functionally dysfunctional

Much of this article struck me as being relevent to pastors, too.

the young gatsby's struggles

But his heart was in a constant, turbulent riot. The most grotesque and fantastic conceits haunted him in his bed at night. A universe of ineffable gaudiness spun itself out in his brain while the clock ticked on the wash-stand and the moon soaked with wet light his tangled clothes upon the floor. Each night he added to the pattern of his fancies until drowsiness closed down upon some vivid scene with an oblivious embrace. For a while these reveries provided an outlet for his imagination; they were a satisfactory hint of the unreality of reality, a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy's wing.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, p.79

the great songs (xxv) - the cutter

What sadness attends this final post in the series! But The Cutter by Echo & The Bunnymen almost makes me want to start a sub-genre: songs I'd love to sing on a karaoke night. (Just for the record, I've never been to one....)

There are lots of reasons I'm including this here. The sheer energy of the playing; grand, but not grandiose. The singing that just about stays this side of histrionic, pummeling the emotions out of their shell. And the intriguing lyrics: will I still be soiled when the dirt is off? Hmm.

They had a great run of singles in the mid 80s - I first sat up and took notice with the charting of The Back Of Love and fell head over heels in love with The Killing Moon (which would be a worthy substitute for The Cutter - check out the All Night version here; more memories of confined evenings in a Doncaster bedsit in '84, with Kid Jensen on the evening Radio 1 slot). And Never Stop was an unusually-affecting song, falling between the Porcupine and Ocean Rain albums.

Sure, they were overblown and maybe took themselves too seriously but they were young and so were we. Who isn't guilty?

One final reason for choosing this one: the memory of the song playing on the jukebox in the Cov Poly Student Union bar one night and a couple looking into each other's eyes and singing, 'Not just another drop in the ocean'.

I've often wondered whether they went the distance.

the great songs (xxiv) - rhinestone cowboy

Well, many weeks back I was convinced I'd have to include Glen Campbell's Wichita Lineman in this list but then I heard Rhinestone Cowboy on the radio and knew straightaway the latter had supplanted the former. Not because it's a better song, per se - I think Lineman has one of the all-time great lyrical couplets ('And I need you more than want you, and I want you for all time'). It's a truly worthy, special love song, of the old fashioned variety. They justifiably call it sophisticatiion. So why did RC win the day?

I think it's down to the overall singalong quality of the song - it's got great momentum from the off; once heard, never forgotten. But, perhaps moreso, it's down to the memories it evokes, memories that are touched with the deep sadness of loss right now: life at 41 Y Ddol in Pwllheli; listening to Mam's radio in the kitchen, watching Top Of The Pops, lying on the floor doing homework. Mid 70s homelife.

And I think, too, that the lyrics were deep enough to spark some thoughts in my 12 year old brain. Thoughts about life being less than straightforward. About compromise. About the hope of redemption.

(Really worth checking-out is his 2008 album, Meet Glen Campbell, with some great cover versions and other stuff. Go, Glen; long may you run)

true authority

Sometimes a single sentence can work so much in a person. I came across this one by Oliver O'Donovan here and feel it worthwhile sharing here. He said,

All authority arises from mediation of reality.

I guess you'll want to read the context but you don't particularly need to; the context is an application of the single point he is making. It really made me stop and think; maybe it will you too.

meeting gatsby

He smiled understandingly - much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced - or seemed to face - the whole eternal world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favour. It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey. Precisely at that point it vanished - and I was looking at an elegant young rough-neck, a year or two over thirty, whose elaborate formality of speech just missed being absurd. Some time before he introduced himself I'd got a strong impression that he was picking his words with care.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, p.40

better advice?

Reading this made me wonder: when I have been seeing someone in a pastoral counselling situation, have I been more conscious & careful of what I was saying when they were making notes on our conversation?

I think my answer is: possibly. It hasn't happened often.

I also wonder what impact the reverse situation would have - if I worked from notes in speaking to them, or made notes as they spoke (I do neither - I may have some written notes that I make into mental notes in advance of the meeting; I seldom make notes during the conversation and only do so if I need to obviously capture some piece of information).

the single-aim sermon

Over at Between Two Worlds, there is this quote for preachers to mull over (non-preachers views also welcome here, as always...):

I have a conviction that no sermon is ready for preaching, not ready for writing out, until we can express its theme in a short, pregnant sentence as clear as a crystal. I find the getting of that sentence is the hardest, the most exacting, and the most fruitful labour in my study. To compel oneself to fashion that sentence, to dismiss every word that is vague, ragged, ambiguous, to think oneself through to a form of words which defines the theme with scrupulous exactness—this is surely one of the most vital and essential factors in the making of a sermon: and I do not think any sermon ought to be preached or even written, until that sentence has emerged, clear and lucid as a cloudless moon.”

—J. H. Jowett, The Preacher: His Life and Work (Harper & Bros, 1912), p. 133.

The quotation may be old but the idea is very popular today, too.

I want to ask whether it's a helpful idea. Of course, it is likely to help the preacher (and the hearer) in gaining a sense of coherence and so on. And that's good. But I want to ask the question for this reason: does a commitment to achieving a single-senteced summary of a sermon mean that the text portion must be reduced in size until one dominant thought in present in it? Suppose a couple or more things are going on in a passage - how is that to be handled? Cut it back to one main thought? Is that helpful? Can we not handle two or more big ideas at once? Are listeners so dull? Is the sermon so sacrosanct?

Maybe I'm being pedantic because I don't like the thought of more work on top of the usual sermon graft!

And what if the form of the text also communicates a message or intends an effect, in addition to the message and intent of its words? I'm thinking primarily of psalms but not only. How ought that to be handled in a sermon? Can it be handled at all or is it 'done' through the reading aloud of scripture only?

the great songs (xxiii) - i believe in you

This selection was very difficult. In some ways, I think that Can't Get You Out Of My Head is a better song and a more compelling performance. It captures so well the obessession that masquerades as love, in every aspect. The whole feel of the song is of the densest suffocation. (Incidentally, the mashup with Blue Monday is a cracking listen, too).

But I'm opting to choose I Believe In You by Kylie (any need for a surname?). I've opted for it (I think) because it's the more positive of the two. Less compelling writing but a great peformance and the one of the best-ever deliveries of a closing line; the sweetness is almost unbearably near.

In many ways, the finest culmination of the whole S-A-W influence on popular music.

But in neither case am I recommending the videos, let it be said.

when you should take a risk

You do not evaluate a risk by the probability of success but by the worthiness of the goal. We were willing to fail because the goal we sensed was so urgent and strategic.

Ralph D. Winter

the great songs (xxii) - romeo & juliet

From their album Making Movies this is Dire Straits at their best. Great musicianship, songwriting and, more unusually, singing. And if I remember rightly, a pretty decent video, too.

Romeo and Juliet is, of course, based on the original play (and, less so, its retelling as West Side Story). Two star-crossed young lovers; did anyone ever capture it as well in song as Knopfler here? Six minutes of sheer class.

A love-struck Romeo sings a streetsuss serenade,
laying everybody low with a love song that he made;
finds a streetlight, steps out of the shade
says something like, 'You and me babe, how about it?'

Juliet says, 'Hey it's Romeo! You nearly gimme a heart attack';
he's underneath the window, she's singing, 'Hey-la my boyfriend's back';
'You shoudn't come around here singing up to people like that.
Anyway, what you gonna do about it?'

"Juliet, the dice was loaded from the start
and I bet, and you exploded in my heart
and I forget, I forget the movie song;
when you gonna realise it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?"

"Come up on different streets, they both were streets of shame;
both dirty, both mean - yes, and the dream was just the same.
And I dreamed your dream for you and now your dream is real;
how can you look at me as if I was just another one of your deals?"

"When you can fall for chains of silver, you can fall for chains of gold,
you can fall for pretty strangers and the promises they hold;
you promised me everything, you promised me thick and thin, yeah,
now you just say 'Oh Romeo, yeah you know i used to have a scene with him.'"

"Juliet when we made love you used to cry
you said, 'I love you like the stars above, I'll love you till I die.'
There's a place for us, you know the movie song;
when you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?"

"I can't do the talk, like they talk on TV.
And I can't do a love song like the way it's meant to be;
I can't do everything but I'd do anything for you,
I can't do anything 'cept be in love with you."

"And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be,
all I do is keep the beat and bad company;
all I do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme -
Julie I'd do the stars with you any time."

"Juliet, when we made love you used to cry
you said 'I love you like the stars above, I'll love you till I die.'
There's a place for us, you know the movie song
when you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?"

And a love-struck Romeo sings a streetsuss serenade
laying everybody low with a love song that he made;
finds a convenient streetlight steps out of the shade
says something like, 'You and me babe how about it?'

'You and me babe, how about it?'

the cross in the light of the old testament

Engaging with contemporary debates about the cross of Jesus, Chris Wright makes this very astute observation (emphasis mine):

Please bear with me, then, as we step back and think about the Old Testament for a moment. I shouldn't have to apologise for asking you to do that, but so few people seem to bother! It will take a little time, but it will really help us when we come back to the question of the human and divine aspects of the cross. You see, part of the problem with so many theories of the atonement through the centuries is that they try to explain the death of Christ in terms of other stories or worldviews where it does not really fit, while ignoring the one story in which it is actually set - the biblical story of God's dealings with Israel and of God's mission through Israel to bring salvation and blessing to the world.

(Chris Wright, The God I Don't Understand, p.145)

It would take a very long post to summarise how he then works this out in detail (which post this isn't). But his basic premise is worth pondering by all who have encountered the debate.

a great album: what are you going to do with your life?

No doubt The Badger and I will get around to a list of all-time great albums in due course. And this album by Echo And The Bunnymen probably wouldn't make my list (I can't, of course, speak for the furry one) but I wanted to just say that it is, in its own right, a great album.

One of the comments in some review or other made the point that here are middle-aged musicians writing and singing appropriately to their time of life but in recognisable continuity with their earlier musical offerings. I have to agree. And it makes it all so very worthwhile.

There's no Cutter-type vocal histrionics from Ian McCulloch here but the singing remains a highlight. And whilst there's no fevered-guitar such as on The Back Of Love, the playing is engaging and hugely enjoyable.

Worth checking-out. Without doubt.

canaanites

Chris Wright has a very fine chapter on the issue of the extermination of the Cannanites in his book The God I Don't Understand. In chapter 4 he details various inadequate explanations for the command of God for Israel to slaughter the Canaanites. Then in chapter 5 he gives 3 frameworks for understanding what God was doing in that horrific command.

He firstly notes that it appears within the framework of the Old Testament as a whole, and as such we need to keep the following in mind: the culture and rhetoric of ancient warfare, the possibility of God accomodating himself to the fallen reality of warfare at that time and the conquest of Canaan as a unique and limted event. His points are valid and helpful and worthy of ongoing reflection.

The second framework is that of God's sovereign justice - under which he refers to the wickedness of Canaanite culture and religion, the fact that the conquest did not mean Israel was righteous and then, lastly, that God threatened to do the same to Israel and did, in fact, do so. All of this is, again, helpful and proportioning.

His third framework is to situate the conquest within the framework of God's plan of salvation. Here we are treated to material that is not just helpful for the issue at hand but stimulating for a whole approach to grappling with scripture. He notes the Bible's vision of peace, the blessing of the nations, care for foreigners in Old Testament law and, finally, the praise of the nations to Yahweh. The conquest of Canaan has to be seen as one step along the road that leads to Calvary and to the blessing of all nations by the one true God of all the earth.

Wright correctly notes that he isn't giving a definitive answer to the problem of the conquest of Canaan and its apparent brutality. But his way of handling the issue is a model in sustained biblical reflection that leads to a maturing gladness in the God whose character is revealed in scripture and history.

the great songs (xxi) - summer of '69

For some, this is probably all the proof they need that a list like this is principally nostalgic - not because Summer of '69 looms large in my own musical history tour but because of its theme ('those were the best days of my life').

But it isn't nostalgia that brings us here. It's the energy, the feelgood mood and the up-the-volume-and-move-those-feet dynamic of one of Bryan Adams' signature songs.

Play VERY LOUD.

the dangers of going digital

I read a fascinating interview yesterday that Tim Challies did with Doug Groothuis on the subject of his 1997 book, The Soul In Cyberspace. There were at least 3 highpoints for me, that are worth pondering (nb: emphases in his responses are mine, not his):

i. In response to Tim's question - You wrote, “The digitized word does not abide forever.” Is there a way in which the digitizing of text has undermined, or stands to undermine, the immutability of the Word of God?, Groothuis replied:

Not in the metaphysical or moral sense of Scripture as divine propositional revelation. It is objectively and eternally God’s holy disclosure of convicting, saving, and sanctifying truth. However, digitizing texts can destabilize our sense our awareness of its immutability, since texts can be manipulated so easily when they are in electronic form. Even the ready availability of Scripture on line can subvert one’s consciousness that texts are part of a larger argument, system, and narrative. We are less likely to lose the context when we read Scripture in book form.

ii. In answering this question - A quote from your book: “The book, that stubbornly unelectric artifact of pure typography, possesses resources conducive to the flourishing of the soul. A thoughtful reading of the printed text orients one to a world of order, meaning, and the possibility of knowing truth.” Is there a way, then, in which the printed word is inherently superior to the digital word? What do we stand to lose as we transition to the digital word? - he said,

The printed word, as a unique medium, has strengths (and weaknesses) not shared by the digitized word. I appeal to McLuhan: “The medium is the message.” Or, to dilate a bit: each communications medium shapes its content distinctively and shapes the perceiver necessarily. For one thing, we lose a sense of history when we move from books to screens. Books can be old friends, both the content (which stays in our minds) and the artifacts themselves, which we treasure. For example, I would not part with my 1976 edition of Francis Schaeffer’s The God Who is There, which I read shortly after my conversion. It was that book, those ideas, that sparked my vision for Christian ministry. Moreover, I love the cover of that edition and enjoy looking over the many notations I put into the book through multiple readings. Having the same book in a digital form, while worthwhile in many ways (for example, I could capture text and put it on my blog!), would not be the same. Much would be lost.

iii. And then, to this - You said “Ours is an age infatuated with, addicted to, and voraciously hungry for ever-increasing doses of information.” Is this hunger for information in some way dangerous to the soul? - he responded thus,

Yes, since we have limited capacities for knowledge and wisdom. Knowing what matters most—truths about God, ourself, and creation—takes time and effort. Being awash in information is not the same as gaining knowledge (truth received in a rational way). Americans are usually well-informed ignoramuses. We have oceans of facts or information at hand, but little knowledge. Wisdom is the proper use of knowledge. Americans typically have no idea how to handle all the data thrown at them: the more information, the less meaning.

I think I need to work through Doug's insights. I have long enjoyed using a PDA or other device for Bible reading - great for searches & having multiple translations to hand and other upsides; but I think Groothuis is right about dislocation from the wider context, something which is about physicality as much as anything else. I have thoroughly enjoyed reading books as ebooks and have felt no lessening of the power of the words and the worlds before me - maybe it's more noticable in terms of the Bible?

Co-incidentally, I read the interview on the same day that the Amazon Kindle DX was announced - a device that will increase access to all kinds of materials but that flattens the medium in what might be an unhelpful way.

the great songs (xx) - cloudbusting

I'll happily confess I have very little grasp of what dear Kate Bush is singing about in this song....but I love it. I love the way it meanders and yet seems to gain momentum as it goes; I love the singing; I love the whole feel of it.

It's from her 1985 album The Hounds of Love and is one of a number of really strong tracks on there (mainly those released as singles). A bit of a comeback for her at the time following the mild disaster that was The Dreaming.

Pleased to have it in this list and in my collection.

I still dream of Orgonon.
I wake up crying.
You're making rain,
And you're just in reach,
When you and sleep escape me.

You're like my yo-yo
That glowed in the dark.
What made it special
Made it dangerous,
So I bury it
And forget.

But every time it rains,
You're here in my head,
Like the sun coming out--
Ooh, I just know that something good is going to happen.
And I don't know when,
But just saying it could even make it happen.

On top of the world,
Looking over the edge,
You could see them coming.
You looked too small
In their big, black car,
To be a threat to the men in power.

I hid my yo-yo
In the garden.
I can't hide you
From the government.
Oh, God, Daddy--
I won't forget,

cause every time it rains,
You're here in my head,
Like the sun coming out -
Ooh, I just know that something good is going to happen.
And I dont know when,
But just saying it could even make it happen.

The sun's coming out.
Your son's coming out.

making no sense of evil

We want to know where evil comes from. Why did God allow Satan to tempt Adam and Eve? And where did he come from? How did he become evil?

Chris Wright notes that asking questions in order to understand, to bring order and sense is a profound aspect of people being made in God's image and then makes these helpful observations:

Thus, true to form, when we encounter this phenomenon of evil, we struggle to apply to it all the rational skill - philosophical, practical and problem-solving - that we so profusely and successfully deploy on everything else. We are driven to try to understand and explain evil. But it doesn't work. Why not?

God with his infinite perspective, and for reasons known only to himself, knows that we finite human being cannot, indeed must not 'make sense' of evil. For the final truth is that evil does not make sense. 'Sense' is part of our rationality that in itself is part of God's good creation and God's image in us. So evil can have no sense, since sense itself is a good thing.

Evil has no place within creation. It has no validity, no truth, no integrity. It does not intrinsically belong to the creation as God originally made it nor will it belong to creation as God will ultimately redeem it. It cannot and must not be integrated into the universe as a rational, legitimated, justified part of reality. Evil is not there to be understood but to be resisted and ultimately expelled. Evil was and remains an intruder, an alien presence that has made itself almost (but not finally) inextricably 'at home'. Evil is beyond our understanding because it is not part of the ultimate reality that God in his perfect wisdom and utter truthfulness intends us to understand. So God has withheld its secrets from his own revelation and our research.
.......
Now this may seem a lame response to evil. Are we merely to gag our desperate questions, accept that it's a mystery and shut up? Surely we do far more than that? Yes indeed.
We grieve.
We weep.
We lament.
We protest.
We scream in pain and anger.
We cry out, 'How long must this kind of thing go on?'
And that brings us to our second major biblical response. For when we do such things, the Bible says to us, 'That's OK. Go right ahead. And here are some words you might like to use when you feel that way.'

chris wright, the god i don't understand, p.42

servant sufferers

In Housegroups this week we were looking at 1 Peter 4 and the various ways in which people who follow Jesus can suffer at the hands of those who don't. That kind of perpetual ridicule and opposition can be very wearing; it can also make us defensive and insular, people who are turned away and turned inwards by suffering.

But in verses 7-11 Peter exhorts his readers to be sufferers who serve - people who pray, who love, who share with others and who serve with all God's might.

How does that come about? Maybe verse 7 is a help, and not just with respect to praying: "The end of all things is near". Knowing suffering has an end, knowing there is glory beyond the suffering, knowing that soon the Saviour will be seen and every wrong righted - knowing such things seems to be Peter's recipe for serving others in the face of suffering.

They were good times at the Housegroups.

the great songs (xix) - light my fire

Light My Fire by The Doors just bursts open from the very first note and delivers in spades. For once, I'm not going to comment on the words, they mean very little to me in this case (and are far more direct than most Doors lyrics, not being written by Morrison).

What I will mention is the music - surely one of the greatest instrumental sections in all popular music (far too long to be called an interlude, lasting from just over a minute in, right through to the latter part of the 6th minute of the song). I love the organ and its almost hypnotic effect and the cool sweep of the guitar. Yes, Morrison's singing helps it along but, in truth, it isn't his best and isn't the decisive factor in the song's greatness. It's the playing that carries all before it.

To be played loud.