The hilarity of obscenity

Footprints. I don't know whether you've ever seen some fresh cement, and had the urge to walk across, concreting your green flash in geological history.

Well guess what? We've recently had our pathway resurfaced as part of an external works programme carried out by our social landlord. They did it in the afternoon. That fateful night (monday actually!) whilst I was away, some local young people etched an obscenity in the freshly poured cement.

"W***ers" it read, or so I have been told, hastily fixed by giggling builders the following day.

I had to join them (the builders that is, not the young people) in this sentiment. The lads who did it even signed their names. Hats off to you Sam and JJ.

I wanted to use this space to publicly thank the couple of charming young men who had the decency to write such obscenities in my pathway. A few 'pointers' for you boys:

1. Footprints would have done.

2. I've been feeling a little demotivated recently, and this actually made me laugh rather loudly to myself as I walked to the bus stop this morning! You encouraged me to lighten up a bit, so thanks!

It's funny how in our concrete jungle, we've replaced stealing apples from old couple's gardens, with an urban equivalent: tagging and grafitti.

In all seriousness though, sometimes the best way to deal with such things is to laugh, and then hastily reach for the trowel... before the neighbours take offence. I'm sure they worked at floors to go.

blessings from the infidels

I'm getting tired of the sound of my busy typing fingers this week. From a once a month guy when it comes to blogs, I've sprayed colours into the blogosphere a lot this week. But there are reasons; the first thing to say is that my week has been particularly beautiful. This morning a received an amazing email from a friend.

He encouraged me to "keep praying". This was encouraging. He's not even a christian! And his email was warm, the funniest I think I have ever received. It exposed those lies people tell through their keyboards all the time... I genuinely laughed out loud. Probably woke the neighbours it was that funny.

My second encounter today was with Mormons in Ashton on my way to pick up some groceries. They were decent blokes. It's a shame they didn't follow Jesus as God. They would have made good Christians: very polite, reverent, honest, loving, friendly... norwegian. (honestly, one of them was!!!)

Not the wooden people you come to expect trying to sell you something, but people on a journey, who believed they'd found God, and wanted to tell the world about him. They even laughed when my phone went off, blaring the James Bond Title music in the Newspaper room at Ashton Public Library... if there's one place you don't want it to go off, then trust me, it's the newspaper room... the looks you'll get will tarnish one generations view of another forever!

Both of these instances were with people who don't know Jesus as God yet: "infidels" was the politically incorrect term that used to be used. I would not use such language: God loves each of these people with an unshakable passion.

We need that Palestinian refugee to teach us and to show us. I need his footsteps to follow more than ever.

'But the people grumbled and said "He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner"'. Luke 19:7 NRSV

It makes me laugh with a beautiful and appreciative Joy! LOL!

clinging to whose cross?

I love my mum. She's one of the most incredible women alive. I ring her every week to chat things through. She's one of my best friends. Now before you get out a violin, a tissue or maybe a noose, let me set my comments in some sort of context. Along with a few friends, I had pottered along to a teatime church service (it wasn't songs of praise live, I promise!) After the sermon, we sang one of my favourite songs of the moment: Tim Hughes' "Clinging to the Cross"

It speaks of how the writers find thier hope in God, despite the trials that the world brings. I love this song, and identify with it's sentiments. The problem I have with it is this; it's really quite gnostic. I'll explain; some might be offended by this, it's a bit of a rant, but please engage me in conversation about it. What do you think?

Firstly, the idea that we have to "let go of all earthly things" is completely at odds with the message of Jesus. In fact, he embraced the world, and came to be exactly like us, in order to save us from sin, not the world. If he hasn't, then I can never be healed - he's just saved my soul, and that is not sufficient for the ressurrection that Christians believe in, nor is it capable of overcoming the vices of our bodies. Rather, he came to teach us to "let go of all of these things" which hold us back, make us stumble, trap us in fear; embracing his new way of living.

Further, if we ask God to "lead me home" we may not get what we bargained for; we are humans, our home is the earth, our humanity is not evil; it was created by God. I appreciate that our world is alienated by the first and continual mess of human bad living, but he made the world and saw that it was good! We're asking God to transform our lives now, leading us back to a place of Christ-like living - though we are citizens of heaven, we live on earth, and seek "his kingdom come". "Lead me to the lost"; "teach me of the cost" - this is the life we are called to, not removal from the sufferings through eternal disembodiment, floating in the clouds.

How much more powerful if we realised that this is the place to which Jesus will return? He will wipe away the tears from our faces - HERE! He has called us to be people who bring in his kingdom, and that means we have the power of God behind us, beneath us and within us. If we save all our eschatology for heaven, then that's where our hope ends up, leaving us nothing to offer those around us. Our eyes are in the sky, waiting for Jesus to come and save us from the "evil" world that we live in. The advance of God's kingdom until the return of the king is a massively powerful message. That's a story I'm happy to put my hope in. Someone who will turn our ashes into beauty, rebuild fallen walls, plant an oasis in the desert. Rather than discarding the world in favour of the spirit, renewing them.

And this was the rant I shared with Mum! She was gracious. Needed to think about it I think.

So what do you think? I'm not talking about the song now... you have the floor... feel free to comment. N.B. If anything is used as a weapon against someone, I'll delete it.

Whose cross do we cling to? Where is our home? What are the things we are to let go of?

follow the star

Yesterday I went to starbucks. It's a bit of a habit sometimes. As we sat in the surreal, generic, oil clad world that is this fantastical place of abnormal caffeine and sugar inhalation, my friend and I chatted. Whilst he watered the horses, I found a pencil in my pocket. Our conversation had been intriguing, I could sense God speaking to me, so I grabbed a napkin, scrawling some notes, stuffed it into my coat pocket and read it this morning. It made enormous sense. I opened my bible, began to read where I felt the chase was leading; it was a chase, as more came to me. Sifting through, I found him.

Rumbled. God had allowed me to blaze the trail, making tracks through the minds of others, using memory, bible, intuition, feelings, other authors. It resonated with me... an enchanting romance! No tacky residue in sight. The day was dripping with the stains of his goodness. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

a dream

The trees sat squat in the hills. Bush branches grew towards their trunks, clutching the sky, as the Sun sank lazily within it. Mist began to rise from the freshly ploughed earth, gracing the rolling hills as it drifted. The earth was detoxing after the long hard season. The clouds were like a watercolour painting; a cheerful family ambled across the dampened fields in brightly coloured winter thermals, receive this Yuletide season. Everything around me was moving, and so was I.

A fire was lit by the side of a nearby house, the flames dancing, beckoning in a new year. In an instant, the world was enveloped in darkness. The tunnel dragged us in, and as it did, a world of memories was opened like a tin of beans; sound bounded around its container.


Light burst through the darkness of the carriage and we picked up the flow of the river, ever faster as we marched towards our destination. And then everything stopped. Suddenly the journey was interrupted. The station slowly pulled us in. We reached a halt. I received a text. I had left my sandwiches on the kitchen worktop.

Then nothing for ages, until the key hit the lock, twisting in it, the world rotating like drum in my washing machine. And now fresh snow sits on the lawn. It is poised for the suns of spring. What will this melting bring?