You are currently browsing the monthly archive for March 2008.
Verb:
| 1. | a break or interruption in the continuity of a work, series, action, etc related to blogging. |
I’m going on Holiday for a week or two and am taking the chance to ‘fast’ virtual existence for a bit. So I won’t be blogging, emailing, texting or facebooking for the rest of March.
It’s alwasy good to see where you’re at & periodically strip things away to see what’s actually driving you. I’m going to visit Israel for the first time, and am looking forward to really connecting with the place where this life changing kingdom broke in. More than anything, I want to be an authentic disciple, do what He says, and go where He goes, Too often my mind puts up barriers which stop me taking risks and putting myself in situations where only God can do what needs doing, and I need to strip it down. The more we are exposed to acquaintences through on-line networking, the more pressure we feel to conform and hence take less risk.
Or at least, that’s what I’m feeling.
You might be different.
But the real me is still your friend and he’s still around. You know where he lives.
Matt
. . or the institutionalisation of the Worship Leader
When I was growing up, music in church was one of two things; my mum and several others doing some more folky Catholic Songs of Fellowship (incorporating Taize as well) or the high Anglican hymnody of my Dad’s fellowship. Then there was the Spring Harvest influenced Methodist phase my sister introduced.
The most obvious thing about these fairly well sized congregations was that the worship was lay – there was a choir mistress in the Anglican church, but I’m fairly sure she was voluntary. The only paid ministers at mum’s church were the priests. The rest was by the people for the people, with all its ‘warts and all’.
You’ve no doubt tired of my excuses regarding the lack of detailed and thoughtful blogging. For this occasion you can use the handy cut out and keep interactive excuse machine below to locate the right excuse for you.
Just say the words busy, tired, London, double booked, tired, late, City fan in a northern mumble and you’ll have something approximating the truth.
Two moments from the weekend seem to have done that internal resonance thing where you have a moment of self-actualisation.
The first occurred on Saturday. I wasn’t planning to do very much – last weekend was full of busy work, and so will next weekend, so I try and keep things chilled on the ‘in betweens’. So I woke up, got my study done, went for a run, played some master league and a few rounds on tiger woods, you know the usual twentysomething approach to Saturdays. Then Andy, Rachel P and I went over to Will’s to throw the Frisbee around and knock some cricket balls in time honoured tradition. In less time honoured tradition we hit the sauna (awesome when you add this crazy oil that makes the whole thing like swimming in vaporub – colds, be gone!) and the hot tub.
And yet I always get a creeping sense of niggling melancholy at such moments when I’m enjoying myself. I guess somewhere in the back of my mind I’d much rather be further on in my life than I am now in terms of relationships, and then my subconscious takes a detour round all the missed opportunities and crazy randoms and let downs – most of which inflicted by me on others I’ll freely admit. And I get confused.
But the moment – the realisation – was this; that a ‘hope deferred makes the heart sick’ like nothing else. That a slow and gradual fading of a dream harms you more than any desperate crisis & blow up. When things go crazy – shouting, screaming, crying, accusations, recriminations, revenge and the like, at least you’ve got a STORY at the end of it. When things just fizzle out, splutter and breathe their last, you’re just powerless. And crucially you feel like it’s not important enough to bother God with, so you don’t seek the healing that’s yours. Big crises lead us into big time repentance and prayer – little, gradual compromises and acceptances of the status quo do a much better job of getting us off track from our Kingdom mission.
Moment two. Sunday was a lot of fun. More study, more coffee, church in the morning, cricket practice (No yips! Stage one of rehab is bowling off two steps. Went much better. Plus I pulverised some genuinely quick bowling with my “trademark” leg side wristy drives and lofted hoiks. Got a few laughs for referring to cow corner as my ‘accumulation’ area. We always do a thing at the end of your net when you get given a target off your last 6 balls – mine was 17. Smashed two huge leg side sixes and drove one off the back foot a la KP for an impressive final over. So it seems I can bat but can’t bowl – the Lord giveth and the lord taketh away . . .) straight to get marts and Akin-Smith to watch Rugby (I have watched 5 lives games at Ashton Gate and the team I support have lost every time. I shouldn’t be allowed to go really). The running to Christ Church to watch Sam C get dunked. And Smooth make me giggle by sketching body parts on the order of service. And the Woodlands crew whooping and cheering in Christchurch.
So instead of pubbing, I chose the going home option. Made my favourite Chorizo pasta and poured a chilled Guinness . . . .
Just . . . heaven.
