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.

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

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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.

the greatest song ever

I had been planning to take a break from the lofty thinking and compose a top ten of the year. But it got annoying. And I've still got Bon Iver and Kate Rusby on repeat from last year anyway. So, in lieu of being able to make any kind of decision, I have at least come to one realisation recently.

The most perfect song I've ever heard? It's not Crash Into Me. Nor is it bluegrass or acoustic-alternative. It's not even at the other end of the spectrum in rock-land. Instead, oozing passion and soul from every pore, plus a kick-ass bassline, it's this.

doctrine #4 - humanity

What does the meaning of ‘Original Sin’ imply for Christian engagement with the societies we inhabit?

The biblical truths that we are created by God, both imago Dei and imago trinitus* logically lead us to perfect examples for us to aim toward – both in the perfect man (Jesus), and the perfect relationship (the Trinitarian Godhead.) We therefore have, according to Kevin Vanhoozer, three ethical imperatives: to aim for righteousness, to work and steward creation, and to rest and feast (Gunton, 165.) However, in realising that “…all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” (Romans 3:23) surely we must also accept that this is a hypothetical – and one we are doomed to miss.

But consider the Pelagian controversy (McGrath, 362-8.) As humans we are used to choice: what to wear, what to eat, who to talk to, what to buy. Choosing how to act or to relate to people falls naturally into the linear stream of decisions we make – and so, when society keeps inconveniently plumping for the most negative option every time, as Christians we find ourselves either peering down from our ivory towers in despair, or - if we dare admit it – languishing in a pit of self-pity, beating our chests in realization that surely we will never be good enough, different enough, strong enough. Pelagius taught that choose equally between good and evil. However, Augustine of Hippo disputed that this is simply not the case. Because of Original Sin, we are beings limited in our free will by our inherently sinful natures. We cannot, as Pelagius believed, just choose goodness – our stained hearts are not capable. In truth, as Luther insisted (McGrath, 374) “God is active, and humans are passive, in justification.” We are justified purely “by grace through faith” – a perspective, which when applied to how we view society around us, might not only aid us in relating to those we would seek to save, but might just help us save ourselves.


Bibliography
Holy Bible, New International Version (London: Hodder & Staughton, 1998)
K Vanhoozer, ‘Human being, individual and social’ in C Gunton, (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Christian Doctrine, (Cambridge: CUP, 1998) pp. 158-88.
A McGrath, Christian Thelogy: An Introduction, fourth ed. (Oxford: Blackwell, 2007) pp348-74.

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*Editor's note: I couldn't find a succinct enough definition of this to link to, so I will quickly highlight that this term refers to "the image of the trinity" - and therefore, that we are not only created in God's image, but furthermore in the image of the trinitiarian relationship. So although human relationships cannot compare, through the process of sanctification our relations to each other, and more fundamentally to God, will grow to reflect how the three 'forms' of the trinity relate to each other - that relationship being perfection.

doctrine #3 - creation

Question: How does a Christian’s understanding of creation affect her/his relationship with the created order and their efforts to understand it?

Creation can often be seen as the single most divisive doctrine between rational, contemporary society and the outmoded, misinformed Christian faith. However, my most focused point of reflection this week is that this division itself is a misconception. On examination, the simple theological truth is that Christian creation gives us the Why, but never actually lays claim to the How. (Although, it should be said, history shows that the church of the past and present may have claimed to have all the answers, but digging itself into this particular hole was perhaps as much precipitated by the rush to defying heresies and threats to growth.)

However, though the Bible cannot give all the answers, it can still claim to proclaim the truth – a truth manifest in all things. For all that God created was good – a statement at odd with everything from ancient Greek philosophy to Gnosticism, which recognized matter as inherently evil (Gunton, 143.) The Hebraic creation story** differs greatly from its contemporaries: here, we have a single deity creating order out of chaos, whilst simultaneously remaining both unconfined and entirely separate from it. This is not an enforced, dualistic separation though. Yes, God created and did so from nothing: but again, Christianity differs from other faiths. God is not withdrawn and absent from His creation; no, our God is in relationship with, transcendent over and immanent in His creation – with Christ as the ultimate proof of this relationship between God and man, according to T.F. Torrance (Gunton, 154).

Moreover, the concept of ex nihilo enhances further this sense of purpose, for if God created something from nothing as an action of personal will, it must logically therefore have a purpose. Any issue between persons and/or creation must therefore be viewed in light of God’s purpose in redemption and perfection of all creation, and so - to paraphrase Spiderman - from that great power comes great responsibility for all of us as part of that created order.


Bibliography
C Gunton, ‘The Doctrine of Creation’ in C. Gunton, (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Christian Doctrine, (Cambridge: CUP, 1998), pp. 141-57.

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** Editor's note: I was going to link to Wikipedia here for 'Hebraic Creation', but discovered that Wikipedia, like many sources, makes an assumption which I believe to be mistaken - that Genesis 1 and 2 are part of the same narrative. Many theologians would argue that the first and second chapters are, in fact, different versions of the same story - evidenced by how much they seem to overlap. Therefore, the first account ends at Gen. 2:3, and the second begins at Gen. 2:4 ("This is the account of the heavens and the earth..." (NIV)) It has been put forward that as the Old Testament canon was put together by Hebrew leaders, this first account was actually a late addition, a prologue added for clarity, as it was felt that the Gen. 2 account did not emphasise strongly enough God's hand in creating every single individual part of creation (it focuses mainly on the creation of man.)

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doctrine #2 - the trinity

Question: How has the concept of the Trinity in Christianity affected relations with other monotheistic faiths?

In considering and reflecting on this question, it seems prudent to identify the two other major monotheistic faiths as Islam and Judaism – both of which consider Christian Trinitarian doctrine heretical, and therefore a severe stumbling block to relations at this level.

Islam apparently focuses on Deuteronomy 6:4 (McGrath, 247), where the Hebrew God clearly indicates that the Lord is one. The assumption is, therefore, that by proposing that Jesus and the Spirit are both God also, Christians accept a tritheistic stance. However, this assumption is obviously flawed and counter to accepted theology: Tertullian, in particular, hammered out the axiom that the Trinitus is made up of three personae with unius substantae.

For Judaism, the Christian Trinity has an immediate heresy: that of recognizing Christ as the Son, and therefore the Messiah. Interestingly though, the Law and the Prophets – that is, the Old Testament Scriptures – lay down firm foundations for Trinitarian Doctrine (McGrath, 248; De Colle, 122) through three personifications of the God of the Hebrews: the personification of Wisdom (especially in Job, Proverbs etc.), active in creation; the Word of God, going forth into the world to confront man throughout the OT; and the Spirit of God, His presence and power within creation. If only Judaism paid heed to the Johannic Logos – where that very same “Word became flesh and dwelt amongst us” (John 1:14) they might recognise Jesus for what He was – begotten of the Father, who with that same Father and the Spirit make up our triune, paradoxical Godhead.



Bibliography
R De Colle, ‘The Triune God’ in C Gunton, (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Christian Doctrine, (Cambridge: CUP, 1998), pp. 243-71.
A McGrath, Christian Thelogy: An Introduction, fourth ed. (Oxford: Blackwell 2007) pp. 243-71.

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doctrine #1 - scripture

Since September I've been dropping in at Belfast Bible College once a week, invading a degree course module called Framework of Christian Thought. It's been a bit mind-blowing so far: a rapid fire journey through the histories and philosophies which modern churches hold dear/are founded on/denounce each other over (delete as appropriate.)

Anyway, as part of the study we're required to submit weekly reflections on each topic. Rather than trying to condense down an overall reaction to each week's tutorials, I decided early on to make the personal reflections exactly as described - a personal reaction, where I would reflect primarily on the points which had struck me the most, on a heavily personal level. I was a little concerned that I might be off down the wrong path completely - but happily, the tutor marking them has been giving great feedback so far.

To make up for the lack of meaningful blogging of late, I thought it would be interesting to begin dripping these online every few days - I do like a good stir. They're obviously heavily contextual, but I've attempted to include as much linkage as possible to allow the discerning reader/debater/firestarter (delete as appropriate) to get involved. I'm calling the series doctrine, but not in an attempt to bear any relation to the Mark Driscoll tome of the same name (though it might end up counterpointing that one as much as complementing. Certainly, this'll be an awful lot more succinct!)

One further note: the set texts for the course are cited and linked to at the bottom of this article. The Colin Gunton book is a bit dense, but Christian Theology: An Introduction by Alister McGrath is a fabulously easy-to-read textbook covering all the major aspects of Christian doctrine. I heavily recommend it to anyone wanting to ever debate anything with me ever again, believer or otherwise.

As will be apparent, these reflections are incredibly short. More space for arguing in the comment section afterwards, I reckon.

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doctrine #1: scripture

Question: What role does Scripture have in God’s ongoing revelation to the world?

Francis Watson indicates (Gunton, 65) that the primary access to testimony of God is through his revelation in Scripture - and, therefore, that the reading and interpretation of Scripture must be theology's primary task. Whilst this makes a lot of sense, there is also an immediate danger in setting this thinking up as rigid parameters in isolation - namely, that our understanding of God will rely entirely on text. I therefore believe that John Wesley was on to something with his eponymous Quadrilateral (McGrath, 146): that our theology must be sourced on a grouping of Scripture, tradition, reason and personal experience. And though I would hold that Scripture takes a strong primacy, we should not attempt to explore it in a manner divorced from the other three.

In constructing our personal theological hermeneutic (Gunton, 71) it really is important to avoid the traditional OT/NT divide in interpretive structures. I personally hope to angle towards the “new hermeneutic”, attempting to read Scripture through the magnifying glass of Christ, and therefore the idea that the entirety of Scripture is therefore Christocentric. A reassuring implication of this to me is that it offers some relief in the challenge of interpretation. That is to say, if Biblical hermeneutics is concerned with using the light of the clear to interpret the murky, one can now approach the whole of Scripture using the testimony of the Gospels to illuminate God’s ongoing revelation through the canon.

Bibliography
F Watson, ‘The Scope of Hermeneutics’ in C Gunton, (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Christian Doctrine, (Cambridge University Press, 1998), pp. 65-80.
A McGrath, Christian Thelogy: An Introduction, fourth ed. (Blackwell 2007) pp. 121-152.

breaking the mould

At the moment we're going through one of those (suprisingly frequent) times of upheaval at the moment; the family homestead is being vacated and I seem to be spending all waking hours working at wardrobes/drawers/shelves/light fittings/loft flooring (delete as appropriate); I've started a day a week at BBC (no, not that one) - more on that soon; and, after a stall on funding at my previous post, I've been back freelancing for a month on and off. And it's the latter of these things that is in my mind tonight, as I clear out much of the clutter in what has been our home office for the best part of a quarter century.

On the back wall, above a bookcase full of my VHS collection, remain stuck three pieces of paper, which were assembled during my PGCE year as mementos. One is a thank-you card from a secondary school class, the other a picture drawn for me by a seven year old - deluded people, perhaps. However, the third is maybe more unusual: a small, yellowed rectangle of newsprint, torn from a copy of The Guardian I had picked up in a cafe.

From a column called My Mentor, the Children's Laureate Michael Rosen - he of the legendary We're Going On A Bear Hunt - recalls a teacher who inspired him.

The secondary school I went to was a pretty dull and staid place until Barry Brown, a new English teacher showed up. He was just out of university and can't have been more than 22, which made a change. He came from Manchester - this was Harrow in the 50s, we hadn't even heard of Manchester - and he wore dark brown suede shoes, had longish hair over his ears, put his feet up on the desk and walked down the corridors with his hands in his pockets. There were all these rumours flying around about affairs he was having, which added to his kudos.

My parents were both teachers and so I'd been read to a lot and taken to the theatre so I wouldn't say that he sparked a love of literature in me, that was already there, but he felt dangerous and subversive. He would start off a lesson quite conventionally, perhaps reading round the class but would interrupt us, encouraging us to read with expression. Then you could see him getting bored and he would suddenly throw the book at someone. He was provocative and off the wall. He would pace the room and use it like a stage.

He would come into the classroom and, like all teachers of the time, be wearing a gown, except his would be all wrapped up around his shoulders like a shawl. Schoolboys were always complaining about how cold the classrooms were but teachers would tell us it was good for us, made us healthy. Barry Brown would come into the class and say, "This room is freezing!" and kick the radiators, which made it feel like he was on our side.

I remember once he was on the way out of the class and stopped and said, "Oh homework tonight, write a ballad about Robin Hood," and left the room. We were all left looking at one another, shrugging our shoulders. I went home and my mum and I sat at the kitchen table writing this ballad about Robin Hood and it was just great fun. I was desperately keen to please him, to write things and show him them and he was enthusiastic in his response. He put on plays in the school and encouraged us to join in, even taking parts himself and just generally creating an excitement in us all.

It wasn't that he was imparting great pearls of wisdom, but simply that he presented himself in a way that was completely different from anyone else I'd ever met. From him I glimpsed that there are different paths in life you can go along, that you don't have to plod along the well-trodden path, and at 11 years old, that was hugely exciting. Looking back, there are lots of people who go into the mix, who influence who you eventually become, and he stands out as someone who sowed seeds and helped me grow.

(Taken from Guardian.co.uk.)

For many people of a certain age, it would seem everyone had that one teacher like this - the maverick guy who seemed to rail against how he was supposed to do it, and instead won loyalty through the inspired, or random, or compelling methods they used combined with their unique personalities. At the time, this was exactly the kind of teacher I wanted to be.

A few years on now, and every time I find myself at an employment crossroads, the inevitable is asked: why not give teaching another stab? I fumble through several, reasonably honest, excuses: I found the curriculum, particularly GCSE English, mind-blowingly pointless and stressful; the workplace politics in some schools a little intimidating; difficult pupils hard to relate to. Fundamentally, I was frustrated with the paradox that yes, many teachers do little and get on fine, but that in order to be a great teacher, you needed to work your ass off. "But if you're this stressed, just do enough to get by," some might say. But I couldn't live with myself if I didn't do the best I could.

However, tonight I sit and wonder if all of these do, in truth, pale in comparison with a realisation I have had as I reread Michael Rosen's tale from above. Barry Brown sounds like exactly the type of teacher I wanted to be - but after a year of teaching, I think what I discovered most was that in our society today, this would never be possible. And for all that is changing in life and our culture today, I cannot think of many things sadder.

above and beyond

I used to complain profusely about my vertigo when required to go and fiddle with cables and such in the gantry at the Odyssey Arena. This guy, on the other hand...

See more funny videos and TBT Videos at Today's Big Thing.

sudan365

In January, the people of Southern Sudan go to the polls, in a referendum to decide whether the war/poverty-torn country should remain as one, or become two separate recognised states. It could bring peace; but it could equally end up in even more violence. Very few people are really informed enough to know, and the Sudan365 campaign is an attempt to rectify that by drawing attention to the (still) ongoing plight of Africa - and the Arab world's - largest country.

As always, it's questionable how much impact lots of middle-class Westerners wringing their hands can really have on a situation where tensions - political and tribal - remain so high. But at least we can keep pressure on the UN to do the right thing and be ready to deal with whatever outcome early next year.

And to keep it in the public mind, here's one of those videos where lots of musicians from lots of places do something funky. John Bourke would approve this message.

what i am

I have a rant about BEP's megahit I Gotta Feeling. It's the same as the Transformers one, only with less Shia LeBoeuf (Even Stevens was his peak. Should've retired from acting after that.) Ironic, then, that I'm about to applaud marketing genius Will.i.am for doing a great thing, and in this instance, selling an incredibly important message to d'kids. Well done, sir.

it's a book!

I haven't blogged since May. There are various, pointless reasons for this. But instead of letting me bore you with that, enjoy this instead. (h/t to @commentisfree and @heathercorinna.)

things i learnt #2: overarm bowling

Again age 12, but this time Games (separate from PE!) and Overarm Bowling.

Now, you might think, hold on - I thought you said we were discussing things used on a regular basis? But bear with me.

So, part of my current profession is to teach children useful things. The joy of working in the voluntary sector when approaching this, as opposed to my previous deviation in the teaching one, is that these things are actually Useful Things (as opposed to observing osmosis in rods of potato, or how to read the top quartile of a bell curve.)

This year, it has included everything from Where Plants Come From, through How To Make Paper Airplanes, to How To Climb A Wire Fence To Get To The Football Pitch. (Don't ask, don't tell.) And so, since Easter I've been turning up weekly at a local primary school (which, I must say, is arguably one of the best in all the land) to play Kwik Cricket with the P5-P7s. And in last week's session, I began passing on, almost verbatim, the principles of overarm bowling, which have stuck with me since third year of secondary school.

Now, it may surprise most people to find out that I'm not much of a sportsman. However, the joy of turning up to a school with the Children's Worker hat on is that it is automatically assumed you are an expert on everything. But let me tell you - whilst this might facilitate easier ways to get out of arguments ("Why?" "Because.") it does come with the caveat that you need to make sure you actually are right - for it shall come back to bite you on the backside. So, as the self-appointed cricketing guru, I've been relying mostly on the fact that I can, at least, bowl a decent fast-medium ball over a good length. And there's a couple of tricks, learnt all those years ago, that have helped ensure this - both at the start of the movement.

Firstly, get that second arm up. As you wind up and release, that arm needs to go straight down the line where you want to bowl, and you need to be looking behind and through it before you release. This makes a massive difference when you uncoil, as it makes sure that your shoulders are in line as your bowling arm comes over the top of your head.

Secondly, "bite the apple", as the original teacher in question insisted again and again. Don't hold the ball somewhere around your chest before your unwind - get it right up beside your mouth so you can smell it. That initial push forward your bowling hand makes whenever you release will therefore add power as the ball makes its journey down past your waist.

And thirdly, release at two - o'clock that is. A lot of the kids I've worked with so far let it go whenever their arm is perpendicular - possibly as an unfortunate product of one of the drills I've been using for fielding, which resembled something for tennis ball boys. Alternatively, you don't want to be releasing too late either, or it'll go straight in to the ground - a problem I'm having currently as I try to learn how to bowl right handed (being a natural southpaw). Two o'clock, at full stretch when you release, and that ball is going right down the batsman's throat. Howzat?