practising resurrection

long pauses

2009-01-25T11:23:00.009+11:00

There have been pauses in my life over the last six months. Firstly, long pauses between entries here. Pace has been a bit too hectic for a bit too long.

But there have been other pauses:

Pause in New Zealand.

Pause at Lakes Entrance.

Pause at Aire River.

Denise Levertov's poetry never fails to be life-giving for me. In Making peace, she writes;

A line of peace might appear
if we restructured the sentence our lives are making,
revoked its reaffirmation of profit and power,
questioned our needs, allowed
long pauses . . .

A hope for the sentence my life makes in 2009; long pauses.

africa

2008-07-13T21:24:00.006+10:00

I kept having to pinch myself to see if it was real. I was actually in Africa. Walking in the red dust, driving the rural roads, meeting and speaking with many brave and patient people, eating cooked corn meal and sleeping under mossie nets. What an experience; a night in Johanesburg, South Africa then driving through the countries of Malawi, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, Zambia and Botswana this last month. Border crossings, speeding fines, police checks, elephants crossing the road, spending billions of dollars on lunch in Harare... so many stories to tell, so much to process, so many challenges to my thinking and theology. AIDs, poverty, abuse of power and violence contrasted with courage, sacrifice, faith and laughter. This is Africa.

A few of the many photos I took along the way.

"The Boys" - a rural village in Malawi.

"Oranges for sale" - on the road to Zimbabwe.

"Fiwali sunset" - Zambia.

That I actually got to do this - wow!

zo's place

2007-12-26T10:28:00.000+11:00

Although we all missed Lal, Jo, David, Emily, Simon, Sarah, Kamis and Katie, the rest of the Holt clan thoroughly enjoyed Zoe's hospitality as we celebrated Christmas together last night.

The food was stunning, the drinks flowed freely, Paul flooded the garage with the smell of cooked seafood, Nathaniel chased bugs, Greg built a dinosaur, Meg organised a game that kept erupting in laughter, Tom's afro had disappeared, everybody talked, laughed, ate and enjoyed the good company.

Pity the focus was'nt sharp, my photography skills aren't as good as Greg's video productions on youtube.

Jarred & Jess ignored the "no drinking" rule in the spa.

Thanks so much Zo for your hospitality given so graciously. We're all looking forward to the next big gathering - the wedding.

choice

2007-12-20T09:40:00.000+11:00

I have been using Mark Pierson's advent cards to reflect on the coming of Christ during this season. Each card ends with a question. The first was, "If God's messenger spoke to you today, what would you most like to hear?" As I pondered this, I read Denise Levertov's poem, Annunciation and was struck by another and perhaps deeper question, "If God's messenger spoke to me what choice would I make?" I often talk with people (much like myself) who long to hear God speak to them. Maybe God is speaking far more clearly than we realise but our response to the message is turned away from in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair and with relief. Ordinary lives continue.

Annunciation

We know the scene: the room, variously furnished,
almost always a lectern, a book; always
the tall lily.
Arrived on the solemn grandeur of great wings,
the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,
whom she acknowledges, a guest.
But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions
courage.
The engendering Spirit
did not enter her without consent.
God waited.
She was free
to accept or to refuse, choice
integral to humanness.

Aren’t there annunciations
of one sort or another
in most lives?
Some unwittingly
undertake great destinies,
enact them in sullen pride,
uncomprehending.
More often
those moments
when roads of light and storm
open from darkness in a man or woman,
are turned away from
in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair
and with relief.
Ordinary lives continue.
God does not smite them.
But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.

She had been a child who played, ate, slept
like any other child – but unlike others,
wept only for pity, laughed
in joy not triumph.
compassion and intelligence
fused in her, indivisible.
Called to a destiny more momentous
than any in all of Time,
she did not quail,
only asked
a simple, “How can this be?”
and gravely, courteously,
took to heart the angels reply,
perceiving instantly
the astounding ministry she was offered:
to bear in her womb
Infinite weight and lightness; to carry
in hidden, finite inwardness,
nine months of Eternity; to contain
in slender vase of being,
the sum of power –
in narrow flesh,
the sum of light.
Then bring to birth,
push out into air, a Man-child
needing, like any other,
milk and love –
but who was God.
This was the minute no one speaks of,
when she could still refuse.
A breath unbreathed,
Spirit,
suspended,
waiting.

She did not cry, “I cannot, I am not worthy,”
nor, “I have not the strength.”
She did not submit with gritted teeth,
raging, coerced.
Bravest of all humans,
consent illumined her.
The room filled with its light,
the lily glowed in it,
and the iridescent wings.
Consent,
courage unparalleled,
opened her utterly.

Denise Levertov

pink

2007-11-13T11:00:00.000+11:00

Recently Val & I spent a marvelous weekend in central Victoria. I had to speak at Bendigo Baps on the Sunday so we booked a B&B at Woodend for a couple of nights. The hospitality was special, we relaxed with huge cooked breakfasts, bird-watching, waking to a raucous dawn chorus, a walk in the bush (came across the "pink" house above), and good conversation. We lunched with some special friends on the Sunday then dropped round to see Terry & Jeannie Hunter. So good to catch up with good people.

Have been slowly reading some good books lately. Alan Lewis's Between cross and resurrection. Reza Aslan's No God but God. Parts of Jurgen Moltmann's The Crucified God.

For a story-teller like me, I liked this quote about scripture stories from Alan Lewis.
... profound concepts and complex doctrines are finally no better match than stories for the heights and depths of the divine.

shane claiborne

2007-09-01T17:44:00.000+10:00

Taken from the back of Federation Square looking down the Yarra to South Bank

Have just finished Shane Claiborne's book "Irresistible Revolution". Here are a few quotes.

Fall in love with a group of people who are marginalized and suffering, and then you wont have to worry about which cause you need to protest. Then the issues will choose you... There are times when injustice will take us to the streets and might land us in jail, but it is our love for God and our neighbour - not our rage or our arrogance - that counts.

Just as "believers" are a dime a dozen in the church, so are "activists" in social justice circles nowadays. But lovers are hard to come by. And I think that's what our world is desperately in need of - lovers, people who are building deep, genuine relationships with fellow strugglers along the way, and who actually know the faces of the people behind the issues they are concerned about.

We must never fall in love with "the revolution" ot "the movement". We can easily become so driven by our vision for church growth, community, or social justice that we forget the little things, like caring for those around us.

samuel wells 2

2007-08-04T10:21:00.000+10:00

Took this shot late one afternoon last week strolling in the botanic gardens, Melbourne.

For Christians the principal practice by which the moral imagination is formed, the principal form of discipleship training, is worship. Worship is the time when the conventional rules of the fallen world are suspended, when God is at last addressed as Lord, when time and heart and voice and posture are directed toward knowing God and making him known, toward experiencing the glorious liberty of being his child, when need and expectation are focused on their true source, when all desires are known and no secrets are hid, when attention moves from what is to what might yet be. Each aspect of worship represents a vital dimension of moral formation.

(Samuel Wells - Improvisation)

samuel wells

2007-08-04T09:58:00.000+10:00

One can be moved to sacrifice others, or oneself, in order to change things, rather than recognize that Christ has made the sacrifice instead. This tendency is particularly common on questions of peace and war, God is on our side, yet the other side appears to be winning, or at least posing an intolerable threat: therefore, so that God's will may prevail, we must destroy the other side, or at least teach them a lesson. The fact that the Messiah has come, and has shown how God addresses conflict, and has shown that we should concentrate on the abundance we can share rather than the scarcity that will be fought over - this fact tends to be ignored.
(Samuel Wells - Improvisation)

This shot was taken in Banda Aceh, Indonesia. Two men I got to know, they were training as bobcat drivers hoping to rebuild their lives after the tsunami

south melbourne

2007-07-28T14:44:00.000+10:00

Sunrise of my heart, I thrill to the touch of your colours in my life

1 thessalonians 5:17

2007-07-23T10:37:00.000+10:00

I travelled north this last weekend. First of all to Wodonga where I facilitated a training workshop for a group from the Baptist church taking a Global Xposure trip to Africa later this year. Early Sunday morning after dealing with very thick frost on my car windows, I drove two and a half hours to Kyabram where I joined with another group of Baptist folk - mainly dairy farmers - for their worship service. I enjoyed myself immensely seeing some glorious countryside, speaking with some fascinating people, checking out some northern Victorian birdlife and taking the occasional photo.

With all that time in the car, I was able to listen to some teaching cds. Richard Rohr, a Franciscan, was talking about the Hebrew name of God; Yahweh. What really struck me was when he explained that the structure of this Hebrew name for God fits with the human pattern of breathing. The two syllables in and out, ‘Yah……..Weh,…….Yah…..Weh. Over the years, I have practised quite a few breath prayers and found them extremely helpful for mindfulness or attentiveness. Then, this morning, I came across this poetry by Hafiz. It seemed so appropriate that I thought I would post it here.

A Wild, Holy Band

Your breath is a sacred clock, my dear –
Why not use it to keep time with God’s Name?

And if your feet are ever mobile
Upon this ancient drum, the earth,
O do not let your precious movements
Come to naught.

Let your steps dance silently
To the rhythm of the Beloved’s Name!

My fingers and my hands
Never move through empty space,
For there are
Invisible golden lute strings all around,
Sending resplendent chords
Throughout the universe.

I hear the voice
Of every creature and plant,
Every world and sun and galaxy –
Singing the Beloved’s name!

I have awakened to find violin and cello,
Flute, harp and trumpet,
Cymbal, bell and drum –
All within me!
From head to toe, every part of my body
Is chanting and clapping!

Hafiz,
The Beloved has made you
Such a luminous man!

For with constant remembrance of God,
One’s whole body will become
A wonderful and wild
Holy band!

(Hafiz)

stacey

2007-07-14T19:06:00.000+10:00

Stacey is part of our Global Interaction Victoria team. As youth consultant, Stace brings passion and creativity to her role as well as laughter and fun to the office.
Today was her wedding day and her birthday. Doesn't she look stunning? Michael, waiting at the front of the church couldn't wipe the huge grin from his face.

psalm 90:1

2007-07-12T21:46:00.000+10:00

Lord, you have been our dwelling place
in all generations.

I love you, gentlest of Ways,
who ripened us as we wrestled with you.

You, the great homesickness we could never shake off,
you, the forest that always surrounded us,

you, the song we sang in every silence,
you dark net threading through us,

on the day you made us you created yourself,
and we grew sturdy in your sunlight...

Let your hand rest on the rim of Heaven now
and mutely bear the darkness we bring over you.

(Rainer Maria Rike)

phillip island

2007-07-11T21:12:00.000+10:00

Val & I with Jess and Meg have just had a weeks holiday. We stayed in a friend's house at Newhaven which is just over the San Remo bridge on Phillip Island. Caleb, having just started work as an appentice carpenter, had to stay home. Needless to say, he wasn't impressed. The weather was pretty cold with rain most days so we sat in front of the fire, watched DVDs and read books. Val made her way through a recent novel set in Africa written by Bryce Courtney. Jessie was facinated with Leon Uris' historical novel on modern Israel's formation in 1948, Exodus. I re-read A wrinkle in time, and The great divorce. Also laughed my way through a very funny Terry Patchet book called Truckers. Got through a few chapters of Volf's The end of memory and some marvelous poetry by Wendel Berry. Meg kept the DVD running hot by watching the second series of Angel.

On the occassions we mananged to get out and about the scenery was stunning. The rock formations along the southern coast of the island are worthy of a better photgrapher than me. Eleven o'clock each day a large group pelicans gather in front of the wharf at San Remo. (How can they tell the time?) The very important reason is their daily feed of fish frames. These thick-legged, saggy-chinned, yellow-eyed, lumps of birds never cease to amaze me. They are enormous and so awkward on land but when they take to the air, I'm staggered by their beauty and exquisite grace.

god

2007-06-28T17:24:00.000+10:00

It was my turn to tell my story at our leadership retreat today. I was able to reflect on what God had meant to me in each section of my life; primary school, high school, training, overseas, pastoral ministry and now. Jesus has become increasingly important for my understanding of God. In Jesus I see and know a God who shows himself as vulnerable, defined not by dominating power but by love.

For responsible Christian usage of the word "God", the Crucified One is virtually the real definition of what is meant by the word "God".
(Eberhard Jungel)

Until we look hard at Jesus, we really haven’t understood who God is… Don’t assume that you have God taped, and fit Jesus into that. Do it the other way. We all come with some ideas of God. Allow those ideas to be shaped around Jesus.
(N.T. Wright)

val's 50th

2007-06-24T19:10:00.001+10:00

Well over forty friends and family members gathered at Ray & Maz's place to celebrate Vally's birthday. It was a great night to which many contributed. Meg put together a great photo/music presentation of Val's life. Simon worked his fingers raw in the kitchen. Jess & Val cooked up a storm all day in preparation. Marilyn & Mark made speeches. Ray & Maz worked all day with others to prepare the outdoor area. Many helped out in all sorts of ways to honour Val and the 50 years of life and adventures that she has lived with great courage and grace.

Simon & Jess
Mark & James

Ali & Jess
Ben & Mark
Caleb & Ray

latte meditation

2007-06-18T18:13:00.000+10:00

Wednesday; Errol St. I sit in the café and read the paper, and somehow the chairs, cups, fridges with multicoloured soft drinks, the passing cars, the anxious manager doing his sums and smoking, the silver stands with the white table numbers, the music from behind me, the strolling and bustling people in the street, the light flowing into the street from behind the town hall clock tower, are all in this meditation.
Contemplatives are stillness machines.

(Terry Monagle “Claws of fire: seeking the whispering friend”)

What I like about Terry's writing is the "localness" of it. Spirituality where I live, move, relate...

These two photos are part of a set I took on the banks of the Yarra. In the middle of taking some shots, I had a fascinating conversation with a woman who was interested in what I was photographing. This woman had just returned from teaching English in Nepal. We talked about photography, global connections, God, Melbourne and a dozen other things all part of my afternoon meditation.

the father

2007-06-06T10:48:00.000+10:00

Luke 15:11-32

Never had the old man made such a journey.
His robes enfolded him like a driving wind.
No one remembered the old man running. Even fire
had never moved him. His estates were the light
of the town. Yet, there he was, running to a dark
figure huddling the road. Love was a flood water

carrying him forward. Some tried to dike the water;
nothing could hold him. Love loosed like a wind
of words: “My son is coming home.” Dark
grief behind, the father ran, arms open as light.
He had to lift the boy before the son’s fire
of sorrow burned the father’s sandals. Journey?

The old man could remember no other journey
but this homecoming: he held his son in the fire
of his arms, remembering his birth: water
and fire. Servants ran along thrusting at the wind
of excitement: what shall we do? what torchlight
prepare? “Bathe away the pig-pen-slopping-dark

that cloaks my son. Prepare a banquet. Jewel the dark
with fires. My son was dead. My son is afire
with life. The land is fruitful. Joy is its water.
Where is my eldest son? The end of the journey
is ours. My son, do you grieve? Turn from the light
to say you are unrewarded? Son, is the wind

from the south closer to you than me? Is the wind
of your doubt stronger than my love for you? Water
your hardness, my son. Be a brother to the dark
of your brother’s sorrow. Be a season of light
to his coming home. You will make many a journey
through cities, up mountains, over abysses of fire,

but for tonight and tomorrow, my eldest, fire
your heart, strike at its stone. Let it journey
toward dawning, be a thrust at the dark
your brother will never forget. Find a woman of water
and fire, seed her with sons for my name and wind-
supple daughters for bearing daughters and sons of light.

I am a father of journeys. I remind you the dark
can be conquered by love-blasting fire. I made the air and wind
a compassionate homeland. Be at home in the light.”

(Maura Eichner)

unclean

2007-06-04T17:43:00.000+10:00

I have been preparing to speak at a mission expo held this coming weekend and the theme is Luke's missiology in the book of Acts. Luke spends a fair amount of space recording the story of Peter and Cornelius. I am intrigued by it. Some interesting quotes below.

Every aspect of Luke’s missiology has a levelling or boundary-transcending effect
(Stan Nussbaum)

Something incredibly important is happening here. With the gospel to the Gentiles, Christianity is wrenched from its roots in Judaism. This is what “grace” means in the Christian vocabulary: a smashing of the boundaries that keep people apart and which keep God away... This cleansing was not for Jews only; it was to include all whose heart was turned to God and who would proclaim Jesus as God’s Messiah. Indeed, this cleansing was so complete that it would bring near to God those whom the law would have kept at a distance.
(J. Julius Scott, Jr)

Proclaiming Jesus as God's Messiah. That certainly opens up some interesting questions when it comes to different cultures and worldviews, doesn't it? Luke's missiology transcends class, ethnicity and maybe even some of my closely held theology.

wild love

2007-05-31T19:16:00.000+10:00

Sometimes, I think I'm missing something. I seem to know so much about God. I've studied, I've read books, I've learned doctrines, I've heard thousands of sermons. Yet for all of this, I have this deep desire to know God through experience, from experience. I want to know God through my lived life. I guess what I am saying is that I really want to be a mystic.

What is it about Hafiz's poetry that calls to me, that says "there's so much more"? God, I guess.

Throw away
All your begging bowls at God's door,

For I have heard the Beloved
Prefers sweet threatening shouts,

Something on the order of:

"Hey, Beloved,
My heart is a raging volcano
Of love for you!

You better start kissing me -
Or Else!"

(Hafiz)

Dorothee Soelle says, "The madness of this love is exactly what mystics live on."

romans 12:21

2007-05-30T21:37:00.000+10:00

To triumph fully, evil needs two victories, not one. The first victory happens when an evil deed is perpetrated; the second victory, when evil is returned. After the first victory, evil would die if the second victory did not infuse it with new life.

(Miroslav Volf "The end of memory: Remembering rightly in a violent world")

I started reading Volf's new book this morning. In the opening chapter, I came across this quote and it set me thinking about Jesus. A great evil was perpetrated when Jesus was nailed to a cross; a first victory. But when Jesus said, "Father forgive them...", evil was denied a second victory, denied new life. As a follower of Jesus this has serious implications for my life and for evil that taints my relationships and world.

I am looking forward to the rest of the book and hopefully will keep you posted.

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

Romans 12:21

incarnation

2007-05-28T09:43:00.000+10:00

During this last month, I have been speaking at many places, to heaps of people about mission. The thing I keep coming back to is incarnation, incarnation as the starting point. Tom Sine in his book Mustard Seed versus McWorld writes, "I am convinced that the first call of the gospel is to incarnation. Only as we flesh out in community something of the right-side-up values of God's new order do we have any basis on which to speak or act". If we are "followers" of Jesus then Jesus' incarnation holds deep implications for us. Not least is the attitude we start with; compassion.

On the Mystery of the Incarnation

It's when we face for a moment
the worst our kind can do, and shudder to know
the taint is in our own selves, that awe
cracks the mind's shell and enters the heart:
not to a flower, not to a dolphin,
to no innocent form
but to this creature vainly sure
it and no other is god-like, God
(out of compassion for our ugly
failure to evolve) entrusts,
as guest, as brother,
the Word.

Denise Levertov

markets

2007-05-24T21:14:00.000+10:00

In one of my early primary classes at Pakenham consolidated school, we were learning to spell six letter words. When we came to the word 'market' the teacher looked directly at me and speaking quite sternly said, "you had better not get this one wrong my boy".

I love markets. The smells, the intimacy of people rubbing shoulders, the cacophony of sounds, the colours, the amazing variety of goods, the eclectic bunch of stall holders... All this seems to remind me that I belong to a great and long history of people who have weekly or monthly gathered at markets to buy and sell and barter and share life.

My life journey has included quite a few markets. Some have left very distinct memories. The Dandy market with its auctions, bag snatchers and street preachers. Tiom market in the back blocks of Indonesia, populated by Dani tribes people selling and buying veges, chickens, various articles of clothing and the occasional pig. Bandung market with mud, frogs legs, snails, bat meat and every other conceiveable type of food. Queen Vic market with its amazing deli section, fish, meat and fresh fruit and vege. Banda Aceh market surviving after the tsunami to provide a fantastic array of exotic food and veges for the hard-pushed thousands still struggling to live. The South Melbourne market, a great place for among other things, freshly cooked dim sims, Chinese dumplings and hemp clothing.

To me, markets seem to have a whiff of community that shopping centres and supermarkets lack.

churchill national park

2007-05-23T20:57:00.000+10:00

This small park lies on the southern slopes of the Lysterfield Hills and is only a hop, step and jump from my parents home in Rowville. Churchill Park at 193 ha is one of the few remaining areas of natural bushland close to Melbourne and holds about 100 species of birds. I have seen quite a variety of birds here at different times of the year including some Peregrine Falcons, excellent hunters of other small birds. My Dad tells me he has been lucky enough to see some handsome Gang-gang Cockatoos. Below is juvenile Grey Butcherbird I found sitting just inside the front gate last Saturday afternoon.

as i am

2007-05-19T12:45:00.000+10:00

Because we are loved we can trust, for "love casts out fear" (1 John 4:18). We are not afraid to share the deepest core of our being or even our fumbling to understand that being. Such trust develops out of time spent with the Lord on a regular basis in spite of how we feel, believing, in spite of dryness, or headache, or emptiness, or restlessness, that the Lord is working in us. Prayer has much to do, then, with believing that the Lord loves us as we are, rather than as how or who we would like to be.

(Dyckman & Carroll - "Inviting the mystic supporting the prophet")

Here I am, Lord. Here I am, in this place, for this day. Here I am, Lord, as I am, just as I am, not as I feel I ought to be. No, here I am, just as I am, with all my real thoughts, real feelings, real worries and concerns, and also my deeper wishes and desires. I come before you Lord just as I am.

(prayer from Sacred Space)

ephesians 2:7

2007-05-16T09:45:00.000+10:00

The words of this old hymn have been washing round in my mind these last few days. In the midst of of the "tightness" of life at the moment - Val starting an intense study block as well as working, Caleb finishing his pre-apprenticeship course and looking for work, May mission month and all that means for my schedule - I want to give room for the "washing" of these words.

There's a wideness in God's mercy,
Like the wideness of the sea:
There's a kindness in his justice,
Which is more than liberty.

For the love of God is broader
Than the measures of man's mind;
And the heart of the Eternal
Is most wonderfully kind.

(Frederick Faber)