So we're well into our second month in Auckland. If you can call Browns Bay Auckland. We are really in the far north, and the big city is well out of view. We have been to the airport quite a bit - that in itself is like a major journey, especially considering we were able to walk to Wellington airport in our previous abode.
The "bay" as they call it is a small village, a curious mix of holiday feel and residential units in the village, surrounded by businesses and an array of fitness institutions and dance schools. The Presbyterian church is in Anzac Road just a few hundred metres from the sea. Right opposite is a very nice butcher who makes great biltong. Our new doctor is just up the road at the Medical Centre. All within walking distance really.
South Africans abound in the area - in every business or shop you will meet them. It's a very curious feeling hearing those now almost unfamiliar accents each day. The family mix is a bit different at home too. Our eldest is in Pretoria for a few months. The remaining four of us have been added to by a now 15 week puppy called Jessie, a labrador cross collie who is a busy little family member who enjoys her daily walks in the local park - a real gem with a walkway and stream with ducks and other locals.
The change in lifestyle is quite marked - with just Robin working at present. Keeping an eye on Jessie during the puppy years does require a lot of attention - and she does enjoy having company at home.
The winter is just around the corner, but as yet we have not really felt that cold - temperatures are a good 4 to 5 degrees higher than Wellington. Auckland's rain is notorious - it can rain and shine at regular intervals within a few hours. the difference is that the rain is vertical compared to the wind-driven horizontal version the capital offers.
Well enough for this Sunday evening. Tomorrow is not a working day - it is a change not rushing off to school each Monday morning. More later.
Sunday, 22 May 2011
Thursday, 13 January 2011
January in Wellington
So here we are well into the new year. Two weeks down and fifty to go.
At the beginning of the year we were able to testify that the new year seemed safe enough as we communicated with people on the other side of the date line. Perhaps we were wrong.
The abundance of rain – monsoon rains or otherwise – and the floods we have seen, described by an Australian as being of “biblical” proportions, has brought chaos across three continents this week. Australian and Sri Lankan floods, Brazilian land slips – perhaps the weather watchers are right about global warming after all.
Here in Wellington we have yet to experience the big one – the earthquake that is inevitable. In 1855 in the Wairarapa, not far from here in seismic terms, an 8.2 earthquake caused a shake up on 23rd January, the 15th Wellington Anniversary Day. As Anniversary day comes around again it makes you think.
The advantages of that quake were threefold. More land to use in the city (one can find the old water line marked in a street), a decent road and rail link to the Hutt Valley, and a cricket stadium in an area called the “Basin Reserve” – the area was thus a nice place to park your yacht, if you had one.
If we get another big one, we are told that the whole lot will go down again. Underwater cricket, like underwater hockey our favourite spectator sport, could be the latest Olympic challenge.
We will be at the Basin Reserve tomorrow to watch New Zealand’s Black Caps play Pakistan. Hopefully we won’t need a snorkel and goggles as we watch them drown again. The last game ended dismally on the third day.
In the meantime the 14th of January is a pleasant sunny day with a pleasant southerly breeze. What to do? We could carry on packing and sorting, or we could go out and enjoy the capital of the wobbly islands, said to be second only to New York as a world capital. True enough, it’s quite a small capital. But it has its beauty. And given the right kind of earthquake, could have a new series of islands. Not as big or fancy as Manhattan, Staten or Long islands, but then the peninsula we live on will probably be an island again! It does not compare of course. Our suburb was described by an unimpressed and here unnamed relative as being like “Umbilo during the war”. Only Durban people would get that!
We think of the thousands displaced by floods around the world this week, especially our Australian cousins in Queensland, who are showing their standard grit and determination that make them great at many things including cricket.
Happy New Year sounds a bit thin in this context. Courageous perhaps – filled with love and community spirit that exudes resilience and compassion.
Dominus Vobiscum.
At the beginning of the year we were able to testify that the new year seemed safe enough as we communicated with people on the other side of the date line. Perhaps we were wrong.
The abundance of rain – monsoon rains or otherwise – and the floods we have seen, described by an Australian as being of “biblical” proportions, has brought chaos across three continents this week. Australian and Sri Lankan floods, Brazilian land slips – perhaps the weather watchers are right about global warming after all.
Here in Wellington we have yet to experience the big one – the earthquake that is inevitable. In 1855 in the Wairarapa, not far from here in seismic terms, an 8.2 earthquake caused a shake up on 23rd January, the 15th Wellington Anniversary Day. As Anniversary day comes around again it makes you think.
The advantages of that quake were threefold. More land to use in the city (one can find the old water line marked in a street), a decent road and rail link to the Hutt Valley, and a cricket stadium in an area called the “Basin Reserve” – the area was thus a nice place to park your yacht, if you had one.
If we get another big one, we are told that the whole lot will go down again. Underwater cricket, like underwater hockey our favourite spectator sport, could be the latest Olympic challenge.
We will be at the Basin Reserve tomorrow to watch New Zealand’s Black Caps play Pakistan. Hopefully we won’t need a snorkel and goggles as we watch them drown again. The last game ended dismally on the third day.
In the meantime the 14th of January is a pleasant sunny day with a pleasant southerly breeze. What to do? We could carry on packing and sorting, or we could go out and enjoy the capital of the wobbly islands, said to be second only to New York as a world capital. True enough, it’s quite a small capital. But it has its beauty. And given the right kind of earthquake, could have a new series of islands. Not as big or fancy as Manhattan, Staten or Long islands, but then the peninsula we live on will probably be an island again! It does not compare of course. Our suburb was described by an unimpressed and here unnamed relative as being like “Umbilo during the war”. Only Durban people would get that!
We think of the thousands displaced by floods around the world this week, especially our Australian cousins in Queensland, who are showing their standard grit and determination that make them great at many things including cricket.
Happy New Year sounds a bit thin in this context. Courageous perhaps – filled with love and community spirit that exudes resilience and compassion.
Dominus Vobiscum.
Monday, 3 January 2011
So you think this year is going to end...
(Written before the end of 2010)
I've been wondering about this end of the year thing. It's a bit like the date line. It had to go somewhere. People have various new year celebrations. This one, with its number system, is quite convenient I suppose. Number two thousand no hundred and ten is about to be finished. Roll along two thousand no hundred and eleven.
Fifty times I have been through this ritual - initially with parents but more recently as a parent of older children. The idea is that you leave the stuff behind in this year and start again with the new one - a new blank page, a new diary for traditionalists, and a new beginning. New hopes and dreams. Sometimes new homes and jobs. New intentions to be better at some things, and to lose the things that weigh us down, both physically and metaphorically.
The truth is the year won't end. We can't leave behind the things that have happened - even though we may hope that the next year will be much much better. We take with us the memories of lovely people who have died. We carry with us the memories of people who have challenged and exhausted us - of colleagues and friends who have journeyed with us and supported us - and of the tragedies and disasters that have forever shattered families and communities.
I've been to church a few times recently - lots of Christmas services. Twice I've picked up on a prayer used in which the Priest prayed, I think, about being inside or outside of time. I'm sure that's what I heard - twice. I could be forgiven for making it up once. The Christian faith is about eternal life - a life that begins now in relationship with God through Christ, a life in love, and a promise that not even death can separate us from this love of God.
My belief about death is uncomplicated. We move outside of time. The numbering of the years does not matter then. We dwell with an eternal God who I suspect, not being bound by time, sees it all at once. Not surprisingly, we are not to consult fortune tellers and astrology is not required - forget the stars. A simple faith in God who is above all means that we are to trust him fully for the bit of time we have labelled 2011.
May your next bit of time on earth, conveniently divided into days and months, be filled with this love that Jesus showed forth in his life, death and resurrection. Read the resurrection accounts in the New Testament. It's quite lovely how Jesus showed up when the doors were locked. Not a ghost, he confounded them with a rather nice barbecue on a beach. And of course it wasn't easy to describe how he left them at the end. Hidden by a cloud perhaps? He has not hidden his truth from us.
Following him in this bit of life labelled 2011 will make for a better journey. Thankfully we take with us the courage and faith that kept us moving steadfastly forward through this year, and the best promise of all - that He will never leave us or forsake us - that He is with us always!
I've been wondering about this end of the year thing. It's a bit like the date line. It had to go somewhere. People have various new year celebrations. This one, with its number system, is quite convenient I suppose. Number two thousand no hundred and ten is about to be finished. Roll along two thousand no hundred and eleven.
Fifty times I have been through this ritual - initially with parents but more recently as a parent of older children. The idea is that you leave the stuff behind in this year and start again with the new one - a new blank page, a new diary for traditionalists, and a new beginning. New hopes and dreams. Sometimes new homes and jobs. New intentions to be better at some things, and to lose the things that weigh us down, both physically and metaphorically.
The truth is the year won't end. We can't leave behind the things that have happened - even though we may hope that the next year will be much much better. We take with us the memories of lovely people who have died. We carry with us the memories of people who have challenged and exhausted us - of colleagues and friends who have journeyed with us and supported us - and of the tragedies and disasters that have forever shattered families and communities.
I've been to church a few times recently - lots of Christmas services. Twice I've picked up on a prayer used in which the Priest prayed, I think, about being inside or outside of time. I'm sure that's what I heard - twice. I could be forgiven for making it up once. The Christian faith is about eternal life - a life that begins now in relationship with God through Christ, a life in love, and a promise that not even death can separate us from this love of God.
My belief about death is uncomplicated. We move outside of time. The numbering of the years does not matter then. We dwell with an eternal God who I suspect, not being bound by time, sees it all at once. Not surprisingly, we are not to consult fortune tellers and astrology is not required - forget the stars. A simple faith in God who is above all means that we are to trust him fully for the bit of time we have labelled 2011.
May your next bit of time on earth, conveniently divided into days and months, be filled with this love that Jesus showed forth in his life, death and resurrection. Read the resurrection accounts in the New Testament. It's quite lovely how Jesus showed up when the doors were locked. Not a ghost, he confounded them with a rather nice barbecue on a beach. And of course it wasn't easy to describe how he left them at the end. Hidden by a cloud perhaps? He has not hidden his truth from us.
Following him in this bit of life labelled 2011 will make for a better journey. Thankfully we take with us the courage and faith that kept us moving steadfastly forward through this year, and the best promise of all - that He will never leave us or forsake us - that He is with us always!
Sunday, 2 January 2011
And a Merry Christmas to you too.
(From the December edition of "Quad" Magazine).
Quite amazing it is that we are talking about Christmas already. Apart from the speed at which “time flies” in our lives, it seems peculiar to be assailed by festive advertisements towards the end of October. How merry we are when Christmas injects life into our ailing economies around the world. But are we really happy?
Our year ones and twos watched a delightful story in the Veggie Tales series about “Madame Blueberry” – yes a blueberry with a French accent, who was horribly duped into overspending by some scheming salespeople from a local departmental store. The plethora of goods and gadgets failed to induce a state of happiness in this dear woman. The boys were quick to remind me of this outcome when I asked them what they could remember about the term’s work in Religious Education. Stuff doesn’t make you happy, as nice as it may be to upgrade things all the time. In the case of Madame Blueberry, she remained so “blue” despite her goodies and goods. At the end of the story, when her tree house fell down from the weight of her purchases, good friends saved the day.
It is no real surprise when we hear from researchers that our forbears did not get depressed because they had plenty of sunshine, exercise, good community life (relationships a priority!), ample sleep and a good diet. Somehow the picture of sleepy children clinging to a computer in the dark, feeding on junk food and talking to people in cyberspace, doesn’t match this hope of a non-depressed existence. The boys at school look at me very suspiciously, of course, when (on those rare Wellington sunny days) I chase them out of the passages into the sunlight muttering about fresh air and the sun’s gift of vitamin D being good for their low moods.
So as Christmas comes along, beware the fact that our moods are mixed by a combination of festivities and memories that are painful, and the added arrival of equally challenging relatives! Like weddings and funerals, these important rituals mean that we get together to reconstitute the networks that once would have been common in extended families. The beauty of permanent extended families is that people benefit from ongoing support and have no choice but to forgive each others’ failings and work together! Our isolation in “western” societies has the potential of breeding separation and a dubious self-sufficiency which detaches us.
What’s to be done then? Read Dickens’ A Christmas Carol? Perhaps. A Scrooge-type conversion would make the world nicer – but it’s more than individual change that is needed. Corporations and the wealthy ones who invest in them, and in many countries governments and leaders, are probably all in need of a major transformation or change of heart. We need more than just a festive season as well.
The year will run its course. There will be many celebrations of success and progress in the lives of our students and their families. Well done to so many who have given it their best shot and more! For those who are moving on to new adventures and places, we wish you well. For all of us – there is the hope and prayer that our happiness will be deeper and wider, richer and stronger than the temporary joys of a festive season’s merriment.
The quest for meaning in life - to quote psychotherapist Viktor Frankl - the “will to meaning,” still rates high in our human pursuit for happiness and fulfillment. Frankl, a holocaust survivor, remained resolute in his thinking that happiness can never be a direct goal. How easily we fall into that trap, especially as parents, when we want our children, above all else, to be “happy”. This Viennese psychiatrist suggested that we can live through anything if we have something to live for.
Happiness is the by-product of fulfilled and purposeful lives in which we live for a greater power or cause outside of ourselves. At Christmas we celebrate the birth of Christ, described both as the light of the world and the desire of nations. There is no better model than his loving and sacrificial life, the one fittingly described as “a man for others”. It is this Jesus who calls us to follow Him. May you find fulfillment in your quest for a truly happy and successful future, and may God bless you richly.
Quite amazing it is that we are talking about Christmas already. Apart from the speed at which “time flies” in our lives, it seems peculiar to be assailed by festive advertisements towards the end of October. How merry we are when Christmas injects life into our ailing economies around the world. But are we really happy?
Our year ones and twos watched a delightful story in the Veggie Tales series about “Madame Blueberry” – yes a blueberry with a French accent, who was horribly duped into overspending by some scheming salespeople from a local departmental store. The plethora of goods and gadgets failed to induce a state of happiness in this dear woman. The boys were quick to remind me of this outcome when I asked them what they could remember about the term’s work in Religious Education. Stuff doesn’t make you happy, as nice as it may be to upgrade things all the time. In the case of Madame Blueberry, she remained so “blue” despite her goodies and goods. At the end of the story, when her tree house fell down from the weight of her purchases, good friends saved the day.
It is no real surprise when we hear from researchers that our forbears did not get depressed because they had plenty of sunshine, exercise, good community life (relationships a priority!), ample sleep and a good diet. Somehow the picture of sleepy children clinging to a computer in the dark, feeding on junk food and talking to people in cyberspace, doesn’t match this hope of a non-depressed existence. The boys at school look at me very suspiciously, of course, when (on those rare Wellington sunny days) I chase them out of the passages into the sunlight muttering about fresh air and the sun’s gift of vitamin D being good for their low moods.
So as Christmas comes along, beware the fact that our moods are mixed by a combination of festivities and memories that are painful, and the added arrival of equally challenging relatives! Like weddings and funerals, these important rituals mean that we get together to reconstitute the networks that once would have been common in extended families. The beauty of permanent extended families is that people benefit from ongoing support and have no choice but to forgive each others’ failings and work together! Our isolation in “western” societies has the potential of breeding separation and a dubious self-sufficiency which detaches us.
What’s to be done then? Read Dickens’ A Christmas Carol? Perhaps. A Scrooge-type conversion would make the world nicer – but it’s more than individual change that is needed. Corporations and the wealthy ones who invest in them, and in many countries governments and leaders, are probably all in need of a major transformation or change of heart. We need more than just a festive season as well.
The year will run its course. There will be many celebrations of success and progress in the lives of our students and their families. Well done to so many who have given it their best shot and more! For those who are moving on to new adventures and places, we wish you well. For all of us – there is the hope and prayer that our happiness will be deeper and wider, richer and stronger than the temporary joys of a festive season’s merriment.
The quest for meaning in life - to quote psychotherapist Viktor Frankl - the “will to meaning,” still rates high in our human pursuit for happiness and fulfillment. Frankl, a holocaust survivor, remained resolute in his thinking that happiness can never be a direct goal. How easily we fall into that trap, especially as parents, when we want our children, above all else, to be “happy”. This Viennese psychiatrist suggested that we can live through anything if we have something to live for.
Happiness is the by-product of fulfilled and purposeful lives in which we live for a greater power or cause outside of ourselves. At Christmas we celebrate the birth of Christ, described both as the light of the world and the desire of nations. There is no better model than his loving and sacrificial life, the one fittingly described as “a man for others”. It is this Jesus who calls us to follow Him. May you find fulfillment in your quest for a truly happy and successful future, and may God bless you richly.
Monday, 13 December 2010
Birthday reflections
I read an end of year reflection by a young man this morning who is on a plane right now jetting off to my country of birth! A very good read indeed! I was wondering what I could possibly say that would reflect my own gratitude at this time.
The year has ended with the loss of a young man from our College. Trying to celebrate while sharing the enormous sense of community grief and shock is not an easy balancing act. As one whose trade is in words (I'm paid to use them, I've been told) - there are times when I too have no words. Just a deep groaning, the painful agony that we share. But then one more proficient in words once penned these: “Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.” So I will dredge up some words in the midst of this deep sad space. So many people have extended such grace and care for me - and even the list of birthday wishes from so many is in inspiration and a huge help. Thank you!
There isn't a moment in our lives when people are not dying - where somewhere on this weary planet the painful tearing of loss does not rip loved ones from their lovers. And in the midst of these separations, tiny new hands reach out as wailing living bundles of joy are warmly welcomed by a mother's exhausted arms and caring soothing hands.
This is life. The loss of a young man - a child, son, brother, grandson and friend, is both tragic and terrible. We will yet move along this bumpy road of clumsy goodbyes and awkward questions laced with frail vulnerability. We will hold on to each other and hopefully - hold on to our gracious Lord and God of whom my many words over all these years have valiantly tried to redirect the thoughts and wills of very sharp minds and passionate hearts.
This is our life. How can we risk the agony of walking on this road alone? So as you share my birthday with me - take some time to share the deepest thoughts and feelings you have today with another traveller. There are many good people close at hand with compassion and listening hearts who will help you comprehend even your darkest days!
And shout out loud the celebrations - bold declarations that this life - so deep and wide and high and long - is full of loves and eager expectations, dreams and hopes which we yet will share together.
Shalom.
The year has ended with the loss of a young man from our College. Trying to celebrate while sharing the enormous sense of community grief and shock is not an easy balancing act. As one whose trade is in words (I'm paid to use them, I've been told) - there are times when I too have no words. Just a deep groaning, the painful agony that we share. But then one more proficient in words once penned these: “Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.” So I will dredge up some words in the midst of this deep sad space. So many people have extended such grace and care for me - and even the list of birthday wishes from so many is in inspiration and a huge help. Thank you!
There isn't a moment in our lives when people are not dying - where somewhere on this weary planet the painful tearing of loss does not rip loved ones from their lovers. And in the midst of these separations, tiny new hands reach out as wailing living bundles of joy are warmly welcomed by a mother's exhausted arms and caring soothing hands.
This is life. The loss of a young man - a child, son, brother, grandson and friend, is both tragic and terrible. We will yet move along this bumpy road of clumsy goodbyes and awkward questions laced with frail vulnerability. We will hold on to each other and hopefully - hold on to our gracious Lord and God of whom my many words over all these years have valiantly tried to redirect the thoughts and wills of very sharp minds and passionate hearts.
This is our life. How can we risk the agony of walking on this road alone? So as you share my birthday with me - take some time to share the deepest thoughts and feelings you have today with another traveller. There are many good people close at hand with compassion and listening hearts who will help you comprehend even your darkest days!
And shout out loud the celebrations - bold declarations that this life - so deep and wide and high and long - is full of loves and eager expectations, dreams and hopes which we yet will share together.
Shalom.
Friday, 3 December 2010
Advent
We remain people of the south. None of this wet white or sludgy Christmas with melting snow. For the last week we have had real southern summer - such a familiar feeling with real sunshine and warmth. I need a bigger hat! A-la the westerns of old, perhaps a cowboy version, having already had two sessions with our beloved doctor and her liquid nitrogen cylinder which reminds me of a shaving cream or instant whipped cream dispenser! The manifestations of actinic keratosis have been nuked! Of course its also termed senile keratosis which is a novel thought as my next 50-something birthday is next week! :-) Perhaps a larger bowling hat will help!
We have reached some milestones as I alluded to in my shorter earlier epistle. All three children are now post-secondary education. How we remember with exhaustion years of school trips. We are also in that peculiar state where we have indicated we are leaving Wellington but realise that there is still much to be done in the interim months - December to March! The waiting game? A time of preparation...
For this reason I have been reading again on parish/congregational ministry - the work of "pastor" with its peculiar demands. Appropriately I have begun with "Ministry Burnout" by John Sanford, interspersed with a newish biography on John Calvin! The first of these reminds me about what Gordon MacDonald termed "VDP's" - the very draining people termed by Kunkel (as quoted by Sanford) as "clinging vines." I am sure I will have lots of VIPs - very inspiring people!
My reading of the book on Calvin's life reveals a fascinating pattern which the reformer conformed to - he was hired as a chaplain and then hired a lesser mortal to do his job at a lower rate of pay. Thus he had time to study and research! An entirely acceptable practice, it seems, which I have sadly discovered too late in my work as chaplain here! Bother.
The Advent season here is not really adhered to by the bulk of shoppers - they are not waiting but shopping like crazy. The spending season has been rolling along. The anticipation of presents I am sure is exciting for the youngsters. We enjoy the Christmas traditions - they have a nurturing function in terms of the wonderful memories that are evoked.
Waiting on the Lord is another thing altogether. Tomorrow the bishop of Wellington is preaching at our local church. I am sure he will enlighten us all. We visited the Cathedral this morning and saw some amazing paintings by children of Gaza - which expose the raw pain of war and conflict and the hope of new life and peace. There must be much waiting for new beginnings in so many parts of the world.
We remember those families of the 29 trapped miners at Pike river - who are now waiting only for the recovery of their remains. We remember those who are waiting for employment, for healing, for faith and hope to be restored. From tomorrow's readings:
Rom 15:13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
May you be blessed at this time as you wait on the Lord, and reflect on his first and second comings.
We have reached some milestones as I alluded to in my shorter earlier epistle. All three children are now post-secondary education. How we remember with exhaustion years of school trips. We are also in that peculiar state where we have indicated we are leaving Wellington but realise that there is still much to be done in the interim months - December to March! The waiting game? A time of preparation...
For this reason I have been reading again on parish/congregational ministry - the work of "pastor" with its peculiar demands. Appropriately I have begun with "Ministry Burnout" by John Sanford, interspersed with a newish biography on John Calvin! The first of these reminds me about what Gordon MacDonald termed "VDP's" - the very draining people termed by Kunkel (as quoted by Sanford) as "clinging vines." I am sure I will have lots of VIPs - very inspiring people!
My reading of the book on Calvin's life reveals a fascinating pattern which the reformer conformed to - he was hired as a chaplain and then hired a lesser mortal to do his job at a lower rate of pay. Thus he had time to study and research! An entirely acceptable practice, it seems, which I have sadly discovered too late in my work as chaplain here! Bother.
The Advent season here is not really adhered to by the bulk of shoppers - they are not waiting but shopping like crazy. The spending season has been rolling along. The anticipation of presents I am sure is exciting for the youngsters. We enjoy the Christmas traditions - they have a nurturing function in terms of the wonderful memories that are evoked.
Waiting on the Lord is another thing altogether. Tomorrow the bishop of Wellington is preaching at our local church. I am sure he will enlighten us all. We visited the Cathedral this morning and saw some amazing paintings by children of Gaza - which expose the raw pain of war and conflict and the hope of new life and peace. There must be much waiting for new beginnings in so many parts of the world.
We remember those families of the 29 trapped miners at Pike river - who are now waiting only for the recovery of their remains. We remember those who are waiting for employment, for healing, for faith and hope to be restored. From tomorrow's readings:
Rom 15:13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
May you be blessed at this time as you wait on the Lord, and reflect on his first and second comings.
Friday, 4 June 2010
Reflections on Queen's birthday weekend
It's been a while since I posted anything personal here. I thought I would say something about the Monarchy. Princess Elizabeth Alexandra Mary was born on April 21, 1926. Her birthday celebration here in New Zealand on an apparently unrelated date has given us a long weekend. Now amongst my many friends there are bound to be some raving republicans. I B sure that some of my work colleagues are thinking that the weekend is not long enough, although the boys at school get 5 days! I think that when this weekend break comes all of us are staunchly royalist in a most selfless manner.
My contention is that in a rapidly changing and chaotic world Queen Elizabeth II has been a rather nice and constant pillar of strength. She was born eight months after my mum. So their lives were lived in virtual parallel. She simply was. And she is, despite the amazing misfortunes that have beset her sometimes wayward family. She has exhibited a stoicism and resilience in the face of decades of very challenging human history. She has seen so many Prime Ministers come and go. And her nation has changed in its fabric and imperial influence through these busy years.
My mum died on the same day as Princess Diana, and on what would have been my parents' 40th wedding anniversary. My emotional ties with the royal family are peculiar on account of this. A young and deeply painful life ended, and people mourned in a way that Britain will no doubt not see again. But Elizabeth remains on the throne. And should she be as strong as her mother, we may find that she will outlive some of us. How steadfast that institution.
Is there some hidden message here? I could speak of the unchanging love of God as an ultimate bulwark and protection from the ravages of change. Greater than the notion of resilience of a human throne is the faithfulness of a heavenly lover, a God portrayed as immutable and steadfast, One who never lets us go.
In the words of the Psalmist - "Your love reaches to the heavens, and your faithfulness to the clouds."
I could also speak of the One whose love for us paid a price for our adoption into the family of the Faithful One. The writer to the Hebrews puts it thus:
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God."
It is to the one who is seated at the right hand of the throne of God that we turn for our ultimate assurance and sense of continuity - Jesus the same yesterday, today and forever.
Be loved, beloved, and filled with His life forever.
My contention is that in a rapidly changing and chaotic world Queen Elizabeth II has been a rather nice and constant pillar of strength. She was born eight months after my mum. So their lives were lived in virtual parallel. She simply was. And she is, despite the amazing misfortunes that have beset her sometimes wayward family. She has exhibited a stoicism and resilience in the face of decades of very challenging human history. She has seen so many Prime Ministers come and go. And her nation has changed in its fabric and imperial influence through these busy years.
My mum died on the same day as Princess Diana, and on what would have been my parents' 40th wedding anniversary. My emotional ties with the royal family are peculiar on account of this. A young and deeply painful life ended, and people mourned in a way that Britain will no doubt not see again. But Elizabeth remains on the throne. And should she be as strong as her mother, we may find that she will outlive some of us. How steadfast that institution.
Is there some hidden message here? I could speak of the unchanging love of God as an ultimate bulwark and protection from the ravages of change. Greater than the notion of resilience of a human throne is the faithfulness of a heavenly lover, a God portrayed as immutable and steadfast, One who never lets us go.
In the words of the Psalmist - "Your love reaches to the heavens, and your faithfulness to the clouds."
I could also speak of the One whose love for us paid a price for our adoption into the family of the Faithful One. The writer to the Hebrews puts it thus:
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God."
It is to the one who is seated at the right hand of the throne of God that we turn for our ultimate assurance and sense of continuity - Jesus the same yesterday, today and forever.
Be loved, beloved, and filled with His life forever.
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