Robin Palmer | 40 Hour Famine
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Saturday, 15 May 2010
Friday, 9 April 2010
Leaders and Followers
An article from an Educational Leadership magazine in recent months made me think seriously about our styles of leadership. The question raised was very simple – why do people follow you? And of course, why would they? There is an old maxim that appears in leadership journals occasionally: if you’re out there leading and nobody is following, then you’re really just out for a walk. Alone.
The seasons of Lent and Easter have made me reconsider the followers of Jesus and the tough decisions they had to make. It must have been exciting when Jesus was welcomed into town like a hero. It was probably amazing when large crowds gathered to hear him. There must have been unnerving moments when he was arrested – when the option of violence against the Roman authorities was tested. And then of course there were huge disappointments – Judas the betrayer possibly trying to force Jesus’ hand, and Peter the broken leader who denied knowing his leader three times. And most fascinating of all – the young John Mark who escaped the clutches of the arresting authorities by wriggling out of his clothes. They were heady times.
During the term in various classroom conversations we have examined a range of situations where people have made bad decisions - often mislead by bad leaders, or threatened or bullied by the kind of people you wouldn’t vote into power. It is a sobering thought that many of us, placed in similar tough circumstances, might also have found it difficult to do the right thing. We make wrong decisions even in peacetime, never mind situations challenged by war or oppression.
The story of Easter – the Christian tradition in its customary form - is about the apparent failure of a good man and beloved leader – who seems to allow himself to be cruelly tortured and executed without offering any real defence. The God-person Jesus bears intolerable pain and suffering, a punishment undeserved and probably meted out by corrupt and selfish religious and secular leaders.
The excitement of Easter – in this same Christian tradition – surpasses the thrills of Easter egg hunts and mandatory holidays. The gloom and darkness of a failed leadership campaign, and a gruesome execution, is eclipsed by a forty day period of resurrection encounters – where followers of Jesus, up to five hundred at one time – find that he is alive again.
Easter’s themes of new life, spring (in the northern hemisphere), and fresh beginnings are hopeful and invigorating glimpses of a better world, and the victory of love over hatred, and forgiveness over resentment and bitterness.
The life and death of Jesus are inspirational. Easter is a celebration of that life and death. The resurrection brings new energy to discouraged people at every level. The same power (literally “spirit”) that raises Jesus from the dead is offered to us – transforming our frail physical and emotional lives with a new vitality and energy, an enlivening and joy-filling encounter.
We often find ourselves weary and stretched as school terms come to an end. And in our personal lives we face all manner of challenges both practically and spiritually. The hope of Easter is once again our mainstay. We have the promise that Jesus is still with us through his ever-present Holy Spirit – to strengthen us and give us peace.
May you be blessed at this Easter time with all that you need to inspire and guide you, and may you be a great leader in your field, both at home and at work or play – with followers who are inspired by you and from whom you also learn and grow.
(Written for the School Magazine before Easter)
The seasons of Lent and Easter have made me reconsider the followers of Jesus and the tough decisions they had to make. It must have been exciting when Jesus was welcomed into town like a hero. It was probably amazing when large crowds gathered to hear him. There must have been unnerving moments when he was arrested – when the option of violence against the Roman authorities was tested. And then of course there were huge disappointments – Judas the betrayer possibly trying to force Jesus’ hand, and Peter the broken leader who denied knowing his leader three times. And most fascinating of all – the young John Mark who escaped the clutches of the arresting authorities by wriggling out of his clothes. They were heady times.
During the term in various classroom conversations we have examined a range of situations where people have made bad decisions - often mislead by bad leaders, or threatened or bullied by the kind of people you wouldn’t vote into power. It is a sobering thought that many of us, placed in similar tough circumstances, might also have found it difficult to do the right thing. We make wrong decisions even in peacetime, never mind situations challenged by war or oppression.
The story of Easter – the Christian tradition in its customary form - is about the apparent failure of a good man and beloved leader – who seems to allow himself to be cruelly tortured and executed without offering any real defence. The God-person Jesus bears intolerable pain and suffering, a punishment undeserved and probably meted out by corrupt and selfish religious and secular leaders.
The excitement of Easter – in this same Christian tradition – surpasses the thrills of Easter egg hunts and mandatory holidays. The gloom and darkness of a failed leadership campaign, and a gruesome execution, is eclipsed by a forty day period of resurrection encounters – where followers of Jesus, up to five hundred at one time – find that he is alive again.
Easter’s themes of new life, spring (in the northern hemisphere), and fresh beginnings are hopeful and invigorating glimpses of a better world, and the victory of love over hatred, and forgiveness over resentment and bitterness.
The life and death of Jesus are inspirational. Easter is a celebration of that life and death. The resurrection brings new energy to discouraged people at every level. The same power (literally “spirit”) that raises Jesus from the dead is offered to us – transforming our frail physical and emotional lives with a new vitality and energy, an enlivening and joy-filling encounter.
We often find ourselves weary and stretched as school terms come to an end. And in our personal lives we face all manner of challenges both practically and spiritually. The hope of Easter is once again our mainstay. We have the promise that Jesus is still with us through his ever-present Holy Spirit – to strengthen us and give us peace.
May you be blessed at this Easter time with all that you need to inspire and guide you, and may you be a great leader in your field, both at home and at work or play – with followers who are inspired by you and from whom you also learn and grow.
(Written for the School Magazine before Easter)
Post Easter
Winter is on its way. The pleasant autumn sun today is deceptive, as the cold truth of a Wellington winter is very sobering. There have been these mean little southerly winds popping out of the meteorological woodwork.
We are in the middle of the so-called Easter break. The Easter weekend began with a typical holiday collapse of resistance to the local bugs, and necessitated a visit to the Doctor and week's supply of pills. Losing one's voice is not good for a preacher. The voice died after the Easter sunday message.
New Zealand life continues in its nondescript way. Occasional excitement is noted when particular rugby games are on. Cricket doesn't do the same, and it is unlikely that too many people can afford to go to South Africa for the Football world cup - the prices in NZD are insane. The All Whites will have to be content with an audience on line cheerfully yelling for them.
As a South African living "abroad" the current reports on the state of affairs in the old country are disturbing. I have vivid memories of our two years (and a bit) in Rustenburg, the heart of Afrikaner country. Standing in the queue to use a public phone on the corner I was amazed to see a white male attack a black man who was sitting on the pavement. I have no idea why. But it made sense that Eugene Terblanche was prepared to stand for the Rustenburg constituency in the National elections. There were plenty of enthusiasts. "ET go home" was on a poster that appeared on the streets. It seemed that there were plenty of white right wing parties there anyway who didn't want the man in black on his large horse galloping through the town.
ET is home now I suppose. One can only hope that there is no outbreak of violence. The Farmers Unions seem to be mobilising in their own way. The violence, whichever way you look at it and whatever side you take, is horrible and endless.
We have begun our 5th year here officially. It seems like we have been here forever. The connections to South Africa are still very strong, and the Palmer children have some mixed feelings about living here to say the least. In the meantime we continue to do what we do as faithfully as we can. I was reminded by an old friend by email this week that the battle is not ours, and that faithfulness to the task we know is the most important thing.
This week we will be at Foxton Beach. Not being the largest place on the coast, few will know much about it. The "Bach" - the local word for a holiday cottage - has been kindly loaned to us by a colleague Presbyterian minister. A good opportunity to recuperate and prepare for the new term. School begins on the 19th with a College chapel service - one must be prepared for these things.
The Easter message of resurrection and hope has to be foundational in our lives - may you be inspired to see things from that point of view.
As always, yours truly
Robin
We are in the middle of the so-called Easter break. The Easter weekend began with a typical holiday collapse of resistance to the local bugs, and necessitated a visit to the Doctor and week's supply of pills. Losing one's voice is not good for a preacher. The voice died after the Easter sunday message.
New Zealand life continues in its nondescript way. Occasional excitement is noted when particular rugby games are on. Cricket doesn't do the same, and it is unlikely that too many people can afford to go to South Africa for the Football world cup - the prices in NZD are insane. The All Whites will have to be content with an audience on line cheerfully yelling for them.
As a South African living "abroad" the current reports on the state of affairs in the old country are disturbing. I have vivid memories of our two years (and a bit) in Rustenburg, the heart of Afrikaner country. Standing in the queue to use a public phone on the corner I was amazed to see a white male attack a black man who was sitting on the pavement. I have no idea why. But it made sense that Eugene Terblanche was prepared to stand for the Rustenburg constituency in the National elections. There were plenty of enthusiasts. "ET go home" was on a poster that appeared on the streets. It seemed that there were plenty of white right wing parties there anyway who didn't want the man in black on his large horse galloping through the town.
ET is home now I suppose. One can only hope that there is no outbreak of violence. The Farmers Unions seem to be mobilising in their own way. The violence, whichever way you look at it and whatever side you take, is horrible and endless.
We have begun our 5th year here officially. It seems like we have been here forever. The connections to South Africa are still very strong, and the Palmer children have some mixed feelings about living here to say the least. In the meantime we continue to do what we do as faithfully as we can. I was reminded by an old friend by email this week that the battle is not ours, and that faithfulness to the task we know is the most important thing.
This week we will be at Foxton Beach. Not being the largest place on the coast, few will know much about it. The "Bach" - the local word for a holiday cottage - has been kindly loaned to us by a colleague Presbyterian minister. A good opportunity to recuperate and prepare for the new term. School begins on the 19th with a College chapel service - one must be prepared for these things.
The Easter message of resurrection and hope has to be foundational in our lives - may you be inspired to see things from that point of view.
As always, yours truly
Robin
Wednesday, 6 January 2010
New Year – New Decade
School holidays are supposed to be fun. The kiwi response is the laconic “yeah right”, an economical statement which incorporates a bit of cynicism and a realism that characterises the New Zealand way. The weather in Wellington has been shocking. Windy and miserable in the extreme, the capital city has been virtually abandoned through the high season, and rightly so. Now that work has started again in the commercial world, the roads are not that deserted as they were. My own children spent the New Year in various locations. I guess we are getting ourselves ready to some extent for the empty nest phase. There is some ambivalence in this position of course. So much of what we are and what we have done has focussed on our offspring.
I am due to begin my fifth year at the College where I work in April. A wise man I know said recently that there is probably only room for one Chaplaincy in a ministry. The word “ministry” here only makes sense for those who are ministers – pastors in the biblical sense. Most of my work has been spent in church communities – “congregations” is what we used to call them. Here the Presbyterians use the word “parish” which is a dated and outmoded word really, as the concept of parish borders has long died (together with Mr Plod and the local Vicar visiting people in a specific area on a bicycle). The four years of full time school work have been very different, driven by bells and programmes in the extreme, and the desire to please the paying people, the parents of a private school who expect results. Church work is different – the customers are volunteers - and how does one keep volunteers focussed? There are no exams, no career plans at stake, no obsession with results and image. In the local church one can only hope that vision, passion, and enthusiasm will drive people along.
The truth is that the local churches in the traditional churches in New Zealand – certainly in the Presbyterian family – seem to be fading. A brief look at the statistics recently published show many smaller congregations fading away. The most glaring absence – children. And in many cases people under 60! The kiwi way, fiercely independent, has also become seriously secular. Whatever we say about post-modern manifestations of worship, with their DIY manifestations and new definitions of traditional terms (which may in fact manifest post-Christian tendencies but at least are an attempt to be more relevant), people are not that committed to institutions, and have not been for some decades. In Presbyterian terms, people resent a top-heavy system and the paying of any kinds of fees into a centralised black hole. The denomination in which I serve is trying to refocus its mission, and restructure its regional bodies in order to face the future. The changes are not being well received as people are naturally resistant to change where no benefit is offered. Consumers….
The truth is that without a vision for reaching others with the good news, the Church will stagnate and die away. It remains one of the few, or only, organisations that exists for its “not-yet” members. And here, at the beginning of the New Year, I find myself reflecting on choices and options for my future. Should I carry on working in a place where I don’t really fit (the mandatory or obligatory and “token” Presbyterian) – or should I more into “parish” ministry again? The local church, where it works, is the most wonderful place of hope and renewal. Where it doesn’t work, the local church can be a very dreary and sad place, where people hold on too tight to what they have, not realising that the boat is in fact sinking, or the tide is rising (if they prefer a landlubber’s metaphor).
My hope in the local church has been revitalised by our membership of a local church that does work. It’s not a perfect church – there is none. But it is a place where difference is accommodated – while Jesus remains at the centre. “All Saints” is a good place to be. There is a sense of God’s presence – and expectation, and a meeting with the Divine. That openness to renewal and to the power of the Holy Spirit is key to this life. That’s what I miss in chapel at school. There are moments few and far between where there is that sense of Presence.
“Presence” has to be redefined in the context of the school where I work. My own presence, and that of other Christians, has to remind people of a different way of seeing the world. This presence can be an isolating experience, especially where one is the sole prophetic voice at times. That ministry of “presence” of course is not the pre-requisite of paid ministers. It is the ministry of the “laity” (an unfortunate term implying lack of knowledge) – the ministry of every Christian.
The new decade is a time of grace – in a sense each day is a day of grace in which we are allowed to start again. New beginnings are great – we can offload the rubbish we have collected along the way, and ask God to help us re-frame the story of our lives. I have enjoyed a brief time of Epiphany – the celebration of the light of Christ shining into the hearts of the gentiles (which incorporates most of us - unless of course you are Jewish). May we be wise to seek the child Jesus – who confounded the powerful by surrender of all that he was to become one of us.
I will wait for the Lord. Wait on the Lord if you like, but I prefer the former as it is the Lord who acts. At best we respond to His working in our lives, in prayer and in praise; in worship – in the full sense of service.
May the new decade be a new beginning of some sorts for you – perhaps the best beginning would be the risk of an invitation to God to enter your world again – to shine new light on your circumstances, your thoughts, your hopes and your dreams.
Come, Lord Jesus.
I am due to begin my fifth year at the College where I work in April. A wise man I know said recently that there is probably only room for one Chaplaincy in a ministry. The word “ministry” here only makes sense for those who are ministers – pastors in the biblical sense. Most of my work has been spent in church communities – “congregations” is what we used to call them. Here the Presbyterians use the word “parish” which is a dated and outmoded word really, as the concept of parish borders has long died (together with Mr Plod and the local Vicar visiting people in a specific area on a bicycle). The four years of full time school work have been very different, driven by bells and programmes in the extreme, and the desire to please the paying people, the parents of a private school who expect results. Church work is different – the customers are volunteers - and how does one keep volunteers focussed? There are no exams, no career plans at stake, no obsession with results and image. In the local church one can only hope that vision, passion, and enthusiasm will drive people along.
The truth is that the local churches in the traditional churches in New Zealand – certainly in the Presbyterian family – seem to be fading. A brief look at the statistics recently published show many smaller congregations fading away. The most glaring absence – children. And in many cases people under 60! The kiwi way, fiercely independent, has also become seriously secular. Whatever we say about post-modern manifestations of worship, with their DIY manifestations and new definitions of traditional terms (which may in fact manifest post-Christian tendencies but at least are an attempt to be more relevant), people are not that committed to institutions, and have not been for some decades. In Presbyterian terms, people resent a top-heavy system and the paying of any kinds of fees into a centralised black hole. The denomination in which I serve is trying to refocus its mission, and restructure its regional bodies in order to face the future. The changes are not being well received as people are naturally resistant to change where no benefit is offered. Consumers….
The truth is that without a vision for reaching others with the good news, the Church will stagnate and die away. It remains one of the few, or only, organisations that exists for its “not-yet” members. And here, at the beginning of the New Year, I find myself reflecting on choices and options for my future. Should I carry on working in a place where I don’t really fit (the mandatory or obligatory and “token” Presbyterian) – or should I more into “parish” ministry again? The local church, where it works, is the most wonderful place of hope and renewal. Where it doesn’t work, the local church can be a very dreary and sad place, where people hold on too tight to what they have, not realising that the boat is in fact sinking, or the tide is rising (if they prefer a landlubber’s metaphor).
My hope in the local church has been revitalised by our membership of a local church that does work. It’s not a perfect church – there is none. But it is a place where difference is accommodated – while Jesus remains at the centre. “All Saints” is a good place to be. There is a sense of God’s presence – and expectation, and a meeting with the Divine. That openness to renewal and to the power of the Holy Spirit is key to this life. That’s what I miss in chapel at school. There are moments few and far between where there is that sense of Presence.
“Presence” has to be redefined in the context of the school where I work. My own presence, and that of other Christians, has to remind people of a different way of seeing the world. This presence can be an isolating experience, especially where one is the sole prophetic voice at times. That ministry of “presence” of course is not the pre-requisite of paid ministers. It is the ministry of the “laity” (an unfortunate term implying lack of knowledge) – the ministry of every Christian.
The new decade is a time of grace – in a sense each day is a day of grace in which we are allowed to start again. New beginnings are great – we can offload the rubbish we have collected along the way, and ask God to help us re-frame the story of our lives. I have enjoyed a brief time of Epiphany – the celebration of the light of Christ shining into the hearts of the gentiles (which incorporates most of us - unless of course you are Jewish). May we be wise to seek the child Jesus – who confounded the powerful by surrender of all that he was to become one of us.
I will wait for the Lord. Wait on the Lord if you like, but I prefer the former as it is the Lord who acts. At best we respond to His working in our lives, in prayer and in praise; in worship – in the full sense of service.
May the new decade be a new beginning of some sorts for you – perhaps the best beginning would be the risk of an invitation to God to enter your world again – to shine new light on your circumstances, your thoughts, your hopes and your dreams.
Come, Lord Jesus.
Monday, 21 December 2009
Christmas in New Zealand
It's a Southern Hemisphere thing, Christmas in New Zealand. Snow is not entirely impossible of course. On 27 December 1897 there was some snow low on the hills near Masterton, which is really part of greater Wellington. And on 13 December in 1872 a Mrs Snow sailed from Wellington to Napier on the St Kilda, a 91 ton vessel. I guess that the probability of a white Christmas is somewhat remote. We look at our European and American cousins and breath a sigh of relief. The non-occurence of snow here is re-enforced by the fact that a local choir Nota Bene produced an evening of entertainment called "A Snow-free Christmas" about which a local critic quipped "nothing new there".
So we are gearing up towards a fairly Yuley Christmas - without the Yule log but with the pleasure of a hot meal that does not kill you from heat fatigue in the kitchen while cooking. In Africa an annual collapse of just a nature led us to go for cold gammon and salads for some years while melting like snow in the hot humid east coast climate. At least here it is cool enough to eat hot!
In short we are fairly well prepared. Armed with various delicacies and goodies waiting for their demise (waiting in the fridge or freezer) we wait. And what is this waiting for? Anticipation of the secrets hidden under Christmas wrapping? Children wait for this. We are still children in part - it is actually quite nice ripping open the presents even when you know what they are and probably wrapped them yourself.
Waiting - for those special services at church - the candles and traditional warm songs and words - the readings that take you back to your youth and childhood - the songs of angels and the persistence of foreign travellers following a star.
Waiting - for a chance to be with family and friends again - knowing that some family you may never see again anyway. Yay for facebook - at least we see one another and share a cyber-Christmas.
Advent - the Christian season we are enjoying - is about anticipation and expectation - looking to God to breakthrough again into a troubled world. A whole lot of preachers will produce profound new angles on this (yes angles not angels). Some will look for new stories to re-tell the Christmas thing in a far too secular fashion. How sad that we can reduce the angels' words to some form of contemporary nursery rhyme or folk tale.
The angels are key to all of this. They are literally messengers. They bring eu-angelion - ευαγγελιον - good message, a good announcement.
So my Christmas wish to you is simple. There is good news. We need to be good news - just as Christ is God incarnate - literally God in-flesh, we need to be in Christ and Christ in us - living examples of Jesus who encapsulates the good news. It's not just his birth that was good news to humble shepherds (who by the way told people very quickly what had happened!!). His life is good news - a second Adam, a real prototype for the rest of us not to be cloned into his image, but transformed into his likeness! (But we all, with our face having been unveiled, having beheld the glory of the Lord as in a mirror, are being changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Lord Spirit. 2 Corinthians 3:18)
Has this good news grabbed your heart and captured your imagination? At school we have a chapel-ianity, where I fear too many miss the point. A Friday going-through-the-motions. If only they would hear -and yes they may hear still. This good news is drastic, dramatic, and requiring daring response. Listen to the words of an aging prophet who saw the baby Jesus: "And Simeon blessed them and said to Mary His mother, Behold, this One is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel, and for a sign spoken against." (Luke 2:34)
The gospel life was the life He lived. The gospel death was the death that he died, a death in which he reached out to absorb all death and danger, and dread which drives men and women to hide away from life's challenges in depression and desperation - or to end their own lives in horrible ways. His gospel death absorbed the pain of suffering and sickness, and the septic influence of selfishness and sin. His gospel resurrection vindicated God's "yes" to life and Jesus' faith expressed in self-emptying and surrender to the grave.
The gospel Jesus brings hope - and greater expectation of a new future. A good message.
For goodness sake, go somewhere this Christmas where you will hear this gospel - a fresh reminder of the light of the world shining in our darknesses.
A very blessed Christmas - may the good news re-enliven your heart and re-capture your imagination. Wait on this God - for He is still near. God with us.
our love in Jesus,
Robin
So we are gearing up towards a fairly Yuley Christmas - without the Yule log but with the pleasure of a hot meal that does not kill you from heat fatigue in the kitchen while cooking. In Africa an annual collapse of just a nature led us to go for cold gammon and salads for some years while melting like snow in the hot humid east coast climate. At least here it is cool enough to eat hot!
In short we are fairly well prepared. Armed with various delicacies and goodies waiting for their demise (waiting in the fridge or freezer) we wait. And what is this waiting for? Anticipation of the secrets hidden under Christmas wrapping? Children wait for this. We are still children in part - it is actually quite nice ripping open the presents even when you know what they are and probably wrapped them yourself.
Waiting - for those special services at church - the candles and traditional warm songs and words - the readings that take you back to your youth and childhood - the songs of angels and the persistence of foreign travellers following a star.
Waiting - for a chance to be with family and friends again - knowing that some family you may never see again anyway. Yay for facebook - at least we see one another and share a cyber-Christmas.
Advent - the Christian season we are enjoying - is about anticipation and expectation - looking to God to breakthrough again into a troubled world. A whole lot of preachers will produce profound new angles on this (yes angles not angels). Some will look for new stories to re-tell the Christmas thing in a far too secular fashion. How sad that we can reduce the angels' words to some form of contemporary nursery rhyme or folk tale.
The angels are key to all of this. They are literally messengers. They bring eu-angelion - ευαγγελιον - good message, a good announcement.
So my Christmas wish to you is simple. There is good news. We need to be good news - just as Christ is God incarnate - literally God in-flesh, we need to be in Christ and Christ in us - living examples of Jesus who encapsulates the good news. It's not just his birth that was good news to humble shepherds (who by the way told people very quickly what had happened!!). His life is good news - a second Adam, a real prototype for the rest of us not to be cloned into his image, but transformed into his likeness! (But we all, with our face having been unveiled, having beheld the glory of the Lord as in a mirror, are being changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Lord Spirit. 2 Corinthians 3:18)
Has this good news grabbed your heart and captured your imagination? At school we have a chapel-ianity, where I fear too many miss the point. A Friday going-through-the-motions. If only they would hear -and yes they may hear still. This good news is drastic, dramatic, and requiring daring response. Listen to the words of an aging prophet who saw the baby Jesus: "And Simeon blessed them and said to Mary His mother, Behold, this One is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel, and for a sign spoken against." (Luke 2:34)
The gospel life was the life He lived. The gospel death was the death that he died, a death in which he reached out to absorb all death and danger, and dread which drives men and women to hide away from life's challenges in depression and desperation - or to end their own lives in horrible ways. His gospel death absorbed the pain of suffering and sickness, and the septic influence of selfishness and sin. His gospel resurrection vindicated God's "yes" to life and Jesus' faith expressed in self-emptying and surrender to the grave.
The gospel Jesus brings hope - and greater expectation of a new future. A good message.
For goodness sake, go somewhere this Christmas where you will hear this gospel - a fresh reminder of the light of the world shining in our darknesses.
A very blessed Christmas - may the good news re-enliven your heart and re-capture your imagination. Wait on this God - for He is still near. God with us.
our love in Jesus,
Robin
Sunday, 4 October 2009
A view from the ends of the earth
Moving to New Zealand has got to be one of the craziest things we ever did. Emigration was never really our intention or desire. I'm not sure how it really started. So many people plan this for years - researching options and possibilities, and counting the cost in every possible way. I used to joke about it - not in a disparaging way. People from our home country have all kinds of reasons for moving on. Many suffered various forms of trauma. Some ran from South Africa anticipating the inevitable changes that were needed and right as democracy eventually arrived. I joked about the idea of New Zealand because I was a shepherd - a pastor, and would quip that there were too many sheep on these islands. Then it all happened and we were on our way. Looking back it all seems surreal now.
We were enticed by family in one sense. They seemed to be drifting over towards this part of the world for their own reasons. Some have come here and gone back. They didn't get the permanent residence required. Others have thrived and been drawn into the kiwi way – the life of peace and the safe suburban way.
The kiwi way. I’m still not sure what that really is. It is inspired by All Black success – and when the national team fails people shudder and mention quietly that domestic violence increases after an All Black rugby loss. It has a peculiar passive-aggressive flavour. A nation which stands for egalitarianism and fair play, with great consumer rights and a pleasant socialist flavour that keeps one paid when unemployment persists (with some requirements attached of course like actually looking for work and developing skills) – remains a little tentative about its raison d'être. It is a dominion – with a Governor General, and the Queen at the helm, and few blatant republicans. And curiously we were able to vote in a new government not long ago – a National government. Imagine us voting NP!
In March we will celebrate four years on these islands. We haven’t captured the essence of the kiwi way. It is a slippery customer. Something reserved like the English – with an added colonial zest and DIY ingenuity. I grasp something of the young peoples’ essence, working with them. They’re much like the South African kids I worked with in Port Shepstone – energetic, intelligent, and great fun. They have such a great passion for the future, and laugh a lot in the present about how silly adults can be.
The fault lines below Wellington were never spoken of when we planned this move in 2005. Like the kiwi way they are invisible and a bit unpredictable. In fact there was a sign on one of the main roads indicating that the fault line was right there – until last year. It seems they took the sign down because they aren’t sure where the fault is any more.
The jolting of earthquakes is terrifying. The last one that really shocked us was just 25km south of Wellington. It sounded like a freight train hitting the house at 2 in the morning. This last week earthquakes have caused devastation across a wide range or communities with untold death and destruction. Our Samoan neighbours are mourning as are New Zealand families whose dear ones went away on holiday and have to be brought back for burial.
The picture of our Prime Minister standing in mourning with local folk in Samoa is a deeply warm one and reveals another facet of this intriguing people. There is, despite the frozen English legacy, a warmth and compassion and a genuine kindness and generosity when it comes to these kinds of disasters. There are wonderful New Zealanders who give time and money to make a difference in the lives of others. My hope is that the boys I work with will take up the challenge to do a different OE year – on another continent and for different reasons from the usual fun and games – to continue the amazing work of peacemaking and kindness that is a rich manifestation of the kiwi way.
I am happy to celebrate the craziness of our move to these wobbly islands. The world is rich and diverse, and despite the trauma of our journey over these nearly four years, I have been greatly enriched along the way.
As a final coment - like the fault lines, all the nations across the planet have deeper aspects of their history and ethos. One can never really know the whole story, and one can all too easily make assumptions on the basis of what you see. Tomorrow we will continue to walk around this capital city, trusting that things will not fall down about us. You just never know, of course.
We were enticed by family in one sense. They seemed to be drifting over towards this part of the world for their own reasons. Some have come here and gone back. They didn't get the permanent residence required. Others have thrived and been drawn into the kiwi way – the life of peace and the safe suburban way.
The kiwi way. I’m still not sure what that really is. It is inspired by All Black success – and when the national team fails people shudder and mention quietly that domestic violence increases after an All Black rugby loss. It has a peculiar passive-aggressive flavour. A nation which stands for egalitarianism and fair play, with great consumer rights and a pleasant socialist flavour that keeps one paid when unemployment persists (with some requirements attached of course like actually looking for work and developing skills) – remains a little tentative about its raison d'être. It is a dominion – with a Governor General, and the Queen at the helm, and few blatant republicans. And curiously we were able to vote in a new government not long ago – a National government. Imagine us voting NP!
In March we will celebrate four years on these islands. We haven’t captured the essence of the kiwi way. It is a slippery customer. Something reserved like the English – with an added colonial zest and DIY ingenuity. I grasp something of the young peoples’ essence, working with them. They’re much like the South African kids I worked with in Port Shepstone – energetic, intelligent, and great fun. They have such a great passion for the future, and laugh a lot in the present about how silly adults can be.
The fault lines below Wellington were never spoken of when we planned this move in 2005. Like the kiwi way they are invisible and a bit unpredictable. In fact there was a sign on one of the main roads indicating that the fault line was right there – until last year. It seems they took the sign down because they aren’t sure where the fault is any more.
The jolting of earthquakes is terrifying. The last one that really shocked us was just 25km south of Wellington. It sounded like a freight train hitting the house at 2 in the morning. This last week earthquakes have caused devastation across a wide range or communities with untold death and destruction. Our Samoan neighbours are mourning as are New Zealand families whose dear ones went away on holiday and have to be brought back for burial.
The picture of our Prime Minister standing in mourning with local folk in Samoa is a deeply warm one and reveals another facet of this intriguing people. There is, despite the frozen English legacy, a warmth and compassion and a genuine kindness and generosity when it comes to these kinds of disasters. There are wonderful New Zealanders who give time and money to make a difference in the lives of others. My hope is that the boys I work with will take up the challenge to do a different OE year – on another continent and for different reasons from the usual fun and games – to continue the amazing work of peacemaking and kindness that is a rich manifestation of the kiwi way.
I am happy to celebrate the craziness of our move to these wobbly islands. The world is rich and diverse, and despite the trauma of our journey over these nearly four years, I have been greatly enriched along the way.
As a final coment - like the fault lines, all the nations across the planet have deeper aspects of their history and ethos. One can never really know the whole story, and one can all too easily make assumptions on the basis of what you see. Tomorrow we will continue to walk around this capital city, trusting that things will not fall down about us. You just never know, of course.
Saturday, 5 September 2009
Father's Day
Father's day in my home country was always in June - usually quite close to my dad's birthday. It provided a useful and economical day for joint gifts - much like my birthday in December ("we got you this real bargain, and it's a JOINT present for your birthday and Christmas! Aren't you LUCKY!").
Here we are enjoying Father's day in September. A bit odd in one way, but hey it's Spring. New life abounds on these islands in Spring - and soon we will have daylight saving which will give us more time after work to enjoy the sun!
The family had lunch together for Father's day. It was nice to be together (we do all live under the same roof of course but at times are lax about eating at the table at the same time as each other). Lot's of laughter and joking which was really nice, and chocolate brownies which helped us recover from the chicken recipe's large dose of chillies.
The best thing this morning was the worship and ministry time at church - the focus was on healing and there was time for healing ministry and people available at different places in the church to pray for others. It is neat, as they say here (and "sweet") that our Heavenly father knows our needs in great detail. The lady who prayed for me was a South African (ubiquitous as we are) and she had a Psalm for me which was a kind of take-away at the end. The whole of Psalm 40 is powerful. The first verses reminded me of my sons learning scripture at Liberty Christian college in Witbank - this memory verse was one we all had sorted:
Psa 40: 1 I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry.
Psa 40:2 He drew me up from the desolate pit, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.
Psa 40:3 He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the LORD.
There have been many losses since coming to these islands. I know in my heart of hearts that God will restore what we need in our deepest places of grief and separation. The losses are not primarily of identity, but at a deeper level through trauma and pain. There will be a new song in our mouths. That process has begun already. The Psalm goes on to say:
Psa 40:9 I have told the glad news of deliverance in the great congregation; see, I have not restrained my lips, as you know, O LORD.
Psa 40:10 I have not hidden your saving help within my heart, I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation; I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness from the great congregation.
We don't have a great congregation, but certainly have a great assembly at which to proclaim the faithfulness of the Lord! And we do and will continue to.
We continue to trust the Lord for his guidance and provision as a family! With the Psalmist we continue to say - You are my help and my deliverer; do not delay, O my God.
Here we are enjoying Father's day in September. A bit odd in one way, but hey it's Spring. New life abounds on these islands in Spring - and soon we will have daylight saving which will give us more time after work to enjoy the sun!
The family had lunch together for Father's day. It was nice to be together (we do all live under the same roof of course but at times are lax about eating at the table at the same time as each other). Lot's of laughter and joking which was really nice, and chocolate brownies which helped us recover from the chicken recipe's large dose of chillies.
The best thing this morning was the worship and ministry time at church - the focus was on healing and there was time for healing ministry and people available at different places in the church to pray for others. It is neat, as they say here (and "sweet") that our Heavenly father knows our needs in great detail. The lady who prayed for me was a South African (ubiquitous as we are) and she had a Psalm for me which was a kind of take-away at the end. The whole of Psalm 40 is powerful. The first verses reminded me of my sons learning scripture at Liberty Christian college in Witbank - this memory verse was one we all had sorted:
Psa 40: 1 I waited patiently for the LORD; he inclined to me and heard my cry.
Psa 40:2 He drew me up from the desolate pit, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.
Psa 40:3 He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the LORD.
There have been many losses since coming to these islands. I know in my heart of hearts that God will restore what we need in our deepest places of grief and separation. The losses are not primarily of identity, but at a deeper level through trauma and pain. There will be a new song in our mouths. That process has begun already. The Psalm goes on to say:
Psa 40:9 I have told the glad news of deliverance in the great congregation; see, I have not restrained my lips, as you know, O LORD.
Psa 40:10 I have not hidden your saving help within my heart, I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation; I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness from the great congregation.
We don't have a great congregation, but certainly have a great assembly at which to proclaim the faithfulness of the Lord! And we do and will continue to.
We continue to trust the Lord for his guidance and provision as a family! With the Psalmist we continue to say - You are my help and my deliverer; do not delay, O my God.
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