Father God

I was leaving for work this morning. And as I was walking out of the door I said to my father "Bye God." I can't remember what I was thinking about before that but I'm pretty sure it must have been God. Dad felt that I may have overestimated his role in my life.

Frued would have been pleased.

"The mechanic says, 'If you’re male and you’re Christian and living in America, your father is your model for God. And if you never know your father, if your father bails out or dies or is never at home, what do you believe about God?'" - Chuck Palahniuk, "Fight Club"

I'm happy I both my dads are good. However one is better than the other and would certainly win in a fight.

Jet Boating

Last Sunday it was my sister Hannah's 16th birthday. It was a big day!

Dad and Hannah were going to be going out on a sailing boat thing. Sailing for the Disabled or something. However the weather meant they couldn't go, the sailing trip had to be postponed.

Still Dad decided that Hannah couldn't turn sixteen without a trip on the water, it is after all an important Australian rite of passage, that sixteenth birthday boating trip. So Dad booked him and her onto one of those jet boats that fly around Sydney Harbour so you can see all the sights at ultra high speeds while vomiting over the side or into the face of the person behind you.

However because Dad doesn't really like vomiting, eating other people's vomit or sight seeing, he thought I might be more interested. I was, I'm not a fan of vomit, but jet boats sound fun. So I was going to be Hannah's chaperone.

In the afternoon Mum, Dad and Hannah had a birthday lunch of fish and chips then picked me up after my Sunday afternoon shop for socks and undies (three pairs of undies, five pairs of socks! Hooray!) and we headed down to Sydney Harbour.

When we arrived at Circular Quay, Hannah didn't seem that excited about going on a boat. She seemed to be more interested in dancing the conga and listening to didgeridoo. I think perhaps she saw the boat and was disappointed it wasn't a real jet boat. She was expecting something with afterburners. It just wasn't hardcore enough for her.

Still we tried to convince her. No luck.

"Hannah we're going to go on a boat! Let's go have fun on the boat!"

"No no boat! Bye bye boat!"

No matter how hard we tried, Hannah wouldn't come. We kept trying right up until it was time to step on to the boat. But it wasn't going to happen.

At the last minute Dad subbed in for Hannah and went on the boat with me. Mum and Hannah stayed on the land and waved us good bye while Dad and I went jet boating for Hannah's birthday. It was good fun. No one vomitted so I think Hannah was right in not going, it certainly wouldn't have been crazy enough for her. But for pansys like Dad and I, it was pretty good fun. Plus I think Dad got to go at disability rates. That's my Dad, always scamming the system.

After the boat we had and ice cream which Hannah liked.

Maybe next birthday we'll find a jet boat with afterburners for Hannah. Or I'm hoping perhaps Dad and I get to go sky diving for Hannah's birthday or something.

Family Upgrade

My sister Jo had her baby. We're all very relieved because a few of us were worried that there was no baby and she just made up the baby to cover-up her love of Pollo Campero's deep fried chicken. But it turns our her fatness was not all chicken, some of it was child.

Or in fact, it was all chicken and they've just stuck photos of a baby on Facebook while she goes to Pollo Campero rehab.

But I'm gonna trust that while my family is sometimes devious about things like this, they're not skilled enough to execute a conspiracy of such massive proportions without my help. So I believe there is a baby and his name is Sebastian. And this is the alleged nephew:



Photo credit: Chochy Morales (my sister in-law once removed or something)

He's very cute.

I picked up Hannah, my younger sister, from after school care today, and I was talking to her about how she's an auntie and I'm an uncle, and I couldn't quite get my head around that. I feel the weight of responsibility now to do the barbecue at Christmas and forget birthdays, uncles have a hard job.

If you notice Sebastian is looking more white than brown. Seeing as his father is a good looking Latino we were hoping for a lady killer mixed-race kid. Mixed race people are almost always hot (unless you do something dangerous like mix an Irish with a Kiwi). They tell me the baby will get darker soon. I hope so. I only allow hot people in my family. Lucky he's a baby, because babies are always cute. He has until he's three to become good looking or I'm voting him out of the family.

Anyway congratulations to Jo for having a baby and not just some chicken. Congratulations to Sebastian for being born, beautiful and a symbol of Australia and Guatemala's friendship and close military alliance. Congratulations to Victor for becoming a Dad and sitting on a couch and eating sandwiches during the labour.


Just so you know, I am actually very thankful to God for Sebastian. I don't care how un-Latino he looks... well I don't care much. And I'm very proud of my sister for having a baby. I wouldn't do it even if I could. I'm really looking forward to meeting him, and forgetting his birthday regularly. Well done, Jo, Victor and Sebastian. Praise God for all his many blessings including children and Pollo Campero!

Noggin

I saw myself in the mirror today and realised what I'd look like if I were bald. I'm pretty sure my head is exactly the same shape as my Dad's - just less full of fatherly goodness.

Year

I'm coming along real good, but I still can't do most of the things I should. - Counting Crows


It's a year today since I left my old job as Youth Minister and headed out of the Christian bubble to see what life was like on the other side.

My year of "non-Christian" work has come to an end, and tomorrow I will begin my entirely unsecular job.

With that in mind, these are some of the things I've learnt and been thinking about in the past 12 months.

Plans

The plan was the leave my job as Youth Minister, get work in a full time secular job, save money then go to the US for a year in 2010. That was my plan. But I knew going in that is was just my plan. Ringing in my mind was James 4:13-15:

Now listen, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money." Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, "If it is the Lord's will, we will live and do this or that."

I have certainly found it to be true.

I never got my full time work in a secular organisation. For most of the year I was technically unemployed. I got a small amount of work ushering at a concert venue, and for the majority of the year, that was it. It was secular, most of my colleagues (perhaps all) aren't Christian, nor do they seem that keen on Christianity. But it's a small job, one or two shifts a month on average.

I ended the year working 1-3 days a week with my friend John the Painter. John is a Baptist pastor who paints houses, one of the guys I spent much of the time working with was around my age and a very strong Christian, the other guy who paints with John is not a Christian, as far as I can tell, though he doesn't talk much. It wasn't really the great secular work I had planned.

I spent 7 months of the year collecting unemployment benefits. I had been wanting to avoid that fate, but it's a little difficult when no one will hire you. Perhaps Centrelink was my great secular experience.

As a result I won't make it to the US for a year, for a few months, maybe not at all in 2010. That plan has been a complete failure.

But I'm not upset. My plans are not God's plans. This year I have had to submit myself to God's plans, whether I have wanted to or not, and his plans are better.

Identity

Quitting my job as a Youth Minister, I knew I was going to have issues with identity. I talked about it at the end of 2008. I knew that I defined myself by my job. As much as I wanted to be defined by who I am in Jesus, it's easier to be defined by how you fill your days, especially when you're passionate about it.

So I knew that in 2009 I would have to learn what it meant to be something other than a Youth Minister.

And it was hard. It was hard to tell people, when asked, that I was unemployed. It was hard not to try and justify it. It was hard to not think they felt sorry for you, or thought you were a loser. It was hard not to think they were judging you.

Most of the time I tried to avoid having to say I was unemployed by listing everything I did. By the end of the year I'd say "I'm a student, an usher, a painter and I visit Centrelink twice a week."

So did I learn to find my identity in Jesus? A little. I learnt a little more that my value doesn't lie in what I do, but in who has saved me.

But I learnt more about who God has called me to be. I may have been a student, a Centrelink patron, an usher, and a brush hand. But all year I thought about ministry. I thought about preaching, and pastoring, and bringing the Bible to bear in people's lives. I'm passionate about serving Jesus in full-time ministry. That's what excites me. Stop me doing it for a year and all I want to do is get back into it. I haven't lost the passion, it's grown.

And that's good. Having spent a year being rejected for jobs because the only thing I know how to do is ministry, if ministry wasn't what I was wired for, I'd be a little stuffed. There is no turning back. My hand won't leave the plough, it's gaffa taped and nail gunned to the plough.

The Call

This year was the most significant year for me, in terms of life direction, since I was called into ministry in 2001. 2009 could end up being the most life shaping year of my life.

My year has effectively been a year of quietness, a year to reflect, a year to seek God's will for me. For the first six months I felt a call from God that had been in the back of my mind for a few years. As 2009 went on it became more and more clear, till I decided to make a decision while I was away in Guatemala and the United States. When I got back I knew for sure that God was calling me to plant a church.

For many of those of you who know me in real life, you already know about this, but some of you won't. But sometime in the next few years I will plant a church. Not by myself, God isn't calling me to go it alone. But God is calling me to church planting. I'm a little disappointed that church planting is the "in" thing at the moment. But I guess that's what God is doing at the moment. Whatever the case, I'm excited.

There's a lot more to say on the subject. Like answering the big question I get asked every time I tell someone I'm planting, "Why do we need more churches?" But for now I'll just say that I know what I'm doing for the rest of my life. Unless I'm completely mistaken, everything from here on in is heading for church planting.

Working for Jesus

When I was trying to figure out whether to leave my old job or not, I was on the bus on the way to meet my minister to tell him my final decision about whether to stay or go. I was doing my daily reading and it was this verse that made up my mind for me:

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men - Col 3:23

It was then I felt God say I could make my own decision, but whatever I did I should do as one working for Jesus. I chose to leave because it made the most sense.

That decision being made it meant that every time I did something I needed to do it as one working for the Lord. Whoever my boss is or is not, my ultimate boss is Jesus, and everything I do I must do as if he was in charge.

So the question was, how do you be unemployed for Jesus? How do you apply for 10 jobs a fortnight for Jesus? How to you spend days and days with nothing you have to be doing for Jesus? How do you usher for Jesus? How do you check tickets for Jesus? How do you open doors for patrons for Jesus? How do you paint for Jesus? How get up at 5:30am for Jesus? How do you strip wallpaper for Jesus? How do you paint a fence for Jesus?

I can't say I always was as diligent as I should have been all year. I can't say I never wasted any time, or always applied for jobs to the best of my ability. But it was a good challenge to have.

2009 wasn't a year off. It was a year with the challenge to serve Jesus in everything I put my hand to. It was a year to learn that I can honour Jesus when I have no job or when I'm cleaning a wall or when I'm standing in an auditorium during a boring seminar, as much as I can honour Jesus when I'm preaching the gospel.

Wealth and Provision, Grace and Self-Sufficiency

I didn't earn much money this year. I've got a lot less money now than when I went in. I owe a lot more money that when I started the year. I spent probably a third of the year with $0 in my bank account.

I know that God provides. I know that God provides through money that comes via unexpected routes. He provides via Centrelink and unemployment benefits. He provides through friends and family who shout you meals and movie tickets and miscellaneous items. He provides through house mates who pay bills and don't break your legs when you can't pay them back straight away. He provides through eating Corn Thins for $1.96 rather than Thai food for $7.90. He provides through parents who give you money when you run out. He provides through friends who give you money when God tells them to. He provides through friends who lend you their car and who lend you money while cavorting overseas.

I know that God provides even when I'm probably about as dumb with money now as I was when I started the year.

And God's provision isn't always easy. It takes humility to accept help when you can't help yourself. It batters your pride to know that the only way you're paying your rent is because the Government is paying it for you.

It's hard to know that you can't do it on your own.

But that's what grace is about. You can't do it on your own. You can't provide for yourself. Grace and pride cannot live together.

Having a lack of funds, has taught me about spiritual poverty. Having friends and family provide for me when I can't provide for myself has taught me about my God who provides himself for me when I have only my sin to offer in return. Having to ask for help has taught me about what it really means to come to God and say to him, "I need you because I can't do this."

I have had a year what I have never gone without. I have been abundantly provided for. I'm so very thankful for my God who provides for all my needs. My daily bread and my eternal life. I have a good God.

* * *

Everything else, I probably can't or don't want to categorise. I've learnt so much more. It's been a big year. Any year where your sister gets married three times in one year is a big year. It's certainly been a big year for my family.

2009 was the year I left my church and job of 6 years. The year found a new church and a whole new bunch of friends. It was the year I had more free time, more jobs and more hours spent in the library than in the previous 7 years. It was the year I finally made it to the US properly. It was the year came close to crying almost once a week because I'm becoming a big sook.

And while it's been a pretty stress free year, in other ways I've been faced with things this year bigger and closer to home than any I had faced before. It's been a year when I've been angrier, more confused, more helpless than I ever have. I've learnt more about sin, my own and other peoples', than perhaps I ever have. And I've learnt more about forgiveness, both being forgiven and forgiving, than I have before.

It's been an excellent 12 months. I have seen God again this past year. Once more he has been faithful beyond all reason and expectation. I can't put into words the goodness I see in Jesus. I am so abundantly blessed. Whatever happens from here on in, whatever the next year holds for me, I know I go in to it with friends and family who are more wonderful than I could ever hope for and a God who loves me more than I could ever hope to understand.

The Wed

I'm not sure this blog is going to do the day justice, so I apologise to all you Jo fans out there in advance. But I'll write more than anyone else has so far, I promise you that.

I'd start from the beginning of the wedding, but I'm not sure when that was. The day before was full of things like rehearsals, speech, sermon and vow printing, meals, and people being stressed.

The day started at around 5am when the bridesmaids awoke singing. They didn't wake me up but I think the rest of the house was blessed by their melodies. They all headed off to get their hair done.

I woke at six something and showered, got dressed, and noticed the rain. Of course we'd all been praying for sunshine, but we got rain. Alanis Morissette popped into my head.

At 8 10 of the many people who had converged on the house were put in cars with various bits of the world-wide wedding cake put on top of them. I was given a box to hold labeled "EXTREMELY! FRAGILE!" This made me somewhat nervous. But when Di who was sitting next to me got a whole tier of the cake placed on top of her, I was most thankful that my load was small, light and probably less important.

The two cars left the house driving slowly through the streets of Antigua with the all powerful hazard lights on. It was like when they drive heavy equipment or nuclear bombs through the centre of small towns, at least that's how it felt in the car. Outside people didn't seem to understand the nature of the convoy. We got a chicken bus on our tail for the second half of the trip honking and threatening to run us over the whole time, but Lerae, our driver, was fearless and defiant, refusing to be intimidated. She managed to get us and the cake pieces to the venue in one piece, if you know what I mean.

The wedding venue is the most sought after venue in Guatemala, so I'm told. It's on the top of a hill over looking Antigua, surrounded by plush gardens, and interesting sculptures made by someone famous. The wedding was meant to be out under a shade cloth under the watchful eye of the volcano, but the rain moved us underneath the giant, permanent circus tent thing, where the reception was to be held. It wasn't a disaster. In fact, it was more intimate, because we were forced to do the ceremony in the round, or at least we did it in a line, one half of the congregation facing another with Jo and Victor in the middle.

On arrival, I sat down with Erica, my translator, and we went through the sermon together. She'd translated it the week before so we really just had to make sure we could do it together ok.

Then it was time to stand around and wait for something to happen. There was a lot of meeting of Guatemalan people who I couldn't talk to. Finally we all went to our seats, half an hour late, Sons of Korah started up and out of no where appeared Van dressed as a bridesmaid and walking down the make shift isle. It took people a little while to realise what was going on, and when Van reached the end of the isle she didn't quite know what to do, cause everything that had been rehearsed the day before was useless. But she did alright. For those of you want to know about the dresses and all that, the bridesmaids dresses were green, the flowers were colourful and the bridesmaids looked good.

Yep, I could write bridal magazines.

Jo arrived with Mum and Dad. Her dress was white. I almost cried (but I didn't because emotions are for weak people). It was strangely affecting to see my sister getting married. I don't think I've really thought through the significance of Jo's marriage for me, so I was surprised that I was emotional about it. But she's my sister and I love her, and I'm real happy that she's getting married, so I guess that's enough.

The ceremony, if it had not been in two languages would have been a rather simple affair, songs, sermon, prayers, vows, song, songs, recessional. But seeing as it was in two languages the whole thing seemed more elaborate, and it certainly was much longer. Added to this that it was cold and rainy and we were in an undercover but open air place, I thing there were a lot of cold people, especially bridesmaids and brides.

I preached, the jokes that there were crossed the Guatemalan divide, but there weren't many jokes. About half way through the sermon I realised it was going long. And while I normally would just edit on the fly, I couldn't because I had a translator and we were working of a pre-arranged manuscript. Erica, who did really well, had asked me at rehearsal if I was happy with the length, she may have been politely saying "It's too long you, nong!" But I didn't pick up on the politeness and thought it was fine.

Still people survived, and had the sermon been in just one language I would have been happy, so I'll sit with that.

When I sat down after preaching I sat next to Valentina who turned to me and said "So cool". And I thought "Wow, Valentina liked it." Then I thought about it some more and realised Valentina would never say "So cool" and actually she had said "So cruel". This stressed me out because I thought I'd really offended her some how with all my talk of needing Jesus in your marriage. But it turns out she was only talking about the length, especially when all the young women were freezing to death. I have to admit, I agree, it felt cruel while I was up there. I wrote a summer sermon.

The rest of the ceremony was lovely. I watched most of it with a lump in my throat. There was a Guatemalan lasso, Australian prayers, and even a John Colman song sung by Alex the American (who became my best friend for two days). It was a good ceremony. And as we sat and looked outside the rain stopped and the mist cleared and we could see glimpses of Antigua below. It was pretty special.

After the ceremony was the reception. I had a job to pull a string connected to a giant lace bell full of rice and beans as the bride and groom walked under it entering the reception . It's a Guatemalan tradition I'm told to wish the couple prosperity. I didn't do too well. My string broke and Victor Snr (Father of the Groom) had to run in and tear the bell apart with his strong, manly hands. Needless to say, I felt like a little bit of a failure.

The reception was breakfast, so I filled myself with eggs, sangers, beans and smoothies while Jo and Victor circulated and talked to all 200 of Victor's Cousins. You can tell he's an ethic just by the number of cousins he has. Those of us from devoloped nations only have a reasonable number like 15 at the most.

Watching them made me glad I'm not getting married. I don't want to talk to 200 people ever, unless it's all at once.

There were speeches, in two languages, plenty of tears from the Australians, Valentina's epic cake (which looked awesome) and then lots of standing around. There was a traditional Guatemalan band, but no dancing as dancing is a sin for Guatemalan Presbyterians so we all stood around and tried not to jig.

Finally, when most people had gone home, Jo and Victor decided to leave, and so did we. Jo's car broke down so she and Victor had to be driven to their swanky hotel in Victor's Brother-in-Law's flower filled car. We stayed behind and pushed the Corolla up and down the hill. Victor Snr finally started it by doing a live battery transplant.

By the time we all got home, we were all pretty wrecked. I read my book, ate some toast then went to sleep.

And that was the wedding day.

In the morning we all headed off to breakfast with the newly weds. You can tell your sister loves people when she has breakfast with 16 friends and family on the first morning of her honeymoon.

As it turned out, when Lesley and I made it to the airport we found out we were booked on the same plane to El Salvador with Jo and Victor. So we had the privilege of doing the first leg of their honeymoon journey with them. It was nice but a little odd. Like I said after Jo's first wedding, we're a close family.

Now we're in Washington DC and they're in Argentina. I'm going to bed. I'll blog about DC later.

The wedding was good. Jo and Victor are awesome. They're gonna be a great family and their kids are gonna be cute.

It rained but Jesus reigned.

Talking to the Brother-in-Law

I just had this conversation on Google talk with my soon-to-be brother-in-law in Guatemala. I think we'll be friends.

I hope he doesn't mind me posting this. I didn't ask permission.

Jo: hey vics is here and says hi
Tom: I'm guessing Vic is Victor. Do we pronounce that Bic? Hi Bvic!
Victor: I'm don Victor For you jejeje
Tom: I think you'll find it's HaHaHa.
Victor: no its spanish laughing
Tom: I'm in Australia. I can't understand Spanish laughing.
Jo: you need to learn to communicate with your future brother in law...
Tom: I have leant Spanish.
Jo: oh really???
Tom: Victor: Tenga cuidado o me ponche la cara tan dura que se cae. (In English "Be careful or I will punch your face so hard it falls off)
Oh yeah. Google strikes again!
Victor: Tom ponche its the drink tah i made a christmast time so u are so sweet???
Tom: Hold on.
Tenga cuidado o me golpeó la cara con mi puño tan duro que se cae. (In English "Be careful or I will hit your face with my fist so hard it falls off)
Victor: u are a little bit more rude than the ponche in this moment
Tom: I'm just telling you why you should respect me Don Bictor.
Victor: so im a little scared but really im a nightmare
Tom: You're a nightmare! I'm worse than a nightmare! I'm a nightmare with a jet pack and samurai sword!
Victor: o i have more color than you im brown like a hard brownie the most hard brownie that you have ever seen
and no not the poo tipe of brownie
so you need to respect me
your Brownie man
are you scared???
Tom: You win, Brownie Boy.
I can never be hard like a hard brownie.