them bones, them bones …. and the butchers of civil

 

One cannot be accused of being indecisive if one has no real personal opinion.

One also cannot be accused of being opinionated if one has no real opinion to begin with.

 

We’re in a mess.  It seems that those whose decisions really matter are indecisive, even silent, and those who are decisive have only one voluminous perspective – their own.  And quite frankly they have relegated themselves to where their opinion really doesn’t matter at all anymore anyway.  Mostly it’s just a lot of foul smelling hot air.  It draws attention, yes, but only because a smelly decaying corpse does too.

 

This is not a new thing.  We’ve been like this for a very long time.  The problem has been with us right from our very beginnings.

The challenge is that we might never get out of the mess we are in until we make some sound decisions.  We need to stand up and then take that stand.  But clearly we  need help.  Many of us don’t think we do but I think we do.  I’m sure we do.  I even think that we need it badly, even desperately.  We need some radical stuff to happen.  And maybe that radical stuff is us.

 

Here’s how I see it: ~ God decides the only way to sort this whole mess out is to lower the playing field to the lowest common denominator and effectively take a stab at raising the game and even changing the rules from there.  A huge risk with unbelievable capital investment demanded, but clearly not only a good shot, but the best shot possible.

 

So he does what we clever religious ones have called the ‘condescension’.  An interesting label we give it because we seem to have totally messed it up and inverted its meaning and application completely.

Now the dictionary wasn’t really on the web in those days but these days it says:

Condescend = 1. To act graciously towards another or others regarded as being on a lower level; behave patronizingly  2. To do something that one regards as below one’s dignity http://www.thefreedictionary.com/condescend .

 

So, God gets his feet dirty, his hands, his torso, his head, everything gets utterly filthy.

 

And here’s the nuts and bolts of God’s idea ~ God is going to try beat the dirt at its own game, … and this from the bottom of the pit.

 

Actually it all starts with this injected metaphor of the creative power of concepts, ideas – ‘words’ to be practically specific.  At first this is sort of spoken but then it is recorded in text some time later.  The whole idea is made into a picture and is securely installed into the hearts and minds of men through oral tradition and then later in the first recorded textual stories of creation.  It is reemphasised and redefined again right at the beginning of the final act when God’s becoming like one of us to do the dirty deed is done and recorded.

 

The idea is that the life taken up will be a sign.  A sign filled with amazing power.  Like a tiny seed that can be the start of a whole forest, this seed of an idea is sown.  And as we know, seeds grow best in dirt.  And this dirt is very dirty and the ground is smelly, rotten and ripe.  But this seed is simply busting with potential.

This is an outrageous idea as the platform for this seed is not a beautiful and majestic social structure at all.  It’s not a religious structure either – neither a political one.  If anything the structure it is sown into and even the way it manifests in its structure is quite literally despicable (much like disgustingly filthy sand mixed with rotting, smelly refuse – decaying life and organic food scraps rejected and discarded from last night’s meal).

This seed, this idea, is inseminated into the stench of the dirt and some of it takes root and flourishes.  Not all of it, mind you, only some of it.  Most is trampled under foot by men or rejected – even stolen by birds or simply falls in strange, inhospitable  places.  But this is part of the calculated risk – no problem!

 

Well, it happened.  The seed was sown.  And yes, it was messy.

And the life it lives, it lives from the ground up, from the earth.  From out of the stinky dirt it breaks out.

The ‘DNA’ of the seed is pre-determined, it needs no teacher, no supervisor, no controller and it doesn’t listen to the dirt around it.  In fact when interference from such overseeing, meddling intruders comes along it only serves to block the flow and the natural growth processes.

These weeds block out the sun and drink all the water up, preventing the already dirty, smelly soil around them from decaying and thereby forming a conducive solution with the water to be absorbed and transformed into fuel for abundant life.

 

It’s these weeds which are the problem mostly.  These weeds see things only from their own conceited perspectives.   They, being aliens and hired hands, know only how to choke and even scorch the earth around them, poisoning it with their very presence so that they and they alone can thrive and that at the expense of the life around them.  These weeds are in direct opposition to the seed and the sower of the seed (although they masquerade as friends and helpers and caregivers).  These weeds make themselves look pretty and cover themselves with colourful coats.  But these only hide the toxic intend that lurks beneath the extravagant linings.  You see, pigs dressed in velvet are still pigs.

But the growing seeds also need to take responsibility and rise up.  They need to stretch upwards and reach out for the sun.  They need to respond to the voice of the DNA inside of them and not listen to the voices of the weeds who tell them what to think about themselves, what to do, how to do it, and why.  The voices that confuse them, saying that they are only there to make the weeds look good.

The seeds need to become decisive, even opinionated about the life they see and feel cascading out of their veins bursting out of every pore on them.  They need to open their own petals and make room for the voice of their own DNA – the sower of the seed – to fill the air with the fragrance of life and abundance.

So now it turns out that what the clever religious ones have done is that they have developed God’s idea by redesigning the condescension into a religious, socio-political structure where the equally dirty can rise to a position of superiority above the other dirties.  This conveniently affords them the inalienable right, they tell us, to tell the other dirties how to get clean.  However, the only way they can do this is not by also following the ways of the sower by going down below and beating dirt from the bottom of the sand pit.  They do it by magic.  They get a scientific qualification, frame it, and hang it on their wall.  The title on the wall reads in extravagant, bold calligraphy, “QUALIFIED PASTOR” and they usually roll this up when leaving their study – sort of in a rolled up form of a common magicians wand.  They step out boldly, flapping and swishing it about like a frenzied conjurer looking much like Don Quixote’s windmills.  “In Jesus’ Name!!” they cry aloud!

This magical “alakazam!” they believe, bewitchingly entitles them to speak with an authority over the rest and hold onto centre stage and the all-powerful podium.   That ultimate qualifier of all things spiritual in their religious economy.  Not anybody is allowed to take hold of the bewitching podium, mind you.  In fact this magical space is reserved exclusively for the physically qualified elite and only those whom they deem worthy to speak over the dirt, and about the dirt on the dirty.

Sadly we have believed it as well mostly.

 

However, the whole idea that God had in the first place was that the dirty seeds would discover that from the inside they have been, and are being cleaned and transformed and that the dirt around them, as smelly and putrid as it is, is actually the intended seedbed that they were always meant to be rising up out of.  That they are seeds with a vibrant variety within them, that they are planted to display this according to the sowers unique DNA within each individual seed, until they all together make up an explosive, radiant, vibrant, aroma-filled jungle of life and staggering beauty.  That each voice, fragrance, blaze of colour be heard, felt, seen, smelt.  That the sound and presence of the toxic weeds is irrelevant, pitiful, fit only to be rejected and flung into the fire.  That the seeds would grow up and displace the weeds and cause them to naturally choke in their own vomit.

 

And now, now it is time.  It is time for the seeds to realise that this all was intended to  cause the dry, rotten bones, once merged with the disgustingly smelly and offensive soil, to begin vibrating and quivering and begin to clatter and clang together again, and for the decayed sinews and flesh once long dead, to mysteriously start coming together and twang and snap back together almost elastically, causing the whole body to rise up, take form and start moving, walking, running, even dancing.

 

Man alive!! … this will top and overshadow any Stephen King horror movie scene.

 

So, will those standing please take a stand!!

 

 

the brook bubbles once again

I am coming face to face with my inner self once again.  I don’t know about you, but in me there is a voice that speaks deep inside that is never harsh nor loud but decidedly persistent and even in the tempestuous noise of my everyday life the voice never ceases.  I sometimes allow my world to drown it out but it seems to quietly await another opportune time and simply repeats itself again and again until I begin to pay attention.

I once heard an expression, “the inarticulate speech of the heart” and for me, this is what it is.

It’s also very much like the voice of a strong, yet soft spoken, internal shepherd who stands significantly higher than my short little legs carry me and who can easily see what the far off terrain out there holds.  But for me all I can see is a very small parochial few feet in front of my nose (which is often frustratingly attached and very close to the rear end of the smelly, unwashed sheep just in front of me).

Circumstance in the form of people and related monies lost and now owed is presenting a somewhat vulgar scenario to me at present and the old fighter in me wants to leap over the ropes in one smooth action, bound over to the opposite corner and pound the living crap out of the blind, ignorant upstart who is daring to spit out threats and aggro statements way above his own intelligence level or ability to substantiate.  Yet even as the blood gushes through and pumps up the veins in my neck I seem to hear that voice again.  It is 4 a.m. and I am up and wide awake and this time it seems to be saying, “that’s you you can see in that person … can you see yourself?”

I am painted into a corner and instead of wet paint all around I see mirrors, many mirrors all reflecting so many unsightly and embarrassing angles on my life.  Angles quite frankly that I would rather not see.

The misty shepherds voice inside  tells me that in compassion extended I will find my own peace.  And amazingly, this time I am able to hear.

Often I do not.  In fact, it can take years.

Perhaps it’s because we live in a fast food type of immediate gratification, data overload world?  I don’t really know, but this for me is usually a somewhat unscientific process of conclusion but a deep seated one that speaks in a language still to be better understood inside of us.  Our modern mindset will not easily settle for any data other than that which is immediately seen, clearly measurable, even alpha-numerically coded and instantly logical and clear.  Our shelves are filled with easy answer, quick steps books that promise instant results immediately and the reasons for everything are laid out as logical, clear and easily accessible.

We may as well drink ant poison.

The ancient writings say “deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls…. ”  What I have gradually come to realise for myself is that the roar of the waterfall is never initially very clear nor articulate, but it speaks nonetheless. It sort of wears away at the hard rock of our resistance and silently but surely cuts through its own path, slowly changing the sound and shape of the rock over time and patient observation.  For those who really desire enlightenment and are prepared to wait for it patiently and to retrace the ancient paths it will become more and more clear.  As unscientific as it really seems to be in appearance, over time and careful attention it too can build up data into a patterned form of empirical evidence able to be interpreted by those who will indeed take the time to allow the words to clarify themselves for our dull and clumsy conscious minds, settle into degrees of truth and eventually, the penny finally drops.  And usually it’s me who is the last one to know that a degree of enlightenment has come.  More often than not someone else will comment on the progress they see in me and I am flummoxed.  Maybe that’s what they mean by being “surprised by grace?”
” …. in compassion extended I will find my own peace” … it rolls so elegantly off the tongue, but now it must settle at the bottom of the waterfall in some hidden brook and bubble up into truth revealed.

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“It’s just not fair!” …. . . . . . or is it?

“It’s just not fair!” – I hear this often. I hear others say it. I hear myself say it. I feel it. I feel myself feeling it. I see the situations of others, their suffering, and I think it for them. I think it about them, on their behalf. Sometimes I rage and seethe inside as I see some alleged oppressor seeming to triumph over some apparent victim. But is this not fair? Dare I even suggest this as a remote possibility?

Sometimes to hear someone say, “It’s fair!” is painful to my ears, almost offensive. Especially in the times we live in. If a person is apparently advantaged at the point of saying this it can easily seem arrogant and vulgar, conceited, even violent. If in calamity or suffering we hear someone say, “It’s fair!” our thoughts can easily tip towards thinking that that person is depressed, manic, or unnecessarily negative, especially about themselves.

For me fairness is a difficult thing to come to terms with. There’s so much happening all around us, so much suffering, so much apparently obvious unfairness. For one to say things are fair to me almost appears extremely insensitive, unfeeling, wilfully blind, even cruel.

I must confess that I have mostly avoided speaking of this. It’s too sensitive a topic. The issue of fairness brings up all manner of turbulent emotions in me. I am often overwhelmed by just thinking about thinking of it, let alone dealing with it.

However, I feel that there are some things we do need to tackle about this issue. There are some questions we do need to ask and perhaps not of others but of ourselves. There are some things we need to take into account and at least for me, none of these are easy.

One of the big and troubling issues for me is that perhaps we need to see our perspective in terms of the greater context we are in as best we can. I don’t claim to have it all sorted out in my life, but it is of major significance to me and it just doesn’t seem to go away.

As I see it (at least for now), everything we have around us from the universe, the earth, the economy, our country, global warming, conflict, ourselves, even our deepest opinions have all taken a very long time to get to where they are right now. Often we are taken by surprise when things happen locally and/or globally. But if we take a step back perhaps we need to acknowledge that we really don’t see totally new and unique things suddenly bursting out of nothing or out of nowhere. There is no real evidence to even suggest that new things are being ‘created’ out of nothing all the time or even at any time.

When we analyse things they often make sense in hindsight and we often wish we’d seen it more clearly before it happened. We do not see things very clearly from our perspective so it’s no wonder we are caught by surprise so often.

From our point of view it sometimes seems that things happen suddenly and out of nowhere but that is often because we can only see what’s in front of us and even then we don’t nearly see it all. To add to this limitation of perspective often the emotions or even wonder of the moment prevent us from shaking off subjectivity.

I think that we need to consider the possibility that it might be more reasonable to say that things happen because other things happened before them and still other things before that … . and so on. The universe around us seems to scream this out. As far back as we can imagine it seems logical that something happened and over vast expanses of time other things happened as a result of what had happened and this has resulted in what and where we are right now. Very little seems to have happened suddenly and out of the blue (or darkness) except for the very beginning which we can only speculate was quite explosive and instantaneous …. but only because we have no idea what happened even a trillionth of a nanosecond before whatever happened actually happened.

Suddenly’s therefore seem to be merely an illusion. Sometimes the things that contribute to a ‘suddenly’ event are so small that it takes a vast number of smalls to make a suddenly. Usually the build-up of the vast number of smalls can take extremely long and sometimes not so extremely long. Sometimes the suddenly seems so huge because an immense amount of smalls gathered substantial momentum and the suddenly was only the aftermath of the ‘tipping point’ that was reached.

Things may seem random or chaotic some of the time, and maybe even all the time because we often are not able to see the whole picture. But they are all as a result of a whole string of events leading up to it. All these apparently random and chaotic events are huge clusters of smalls working towards a state of ‘release,’ balance or equilibrium. At any given point it may seem totally inexplicable, but over time history always points to the present and the present points towards the future. The present also points towards the past. Our ability to reason and learn from history helps us to make sense of the events leading up to a suddenly but this is almost exclusively in hindsight.

As difficult as it is for me to come to terms with it also seems apparent to me that everything is therefore balanced or at least it is in a state of transition towards balance which to us may very well appear like turmoil until it reaches a state of balance (and even that can feel very much like turmoil).

In hindsight it all seems fair to me. It all seems in time, in order, and in process towards …. balance?

If we can agree with any of the logic of this can we apply it to ourselves and to the events that cause us such confusion, turbulence, pain? or joy? or frustration? loss, devastation? peace? … . . balance?

Is it possible therefore that as emotive as our situations and circumstances may be it is all indeed consistent, just … . . fair?

What of our pain? despair? suffering? triumph? success? …. . .

Some believe God is just. Some reject, even hate God or the concept of God because of the rampant injustice apparent in our world.

Is this fair?

Is all of this unfair?

Maybe it is neither … . .

perhaps it just is

____________________________________

the phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid.

Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno’t mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.

Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghouht taht the crorcet wrdos and slpeling was ipmorantt!

I read this in an email some time ago and what first struck me was just how our brain seems to be wired to search for understanding. It seemed to me that we make patterns of our world and store these in our mind and each new stimulus is evaluated by these patterns as we go. This seems to be done effortlessly and almost exclusively subconsciously. I think perhaps that this is neither good nor bad – it just happens that way. However, this seems to be  the way we are, the way we are wired.

A whole lot of questions came to mind for me:

How does this phenomenon effect our belief systems?

When we see something about God do we see what we actually see or do we see the preconceived pattern of what we have developed of an understanding of God? In other words, do we develop patterns of understanding about faith related issues according to what we have been taught or heard, and then every time the subject or related issues come up we simply scan for the first and last letters of the issue so to speak and fill the rest in?

This is true not only of issues of faith but of our assimilation and processing of scientific data as well – after all empirical scientists are human as well are they not?

Do we approach God openly and honestly or according to how God makes sense to us personally?

To what extent have we created God and the world we perceive around us according to our image?

Is what we see as ‘truth’ really objective?

How would we help ourselves to see things more accurately? Is this even possible?

… even God surely could not possibly be upset by such a delightful, innocent, tale?

At lunch my 12 year old daughter let loose a ripping burp and sat there in the afterglow with a Cheshire Cat grin on her face. Once the cutlery and crockery had stopped rattling my wife said, “That is not beautiful, young lady!”

Now my wife may or may not have had a valid point at that moment but there was and is a time for a young lady to burp robustly. In fact, I can clearly recall just after a regular feed on the breast as a newborn we would not only allow a belch of such magnitude from our daughter, but would celebrate it enthusiastically. Colic relief is always beautiful at that tender age.

So who and what made the change? It wasn’t our children’s idea as burping was often immediate relief for them. Why would they change? However, they soon learned about our so-called sense of sensibilities and at some mystical point the celebrated ritual comes to an end as pressure is increasingly exerted on the poor child to stop what was once heralded as a tremendous achievement and is replaced with the custom of participating in something substantially more suppressed. It seems that eventually the need for socially appropriate, conservative behaviour dominates and the once essential, healing, practice is no longer acceptable. No wonder we are all totally confused and messed up as we get to adulthood!

I also recall how celebrated fantastic stories were when heard from the mouths of young children. It would be delightful for even the most conservative of mature folk to hear a rampant, youthful yarn of clearly fanciful extrapolation about life and its meaning, even about deep and sacred things like God, even money. Most would encourage the young philosophers, spurring them on to explore even more delightfully crazy expressions all the while chuckling heartily and not feeling in the slightest uncomfortable. When some did feel perhaps just a little bit uneasy and would appear to perhaps take it a bit too seriously many around would freely suggest that such a delightful tale could surely do no harm. “Leave the child alone,” some would say, “let them explore their world!”

We are born at quite a pace but we also start dying very quickly. Not only physically, mind you. All too suddenly we seem to grown up and then these things are apparently no longer acceptable. Sometimes the harsh heat of full summer is never nearly so stifling as the formality of life. No wonder we are all totally confused and messed up as adults.

We live in a very tender age where the publishing of books and the journaling of all kinds of discovery is rampant. Many are traveling to all areas of existence in the quest for understanding. Knowledge is increasing and it is a reality that there are more new discoveries in our day than ever before in recorded history. And the growth curve is exponential. Yet as we experience this galactic data tsunami we seem only to find more and more unanswered questions.

Are we possibly looking in the wrong places?

Or are we looking in the right places but unable to see because of social convention and cultural appropriateness? Could our sense of sensibility be far less sensible than we are willing to admit?

A definition of insanity that has impacted me of late is this: Stupidity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

Now clearly there is a time and a place for everything. But maybe,  ….. just maybe this is the time for free, culturally unlocked, childlike creativity and bold exploration especially in the matters of spirituality and the pursuit of meaning and truth.

…..  even God surely could not possibly be upset by such a delightful, innocent, tale?

a barbarous fail!!

I looked up the definition of civilized online at The Free Dictionary (http://www.thefreedictionary.com/civilized) and this is what it says – civilized, adj.

1. Having a highly developed society and culture.

2. Showing evidence of moral and intellectual advancement; humane, ethical, and reasonable: “terrorist acts that shocked the civilized world.”

3. Marked by refinement in taste and manners; cultured; polished.

In the light of the current social, global economic and political scenario’s I was thinking about just how we got to where we are right at this moment.

Now I’m not in any way an expert or a professional economist but I don’t owe the bank or anyone else anything and I can somehow manage to feed and clothe my family from day to day without stealing. Nor am I a qualified historian but like the fool on the hill, I see the sun going down and the eyes in my head see the world spinning round *  …. and I also don’t need to pull sleazy, cheap shots to attempt to legally gag any web journalist who reads my blog postings or personal correspondence for simply publishing what I actually say and do.

But as I read through the 3 definitive explanations of the word civilized I can’t help thinking that the west can only honestly say that we only partly align to the definition of a civilized status in the first category and then only scraping through based purely on the possible interpretations of the concept “highly developed” culture. Let’s face it, most of our highly advanced development over the last few hundred years has really only achieved the present pinnacle of existence on which we now so boldly teeter.

I’d give us a 20% mark at best (and only because I’m such a nice, positive person).

And isn’t it amazing that we tend to regard the rest of the world as uncivilized even though in such a relatively short time we’ve virtually almost destroyed our planet, terrorized sovereign nations, violated human rights hand over fist, degraded ethical and moral standards globally, legalized robbery, made an acceptable art form out of lying, stripped the planet of vast amounts of it’s natural resources, and yet some of the ‘super powers’ we regard as uncivilized and undeveloped ruled and flourished for sometimes thousands of years a very long time ago? Some of them still even exist today (but trust me on this, we are rectifying this quite effectively even as we speak).

And if we are so supremely successful in this debacle what might it say of our spiritual standards?

But let’s not take this all too seriously, after all, it’s the weekend soon.

* The Beatles – “The Fool On The Hill,” http://www.lyricsondemand.com/b/beatleslyrics/foolonthehilllyrics.html

God does not speak English

History is filled with nations colonizing other nations. Conquest is almost an historical given. Villages invading villages, clans invading clans, nations invading nations, laying siege to bounty, conquering and pillaging. And the spoils, …. power, wealth, land, riches, natural resources, technology, culture.

It’s all fairly logical really; as one grows and expands there seems to be no way to stop it. One group outgrows itself and needs more resources so it stretches its borders to accommodate this or they simply get crazy and desire to be all powerful.

Like it or not conquest seems to be a part of our essential makeup. It’s been of late a much more subtle endeavour, but colonialism has reached epic proportions over the last few hundred years. Colonialism is more or less an act of invading and subjugating other lands and if necessary, the people living there. For reasons of need or greed or merely insane megalomania this delightful little practice is very much with us today even in our ever so educated, sophisticated and technologically advance world. Conquering states either destroy other nations or put them under pressure to conform to theirs or some specific way of life that suits them. The dominant aggressor pressurizes the weaker to essentially submit to their own value systems whatever these may be. The conquering invader extracts the bounty of the new conquest, exploiting it for themselves, often hauling it away. Usually this is done with little or no regard for the defeated and now plundered natives. These days it is cloaked in politically correct terms like ‘foreign policy,’ ‘democracy,’ freedom of speech, etc. If the natives are not utterly destroyed they are usually stripped of their culture and their sovereign dignity. These days the stripping is very cleverly and subtly applied (just reflect on the pervasive, globally saturating western culture and capitalism and of course democracy and you should get a fairly clear picture).

It is my view that in this present time we are doing the same to and with God. We in the church might not be all that bright, but we can see a good thing when it comes around.

There is tribalism based conflict and clan faction fighting everywhere in the church and we even run our systems like a military machine with generals and storm troops, intelligence agencies, and of course, the expendable infantry or ‘foot-soldiers’ …. but I digress, that is for another blog (so watch this space folks!!!!).

On perhaps a slightly more lateral angle I want to suggest that we have, whether wittingly or unwittingly, started defining God by our own symbols, by our own meaning, and ascribing values to him that are essentially our own. To my mind this is very much like a  subtle form of colonialism. Having begun as a noble species created in the image of God, we have returned the favour and subtly started creating God in our own image.

Let me try to explain what I mean….

A quick glance over church history reveals how trends and culture shifts in the way we practice our religion as well as what and how we proclaim the truth (all the while declaring passionately that ‘truth’ is absolute and immutable). However, these shifts are clearly evident. (As a humourous side note:  in the 1980’s we used to chuckle about the way that the sounds of the languages of “speaking in tongues” was specific to the age of the speaker. We felt that we could even predict when that person had their ‘encounter’ in this regard).

It does not take too much digging to see just how closely these shifts in theology and methodology are linked to the conditions in the world at the time. If there is a prevalent need in the time our views of God seem to amazingly shift to accommodate us so that God can meet our needs. (This may not seem like so bad a thing, but its effects are deep and extremely long lasting). It’s pressure and pain that is most often the mother of invention, but that sort of creativity can go almost any way, good or bad.

Now we do believe that God is constant and we base this view on scriptural texts that state that God is the same “yesterday, today and forever,” yet the religious trends and shifts are clear in history. So, who changed? It couldn’t be God, could it? If so, we would need to at least be honest and admit this, which we can’t.

We can’t see ourselves changing so we’re not being intentionally deviant and much like the proverbial frog in slow boiling water we don’t see the change coming at all until it’s usually too late. Yet every ‘season’ of theology has its own set of generals who believe emphatically that they are correct and prophetically mandated, able, confident and obedient ambassadors of God in all truth. This too may not seem all that important or even bad, but it has caused so much pain, trauma, division and even destruction in the lives of so many.

I started off by saying that God does not speak English. Well, God is aligned to no language actually. God is in us and with us, but he is for himself. Yes, he extends himself towards us with unimaginable grace, but he does not compromise who he is to make us feel better. I’m sorry to inform you that God is not here to meet your every need as the evangelists told us all those years ago. You see, God does not change, we do. God’s perspective does not change, yes, you guessed it, but ours does. And lastly, God’s ‘word’ does not change, but sadly, ours does.

The reality is that language changes. It changes all the time. We need to be aware of this because we use language to define our world and even more so as we advance so rapidly as a species, especially in the arena of technological development. And let’s face it, change is not only here to stay, but change is increasing exponentially all the time. Change is virtually the only constant we have these days.

Language is as much a casualty of this change as anything else. We also use this same changing language to understand God so it is not surprising that we find that we tend to attempt to stabilize ourselves by digging in to some form of understanding that leaves us inevitably well behind the pace of reality. We also use this ever changing language to communicate with each other about God, life and meaning.

Language is merely an attempt at putting agreed upon symbols down in understandable form to represent a perceived reality that provokes a need for understanding and definition . It is when the reality (or ‘truth’) becomes subservient to the symbols originally created to define or understand it that we experience real problems, and in my opinion even violation. This is true for the sciences and humanities as well as for our understanding and communication of God.

When we even unwittingly place the cart before the horse in this manner we can lock God into a humanly defined, textual prison. At the end of the day we suffer the consequences ourselves. The rise of fundamentalism in all religions is an example of this. Unwittingly we end up making God speak our way, according to our own language. God begins to act like we do, feel like we do, think like we do. When we are attacked, God is attacked. When we strike our enemies back, God is striking our enemies back. If we justify our actions, God justifies our actions. God becomes like one of us. He even looks like us. He even speaks English.

In all of this we tend to start defining the infinite by our limited, finite perspectives. In froggy land no one does things on purpose, things just happen. In froggy land the temperature remains constant.

My concern is that those of us who so sincerely desire to honour and love God for everything that God is could be breaking down the relationship and banishing ourselves to dark little boxes without lids, peep holes, or clean, fresh air to breath.

So, sorry folks, God does not speak English, we do (unless of course, you don’t speak English, but then how on earth are you reading and understanding this?)

why is it?

why is it that so many rush on and in, apparently without a care for anything whilst others tread carefully and get crushed?
why do the careless succeed and the careful stumble whilst those without a thought for the thoughtful appear to remain buoyant and exalted?

….. and then there are those who diligently choose with care only to get trampled underfoot by those who don’t.

what good is wisdom in this life? Of what value is being mindful of the meaning of things? It seems only to bring trouble.

to seek out the origin of a matter is as futile as searching out the conclusion. There is no answer until we get there and then it appears that it may well be too late to change our mind. one thing we do know is that we all will come to an end and though we believe this way or that we all choose to believe what we believe. There are no unbelievers, merely those who choose to and those who choose not believe that they are living by faith. however, most choose not to think about it too much at all. perhaps they are the wiser?

we will never know until believing itself comes to an end and faith is of no more use than the air that eventually will serve us no more and what will we breathe then?

but here I stand.

though it causes me much pain I cannot help but choose to believe that there must be more than the nothing we persistently claim to be everything

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Plutonic Platonianism

Plato argued that concepts such as justice, beauty, good, virtue, etc. are similar to mathematical proofs and can be argued and understood by using elementary deductive logic. His view was that they existed as truth forms, independent and external to the tangible, material world we find ourselves in.

Is this possible? Can we separate our understanding of phenomena from the natural world around us as we perceive it? To do so would we not need to line up to a sort of dualism that distinguishes the ‘natural’ from the ‘spiritual’ worlds?

These days my thinking is more in alignment with a view that the ‘supernatural’ is in reality only the ‘natural’ world not fully understood. Or in the case of religious institutions and orders, the natural world mostly misunderstood.

Perhaps the belief in an independent supernatural world or realm that exists mysteriously inside and around but not clearly and articulately tangible to the natural realm is merely a construct of convenience necessitated to offset the futility and frustration we are shrouded with in this world we live in? we who hold this as a dominant view tend to scoff at scientific approaches to the same issues.

On the other hand, a focus on the pursuit of reason and an empirical, scientific world view could equally be a construct of convenience that faithfully labours on, driven by a basic need for control and autonomy in the very same world of futility and frustration. This is often accompanied by severe effort to quell the emotive, intuitive side that raises its inconvenient presence so frequently.

Both sides claim to be free thinking but we all speak from behind the packed lids of cardboard boxes. When the rain falls on all of us we tend get inexplicably soggy and discomforted. As good as rain is the reality is that the sun also shines and if we both venture out we might escape the musty smell we both have redefined as incense to the gods of our own construction.