"Ammu loved her children (of course), but their wide-eyed vulnerability, and their willingness to love people who didn't really love them, exasperated her and sometimes made her want to hurt them- just as an education, a protection." - The God of Small Things, by Arundhati Roy.
I profess this very often I feel, but I adore childlike qualities of trust and faith. I love that they're unhindered by experience, disappointment and conflicting messages coming in from the world around them. Often I've been warned by older people, those that have experienced much more than me in many ways, that life isn't as beautiful as I want it to be. That my standards need to lower, that I need to expect difficulty and hurt. That I need to be less like a child, that I need to be more like an adult in my expectations. It distresses me that wisdom and cynicism are so interchangeable in some people's minds.
When I was a teenager (a proper teenager), I decided that I'd fight against the tide of dysfunction and depression around me. I was determined that no matter what I heard, saw, experienced, I would remain a Romantic (capital 'R') and believe in something better. After a short while and some dangerous events involving characters more sinister than I originally gave them credit for, I realised that believing in something better had to be mixed with a certain streetsense. To be naiive to the darker things of the world was not the aim, nor was it to be ignorant to people's suffering or to put myself in danger when danger could be avoided.
I was ridiculously distressed when I realised a couple of weeks back that I had, despite my vows, become cynical and resigned. I let too much of the bad in the world through my eyes and it became my lens. Things happened which should have disappointed me, but instead left me with an apathetic satisfaction. It was expected. No hopes were raised, no defences lowered. This is in one sense a problem of pride- I cheated the system, I didn't get hurt, I'd seen enough and experienced enough not to feel it again. This was much worse in my eyes than being hurt and disappointed. At least with disappointment, it comes from hope. Hope of something better. Not always fulfilled, but always fulfilling.
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.” - C S Lewis.
There is no safe investment. But my word, I'm casting off cynicism, I'm putting on childish hope again. I would rather be disappointed by the world a thousand times than forsake the hope I have. Other wise, what's the point?
I need to look at the world, people, events, with a different standard in mind. I need to hope for that standard. I need to be disappointed daily. I need that to drive my actions.
There's more to this, and much more coherency I can't reach right now.
Monday, 20 September 2010
Saturday, 4 September 2010
Sunday, 29 August 2010
Motel.
I haven't even mentioned anything about Mozambique yet. Admittedly, I've been avoiding technology as far as possible since returning- two hours of chasing up student finance and university timetables has reminded me why. I could spend my life behind a screen trying to keep my head above a growing pile of to-dos. But I love people quite a bit more. This is something Moz taught me. People are the focus. Love is the key.
G-d, save us from our good intentions.
What you meant to be organic we’ve refined into an engine.
We call it progress, but we forget that even water is poison if we breathe it.
Just how much can we love when we’re spread so thin... spread so thin?
Just how much can we love when we’re spread so thin?
Where are the naked prophets? Where are their harlot wives?
How can the Spirit move when His body parts don’t coincide?
These times are complicated so we compartmentalize,
there are few burdens shared just seldom intersecting lives...
Satan came and offered up the kingdom whole,
Messiah refused, then took it man by man.
Pharisees thought he would topple the empires,
but He changed the world by caring for men, not the systems they create.
Temples for the temples? Systems for the Spirit?
We became the temples, so let’s build each other.
Could we hear the Spirit if we just lived simpler?
Everybody go and grab your neighbors! Let’s all sink our roots and see a harvest!
Nobody alive has all the answers, but Abba bears the load when love is hard!
What to write about! I'm not going to give a blow by blow account. If you want stories or details, by all means ask me because God showed up big time and I could talk for hours of the power and love of His that we were privy to in just 2 weeks in East Africa. My word. What I will say is that my God heals. My God speaks. My God raises the dead. My God loves.
The team I went out with were indescribably wonderful, and it was a privilege, I thought especially for me, to be with them. Each had such different skills and experiences, but we all love Jesus and want to see more of Him, and that was enough to make it work. I can't put into words how grateful I am for the opportunity.
When we were on the plane home, a man in front of us turned and said, "You have the happy bouncy look of people returning from a mission trip". This excited me, that a stranger could glean from our tired exteriors that we'd been in the presence and movement of God. I hoped that we'd glow in the UK, that people would ask us why, that we'd tell them that like Moses on Sinai, we'd been hanging with God and His glory was stuck to us, changing us. When I eventually got back to Nottingham, my mum picked me up. We had coffee, and she asked what we'd been doing. I did the whole, "well, stayed at the orphanage, loved the kids, did some dramas, helped with the feeding, gave out worm medicine..." all to smiles and nods. "Then we went to a village and prayed with some people and this deaf boy we prayed for got to hear and a mute guy we prayed for started shouting hallelujah..." Face of stone, like a blind had been turned inside. My brother laughed. Mum went to busy herself in the kitchen. On 3 hours sleep in 40 hours I went out to church where people would get excited and grin at what I was so amazed by. (Though for fun I threw a final story at mum on the way out of how we'd met a guy who was raised from the dead and subsequently forgave his murderer). Giggles. But yes. Sad, in some ways, because my family doesn't believe what I've seen. Beautiful, in a way because I appreciate my church family so much more than I ever have before now. Most importantly, I am not going to shut up about this- I'm not standing on a soap box (I don't know what a soap box is...whether it has anything to do with real soap or not)...but if someone asks me what I did over the summer, I'm telling them and I'm telling them straight.
"For we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard." acts 4:20
"You have done many miraculous things, O LORD my God. You have made many wonderful plans for us. No one compares to you! I will tell others about your miracles, which are more than I can count."
Not even attempting to do an overall commentary on Moz, or the summer, or Momentum...things'll filter through in time I'm sure. What I can say is that never in my life have I felt so different after a period of six weeks. Thank you.
G-d, save us from our good intentions.
What you meant to be organic we’ve refined into an engine.
We call it progress, but we forget that even water is poison if we breathe it.
Just how much can we love when we’re spread so thin... spread so thin?
Just how much can we love when we’re spread so thin?
Where are the naked prophets? Where are their harlot wives?
How can the Spirit move when His body parts don’t coincide?
These times are complicated so we compartmentalize,
there are few burdens shared just seldom intersecting lives...
Satan came and offered up the kingdom whole,
Messiah refused, then took it man by man.
Pharisees thought he would topple the empires,
but He changed the world by caring for men, not the systems they create.
Temples for the temples? Systems for the Spirit?
We became the temples, so let’s build each other.
Could we hear the Spirit if we just lived simpler?
Everybody go and grab your neighbors! Let’s all sink our roots and see a harvest!
Nobody alive has all the answers, but Abba bears the load when love is hard!
What to write about! I'm not going to give a blow by blow account. If you want stories or details, by all means ask me because God showed up big time and I could talk for hours of the power and love of His that we were privy to in just 2 weeks in East Africa. My word. What I will say is that my God heals. My God speaks. My God raises the dead. My God loves.
The team I went out with were indescribably wonderful, and it was a privilege, I thought especially for me, to be with them. Each had such different skills and experiences, but we all love Jesus and want to see more of Him, and that was enough to make it work. I can't put into words how grateful I am for the opportunity.
When we were on the plane home, a man in front of us turned and said, "You have the happy bouncy look of people returning from a mission trip". This excited me, that a stranger could glean from our tired exteriors that we'd been in the presence and movement of God. I hoped that we'd glow in the UK, that people would ask us why, that we'd tell them that like Moses on Sinai, we'd been hanging with God and His glory was stuck to us, changing us. When I eventually got back to Nottingham, my mum picked me up. We had coffee, and she asked what we'd been doing. I did the whole, "well, stayed at the orphanage, loved the kids, did some dramas, helped with the feeding, gave out worm medicine..." all to smiles and nods. "Then we went to a village and prayed with some people and this deaf boy we prayed for got to hear and a mute guy we prayed for started shouting hallelujah..." Face of stone, like a blind had been turned inside. My brother laughed. Mum went to busy herself in the kitchen. On 3 hours sleep in 40 hours I went out to church where people would get excited and grin at what I was so amazed by. (Though for fun I threw a final story at mum on the way out of how we'd met a guy who was raised from the dead and subsequently forgave his murderer). Giggles. But yes. Sad, in some ways, because my family doesn't believe what I've seen. Beautiful, in a way because I appreciate my church family so much more than I ever have before now. Most importantly, I am not going to shut up about this- I'm not standing on a soap box (I don't know what a soap box is...whether it has anything to do with real soap or not)...but if someone asks me what I did over the summer, I'm telling them and I'm telling them straight.
"For we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard." acts 4:20
"You have done many miraculous things, O LORD my God. You have made many wonderful plans for us. No one compares to you! I will tell others about your miracles, which are more than I can count."
Not even attempting to do an overall commentary on Moz, or the summer, or Momentum...things'll filter through in time I'm sure. What I can say is that never in my life have I felt so different after a period of six weeks. Thank you.
Saturday, 21 August 2010
Refine.
He saw it burn but not away. He saw no ash but felt the heat on his face.
If there was ever any hope that we could stand on our own,
it was crushed by what he saw on that mountain...
The glory of the latter house is much greater than the former one,
and it was never in the structure but the Builder himself,
and nothing will remain forever if it’s not made new again...
I remember that not every rain stops falling down when the earth is nourished.
I can see now that not every flame is kept steady burning till the wood is ash....
I’m not gonna make it if You don’t remake me. No, I won’t ever make it unless You remake me.
I’ll carry Grace like a flame. Only You could refine. Perfect! Perfect!
Find in me the things to stay. Burn us bright but not away... bright but not away.
I’ll carry Grace like a flame. Only You could refine. Perfect! Perfect!
Strip away all that remains. Burn us bright but not away... bright but not away.
If there was ever any hope that we could stand on our own,
it was crushed by what he saw on that mountain...
The glory of the latter house is much greater than the former one,
and it was never in the structure but the Builder himself,
and nothing will remain forever if it’s not made new again...
I remember that not every rain stops falling down when the earth is nourished.
I can see now that not every flame is kept steady burning till the wood is ash....
I’m not gonna make it if You don’t remake me. No, I won’t ever make it unless You remake me.
I’ll carry Grace like a flame. Only You could refine. Perfect! Perfect!
Find in me the things to stay. Burn us bright but not away... bright but not away.
I’ll carry Grace like a flame. Only You could refine. Perfect! Perfect!
Strip away all that remains. Burn us bright but not away... bright but not away.
Monday, 26 July 2010
OD.
I was thinking last night about how different I am in Nottingham to in Sheffield. How slow-paced the holidays are, how little is achieved, how little fruit I see, how little I look for. Why does my life stop between semesters? How has this become an excuse? Am I so dependent on organised and bureaucratic events like text-a-toastie to tell people that they're loved beyond belief? God, I hope not. I know, it can be about the way you're living, just loving people day to day. I guess I just feel a bit like I'm taking a break from where I'm supposed to be. Although to be honest, I'm not sure anymore. I think there needs to be a shaking up. Yes please. I want that sense of urgency, that passion and that divine energy to do something about it.
In other news, My Epic's new album Yet has been played in my ears repeatedly since I received it on the 8th of July. I cannot describe how good it is. Every day lyrics reflect my heart, my failures and my regrets, my awe and my gratitude. I may go as far to say that it is my all-time favourite album now, which is not something I'm in the habit of professing. The songs are often more challenging than sermons, contain more succinct lessons of who God is, who we are, what life is like trying to reconcile these two. Just beautiful, painful, honest emotion of desperate hearts. It's haunting.
I know with each breath I come one closer, but death is just a hook behind the door where I’ll leave my dirty clothes....
In other news, My Epic's new album Yet has been played in my ears repeatedly since I received it on the 8th of July. I cannot describe how good it is. Every day lyrics reflect my heart, my failures and my regrets, my awe and my gratitude. I may go as far to say that it is my all-time favourite album now, which is not something I'm in the habit of professing. The songs are often more challenging than sermons, contain more succinct lessons of who God is, who we are, what life is like trying to reconcile these two. Just beautiful, painful, honest emotion of desperate hearts. It's haunting.
I know with each breath I come one closer, but death is just a hook behind the door where I’ll leave my dirty clothes....
Tuesday, 20 July 2010
999.
In a relatively unimportant aside, I can't run without ridiculously intense stomach pains. It's the second time it's happened now. I'm not bad with pain, but this made me cry. And dizzy. And sick. There's something cozy about being in the fetal position on the pavement of a main road though. We'll persevere. But I hope it gets better soon because, hilariously, the marathon is in about 7 weeks.
Perfector.
"I'm tired of striving to be who You already say that I am".
The past few weeks have woken me up. I'm tired of conforming to the pattern of life around me. I got so wrapped up in fitting in that I changed shape somehow to do so. I've been reminded of the things that have been put on my heart, what makes me passionate, what makes me...me.
I long for things that I don't have, and disregard those I do.
I now long for longing. I would rather strive for the unattainable, reach for the unreachable, than concede. There must be more than this.
There is.
So you know what, I'm going to Africa in ten days. And I am so ready to face this. Break me, shape me, anything, just take me and use me and make me all Yours.
I've just counted through the money people have been giving to fund the trip, and up until 2 weeks ago it was not looking likely that I would raise enough. In the past week alone, the amount has doubled. God is so incredibly good, and the people He's made to be so generous are beautiful reflections of Him. I will tell you also, that money has literally been appearing, with no explanation or discernible source. Awesome. If you wish to donate (I have no idea who reads this), feel free at http://www.charitygiving.co.uk/become-city-pemba. And wait for the stories of how God's worked through us and in us out there when I return.
I'm quietly excited about quite a few things at the moment. September in Sheffield. Bring it. This year is going to be very different to last year. But more of that later, because I have songs to sing right now...
Ah but lastly, a friend just sent me some songs they've recorded, and I have no idea when the last time was that I was that happy. So joyful. Very grateful. My friends are wonderful.
The past few weeks have woken me up. I'm tired of conforming to the pattern of life around me. I got so wrapped up in fitting in that I changed shape somehow to do so. I've been reminded of the things that have been put on my heart, what makes me passionate, what makes me...me.
I long for things that I don't have, and disregard those I do.
I now long for longing. I would rather strive for the unattainable, reach for the unreachable, than concede. There must be more than this.
There is.
So you know what, I'm going to Africa in ten days. And I am so ready to face this. Break me, shape me, anything, just take me and use me and make me all Yours.
I've just counted through the money people have been giving to fund the trip, and up until 2 weeks ago it was not looking likely that I would raise enough. In the past week alone, the amount has doubled. God is so incredibly good, and the people He's made to be so generous are beautiful reflections of Him. I will tell you also, that money has literally been appearing, with no explanation or discernible source. Awesome. If you wish to donate (I have no idea who reads this), feel free at http://www.charitygiving.co.uk/become-city-pemba. And wait for the stories of how God's worked through us and in us out there when I return.
I'm quietly excited about quite a few things at the moment. September in Sheffield. Bring it. This year is going to be very different to last year. But more of that later, because I have songs to sing right now...
Ah but lastly, a friend just sent me some songs they've recorded, and I have no idea when the last time was that I was that happy. So joyful. Very grateful. My friends are wonderful.
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