Hard Reality

I wanted to share a strange thing with you. It is that I have been very impressed by the honesty of someone's grief. When I say impressed, I obviously mean that I understand that, given a choice, this person would rather not go through it at all  but still, his behaviour has done him credit. Rick Warren is the author of The Purpose Driven Life, the best selling Christian book. He is a pastor, a teacher, a giver and an all round good egg. At the beginning of April, his son Matthew took his own life. Matthew, a Christian, had suffered with bi-polar disorder for most of his life. Pastor Warren is a prolific tweeter. Like most Christian leaders, his tweets are usually positive and upbeat. They changed significantly after Matthew's death. You my think that this would be obvious. However, there is sometimes a school of Christian thought that faith translates into "positivity in all circumstances." When I was ill, I remember someone literally yelling "All things work together for good for those that love God" under the toilet door at me, when I had fled there to escape. She was only trying to help. She didn't. I sometimes think I sense Christians being encouraged to sort of ignore the grief by repeating how great God is - if only through gritted teeth. Warren has not done this. His Tweets are shot through with grief, yet he finds comfort in Jesus.

Every time my heart shatters I take the pieces to Jesus for repair.

We can't grow without change. We can't change without letting go. We can't let go without some loss, and that brings grief.

Grief comes in waves.When a big wave hits, you cant ignore it.You surf it and ride it out. My surfboard is talking to Jesus.

Kay and I are overwhelmed by your love, prayers, and kind words. You are all encouraging our #brokenhearts.

Many people have been really helped by The Warrens' honesty. God has depth. He has the deepest depth. When we try and pretend that bad things don't happen or that when they happen we don't really get hurt, then I think that we make God seem shallow. When people grieve  God enters into that grief with them. He doesn't leave them alone and he asks that we do the same.

Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.

My Curious God

Please find pictured above a VERY small snippet of HOH's music collection. All vinyl and Northern Soul Collections are kept where I can't reach them after a rather nasty accusation of using a record as a Frisbee.  Please note that there are NO witnesses to this and no jury in the land would convict me.
Anyway, I am idly rooting through his CDs to put stuff on my MP3 without going through the bother of downloading which, I am sure,  is only slightly less complicated that splitting an atom. I came across the lovely Charlie Peacock.

In the 90s he was my Christian performer of choice with intelligent lyrics and lovely thoughts. One of my favourite songs is "What's it like in your world?"
I tried really hard to find it on You Tube - but it has perhaps every song he has written apart from this one so I have reprinted the lyrics. If you are interested, you can download it. You could do a lot worse - it's very 90s but vair good. Anyway, in the absence of the music, here are the lyrics

What's it like in your world?
What makes you laugh?
What makes you cry?
Let me look into your soul, so I can see what the world looks like through your eyes.

You don't have to ever pretend when you're in my company,
You've got to know I will not turn and run from you if you practice honesty.

What's it like in your...(what's it like in your world?)
What's it like in your world?
What's it like in your...(what's it like in your world?)
I want to know what's going on,
I want to know what's going on.

Do you have any expectations of yourself and the world in which you live?
If you had a chance to make some kind of difference, tell me now, what would you, what could you give?
Is there any hope you've set aside?
Any dreams yet to come true?
Well, tell me, tell me, tell me true,
Are there any longings, any passions that you've kept hidden from my view?

It is a mystery that the God who knows my thoughts and hopes and dreams is still genuinely curious about me. Remember in the Garden of Eden when Adam and Eve had done the deed with the apple. They then went on to show a spectacular lack of understanding about just how big God is by thinking that the most effective response would be to hide behind the nearest bush. (All the best with that one guys) God, being God and therefore knowing exactly where Adam is, still says

"Where are you?"

To me, I think that this is not about a physical absence, it's about a relational one. When Adam takes himself out of the relationship by behaving like a numpty - God misses him.

I have said before that it is beyond my understanding that God is interested in a one to one relationship, where I am a proper person with him, not a lab experiment. Knowing myself as I know myself, that is both terrifying and a comfort.   As best I can, I am choosing to be comforted by it and be grateful about God's curiosity about me.

Don't say that dear - it's not nice

James Gordon

It appears to be turning into American Pastors' Week here at Martha Towers, which is nice. I like Americans (not all of them obviously)  and I like pastors (not all of them obviously)
Today I am turning my attention to the shy, retiring and not at all publicity seeking Mark Driscoll. Now I have to admit that I have a sneaking regard for a Christian who likes to speak his mind. Sometimes we are too quiet when we need to speak. Sometimes though, Pastor Driscoll's outpourings seems to cross over the line of loveliness. He is in charge of a mahoosive church in America and I am sure he is very popular among this huge population. He is not, however, as popular with some women (see his mind-blowing remarks on women in leadership here) or with British church leaders (see his encouraging and Christian solidarity promoting remarks here. Although he did try and wriggle out of this a bit later by saying that the interviewer had upset him)
There is probably not enough space in the cyber world for me to share my feelings on this and you are all too young anyway. So I will move on in a Christian and forgiving way to his latest controversial remarks which have added the Greens to the list of groups who have crossed him off their Christmas list. 

"I know who made the environment. He's coming back and he's going to burn it all up. So yes, I drive an SUV"



I have to confess that I had to look up "SUV". I think what he is talking about here is the equivalent of a zillionaire in London who drives a huge four-wheel drive - just because they can and are therefore - officially - donks. 
However, that aside, it's the sheer carelessness of the remark that does my head in. I don't know where you are on the Creation/Evolution debate. I know Christians who believe that the world evolved and God loves it and I know Christians who believe that God fashioned every single petal of every flower individually and loves it. And I know Christians of every hue in between. 
Just because something isn't going to last forever, does that give us the right to trash it? The earth has a job to do. In Psalm 19 it says. 

The heavens declare the glory of God;
    the skies proclaim the work of his hands

I would think that you would trash that at you peril. When our daughter was little we bought her a doll's house. It was from Ikea, about a foot taller than her and made from cardboard. How she loved that house. She decorated it and furnished it, then she re-decorated it. It was used as a house and a space station and, because she is who she is, a place to train lady pilots and doctors - often in the same classroom. It gave us so much joy to have given her something that she loved so much. There really is nothing like the feeling of seeing someone you love really appreciate something you have given to them. Of course, because it was only made of cardboard, eventually it went through one makeover too many and we had to kiss it goodbye. 

However you believe the world got here, it is, I think anyway, part of God's love letter to us. I have neither the desire nor the will to throw something so beautiful back in his face. It is my role, I think  to tread as lightly as possible and enjoy it while it lasts. 

Dum, Dum, Dum, Dum De Dum

That, you will have recognised immediately is the theme to Film Night because I have been to the pictures twice this week - oh the life I lead - and wanted to tell you about both of the movies because they are a bit off the beaten track.

The Spirit of 45

This is a Ken Loach documentary about the creation of the Welfare State after the war. No, come back, it's really interesting. When people came back from the war in 1945, they were unwilling to return to the crippling poverty and systems that they had lived under before. So they ousted Churchill (fascinating footage of him being heckled at a rally) and voted in a Labour Government and began to change things. It isn't the most balanced thing I have ever seen. It completely ignores the way that the country was when Margaret Thatcher took over. Even I remember that you couldn't bury your dead or get your rubbish collected. Also how genuinely afraid people were of the power of the unions. This sometimes seems to suggest that she broke up a happy Socialist utopia just for the benefit of eight rich people in Mayfair and I don't think it was quite like that was it? However, there is a warning about the National Health Service and the the benefits we all enjoy. Should, I think be required viewing in all classrooms.

A Late Quartet

You know, sometimes a film comes along and there are no lasers or time travel. No one gets their head sawn off or buries anyone alive. People just act. Really well. And they use that acting to tell you a story about people that is moving and makes you think and is uplifting. This is one of those films. One member of a quartet who have played together for twenty five years is diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. The film revolves around the way these people react to that. New York never looked more beautiful. Everyone is as cool as a cool thing on a very cool day and that's it really. It's enough. Highly recommended. 

Go away. Eat cake. Be reassured that the film industry is not ready to jump into the handcart to hell quite yet. 

Legacies

Was sad to hear this week of the death of Dallas Willard. Aside from being blessed with a super-dude  name. "My name is Dallas. How Do You Do? Yes indeed it is a cool name isn't it? "  He also has the rare distinction of being one of the few people who, when I have listened to them on my MP3, I actually leave on to listen to again.
One piece is a sermon about Grace which he defined as "God acting in my life" I found this very challenging because it is not passive and means that God is part of my ongoing life and it demands a response from me. The second piece is just an opening prayer before he preached in which he used the line from God "You are perfectly safe with me." Sometimes when I walk to work felling a bit low or afraid, I play the prayer and remind myself of this. It does a girl good I can tell you. The bloke left a legacy.

We had a visit from a couple from church this week as part of the membership process. They seemed very nice, if a little delicate for our house, and my first question, as usual was "Are you ok with dogs?" "Oh yes, of course we are." Cue Morecambe greeting visitors with bountiful love and joy.  

Shultz

Nice people ."Is he a puppy?" 
"Er no - he is seven"
"He has a lot  energy - quite bouncy." (Said with slightly panicky smile)
"We'll put him in the kitchen"
Return to find nice man looking quite relieved and nice lady drawing heavily on her inhaler. It all went quite well after that. 

Watched this week
Murder on the Home Front
Set in the Second World War. Based on real diaries of a real pathologist's real assistant. Lots of attention to detail. What could possibly go wrong? Well, for me, everything really. Firstly, why do all the lady bodies in the morgue have to be stripped to the waist with their ning-nangs on show? Secondly, the pathologist is so far ahead of his time, he is practically from another dimension. Thirdly, more cliches in it than Shredded Wheat has roughage. Fully expect to see our plucky heroine (who, last week, got herself a job as a pathologist's typist and now finds herself at the centre of every crime scene in London) running through London in the middle of the night pursued by the bad guy.

Reading this week
Miss Read - Village School

Am not entirely sure if this is one of the loveliest books I have ever read or the most boring. Nothing has happened yet - at all - nothing. But the sense of time and place is captivating. Bits even remind me of my own ancient primary school in Salford but I would just like a little thing to happen I think. Just once. Doesn't have to be much.