Ever noticed how in its daily cycle the retreating sea leaves little oases of life? The hard dry sun-baked rock that seems lifeless turns out to hold many little water gardens that have a beauty unexpected in such an environment. Plants and fish, small crustaceans and rock-hugging shellfish find shelter from the ebb and flow of life in the tidal zone. In turn they shelter from the crashing waves in their crevices, only to be left in peace as the life giving sea retreats leaving glass clear pools that seem too perfect to believe. Then there are anemones. Little creatures that harden their grip around prodding fingers. They open and close tentacles in the hope of catching a straying fish or other morsel only to be fooled by small children and adults testing their memory of earlier days. How would it be to live in such a pool and rely on what the waves brought past, to not strive so hard but allow what will be to be? And then to rejoice in the tide’s return and the welcome cover the waves bring until another day.
They say it stops the nation. First run in 1861 the Melbourne Cup has become the symbolic sporting altar for a nation that values its sporting achievements as the highest of human endeavours. The Cup infects us all with its brief three and a half minutes of pageantry. Just how important it is to us is reflected in the fact that Cup day has been a public holiday in Melbourne itself since 1877, possibly the only public holiday in the world based on an opportunity to win or lose a fortune. They say that 150,000 people turned up to watch that race on that first Tuesday in November in 1877.
Just why sport has become such an important part of Australian culture is hard to figure. Maybe it has something to do with the way our earliest settlers had to battle and tame an outdoor world. Or maybe the distance between us and anywhere else on the globe has given us the urge to compete. Whatever the reason, it’s interesting to note just how ingrained sport is in our culture, especially interesting to me after ten years living abroad where sport does not take up half of the nightly TV news bulletins.
I have memories of this Cup stretching back to school days in another state where the day was not marked as a holiday. As the time for the race approached in warm November classrooms there would always be someone with a radio. Whatever teacher we had at the time would dutifully turn a pretending deaf ear to the race call as we, though too young to bet or even understand the race, would listen in awe to discover which horse would cross the line to fame and immortality.
Other sports too have caught our hearts. Famously our Prime Minister warned all employers of the peril of sacking anyone for taking the day off after an Australian boat first wrestled the America’s Cup away from the New York Yacht Club after 100 years or more. We were enraptured by the thought of winning even though most of us had no idea of what that boat race was all about. Indeed, many Australians had not even heard of it, yet we dutifully and spontaneously celebrated our newest sporting heroes.
Sport is important to us. Maybe not so dominatingly important as it was to earlier generations but nonetheless an inescapable part of our culture. As I wake on this Cup day I feel the need to partake of the ceremony. I’ll probably join the nation in placing a bet, definitely join some friends for a cup party and oh and ah with them all as we watch the winning horse beat the field. Then tomorrow we can return to normal again for another year or until the next sporting triumph captures our attention.
It’s raining…. again.
Though this time it’s warm rain as the late spring takes hold. I love the way weather affects our lives. Today moist warm air is flowing off the Tasman sea causing a good soaking rain to fall on my garden. And there’s thunder. The lightning’s electricity ionizes the air bringing a pleasant smell and helping fix nitrogen into my garden plants. It’s amazing how the world is set up. Amazing that the natural systems created so long ago continue to function and replenish themselves despite all our intervention.
But what I like most right now is the sound. I’m sitting on my covered verandah and listening to the rain fall on the tin roof. It’s such a grounding sound, almost as if the sound itself anchors me to the moment. Louder and softer, more intense and demanding as the rain shower swells and recedes. I feel cocooned by its presence, surrounded by its comforting sound that jolts memories and feelings and stillness.
And now it whispers…. gentle last drops as the clouds move over to the mainland. Quieter, its almost apologizing for disturbing me as it passes. And now again I can hear the birds and the rolling waves in the background.
Life is simple and the simplest things add the most to it.
Normally I have been a person who shies away from markets, they’re usually filled with people selling things no one wants or products of below par workmanship that are unsalable anywhere else. So, last Saturday, I surprised myself by agreeing to accompany my friend to what was billed as the monthly local farmer’s market on Churchill Island five minutes from my home.
Armed with fifty dollars cash and a dose of skepticism we wended our way along a narrow dirt road to what is normally an idyllic and scarcely inhabited scenic spot. I could tell something was up due to the mobile traffic light that regulated the comings and goings over the one lane bridge that usually only carried a handful of cars per hour. Car-park attendants gestured directions with a half interested arm, guiding us into the filling field of Audi’s and rusty 4 wheels drives that is more often a grassy meadow.
I was pleasantly surprised by what I found on strolling through the many stalls. Not the usual fare of plastic toys, hippie clothes and vinyl belts from China but a stunning array of real produce that a person like me actually wants to consume. This was real food grown by real people. The sort of stuff you’d expect to find in trendy downtown eateries or mountain top retreats. Yet here it was, available to the average person, grown and prepared by average people at prices that anyone could afford. Local wines, hand picked asparagus cut that very morning, clear apple juice still warm from yesterday’s pressing all gathered in one of the most beautiful natural settings… what more could one want?
Even more impressive than the produce were the producers. It amazed me how many nationalities and accents could be heard amongst the stall 
holders. Locals, born and bred mixed it happily with new comers from the far corners of the globe, everyone enthusiastic about what the other brought to this food lover’s paradise. One couple I met were selling fresh pasta and originated from Croatia. Over the tasting of some gnocchi we started talking of a recent trip I’d made sailing in the islands off the Croatian coast. As we chatted I discovered that Marcia came from the island of Hvar where I had recently been. A small island with a history going back to 600 BC, Hvar impressed me with it’s old marble streets, wonderful harbour restaurants and open genuine people. Now here we were on the far side of the world enjoying some banter and fresh gnocchi. I realised as we chatted that our sense of identity never really comes from a nationality or place of birth but rather has a quality more universal. Community is defined by a commitment to one another, an unspoken duty to add something to those around us and to take part in life. And that is what we were doing at that moment, building community by our interaction and sharing of lives and experiences, the food acting as an excuse to open up and sample each other’s world.
In this time where the news is often dominated by debate of immigration and talk of who belongs and who doesn’t it was refreshing to experience the reality of what a multi-cultural community really adds to our lives. I’d rather have my community defined by the human attributes of honest endeavour and open interaction than the accident of where someone was born. What makes community is often hard to define yet the absence of community is understood by how empty we feel by our own isolation. Surely one key ingredient though is the willingness to be involved, to add to and receive from the experiences of each other. That’s the sort of place I wish to live in and I’m happy to report it is alive and well in many unlooked for places, even on a small island on the edge of the world.
Details of Churchill Island can be found here. The Farmer’s Markets are held every 4th Saturday of the month 8am-1pm.
So I’m on an island. A very beautiful, windswept island at that.
I’ve never lived on an island before unless you count the mainland of Australia as a very large island I suppose. To be surrounded by the sea with all the elements the waters can generate is a refreshing experience. The smell of salt in the air, the breezes and winds that come from all directions and the limited, hardy plant life clinging to the battered shore give the place an exotic feel. My island could either be seen as a place of refuge against those relentless elements or as a place to let go, set my face into the wind and laugh at the experiences that life on the edge may bring. I’m becoming partial to the wind it seems.
My island is famous for penguins and motorcycle races. That’s probably a good reflection of what most of life’s about… the natural that exists despite our intervention and the cultural, created by us to sometimes distract us from what is already there. Just last week we were invaded by 100,000 fans of motorcycle racing who brought with them a carnival atmosphere to our otherwise sleepy lifestyle. Traffic jams in a rural setting, queues in the shops and the constant hum of countless bikes gave me a taste of the city life I’d recently escaped. A good taste too. It was great to see how good natured large groups of people can be, even those who are by choice enthusiastic about speed and noise. And the island coped, or maybe even flourished under the strain. After the crowds departured those natural elements that make this such a wonderful place are still here doing what they’ve done for countless years. The wind is still blowing, the surf still rolls in and the penguins are still cute. I’m somehow comforted in the knowledge that creation puts on a show that outlasts and often outshines anything we can manufacture or design.
And so for me now, the pleasures of sand, sea and writing are consuming my time. I don’t see myself as clinging to my island as a way to shelter from the elements but rather as an opportunity to put myself out there, test the waters and see what life throws up.
Today I find myself sitting at a table, coffee in hand, a sea breeze blowing through the house, reflecting on the process of change and how we as people manage (or perhaps mismanage) that change.
Most people, including myself, seem to resist change wherever possible. We usually order the same meal at the restaurants we frequent, we drink the same coffee order, watch the same television programs without ever thinking of trying something new. Over the years I’ve watched people become frustrated because “their seat” at the cafe, on the bus or in church has been taken by someone else. We become so used to things being as they are that the idea of branching out and even attempting something new can become overwhelming for most of us at certain times or in particular situations.
I remember a time in my teens when traffic lights were installed on an intersection two blocks from my home. Previously stop signs gave right of way to one of the roads by stopping the traffic that came up and down the hill crossing it. On the first afternoon of operation I sat on that corner watching the traffic. About one car in three treated the intersection as if nothing had changed by either running the obvious red light or alternatively stopping dutifully at the green light that confronted them. Needless to say there were many near misses and much tooting of horns and angry gestures that day. It seems that a third of those approaching the intersection reacted from habit according to what they were used to rather than responding to the current new conditions.
No matter how uncomfortable change may make us feel, it is important for us to respond to what lies before us rather than relying on what has been. Life throws up circumstances we can’t control. We can however, control our responses to what lies before us.
As I come to terms with some major life changes I am learning how to face those changes with a grin and increasing anticipation. It turns out that the change itself is not nearly as scary as the prospect of what that change was before the event. I’m growing and learning that change is inevitable and not unhealthy. Indeed today as I sit on a windy Island I’m even looking forward to the journey ahead.
He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near, for through Him we both have our access in one Spirit to the Father.
Access. Access is a small word with a large meaning. The Cambridge dictionary defines it as: the method or possibility of approaching a place or person, or the right to use or look at something.
If we apply that meaning to the above scripture we understand that the Holy Spirit provides us with the possibility, the method and the right to come close to the Father, with God. In a time when many people are exploring new and varied ways to develop their spirituality, this text becomes an important reminder of how we really come close to God. When we respond to the Spirit of God the way to God becomes open, accessible.
I was asked while chatting with someone after church last weekend whether God hears the prayers of the unrighteous or of those whose lifestyle is displeasing to God (those were that person’s terms – not mine). I thought about this for a moment trying to figure where the question was coming from. This person was concerned that God would not hear her prayers because of certain things that were not right in her life. Many people struggle with this same thought, believing that if there is sin in their lives God will not listen or respond to their prayers. If that were the case we’d all be lost, there’d be no hope of any of us coming to God or sustaining our walk with Him.
Jesus’ message was for those near and far. People from both groups gain access to God through the one Holy Spirit. The Spirit’s main role on earth is to bring people close to God. He does that by wooing us to God and encouraging us to pray. Think about it… if God rejects the prayers of those who are afar off from Him how could anyone be saved? Isn’t it our prayers, even when we’re afar off, that bring us closer? If God were to reject our prayers just because we didn’t measure up then the very road to freedom in Him itself would be blocked. He does indeed hear our prayers when our heart cries out to Him. We should never let an action or failing keep us from prayer, on the contrary, prayer is a way for us to get back, get right, get with Him.
He came and preached peace to you who were far away, and peace to those who were near.
The message Jesus brought was consistent. It was the same message to all people irregardless of their stance in life. Consistency is important if we want to make sure that our message is heard. Those that shift and change meaning depending on the audience soon lose the trust of those they’re trying to reach. Knowing what our message is and sticking to that message makes us better communicators.
Jesus preached peace to both those who followed Him and to those who were a long way from understanding Him and His purpose. If we are certain of what we are saying, we should never feel the need to compromise that message. The truth is the truth and is not dependent on tweaks to make it acceptable to the hearer. In fact our conviction of how important the message is should make us all the more determined to share that message with everyone no matter how we think they may receive it. It may be easier to preach to the converted but speaking to those who oppose us is even more important despite the discomfort this may cause. After all, everyone deserves the chance to hear the message that saves.
He preached peace. Peace unifies. In today’s fragmented world people hunger for a message of hope that unifies. The church’s main role is one of reconciliation; reconciliation between God and people. It has never been our task to be the moral police of society. Of course we have and keep to standards personally, but as soon as we stray from our purpose of connecting people to God, no matter for how worthy a cause, we lose the message that gave us the power to speak in the first place. It is impossible to legislate change in people’s hearts. Our morals don’t fail due to the weakness of our laws, our morals fail because of the weakness of our hearts. When we preach peace we are creating the opportunity for people to have their hearts strengthened by connection with God. If people can experience the peace of God through that connection they will eventually change their behaviour too.
But now in Christ Jesus you who formerly were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For He Himself is our peace, who made both groups into one and broke down the barrier of the dividing wall.
Things that unify inspire people to overcome the things that divide. A positive message lifts hearts, while a gloomy forecast causes despair. People are attracted to a person who transcends divisions, big hearted people with an embracing message are great to be around. Even diverse political factions, as shown by the recent US elections, will gather behind a leader who can cast a vision that unifies and gives hope, offering a chance of a fresh start. Whether a politician can unite a nation remains to be seen, but the hope expressed by millions is for that fresh uniting dream to take root.
Jesus is the great unifier. His mission is to remove the barrier, bringing down the dividing wall between us and God, and between us and others. There are real issues that divide people in life. And there are things that separate us from God. However, these things become insignificant when compared to the power of what occurred on the cross. His sacrifice compels us to draw near through the power of the story, His willingness to lay down His life and the power of His resurrection. In response to that our lives are changed.
Our role as the church is to bring that peace to our world, our neighbourhood, our workplace or school. Instead of erecting barriers to protect our position we should be finding every possible means to reach into the lives of those around us. At times we’ve tried to preserve a method or practice rather than sharing the message of truth. In many ways the church exists for the world rather than just for it’s own adherents. Our most pressing task is to represent the bridge that Jesus made. We do that by reaching out unconditionally, suspending our judgements and choosing to receive others as if they were with us. The church can be the bringer of good news. We can create an environment where those who are outside will want to come in. After all, our mission is to introduce people to Jesus not to make them conform to a set of religious practices. If we just help them meet Him, He will do the rest.
Therefore remember that formerly you, the Gentiles in the flesh, who are called “Uncircumcision” by the so-called “Circumcision,” which is performed in the flesh by human hands; remember that you were at that time separate from Christ, excluded from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world.
I hate the feeling of being excluded. What is it about human nature that wants to create exclusive circles, those accepted and those not? We’ve all experienced times when a door was shut on us, a back was turned. Maybe we weren’t picked for the team because we were deemed not skillful enough. Or we weren’t invited to the party because of someone’s opinion of who was cool and who was not. However it happens and for whatever reason, those rejections make us feel unwanted, unaccepted, excluded.
Religion has often been the perpetrator of such attitudes. A climate of us and them sometimes uses religious ideals as a covering for bigotry and exclusion. By making judgments on people’s actions and beliefs we end up alienating those same people from the benefits of a life with God. However, those religious acts themselves are only human actions; they have no value unless they bring us and others closer to God.
Interestingly the commandments received in the Old Testament were designed to help Israel be a light, a force for good. There were very strong commandments on receiving strangers, treating them as one of the family, accepting those who came in even though they were different. The commandments were not designed to exclude others, but to show us that we all fall short in some way and to provide a way to show others the love of God.
In the end it all comes down to our relationship with God. We were excluded from the Kingdom because we didn’t know the King, not because we didn’t adhere to a religious code of practice. Anyone can fulfill the form of religious duty. What God is looking for is more than that however. He’s looking for a giving of our heart. When we act towards others in an open hearted way, receiving and including them, we open a way for God to touch both their lives and ours. Together let’s make the church a doorway for others, a place of acceptance and love. And let’s remember there was a time when we ourselves were excluded.
