My heart went ahead of me.
There is no substitute for a home. There is a substitute for a house and a car and all the other wonderful and stupid things money can buy, but there is no substitute for a home and no substitute for the friends and family that truly know who you are. When I arrived in Durban airport I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw the two casual looking cops sitting in the entrance with their hats propped up above their heads, neither of them in great shape [the cops I mean, not their hats]. I wondered if they had worked out that it is possible to adjust caps so that they fit properly on your head instead of resting on top of your head. I put it down to local fashion, perhaps I was the unenlightened one. My mind flashed back to a time a couple weeks prior where someone asked me if I wanted to be a cop in South Africa. A cop? I almost asked them if they wanted to be a banana. I figured they also needed to be asked a dum question. But, the truth is I am probably more naive about their country and culture than they are about mine, so I held my tongue and simple said, ‘no’. I grabbed my luggage from the conveyer belt and waited for the sniffer dogs to check that I had left all my drugs behind in France. My parents took a while to arrive, but when they did they arrived with two of my best mates, Chloe and Luke. It is strange how familiar you become with some people. When I saw them it felt as if I hadn’t left at all. It was nice to not have to ask their names or where they came from. It was nice to already know these things. It was nice to not need to ask how they were doing because I could see it in their faces and I hoped they could see it in mine. It was even nicer to have the opportunity to ask how they were anyway.
My friend Dani gave me a card before I left. It has a picture of myself, her and our friend Tam on it and has these colourful buttons stuck around the picture. On the back it says that I must remember that I have friends at home that will miss me and are praying for me. I carried that card for three months in my flipfile as a reminder that I had friends at home that cared about my life. I carried it around until the buttons started falling off it because it reminded me of home. It’s amazing. We are SO civilised. SO progressive. We have honours, masters and doctorate degrees. We have philosophy and Psychology and we have it all figured out, right? And yet when you strip away the intellect we all just long for the same thing – community. I have some friends that are introverts, but even introverts need friends and family. We join country clubs and become locals at bars, we join internet chat forums and spend hours on facebook but we have the universe ‘figured out’, right? …Right? Then, when all the travelling and fussing is done, we spend two minutes in the presence of the ones we truly love and the ones that truly love us and the entire universe dissolves into the background, our entire lives seem to make perfect sense and the questions of our futures seem immediately resolved even though they are not. Meaning. Purpose. Clarity. Direction.
I am so incredibly blessed to have the family and friends that I do. I often wondered why Christianity is so set on the church. Why God chooses the church to fulfill his purposes, why his entire design is the church. Why he calls the church his ‘bride’, the bride of Christ. God is committed and sold out to perfecting us in the context of local community and chooses it as the place where our love is perfected. C.S. Lewis in his book The Scew Tape Letters speaks about our preoccupation with asking the wrong sorts of questions. Our preoccupations with fashions and trends in writing and history and all these things that direct our attention away from the real questions that we should be asking. Questions like ‘Is it Rightious?’ Like I said, we have it all figured out – We have ALL the answers. All the answers to the wrong questions. I have many complex questions, but for the first time in a while I paused to ask a simple one, perhaps a better, more real one. I asked myself where I belong and the answer at that moment was as clear as day: ‘right here’. Because ‘right here’ is where I learn to ask the right questions about life and rightiousness. ‘Right here’ is where I see things clearly, right here in community. My travelling is not over and things didn’t work out this time, but I learned that my relationships are one of the greatest gifts that I have been given and I learned that I have far too much material ‘stuff’ tying me down. I learned these things when I picked up my luggage from that conveyor belt, and found that one parcel was not there. One parcel went ahead of me.
The Cathedral
Today is Sunday, so I figured I would go to church. Find a cathedral or something, Catholic or Morman or whatever the Frenchies call church. It’s cold here. Rainy and very cold. So I roled out of bed, got dressed and ran down the stairs outside and into the building underneath my room where we prepare food, watch TV and drink beer. It’s like a kitchen/lounge but looks more like a cyber cafe. Everyone sets up their laptops, connects to wi-fi and sits there the whole day streaming youtube videos and stuff. There was only one guy up and the owner, so I asked the owner where the nearest church was. I said I was probably the only person that had ever asked for a church. He assured me that I was not in fact the first and said that he had had other “Bible bashers” asking for churches before me. American evangelists. I wanted to explain to him that not all Christians are Bible bashes – some of us use other stuff to hit people like clubs and spades and stuff. But I figured I’d be wasting my time so I listened to his very unsure directions and started my search.
The streets are… cute, for lack of a more manly word. They are small and I think they should be called streetlets. If we had them in SA, some people would get stuck in them. But the Frenchies are all thin, it’s really strange. The girls all look like models and have such style. I haven’t noticed the guys really. I mean, there are guys here… I just haven’t noticed them. I’m sure I would if they were big enough to get stuck in the streetlets though. So today, while I was walking through the streetlets I found my first Cathedral. Tall, proud, majestic, brilliant and… vacant. My hopes of making some good Mormon friends were dashed that minute. I read the sign and made out from the French writing that there was a Saterday service. I might go have a look one saterday, but today is Sunday, so I kept wallking. I found a little Chef in the streetlet, and said: “Parlez-vous anglais?” (Do you speak English). It appeared he did not. I showed him my bible and made a steeple with my hands. He walked away waving his hands and mumbling something then walked back. I wondered if he was chasing away an imaginery Athiest friend so that he could talk to me about church. He said some more gibberish and I made the out the word ‘catholique’, so I figured he was asking what denomintaion I was looking for. I said I would like to find a Morman church preferably, if there was one, but if not perhaps he could point me to just any church he knew of. He put his hands in the air indicating that he had no clue what I was saying, so I continued on my journey just as clueless as before.
France is a strange place. Some people can speak English but they want you to make the effort with them before they make the effort with you. I usually greet them and ask how they are in French, then try persuade them gently to speak English. It sometimes works. They all respond the same way, it goes something like this: Me: “Parlez-vous anglais?” French person: “uh… yes… little beet”. Then you ask them something, like: ” How do I get to the market?” and they reply: “Oh, the market, yes. See this road here? What you want to do is proceed straight along it for about 50 metres until you come to a T-junction, then turn right. It’s on your left!”. “merci” (thank-you), I reply and continue on my way.
So my French leaves much to be desired but I just smile a lot and they don’t seem to mind. The other day I chatted in French to a pretty girl at the supermarket till (Don’t be surprised, there are plenty). I said hello and asked how she was. She said she was well and asked if I spoke English. I attempted “I live in South Africa” in French. Wrond answer. Wrong words. She found it amusing anyway and gave me a smile. Win!
My journey to the Cathedral was about as meandering as this post. Sick with me, I got there eventually and will eventually tell you about it. It was big and bold but I was saddened to find that there were no gargouilles perched outside. I walked inside… more dissapointment – Not a single Mormon in sight AND I had missed the service/meeting/mass, whatever the Mormons call it. Actually, it turned out to be a Catholic Cathedral. Fancy that hey!? It was fantastic. Mother Mary chilling on the wall next to some other saints, a couple comfession boxes and some fantastic archetecture and just old stuff. I like old stuff, a lot! Wooden pews worn down by use and rough brick and mortor lighten up by candles in parallel. The Catholics like candles and that is a good thing becase candles are better than like shoes or something. They all walk around lighting candles and looking at the statues on the wall and drawing imaginary crosses on their chests. I walked around a couple times but wasn’t sure if there was anywhere I was not supposed to walk. It was like being in a museum or something.
I spent a good amount of time in the Cathedral and no-one spoke came ond bothered me or even tried speaking to me while I was there. The sign on the wall assured me (In English surprisingly – must have been imprtant) that this was in fact God’s residence and that I needed to keep quiet. I wondered if God would want everyone tiptoeing around and whisperin if this was in fact his house. I only do that at home when people are sleeping and I sure hope God isn’t sleeping because if he is, the world could end VERY soon and somebody surely better wake him up!
I’ve been on my bunk bed since I’ve been back. It makes the same sound as the doors make in horror movies. At night I hesitate even to reposition my baby toe. But my room is cosy and quiet, unlike the Cyber-Cafe-Kitchen downstairs and it’s still raining downstairs so I figure I will just be an introvert for a while. By ‘a while’ I mean the rest of the day obviously.I didn’t take my camera this morning because of the rain so I do apologise to all my readers. I know that by now I should have had at least a couple photos up. I will make sure I don’t keep you waiting too long. Thank-you again for all your support and prayers. Please leave comments as it helps me stay excited about blogging and also know what you are thinking.
I love you, you’re perfect, now change!
So it’s another year and another 14th February is here and as usual, I’ve been thinking. I don’t like valentines day much, I never have really. My friends say it’s because I don’t have a girlfriend but I don’t think it’s that. I think I would dislike it more if I had a girlfriend. I guess I don’t see how something can be romantic if it’s expected once a year at a specific time. Not that I know what romance is. The closest thing I’ve had to a girlfriend was a girl I liked in about 5th grade. I gave her a decorated spoon once as an expression of my love. Chocolates and roses were out of my price range. It was a nice spoon. I mean, I would have been stoked with it. Apparently she took it on the school camp and actually ate with it – that made my day. Don’t worry, I won’t pull the spoon stunt again, I don’t have any left.
Before I get too distracted, let me talk about what I entended to. The broader topic of todays post is lurv… and some other, more specific stuff. That universal phenomenon that messes up men and womans brains and makes them do stupid stuff like pick flowers to give to each other and stand in the rain without an umbrella. I am an expert on the subject of love, not unlike every other single guy out there. Ask any of us and we will gladly tell you exactly how to go about charming a member of the opposite sex. Anyway, on Thursday (10th Feb), my friend Jane invited me to watch her show. She is a fantastic violinist and a dear friend, so on that evening at 7.15 I made my way up to the Sneddon theatre with my friend Peni to watch the show called ‘I love you you’re perfect now change’. So there we were Peni and I, sitting near the front and getting those ‘couple looks’ from people we’ve never seen before.
It seems to me that society is obsessed with anything to do with love and romance or even the mere prospect of it. Perhaps this is why the show has had such broad and sustained appeal. Perhaps love is so central to our humanity that life without it seems like something less than life, that life without just seems like a meaningless existance that isn’t worth the effort. While the production focuses primarily on romantic love, it is so real, raw and representative of true life, experience and emotion that even the most stubborn viewer cannot help but be moved by it in some sort of way. Be warned – there are a few scenes that may be considered socially ‘awkward’, you may be a little shocked 😉
While science may pass off love as a series of chemical reactions, there is something in the depth of my being that bleives it to be more. A seemingly a priori beleif that the essence of love transcends mere physics and sometimes even the building blocks of logic. Although my experience of romantic love is limited, it is not so far removed that I cannot understand it, or am unfamiliar with it’s appeal. But today I refer to love in the broader sense of the word, not just the romantic aspect of it. Like every person in this world, I have known all too well it’s enemy, loneliness. I say this not to evoke any form of pity or concern from the reader but only to express openly the limits of my own humanity and the beleif that we are all in the same boat. I beleive that at certain periods throughout life, every person experiences loneliness. A loneliness that is often independent even of our relationship status. It seems to me that if you are human there will be times that you will undoubtedly be lonely and that this loneliness will drive you in some direction. For some this drive will lead to true companionship, for others emptiness and despair. For some this loneliness will lead to alcohol and drugs, but for a few, this loneliness will lead to the questioning of the foundations of whatever it is that we put our faith in. With that in mind, lets talk about the show a little bit.
According to my ‘mate’ wikipedia, ‘I love you you’re perfect now change’ is the second longest running Off-broadway musical. I have no clue what that really means but I think it’s kind of a big deal. They even made a chinese version (I found it very funny), so check that out on youtube if you are bored. And if Chinese doesn’t tickle your fancy, they have also translated it into Hebrew, Spanish, Dutch, Hungarian, Czech, Japanese, Korean, Italian, Portuguese, German, Catalan, Finnish and Mandarin. The show is very much about the behind-the-scenes truths regarding love, marriages, relationships, child-rearing and everything in between. It deals with a lot of stuff that most people might think or experience, but seldom if ever, talk about openly. Although I would never go watch a show like this normally (because as you know, I’m an expert on love already), it turned out to be quite funny, and Jane shredded that violin as usual. I must confess though, I could have done without the whiny American accents (I’m not sure why they decided to keep these). It was a nice surprise to see my friend Jessica Sole acting, she is the young lady on the left of the picture above. Jess has pure talent running through her veins and sings and acts at a level far beyond her age. Go support her if you ever get the chance.
BUT… they didn’t pay me to advertise for them so thats all I’m saying about that for now. I want to talk about the one thing that really stood out to me, a song Jess sings regarding her loneliness called ‘I will be loved tonight’:
Well, pop the champagne, break out the cologne; turn up the moonlight and turn off the phone. Well, what a surprise, a man is in sight; and I will be loved tonight. To fondle his skin, to savor his lips; to nuzzle his chin, to movie with his hips. our words will be soft as we softly ignite; and I will be loved tonight.
You can go from week to week, you can go from year to year; not a hand placed on your cheek, not a whisper in your ear. You can make it through okay, you can live and laugh, and flirt. It’s quite easy in the day; its just the nights that always hurt. So let darkness come, ’cause that will be fine; for I’ll have a soul entangled in mine. We’ll do as we please, and please… hold me tight. For I will be loved, I will be loved. Yes, I will be loved tonight.
The audience went very quiet for this one. The character’s song speaks of the need for affection and the loneliness that she feels on a day to day, even year to year basis when she is deprived of that affection (It is suggestive of sexual intimacy). To give some perspective, the play looks at love through a secularist world view, regarding pre-marital sex as the norm. But because the mojority of Western society today no longer views sex before marriage as taboo as they once did, it didn’t surprise me. Sex that is confined only to the marriage convenant is most often considered ‘old fashioned’ now days and reserved for those of particular religious leanings. What surprises me is that in a show so reflective of modern Westen culture, the character’s song equates the physicality she describes to love even though many who adopt a secularist perspective will very often seperate the two, beleiving that physicality and love can exist independently of each other. I have come to beleive that this is seldom, if ever actually possible.
One unfortunate repercussion of a perspective that regards sexual intimacy as such a socially accepted part of dating is that the fine line between love and lust becomes blurred. In a society where commitment is a non-priority, there is no regulation of desire and self-control is the first thing that goes out of the window. We talk about sexual intimacy as a ‘need’ that needs to be satisfied, like hunger or thirst, and by doing so we are able to legitimise not only our actions but our lack of concern for the emotional well-being of the other. Our fears of loneliness are temporarily put at bay for a time (‘So let darkness come, ’cause that will be fine; for I’ll have a soul entangled in mine.’), but we wake up with an extra problem – we now need to ‘untangle’ the two souls that have been tangled, and unless you have been desensitised by years of practice, this is almost certainly going to hurt emotionally. I read research during my studies to indicate that the emotional damage from casual sexual relations after they are terminated is negligable, I don’t beleive this. You might say that I only don’t beleive this because I have a Christian world view that influences my decisions and you would be right, but only partially right – it would not be the whole truth. I beleive it because I have yet to find it inconsistent with what I have seen in the lives of friends and others around me who have used sex as currency in the light of non-commitment and are now, as a result, left to feel far lonelier than I. Switchfoot write a song regarding this, and I have always loved the words. It’s called ‘easier than love’. Here are most of the lyrics (minus a few ‘la la la la’s):
Sex is currency
She sells cars,
She sells magazines
Addictive bittersweet, clap your hands,
with the hopeless nicotines
Everyone’s a lost romantic,
Since our love became a kissing show
Everyone’s a Casanova,
Come and pass me the mistletoe
Everyone’s been scared to death of dying here alone
She is easier than love
Is easier than life
It’s easier to fake and smile and bribe
It’s easier to leave
It’s easier to lie
It’s harder to face ourselves at night
Feeling alone,
What have we done?
What is the monster we’ve become?
Where is my soul?
Numb
Sex is industry,
The CEO, of corporate policy
Skin-deep ministry,
Suburban youth, hail your so-called liberty
Every advertising antic,
Our banner waves with a neon glow
War and love become pedantic,
We wage love with a mistletoe
Everyone’s been scared to death of dying here alone
She is easier than love
Is easier than life
It’s easier to fake and smile and bribe
It’s easier to leave
It’s easier to lie
It’s harder to face ourselves at night
Feeling alone,
What have we done?
What is the monster we’ve become?
Where is my soul?
It’s easier to love,
It’s easier to love
She is easier than love,
It’s easier to love
Everyone’s been scared to death of,
Everyone’s been scared to death of,
Everyone’s been scared to death of dying here alone,
alone
Sex is easier than love,
It’s easier than love,
It’s easier to fake and smile and brag
It’s easier to leave,
It’s easier to lie,
It’s harder to face ourselves at night
Feeling alone,
What have we done?
What is the monster we’ve become?
Where is my soul? (Where is my?)
Where is my soul?
Before we get to far removed from the real topic of this post, I’d like to say that my intention is not to speak about sexual intimacy in it’s own right, or even the pure desire for companionship. I would like to speak of it in relation to it’s ability to very temporarily fix a greater, deeper problem. What I would like to suggest is that perhaps in many cases we are using the wrong medicine to fix the problem. Sex is not a ‘need’ you see, those that remain celebate do not die because they do not have sex. Sometimes our anxiety in the face of life’s obstacles leads us to comfort eat, but it isn’t food that we need, it is a way to get over those obstacles. So while I beleive that both our desire for intimacy (yes, even sexual intimacy) and our desire for companionship are both natural, legitimate and even God given, I also beleive that sometimes the inner ache of loneliness points to something greater than the most intimate of human relationships. I beleive it points to a need of the soul for meaning and acceptance. I want to be as bold as to suggest that often our loneliness points to our need for God and a love that only he can give. Often, I beleive, it points to our need to look beyond our small introspective lives towards our greater purpose and place in this world.
So this valentines day I challenge you to start to think about your life and situation. Some of us may be in a relationship and feel just as lonely as your friend who has been single his/her whole life. Some of us might choose to use our bodies as currency to earn affection and acceptance, even if we know that tomorrow night or next week we’ll be back in the same dark, lonely place experiencing the same grief. Some of us will simply accept that loneliness as much a part of our lives as the many other things we cannot change. But my hope is that many of us will begin to realise that the hunger we feel is perhaps not what we thought it was. My hope is that we will learn that perhaps we have been treating the symptoms rather than the cause and that we will learn to direct our attention to a God who is far greater than us and our problems. A God whose love does not depend on our performance or effort, not on our goodness but on His own. I have found this love in Christ and learnt that even in singleness I can be complete. I do not claim to be ‘cured’ of loneliness, only that I beleive to have found it’s purpose. Perhaps I can let it drive me towards the God who gives me direction, purpose, meaning and fulfilment. Perhaps I can let it drive me away from myself and selfishness towards a calling that transcends me and perhaps in the process, just perhaps, my selfish fixation on being loved can be redeemed and transformed into a selfless love for life and for others. For I have learnt that God does not love us, tell us we are perfect and then expect us to change. He loves us perfectly, and in that place of being loved, we cannot help but change.
(*Ravi Zacharias does a four part series entitled ‘The Inner Ache of Lonliness’. I have found it to be very helpful and strongly recommend that you have a listen, so click here for that. You won’t regret it. As a final note, I would like to emphasise that these idea’s are my own – unless otherwise specified. They are by no means an attack on any person or perspective. I would love to chat with you if your ideas are different. As we grow and learn, it important and even biblical that we test often our taken for granted beleifs and assumptions on subjects, and are always willing to learn.)
Thoughts and ideas
I listened to a band a lot when I was younger called MxPx. They are a punk band from somewhere out in America who cracked a record deal before they graduated from high school. I used to think they were cool. So that meant they said cool stuff and did cool things and in some ways I wanted to be just like them. They had a song called ‘thoughts and ideas’. It was so fast I couldn’t think anything really and had no idea what they were on about. I ‘dug’ up the lyrics using my nifty google tab on the top right of my screen and took a look. The lyrics go like this:
Are you intellectual? Do you really think you’re in control? You know what you beleive, illogical, but you can’t perceive what are we doing here? Our lives aren’t even worth a can of beer. If the absolute does not exist, you’re just another numbers on a list. You refuse to take someone elses thoughts and ideas. It might point out your mistakes, then you’ll have to change your criteria. Take the time to reflect the status quo before you reject the opportunities given you. How can there be an issue of morality? If nothing is absolute, everything is relative.
Yea yea, I know weird little punk kids, who would listen to them anyway, right? They just all about politics and ra ra ra capitalism, consumerism, I’m an individual, stuff the government bla bla bla. But anyway, it got me thinking. Now I don’t like religious debate really. All the Athiest or Agnostic intellectual kids run off to philosophy class and tell their arguments and everyone agree’s. All the Christian kids run off to church and preach and everyone agree’s. And It’s great singing with the choir. You know, unity and all, but put them together, oh then there is trouble. Them Christian kids start shooting guns and throwing knives while their atheist and agnostic mates plot out their arguments on pieces of paper I would quite honestly rather use for doodling. Tempers flaire, people cut each other down and then everyone goes home feeling siff. It becomes a battle of the intellect and of pride, winner takes all, loser feels dum. No one really wins, some people just feel better about themselves, others feel worse. And I kinda think we’ve missed the point here. Are we trying to validate ourselves? Or are we really… I mean really, searching for the truth?
There is a writer guy a like called Donald Miller. In a book he wrote called ‘blue like Jazz’ he says: “Sooner or later you just figure out there are some guys who don’t believe in God and they can prove He doesn’t exist, and there are some other guys who do believe in God and they can prove He does exist, and the argument stopped being about God a long time ago and now it’s about who is smarter, and honestly I don’t care.”
I got into a ‘religious debate’ with a guy the other day. Well, not really, but kind of. He told me very proudly that he is Pagan but couldn’t really explain what exactly that is. He comes from a Christian family but has chosen a different world view. I didn’t like him much. He said nasty stuff every chance he got. We were with others at a table in a bar and I took a few cheap shots at him. I mean I didn’t go out of my way, but I took the opportunity to use the stupid stuff he said against him. Afterwards I had to tell him I was sorry. It wasn’t an adequate apology, but it was sincere. The mood changed and we shared our experiences about life and spirituality. One girl wouldn’t speak about Christianity with me. She said it always led to an argument. I assured her I did not want to argue (I’d calmed down by then). I just wanted to hear her… you know. sincerely listen. And I did. She’s a lovely girl, smart and pretty. And if she wanted me to talk, then sure, I would talk and I would give her a reason for the hope I have. Because I’ve started to realise that Miller is right about all this stuff. The argument stopped being about God a long time ago and started being about ourselves. It started being about winning and about sounding clever, but not about listening and loving and actually really caring about the other person. That went out the window the moment we confused truth for a product that we need to sell to all the ‘stubborn consumers’ we spend our lives with. I no longer want to be a salesperson and treat God like he is a product that I need to sell. I wont sell you my Mom or Dad either, but I will tell you why I love them and perhaps one day you could meet them yourself.
I have mates that I really like. They are funny and really great to hang out with. Sometimes we debate stuff. Mostly stupid stuff, but I find that they seldom listen. I mean really, properly listen. I laugh sometimes because I think I’m right and I have really good reasons for thinking that, but I know that even if I was Aristotle and my arguments were constructed with the brick and cement of pure logic, my friends would not hear me. I’ve learnt that mostly people just say whatever they have to to support the beleif they already hold. I mean I do it too, Often. People don’t want to hear that they are wrong because we all just always want to be right. There is a well known paraple told by Jesus about a rich man and Lazarus. Lazarus was a poor, sick dude that dies and goes to heaven. The ‘rich man’ (He isn’t given a name so we’ll just call him ‘Rich’) lives a luxurious and comfortable life, then dies and goes to Hell. So ‘ol Laz is parking cheesy with Abraham in air-conditioned heaven having a good time and Rich can see them both there from his burning house in hell. Now we not talking desert hot here, we’re talking worse than your thatch-roofed house burning down and you stuck inside with no fire extinguisher. So Rich asks Abraham to send his mate Laz down with water on his finger to cool his tongue because he’s in so much pain. So Abe reckons “bru, you lived well during your life, but Laz here suffered. Now the tables have turned – he’s comforted, you are suffering. Besides, we can’t reach you, there is a giant chasm between us.” So Rich in his despair asks Abe to send Laz back to earth to warn his 5 brothers so that they will not suffer the same torment as him when they die. Abe replies “Bru, they have Moses and the prophets and if they don’t listen to them, then they not gonna listen to Laz, even if he is raised from the dead.”
Rich and his five brothers remind me of myself sometimes. I’ve been thinking about these lyrics specifically: “You refuse to take someone elses thoughts and ideas. It might point out your mistakes, then you’ll have to change your criteria.” See I like my idea’s. They make me right! Your ideas might make me wrong, then I have to come up with another clever way to be right again. It’s just easier for me to reject you before I’ve heard a word you have to say. Sometimes I wish I was one of the guys that met Jesus when he walked the earth, I know I’d be a changed man. I’d listen closely to all his weird stories. The Bible says the crowds that listened were amazed at him because he spoke like someone who had authority. Not like the wishy-washy teachers they knew. He really sincerely meant the stuff he said, yet he was humble enough to hear the stories of the men and woman around him. Jesus wasn’t ‘selling’ anything. He just spoke about the stuff he beleived in, and he spoke in a way that led people to listen. He was emphatic about the things he spoke about sure, but he was always gentle and always kind and very gracious. He just couldn’t help but love people, all people. If he was walking around Durbz today he’d be hitting a Johnnies rotti with guys you and I wouldn’t touch with a 6 metre pole. That’s just who he is.
When I spoke to the blonde girl at the table, I asked her if she really knew anything about Jesus. I told her if she wanted to solve an argument between two of her friends, it would help to hear both sides of the story before she made up her mind. She doesn’t owe me that. If we really are searching for truth, I mean really trying to uncover the truth about life, then each of us owe ourselves that. Jesus is not a character out of a Harry Potter novel. He didn’t study with the elite witches at Hogwarts and become their headboy. He’s not the nerdy guy that most people chucked paper balls at in high school. He’s wasn’t head of his debating class either. Trust me on this, he’s very likely not the person you’ve been taught or made to beleive he is. But one thing I do know. If you had a chat with Jesus, he would listen. You would not feel like he is some guy from an infomercial trying to sell you the latest food processor. He would listen to you carefully, and then he would respond. He would use your name and in his words and tone would be the unmistakable invitation for you to both speak and listen as well, and the unmistakable freedom to choose or reject him.
The only constant is change… and Coca-Cola
Travelling forces you to make a lot of decisions about stuff. Some of them are big and important (like… do I learn French if I’m going to France?), and some of them… well… not so much. I suppose today’s decision falls into the later category. the questions is, ‘What do I do with my unusual collection of ‘stuff’?’
When I was young I collected coca-cola stuff. I didn’t care what it was really, if it had a coca-cola logo on it, it was a collectors item to me. I also collected other stuff that I found collectable. By collectable, I meant anything that had variation. Yes, that meant pretty much anything. I collected matchboxes, pens, atamps and your grannies’ tea cosies. But, unlike the others, I managed to keep up the Coca-cola collection for quite some time. I suppose I found it interesting because there is always something new with Coca-cola. The problem with this unusual fettish was that emptying out the garbage can onto my shelf was not my mothers idea of fun (as you can imagine). But over time my mother gradually warmed up to the idea that my sparkly and colourful cans were worth far more than the dust that they collected. Yes, of course I am joking. A can is a can, and dust is dust. So my collection of assorted cans, bottles and other ‘stuff’ was doomed to suffer the same fate that it had originally been rescued from – disposal.
A few years ago I downsized my can collection at my mothers request. But today the end is imminent. So before my mom could end my life with that wooden broomstick she keeps in the kitchen cupboard, I decided to take a few cellphone snap shots of my childhood pride, to show my readers. Here are a few pics. Ja, I don’t care if you think it’s boring, go read someone elses blog on gardening or something.
Ok, so… we all know the price of stuff goes up. But hows this for ‘inflation’.
R2 for a can of coke? I almost can’t beleive this was in my life time! So… A little bit of political turbulance, affirmative action and crime, and everyone is set to leave the country. Their loss. At least you can still get a can of coke elsewhere… if you know what to look for. Here is some help:
Still confused? Ask Father Christmass for a can (who just by the way, only happens to be red because of Coca-cola”’ marketing. Before they intervened, he was green).
And just by the way, what the heck happened to Vanilla Coke? I actually liked that stuff!
Anyways… after I got through all my cans, it turned out I had very little of real collective value. Besides maybe this truck my uncle gave me (each of the little crates comes out of the side and has individual Coke’s in them)…
A couple ties…
and this bottle my friends mom gave me. The Coke in this bottle is probably close on 20 years old.
But Coke doesn’t mature like wine, And cans dont rust any less when they are out of the trash can. So in the end, my childhood treasure turned out to be a pile of useless rubbish that only I could add value to. It’s a little bit like what God does for us. But unlike God, I chuck my rubbish back into the garbage can that I saved it from. I am grateful that He doesn’t. Goodbye Coca-cola collection. Turns out my life is easier without you.
A journey of a thousand miles... 