Something Made Me Cry Today

Sarah's Video




Thanks to Amy...

(Might not work on slower computers...)

Hello and Welcome

Yes, I have cheered up, so no more depressing blogs for a while. Phew, I hear you breathe a sigh of relief. Yes, I am relieved too.

Who has read the Da Vinci Code? Yeah, I know, it's very controversial. It says... ooh no I better not ruin it for those of you who want to read it. Needless to say, it is very controversial. I think it is important to bear in mind that it is a work of fiction, and not in any way intended to contain historical fact. Which is good, because Dan Brown has taken great liberties with historical fact... as the all knowing Wikipedia points out here (I love the Wikipedia). The point I am making is actually not about the book, which in my opinion, does not live up to its excessive hype. The thing on my mind is what the book kind of points to - that we as Christians have lost sight of the sacred feminine.

Now, before you go accusing me of heresy, my thoughts are not as controversial as all that. What I have been thinking is that as Christians (and particlarly as woman) we, in church, ignore the fact that if God is Masculine, he (she?) is equally Feminine. The best we can do, when thinking about God, is come up with metaphors. The way we talk about God, the names of God, these are just shadows and mirages of Who God Actually Is. God's name is "I am Who I am". How awe-fully cryptic, and yet so perfectly correct. God is who He is. God is who She is. Neither is more true, both are metaphors, pictures and images. I think the reality is that God is not neither, but both. God is not a man. God is not a woman. God is not bound by gender, as we are. We must not define God so simply. But, our minds are simple and metaphors are useful. The key thing here is not to be caught up in metaphors, to bear in mind they are just that.

They are useful though, and for me, thinking about the feminine God, the mother heart of God is very helpful. I have issues with men, especially powerful men. I am working through them, but they remain for now. So, at times, my anger at powerful men extends to God, if I refer to Him too often. Sometimes, it is special for me to come to God as Woman. This is because I relate better, and because through it my own specialness as a woman is confirmed. Sometimes the father heart of God is less important to me than the mother heart. Furthermore, I find love from men hard to accept. I find it difficult to see how a man could love me, or respect me. Again, this is just baggage from my past, but when I need love it is special for me to remember that God is a Woman too, and she loves me. Love from women, for me, is easier to accept.

Anyway, these are my thoughts. God as my mother, God as my friend. God loving me with care and compassion, God fiercely defensive of me, as only a woman can be.

She loves me, she does.

Don't Read This It's Depressing

I assumed my questioned would pass unnoticed, or people would just answer it as is. I most definitely did not intend to start an abortion debate. I did not want one on my blog. However, one has arisen, and now my comment is too long for a comment, and has become another blog.
Wouldn't it be convenient if things that were wrong in theory could be right in practise? Unfortunately, if a thing is wrong in theory, it is also wrong in practise, otherwise it would not be wrong at all. I think we can agree that a person becomes a person when they are conceived. Thus, any argument applied to a person fully developed applies to a person not yet developed (otherwise, it would be fine to murder a baby after it had been born, and before it fully developed...). I further think that we can agree that the only time when it is considered right (and I use this term carefully) to kill a person is in self defence. Thus, unless the unborn person is directly threatening another person's life, it cannot be considered right to kill that person. The only flaw in this argument, as I see it, is if you disagreed about an unborn person being a person - which, as far as I can tell, is a logical impossibility.

Furthermore, it would be untrue to say that you can't know if something is right or wrong if you haven't DONE it however, since we know that murder is wrong without murdering, and theft is wrong without stealing etc etc etc.

Although it is, of course, important to come up with Christian arguments for things (since something can't be wrong just because Christians think it's wrong) I am primarily concerned with arguments that are secular. This is because we currently inhabit a secular world, and only arguments that can be logical according to accepted fact will have any wash. Abortion is a wrong that needs to be corrected, it is an inconsistency in our laws. I want an argument to help me change them. Do you see what I mean? (and here I agree with Shawn) I see this as being different from doctrine, although I value doctrine.

Finally, although I have full sympathy for the pain of those victims of rape and incest mentioned, neither of those situations alter the realities of right and wrong. It would be so hard to carry a baby who reminds you of the pain you suffered, but this is a person you are talking about, and one wrong is not helped by another. It will not make the situation better long term by adding a wrong to the one already committed. Emotion clouds judgment, but it does not change the rights and wrongs. My friend had an abortion not so long ago because she was raped, and I never attempted to change her mind. As long as I live I will regret that, and so does she. I knew it was wrong, and so did she, and yet neither of us had the courage of our convictions. Of course it makes it harder to act rightly, but the harder road is often the right one and how we wish we had taken it.

Abortion is such an emotive issue, and not one I want to get into on this blog. As I see it, the laws of the land are unlikely to change. Abortion is seen as a solution to a problem, and we live, after all, in a problem solving society. In the long term, I am sure, we will find out that abortion is not a solution at all, but rather a problem in itself. It is, in some ways, a product of our sick society, where convenience is our first concern, and perfection worshipped.

The worst thing is that I really have no intention of doing anything about this. What can I do? The 60's and 70's have passed, people do not protest any more. We used to think we had a voice, now we know we don't. If I am truly honest, what I really want is to be right. This sickens me. I wish I were different, but I am not. So self righteous I am, railing against the apathetic masses, but I myself am one of them. God, make me different.

A question...

Okay, do you think it would be fair to assume (in the philosophical sense) that the fact of existance ought to guarantee the right of existance. That is, if a person exists, the fact of their existance gives them the right to exist.

In the Disabled Bay I am

And feeling quite at home in front of my abnormally large screen, fumbling with this abnormal and difficult mouse. Sheebers.

Simona is here reading about White Collar Crime (actually a very fascinating subject). I am not, I am just 'helping'. Which means reading out her outline at strategic points and stopping her from using the internet. Oh, and fixing her spelling and grammer.

Watch Star Wars we did. Yes, I was supposed to be studying and so was she, but to Starwars we went. And a tragic movie it is too, but that's all I will say. And disturbing for someone of my delicate sensibilities.

Simona, you are reading my blog and not your book, don't think I don't notice.

Ah what a world of controversy this blogging is creating at the moment. Shall I submit my views on the civil unions bill for perusal? I think not, a dead issue it is, and not to be brought up on my blog. ;-) Controversy I do not like (sounding like Yoda I do not like).

Time to stop, before I cross to the dark side.

A Moment in Which to Recover

I am taking a moment to recover my brain. I have now written just under 1500 words on the usefulness and unusefulness of the concepts of ethnicity and race respectively. I am exhausted and also hungry. Did I mention exhausted? I am. My mind is tired. My body is tired. My emotions are tired. My eyes are tired. My fingers are tired. My inner voice is tired (tired of being unwaveringly enthusiastic and optimistic). I feel like I've been at it for weeks, but this is untrue.

I have a new idea for a reality show though, which brings me brief moments of joy. It will be called DHB Dream Transplant. What happens is two deserving people with kidney failure will be chosen to receive a kidney transplant. They will then have six weeks in which to recover, and to demonstrate their recovery they will need to complete certain challenges week by week. After the six weeks is up, the audience will vote to ascertain which one has recovered best. The winner gets to keep the kidney, and the loser's kidney will go up for auction. (They will have a chance to bid on it thanks to ANZ Personal Loans). Does this sound like a winner to you?

Thank you, I'm here all week.

(Disclaimer: this is not all my own work)

Also, another moment of Joy - Jesus in a Hoodie.

Praying as conversation

I haven't been feeling fabulous lately, which is probably why my blogs have been such downers. ;-) Uni has been hard work, and because of that I hardly see my friends, and that makes me feel crap. But, the important work of learning to turn firstly to God has been greatly enhanced by this. When, at night, I feel low, I want to text my friends and get them to cheer me up. Often I do, but sometimes I think to myself, no. Here is an opportunity to turn to God first and let HIM cheer me up and comfort me. After all, if I say I love him first, I better practise it.

So, I have been working on prayer as conversation lately. What this means, for me, is that I spurn all jargon, and speak to God, outloud, as if he were right there sitting on my bed. Which, of course, I believe He is. This is quite a discipline. No more "I just pray", or "please just do this", because I would never talk to any person like that. I do pray like that mostly, because it serves its purpose. I am not against jargon, it's useful. But sometimes not allowing myself to fall back onto old ways of praying challenges me into better honesty.

And, quite frankly, it works. I did feel cheered up last night. Plus, I felt like I really prayed, with my mind as well as the rest of me. And I find that is not as easy as it sounds.

Being Pakeha Part II

Well, it seems I have struck a nerve. I was about to reply to some of the comments on my last post, but it seemed that it was more blog worthy.

All of the comments were very interesting, and revealed that this is a topic that is close to the heart of those of us who form the majority. This flies in the face of what many scholars think about majority groups, but confirms what my feelings are. In this day and age where ethnicity and culture are so important, the question arises in those of us whose culture goes unacknowledged, particularly by the modern media.

I choose the term Pakeha to describe myself for several reasons, the first being that the myth of its negative origins is now well and truly exploded. Pakeha does not mean village flea or maggot or white pig. Rest your minds! The second is that it acknowleges the Maori culture which is important to me, because I both love and respect it. Thirdly, for me, the term New Zealander is incomplete, since it does not acknowlege any ethnicity. Whatever the politicians would like us to think, we are not 'one people' but many peoples, and learning to live with each other and celebrate difference is a key challenge. Fourthly, well you know what I think of 'New Zealand European', although I was both challenged and comforted by Lynn's point of view.

So, I love the term Pakeha, and what it represents in and of itself. But my question remains, what is my culture? Do I have one? Yes, clearly I have an identity, but what is that constructed of. Perhaps more clearly, my question is, what is my ethnicity, what is it about being Pakeha that is different from any other ethnicity?

This is my journey. Your comments uplifted me, and challenged me. Thanks for joining me on it.

Being Pakeha...

Do I have a culture?

Surely, I must have a culture.

The term European New Zealander always makes me so cross. I am not European. I have no connection to Europe. I always cross that out on the forms and write New Zealander, or more lately Pakeha.

I am Pakeha. But, what does that mean?

I have the travel bug...

I do, I want to go on holiday. Now, this may be in part due to the horrendous amount of work I ought to be doing (at this very moment), in fact, it maybe entirely for this reason, but whatever. I have it. Last year I went tramping up to Lake Daniels (perhaps tramping overstates what actually occured). Today, as I pulled on my long socks and my thermal singlet, the longing caught me. The fresh air, the toadstools, the little robins unafraid, the great fallen trees, the quiet, the solitude.

Ah, to be out.

Cities are so filthy aren't they? Sometimes I am just so sickened. I would live in the country, if it were more convenient. I get disgusted sometimes at the thought of all the fumes and the rubbish. Urgh.

I wish I could pack a bag and go for a walk to Lake Daniels, where God is evident in every little thing. Last time, I stood on the wharf over the lake and sung hymns.

Then when I looked into the water
I saw the stars had fallen in

Genius

I am a HUGE fan of quotes and proverbs...and a brilliant one appeared on my fat little friend's blog - Simona.

Magic.

This is another...

God is subtle, but He is not malicious.

I think it's Albert Einstein. This quote has been an absolute keystone in my walk with God. Understanding pain and suffering is so much easier when I think of it as God's subtlety, and not his maliciousness.

Especially When You're SUCH a Liar

Tonight, I learned (once again) that honesty is the best policy.

I have the worst assignment in the history of the world, and I just can't do it. Anyway, I work all day tomorrow, but I really needed to take it off, so I could finish my assignment. Otherwise, I may as well quit uni and get my money back. So, there are two options.

Option One: Lie and say I'm sick

Option Two: Tell the truth, and not get the day off

A few weeks ago, I took Option One. In an unbelievable coincidence, all of the computers at Uni were down, just for that one day, so I couldn't do any work at all.

Today, I took Option Two. And, my boss (God bless her) said take the day off.

So, I told the truth, and I got the day off.

He Smiles On Me.

Ten Things I Love About Nandor Tanczos

Okay, one thing.

He tried to give David Benson-Pope an invoice for $54 millions dollars, for all the student allowances that they promised to pay, and never did.

Fantastic!!! See, at least Nandor cares.

Futhermore, I recommend his blurb on fatherhood. I thought it was most lucid, moving actually.

1.8 Kilos

Yes folks, that's how much I lost this week. Ah, I feel so self satisfied. How did it happen? I don't deserve it. I had cheescake on Saturday night, for crying out loud. Cheesecake contains all the fat and sugar intake you require for a week. Anyway, why look too deeply into these things? I lost 1.8 Kilos, probably because I'm so fantastic.

On a slightly different note - self satisfied is exactly how God never lets me stay, at least not for long. I was just feeling like I trust God oh so much, and everything is so great (and by everything, I mean me). Then bam he asks something of me that is so hard, I can hardly do it. I don't think I can do it. It is HARD to trust Him. Why is it so hard? He is God, after all. God the Uncreated. All power belongs to Him, literally. He can create the world, but he can't come through for me, in this thing? I know, its irrational. But, I hear Him say, "He knows we are dust". Yep, He knows what we are made of.

But, deep down, I know what He is made of, and somehow the courage comes to trust Him.

I hope!

And Jumping on the Joke Bandwagon

From my Mum (a venerable woman):

I know why it's good to have friends my own age.

If I repeat something I already told them, they don't remember.

Hearts are aflutter...

I think I met the man of my dreams last night. Now, I should qualify that by saying he was and is so far out of my league that he may actually be playing a different game. However, it gives me hope that there may still be one or two single, Christian, perfect men left in the world. Yes, he was good looking, masculine, funny, very intelligent, laid back and yet capable of serious thought, a Christian, and he laughed at my jokes.

They exist!

Phew.

You can be great...

Most people know that my life mission is to end world poverty. Last year, when I took a first year sociology paper, I not only discovered my major, I also discovered my life's great passion. I heard for the first time how poverty is not some natural disaster, but the disgusting product of greed, and the imbalance of power. I heard the figures, I learned the theory, the history. I was, in some way, traumatized. Then, shortly after I went to Parachute, and listened to the World Vision speakers, especially Princess Zulu who has the aids virus.

I want to tell you that my heart was broken, and not by human hands.

Excerpts from Bono's speech to the Labour Party in Britain:

"...justice is a tougher standard. Africa makes a fool of our idea of justice; it makes a farce of our idea of equality. It mocks our pieties, it doubts our concern, it questions our commitment.
Because there's no way we can look at Africa- a continent bursting into flames - and if we're honest, conclude that it would ever be allowed to happen anywhere else. Anywhere else. Certainly not here. In Europe. Or America. Or Australia, or Canada.
There's just no chance.

...We are the first generation that can look extreme and stupid poverty in the eye, look across the water to Africa and elsewhere and say this and mean it: we have the cash,we have the drugs,we have the science -- but do we have the will? Do we have the will to make poverty history? Some say we can't afford to. I say we can't afford not to".

His speech is fantastic. Read it, it is fantastic. I have a deep fear that my grandchildren will not look kindly on my generation, when they learn at school that:

30,000 (real) children die every day from preventable poverty-related causes;
800 million (real) people suffer from hunger; and
1.2 billion (real) people live on less than US$1 a day.

And like I said, this is not some natural disaster - they pay with their lives for our luxuries. That sounds like I am being melodramatic, but actually, it is the truth. If you have any money in your pocket, or your wallet, or your bank account - you are richer than 92% of the worlds population. Sickened? I am.

Nelson Mandela to finish:

"Like slavery and apartheid, poverty is not natural. It is man-made and it can be overcome and eradicated by the actions of human beings...

Sometimes it falls upon a generation to be great. You can be that great generation. Let your greatness blossom. Of course the task will not be easy. But not to do this would be a crime against humanity, against which I ask all humanity now to rise up. Make Poverty History in 2005. Make History in 2005. Then we can all stand with our heads held high".

Inspired? I am. If so, head to the World Vision site and see what YOU can do.

Happy Birthday Mum

The Top Ten Things I love About My Mum:

10. She reads my Blogspot, and makes thoughtful comments
9. She makes the best Pumpkin Soup and the best Jam in the world.
8. She knows how to text, and she texts me
7. She reads my essays and fixes them
6. One word - Miracles (it's the chocolate, it's the jam)
5. She thinks I am fantastic, and she tells me.
4. She is a great speaker, and she loves people
3. She is kind and thoughtful AND strong and couragous all at the same time.
2. She is the most amazing Christian I've ever known (as well as my Dad)
1. She is funny, she is brave, she is determined and she makes me feel loved.

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No! It's Superwoman!!!

I love you Mum, Happy Birthday.

Ghost of Christmas Past

Recently, I saw someone from my not so distant past. Today I spoke to someone from my VERY distant past. In my mind I am constantly wondering "what did they think? Can they see I am different? Do they remember who I was?" In a town as small as Christchurch, the past is always just around the corner, or sitting at the end of your pew. There's no escaping it.

"Time takes time" according to Ben Folds, and he is right. The past is pain, at times, and it's hard when the pain is introduced into the new season, by the people who carry it with them. I made a fool of myself in my past, and when I see those people who saw it, I am reminded (and humiliated).

But, why be negative? I am changed - not remade, but reborn. I am free from the past and its constraints, and I am not that person anymore. I am also free of other people's expectations and judgments of me. What is important is God's expectation and judgment of me...and also, to a lesser degree, my own.

When I see these people, when the intial torment subsides, I am AMAZED at what God can do, and at what HE has done in me. Surrender to him, I beg you. Not in word only, but in deed. Tell Him, do what you will with me, whether I want you to or not. Give Him permission to do in you, what you would not have him do. He is GOD after all, God the uncreated, God the Faithful. What is there to fear? "For our present troubles are quite small and won't last very long. Yet they produce for us an immeasurably great glory that will last forever!" (1 Corinthians 4:17)

All For Jesus.

Signs of Life

You are so vague to me
Sometimes I think you're barely there at all
A quiet God who speaks between great intervals of silence

And if I still my thoughts for long enough
I might feel something
And be assured that you are there (for me)

But I am tired of summoning you up in my own mind
And giving you my faces and my words
I think I'll leave you to your own devices

And suddenly you're there
The moment that I look away
You appear

I wrote this a while ago, about three years I would say. I was so tired of God's silence, I wanted the supernatural. I wanted to HEAR him, I wanted some sign of life. He felt absent, I did not fully understand at the time that this was part of his 'character building'.

I think we are so often like that. We want to FEEL something, we want to have the concrete experience. But God is not like that, more often than not. I love this quote "God is subtle, but he is not malicious". Subtle He is, most often. His leading of us is almost imperceptible, thus His work is better viewed retrospectively. Once I understood this, my Christian experience became somewhat easier. I had to learn to surrender my longing for the dramatic, and look instead for God's subtleties in my life.

His fingerprints are everywhere...watch for the signs...

Life As A Lemming

"Because it's like that time has been forgotten (which in a way is a good thing) but maybe I felt that my experience of that time has been forgotten and invalid."

Amy's post today really moved me. I am one of the lemmings. For so long I loved Opawa, I believed in Opawa, I worked and gave my heart to Opawa. My relationship with God crumbled and I never noticed until it was gone, because I never put anything above Opawa. Opawa was my world.

Such a state of affairs cannot last indefinitely, and there came a time when it was right for me to leave. That time was about two years ago, just before the winds of change began to sweep over Opawa. I think often if ONLY I had waited, just a short time. If only I had hung on, not given up, not escaped. All the years would have seen a harvest. As it is, Amy's words echo in my heart. My experience of that time has been forgotten and invalid, and my contribution to what Opawa is now has been obsoleted. I mean nothing at Opawa anymore. All the years when I was right there, up the front....working and praying and giving everything I had, and now all the new people don't even know my name. It's so painful, so strange, so surreal.

I am not sorry I left, I have found a new place, I know I am where God wants me, my relationship is restored, I am so happy with myself, I am FREE. I have discovered what Church can be like. I wish though, that I had stayed just a little longer, so I could have been part of the new Opawa, so I could have been part of the harvest.

As it is, I am so PROUD of Amy and all the others, who didn't flee like rats from a sinking ship. I am in awe. I am glad that Opawa is changing, I am glad that there is hope, even out of such brokeness. I remember well how awful it was when the others left, I am sorry I added to that awfulness. I wish Opawa, and all who dwell there, the very best of God's blessings.

The question is...

Did I spill the raspberry on the carpet, or was it there when Mum and Dad went away? Hahah, just kidding Dad....there's no raspberry.

I am supposed to be in my Ethnicity Tutorial at the moment, but I decided that my time would be better spent catching up on my readings. And, instead here I am. I encourage all and sundry readers (both of you) to get your own blogs, because there is something manifestly empowering about having a form of expression that is YOURS AND YOURS ALONE! Self indulgent it may be, but it helps.

This is what I have been (God has been) forming in my mind...this idea of myself as a unique person who is profoundly alone in an individual sense. Does that sound depressing? It used to depress me when people said, 'there's nobody like you'. I used to think to mineself, well then, I am totally alone. But NOW, that feels like freedom. I am the only person in my life from start to finish. I look at my life, and it is just mine. Others come and go, I have differing connections with different people...parents, siblings, friends...perhaps a husband and children one day, but EACH of them is only there for part of the journey. The only one who is there the whole time is me. (And, God of course...but that's a given, and not what I am referring too).

See, the best metaphor of life for me is a journey, or a pilgrimage, if you will, and on this pilgrimage there is just me. And that is such a great feeling! Have I explained myself? Perhaps not. This idea or conception of myself is EMPOWERING for me. Because, if my life is entirely my own, I ought not spend it trying to please others, whose life it is not. It's MY journey, and I get to choose the directions.

So my blog, in one way, is an expression of this, because it is a page all about me (it's all about me...). I create it, I write it, I link to things I like, I talk about things that matter to me. It's a representation of myself and, significantly, a public one. This is a great feeling. Is this terrible? Self indulgent? Hope not.

W B Yeats

This is the poem I referred to (and incorrectly quoted...)


When You are Old


When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Isn't that lovely? I love this poem, especially the pilgrim soul/changing face lines.

Genius!

I went and looked at the other pilgrim souls blog, and she seems nice. I wonder if she got it from Yeats? I didn't like to ask, it didn't seem like great timing. Plus, since she is here first, I have sort of stolen her thing. Its a great poem though.

Finest Food

I am 24, and I am single. I have BEEN single for a long time now, much longer than I thought I would be. Sometimes singleness looks like freedom, and sometimes it looks like pain, but always it is there, in the background of my life. I have come to look on it as a gift, but it is a bittersweet one.

...

There are these dreams - dreams that cause me to long for something other than singleness. Not sexual dreams, dreams of love, that stay with me all day. The longing in me for this love is deep, very deep. Also, there is a man. I barely know him (it is always so) but I see in him something I would have, and this causes me pain, because I know how these things end. I BEG God to take this longing away, but he does not. He shows me that this longing is good - it is how he intended me to be, and he will not take it away, since it is intended. Instead, he says, hold it up as "a thing precious", an offering of a good thing. And then he says "I will satisfy you, like the finest of foods". (Psalm 63). This is a hard thing, a thing that burns me, but I love to hear his voice. He looks at me, and I am deeply aware that he KNOWS me. So, there is sadness, but also, there is joy.

...

Now we live with a wonderful expectation because Jesus Christ rose again from the dead. For God has reserved a priceless inheritance for his children. It is kept in Heaven for you, pure and undefiled beyond the reach of change and decay. (1 Peter 1:3-4 NLT)

...

(You should not think that I am sad, this is not so. I have joy, because I know he builds in me righteousness, and because his way IS the best way. Also, I am happy - life is sweet.)

My First Blog EVER.

Well, this is an exciting moment....my first ever post. My first venture into the world of blogs. It's a little scary, since it's for the world to see. However, this fear is tempered by the fact that NOBODY KNOWS I'M HERE! Lol.

I don't know what to say, perhaps brevity is my best bet.

On the other hand....

Today has been nice. It is raining outside, but I am inside, warmed by lovely fire I created.

Do you know, I wanted to use pilgrim soul as my web address, because I LOVE that idea (from a poem by....W B Yeats: "But one man loved the pilgrim soul in me"), but someone else has STOLEN IT! So I tried various combinations, and I think I have come out with thepilgrimsouls. Or some such thing. Anyway, I shall post this and go see WHO has stolen MY address, and why.

Ka Kite Ano.