity. The Roman who has to use the front of his hand to strike you otherwise its deemed as a punch, an act reserved for an equal. Cannot use his right hand, reserved again for equals, finds himself in a dilemma if the other cheek is presented. He cannot strike without granting an equality to the victim.

Three is a cadence to life, when I don’t even have to think about certain elements they simply happen because I am pursuing Him. The author of breathing. Not hard hearted, not soft hearted, a creative way of life, a generous heart created by following Him.

wait August 6, 2009

Wait. A word often delivered to an inpatient party. Often repeated to oneself, shepherding to caution. In some ways waiting offers a security, for those who have little more than hope. To wait is fine. For those who have it all ready, waiting becomes a chore. For those who have it all mapped out, waiting is an unnecessary restriction, a muzzle on progress. To wait on hope, is an altogether different prospect. It is active. Waiting, attentive, ready, more like an athlete under starters orders than someone waiting for a bus. Waiting for hope is expectation with communication. Waiting in hope is part of what stretches life. To wait on hope is to see shapes emerge. Shapes I can trust, shapes I can build my life around.

Wait in line He told her, but instead She said, I’ll wait here because even the dogs under the table get the crumbs. Her waiting was active, it was hungry for hope.

Videotape August 2, 2009

I believe in a God who speaks to Muslim and Christian, Skinhead and Sikh, Atheist and Baha’i. Priest and Prostitute. I believe in a God who speaks to the heart that wants to change regardless of religious or non religious affiliation. I believe in a journey and not conformity. I do not believe in hypocrisy, I aspire to transparency. I believe in new and fresh expressions. I believe in compression from distortion to gem stone.

Live Free

• They call me Mr Glass
• Distortion
• Seat Belts

Ask Questions

• Receive few answers,
• Ask more questions
• XXL Faith

Hope

• From distortion to gem stone
• Zephaniah’s New Language {Pollen Honesty}
• Haggai’s New Temple {Spiritual Architecture}
• Zechariah’s Bridge {The pursuit of Him in community}
• Matthew’s Bistro {Inclusiveness not an exclusivity}

Live Free

A memory of an M.Night film with Samuel. L. Jackson pleading, ‘they call me mr glass.’ In so many ways I feel we all are born in a brittle, fragile, breakable state. Born into a distorted world, with our hearts glasslike. There are broken shepherd staffs in Zechariah, too brittle for use. If it can be broken, then it can be put back together. If it can be snapped then it can be restored. Often being broken is the start of a true restoration one that develops into a stronger, less fragile, less brittle heart.

Being born into this world brings upon me an unavoidable bag of crimes.

Compromise. Distortion, everything that happens outside of my control. Decisions taken on my behalf with my petrol money, my supermarket money. My birthmark is death, instantly limiting my time on this planet. This is why the virgin birth is so important to me. Someone being born outside of the rules, means miraculously that person escapes the weight of the world. The bag of crimes that compromise and entangle our lives. The virgin birth fulfils a promise. It has a past. The virgin birth means the world has someone living in it who is outside of the worlds distortion. This is important to me.

I want what is real, right now. I don’t want to be sold a hope that comes into effect only when I die. I want to live a full life, one that applies to here, right now.

When that which I fear is unmasked to reveal itself, then it can no longer be a source of fear for me. That is my life. Identities revealed. Hope realised, here today, and maybe for longer. I believe so anyway.

A complete trust eradicates fear. The boundaries are important but only as part of a holistic relationship. On their own, they are just rules, with a relationship they become seat belts. In place to offer security and safety.

He says come, if you’re tired, if you’re worn out, come if you are burnt out by following rule book. Come. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. Learn to live freely and lightly. Come. Breathe. Life.

Who do I profess to be? Something that I am or something that I am not?

I am a shadow, brought into life by the sun and one day diminished by it too.

I own nothing and I owe nothing. This is Freedom.

Ask Questions

There are an ocean of questions that my heart often delivers to my mouth, in the full knowledge that reconciliation is unlikely.

My faith is not a bulletproof marketing campaign that was designed to withstand a political slanging match. The bible was never written to prove or disprove carbon dating, the theory of relativity or a scientific journal of humanity.

I can understand free will and the consequences that arrive with making choices, however I am still broken when I see poverty. My heart is crushed when I contemplate the state of this world. I want Him to engage with the little girl in the red coat. Save her. Save them. Where were You then? Where were you when the clowns took control?

I must be able to question aspects without the whole structure crumbling.

Do not tow the party line. Do not speak what is expected of you. My faith is XXL, it can accommodate a distorted man, and it can withstand my questioning. Speak from the heart. Always. Job did, The Psalms did, and Habakkuk did.

Hope and the journey from Distorion to Gem Stone

There is hope amongst the tables being turned. There is hope within the final words. There is hope in the dying minutes. There is hope in hopelessness. Because of this, I can live. Because of this I know I now move from distortion to diamond, from grit to precious pearl.

A gem stone language like Zephaniah writes of; an undistorted one. I am learning the vowels of an untwisted vocabulary that can only be formed from an untwisted mouth. In compression from distortion to diamond. From nebulous to perspicuous.

My life in compression. Forced into this world and praying into another.

When Haggai urges the people of Israel to build a temple, a new temple, it is not a call to build another structure that will decay. It is a model of living. A way of living holistically, beautifully. A way of living life with freedom. To build my temple. Architects for a different world. When Haggai writes of a temple for ALL to worship in, there is more than a building. When he writes of building work it is as much conditions of the heart as it is stone masonry. When he writes of construction it is as much faith and Selah as it is straw and mud.

To build for the world that lasts, an investment in eternity.

Zechariah leads me to a bridge. Contextually around 520 BC, the Persians have defeated the Babylonians, and Cyrus II and later Darius decide that Israelites should return to their land and in fact the Persians would pay for the rebuilding of the temple.

In Zechariah chapter two there is a passage that says He is coming to live in our midst. It follows, and many nations will join the lord and become my people, I will live among you.

What if more attractive and significant than any speakers corner session is to live among a community and model hope. What Israel saw as a dark time, living in exile in Babylon, could have been an era when a people of hope lived that life amongst the rest of the world.

Cyrus, Darius, Alexander, Ptolemy Philadelphus, Augustus, and Tiberius ALL paid respect to the temple by sending offerings. Persian Empire, Greek Empire and Roman Empire moved by the hope and consistency of a people and their relationship with God.

When Zechariah writes of many nations, I can see the uncomplicated way. Be different. Be radical. Be true. Choose Life. Life attracts life. Hope begets a community of belief.

He did not seek the outsiders. They came to Him. He wasn’t just hanging out with the marginalised they saw hope in Him. They saw in hope beyond power and vanity, beyond masks and society’s approval. They saw in Him something magical and unique. This was never a PR campaign, hanging with the excluded groups, it was the excluded being drawn to life.

There is an inclusiveness in Him that is beyond this day, this life, my street, my social groups. An inclusiveness into His country. Not an exclusive country golf club, no women allowed, but an inclusive feast where ALL are most welcome.

The dazzling hope at breakfast, the endless possibilities of the day ahead. This is my compression. This is my life, my crucible.

Hope in the power that silences a raging storm and straightens a twisted mans heart.

I still have an ocean of questions and yet I still have a peace that His hope sustains me. Quiets my soul, revives my heart. Provides me with the framework of being human again in an inhuman world.

More than rules. More than promises. More than good deeds. In my life, to be fully alive is to pursue Him every day, choose life and experience a coronation in my heart.

one love. to hope. free souls. four give. July 30, 2009

Over a month ago a baby bird, whom we named O’shea, flew into our porch and then finally into our house. He stayed for a brief period and flew away. A few days ago, a kitten came to find us, like O’shea, was well mannered enough to use the front door. New life breaks into our lives. There is something in our hearts that softens for new life, that can see the helplessness of a baby bird, or kitten. It isn’t even about what they do, whether its right or wrong, our focus is purely on sustaining their lives.

I wonder what my life outlook would be like if my interaction with others was purely to sustain life, to birth hope into lives, new life into old souls, old dreams, old hurts. New truth into old lies. I wonder if the same level of care and attention were to be emptied out into society, would that change anything? My heart, softer or harder? I have felt the effects of a hard heart before. It is the opposite of life, a hard heart ushers in selfishness, greed, divorce from humanity, death.

I listen attentively with my soul when I read the story of a servant who was forgiven a great deal but then could not forgive someone who has harmed him slightly. Like the staff snapped in two, I am born with a brittle heart, born a little twisted in this distorted world. The worst thing I could ever have done was to to harden my brittle heart.

Breathe. I smile. It’s ok. A good heart, a soft heart, a forgiving heart, a forgiven heart.

trainspotting July 27, 2009

Religion concerns itself with lists of do’s and dont’s.  That’s what I am learning all week. I do not want to be a robot. I do not want to live a checklist religious  life. I don’t want a half life. I want to be fully alive. Thoughts and deed as one.

To be free to enjoy a life, is to be at peace with every environment. To be a human being. To be real. To maintain balance between the heart and the mind. This is what I feel when I speak of choosing life. From the depths of my soul, to the depths of my mind, to the depths of The Christ, to the depths of heaven, like garlands spanning over my life past and yet to be. I want to be real. Authentic. Human.

When all that I fear is unmasked and revealed, then it can no longer be a source of fear for me. This is part of my authenticity, part of my humanity. Identities revealed. Hope realised, here today, and maybe for longer. I believe so anyway.

Life? Here today, right now is limited. Only a handful of years, more or less then death. Death, is part of life, it is my birthmark. This death is intrinsic to this life, and this life can be restored, it can be improved, it can actually be replaced with a better one. A less distorted one. A less twisted one. A gem stone of a life. A living life. A real life. An authentic one. This is what stirs me. Maybe because being authentic was so difficult for me before that it feels like a release to be so now?

Maybe because when I saw true authenticity I realised that I was truly far from it.  Real authenticity like Him. The stories that inspired me, that revealed a life modelled without fear, hatred or pride. His stories are like a bridge from a place of uncertainty to clarity. I smile, I smile as I slowly marvel, listening to one of His stories, the twist that I didn’t see coming, the radical characterisation; those whom society despises given the lead role over those who profess to be upstanding.  The ending that scratches the record to a stop, a break. Beat, paused, and then later, much later, the realisation. It was all about me. It was all about Him.

And what about the select that society tells us to avoid? He didn’t seek the outsiders. They came to Him. He wasn’t hanging out with the marginalised they saw hope in Him, a hope beyond that which the world could offer. In Him they saw a hope beyond power and vanity, beyond fear and society’s approval. They saw in Him something magical and unique. More than a PR campaign, it was never, “hanging with the excluded”, it was always “the excluded being drawn to life.” Me being drawn to Him. My unauthentic life being drawn to a chance for living a real one. A chance to untangle myself, untie the knots.

There is an inclusiveness in Him that is beyond this day and this life. This is not an exclusive country golf club where no are women allowed, this is an inclusive fiesta where ALL are welcome.

He has not cattle prod me to learn rules. HI do not want to be forced to live a life ferrying from perimeter post to perimeter post. The life I seek and live is based on the heart, is based on relationship. A relationship that models its life giving attributes does not have to scour the boundaries. A complete trust eradicates fear. The boundaries are important but only as part of a holistic relationship. On their own, they are just rules, with a relationship they become seat belts. In place to offer security and safety.

He says come, if you’re tired, if you’re worn out, come if you are burnt out by following rule books. Come. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. Learn to live freely and lightly. Come. Breathe. Life. Come to an inclusive fiesta, come where life can be restored, where tears can flow, where death meets life.

Come, listen, eat, drink, rest, hope, believe.

You.

Please show Your hope in my life today

Untwist the world.

Like heaven on earth.

You sustain me.

Untwist me, and let me see others untwisted.

Protect me from my own distortion, other peoples distortion, and darkness.

You are my reference point. You are in control.

With You anything can happen.

You burn me with your truth and hope.

You are beautiful and powerful.

Always.

Yes.

seat belt July 25, 2009

More and more time spent, preventing death. Seat belts and cycle helmets. I have to embrace that which haunted my dreams as a child. Walking toward that which no one could ever reassure me. My dad would say, you are too young to worry about death, you have your whole life ahead of you, go to bed.

Where there is fear, there is also great uncertainty. Great urgency to hold onto something, anything. I want none of it. I want what is real, right now. I don’t want to be sold a hope that comes into effect only when I die. I want to live a full life, one that applies to here, right now.

When that which I fear is unmasked to reveal itself, then it can no longer be a source of fear for me. That is my life. Identities revealed. Hope realised, here today, and maybe for longer. I believe so anyway.

He did not simply illustrate that He could perform great miracles, but He revealed the issues that held me captive before were merely paper tigers. Death? is part of life, my birthmark. To defeat death is impossible, but death is part of life, and this life can be bettered, it can be improved, it can actually be replaced with a better one. A less distorted one. A gem stone of a life. A living life.

come and listen July 3, 2009

Thankful for life. Thankful for breath. Thankful.

Wednesday Swelling Cushion Rest Aspect August 20, 2008

pink pill yellow pill pink yellow pill pink pill yellow pill pink pill yellow pill pink pill yellow pill pink pill yellow pill

Stretched out over my trivet of soft furnishing  there is a calm that is as reassuring as the john lewis duvet that drapes its folds around me. The sound of boys play fighting, crying, play fighting, crying and play fighting has an almost tidal rhythm to it. If I am not careful I may get wet. My wife joins me with cappuc, a respite, snooze and Albert Khan. There is a parity in this country that gives me so much hope. Thank you.