feverish

In preparation for heading away next year, Mrs H and I have both been going through the classic routine of getting all the rights vaccinations up to date. Mrs H got her few outstanding ones in one go; I, on the other hand (a) needed twice as many, and (b) am a big wuss around needles, and so have spaced mine out much more.

Anyway, was back at the GP on Monday for the penultimate round: in this case, a second dose of rabies in the right arm, and a diptheria, tetanus and pertussis jab in the left. Having never had much of a reaction to any jabs before, I was fairly surprised to come down with a heavy dose of something viral that evening. Cue sleepless nights, blown capillaries (a side effect of violently talking into the Great White Telephone throughout a sleepless night...) colossal aches, and sweating for Ireland. This was all a bit of a new experience, and so is pretty intriguing. Apart from the bit where I managed to vertically faceplant a wall yesterday - that was just weird.

48 hours on, it's mostly passed, bar the headaches (and the sweating - in what is at best a fairly cold office, and am down to T-shirt and still feel roasted) but I still find it weird not quite being able to process what people are saying to me...

get a grip

Just a quick plug/review of a short book I recently picked up - Get A Grip, published by the ongoing BibleFresh initiative, as a spin-off of a current speaking tour they have travelling Great Britain.

The book collects 17 short articles (500 words or so) from a few notable names in UK evangelicalism, which tackle passages of Christian scripture divided in to two categories: lesser-known ones which may give valuable insight, and all too well-known ones which tackle subjects we might wish weren't in scripture at all. I must admit it was the latter of these which drew me in.

I greatly 'enjoyed' the challenge of tackling genocide in Sunday school whilst still there at the start of the year, and will admit I probably learnt a lot more in preparing that session than the kids probably got from me burbling my way through it. I find an awful lot of good can be found in trying to meet these theological brain-melters head on, and I was intrigued to see how far respected thinkers might go on such matters.

Before purchasing, I asked Krish Kandiah whether he thought the short essays were able to tackle subjects like genocide and corporal punishment. 'Pithy but chunky,' came the reply. It might sound more like a good soup, but I reckon that's actually a pretty good assessment.

They're by no way exhaustive - a few of them come across as they only can, as introductions to a topic. But for the price of a cup of coffee, there's a great range of conversation starters. Plus, the whole thing is built around Bible translation and so £1 from every purchase goes straight to funding work in Burkina Faso.

If you're interested, you can pick up a copy direct from the website. Anyone else come across it yet?

the crudest equations of faith

Followed a Facebook link down (or up? I can never decide) the garden path to this article by Tim Stanley for the Telegraph, about Richard Dawkins' apparent refusal to debate the theologian William Lane Craig. Whilst it's a pity that Dr Dawkins has declined this particular sparring invite, I can't admit to being too bothered in the grand scheme of things. (If you do like a good argument, I believe the twelve rounds Dr Dawkins went through with Alistair McGrath, author of one of the more useful books I've ever owned is well worth a googling.)

Rather, the reason for blogging about it, dear readers, was this rather succinct observation the author makes:

[We might assume] that [Dawkins] doesn’t understand Christian apologetics, which is why he unintentionally misrepresents Craig’s piece. The most frustrating thing about the New Atheism is that it rarely debates theology on theology's own terms. It approaches metaphor and mysticism as if they were statements of fact to be tested in the laboratory. Worse still, it takes the crudest equations of faith (total submission to an angry sky god) and assumes that they apply to all its believers at all times equally.

Good point, well made?

labels

I've a long-running, occasionally dipped-in-to discussion with the man-myth-legend Bob about the definitions of things. In life, we don't like labels. I think a major reason for this is because the moment we find one that seems to fit us, we invariably then find ten other people, none of whom we would ever want to have anything to do with, who seem to be appropriating the same label.

Perhaps I'm being harsh here, but then when we have this discussion, it's usually against the backdrop of theological nomenclature. That is, the labels placed on us as members of the worldwide body that comes in the wake of God's ongoing intervention into humanity's history. Reformer, catholic, non-subscribing, presbyterian, anglican, baptist, anabaptist, calvinist, arminian, pentecostal. The list goes on. All of us who belong to the Church in some way or another assume a label, even it's hermit, agnostic, or survivor. It could be argued that none of these are permanent for us; in our meandering journey of discovery, our figurative walk with God, be that left, right, towards or away from, we exist in a constant state of flux between these labels.

I find one I struggle with the most to be 'evangelical'. Hit up Wikipedia and you'll get the four 'key commitments' of the Evangelical movement, born in the British Isles in the mid 18th century:

- 'The need for a personal conversion to the Christian faith';
- A high regard/respect for the authority of the Bible (note that this does not necessarily equivocate to infallibility, but more the notion of biblical inerrancy)
- 'An emphasis on teachings that proclaim the saving death and resurrection of' Jesus Christ, recognised as the Son of God;
- 'Actively expressing and sharing the gospel'

If you're not a God-botherer, then you might well say that sounds broadly like all Christianity. It actually doesn't, but that's a statement for better thinkers than I to tear apart.

But there's a problem. I would strongly identify with those statements. Does that make me an evangelical? It sounds tempting. But you know all those right-wing types in America? Well, they're evangelicals too. They voted for Sarah Palin. I know. Know those churches that seem to exist in a parallel universe from the neighbourhood they're in? They say they're evangelical. The church I grew up in would claim some evangelical types, and there's freemasons on the vestry. Evangelical - really? You still want to be one of those, part of a body that includes Tea Party activists and closet believers and cultish types, churches which spend £30,000 on a new porch when there are kids destroying themselves nearby for the want of someone to actually give them some guidance in life?

But there's a problem with that too, because of course, that's not what the word means. More, like everything it life, it's what we as the people who embody it have become. In many ways, I desperately want to admit to calling myself an evangelical, but the baggage that comes with that (much like calling yourself a Christian) that stymies the words before the make it out of my mouth.

This morning (with a h/t to the Rend Collective's twitter feed) I came across Greg Fromholz attempting to deal with this discussion. It's great to have creative, left-brain thinkers like Greg attempting to deal with this stuff in a way that we normal folk can engage with, so I've shamelessly republished it here. But I'll throw in a heavy plug for his digital book, Liberate Eden which will mess with your head in amazing ways.



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deserting

In January, the good Mrs H and I are hoping to head to Niger, West Africa with the mission agency SIM. Which is all very exciting, if also terrifying in equal abundance.

Nonetheless, as I'm going to be working for SIM Niger as a communications coordinator (whilst my dear wife is busy with, y'know, saving people's lives and all that) it would seem to be fairly conceivable that such things should, of course, be documented on a personal level for all and any interested parties to be able to follow our progress.

However, we deemed that as people who would wish to read about that thing may not necessarily also wish to have their minds populated with movie trailers, rants, getting @gmsythftw elected, video production commentary, theological rants and journal publishing (their loss) we've set up a new blog elsewhere.

Desert Hueys - I know, I KNOW, but YOU try and come up with something better - will document our time up to and whilst we are away in Niger. I hereby promise it will be fascinating, if you like that sort of thing.

Over the next couple of months we're going to try and get as much information out as possible, but DH (as I already affectionately think of it as) may be the primary source for up-to-date knowledge. There's also info about signing up for the more "official" updates, and no doubt this humble blog will remain an outlet for all other stuff that my wife won't let me publish in her name appeals to a wider audience.

Thanks to those in the offline world who have already been so supportive, and hopefully online folks may also find their interest piqued by some of the unique and challenging prospects that Niger holds.

the brothers bloom

Having watched it a couple of weeks ago and being bowled over by its unexpected brilliance, I had been meaning to write a short post to point interested travellers towards the 2008 film The Brothers Bloom. I sodding loved it, as did my good wife - a rare bit of concurrence in itself, and testament to the work in question, if nothing else.

However, on a trip to YouTube to find a trailer to embed - well, it became a reminder that more often than not, the guys who cut trailers can be really, really annoying. Somehow, the committee that came up with this one took something that was more up the Wes Anderson line of aesthetics, and turned it in to Ocean's 13.



I can't really emphasise enough how different the pacing of the actual film is. The narrative clips along at a right old pace - it is a con caper, after all - but the extra beats inserted, particularly after gags (which often just occur without any build-up) are completely absent from this trail. And all the other trails I found in my short browse.

It's pretty much an advertisement for a completely different film, to my mind. I wonder if anyone else seen both and can offer a reaction...

an evolving account

Had a minor scribbling fit on the train last Friday as I was attempted to formulate my issue with an article which appeared in The Times that day. Friday's paper contained the always readable Eureka science supplement; one thing I like about The Times is that they include things like this.

The lead article in Eureka was promoting Richard Dawkins' new book, The Magic of Reality. The supplement's leader compared it to Ernst Gombrich's magical A Little History Of World, in which the author distilled human history down to a few hundred, child-friendly pages. Dawkin's has attempted to do something similar for fundamental science, which is commendable.

What is maybe not so commendable is his aggressive pushing of his religious beliefs through it, but we'll come to that later.

As is usual with such things, an article in the main paper was tenuously linked to the supplement as a trail. The article in question, written by the excellent Will Pavia, was entitled 'Professor quits because he can't Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden,' and can be read in its entirety on the Langaa website. (Fortunately, as the Times paywall prevents linking it up there.)

Pavia reports that Professor John Schneider, of Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan (alma mater of Cornelius Van Til, for all you fans of presuppositional apologetics out there - don't worry, I didn't forget you) is to leave his post in the theology department after coauthoring papers 'noting that it was becoming ever harder to maintain that all humans were descended from Adam and Eve.' He goes on to describe the events in detail.

However, this is not what I was making notes about, nor was it what the broader theme of this particular article was. The byline on the article declared "Evangelical Christians are facing a "Galileo moment" over the literal truth of the Bible...' That is, a moment compared to the moment that Galileo singularly proved that the world revolved around the sun, and was not the centre of the universe (which, you may recall, the Vatican did not take too kindly to.) It is seen as a defining turning point as European society began to look beyond the academic church for knowledge, and science became independent of theology. Fair enough.

Pavia indicates that if science proves that the Genesis accounts of creation and the fall are proven to be impossible as literal records, evangelical Christianity will be torn asunder. And this is where I have to step in. Now granted, I probably wouldn't take much issue if that byline I quoted had had an additional word: say, 'American Evangelical Christians are facing a "Galileo moment"...' I have no doubt that, in the battle between Creationism and Evolutionism for the minds of America's classrooms, such a proof would be a body blow for the so-called Christian Right.

But here - well, here on our side of the pond, I'm not so sure. Of course we debate creationism - but being crafty Europeans, we can handle subtext. We don't do shock and reaction so immediately. We like to sit in our cafes, chew on our cheeses, and mull over things a bit more.

(I appreciate the irony of a Northern Irishman writing those words, but bear with me, please. The humourous post about the leaflet that came through our door from the gospel hall is coming later in the week to make up for my apparent blindness.)

So here is what irked me. Ken Ham, President and CEO of the organisation Answers In Genesis, is quoted towards the end of the article. Mr Ham's organisation focuses partiicularly on promoting Young Earth creationism (that is, that the Earth in its entirety is no more than several thousand years old) and, obviously therefore, a completely literal interpretation of Genesis. Being much better read than I, such thinkers can give strong arguments for this, but you can find out about those yourself, dear reader. Mr Ham is quoted reacting to physics lecturer, Karl Giberson.

Giberson, 'who taught physics at Eastern Nazarene College in Boston but eventually felt pressured to leave, said:"It's clear to more thoughtful Christian scholars that Adam and Eve simply can't be historical figures and we have to deal with it. The donors who fund Christian colleges are not always very intellectual. Of course every biology department teaches evolution, and every religion department teaches a literary interpretation of the Bible. They just can't own up to it."'

For what it's worth, I think what Karl Giberson says is about what departments teach is broadly true. Mr Ham also agrees, but does not take well to it.

"'[Answers in Genesis] published a book called Already Compromised, which look at what's being taught. The majority were teaching evolution," Mr Ham said. He described scholars such as Mr Giberson as "wolves in sheep's clothing". He said, "They are undermining the gospel. If Adam and Eve aren't literal, Christianity is totally meaningless. You might as well through the Bible away."'

My apologies to readers of a sensitive nature, but at this point I have heavily underlined and circled that quote in the paper, with a tactfully massive 'WTF?' beside it. And here is why.

Let's set aside the longstanding argument that the Genesis accounts (note the plural, as it can be said chapters 1 and 2 are two separate accounts, and not a continuous narrative) were added as a prologue to the Torah by rabbinical scholars, in an attempt to distill hundreds of years of storytelling and teaching. Whilst worth pointing out, that's an article of it's own right - see the short footnote to this article for more.

As I mentioned, yes - it is damaging to the Creationism drive, particularly Stateside, if Genesis 1-3 can be proven conclusively to be non-historical. But how can Ken Ham claim that this would render Christianity to be "totally meaningless"? For even if the creation is a parable, a fable, an allegorical representation of reality - how does that in any way damage the story of Christ?

I'll give you an example from Biblical theology. Any time a prophet gets started in the old or new testament, things can get a bit... freaky. You get visions of all sorts of things. Four headed beasts. Voices out of nowhere. Heavenly fire. Inexplicable, incredibly powerful, signs and miracles. But take the Revelation of John at the very end of the Christian Bible. In that book, John records a vision he has of heaven, in which Jesus reveals signs to him - of the end of an age, an empire, maybe even the world itself.

Not this sort of description: 'I heard beyond me a loud voice like a trumpet...' (Rev. 1:10); 'I turned around to see...someone like a son of man' (1:12-13); 'His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace' (Rev. 1:15); 'His face was like the sun... (Rev. 1:16). [Italics added.]

It's (pretty much) universally accepted that John did not actually see a vision of Christ with bronze feet, a shiny face, and a voice that sounds like a trumpet. Rather, he is attempted to find some possible way of putting in to words the brillance that he witnessed. He's attempting to describe the indescribable. Augustine of Hippo famously noted that, as God is beyond our understanding, if we can comprehend 'it' fully, then the 'it' in question cannot be God. Thus, in Scripture, John of Patmos, like many Biblical writers, attempts to record his revelation in the best way he can.

And because it is inspired Scripture, we know it is true. It may not be completely literal (though there is literal truth - John had a vision; Jesus spoke to him; He told him things and so on) but it is truth in its entirety.

With me so far? You may see where I'm going with this.

I want to believe in a literal Adam. Of course I do, if it is completely literal, then it means I have a comprehension of one of God's greatest works, and the events that then transpired.

But I fear that this may be another Biblical instance where the true course of what transpired - over a week, over years, over millennia) is so mindblowing, so huge, and so much bigger than we fallen, limited people could even begin to understand the reality of, that God has instead given us this short, inspired text so that we can understand the complete truth instead.

For either way, I would argue the truth of Genesis remains the same. Regardless of exactly how it happens, we people are created in the image of God. But we are fallen, incapable of self-redemption, corrupt and bent on our own self-destructions. One does not have to look at the world long to realise a truth in that. And either way, regardless of Mr Ham's apparent blustering, Christianity is even more meaningful. We 'might as well throw the Bible away'? No, sir, we need to hold on to its core for dear life. Because regardless of how we got 'here', there's only one way out for our sorry souls.

As you can tell, I'm still fairly livid about a 'Christian leader' saying such a thing. He certainly does not represent me.

Here's what I know: like the Ark, like the Lion's Den, like the miracle of feeding the 5000 - after time has ended, after the earth has been consumed by an exploding sun, or destroyed by man ourselves, we will have an opportunity to find out the answer to such things. But you know what? I reckon we probably won't care so much about what will seem fairly trivial, in the light of the glory we might behold.

---///---

Back to Mr Dawkins to finish. Ah, Mr Dawkins. I do think his new book is, in principle, a marvellous idea. As a child, I went through several phases as many boys do: dinosaurs; astronomy; blowing stuff up. Science seems like a world of possibility and cool stuff (long before secondary school sucks all the fun out.) That someone would take the time to try and distill science's myriad, humungous, and most important theories into understandable language is brilliant.

My problem with Dawkins, sadly though, is that you don't just get that. You also get his own personal slant. His preaching, you might say. Now, I've just written what could be construed as a short sermon above - but I would argue I'm fairly open and unashamed about my motivations for doing so. Mr Dawkins, not so much when it comes to aggressively attacking one faith in order to push his own, but under the guise of... well: "Won't somebody think of the children?"

He opens his short article in Eureka with the following: '"Please tell me something I can tell Daddy, which he doesn't already know." The heartfelt plea of this child from Northern Ireland is the more poignant because his father happened to be a devout Christian - as is common in that unfortunate province. What nonsense might this boy have been fed...?'

And later: 'No educated person believes the Adam and Eve myth nowadays...'

Dawkins is crusading against parents who would even consider telling their children about what they believe. I'm all up for children learning about evolution, I am. And I'm not in favour of it being left off the curriculum altogether and replaced with a theology. But why do we have to insist that 'we' know best?

I reckon I am reasonably educated, and I definitely believe the truth of the Genesis accounts, as I've described. I studied sciences and maths for A Level. I was invited along to Scripture Union. I was allowed the opportunity, in this very 'unfortunate province' indeed, to make up my own mind. What more could I ask for?

The problem with the New Atheists is, like the Christian Right, having come to their realisation that their own theologies, or sciences (depending on their choice of words) are absolute and correct, and that therefore all others must be wrong, they then set forth to attempt to disprove, laugh off, and wipe the other off the face of the Earth. And one is as bad as the other.

In my line of work, it's considered a weakness to ever admit that you don't know something. Just say you can do it, and then figure it out afterwards. For the most part, that's ok - we all grow through it. But life should not be the same.

When it did become not OK to just admit: "I don't know the answer?"

We'll find out afterwards, anyway.

telling the truth?

As the summer begins to draw to a close, Issue Four of The Lawkit hit 'the shelves' of the internet today. Initially I had decided not to contribute, but ended up with something wholly suitable more or less by accident. (A blog post which was far too long, essentially.)

I chose to write in this issue about narrative and storytelling, and the crucial role I believe it plays in humanity's essence. Funnily enough, I was about to write a few lines here about something completely different, but an obvious link was prompted in my mind.

I'm currently up in the tower, cutting away at footage from Monday's Refresh Belfast event in the Black Box - an event that went almost went pretty flawlessly. I'm pleased with how the raw footage looks (believe me, I would not mention it, even in this small corner of the internet, if I wasn't, and particularly not pre-release).

However, gremlins do rear their head; though freshly charged and thoroughly tested, the speaker's nifty headset mic decided to fall over half-way through. Not a problem, as we had a spare beside him, ready to go - barely a stumble in the live sense.

However, in the video and out of that context, I'm presented with an editing dilemma. Here's the sequence of events: speaker pauses; begins to make his next point; mic crackles a bit and dies; speaker looks a little confused; speaker is handed a fresh mic; speaker continues, more or less exactly where he left off.

The obvious thing is just to cut the incident out completely, right? And join up the two ends? But this is where my loyalty to narrative kicks in.

Crucially, in a visual sense, things have changed: the speaker now has a mic in his hand, and is seated in a slightly different position. There's no match cut; instead, there's a fairly clear jump in positions which jars. So whilst you don't lose anything content wise - there's nothing to lose - something is different.

My inclination in these situations has become to leave the incident in - to inform the viewer why things have changed. (See, for example, the mildly infamous 'Chris groping Tim Van Damme' moment from Build last year - and it wasn't even our equipment he was fixing!) This may seem unnecessary. However, I feel it actually helps with the 'story' that's being told. Rather than a viewer spending a couple of minutes puzzled by the jump cut, and thereby potentially being distracted from the narrative that's being told, they walk through alongside the teller. No confusion, no distraction - just a little incident, right?

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a forfey postcard

Featuring a sign, some sunflowers, the cows, a load of tents, Adam Currie and his Yaschia 635, wellies, microphones, More Than Conquerors, Farriers, Wondervillains, Rams' Pocket Radio, a brace of trout, printing, Andy and Old Toby, a crowd, Kasper Rosa, Katie & The Carnival, Duke Special Jr. looking a bit lost, an important sign, some umbrellas, a lot of rain, Feldberg, an interesting choice of headgear, Simon Newell's epic boatmaking skills (tested by Kerry), a double rainbow, a barbeque (before and after), a kid dressed as Spiderman (look carefully), a hipster racoon, a literally knees-up, Master & Dog, Daithí Ó Drónaí, a nice candle, Captain Cameron, and Tim Doak looking slightly bemused at Matt's big head.

dinosaur office

(h/t to @todaysbigthing)

call for support

Just had a slightly unusual bit of cold calling - from Tearfund. Or rather, a telesales agency working "on behalf" of Tearfund.

But keep that righteous indignation in check for a minute. Though clearly reading from a script for most of the call, the polite (and noticeably, less aggressive than is typical) lady on the other end did not deliver the usual telesales jargon. She finished the call with:

"Just to make clear, I am working for a company engaged by Tearfund for fundraising, and though we are being paid £24,000 for this contract, Tearfund hope to make £270,000 over the next four years from these commitments."

I did not ask for this information, and it left me with a very different impression than I had, say, mid-call. As an irregular Tearfund supporter, I appreciate being an obvious port of call when the time comes for an appeal, and remain interested in what is going on even if I choose not to support them in this way. For that reason, I listened to her entire pitch before responding (rather than interrupting and ending the call straight away, as I would if she were selling windows/insurance/phones/hovercraft/whatever).

And it leaves an interesting discourse to my mind. I am generally divided over how charities should spend their money. On one hand, I love the fact that some, such as charity:water, guarantee that 100% of public donations go to the causes advertised, committing to pay for admin/operational costs through corporate sponsorship.

On the other hand, for the majority this just isn't possible; as Mrs H and I continue to build towards the potential of a year away next year, I'm only too aware that we will ourselves need to fundraise to cover some of the costs of our missional efforts.

Is it admirable that Tearfund are investing money donated to them in this way, and being so upfront about it? I rather think it might be. But I wonder if others may be miffed that their gifts and donations have not gone straight to the third world. We humans are funny like that.

back to the grind

Back in Box42 HQ after a couple of (long) weeks on the road this week; between Summer Madness and New Wine, an awful lot of sleep has gone missing somewhere!

In fact, even though we got back from NWI over a week ago, I'm still recovering. So rather than a lengthly discourse on good times had, here's Story House's cracking video from SM of Rend Collective hammering out their new version of a much-loved hymn. (Which we, of course, contributed to - a whole tripod... where's our royalties, Chris?)

award! award!

It's not quite a Golden Cleric, but to some amusement, the Valley of Angels team sidled out of the Bangor Business Awards on Monday night past as recipients of the Best Creative Industries Award.

There's a bit of explaining required here. The inaugural Valley of Angels festival took place in Bangor, Co. Down, at the start of May. There's a lovely website which can explain a lot more about it in particular, and is worth your time for the music videos alone. But then I would say that, as I put them together,

The festival, conceived by audio overlord Les Hume (of EMS Audio and Dawson's Music, both in Bangor) was hauled into shape in as little as two months. For us (that is, Box42) Andrew and myself got stuck in as well to try and cover as much promotional and technical ground as possible. The resulting weekend went well, and all were very pleased.

However, it was only as yer man off the radio was reading out the judge's (admittedly blown-up) comments at the awards on Monday night that I really sat back and realised just how much had been achieved in the first year. For a start, this wasn't just a music festival - we had arts (the Firsty? Pop-Up Exhibition), schools involved (colour-in competition!) massive engagement from local churches (including Psalmody and the set-piece closing event, where Iain Archer, Captain Cameron et al sent spine-tingling waves throughout the unique, epic confines of Bangor Parish). Not to mention the ice-cream eating contest, or the guided tours, or the visit to the Avalon guitar factory, and so on and so on...

Turns out, we did ok. And more importantly, Bangor seems to want more. It'll be great to see where the Valley of Angels goes next.

at first he died... now, he dead!

Reginald D. Hunter was on BBC Breakfast this morning. He funny.

death and dying: terry pratchett's choosing to die

Across the media this morning, folks are talking, writing and blogging reactions to Sir Terry Pratchett's documentary which aired on BBC2 last night (Monday 13th June.) However, I feel like adding my insignificant two cents, as it is a subject which has always had a profound effect.

Sir Terry, himself suffering the onset of Alzheimer's disease, is personally conflicted. On one hand, he is in favour of the legalisation of assisted suicide in the UK. On the other, on travelling to the Dignitas clinic in Switzerland, he does not see it as a black and white issue.

Terry Pratchett is to me, as to many, a literary and creative hero and inspiration, and this was an compelling piece of film making. Really, you might ask? Well, for example, I believe this could have been a very one sided programme. But rather, I felt that, although he himself clearly had an agenda in making it, the documentary gave a strong voice to both sides of the debate around the morality of assisted suicide. Sir Terry spoke about the horrors of covering suicide as a journalist, and how repulsive he had found it; how he would not wish such an ending on anyone. His PA, Rob, clearly expressed how difficult he found the idea; though loyal to his employer and friend, he came across as strongly opposed to the notion, voicing a clear moral opposition, and from a secular standpoint.

And yet Sir Terry was, himself, exploring and considering his own desire to choose how he should die. Clearly fearful of the loss of his capacity to communicate in particular, he expressed his wish to set and predestine his death. He met others in similar situations; in particular, the charismatic and gentlemanly Peter Smedley, whose death it was which was aired at the climax of last night's programme. In his seventies and beginning to suffer the severe onset of motor neurone disease, he had chosen to complete the Dignitas procedure: we watched as he was examined over the course of a week to ensure that he was capable of making such a decision for himself; as he was asked, repeatedly, if he was sure that he did not want to leave and go back home; and, at the last, as he was allowed to take the two 'medicines' required, and slowly slipped off into a deep sleep as his body was prevented from respirating by the concoction. It was

I don't wish to spend time giving a full airing to both sides of the debate; much of the BBC's airtime on radio and television this AM is dedicated to that, and I commend them for it. (Even Stephen Nolan is currently presenting what is actually a balanced debate on the subject, which must be a first for him.)

But from my own perspective, I struggle greatly with assisted suicide. Dignitas's founder was convinced by the UN Convention on Human Rights that people do indeed deserve to choose how they die: after all, that charter enshrines Article 8: The Right To Self-Determination into law. I then realise that my personal faith contradicts this: in one sense, I have no conflict over the issue, as I do not believe that the moment at which I die is my decision to make, but rather that of the God who made me. And yet even in that, it is not a simple, harsh point to be made.

Most of us have met or know someone who passed away, seemingly confident that they were 'ready to die'. At the funeral of the grandmother of a close friend a few years ago, it was clearly articulated that she had felt she was ready to die for years, as she had suffered a lot of physical pain and exhaustion in later life. Our response to this is one of appreciation: we do not question her statement. And yet we would not offer her the opportunity to decide to do just that prematurely.

There was a fascinating moment last night when Terry Pratchett spoke to a doctor, who was employed by Dignitas to assess the mental capability of clients to make their own decisions. If she had said no, for example, Peter Smedley would not have been allowed to access the toxins required to kill himself. This is reasonably common practice across Western Europe, where in many countries assisted suicide is legal in certain situations. And yet this same doctor articulated that she could never actually administer a lethal dose herself, and that she would be completely morally opposed to it.

Rob, Sir Terry's assistant, kept coming back to his point that as clients at Dignitas had to be mentally and physically capable of kiling themselves, they were therefore all in situations where they usually had many years left to live. Surely, he insisted, did they not want to live those years? When Andrew, a 42 year old man with heavy MS, spoke the day he died of still wanting to explore parts of Zurich, where he had only just arrived, Rob blurted out, "Well, let's go then! Let's go see these places tomorrow," Andrew merely shook his head, resigned to the decision he had made to take his own life instead.

I fear death. I don't think I fear anything as much. That may sound hypocritical from someone who increasingly bangs on about a God so much, but it is nonetheless true. And of all the possibilities for my later years (assuming that I get that far) I don't believe I fear anything more that a death plagued by Alzheimer's, dementia or similar. I feel I would rather be physically incapacitated, but still have my mind, than the other way around. And so I appreciate greatly that a relief, any relief, even the starkest, from this is so tempting for someone in Sir Terry's situation, or in that of any of those featured last night. And yet I know that regardless, with or without faith, I thoroughly believe that we should squeeze as much out of this life as possible. But I cannot currently imagine ever saying I would be 'ready to die'.

And I fear greatly for some of those who would. It was very telling, as Rob told us in last night's show, that according to Wikipedia,

'21% of people receiving assisted dying in Dignitas do not have a terminal or progressive illness, but rather "weariness of life".'

Having known some who have attempted to take their own lives in the past, and often the regret they express afterwards, or the battles with depression others have faced, I am terrified of this possibility being available to anyone.

I fear that this is a debate which is growing. I have some confidence that, certainly in my lifetime, some form at least of assisted suicide will be legalised in the UK. I do not know how I will face it if I ever encounter it amongst anyone I know. I am 99.5% against, for moral, spiritual and practical reasons. And yet that 0.5% of pain remains, as my heart goes out to those faced with the possibility of ending their own suffering. We owe it to ourselves to deal with dying better.

In truth, if you or I am opposed to assisted suicide so strongly, we need to make our case: not in words or statements or even articles of religion, but in comforting, in dedication, and in sympathy for those how suffer. How far we are, as a society, from being able to do that, I can only begin to imagine. The vulnerable and the suffering need a reason to keep living, and only we, their fellow humans, can show it to them.

---

and the rains came

A couple of weekends ago, a bunch of lads went for a stroll up some big hills in Co. Down. What ensued was an awful lot of being battered and drenched by the elements. But surprisingly, spirits were high throughout the day, night and following morning until we strolled back down again.

Anyway, one of the minor miracles involved was that we managed to navigate our way up and down a new route, despite visibility dropping to... well, very little in places. It's also hard to keep an eye on a (non-existent) horizon when you're struggling just to stay on your feet. So, for the benefit of the other gents, I took a moment the next day to sketch out the route we took. (Original map courtesy of HM The Queen and suchlike, reproduced without permission because she surely wouldn't mind.)



Mr Jonathan Kirk compiled a small Facebook photo album, but you may need to befriend him in order to see it.

rod liddle and smug humanists

Whilst no saint himself, I greatly enjoyed Rod Liddle's column in the Sunday Times a couple of weeks ago.

On the morning after the apolocalypse was predicted to have occurred, Rod's commented on the events surrounding Harold Camping's failed prediction of armageddon. He may have made a couple of disputable points, which are only to be expected: "Yesterday was supposedly the date of the Rapture... according to millions of born-again Christians across the globe..." Errr, no actually, just a highly misled old man from the States and his - albeit large - band of followers. However, his tempered vitriol is reserved for those who sneer from the other side of faith's Great Divide.

I've taken the liberty of transcribing a large portion of his column: obviously, none of it is my own.


Armageddon and smug humanists: as awful as each other

"It will be a slight disappointment to me if yesterday wasn't actually the end of the world, frankly. It would at least wipe the smile off the faces of those jeering humanists who are busy organising ironic pre-Rapture parties. I suppose schadenfreude and spite are poor reasons to yearn for the utter and complete destruction of mankind, but I cannot help myself. I want to watch the look on Dawkins's face when a giant hand comes down and pokes him in the eye, booming, 'Bad call, science boy.'

"There is something insufferably arrogant and aloof about humanism, its presumption that we represent the bes that there is to offer, that there is nothing more powerful than us. Most of the humanists holding parties over the weekend probably still have the trestle tables left over from their hilariously ironic Not The Royal Wedding street parties, and probably some fo the food too (hummus, I would guess... and organic pitta bread.)

"Dig beneath the surface and you'll find that a fair few of the also believe the end of the world is coming, maybe 30 years or so in the future, the consequence of another foreseen Rature, global warming, with its terrible herald of forlorn-looking polar bears marooned on melting icebergs. Floods, famine, pestilence, drought - the prophecies of the global warming movement's militant wing all have an agreeably biblical ring about them, don't you think?

"One way or another there is something inside many of us that yearns for annihilation and is convinced that it is indeed coming very soon, if only the ignorant masses would listen. I suppose it is a form of narcissism, that we have been singled out for special treatment either because of our own piety, in the case of the evangelical Christians, or the ignorance of others, in the case of the global warming millennialists."

Indeed.

appetite for destruction

Permit me a short rant.

Lovers of Patrick: The Movie will remember the Patmobile - which, R plates and all, was in fact the Ford Escort Osprey I inherited from the Old Man (he of 60's public indency fame). It was clapped out, it had 235,000 on the clock, and after the water pump went it sat in my mother's yard for a year. As she prepared to up sticks last October, the end was nigh.

So I found a local breaker, and send it off for destruction. I asked if I needed to do notify anyone, and was assured it was all in hand. And, I'll admit, I left it at that.

But apparently, I should have notified the DVA of such things. Which makes sense when you think about it, but I did not. I guess in the same way that, upon buying a car, the new possessor is obliged to fill out the page in the log book and send if off, I assumed that the folks who took the Escort away would do the same. They did not.

And may I add - completing an Out Of Court Settlement with a Visa Debit card just seems wrong.

thank you for giving

Over the weekend, Mrs H and myself finally managed to organise a particularly special delivery.

Upon getting hitched nearly three months ago, we had decided to nominate a particular cause, rather than setting a wedding list. The cause in question was SIM's (Serving In Mission) Hospital in Galmi, Niger, where Ruth had served as an STA in 2008 and 2009. A quick refresher of a few of Niger facts:

- Niger is in central West Africa;
- It is the third least developed country in the world;
- Its main (and frequently, only) export is uranium;
- It is about twice the size of the US state of Texas, is 88% desert;
- it has a recent history of civil war and insurrection.

Fun times. But despite all of that, Ruth found Niger an truly wonderful and awesome place. As is often the case, behind a few hairy facts lies a welcoming, if harsh, place. In particular, the rural (i.e. it's in the desert) hospital at Galmi is crucial in many ways. For a huge swathe of the country it offers the only real medical support, particularly for any kind of specialist care. Moreover, as a hospital with a strongly Christian ethos, it can provide a level of compassionate care the few others can ill afford, and is able to bring in international doctors to help out.

But to the golden envelope. The point of this post is to say that thanks to the overwhelmingly generous donations of family and friends to mark our wedding, we have been able to give in excess of £2000 directly to Galmi. A fantastic total from some fantastic people, and we would like to take the opportunity to say thank you to all who gave in any way.

So thank you for giving.

lawkit: issue one available now

From today, you can download or view your own personal copy of the Lawkit from the shiny new (minimalist) website.

It's deliberately published as a PDF. The layout is minimalist but key. This isn't a blog. It's not a cobbled together list of bullet points. Lawkit is centred on the written content, and it is given priority on every page.

I'll be blunt - I'm spectacularly proud of those who contributed effort to the launch issue. Ever since I appealed for contributions a little over a fortnight ago (the lawkit: a call to arms, March 22nd), more than enough people stepped up to the plate, each not really fully knowing what they were getting themselves in to but more than happy to be a part of it.

And what a result. I'm not going to give much away here, but despite having read, re-read and edited all the text content previously, I still sat down for a full read-through this morning and was still gobsmacked. And so, a few thanks to the contributors for Issue One: Andrew Neill, who was first to submit; Jonny Kirk, who produced a piece with exactly the tone we've come to expect from his writing, and on a subject dearly close to his heart which shines throughout; the indefatigable Graeme Smyth, who applied his unique style to great effect (if you know GS, then you will find reading him akin to listening to him pontificating splendidly); and Matt Gamble, who's article was, I'll admit, an easy choice for the front cover - and which, the first time he recounted the anecdote to me, completely blew me away.

And of course, the biggest thanks go to David Lowry, frequently of this parish, for pulling it all together, not to mention hosting the blooming thing. Top notch.

OF COURSE, this is just the start. Now we've done One, we must do Two. And anyone can contribute. See the back couple of pages of the current issue for the necessary information - there's not much to it!

Most of all - please enjoy. This is (hopefully) just the beginning.

nearly there

It's been a busy couple of weeks, mostly spent working on three separate projects, both in and out of work.

First things first: no, the first issue of the Lawkit is not online. (As you can see.) But it will be soon. Very pleased and excited with the way things have progressed; the text and contents are set, just a few graphical tweaks remain.

Another website still under work, but with much more to look at already, is for the Valley of Angels festival in Bangor next month. It's a fairly unique proposition - bringing together a diverse set of musicians and artists for a mixture of either free or very cheap events in some interesting venues... my pick of the events announced so far are the Avalon Guitars factory tour and the Centre Stage event in the Flagship Centre, both of which are free in. There's also an obscenely large prize in the busking competition on the Saturday. It'll be worth keeping an eye for the Knights In The Round gig, which the line-up has not yet been officially unveiled for. (It's a good one, trust me.)

Of course, though it's great to be so heavily involved in something, I am somewhat gutted that the same weekend sees the quiet visit of Kate Rusby to Belfast as part of the Cathedral Quarter Arts Festival. Having never been able to see Kate live, I would probably have sold my granny to have been there anyway. (In fact, I've just spotted the evening gig is sold out already. There's an afternoon one though.) Kate is, quiet rightly, the first lady of folk music, and an unmissable talent.

Finally, there's an election on - and d'workplace has been no exception when it comes to getting involved. We've got on board with Stratagem to ask some of the biggest observers in Northern Ireland for their thoughts on the past and present of the NI Assembly. The first episode is due online tomorrow - watch d'twitter for that one, no doubt.

the lawkit contributor's guide

Further to the previous introduction (and as self-elected editor-in-chief) I've taken the liberty of drawing up a few guidelines. Now, traditionally a publication's style guide sets out their rules for language, grammar, formatting and so on. This post is not one of those.

Rather, I want to offer a context and some parameters, which should assist potential contributors in understanding the tone we're going for. In terms of the practical elements of formatting, I'm largely happy to satisfy the English teacher part of me in correcting the small things. The important thing here is to get across the potential style of the publication itself.

I should also mention that some of the ideas here were inspired by this excellent article on A List Apart by Erin Kissane, which the ever-pedantic @djlowry was kind enough to draw my attention to.


THE LAWKIT CONTRIBUTOR'S GUIDE

- Apparently, you should never read a book by its cover. However, you can tell a lot about the tone of a publication on first look - that's the point of marketing. To that end, the mock-up shown here gives a fair idea of the sort of style currently in the works. Minimalist but striking, letting the content do the talking. I've come up with some multi-coloured nightmares over the last while as I've been thinking about this, but after the epiphany that was the name, the style wrote itself.

- Lawkit should read like a collection of well-written blog posts. Think of your favourite online articles. What makes them so readable?

- The best way to pin down your subject matter is to start with our subject list. To complete an issue, I'd like to gather articles which collectively cover the majority of these. (Potentially, the blog would note which topics were already "taken" for each issue as well.) Currently, the list is:

Politics
Technology
Outdoors
Film
Music
Faith
Science
Sport
Gadgets
Life

- What's the point of Lawkit? It's about Life As We Know It. It's about sharing knowledge. But you don't have to be an expert to write on something, as long as you are interested in it - because if you are interested in something, you'll be interested in telling others about it. To that end, don't try to argue a point you don't believe in.

- Knowledge is king, but knowledge can also be useful. Able to write a How-To guide for something? Then do it.

- Don't be afraid to be specific or niche.

- Be clear about your subject from the start: 500 words and no waffle is highly preferable to 1500 with - and it'll get cut anyway. Slaughter your babies - omit needless content or someone else will.

- If you only have twenty minutes to bang out something, go for it all the same.

- So knowledge is king, but clarity is Grand High Poobah; you can speak a bit academically and still stay accessible to the casual expert. There's nothing more irritating than being obtuse for the sake of it, and you know it.

- This isn't to sell stuff (yet.) So don't do it - unless you're willing to give something in return for advertising (in which case, let's talk.) That said, if you're involved in something that you feel people might like to hear about, please tell us.


Got all that? Then get scribbling.

the lawkit: a call to arms

Interested in writing - about anything at all?

Two weeks ago (in Carried Along, March 10th 2011) I mentioned a desire to write more. It's been bugging me since.

When I was at school, I pestered a teacher to let me publish a newsletter aimed at our SU. The idea was I'd gather up three or four people every now and again and get them to write something meaningful. Then I'd pull it altogether in a Microsoft Word template, slap in some clip art, and get it photocopied en mass. It would be a bit of reading material for the bus home, would cost nothing to produce, and would maybe even offer a pause for thought.

Then, second or third issue in, the whole thing nearly got pulled after, for badness, I wrote a lengthly editorial questioning seven day creationism (which came straight after a lovely mild-mannered contribution from our headmaster.) I was harangued by a few peers, clearly distressed at my ability to think independently.... no, I'm winding. Although, encouraging, the aforementioned teacher grinned mildly and let me carrying on publishing for the best part of two years.

I have never lost the hunger for writing or editing. Although I ended up focusing on directing photography and editing, my initial drive for studying film at degree level was to write. One of the best parts of studying the day release couse this year has been the chance to write. And so, in the kind of epiphany one can only have spacing out in a lecture (no reflection on the lecture itself, mind) I had an idea, and the Lawkit was conceived.

The idea is to publish, initially online, a journal featuring concise-ish articles about Life As We Know It (hence, Lawkit). I'm looking for articles, reviews, thoughts, testimonials, essays, whatever. And they can be about anything...

...as long as you are passionate about it. For example: politics, entertainment, music, film, science, technology, faith, life, mild musings - whatever. 300-3000 words on something you think is important. Maybe something you hate. Maybe something you think others should find out about. It could be something you write in a few minutes or a few hours. It could be "Why You Don't Need An iPad to Function." Or "Why People Should Care More About Sheep." Or even "Why University is Pointless." How about "Why Lionel Messi is Just a Poor Man's Andrei Kanchelskis." Tell me.

Now, Google Analytics tells me a fair number of people are still reading this blog several years on. I even have a notion who a few of you are. And any of you could write something. The presentation won't be smashing - I'm not claiming much talent as a graphic designer at all - but if there's one thing I've learnt in life, it's that everyone has something to say. And with a little effort, we can collectively get it to an interested audience.

Tweet me @mediatree, or e-mail me for more info. Let's make it happen.

---

EDIT: Read the Lawkit Contributor's Guide for more inspiration.

---

love wins?

Only a short discourse here, as I'm not going to tempt fate by saying much on the topic (or for that matter, showing my hand much.) So Love Wins is out Stateside, soon to come here. Pastor Rob Bell, known best this side of the pond for that friend of the youth-worker-at-a-loose-end, the Nooma series of short videos, has finally done the rounds on the national press, plus the launch interview, to put forth his argument, and in doing so attempt to enter dialogue with the huge swell of criticism that has come his way over the last few weeks. (Interestingly, when I went to link to it on Amazon.co.uk, I found that the UK edition of the book has a completely different cover and subtitle. It's still published by Harper but under the HarperCollins label, and not HarperOne as in the USA.)

Of course, I say dialogue, but he remains suitably vague as ever. (Not an un-Christlike quality, I should hasten to add, but that is in no way to compare Rob with Christ!) And I say criticism, but, in classic conservative American style, that would be putting it politely.

I don't want to agree or disagree with Rob Bell's theology: firstly, as I haven't read Love Wins yet, but probably will at some point soon; and secondly, because of my firmly held belief in the conversational nature of theology.

That is to say, I firmly hold that, in the same way to rule on a case, a court must hear arguments and evidence from all sides concerned, I believe that if we want to try and discern the true nature and purposes of God, we must spend - quite literally - our lifetimes trying to discover them. Like it or not, it is not often disputed that the Bible cannot comprehensively provide to us a full picture of God. It just can't physically fit in. The Bible is snapshot - the trinity is not, as some might seem to hold at time, the Father, Son and Holy Bible. Only from God's own self-revelation can we try and behold His glory.

(That sounded very evangelical. My apologies. Time to get back on track.)

I'll say one thing. I was very, very disappointed in the now-infamous John Piper tweet. You can be damn sure Jesus wouldn't have made that quip. Piper is a great theologian and teacher, but you can't account for a very human case of the headstaggers I guess. Put me right off my quest for more gelato for at least thirty seconds.

Here is my real point though, and it has troubled me for the past couple of weeks. I have no doubt that there's the possibility of cavalier attitudes going on in Bell's latest discussion. I lend some credit to Mark Driscoll for his explanation as to his symbolic departure from the Emergent Church circle - that, although there is value in asking doctrine-shaking big questions, there is a point which you should not pass, Biblical truths that are axiomatic. I would dismiss the extreme of American conservative Christianity in its criticism, because of course as Europeans we are above that level of knuckle-dragging thinking. (US readers please note: this is what we older nations call "humour". Spelt correctly too, mind.) But I would question that the same neo-Calvinists, and in particular the Gospel Coalition style folks who have been especially voracious in their opposition. And this is why.

The typical position for the criticism has been that Bell is heretical. That he is wrong. I don't mind that. But how do you, dear critic, know he is wrong? And this is the crux of what bothers me. Those who are most famously criticising the likes of Bell, McLaren, Campolo et al on their theology speak from the position of this troubling statement:

Because if you disagree with what I am saying, then you disagree with God.

That's it. End of discussion.

But what position does this place the speaker in? Are those critics claiming to have the complete definition of God's character? Perhaps they would argue that the only knowledge they need for these arguments are those axiomatic truths we just referred to, those obvious Biblical facts that are so fundamental to the Christian faith, they cannot be questioned. Perhaps. But I wonder.

Anyway, I'm done. Kevin DeYoung has posted the definitive Gospel Coalition review of the book online today. However, for balance - and I would strongly urge you to take a few minutes to read this - Prof. Eric Kaitan has written a short essay articulating, amongst other things, a similar idea to what I have tried to put forth, and some Biblical questions to consider when approaching Bell's controversial work.

Will faith overcome in all this? I doubt it in terms of the debate. But thankfully, I don't think God is too bothered by our quabbling. Mercifully, regardless of the holes we dig ourselves in to, Love does, in the end, Win whether we realise it or not.

keep on rocking?

I was a Guitar Hero addict for a while. You know the type (certainly, if you were at my stag do, this is DEFINITELY going to resound with you.) After a while, I don't just play. I go nuts, jumping and throwing shapes and generally doing my best possible uncoordinated-white-boy-thang. And whilst recent games have not matched the initial euphoria, and have resulted in the axing of the Guitar Hero series, today's announcement from Ubisoft has got me a little a-quiver.

You see, Ubisoft's Rocksmith game takes it all to a whole new level - because you can use your actual guitar to play actual music.

My mind has just interrupted me here and said, yes - and if you got a band together again you could do this with actual people...

But that's not the point. Guitar Hero and Rock Band, among other things, introduced an awful lot of people to some awfully good music. And whilst the quality of track selection in the last few games has been increasingly poor, I will forever cherish pushing Paul Reddan around his living room to Welcome to the Jungle and Killing In The Name, hammering multi-coloured plastic buttons into Kingdom Come. So to restore that kind of experience, and to be able to plug in my own (lefty!) Strat to do it...

..it'll either be brilliant, or completely pants.

carried along

We got married a fortnight ago, and it's been understandably crazy since. In the midst of it all (it's still going on in it's own way, to a certain extent) I've been sitting working to try and finish off a paper on the theology of work. Ironically, much of this has been done today in the Box42 office, the most peaceful place I could find to work as my coworkers are both out and about. And a pleasant distraction from that, for the five minutes I'm allowing myself, is to contemplate writing topics for the future.

Whilst we were away in Florence for a pretty fantastic honeymoon (even managed to get to the Odeon Firenze twice - The King's Speech in a cavernous theatre was quite brilliant) one of the topics of conversation was writing. I am a big writer, scribbler, whatever. I would believe that the vast majority of it is absolute pap, which is conveyed somewhat in the fact that my blogging, for example, is less than frequent - keeping to a regular one a week for the last few months has been struggle enough. Not, I suppose, that there wasn't anything to share, but rather my usual terror that it's nothing but psychobabble. Which, if you were to spend a couple of moments in our office, listening to me mumble my way through the narration of a morning's e-mails, for example, you would probably appreciate all the more.

But I do love to write. And so, whilst getting carried along by all the palaver of the last few weeks, I am starting to slump down the other side and considering making one of the aspects of this new chapter.... to write.

But what... to write?

doctrine #7 - freedom

Editor's note: was tempted for this week's post to be the "I'm getting married and you're all invited..." post. But I'm going to save that for a few days. But I am and you are. And if you hunt for a whole two or three clicks, you can find the other website that's all about it. Anyway, with some irony...



Question: What does it mean to have freedom in Christ? How does this shape your life?

Selecting my words carefully, I have decided to add a short introduction to my original reflection/answer to this statement. Firstly, I understand that the sentiments expressed below are incredibly loaded. I do not say them lightly. But sometimes you just have to show your hand. Evangelism is still not a natural position for me - which might sound strange as it's not exactly a secret that I recently worked for a church. Perhaps in reaction to the famous Northern Irish Christian culture - not subculture, as for so many it dominates, but a culture in its own right - I tend to shy away from the declarations and the decrees that some would favour.

Thankfully, the 21st century has seen many Christians realise, among other things, that just because Jesus is declared perfect does not mean that they are too. This realisation is not a new phenomenon: it is cyclical in church culture, just like so many mindsets and the need for renewal are across so many sectors and cultural ages. However, I will not seek to apologise for the many failings of Christianity, The Religion. These little academic exercises have never been about that. And frankly, The Religion is a waste of time and effort, a human construct of laws and axiomatic principles built up, fundamentally with the best of intentions at times, but the worst of builders - us.

Rather, as this series is permitting, I am attempting to share a short insight under the cover to some of the more fiddly aspects of christianity, The Life. And central to that life is The Word himself, as we shall now briefly explore.

Pause for breath.

I feel there is remarkable comfort to be found in the confidence of Jesus' central work: our redemption in God's sight by His selfless act. The freedom this grants can be not only life-changing, but in some sense, unbounded – though still afflicted with having to deal in a day-to-day sense with what we (as a race) have made of this creation and all its sorrows, we know that we are secure in what is to come.

The obvious thing might be therefore to sit back and simply wait upon Armageddon. After all, the story is over, isn't it? Despite what some churchgoers seem to think, not quite.

Both John Calvin and Martin Luther correctly identify justification as central to Christian teaching; but, as Calvin stresses, this is not where our effort ends. Rather, as believers we receive a 'double grace'; both our justification, and the ignition of an ongoing process of personal regeneration. That is to say, sanctification: the changing of our very self, our nature and behaviour. To many, Christians are easily identifiable as 'different', and unfortunately in many cases, this is not in a positive light. But in truth, Christians are indeed called to be different – as recipients of the person-changing acts of the Holy Spirit, we are to be shaped more and more to conformity with Christ's example of the redeemed life (McGrath, 329).

Inevitably, bound by the millstone that we are still human, we can never reach this conformity, but nonetheless we would be mistaken not to still strive for it. Why? Because in doing so, regardless of our failings, we can still achieve some small measure, if even just a glimpse, of the level of holiness and relationship that God has intended for us. And if that is not something worth shaping our lives towards, I don't know what is.


Bibliography
A McGrath, 'The Doctrine of Salvation in Christ', Christian Theology: An Introduction, fourth ed. (Blackwell 2007) pp. 326-60.

J Calvin, 'Christian Freedom', Institutes 3.19

things i learnt #3: stage directions

'Things I Learnt' is an occasional blog series, highlighting some of the less obvious knowledge learnt at school that's still useful in everyday life today - for this author anyway. To read previous posts, click here.



Something learnt at school, relearnt at university, refreshed when I returned to education as a secondary school teacher, and still hounding me (at least) weekly are four words: stage left, stage right.

You think it would be simple, as the diagram above illustrates (which I'm almost considering getting tattooed on the inside of my wrist at this point.) But the problem has always been that the wires between "house" and "stage" in my brain seem to get tangled. A lot.

I remember learning basic blocking at age 11 or 12 in drama class. Now, my junior school Drama teacher was an interesting fellow. He was also our cricket coach (I say "our" - I mean the 10-15 or so of us who were actually interested, come the summer term. It's the only school sports team I was ever guaranteed a place on. But that's another story.) He seemed pretty prolific when it came to organising the school drama productions. However, in the classroom, he seemed a bit less interested. Mind you, years later as I was attempting to teach junior school Drama in the same room to the same age group, I had a lot more sympathy - not to mention even less patience. Again, another story.

And so he would write the directions on A4 pages, and stick them on the relevant walls. Then we played games akin to the church hall favourite, Port & Starboard. Often at the start of every lesson for a few weeks. And yet can I remember? Can I heck.

Several years later, and I'm attempting to completely bluff my way around a production meeting with some actors on a short film. Getting carried away, I think I've convinced one of the leads to do exactly as I want him - but crucially, as he blocks it out, he keeps coming from the wrong direction into frame. I'm getting more and more exasperated, and he's getting more and more confused. Eventually, he realises I've got the directions the wrong way around.

Never give an actor the upper hand, because you'll never get them back.

Another couple of years on, and I'm about to play the Port & Starboard game with my own Second Form class (that's Year 9 for those from normal schools.) I stick up Upstage and Downstage. And then I'm suddenly standing in the middle of the room with Stage Left and Stage Right signs in my hand. I haven't a clue.

I end up asking the class if anyone wants to show if they can remember which is which. I think it worked. I still wasn't sure.

Stage directions are from the perspective of the stage. But then, how come stage up and stage down don't seem to correspond in the same way? And so I get stuck, time and time again.

Technically therefore, I'm not sure if it counts as a 'Thing I Learnt'. Really, it's a 'Thing I Am Still Learning Again and Again and Again...'

Exit stage left right SIDE...

doctrine #6 - contextualisation

Full credit to the continuously magnificent Jon Birch @ AsboJesus


Question: What are the limits of contextualisation and inculturation?

Contextualisation of a church and its theology is somewhat of a balancing act: on one end, the Word; on the other, the indigenous culture; and at the pivot, the fledgling body of believers trying to make sense and gain an understanding of it all. I can immediately envision three key problematic areas in this.

Firstly, the more a church adapts to a specific culture, the more danger there is of it becoming homogeneous – that is, composed of elements specific to that culture, logically therefore running the risk of being closed to those from other backgrounds. A church must always maintain a welcoming, all-inclusive nature ahead of giving any population complete ownership.

Secondly, there is the issue of syncretism – the attempt to reconcile contrary ideas, and melding practices together despite opposing practices. In some areas of the church, fusion of methodologies should not be problematic, such as finding a good style of music for a worship setting. But there has to be a limit. For example, different methods of leadership may be appropriate and recognizable to different cultural settings; indeed, a missionary may wish to structure a congregation in a way that reflects local tradition. But consider if oppression, even violence, towards women was prevalent locally – this is not something the leadership of a church could reflect in its decision-making, as it goes directly against Christian values

In truth, we realise that on our seesawing scales of Word and culture, the poles are not really balanced – and so thirdly and finally, inculturation must be limited, with the one fluctuating pole (culture) in practice filtered out by its steadfast opponent (the Word). I therefore conclude that although methodologies can always be contextual, the Word is not; and like so many things, the real balancing act is not to find a line down the middle of the two poles to deliver a message, but to, in fact, keep that very message – the Gospel message – central at all costs.


Editor's note: There was a bibliography for this essay, but the named articles are not freely available (journals, etc.). Boo, and indeed, hiss.

doctrine #5 - person of Christ

Question: How recognisable do you think the Christ of orthodox Protestantism would have been to the early church?

Initially, it is pleasing to note some difficulty in pinning down some of the specifics: perhaps we have not warped the message over time as much as we sometimes think. As the Council of Chalcedon (451) indicated, provided Christianity recognizes the twofold nature of Christ being “truly divine and truly human” (McGrath, 273) there is a much lesser importance to how people explore or articulate it. Indeed, it appears many models of contemporary thinking are shared with the church of Acts: recogising Jesus as Messiah, as Saviour, as Son of God – terms all used by Paul and other NT authors. Equally, the 20th century rediscovery in recognition of Jesus as the bearer of a new relationship to the Holy Spirit (McGrath, 300) holds forth strongly in post-Pentecost Acts.

However there remain sore points of conflict (Gunton, 245-72.) For example, though Luther declared Christ’s legacy was both pro me (for me) and pro nobis (for us) it appears that we Protestants continues to skew pro me, with a heavy emphasis on personal relationship – leading to the emotive thinking that Scripture must speak to us as individuals for us to truly believe and accept it. Equally we can be tempted to equate our God-consciousness with how Jesus related to God – something Friedrich Schleiermacher was conscious to try and differentiate, and perhaps the apostles would have been shocked by, having walked with Jesus and known his perfection in the flesh. Whilst of course relating to God is a matter of a personal heart – for only we know our own minds – it is often key to reflect on the corporate reverence the early church held Christ in.

Though we might think nothing of calling Jesus God, the NT writers were all too conscious of just how much weight this statement carried – and so on the three occasions it clearly appears in Scripture, the words are picked and chosen with extreme care (McGrath, 281.) Perhaps we would do well to think the same.


Bibliography
K Tanner, ‘Jesus Christ’ in C Gunton, (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Christian Doctrine, (Cambridge: CUP, 1998) pp. 245-72.
A McGrath, Christian Thelogy: An Introduction, fourth ed. (Oxford: Blackwell, 2007) pp. 272-305.