[accidents like this]

A human poem about Christ

2012-01-15T11:32:00.002+10:00

For Good Friday 2011, I was asked to write a poem about the human face of Christ suffering on the cross. I was really inspired by this theme, and this one just fell out of me that evening. I presented it at an Easter service--I imagine it was sombre, but I think it worked. I was pleased with how the human pieces played out in the poem.

I Thirst

A cross.
I can't even think.
I see faces, and feel... feel... I can't feel.
A cross, a bloody horror. I can't even think.
A wind whistles through my drained body, singing my demise,
stinging my eyes,
it mocks my cries, now ended, now depleted.
I can't even think.
A cross. A God-awful place, forsaken, broken, and alone.
I thirst.

I see faces, faces contorting
My mother inconsolable
My John, my friend, my good friend John
Other faces taunting
Others stony
Others lost
I need rest, I must rest soon
I thirst.

This day was always coming
And the next is far better
I knew it well, I know it ...some
I must hang on and let it come
I... what was I thinking just now?
I can't feel
I can't even think
I thirst.

I drip, my hair whips my face
I'm tired
There's no life here
In this place
A cross unending
Unbending
I break.

I thirst.

Fresher Faces

2010-07-30T07:24:00.001+10:00

For my darling Ivana

A beautiful truth hangs between us
Transcending reason
And in our revolving, we turn toward
A truer season

Watching the sky break
Its early morning,
Huddled together, we shake at the cold

And shake it off.

Watching the fingers of the day
Light us, and reflect
Greater forces between us,

We walk with fresher faces
Each warming the other
By our presence.

© 2004

Persons

2010-07-30T07:20:00.001+10:00

We creatures, creatures all
given to the hope of selfhood
by the majesty instilled in us
Reflections of the source.
The personhood created us
Reflecting selfness
That we might be images
With substance.

© 1996

Saltwater

2010-07-30T07:19:00.001+10:00

Cry into my eyes
And let your salt sting me
The tender sweet wine
Of shared sorrow

And feel in my saltwater
The emptied pitcher
The empty picture
Of a free tomorrow.

© 2001

The Honest Place of Secrets

2010-07-30T07:18:00.001+10:00

There's a still place, where air and water meet
Where breath and flesh draw close,
And soul's secrets rest untold

The place of quiet, and unbroken solitude
Where a person is, and is nothing else
And soul's secrets rest safe

And here, there is fire and loneliness
Peace and emptyness, fullness of space
And soul's secrets drift unwanting

And in the honest place of secrets
A tongue never waves.

© 2001

Fishing Through Fragments

2010-07-30T07:16:00.002+10:00

I saw a man

Fishing through a bin

Like I'd never been

Doing the same thing

Fishing through fragments

For a life

I like.

© 2001

Blue Somethings

2010-07-30T07:16:00.001+10:00

Wake up and run!

Shout blue somethings and fight the air,

Because today you woke up free.

Reborn.

© 1998

Green

2010-07-30T07:15:00.001+10:00

In shedding suburbs, I see green

Gum trees on dry ground, not rich, not lush

Not a postcard.

But inwardly I unwind

And the rising full dusk moon gives echo to my sigh.

I hear a creator

Speaking.

© 2001

Uncautious

2010-07-29T09:11:00.001+10:00

[a repentance from mindless dogma]

I used to say a person
went off the rails.

As if life were about rails.

I used to say a person
lost the plot.

As if life were about a plot.

A blinkered slave worker,
swinging my hammer and driving the spikes
and singin' mah spirit-chuls,
it was me laying the rails.

Across the plots of others.

© 2002

The Nostalgia Poem

2008-08-10T18:13:00.001+10:00

Magic.
What an illusion. It's my favourite one, at least for now.
Midnight Oil and New Order still play on the radio, but it's not the same.
People again wear the clothes, but it's not the same.
I still see Steve Strange and Midge Ure on YouTube, but there's been a passing.
What has gone, well, it has a name.
Magic.

And we all carry it. Or carried it.
Folly is bound in the heart of a child;
Enchantment is bound in the heart of a youth.
Looking back is sweet, but the question burns:
What, if anything, may be rekindled,
And how did we let life pound it out of us?

I don't want what those days precipitated
And they weren't better days
They were just ours
hours
yours, and mine

We really were great, you and me
I loved to dance with you
my illusion, my sweet sweet substance
the world surrounding me, the world in my head
totally the same to me,
different in reality
and this is the learning
the growth
the grinding
the becoming
the leaving

The seeing.

Ah, but it was a sweet illusion, the magic.
I used to love to dance with you.
Have you left forever, and,
If you knocked on my door,
Would I take photos and tell my kids
or invite you in for another soiree of colourful illusion?

To see or to see the other.
Illusion; that which isn't.
Is it really not? Say it isn't so, at least for now,
And let's dance. Twirl with me, and let's forget.
And remember.

Magic.
What an illusion.
What magic.
I used to love to dance with you.

We're interesting beings, I think.

2007-12-18T11:17:00.000+10:00

We reach for imagined places
Emotional spaces
That exist not in brick and steel
But in other truth from that

We collect together around our fires
Our similar quests for expanses of life
In the irrational real
The wonder of yearnings collected

We are drawn together
Not by lives, lifestyles or ideas
But by common reaching for the non-existent
By sharing our dreams
Our homes
Our tears

Coffee is our mortar
And our bricks are open sky
As we dream together
Of flying into purpose and freedom

Emotional spaces collect us
Imagined places cause us to see
One another, and find us
Imagining life
Together.

Ever have days like this?

2007-12-07T15:09:00.000+10:00

Shut down.
A wall.
Stop.
Monosyllabic mucus covers my eyes
Blind to the stench that surrounds, blind to the colour
Blind, surviving, blind, sleeping
Unimpressed
Unimpressable
Unimpressionable

It's a still place
And perhaps not
the place of death
beheld by eyes that don't look here
Eyes that have no vocabulary
To describe this space.
This un.

Perhaps this is where it all begins again
And perhaps not; perhaps it never began at all
And we just pretended it did
And danced to a tune played on a paper harp
And sang and shouted to a parade of dust and shells
Lauded a process where joy was derived
From a construct, a society without direction
A stagnant pond
A dying frond
A vacant stare at a subject on the horizon
Which never takes form
...but which has great music.

Perhaps the people who come here
Are those from whom it truly will begin again.
Perhaps this place is where the seeds should be sown
Of repulsion, intolerance, unacceptance, fury.
Of revolution.

Perhaps destruction is the greatest hope of all.
Where we dream of a world with essence
To reinforce the fanfare
But destruction is itself a construct
And far too much work
And far too far to walk for the ragged.
It's too far gone.

Shut down.
A wall.
Stop.

Howie!

2007-09-08T09:58:00.000+10:00

Well, this is cool. Early this year, 80's-synthpop-legend Howard Jones performed in Brisbane. Now, for those who don't know him, Howard's not just your average I-got-famous-for-my-hair kinda guy--he's a standout songwriter, and has reinvented his sound beautifully into the new millennium--his Revolutions of the Heart album is an awesome job. And when we saw him, it was a two-piece band--him on piano and a brilliant guitarist--and he carried the whole thing off superbly. A true performer. Anyway, all of that said, I took my 1985 Roland Juno-106 synthesizer (classic keyboard) along for him to autograph.

The extra cool thing: someone got it on video, and posted it on YouTube! I'm not in shot, but the voice at the start telling him to sign the Juno "as big as you like" is mine. I'm a little chuffed! Thought it was worth mentioning. Here's the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2JD4QQmGwvw&mode=related&search=

:)

The Suburban Life

2007-08-20T09:12:00.000+10:00

Well, I feel like a true home owner now that I've bought a lawn mower. I found a good one on ebay and snagged it for a hundred bucks. It just involved a trip from Mansfield to Burpengary to pick it up. Which is fine, I guess, except for the 3 car pile-up that turned the Gateway Arterial into the running of the snails...

So, half an hour later than anticipated, I arrived in Burpengary to pick up the Victa. Nice place--semi rural, very quiet. The seller was a nice bloke, a sparky who works for Energex. I got him to start the mower up, and we ran it for a bit. We then hoisted it into our Mazda 3 for the cross-town trip.

I must admit, though, I had no idea of what was coming next. The Chroming.

Driving along with my windows up due to the rain (Yes! Rain! At last.), I got intimately involved with the fuel and exhaust Victa coctail. A sweet suburban smell. And wait--what was that I saw out of the corner of my eye? No, it was nothing.

The cars in front of me were going dreamily slow, and their consistency seemed softer, somehow. Almost like I could tap them with my own Mazda shaped sponge and spring away again. What was that object in my perhipheral vision? I'm sure it had tentacles.

And then it came, crawling across the motorway like a blanket of pink polyps. It took me a while to determine the nature of this invasion, and even how the cars in front of me managed to avoid it. Skill, I guess. More tentacles. Octopuses? Octopi? Octopotami? Pink slime with suction caps.

As the car kept driving itself, I was able to lean out the window for a closer look, reaching down to the road that was zipping past at 78 spongebobs per squarepants. Scooping up a mass of pink, I found that it didn't detach from the collective, but was somehow drawing me into it. There was friendship and warmth there. I was becoming one with the slime, and it was a sweet thing.

I let my Mazda swab itself to our house with the mower and left for my new home.

Huh? Wha...? Windows! I wound down the windows and got some oxygen.

That was a close one! ;-)

New Reasons (poem)

2007-08-02T13:01:00.000+10:00

Well, I just wrote something that will probably find its way to www.chuvv.com, but I thought I'd put it here as well. What can I say? I get a little melancholy sometimes, and think about the past. Here's a poem called New Reasons, about what I guess is ultimately the getting of wisdom. I just wish others didn't have to pay the price for my tuition.

Drew

New Reasons

Stumbling through blindness
I learned to walk and see
And in sweet sadness saw
What I'd left behind me

Not a perfect trail
In fact, quite the opposite
And in my sight I find
Curious cause to revisit

And amongst my various successes
I find new reasons to mourn
Not just to cast off and continue
But to pay homage to souls I've hurt
To lives who've similarly moved on

If all earthly resources were mine
And I could even move heaven
I would turn it all backwards for a time
To a time where I could bestow upon myself
Eyes. Feet. Wisdom for the avoiding.

And yet I can't, and instead find
New sins for the absolving.

And in lives from which I've departed
Where scars are healed and vanished,
I'm but a phantom furnisher of fissures past
And am not missed, but regretted.
These lives die inside me
And yet unjustly steel me to live more

Eyes. Feet. Wisdom for the avoiding.
How might I walk so as not to hurt
And how might I hold precious those souls
Who are inherently more precious
Than my ability to behold?

How does my dissociated heart forget
What miracles surround me?

I need eyes for the miracles
Feet for the journey
Wisdom for the healing.
That I would be perceivably precious.
That I would become not a phantom
But a presence of closed fissures
And a hand to touch you, my friend.

And in these I find new reasons.
A past inescapable
A present sorrowful and sweet
And a future connected.

The Weekend's a-Comin'!

2007-07-27T15:36:00.000+10:00

...and bring it on, I say! Man, these last few weeks have been CRAZY. Let's see, where did it all start. Ah yes, BUYING A HOUSE. Then moving into it, then going to the Hillsong conference in Sydney (can everyone say "church roadtrip"?), then getting sick. Of course. Only human.

But Hillsong was really great. I was so impressed with the heart of the place. It's important to me that a place that has become famous for worship songs, actually wasn't pushing hard on "here are the A-B-C's of leading worship". No, there was a whole lot more passion in there for knowing the person of Jesus, and affecting the world around us. Power to them, and more of that agenda for us all.

This weekend, I think I'll eat quite a bit of chocolate. And roast some lamb. :)

The Wine Poem

2007-06-05T09:06:00.000+10:00

Hey, I wrote a poem about wine a few years back (like, about 10). I guess I could put it on the website, but anyway, for now, I'll put it here...

I like wine
A taste divine
Skins left behind, it ages and mellows
And poured in the skins of us fine fellows
Does nought to beguile the warmth of a smile
So let's sit awhile
And drink.

:)

I love Andrew Mirosch!

2007-05-27T10:50:00.000+10:00

Ivana and I went to Sirromet Winery at Mount Cotton for dinner on her birthday, and I tell you, I think that Andrew Mirosch simply cannot cook a bad meal. Okay, Andrew wasn't exactly there that night, but his underlings are pulling their weight nicely.

It's amazing when a few disparate flavours make something truly succulent! And the whole stack-it-up style of serving is just plain deceptive. My meal was a 2-inch eye fillet (medium rare), a cut which in this case was round, served on top of a small pancake of mushy peas topped with a sweet tomato jam, topped again with a large flat mushroom sporting a bearnaise-y kind of sauce. So, the whole ting was 4-5 inches across, and about 4 inches tall. Doesn't look like much food at all.

But then comes the savouring. Crack a nice bottle of Shiraz, pull the tower of food apart and eat unhurriedly from each pile, and oh my... Such a lovely meal, and such spot-on portion sizes.

Ivana had lovely twice-cooked duckling fillets with sweet red cabbage. A meal fairly close to her Czech heritage, surprisingly enough--that wasn't the plan there. Also delectable.

Dessert was a dip into the sweet sublime, and ...you get the idea. I will just say this though: stewed rhubarb pudding, almond butter and brandy snaps. I'll leave it to your imagination.

If ever you're in Brisbane, set aside a little extra meal money and eat from this guy's menu. Apart from the food and wine, you have the Mount Cotton views to the bay and the ambience of a large exposed-framed restaurant. And wonderful staff (also keen to give you samples of food/wine at the start of your sitting).

You've got to love a place where the dining is way out of the park, and yet the atmosphere is informal and friendly. Such are wineries in general, I guess--very Epicurean places. Romantic, too.

Ivana's Turkish Grandma

2007-03-07T08:57:00.000+10:00

Well, hey, this is shameless wife promotion. What can I say? I really love this pic she did years ago, and just in case there are people who drop in here who don't drop in to chuvv.com, I wanted to blog it. Ivana was in Turkey, and a friend of hers photographed this woman. Ivana then rendered it in charcoal, and it's totally cool. Doesn't this just look like someone's grandma? I could just imagine her 20 grandchildren dropping in on her every weekend for turkish delight and hommus sandwiches. Okay, I know nothing about Turkish food.

Drew

Bunyas

2007-03-06T13:51:00.000+10:00

Ivana and I had a great weekend up at the Bunya Mountains (about 3 and a half hours from here by zoom-zoom Mazda3...). I thought I'd post a couple of pics taken by our friend Luke.
Definitely a beautiful place, and a total cruise. We did a whole lot of nothing--if only all weekends were like that.

Cheers!
Drew

Dead Poets

2007-01-23T08:26:00.000+10:00

Ah yes, The Dead Poets Society - what a film. This morning I was cooling off after a walk, and my mind drifted off to it. So I grabbed the DVD and watched bits of it - mostly the Robin Williams classroom scenes. You know, stopping well before Robert Sean Leonard kills himself and the movie moves from Peter Weir broodiness into an ouch-fest.

Good film though - the stand out line for me is from Thoreau, "Two roads diverged in the forest, and I, I took the road less travelled, and that has made all the difference."

Relevant, I think. Sometimes, you can tend to measure how things have ended up for you, based upon how well your life has conformed to the norm. And even, dare I say it, to regret the deviations. So, it's helpful to be reminded sometimes that the deviations actually *are* the stuff of life.

Anyway, a good thought to muse on.

Drew

Consumed

2007-01-16T15:46:00.000+10:00

Well, the last 72 hours have been full of work for me - deadlines are always a fun thing. Work can consume life sometimes, which is fine, as long as it doesn't extinguish it.

You know, I was given a chili plant about a year ago, and we planted it in a part of the garden that must have no nutrients whatsoever. It struggled, nearly died, lurched back to life, and bore absolutely no fruit. This went on for about 10 months. Eventually I moved it. I dug a generous margin around it, and levered it out of the ground to move to its new home - a much more fertile piece of dirt. When I did this, I saw something amazing - it had developed a stupendous root system - very disproportionate to the size of the plant above the soil. Its hard ground caused it to dig wide and deep - all of its energy went into its root system.

Now that I've moved it, it's exploding with growth, and it's shooting some flowers/chilis. This more than ample root system, developed during hardship, is causing a surge of growth. From the plant's perspective, I'm sure it's a new era. This is not a temporary surge; it's the shape of things to come.

There are far prettier plants there, but you know, when I'm in the back garden, I just keep looking at this one.

The End of Poverty

2007-01-11T16:29:00.000+10:00

Wow! My hit stats are way down from average - I'm guessing it's because I haven't blogged. Sorry peoples. I think I'll revitalise my blog life a little.

The first thing that comes to mind is a book I'm reading, "The End of Poverty" by Jeffrey Sachs. So far, very educational for a newbie to developmental economics like me. But shaping up well. Just putting a plug in - I'm trying to learn wehat I can about how we can affect the world.

The other night, we were praying at church for countries that come to mind, and I jumped on South Africa, not because it's the most poverty-stricken African country, but because it's the country of my wife's birth, and therefore the country where lots of her friends and rellies live. And it's hurting as it adjusts to its new way of life post-apartheid. Not that apartheid was good - of course not. But it's a difficult time for the residents of RSA, and they're in my thoughts.

Strength to you.
Drew

Sending out some love...

2006-12-14T12:33:00.000+10:00

I'm listening to the Sasha remix of U R the Best Thing by D-Ream, and a strong memory of an old friend came flooding back - Sarah McDougall, with whom I spent many hours dancing and laughing in the mid 90s, and who succumbed to cancer a few years later.

If those witnesses who surround us include friends in the afterlife, I just want her to hear how I love those memories, and miss her. She was something else.

Tricky

2006-11-17T09:11:00.000+10:00

...or I could just be tricky and put it here...

www.makepovertyhistory.com.au

2006-11-15T09:19:00.000+10:00

I just found a website with localised info on how to get involved in the global crisis of our time. [So, sorry to confuse you Sara, the entry I was talking to you about is the next one].

The site is www.makepovertyhistory.com.au, and I've been finding it very helpful with info for Australians about the pursuit of makepovertyhistory's goals.

If you wish to promote the initiative, you can also put a (very stylish) ribbon link on your website (see how it looks on ours at www.chuvv.com).

They don't want our money, just our voices.

Drew

Back from the dark side

2006-11-06T09:49:00.000+10:00

Oh my goodness! (as my wife would say...) It's been ages since I've blogged. I can just imagine dozens, if not hundreds, of people out there lamenting the installation of their RSS feed, rueing its empty inbox everyday. Well, fret no longer people, I'm back from the radio-dark side of the moon. What can I say! Life's a cyclic thing.

So, let me throw out some personal spiritual insights this time around. Being a guy who stands in front of a church congregation now and then with a guitar and an agenda to encourage closeness with God (Okay, okay - they call us "worship leaders"...), I think often about what we do, and why we do it. Given that I think often about it, and I've done it for so long, you'd think I'd have come up with more insights. Ah well... we go with what we've got...

So, here we go - I think there are 3 agendas for us as worshippers. The first one is personal, the other two are as a gathered group (or "corporate"). Remember John 4:23-24? Of course you do, you scholar you - this is the passage where Jesus says that God seeks worshippers (among other things). So, if God sees being a worshipper as that important, what is it about our worship that excites him? Well, my 20c is that, if we treat worship like the Bible presents it, it's very exciting. And in fact, it encompasses everything in our lives. Here we go - three agendas:

1) Romans 12 worship - offer up your very self in everyday life. This is your spiritual act of worship. Get this part right, every day, not just on Sundays. Don't worry - it's not a horrible drudgery to give yourself over - if you've never done it before, it's like giving yourself over to breathing for the first time. Give him your allegiance, devotion and passion.

2) 1 Peter 2 worship - declare his praises. This is good for our psyche, and it helps others know him. Okay, now, this one is corporate - the first one wasn't. A worship leader can't live Romans 12 for you, but he/she can lead a time of 1 Peter 2 declaration.

3) Hebrews 10 worship - draw near to God. This is corporate too, although we don't often think of it that way - but look at the context. It's an encouragement given in the midst of "let's not give up meeting together", "encourage one another", etc. It's a group life context.

I love Hebrews 10, and feel like there is much further I can go as a worship leader, in helping us to do that as a group. I still feel like I'm just beginning, and I've been doing this for about 16 years.

Anyway, that's it for now! Not a lot of practical stuff here, but some stuff I've been thinking about.

Cheers!
Drew

Working Dog and "Zlad!"

2006-09-29T10:11:00.000+10:00

I just have to put a plug in for the guys/girls at Working Dog. I don't know where Australian Comedy would be without them. These guys gave us shows like The Panel, the not-so-comical-but-very-watchable A River Somewhere, Frontline, Thank God You're Here, The Late Show and the D-Generation. They also gave us movies like The Castle and The Dish.

Not only this, but they've given us fictitious (and outrageous!) countries like Molvania, with a travel guide and a website! And on the Molvania website is this gem. I love "Zlad!" - Santo Cilauro's full of surprises.

Without Working Dog, we'd be watching such brainless wonders as ... well, insert your own not-so-invested comedy here.

Drew

Books, uni and blogging

2006-09-24T09:36:00.000+10:00

Ahhh, blogging... it's a fun thing. ...or a distraction from a looming Uni assignment. I have an extension until this Friday, so I guess I'd better start it. 2000 words... and I'd like to get it finished before lunch, so that's 1000 words per hour. Why am I blogging?! Reminds me of a friend who once said, "My house is never cleaner than when an assignment is due." Boy, can I relate.

Well, I've finally finished my Bono book - only took me most of the year. When I read a book that's so piecemeal, I find it hard to just plough from one end to the other. Ah, who'm I kidding -- I find it hard to plough from one end to the other of most books.

My favourite book would have to be 1984 - George Orwell totally nailed it with that one. As one commentator said, Orwell was sick when he wrote this book, and... you'd kind of have to be. Okay, I paraphrased a little (but not much). But yes, dark and brooding, and quite the philosophical work. What is the nature of truth anyway? Is it really just that which is agreed upon by those in power? Who's to prove them wrong?

Anyway, I have much less interesting things to write about now - the nature of education in society. 2000 words of it. I hope I hold up.

Drew

Bono's Glasnost

2006-09-21T07:42:00.000+10:00

I've been reading "Bono on Bono" (a book of interviews between him and a French journo), and last night he was talking about his Glasnost experience, which came around the time of the album Achtung, Baby (circa 1991). For those who know U2's albums, you might appreciate this thought - he said that Achtung, Baby was the sound of four guys cutting down The Joshua Tree. :)

Bono was talking about openness (for those of us who don't speak Russian). Glasnost was Gorbachev's key word for throwing the spotlight on the Soviet Union and labelling as common all sacred cows of Marxist/Leninist/Stalinist (/Brezhnevist?) thought and policy. It was time for the USSR to enter a discussion on its future. Had he known in advance that it didn't have one, I wonder if Gorbachev would have put the word on the table. Anyway, I guess, since Mikhail and Bono are buddies, there's a commonality around this word.

Bono blew the lid off what was previously U2, and conceivably, what was previously his direction and worldview - a bit of glasnost will do that to you. The first time I heard Achtung, Baby, I was dubious. I didn't know what to do with it. The days of plain-faced railing against the stupidity of mankind were past, and The Fly was born. or...er...metamorphosized from The Maggot, I guess.

My glasnost, or openness, came about 3 years after Bono's - my own metamorphosizing from a card-carrying evangelical into, well, a more human human. A number of things influenced this process, but I can't escape the fact that it was a glasnost that had to happen. Often, faith is presented as being all about suppression, and I just don't get that. The world is far too colourful a place, and the world within even more so. How could the world of God be less?

Since The Joshua Tree, I've spent years overseas and been exposed to many modes of human existence. Yes, there are common threads. Yes, there are cosmic differences, even between those who profess the same faith. Still, you can get that diversity walking through the suburbs of Brisbane. Or the pews of a church. I love the ties that bind, but I love possibly even more (at least I'm more fascinated by), the questions that keep us searching.

A couple of years ago I drove to Sydney (about 1000 km) in my Corolla. The whole way down -- and I'm talking with only minor interruptions -- I played what is now my favourite U2 album: Achtung, Baby. It was good for me to remember my glasnost, my initial experience of openness, and how much bigger it made my world.

Drew

A great morning

2006-09-17T16:19:00.000+10:00

Just wanted to note down that I "led worship" (why the quotes? long story, which I'll probably get into...) at my church this morning. Not a small church - morning congregation is about 700-800 people (Gateway Baptist Church in Brisbane). Anyway, I've done this for years, and today I walked away feeling like I'd kicked a goal that I often don't kick. And I'd like to think more about why.

I guess I'll write more about that in coming posts.

Drew

Churches and all that...

2006-09-14T14:54:00.000+10:00

Well, this is the thought I had that made me decide to start a blog. It's a thought about church, and not necessarily a new thought (is there such a thing?).

Yes, I'm a follower of Jesus, or try to be (and am totally in love with him), which in the mind of most will label me a "Christian" (a term that makes me shudder at times, knowing what "Christians" have done in the past). So, now that that's out there, I wonder about the conversations we get into about how church should look. Why use contemporary music? Why use pews and stained glass? Why use stripped-back house churches? I mean, this stuff goes on forEVER.

So, my thought is this. Instead of the conversation being along the lines of, "What's the best model?" how about this - let's have as our agenda, "From what model can we derive meaning as a community?" I think that this subtle shift would end a lot of bickering.

I have been as jaded as most about churches. But you know, to not put too cheesy a point on it, perhaps love, and not efficacy, should be our compass. Moving ahead, where can I express my love for God? At the moment, it's in a pewie bandy preachy church. Long live the evolution. :)

Drew

First things first

2006-09-14T14:50:00.000+10:00

So... this is my first blog entry. Sometimes you just gotta write stuff where people can read it! :) Even if those people number in the single digits.

Thanks for dropping in...

Drew