This White Man's World

Inner Fears and the MRI Scan...

2011-08-24T21:54:00.003+10:00

This white man has been busy of late. Busy with a fantastic and blessed pastoral role at Camberwell Salvos and busy keeping up with two boys at home. I have to say that life has an amazingly rhythmic relentnessness about it - a bit like your heartbeat...just keeps pulsing away...100 000 times a day...just keeps going. But my issue over the past week has nothing much to do with my heart but more to do with my neck.

After having served a ten day sentence of 'singleness' with Phuong, Kim & Luc having a holiday away on the Gold Coast with my parents and sister's family, they came back on Wednesday last week. That particular day I awoke with a stiff and sore neck; nothing too much to be concerned about as it wasn't the first time I'd had one of those 'slept wrong' things happen with my neck. Grin and bear it for the day and things would rectify themselves by next morning. Even one colleague quipped that perhaps my family returning was the cause of my discomfort - that subconsciously I woke realising that the 'pains in the neck' were imminently going to be rejoining me!

Well one week after I'm still as stiff and sore in the neck, shoulders and left arm as last week so something is quite awry. Went to the doctor and he diagnosed a bulging disc in the upper vertebrae of the neck. Fair enough...but the definitive manner this could be confirmed was via a MRI scan. Again, fair enough...Have scan, get results, do treatment, get it fixed...it should be that simple right? Or perhaps that's just the 'bloke' in me who would much prefer to simplify the whole thing rather than over-complicate or over-think it all. So anyway, today I went for the MRI scan...and that's where the simplicity of my little 'get better' scheme started to unravel a bit!

Because other than a brief chat with my Mum a couple of days ago regarding the basics of what an MRI scan entails, I had no idea what I was about to get myself into. So there I am, lying flat on my back with head and neck immobilised as I slide into this tube-like machine that encompasses you from all angles. Like being inserted into a white sterile shaft of noisy, beeping white machinery, lodged in there with a feeling of nowhere to move and nowhere to go. It immediately took me back to one of the most terrifying experiences of my life - being a tourist crawling through the famous Cu Chi Tunnels near Saigon, Vietnam. These amazingly complex and very narrow maze of underground tunnels served as a hiding place for Viet Cong in the Vietnam War. Tunnels that a typical Vietnamese person can navigate with relative ease - but more challenging to larger Western tourists like a certain white man! That day I first discovered something deep within that I wish I'd never discovered - a degree of claustrophobia. Today those inner fears reminded me that they hadn't gone anywhere.

Those first five minutes in that MRI machine were a mental torment more acute than anything going on in my neck. It went like this - heart beating faster, breathing rapidly quicker, irrational thoughts like "this is what it feels like to be buried alive, I can't move my arms, I feel like I'm suffocating and having a heart attack"...Irrational? Absolutely...Real? Yes...And all that before the 25 minute scan had even started! Honestly, the only thing that kept me in that contraption was the fact that if I aborted the scan then I would not get back one cent of the money I had paid for it. And as crazy as it sounds, especially for those who know me, that fiscal barb stuck in me much more than wanting to stay in there for the sake of my 'manly pride'! If the scan was a free procedure then I'm sure I would also have been 'free' of it's clutches in a flash! So the dollars kept me in there and thankfully the scan process did get easier after that first five minutes of mental and emotional assault to the psyche.

But I guess what today reminded me is that many of our fears remain dormant fears inside. And they can come out at the most relatively inconvenient of times. But conquering fear in many ways (and regardless sometimes of the motivation for doing so) is an invigorating experience worth savouring. But I'm not kidding myself - today I may have won a battle but the war is far from won. As for my neck? I'll find out about that on Friday! For now I soldier on with my rickety neck and a chin I'm trying to keep up!

An All-Encompassing Tragedy...

2011-06-29T12:18:00.004+10:00

There are times in life when words just don't do justice to conveying the depth of feelings that arise when something so despicable, so inexplicable, just so tragic happens in our midst. Well that is the feeling I share in some way today, I suggest, with many other past friends and associates from both the St Albans Uniting Church Filipino youth group and the Vietnamese Evangelical Church Melbourne youth. Why? Because today Michael Hermogenes was sentenced to 21 years jail, with a 16 year minimum term for his attack upon a then 14 year-old fellow member of the BASIC (St Albans Uniting Church Filipino) youth group. I care not to re-visit the details of the crime Michael committed but if you need to they can be found via this link http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2011/06/29/3256500.htm

First let me say this - I met Michael Hermogenes on probably two occasions in my past vocation as a pastor in VECA Melbourne. The Vietnamese church youth there have a close association with the Filipino BASIC youth due to the personal relationship of two of their respective leaders. And when I say met him I mean just that - just an introductory moment plus a little bit of small-talk. I would not say that I knew Michael in any way more than that and as such, I clarify my opinions to reflect this level of contact. Therefore when I first learned of the horrific incident that occurred and understood the extent of violence that Michael perpetrated I was shocked and deeply concerned for the effect his actions would have particularly on both youth groups. In no way would I dare suggest that my proximity and relationship to the devastation of what happened would even go close to comparing with the trauma that many others much, much closer to those affected have endured.

So I guess I formulate these thoughts and emotions now from an even greater vantage point having left the fold of VECA. So with some distance now present, I make these observations with regard to the sentencing handed down today. If I didn't ever know Michael Hermogenes, the church and youth group he belonged to then I would most certainly say that I feel the custodial sentence he received today is, as they say in sentencing jargon, 'manifestly inadequate'. That I did know him and the youth group he belonged to actually doesn't change my opinion that much. In some ways I wish it did and I have that 'pesky' reminder of grace and mercy tapping away at my heart even now as I write this. But really, what that individual did to another young human being was truly evil. He must pay a price and endure a consequence that is proportionate to the violent injustice he committed - I'm not sure the sentence today reflects the weight of suffering he's left behind. Not just the suffering in the act itself but the on-going pain and 'sentence' of his victim. I completely understand and have to concur with the outpouring of comment from the community also feeling that a 16 year minimum sentence is grossly unjust.

And I also add this - a response to the media portrayal of this case thus far. Personally I find it completely pathetic and distasteful that this kind of reporting has accompanied this tragic crime..."church leader rapist jailed...", "self-confessed sex demon jailed...", "Melbourne youth church leader jailed..." I say it is regrettable, not because it emphasises that Michael had an involvement in church because that part is true, he was involved in the youth group and church. But because I believe it is an unnecessary over-sensationalising of one aspect of his life that ideally shouldn't add any extraordinary dimension to what he did. However I do concede that, as reported in court, Michael did reportedly confess his belief to a psychologist that he was a "sex demon" and added that "I was in a possessed and drunken state" when committing his crime. The veracity of that statement no-one will ever be able to validate and justifiably it cannot be seen as any excuse or alibi for what Michael did. Nevertheless, how cheap our media outlets have become that they choose to label this man as "the church youth leader rapist". Another shameless attempt at a convenient jab to the vulnerable ribs of church I believe. Because surreptitiously they are trying to highlight the apparent hypocrisy of how a church youth leader could perpetrate such an act which leads people, more often than not, questioning not only the person per se but the institution of church as well. Michael Hermogenes has rightfully taken his stand in the box of the accused - the church wasn't on trial with him. It's about time the collective media revised their boring and exceedingly monotonous agenda of trying to prosecute the church for the wrong-doings of it's attendees. It's a simplistic and nonsensical argument when you follow it through to it's core.

As the title suggests, this whole episode is an all-encompassing tragedy. And as I said at the beginning, even that description seems trite and doesn't convey the full blackness of how many people are feeling today. My prayers continue for all involved, especially the victim; may God bless her and continue to heal her. But prayers also for families affected, including Michael's and importantly for Michael himself.

An Occasion to Remember...

2011-06-24T14:28:00.003+10:00

Last night this white man joined members of the Australian Vietnamese Catholic community and other Catholics along with hosts of other community representatives in celebrating the episcopal ordination of Bishop Vincent Long into his new role as auxiliary bishop for Melbourne. And if you read my previous blog you would understand that this was certainly an auspicious occasion for the Catholic Church and particularly, for the Vietnamese community in Australia as Bishop Vincent is the first Vietnamese-born man to receive this high posting in Australia. And the thousand or so Vietnamese Catholics present last night at St Patricks Cathedral certainly supported their new Bishop with an expected and well deserved sense of pride and achievement. Because, as Father Vincent himself pointed out last night during his address to the massed congregation, his elevation to the position of bishop is a true point of thanksgiving for all Vietnamese refugees who risked their all for a better future in Australia. A reason for thankfulness because it demonstrates to the Vietnamese community that their acceptance into the broader Australian community is tangibly real and that this country of freedom provides anyone, who decides to call Australia home, an equal opportunity to make one's imprint on our society. No wonder the throngs of Vietnamese who filed out of St Patricks last night appeared to walk a little taller!

And so, also in reference to my previous blog, last night I was keenly scanning the masses for a sighting of a Vietnamese Protestant representative. A young VECA pastor, a friend for many years did make contact with me and was going to attend but had to decline at the last moment. To his credit, had his circumstances not prevented him I'm sure he would have joined me in celebrating Father Vincent's ordination. So was there another Vietnamese Protestant pastor present? I very much doubt it - I certainly didn't see anyone familiar. Should I have been surprised? No..."Don't be too harsh white man, for they were probably watching the streamed on-line coverage of the ceremony..." Mmm.....

It is rather pertinent at present that the Protestant arm of the Vietnamese church are currently celebrating, by their definition, '100 years of Christianity in Vietnam'. Or as a personal invitation I received to attend festivities for this event stated "come celebrate 100 years of the Gospel in Vietnam". This refers to the 100 year anniversary of Protestant Christians arriving in Danang, Vietnam back in 1911 and the subsequent establishment of the Protestant Church in Vietnam. As such, Vietnamese Protestant churches all over the world have every right to celebrate this important event and every Vietnamese Christian, whether Protestant or Catholic should be emphatically praising God for this milestone. But I ask all Vietnamese Protestants this question - have you ever heard of Alexandre de Rhodes? He was the Jesuit missionary who arrived in Vietnam in the 1600's, along with other Jesuits to firmly establish the Church in Vietnam. And along with that, de Rhodes also formulated the Latin-style Vietnamese written language (chu quoc ngu) still in use today as the official written language of Vietnam. This did away with the previous Vietnamese script (chu nom) that was based on Chinese characters. Along with this he also started the task of translating the Bible into Vietnamese.

Anyway, enough of the history lesson for my point is this - the Word of God was present in Vietnam, in written Vietnamese language a long time before 1911. And the Church was in Vietnam a long time before 1911. So perhaps I just make this suggestion to my Vietnamese Protestant brothers and sisters in the midst of their 100 year celebration - yes, celebrate with all your joy and thanksgiving for the fact that the Protestant Church commenced it's work in Vietnam one century ago. But please don't embarrass yourselves by advertising the 'fact' that your festivity celebrates 100 years of Christianity in Vietnam. Or that you celebrate the Gospel being present in Vietnam for 100 years - it's patently obvious that the Good News of Jesus Christ has been proclaimed in Vietnam much longer than that. That it has been there longer because of the presence of the Catholic Church in Vietnam should not be just brushed off and history revised accordingly. I'd like to believe that the wording of your celebration is a 'lost in translation' error but my experience tells me otherwise.

I finish with this and it is the last thing I will write on this matter (thank God you may well be saying right now and I most probably concur with you!). I am not a closet Catholic nor am I an apologist for the Catholic Church. I have my own questions and differences in the way the Catholic Church operates in belief and practice. And I have very little axe left to grind with the Protestant Vietnamese Church (getting down to the barest sliver of wood in my hand actually!). But what gets me righteously angry are churches that blindly carry on with their own agendas, functioning as the centre of their own universes, giving no credence to the presence and value of their fellow churches and their mission efforts. It's always been a pet-hate of mine and it just so happened that at this particular point of time, for the Vietnamese Church, both Catholic and Protestant, the stars have aligned in a most telling manner. So all that being said, I celebrate and pray for Father Vincent Long and move on with an open-mind doing my load of work alongside fellow Christians from many different 'houses'.

From Boat Person to Bishop...

2011-06-13T23:20:00.003+10:00

The name Nguyen Van Long would mean little to most Australians. Ask the typical bloke on the street who that person is and why they are notable and they're likely to tell you that he's the young Vietnamese drug smuggler who got hanged in Singapore and few years ago! Well actually Nguyen Van Long, otherwise known as Father Vincent is the newly appointed Auxiliary Bishop in the Archdiocese of Melbourne. In other words, this Vietnamese Catholic priest now holds the second-highest position in the Catholic church in the state of Victoria. An admirable appointment for a well-respected man of God who has come a long way since his arrival to Australia in 1980 as a refugee fleeing Viet Nam. And after serving the Church in various roles, even most recently in Rome, he will take up his new role shortly. Again, the appointment of Father Vincent to this high position in the Australian Catholic Church is a wonderful recognition of this man's influence in Australian society and also a source of pride and achievement for the Vietnamese community in Australia. He is certainly a great ambassador for the Vietnamese community and a most worthy representative of our great God.

What this white man really wants to also highlight are two things...First, I hope that this sagacious decision to appoint Father Vincent to his new position is not lost upon those politicians in high places who maintain their vigilant, yet I would contend fundamentally immoral stance that continually implores that Australia needs to "turn back the boats!" Because let's face the fact - if the fall of Saigon and the Communist take-over of Viet Nam happened in 2011 then the likes of Nguyen Van Long and other such real people would have to contend with more than just a leaky boat and South China Sea pirates to make it to the 'lucky country' we call Australia! They would have to overcome rancid Australian political agendas that waft of the disgraceful 'white Australia' policies of the last century. And they would also have to contend with an Australian population who, as recent opinion polls show, are growing more and more resistant to the welcoming of refugees and asylum seekers. It seems to me that the "turn back the boats" message is darkening the Australian psyche at present and, in my opinion, this is Australia's bare-naked shame. A blight on our nation as a developed country that prides itself on it's generosity and humanitarian heart - it's just a pity that our nation's conscience isn't so developed at this time. And so the sooner this shameful mantra of "turn back the boats" becomes a forgotten epitaph the better! Father Vincent Long Van Nguyen, a humble man of the cloth, demonstrates again the immeasurable worth that one refugee seeking a better life in Australia can add to the fabric of our community. May his elevation to his position in the Catholic church serve as a constant reminder of that worth and how we, as a nation are dreadfully culpable if we continue to deny the opportunities of the next generation of Nguyen Van Long's to make their mark on our society.

And finally my second observation, a more personal "sting in the tail" if you will... On Thursday 23 June 2011 an official Episcopal Ordination ceremony will be held for Father Vincent Long Van Nguyen in Melbourne. I am sure that this appointment will be celebrated and attended by many Vietnamese Catholics here in Melbourne and they will appropriately acknowledge with pride the significance of what this appointment means, both in real terms and symbolically for the Vietnamese community. And I am equally sure that the ordination ceremony will also see the heads of the prominant Vietnamese Buddhist communities of Victoria show their appreciation and acknowledgment, in the spirit of inter-faith dialogue and goodwill, for the appointment of Father Vincent. Moreover, I wouldn't be surprised at all to see the crimson and saffron robes of Vietnamese Buddhist temple representation present at that cathedral on 23 June. But I ask, no, I state this...will you see a representation of leadership from the various streams of Vietnamese Protestant churches based in Melbourne support the appointment of their brother in Christ Father Vincent to his position of Auxiliary Bishop of the Archdiosese of Melbourne? Categorically, NO YOU WON'T! I can confidently state with good authority that pig's trotters would be seen in the clouds before you would see one pastor from VECA (Vietnamese Evangelical Church in Australia) attend that ordination ceremony in support of Father Vincent Long Van Nguyen. Believe me...I know.

In the church I once served that I know very well, inter-faith dialogue was non-existent and inter-church ecumenism nearly as rare. And as for the prevailing attitudes of Vietnamese Protestant Christians towards their Catholic brothers and sisters in Christ? Well generally speaking, those Catholics may as well be non-believing contagions as far as Vietnamese Evangelical Christians are concerned. Ask one of my friends, who, being from a Catholic background and having been baptised in the Catholic Church was "strongly discouraged" (denied the right) to partake of Holy Communion in the evangelical church. That of course could have been remedied if he chose to submit to a 'better baptism' in the Vietnamese Evangelical Church! Would the Vietnamese Protestant community feel proud of Father Vincent and his promotion within the Catholic Church? I doubt they even know about it and even if they did, I doubt they would even care. But then again, what does an insular-looking edifice really care about what happens outside of it's front gate? Even amongst their own community?!

So i repeat again, they (pastoral representation from the Vietnamese Evangelical Church in Australia) won't be there but this ex-Vietnamese church pastor will! And I challenge any fellow Vietnamese muc su (pastor) to prove me wrong. If this opinion piece infiltrates the Vietnamese Evangelical Church or any other Vietnamese Protestant denomination in regard to this matter then I will see you on Thursday 23 June so we can both offer our support and goodwill to our fellow brother in Christ Father Vincent Long Van Nguyen! I'll be saving a seat for you!

God bless you Father Vincent and may He continue to strengthen and uphold you in these exciting days as you continue to serve Him obediently.

Travelling East and West...

2011-06-11T18:22:00.003+10:00

It was the Vietnamese-born memoirist and humanitarian Le Ly Hayslip, whose life was depicted in the Oliver Stone movie Heaven & Earth who once said, of her own existence, that she was caught between east and west. Caught between cultures, between religions and between the countries of the US and Viet Nam. This white man is also caught between east and west and, whilst admittedly not to the dramatic extent that Le Ly felt ensnared, still can relate to her feeling of constantly crossing over polaric divides. Not that I am bouncing between differing spheres of religion and the hybrid of eastern and western cultures in my house with Phuong has synthesised well over the 14 years of our marriage. At present my dominant east and west journey is literal...and geographical. Located in the north-west of Melbourne, I have become a frequent driver, traversing the city of Melbourne five days-a-week, crossing over to the suburb of my childhood and youth, the leafy eastern suburb of Camberwell. So in this way my life is again crossing divides...east to west...and back again.

This year I think I've crossed one bridge or another more times than ever before in my memory. The once spectacularly-noted cityscape view of Melbourne from the apex of the Bolte Bridge isn't so spectacular anymore. The once-felt thrill of entering the 3.5 km long Burnley Tunnel, burrowing under the Yarra River grows less every day. Yet on a positive note the early morning and afternoon drives to and from work have re-acquainted me with the world of talk-back radio which has been a cathartic distraction from the monotony of tollway traffic. Time spent behind the wheel also provides a convenient place to think, reflect and pray about life, something one can never really do too much of. So I have to say that overall my east to west journey has it's benefits and for me it is a 'glass half full' reality. Even amongst the pressing and intimidating presence of impatient truckers powering their monstrous toys and the other Formula One wannabees who can't sit still in one lane for more than five seconds, my car is my sanctuary. A place of peace, a therapeutic haven and a locale of learning as I engage not only gears but in life itself.

So the next time you bemoan the fact that a long drive awaits you stop and think about the time you can spent productively in that small place of worship that is your car. For me, west and east is my current reality but honestly I wouldn't want to have it any other way!

The Great Lama!

2011-06-09T23:08:00.006+10:00

With some interest this white man has followed the arrival of the Dalai Lama on his latest visit to Australia. As usual, the spiritual leader of Tibetan Buddhism has been afforded the 'rock star' treatment seemingly customary for a leader befitting his status. As a global icon of peace, love and all-things harmonious, the Dalai Lama is never without a willing throng of devotees and 'spiritual groupies' seeking a word of wisdom or perhaps just to hear an example of the slight high-pitched cackle of laughter that sounds a little unseemly coming from such an 'enlightened being'. And they are just the journalists, slavishly trailing the robed guru proclaiming the message of the man it seems no-one has a bad word to say about...well no-one not affliliated with the government of that rather large Asian country that stands between the Lama and his homeland anyway!

What strikes me about the inevitable hoopla when the Dalai Lama visits really has nothing much to do with him. To be honest, I have nothing against the man at all - I think he is a fine ambassador for his brand of religion and the values he espouses are generally positive and life-affirming. And I'm certainly not in the business of bashing other religious figures simply for the sake of some "my God's better than your god" argument. I have friends who profess their belief in Buddhism and this is their right - a right I respect and affirm. But let me say this - I always find it bemusing that such a cult of celebrity falls not only upon the Dalai Lama but on his religion as well. It seems that as soon as the Lama hits town Tibetan Buddhism is suddenly elevated to being the legitimate cure for everything from Western decadence, empty materialistic living, childhood obesity to male pattern baldness and so on...But be warned - the cure from the Bodhi tree doesn't come cheap. $5000.00 for a premium ticket to enlightenment sees the Lama's wisdom come at a price.

In these days where the legal right of Christianity to be taught in Australian schools is being challenged, my great heartache inside lies in the fact that it seems that another Great High Lama (by the way "lama" is a Tibetan word for high priest) receives none of the pop-star attention the Dalai Lama and his inspiration, Gautama Buddha get. Not that Jesus the Lama would have been seeking all the stuff that goes along with a Dalai Lama visit. Let me put it this way - Australian's would do well to reflect and remember that one Jesus of Nazareth lived an exemplary life that both spiritually taught and practically demonstrated all the intrinsic values that the Dalai Lama emphasises. No it's not a competition in any way, but how I grieve that somewhere along the way it seems that churches have excelled in portraying the author of our faith as nothing more than a boring option for old people who don't have a life anymore. But I guess it's far more trendy these days to jump on the Buddhist bandwagon as opposed to the foundational essence of what a God-man called Christ lived and breathed. Maybe the challenge of journeying one's life along a Christ-modelled pathway of unconditional and radical servantude will never be as appealing as vacating your mind in a lotus position whilst contemplating the cosmic meaning of 'nothingness'...

Well Jesus Christ is my Great High Lama and in Him I find my meaning. And He doesn't need my $5000 because He has already paid a far higher price for me!

Journeying in Yellow, Red & Blue!

2011-06-04T23:30:00.005+10:00

It is now three months since this white man took leave of his past vocation as a pastor in the Vietnamese Church. It would be misleading to suggest that I have left that part of my life completely behind for I am still dealing with the residues that place has left on me. Nevertheless I am proud of all my scars and I bear them gladly as a testimony to God's greatness and my smallness.

Since then I have been refreshed, revitalised and renewed by God through serving Him in my new vocation as Children & Family's pastor at The Salvation Army Camberwell. Back amongst my spiritual family in the church of my ancestors - a church, a movement that I am joyfully discovering has shaped and defined who I am in so many ways over my lifetime, even though I wasn't even conscious of it's far-reach into my inner-self. So not only have I been acquainting myself with my new position ministry-wise but I have also been journeying on a path of exploration into my Army roots.

Last Sunday I did my part in door-knocking for the Salvation Army Red Shield Appeal, the first time I have participated in this annual event for perhaps 15 years or so. As I said to the area leader who requested my services to assist him in his team, "it's pretty hard to say no to doing the door-knock when you've avoided it for over a decade!" So off I went with plastic bag in hand and my dad's Salvo jacket on to proudly proclaim the presence of the Red Shield and what that means in our community. I must admit that I did muse to myself along the way that there would be no way I could have collected the donations I did in that two hours of volunteering if I was representing my last place of employment! So again it struck me just how respected a movement the Salvation Army is...and here I am, so proudly and strongly affiliated to it. I'm not sure I ever felt that sense of pride in my home church as I grew up in it and I certainly don't ever remember actually taking a sense of pleasure in Red Shield door-knocking before! So being back in the Salvos must be doing me some good inside I think...I know...

The actual role that I am fulfilling at Camberwell is also progressing well. In some ways, as I have reflected with a few members of the senior leadership there, my role is a bit of a fusion of the two main ministry areas that has generally kept me busy over the past 18 years of my life work-wise. Because my role is a little bi-polar in nature; on one hand I am primarily responsible for the children's ministries which draws upon my church-based experience. On the other hand I am also serving to meet the needs of the community in Ashburton, particularly in the government-housing community demographic there. So this area draws on all my years of doing outreach to the disadvantaged in the welfare sector. What does all of that mean for me right now? I guess it tells me that at this point of time I'm positioned in the right place to be of best use to God. With all of the experience and skill-base I've accumulated in those areas of church and community outreach then I reckon that God has me right where He wants me doing what He wants me to be doing! So for today that's good enough for me...Where the journey goes tomorrow? Well wherever that leads I'll walk that path then...

But for now I just thank God for the provision and care that He graciously gives me and my family. It has been such a great blessing to literally return 'home' to the place I grew up in at Camberwell. My yellow, red and blue journey is my deep joy and I know the journey-Maker has only more good by-ways to discover!

The Village...

2011-03-10T00:16:00.006+11:00

Straight after completing his year 12 studies, this white man studied for one semester in a Bachelor of Arts degree at Monash University in 1990. It only lasted a semester before I quickly realised that I was in no fit state to study, especially studying at a tertiary level a course that I felt no resonance with at that time. But one of the subjects I did briefly attend was anthropology. This is the study, literally of humankind...especially in regard to living together in community. So this offering today is somewhat anthropological in kind. But if you have seeing eyes and a perceiving mind then you will know exactly what I'm about to describe.

I share with you some thoughts about a village I knew of. It's a small village that tended in nature to be very cautious and highly conservative. It demanded of it's villagers that they conform to a particular standard of conduct and allegiance in accordance with the demands of the village deity. And the wishes and desires of that deity were transmitted through the village chieftain - most of the villagers accepted this reality and slavishly drank his words without question, like children nursing at a mother's breast. And he knew this...and unfortunately, due to an innate shade of grey within his soul the chieftain took advantage of this. And so this meant that he could effectively control the villagers like children, for children usually are the easiest to control. Controlling what they could say, do and know about life in the village. Even trying to control what they could know and learn about the deity. That knowledge should only ever be imparted by him he reasoned, for different knowledge or, heaven forbid, greater knowledge could be dangerously subversive to the village itself and to his position. Controlling the villagers understanding and their knowledge was key, for the chieftain understood well that knowledge is power and that was a commodity he claimed mostly for himself and perhaps apportioned a little to those closest to him, only to serve his purposes. It wasn't that the chieftain just controlled for control's sake, for he did believe that this aligned himself with the village deity's expectations of him. For he WAS the chieftain - his villagers needed to be controlled for their sakes and for the deity's sake. It was in their best interests that they all commit their allegiances to the deity and the manner by which this manifested itself was through their devotion to him as the chieftain - the deity's especially anointed representative in that village.

And so, for the most part, village life meandered along a predictably comfortable and relatively uneventful way. There were occasional bumps and bruises on the road of life in the village and this would see the chieftain quickly act to impose his will, usually acting through his closest village sychophants. Ideally though, the chieftain would pride himself in 'troubleshooting' issues in the village even before they became potential issues. All for the sake of control. But every community, society or even a village has an underbelly. That village was no exception. But differences and disagreement in the village would always be branded as disunity and would be dealt with cruelly and ruthlessly. For example, any villagers straying from the collective village mentality were dealt with in either of two ways. Either they were silenced immediately by threats of village exclusion and by the scorn of their fellow village counterparts, to which they would normally bend and comply. Or otherwise, if they were resolute in their grievances against village life and/or the chieftan, they were slowly isolated from the village. They would be stared at by 'concerned' villagers but never spoken to...acknowledged as existing within the village from a distance but regarded as nothing better than lepers, only fit to be treated as village pariahs. And so, cold and frozen out of the greater village community they would eventually lose heart and hope and do either of two things; unable to bear the isolation of the village they would accept their fault at ever having the 'audacity' to question the village or the chieftains ways and come crawling back to the fold with contrite heart hoping to be accepted back. Or alternately they would just eventually leave the village quietly...inoffensively vaporising into the collective amnesia of the village that they ever existed. The most earnest hope of the chieftain was that 'dissenting anarchical' villagers would just 'disappear' and do it in silence so that the village would hear or know as little as possible of their reasons for departing.

The village lived, breathed and functioned on fear. Fear of what the deity might see...fear of what the deity's divine enemy was up to...fear of what the chieftan might do...fear of what other villagers might think or even worse, say to the chieftan or those close to him. Fear of being seen with other 'suspect villagers' that could be interpreted as dissention and advocating village disunity. Fear of being branded 'guilty' by association. Fear of ever being isolated from popular village cliques and/or the community at large. Fear of contemplating what life would be like without or outside of the village. And all of this fear was ultimately perpetrated by the village chieftain for fear was his greatest weapon. A means of control...a means of pleasing himself and, in his mind, pleasing or worshipping his deity. But most certainly a means of establishing his own position as head of the village. Because even for the chieftain, outside of that small village he was a nobody. Inside he was king...outside he was 'king nothing'. Nothing more than an anonymous small man whose importance ceased at the borderline of his own shadow. So his own ego demanded that he be elevated to the position of grandeur he enjoyed within the village. And he would employ fear and control in any measure to ensure that his status quo could not be threatened or taken away.

And so village life continues on...but the village is shrinking in numbers. Not that this concerns the chieftain too much as he would be far happier having a small village community that completely aligns their devotion to his position and the village deity as opposed to a larger village of divergant views that could, in his eyes, potentially destabilise his position and the village itself. The older senior village members, perhaps feeling too tired to think or care too much about the future direction of the village simply prepare themselves to pass away and leave their legacy to their village families. Some younger villagers resign themselves to the fact that they are pretty much confined to the village until they might, one day, if brave enough choose to leave. The chieftain had spoken of abdicating his village throne in times past, because of his growing years, but in reality this has been nothing more than a peacemeal offering to a village nervous at times for the village's future. He still remains chief and no evidence is immediately obvious as to why he wouldn't stay in that position for as long as he humanly could. For ultimately he is a selfish chieftain whose personal needs outweigh the greater needs of the village. Of course that is a fact he would never confess to and would vehemently disagree with (most definitely he would brand you a dissenter with poisonous views intending to harm the village) but all practical evidence points to the contrary.

And so there the village remains...Perhaps in perpetuity, perhaps at least until something calamitous happens that causes the villagers to disband or perhaps until a larger village one day swallows that village up. But for now the village remains and it's remains remain in me...

"Fear has a large shadow, but he himself is small."

Memories...

2011-03-08T14:15:00.002+11:00

As this white man sits here in the house he grew up in for a decade or so, a house that now contains his office (which was once his brother's bedroom!), one thing that he cannot escape is an irrepressible infiltration of memories. Someone said to me recently, on the topic of being re-united with my old house, something to the effect of "if only the walls could talk..." My response was pretty candid - yes they would say some interesting things, most of them complimentary but other things perhaps not. In fact I think it would probably be just as well if these walls maintained their silent composure for the benefit of all!

One day last week I took a walk around the block - re-treading a well-worn path I used to tread on a daily basis to school and back. I stopped and looked at some of the houses and immediately had flashbacks from 25-30 years ago. One house, on the corner of Edward and Bowen St, quickly came to mind as I remembered it vividly. It was an old house and the owner had a bay window in the front with a bust of Beethoven or some other notable composer on a piano. As a child this used to scare the life out of me as I thought it was a ghost of some sort. In my childlike understanding I could not work out what a bust was - why would someone carve or shape a statue of someone with just their head and shoulders and not their whole body? Anyway as I neared that house on my walk I noticed that it was gone...replaced by a very modern looking townhouse. The ghosts of the past it seems have moved on...

I continued over to the Camberwell Sports Ground, an oval that I was intimately familiar with. I was a regular visitor there as a boy, whether taking my old dog "Honey" there for a run around during the week or going there on the weekends to watch the old VFA (Victoria Football Association)competition where my team, the Camberwell Cobras would routinely be getting thrashed by most other teams. There used to be large hedges that guarded the ground with broken decrepit wire fencing behind them. I knew exactly which areas could be accessed by anyone my size back then - therefore enabling me to never have to pay an entrance fee to watch the football! But the hedges and fences are all gone...and so are the Camberwell Cobras....

And then last week I revisited my old primary school, Camberwell South PS. A morning tea was put on by the CRE (Christian Religious Education) volunteers which now includes me as part of the team. I had a look around my old school and could not help but notice how different it looked now. New buildings, different layouts all reminded me that it is 28 years this year since I finished grade 6 back in 1983. I did see one thing there that sent a slight chill through my spine as I suddenly flashed back those 28 years. It is a long seat - a bit like a traditional wooden church pew. It was once located directly outside the teacher's staff room and it's job was punitive in nature - any pupil who misbehaved badly enough were sent to sit on this seat for an appointed period of time. We used to call it the"hot seat" and believe me, every teacher who would pass you in the corridor on their way into the staff room would always stop and ask you why you were sitting there. You would be worn down explaining your misdemeanors over and over, feeling more and more guilty and shameful before every teacher that stopped for their inquisition. Well that "hot seat" was still there, slightly away from it's old position. I asked the current principal of the school if she knew the history of that seat - she gave me a wry smile and asked me how intimately I knew the grainy contours of that seat. I could only smile wryly too....

Isn't the flow of memories an amazing thing when you are suddenly located in places you spent much time in. Memories that one would have thought would have faded (and some surely have disappeared forever into the ether of forgetfulness), yet can still come flooding back most unexpectedly. Memories that grab me and hold me spellbound, almost frozen in time between realities some three decades apart. Memories that are truly captivating, whether bitter or sweet.

And as I run my fingers over my old bedroom wall, feeling the familiarity of it's texture I'm inwardly content knowing that the best and worst memories I have are still kept preciously within. They are mine and mine to keep for as long as my mind and soul need them.

And as I hold the same old doorknob on my old bedroom door I'm happy that I can freely and willingly open the door to a world I grew up in and feel blessed to re-visit. For I have been blessed by God with good family and fine memories of those formative years of my life.

And yet I am very happy that these walls cannot talk because some memories are best kept secret and should remain right where they belong...

The Fishbowl and the Ocean...

2011-03-02T11:42:00.008+11:00

Before this white man touches on thoughts of fishbowls and oceans I do want to just briefly make a clarification to those of you who might wonder why my particular thoughts and reflections find their place under the title of "white man's world". I probably explained this when I started this blog but I didn't bother to go back and check, for it is just as timely to remind you again of the meaning behind "the white man".

When I first became a part of the Vietnamese Evangelical Church some 12 years ago many of the youth and young adults there, who I would eventually be most privileged to pastor, fondly commented on the fact that I stood out in their midst as a "white man in a yellow man's world!" They even would tease me about the fact that I was turning into a duck egg - white on the outside but yellow within! And this sentiment caught on and remained with me for the duration of my ministry in the Vietnamese Church across Melbourne. For Vietnamese youth and young adults across many Vietnamese churches I had involvement in, I was THE white man! So if you are new to reading my blog then please understand that I am not a white supremacist or some kind of evangelical xenophobe! Far from it! I guess what is interesting now, having left the Vietnamese church and returned to my spiritual roots at The Salvation Army Camberwell is that the "white man" tag doesn't have much meaning left to it anymore because I blend in fairly seamlessly within the fellowship I now serve. The yellow man's world is, in some respects, all but a memory...fortunately my home is still blended with yellow!

The fishbowl and the ocean? These two realities have been nibbling away at my mind over the past two weeks since commencing my new role within The Salvation Army Camberwell. Why you ask...Because in my "past-life" as a pastor within the Vietnamese Church here in Australia often times I felt pretty much like a fish in a fishbowl. In a small place, confined, looking out into the big wide world but never really having much opportunity to leave the fishbowl. I guess I felt a bit like Nemo, that clown fish in the Disney-Pixar classic animation Finding Nemo. He was caught from the ocean and placed into an aquarium where he could see out of his tank, through the window to the ocean. And it grieved him to the point of plotting his escape, desperate to be reunited with his father. The point is this...he came from the ocean and his perspective was defined by the freedom of living in the ocean. Other fish in the fishbowl may have lived there for most or all of their lives so they have never known any other reality other that the glass walls of that place. Well I came from out of the ocean because God needed me, for His appointed time and purposes to live in a fishbowl. And while I lived in that fishbowl I became quite accustomed to life within it. It became a refuge, a place of security...A place tucked away from the larger workings of the greater community with it's own peculiarities and practices. And I was surrounded by other mostly contented fish more than happy to live out their Christian lives and experience within that bowl. And so, in many ways life in the fishbowl wasn't completely negative and bad - it had it's affirming moments and served a rightful and holy purpose. But it was a fishbowl nevertheless and whilst I grew familiar and used to it's perimeters and depth I still always recognised it for what it was.

And now, by His divine fish-scooping net God has lifted me out of the bowl and it feels like He's lowered me back into open waters again! One of the real transitions I have encountered through this process is realising just how vast an organisation The Salvation Army is. I grew up in the Army as an officer's kid and thought I knew the basic machinations of the Army but I never fully appreciated the scale of who the Salvation Army is and the measure of what is does on such a massive scale. I never appreciated the level of respect the Army has in the community and just how powerful a presence the "Red Shield" is when it turns up to events such as natural disasters, grand openings of casinos and even Sexpo conventions. I had grown up in an ocean of a movement, a movement called an Army but never fully realised the limitless potential and resources that the Army has. Didn't realise it until I was stripped of it. It doesn't mean that this white man has changed to this rose man with some newly acquired rose-coloured glasses to wear. I'm far too weathered in my life experience to be so idealistic about all the plots and sub-plots at also provide for treacherous and dangerous waters in Salvationism. But I tell you, when you've been swimming around in a fishbowl for 12 years it is very liberating right now to be feeling the movements and currents of an Army that is moving in a promising direction. Sure it won't last forever but I'll ride those currents freely while I can!

So this white man is being expanded...stretched if you will. Stretched to serve and fulfil God's purposes right here where He needs me. Stretched to re-discover the deep spirituality of "others", "the last, the least and the lost" and the three S's "soup, soap and salvation". Stretched to swim in open waters...I'm learning how to swim again!

Foundations...

2011-03-01T11:44:00.002+11:00

Last night this white man had the opportunity to sit in on his first senior church leadership board meeting since beginning my re-invention as a member of The Salvation Army Camberwell. And it was a constructive meeting from my point as I was given a time slot to present some thoughts and observations of the current health status of children's ministries at C'well and then present some new ideas for where things should head in the near-future. And following that further church business was discussed and the meeting concluded shortly thereafter. I looked at my watch and discovered that the meeting had only gone for 90 minutes. That would definitely make that church leadership committee meeting the shortest I have been to in a long, long time! Again, God is good!

But there was one other moment that struck me last night in this meeting. I guess it was what many would term a "God moment" - it certainly took me to a place of meaningful contemplation. Sitting across from where I was seated last night during that meeting was my Sunday School leader from 28-30 years ago. David currently assumes responsibility in C'well Corps for the discipleship programs. I remembered vividly my own Sunday School days as a boy learning the ins-and-outs of God, the Bible, the Army and so on. And I even recalled David writing a reference letter for me in order to assist my scholarship application to attend Scotch College. And it just made me think...when David took on the role as Sunday School leader all those years ago would this fine Christian gentleman have had any idea that one of his young boys would one day, some 30 years later, be discussing his plans for the present and future Sunday School in 2011 and beyond? Did he have any inkling of the significance of the foundation of faith that he played a part in building in someone like me? Not that I'm anyone special at all for I only want to chip in and 'do my bit'. But it just made me wonder...do we really ever stop to think of the impact we have on the young people we lead in the church? Do we dream where they may end up one day down the track? Do we actually realise that the foundations of faith we lay in children is so precious a task that it stands the test of time and real living?

I thank God for people just like David who in their humility serve God and His church faithfully. Because I know that without such leadership and guidance young boys like me could easily end up base-less and without direction or substance. And as such I am inspired to simply do the same...to serve God by leading the most precious jewels of His Kingdom, the children. And if I can be a foundation-builder for God in the lives of children then I know that my life here on earth has been well spent. Because in 30 years from now I want to sit where David sat last night...keenly listening to the dreams and plans of a children's ministry leader whose faith foundation has my initials carved in it's small corner somewhere. Oh, that I could have that privilege someday...

Christ('s)church shaken...

2011-02-28T14:26:00.006+11:00

I'm sure we have all watched on completely stunned and aghast at the terrible tragedy that has befallen New Zealand's second-city Christchurch in light of the recent earthquake. Given the media saturation such natural disasters receive (especially in countries we regard as developed and, even more so, 'western') we have had to deal with frequent common assaults to our senses with awful regularity over the past week. And there could be no more of a visually shocking image than that which has been seared into this white man's consciousness - the sight of the now crumbling edifice that once stood proudly as Christchurch Cathedral. The century-old church is one of the most iconic spiritual centres of Aotearoa, the land of the long white cloud. Yet as it now stands shaken, bowed and de-crowned of it's famous spire, the only cloud that surrounds it is the sadness of its people and the dust of a violent earth. As a single frame, the image of the fallen cathedral appears to represent, frozen in time, the despair of a lovely small city dealing with such a tumultuous and tragic event that literally shook it's foundations to the core.

Upon the occurence of other recent natural disasters around the world such as the S-E Asian tsunami, Hurricane Katrina in the US, the earthquake disaster in Haiti and even the Black Saturday bushfires here in Victoria, Australia, there has been a monotonous chorus of malicious opinion stating that such disasters are the consequence of rampant sin and general Godlessness. This is the viewpoint that believes that countries or regions on the earth vex God so much to the point where He commissions a little 'ground shaking' or oceanwave inundation just to remind those pesky sin-riddled humans who's boss! And it is usually around the 5-6 day mark after such an event that these spiritual doomsayers usually crawl out of their caves and spew forth their highly-convenient invective. Yet it is interesting though, and a good thing I say, that this white man has yet to hear any such forecast explaining the earthquake in Christchurch as being the result of the awful wrath of divine consternation. Well not yet I should add...

Because I guess it's hard, even for the rabid hell fire and brimstone fundamental right of the Christian spectrum to justify how God could have ripped His earth apart and brought a beautiful small city to it's knees in the South Island of New Zealand. Because it's all in the name really. How could God grind out His divine anger against a city called Christchurch? How could the image of a fractured Christ's Church in Christchurch resonate with the very God of love and grace to whom that church belongs?

So at least in the midst of this terrible tragedy and all the destruction the NZ earthquake has wrought, the silence of all the 'righteous haters' out there on the matter of Christ('s)church has been music to this white man's soul. Thank God for at least that one small mercy... And may God continue to defend New Zealand!

God's Revolving Door

2011-02-16T13:33:00.003+11:00

This white man first apologises for the lack of activity in recent months regarding this blog. In some respects I have to admit that my absence from this forum has likely been judicious. For I had been treading a difficult path recently work/ministry-wise and I'm sure my contributions as a result would have strayed uninspiringly into the negative. Put simply, this past six months have been a test of endurance - a very real period of being contained tightly within the 'crucible of suffering and pain'. Emotional pain and spiritual anxiety. But again God has demonstrated to this white man that hope-filled rainbows always follow the deluges of life's storms. And that is my story...or His-story with little old me in it!

The basic premise for why I named this blog "this white man's world" was because of the fact that I really was a 'white man living in a yellow man's world!' Having attended Vietnamese church for 12 years and been a pastor for 6-7 years of those dozen years, that was my reality. Was...

Early in January one night in the early hours I did something I haven't done in many years. Being unable to sleep (unusual for me) and feeling pretty stressed out by church, its senior leadership and the direction it all seemed to be taking I resumed writing a diary. It was nothing less than a vivid outpouring of emotions onto paper; an involuntary vomiting out of emotional hurt and deep anxiety as to my place in church, life, the universe and anything else. The one thing I found myself repeating over and over was for God to show me a way through the messy tangle of church and life that I felt ensnared within. And after two pages of pain settled onto those pages I closed the diary and slept well.

Not long thereafter Phuong, myself and the boys ventured over the city to the east-side as we had made plans to visit the historic train attraction Puffing Billy in Belgrave. Being a Sunday and having two weeks 'break' from Vietnamese church, I randomly decided that we could pop in and pay a visit to my old spiritual home, Camberwell Salvation Army. It was on the way and it is always nice to return and say hello to familiar faces and old friends. So there we went and enjoyed a quiet holiday-style low-key service. After friendly conversation with many people I'd known and grown up with as a kid I then caught up with a young guy, Rick who is now the church's Corps Sargeant-Major, the church equivalent of a typical church secretary/elder. After the obligatory hello...how's it going etc... he asks me this "how would you like a new job!" I was quite taken back for no-one usually asks an employed full-time church pastor if they are interested in another job! So this question was met with a little stunned silence at first but then genuine curiosity. Anyway Rick agreed to send me a position description for a Children & Families pastor role and we went on our way...just wondering at that initial stage..."what if..?"

Then in the coming week I became aware of a newly proposed structure that was going to be ratified at the next Vietnamese church committee meeting. This change in programmatic structure, completely formulated by the senior pastor without my knowledge or collaboration would effectively remove my authority and ability as a pastor in the church to act or decide on any area of children, youth and young adult ministry autonomously. For the past 6-7 years I had served God and His church and led the young people in this way in accordance with the trust that the church congregation had firmly placed in me. But it was clear to me that my authority was being removed and replaced with a system that clearly would have rendered my position ineffective and, as such, untenable. So I had a decision to make - a decision Phuong and I prayed about but ultimately didn't have to sweat over too much. My resignation was given at that Sunday committee meeting and the exit sign over the Vietnamese church front door began to glow brightly. The white man was actually going to leave the yellow man's world!

That night I sent off a letter expressing my interest in the Camberwell Salvation Army pastoral position and just waited on God to see what might happen. To cut a long story short, immediately after being interviewed on the Thursday after resigning, I was offered the full-time position as Children & Families Ministry Pastor. A fortnight earlier I spewed out pain onto a page; now all I could do was to shout out praise and thanksgiving to my God!

And so now I find myself in this new role in a place so familiar. I work out of the house I grew up in for close to ten years. My office, what was once my brother's bedroom, is adjacent to my old bedroom! Very soon I will take up a role teaching RE (Religious Education) during the week at Camberwell South Primary School. I was a pupil at that school from grades 2-6! The word surreal certainly comes to mind! I truly have come full circle it seems and I am back home under the banner of the blood and fire Army!

They say God closes doors only to open new doors. This I completely understand and testify to, but with one significant difference...my door is revolving! My mother recently commented on Facebook that her son has travelled through some interesting and varied chapters in his life. My reply to her then is the same as what I know and am so thankful for deep inside - the chapters of my life have been diverse but I thank God for every one of them because He is the best and most creative Script-Writer one could ever have! Amen!

Free to Be...

2010-10-18T23:26:00.010+11:00

Inadequate...fear...

Insecure soul

Fragmented...scattered

Yearn to be whole

Anxious...questioning...

Doubts rack my mind

Unworthy...guilty...

Sinner defined

Jesus...Messiah...

Mirroring grace

Freedom...forgiveness...

Shadows erase

Teacher...Redeemer...

Showing the way

To freedom...release...

Worries allay

Condemnation...gone...

Gracious and free

Joy overflowing...

Free to be me!

Just free to be...

Grace & Camp Hope...

2010-10-14T16:45:00.003+11:00

Like the rest of the world with access to a television, this white man has been moved in spirit by the amazing rescue effort in the Atacama Desert, Chile that saw 33 trapped miners freed from deep inside the earth after spending some 69 days underground. One-by-one the miners emerged from the bowels of captivity to joyous raptures of nationalistic fervour and emotional outpourings from families, friends, rescuers, media and the Chilean Prime Minister and First Lady. Truly, the execution of the brilliantly devised and implemented plan to free these trapped men will go down in history as one of the most incredible feats of human endeavour.

Physically, the miners all resurfaced in relatively good condition considering the scale of their plight over the past 10 weeks. Emotionally and psychologically-speaking, the toll exacted on these men's souls is sure to be revealed as they wrestle with the demons of their ordeal. Psychologists have already noted that there will be issues for these men in re-settling into normality. Issues with these men re-establishing their roles in their families and re-integrating into local communities. Issues with just basically finding the beat again of the rhythm of life. But one statement by a post-traumatic stress expert commenting on the Chilean rescue drama really got this white man thinking.

The quote went something like this - "some of these men may even miss the mine they were trapped in..." My immediate reaction to this was predictable - how could they miss being stuck 2000 feet underground for ten weeks?! But then I thought again about the statement and began to think through how this really could be true. For ten weeks those men had to re-frame their whole existence deep under the earth. They had to create a mini-society down there with order and structure. They had to submit to a communal code in order to survive - in body, mind and spirit. I could imagine they had to grow to respect, maybe even love the rocky walls hemming them in just to endure their sentence underground with some modicum of sanity. And so, in accordance with some perverse kind of subterranean-Stockholm Syndrome there may well be a man or two who at some point in the vast openness of their re-found freedom crave the walls of simplicity and the relative serenity of their 2000ft tomb. To the normal healthy mind this proposition is madness but we weren't down there...for 69 days...2000ft under.

Is it any different from the many Christians in churches today who have been afforded the greatest most liberating gift one could receive, GRACE, yet still crave to exist within stony tombs of law? Isn't it sadly ironic for the church today that we, as a redeemed and wholly free people of God find ourselves 'suffocating' in our freedom in Christ so we return to the 'oxygen' of law where misplaced comfort is found? Paul letter to the church in Galatia clearly warned that fellowship that law and grace were two realities that could not and should not be mixed. And yet I still see and know free people desperately clinging onto the four-walls of their stone-law entrapment believing that they can somehow traverse and co-exist between both worlds.

Let me provide an example. I recently encountered a worship leader in a church who, in what appears to be a moment of complete ecstacy and freedom in spirit, tells the congregation they must raise their hands and lift their eyes upwards to worship our God in the purest form of adoring perfect worship. New covenant bells and whistles with all the trappings of an old covenant stone foundation. The last time I checked my theological basics, God is believed to be omnipresent. Everywhere...up, down, sideways, diagonal and importantly, within. So who am I raising my hands and eyes to? The Sunday School God who looks like grandfather time and resides perched on a cloud in the sky up there? Life is so much simpler and uncomplicated within the solid walls of the spirit of law - you do it this way, you do it well and God will be pleased with you child...Otherwise....!

So the fact remains - it really is easy to imagine that a relatively small space of confinement that would appear obviously to be a hell-hole could transform into a place of comfort, a haven of safety and security. It works that way in the spiritual - I know that to be true because there's many trapped Christians deep underground in law who need to emerge to the surface of grace. Maybe one day they'll see the sunlight of the real Camp Hope...

A Little House of an Ideal Dream...

2010-10-05T21:56:00.011+11:00

Way back yonder when this white man recalls asking his then-fiancee in Vietnam what her ideal expectation was and/or who her perfect role-model for a husband was I recall she replied in one word..."chac-ly"! Completely confused and not wanting this important point to get lost in translation, I pressed on the matter of who or what "chac-ly" meant.. and eventually I understood. For one of the favourite TV shows in Phuong's little house in a post-1986 Vietnam following the institution of the "Doi Moi" 'opening up' of the regime's economic and social reforms was the classic 70's US frontier drama Little House on the Prairie. And the main star of that wholesome serial, so full of good old Christian values was Michael Landon, who played Charles Ingalls, the father of the Ingalls family. I knew the show for my house back in Australia had grown up with the Ingalls family as well. What I remembered the most was the familiar opening melody of the show and the sight of the three Ingalls daughters running down the hill and the littlest one falling over! As a young boy that must have struck me funny for some reason. So there it was - Charles Ingalls, or as any Vietnamese would refer to him through the best efforts of their local tongue, "Chac-ly" - the model of manhood!

So the benchmark for being the finest husband possible was set. And what a high bar of exemplary moral fibre it appeared to be. For if you know the series, you would understand that Charles Ingalls was a man who was indefatiguable, upright, proud and with manly integrity oozing from his hard-working sweaty pores. He rarely appeared to be dishevelled (has there ever been a more perfect equilibrium of wild manhood in those longish curly locks yet with the femininity of a clean shaven chiseled jaw?), always seemed to have the wisdom of Solomon and yet also possessed the romantic touch, forever greeting his wife Caroline with a kiss and making her feel like a queen. In short, Charles Ingalls elevated the ideal qualities of fatherhood and spousehood to almost divine levels. This white man felt the scrutiny of comparison immediately and deep inside was found scurrying off to the shadows of my relatively mediocre state of manhood. Could I ever rise to the pantheons of "Chac-ly"? Not likely my realistic mind reasoned...

So why this quaint little history lesson some 13 years later you ask? Just the other day I stumbled across 6-7 DVD's spanning the entire seasons length of Little House on the Prairie. So I bought the first season DVD and surprised Phuong with it a few nights ago (just like Chac-ly would have!). We are slowly making our way through the episodes of the first season and are thoroughly enjoying them. Really good, decent, inoffensive stories with sound morality - exactly the kind of watching that is as scarce as hen's teeth these days on TV. The tissue box has been busy and memories have been stimulated as Chac-ly has returned to Phuong's life! But for the white man, as much as I have appreciated the show for what it delivers, some old insecurities started to arise...Am I still living in the shadow of Chac-ly?! Have I lived out a worthy standard as a husband and a father?! I admit to jesting a little in these hypothetical questions but deep inside I still had had this innate need to find some 'dirt' on this Chac-ly, just to balance the ledger! So this white man went digging!

Of course you can't beesmirch a TV character as saintly as Charles Ingalls was because the written character itself would never allow for it. But what about Michael Landon?! I didn't have to dig far to find some measure of manly redemption. Landon died at the age of 54 due to liver and other related cancers, most commonly attributed to the fact that he was a four packet-a-day smoker and a heavy drinker of alcohol. Then I remembered, Charles Ingalls in the show would regularly smoke a pipe! Deliverance at last...a chink in what seemed to be Chac-ly's impenetrable masculine armour and this white man's spine has been that little bit firmer and vertical since!

On a more serious note, how often do we find ourselves craving the ideal utopias we get presented with in life? For in many ways, a Little House on the Prairie is just that - a utopian deeply-held dream and Christian ideal for how living in family and community should be. The near-perfect husband/wife and father/mother raising their well-grounded children in a safe and wholesome community based on flawless Christian values. I asked Phuong if she would have enjoyed to live life back then in a place like Walnut Grove? She replied affirmatively, stating her main reason why - because life was simpler back then. Or in other words, life today just seems to be more complicated and messy. And she's right, it is! But that's real life isn't it - it's grey and blurred where truths get muddied in agendas and politics. A place where the dollar rules and honest integrity is challenged when personal gain is apparent. A place far removed from the majestic oaks and sweetest sentiments of Walnut Grove.

Don't get me wrong though, for this thought won't conclude on such a cynically heartless disrobing of a worthwhile ideal. No episode of Little House... ends that way! Because I have to be honest - I'd like to live in a Little House too and I'd love to be half the man Chac-ly is! I think in some way this is the hope I have - to live in a world a little more saturated with the virtues of God's Kingdom and to be more of a semblance of our world's Creator. There's a place of haven and hope in a Little House on the Prairie and it's been a real pleasure to re-visit that place deep inside this white man's soul...

A Theology of Footy Jumpers

2010-09-23T11:59:00.006+10:00

Well it's the last week of September and the rapidly approaching last Saturday in September means only one thing in the city of Melbourne - the Australian Football Grand Final. This year the two combatants who will contest for Australian footballs greatest prize are Collingwood and St Kilda. And again, this white man has mused at how this major event that Australians observe every year transcends from the sporting green grass of physical endeavour into the spiritual hearts of football devotees in a manner truly of religious proportions.

The AFL premiership cup, often referred to as the "holy grail" of ultimate attainment will be wheeled out again today or tomorrow and symbolically blessed in a church service. Tomorrow a Grand Final parade will bring the heart of Melbourne city's CDB to a standstill as thousands of club supporters line the streets to cheer on a motorcade of their footballing stars in a manner similar of the kind of worship Jesus Christ encountered on His entry into Jerusalem on a donkey. They will repeat over and over the clubsongs of their cherished club - hymn-like anthems that fill a space of deep longing somewhere in the soul of the football fan. When people in Australia flippantly say that Australian football is kind of like a religion I'm not sure they realise how close to the truth they really are. The eerie parallels between the celebration of a game to the worship of God are uncanny indeed.

Which brings this white man to the two teams who will etch their mark this Staurday into AFL immortality in this year's Grand Final. Collingwood, the team universally hated by all except their own fanatical followers and St Kilda, a perennial underdog team bereft of success over their history. Collingwood, symbolised by the Magpie and wearing the 'non-colours' of black and white and St Kilda, the Saints also in black and white but with a red strip as well.

The guernseys are symbolic in a deeper spiritual sense than many would realise. Black and white represents absolutes...polarity...extreme this and that. In a Biblical sense this clearly equates with the Law, for it clearly divided right from wrong...worthiness from unworthiness...holiness from the depravity of sin. And it was only through Jesus Christ that in the realm of spirit, the Law could be forever rendered obsolete and done away with. For He ushered in a new spiritual reality, a dimension of forgiveness and freedom, a new covenant of Grace. It came from the Law but was made perfect in and through the blood of Christ, much like a black and white reality now stained with that saving staining crimson flow. Much like the jumpers of Collingwood and St Kilda - similar in every way but differentiated by a strip of red.

Interesting that the St Kilda club are called the Saints...Interesting that their guernsey takes the colours it does...Maybe there really is a deeper spirituality behind all the rough and tumble of Aussie Rules Football...May the best team win!

Read It & Wept!

2010-09-16T14:02:00.007+10:00

Was it a Mills & Boon heart-warming tear-jerker? A profound piece of spiritual wisdom from a Palestinian goat-hearder's cave that touched the core of the white man's soul perhaps? Was it Shane Crawford's AFL autobiography that culminated in the fairytale Hawthorn 2008 premiership victory? No, it was this tragic informative news article read yesterday. It may have been passed over by many but not by this white man.

In the financial year ending 30 June 2010, the Victorian government received almost $1.7 billion in gaming taxes and other related fees. Yet it should be noted, as the state premier Mr John Brumby certainly made a point of highlighting, that this incoming revenue is $0.02 billion down on last year's annual intake. Because according to Mr Brumby, the decreased intake in 2010 is all due to the fact that "...we've been doing the right things as a Government." That's right! Doing the right thing equates to a decrease of little over 1% and the Victorian state government still has the audacity to maintain it's predictably trotted-out line that it is not gambling dependant. The total state budget is approximately $34 billion of which $1.7 billion comes from gaming revenue. Well by my poor maths that is 5% of the state's total incoming budget. Now as a pastor I know that churches are well and truly dependant on it's members regular 10% tithe and even if you halved the tithe the church would still need every cent of that 5% to keep going. So are you going to insult thinking Victorian's intelligence Mr Brumby by insisting that our state is not dependant on gaming? Would you willingly write off that 5% income without a even the merest twitch of nervousness? Would you still have your job next week Mr Brumby if you did that?

"...we've been doing the right things as a Government..."

This white man's church sits fairly and squarely right in the heart of the municipality of Maribyrnong. It is a fact that the city of Maribyrnong has the highest electronic gaming machine (EGM) density of all the suburban regions in metropolitan Melbourne outside of the inner-city of Melbourne. The city of Maribyrnong also has the highest expenditure on gaming per adult in it's municipality. Unsurprisingly, unemployment is extreme and relative income per adult in the community rates as one of the lowest in Victoria. And whilst it is true that the local council have taken measures in recent years to lessen their pokie venues and numbers of machines in venues, the disproportionate statistics still remain. Surely it stands to reason that if we have legalised gambling in Victoria then at the very least we would want to be seeing more revenue returning back into relevant problem-gambling services in the community. Do we believe it is a just outcome when such a disproportionate amount of this money goes straight back into the pockets of the already overly wealthy gambling industry?

Come on Brumby, get your numbers right. If the gaming industry pay you half a tithe of your total revenue then at least offer back a more acceptable amount to the services and people whose misery is filling your already-bulging coffers. You can't have it both ways - otherwise we Victorians might all start to believe that you are religiously wringing our pockets dry and treating us as fools in the process. Honestly, it's enough to make a grown white man cry...

Have you really "been doing ALL the right things as a government?"

http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2007/09/11/2029426.htm

True Beating Heart...

2010-09-14T09:17:00.004+10:00

In the coming week or two, Australian's will have the very real privilege of watching a special program simply named "Every Heart Beats True..." Now of course, if you are an AFL follower, you will immediately recognise that title, for it is a prominent line in the clubsong of the Melbourne Football Club, the lyric stating in full "every heart beats true for the red and the blue..." But the television expose is not really a story focused on the Melbourne Demons, but rather one of that club's favourite sons, Jim Stynes. More specifically, Jim's recent battle with cancer.

Jim Stynes is one of the real success stories of Australian football. Born and raised in Ireland, he came to Australia as part of an innovative project to recruit Gaelic footballers in Ireland to play Australian football. Few had made the transition successfully but Stynes was a standout - he won Australian Football's greatest individual honour, the Brownlow Medal in 1991 and still holds the all-time record for most consecutive games played without missing a game through injury - 244 games. The awful irony of course is that this iron-man of an athlete who was so indestructible on the field has been so ravaged by disease off the field. But that hasn't stopped the will and determination of Jim Stynes, as the TV story will no doubt highlight.

Much more could be said of Jim Stynes and his remarkable life. One could wax lyrical regarding his charitable concerns, working tirelessly with youth through his Reach charity. But this white man wants to highlight one wonderful quality in Jim Stynes that has come through, not only through the example of his life in general terms but also through this specific amazing revelation. On radio this morning, Jim Stynes revealed that as a part of his regular treatment regime for cancer, he drinks his own urine! He went on to describe how his treatment encompasses "white coat" conventional medication mixed in with alternate therapies and treatments. He also mentioned the fact that he regularly administers coffee enemas to flush out toxins from his body. Now this white man has little idea of the whys, hows and whereforalls of alternate means of medication and treatments for major sicknesses, let alone terminal illnesses. The Vietnamese reliance on regularly applying green oil on their skin for treating everything from muscle aches to the flu is one thing. But drinking one's own urine is something else altogether. So I don't know with any authority if that, as a treatment is effective or not. But that's not the point as far as I'm concerned.

The quality that impresses me most about Jim Stynes is the freedom he has to disclose that he regularly partakes in such a radical treatment. All of us would most likely accept that, when facing such a demon as cancer you would be willing to do just about anything in the hope of extending the quality of your life or even beating the disease. And we may well even be willing enough to go to the lengths of drinking our own urine if we believed that it could help.

But would we ever admit it to the world?

Stynes had this to say specifically on the issue of his cancer and his treatment regime - "I've always tried to be honest. Integrity is the essence of everything. We're never going to be perfect, it's the endeavour that's important," he said. "Why should I be afraid of people seeing who I really am? You've got to walk the talk otherwise you're full of it."

That says to this white man that Jim Stynes is a man very comfortable in his own skin. The self-assurance and integrity of this man is an example to us all. Stynes also had this to say - "When faced with death, the ego just drops its barriers." Self-assured, full of integrity yet humble as well. Who could have known that the man, once a demon could offer such an amazing and inspirational example of personal character.

Jim Stynes, this white man respects you immensely and whatever the outcome of your battle with cancer, you are already a winner because you have left such a positive imprint on people's lives. May God continue to make His face shine upon you Irishman!

The Near Immolation of Decency...

2010-09-11T19:12:00.006+10:00

By now, when you hear the name Terry Jones unfortunately you will probably associate that name with the audacious plan to burn hundreds of copies of the holy Quran on September 11 2010. Alternatively, you still may immediately associate the name Terry Jones with Monty Python, given that the British Terry Jones did direct many Monty Python movies. That Terry Jones was genuinely amusing - Pastor Terry Jones from Gainsville, Florida definitely is not. Pastor Jones' idea for the mass incineration of Islam's holiest book was hatched as a protest against plans by an Islamic organisation to erect a Muslim community center/mosque within the Ground Zero precinct in New York City. Of course since then, Muslim spiritual leaders have accepted an alternate building site for the center and Pastor Jones appears to have suspended his church's belligerent bonfire plans. And thank God for that!

This white man feels no need particularly to point out the obvious or even expand on the craziness of Jones' insane plan to torch the Qurans. Enough outrage in the US and around the world has clearly illustrated the depth of ire against Jones and his fellowship, the Dove World Outreach Centre. By the way, how ironic that his church is identified by the dove, an accepted symbol of peace?! What I want to explore is how the thinking and theology of 'evangelical' Christians can find any legitimacy in such adversarial expressions of faith.

First let the white man unequivocally declare his position as an opponent of Christian fundamentalism. Now when I say fundamentalism I refer specifically to those within the Christian world who advocate extreme polaric theologies that rely heavily on perpetuating fear, promoting self-righteousness and discrediting anyone else who has an alternate belief or viewpoint. In other words controlling, fear-mongering, arrogant and narrow-minded Christians. In my opinion at least, this arm of Christendom is the ugly underside of the belief system I embrace as an ideal designed to operate on the basis of peace, tolerance, humility and love. So how does this pure essence of Christian faith mutate into such a sick and twisted expression of religion?

Well the easy answer is just to point out that people are involved with the transmission of faith in the world. And that when people are involved things are inevitably prone to getting 'messed up' and the pure essence of Christianity compromised and lost. But I guess in the barest and simplest of terms, I think this is the core of the fundamentalist mind and heart; having and propagating a theology of fear that seeks to control those around them. This 'fear factor' then naturally produces an "us and them" mentality by drawing distinctions between the 'saved' and 'unsaved' or the 'Godly' and the 'Satanic'. For by doing this the fundamentalists own position is more securely embedded, providing both a feeling of self-assurance and a high ground of superiority to 'others'.

I've just realised how extensive this subject actually is and how lengthy this blog entry could get. So, without getting into a full-blown sermon, this white man simply says this...If Jesus wanted His pastors who shepherd His church to burn the literature of other faiths then He would have either said so or at least provided us an example demonstrating the truth and principle behind such an action. However, the Gospels I read and love show Jesus saying no such thing nor alluding to the legitimacy of such a divisive discordant attitude and/or action. The Jesus I love loved all, regardless of their race, colour or beliefs. The Jesus I worship and value was the greatest exponent of love this world has ever seen - not a hater in any sense of the word. The Jesus I know is a fundamentalist in only one way - He is fundamentally LOVE.

So grow up Pastor Jones and if you dare, re-evaluate the meaning of Christian faith and love. Tolerance is not weakness and acceptance is not compromise. Don't burn with hatred out of fear, be impassioned with the kind of love that embraces difference. Be secure in who you are -don't be so insecure that you need to push away those different to you. And take note - the extremism you advocate in the name of our God makes you no different to the extremists of other creeds who use fear to terrorise the free world. Truthfully, and in every sense of the words, GROW UP! Grow up in your maturity, your faith and the maturity of your faith!

The Shadowlands of Suicide

2010-09-10T19:36:00.003+10:00

It's a statistic that jumps out and grabs your conscience in a vice-like grip and squeezes...Seven Australians die every day, not from motor vehicle accidents or skin cancer but from suicide. Seven Australians on a daily basis make the grave decision (no pun intended) to end their existence on this earth and carry through with their final act. 180 other Australians attempt to end their lives without success, perhaps failing in that effort but who is to say that they will not be a part of the morbid roll-call of seven tomorrow. And here's another fact - suicide is now the most likely cause of death for men under 44 years of age and for women under 34 years of age in Australia.

This white man is aware that today just happens to be World Suicide Prevention Day and in Australia at least, social and mental health experts are desperately hoping to reduce the social stigma surrounding this deadly issue. The most frustrating aspect of this social issue is the relative lack of support the issue receives from those influential outside of community and mental health sector. It seems that the lack of attention, both real and fiscal paid by governmental departments is staggering when one considers the harsh truth of "the lucky country's" suicide statistics.

For example, Federal Health Minister Nicola Roxon informed guests at a World Suicide Prevention Day function in Canberra this week that the Government has committed $127 million for suicide prevention to 2011. An impressive contribution it would seem on paper but this white man has learnt that not one cent of that $127m will go to assist upgrading practical prevention measures at some of the most well-known and utilised suicide "hot-spots" around the country. The Woollahra council in NSW would appreciate the $3 million it needs to more effectively safeguard The Gap, probably Australia's most notorious suicide spot overlooking Sydney Harbour. But chances are they may not receive what they need to provide the necessary preventions that suicide-affected parents, mental health agencies and local councils have been requesting for years. And if eventually some of that funding does trickle through then how long will it have taken and at what cost in the meantime? Remember - seven Australians a day...

This white man knows that one can't hold one's breath when it comes to prompt action from government departments in social areas when it's really needed. Asphyxiation would be a certainty! As I speak permanent suicide barriers are starting to appear on Melbourne's Westgate Bridge, another well-known suicide destination. A coroners report in 2004 recommended that these barriers be erected on the Westgate Bridge. After 2008, temporary barriers began to appear with their permanent replacements only appearing in the last few months. Yes, the wheels of bureacracy move slow - even when it comes to the area of suicide prevention. But at least they are moving I guess - but again, in the time that has elapsed, what has been the human cost? Seven a day...

Well this white man hopes that this latest federal funding effort is real and not just electoral froth and bubble. Because we all just need to remember and consider this reality - the seven occupied bodybags that will wheel through the doors of our nations various Coronial morgues today, tomorrow and the next day remain as a dark testament to one of the most despicably untreated and stigmatised issues in Australia today. Being informed is a start...being pro-active in caring may well be your next challenge.

Fed Up & Over Fevola!

2010-09-08T20:45:00.002+10:00

This white man believes in the principle that people should be afforded second-chances in life to amend their inadequacies and mistakes. This is a grace principle that should outweigh any legalistic "quick-to-judgement" attitude - well for Christian believers in any case. For that is at the heart of any legitimate Christian testimony - cue John Newton's Amazing Grace, the ageless hymn that reverberates to the core of our soul in and through our Christian faith and experience. This is my heart-felt belief and I try my best to live with integrity and forsaking hypocrisy by sticking with this grace and second-chance principle in alignment with the heart of my God.

But how life always presents challenges to one's best-held values. One such challenge to this white man is an individual named Brendan Fevola. AFL champion footballer, definitively yes...mature role-model and upright citizen of decent moral fibre? Definitively NO! Because it's not just this latest pathetic escapade that has come to light today and seen this buffoon of an individual suspended indefinately by his club for allegedly exposing himself at a family day function. And it's not just a matter of second-chances for Fevola who has had more than his fair share of redemptive hand-ups in life. Honestly, people like Brendan Fevola perplex this white man because they JUST DON'T GET IT and they JUST DON'T GROW UP!

Trust me, I'm not usually one quick to throw stones but how can one help but feel that if only a pebble lay nearby it would be best served travelling with velocity towards Fevola's head just in the hope of knocking some sense into him! He is truly an elite sportsman with the intelligence and decency of an amoeba. But does Fevola deserve another chance? If these latest allegations are proven true should the sporting curtain finally fall on this poor excuse of a man? My heart says he must be given every opportunity to redeem himself as this is the deserved right of any individual breathing the air of this earth. But my head just asks why we should even waste the effort to believe that this guy could ever truly redeem himself in life and finally "get it and grow up".

For the sake of his three young children, who I trust one day can look at their father as their hero and not their embarrassment, I hope Brendan Fevola, one day, can look at himself in the mirror and see worthiness and not the disgrace he currently is. For anyone can move from a place of disgrace into grace if they are willing to accept their frailties and turn things around. Is it in you Fevola? Prove to yourself and your kids that it's possible Brendan! It's never too late to turn things around...

The Red Queen, the Vox Populi and Theocracies?

2010-09-07T17:47:00.003+10:00

So Australia's 17 day period of political purgatory has ended. The knife-edge electoral result has been called. The hung parliament that has literally kept a nation suspended in limbo has dropped the Liberal National Coalition through the dreaded trapdoor whilst the ALP and Julia Gillard have been given their gallows reprieve. Well at least until the next election anyway. Much has been said about the process that has seen a handful of independant MP's decide which political party would be entrusted with governing the nation for the next term of government. And it stands to reason that much discussion will continue as the respective decisions of messrs Bandt, Wilkie, Katter, Oakeshott and Windsor will be dissected ad nauseum. But one quote within the excesses of political diatribe over the past two and a half weeks stands out to this white man as worthy of mention. It was Rob Oakeshott, independant MP fo Lyne who had this piece of wisdom as it relates to the recent clandestine and murky trends in political process in the Australian parliament when he said something to the effect of, "sunshine is the best disinfectant for the current status quo of Australian parliamentary process". In other words, through necessary reforms Australian politics needs to take itself out of the shadows of self-indulgent pontifications and processes and open it's doors to the full scrutiny of the Australian people. Well, the Australian PM Julia Gillard, for the purposes of today at least, agrees with this and has decreed that the now duly elected governing ALP will "draw back the curtains and let the sunshine in." Well we'll see about that over the coming months but the essence of that "sunshine sentiment" is a worthy and valid one indeed.

Because despite the long-winded political shenanigans over the past 17 days (not withstanding the four week electoral campaign prior to the hung parliament result), one thing can be agreed on - the democratic processes of this nation, whether you like them or not, always dictates that the voice of the people, the vox populi is heard. And this historic electoral result ensured that generally-speaking, the Australian electorate sent a clear and firm message to both major parties that we are not happy at being continually presented with inept party policies and processes and equally inept leadership. And as such the people spoke and this time this white man has the feeling that the leadership will listen. Well at the very least I trust that the independant MP's influence in the parliament, combined with the slimmest margin of power will hold all processes within the government and opposition parties accountable on behalf of the Australian people. That's why this crazy political result may have more than just a silver lining - it may just bring with it a little ray of sunshine for the sake and benefit of our nation's political integrity.

Which finally brings this white man to the matter of theocracy. What does a theocracy have to do with all the above you ask? Let me explain...recently a young person in church reflected this thought to me as far as church governance is concerned. "Things would be a lot better if all decisions in church were just made by the one person...things would happen a lot quicker... too many people have too much say in decision-making and it's a waste of time to the point that nothing gets decided upon and nothing gets done...there's too much democracy in church - things would be better if we instituted a theocracy instead!"

Well first let it be said, and I believe I reflected this encouragement to the youth who voiced this opinion, that at least this person had the courage of their convictions to express an opinion to their pastor. Many youth these days are so apathetic and non-committal that drawing an opinion out of them is like pulling teeth! But nevertheless, this white man is fairly sure that a theocracy, in accordance with it's definition, is a governmental form that recognises God, or any other deity as it's head. This is usually held within the context of governments ruled by or subject to religious authority and/or it's deity. To the best of my knowledge, all Christian churches, if they are doctrinally true to their Christian identity, would claim to acknowledge God as the only authorised head of our church. No-one in the Christian church is going to argue with that. So we acknowledge the spiritual theocratic right of, and the reality that our God does rule over His Church. But what it seems this young person desires for his church is a spiritual theocracy alongside a practical system of human pastoral autocracy. And many churches these days function in direct alignment with this principle of pastoral leadership. It's the system that has given rise to hierarchical structures of church governance and power, led usually by a senior pastor who has the ultimate voice and power within that community. And for many faith communities this structure seemingly works perfectly - well at least for as long as the pastor at the top carries the duties of his position with due Christian integrity and responsibility. But when such structures break-down how often are people in faith communities told to just "swallow and follow" and that if they don't then they know where the door is?! Autocratic church structures minus principles of democracy can easily end up equalling really uncomfortable, tense churches containing estranged, alienated believers . Surely this kind of unholy equation isn't God's design for His church is it?

So in summary, this white man suggests that if this recent political scenario provides any worthwhile example at all, that perhaps we in the church should be reminded that the voice of the people is a compelling voice indeed. And that the democracy we are blessed to live under in this nation still has a viable and dynamic presence that doesn't stop at the doors of our churches. Yes, democracy sometimes makes things take longer and seem more complicated. But are expedient alternatives more worthy? My wife reminded me in no uncertain terms that a 17 day period of political mediations just would not happen in her homeland. An outcome over there would be more likely to have acquired a solution via fists, bullets and prison cells rather than through dignified conciliation and consultation. So perhaps there really is something in this thing called democracy - it's alternative, whether within the greater society or within the institution called church is just frightening. This white man embraces democracy and always will - even in the church!

But for now this white man also bows down and willingly hails the Red Queen!

Cockroaches...and Jesus!

2010-09-06T22:04:00.004+10:00

This white man always finds in interesting to trawl through the technology news on his internet homepage. Today was no exception, reiterating the fact that often the stories found there are more thought-provoking than the main news page. This is what caught the white man's eye - "cockroaches may help beat 'superbugs'". The link to the article is here http://news.ninemsn.com.au/technology/7957121/cockroaches-may-help-beat-superbugs

But in summary, the story highlights current research that appears to support a theory that the antibodies held within the common cockroach may be effective in treating super-resistant strains of infection in humans. So there it is - those filthy, repulsive, dingy-dwelling pests may end up being one of humanity's primary weapons against infections and sicknesses. The bugs we love to annihilate with a shoe or foot stomp could be our hope, our lethal weapon against our 'bugs'. There's a creepy kind of irony in that!

Of course, this principle of the least serving the needs of humanity should come as no surprise to Christian believers. For in Jesus, we have the greatest example of one who was trodden on and, for all intensive purposes became nothing more than a dirty cockroach nailed to a cross with all the repulsiveness of the world's sin upon Him. What an irony...what a miracle, that Jesus the cockroach would also have within His being the ultimate antidote to the most super-resistant and lethal of afflictions - sin. So the next time, just before your shoe comes crushing down to obliterate the next unfortunate cockroach who invades 'your' world, remember that even in the least of what seems to be insignificant or even unworthy of existence there can be some good that you may just benefit from one day!

And remember - even the cockroaches have their created purpose for being...God wouldn't have bothered otherwise!

Fatherhood & Heroism...

2010-09-01T20:17:00.003+10:00

This white man has been thinking about fatherhood in the past few days. Fear not, there are no new prospects of fatherhood on the horizon! Our two sons are a blessing and any more blessing would be just greedy...not to mention plain miraculous! No, I've been pondering fatherhood upon seeing the many reminders of the impending Father's Day this Sunday here in Australia. Cards in shops, cheap aftershave lotions for "dashing dads", socks and jocks and so on...all the usual shopping mall trappings celebrating and selling Father's Day.

Watching a recent documentary here on Aussie TV about the story of one of Australian Football's great players, Ben Cousins and his battle with drug addiction also reminded this white man about fatherhood. Because whilst the doco focused on the obvious struggle of an elite athlete dealing with substance abuse, a high-profile sporting career and his life spiralling out of control, in my opinion the real hero of the story was Ben Cousin's father. This pretty ordinary bloke, Bryan Cousins is the father of a champion footballer yet what truly emerged is the fact that Bryan Cousins is a champion father in his own right. He supported his son through dark moments, an uncertain future, even accompanying his son to an 'appointment' to pick up drugs. Bryan Cousins never gave up on his son, no doubt through many times of doubt, fear and disappointment. He would not be moved from his son's side and stood firm for the sake of his son. That's a true father...a true hero.

And then tonight this white man was watching the latest big thing on the Australian small screen, the X Factor. Another talent show for hopeful singers and entertainers, part of the initial charm of such shows as X-Factor is the audition process where we are presented with all sorts of wannabee stars with dreams and aspirations that often outmatch their skills and talent. So contestants are paraded out in all their vocal/theatrical ineptitude much to the collective mirth of a nation well versed in the art of laughing hardest at the easiest of targets. And of course tonight was no exception, but there was one of those 'grey' moments of uneasy tension when the audience and the judges wanted to laugh and dismiss the efforts of just another 'try-hard' but they couldn't really do it because there was a compelling 'story-behind-the-story' happening before them. This 38 year-old Greek man comes out and performs a more-than cheesy rendition of an old Rick Astley pop classic from the 80's. It was a forgettable performance that would usually be written off with a parting cutting shot, usually from that bileduct of a man, Kyle Sandilands. But not this time...why? Because this very ordinary balding, unctuous-looking Greek bloke had his nine year-old son out the back listening intently and appreciating the performance of his dad...his hero. For sure this man would never sell a song in a deafness institute, let alone ever have a hope of selling a CD. But that didn't matter to that young boy out backstage, crying and hugging his dad with pride for what was, in his estimation, the greatest performance since, well...Rick Astley. Because it was about something more than the quality of a song or a well-rehearsed performance - it was about a son first encouraging, then seeing his ordinary dad living a dream...being a hero...his hero...his dad.

And so this white man is reminded that there is something very powerful in the way that a son can see his father. Sons want to see their dads as their heroes; actually they need to see them that way. And the same for daughters as well with their fathers and mothers. Traditionally I don't pay that much attention to events like Mother's Day and Father's Day, not because I'm uncaring or lacking in sentiment but simply because every day should celebrate such remembrances. That's a lesson taught to me by my own parents that remains as their legacy. Yet this Father's Day I will hold this truth close to my heart - that my sons look to me as a hero...their hero. And that I'm balding, I'm 38 and I'm not much of a singer, but I am a dad and my sons don't need a Pavarotti but they do deserve a hero!

And have a Happy Father's Day Dad!

Abstract Thinking...

2010-08-29T19:14:00.003+10:00

This white man has always prided himself on being a person who has the propensity to "think outside the box". I've always viewed narrow-mindedness as the curse of simpletons and, as a pastor always encouraged the youth of my fellowship to expand their thinking laterally and beyond. For this white man is convinced that our Creator's intention for His creations is to have a like-mind like Him. A creative mind...a limitless imagination...a soul that can embrace all life's mysteries and more...Too often I lament church fellowships that seem to have a drop-in box at their church entrances for members to dutifully place their brains inside before they can enter in to worship and engage intelligently with God's Word! The faith in Jesus we have as Christians is a precious thing...so is the intelligence He created us with to use wisely and judiciously.

Anyway, all that being said, this white man was suitably impressed tonight over dinner when his youngest offspring decided to prove the measure of his 7 year-old abstract mind. Like a "chip off the old block" young Luc demonstrated that perhaps the power of an open-mind may well be genetic. It started with a simple party pie that Luc complained was too hot to eat and too messy for his clean fingers. It ended with a straw stuck in his party pie as he syphoned out all of that 'healthy' meaty goodness through that plastic straw, leaving the empty husk of a pastry shell as testament to his creative genius. No mess...too easy! The party pie may have been left empty but Luc's glass of creativity is very much full!

I Am Not Forgotten...Anywhere!

2010-08-24T23:29:00.008+10:00

No-one likes being forgotten. Your birthday missed or your invitation to a party overlooked... regardless of the lapse, being forgotten kicks you that touch harder than other knocks in life. Maybe it stings that little bit more because being forgotten makes one feel a bit insignificant and unworthy. Like you're unimportant and so obviously invisible enough to be disregarded.

Last Sunday night at church our young adults group, otherwise known as CONNECT convened for our fortnightly gathering. As is often our want, we decided as a group to eat out and the most convenient venue of choice was that well known pizza franchise La Porchetta. And so off we went with this white man salivating at the prospect of a good La Porchetta Original pizza. And we get to the restaurant and the pre-meal rituals of menu examination and gathering condiments such as chilli and tabasco sauce were carried out without much fuss. And then it happened...a dark realisation hit us hard...where was Anh? One of our young adults was unaccounted for. I asked the drivers, who did he travel with? None could confirm that he'd travelled with anyone. And the truth dawned with a heaviness in this white man's ample winter gut - he'd been left back at church. Probably in the toilet for that was the only explanation possible. And so I visualised this poor fellow sitting there in his cubicle minding his own business when the lights would have suddenly switched off, plunging him into pitch blackness. And after finishing his task, he would have stumbled out into our foyer only to be greeted by dark silence and definitely no pizza. He didn't have a car and he was locked in the church grounds as the front gate had been locked. This young man had been forgotten!

One of the group travelled back to church and found the young man walking home on the dark, bad streets of Footscray. Eventually he made it to La Porchetta and after profuse apologies and, this white man will admit some laughter, his pizza was paid for by us all. And my suspicion was confirmed - he was going about his business when all of a sudden his quiet moment of solitude literally turned very dark! Fortunately he had enough moonlight through a window in there to conclude his oblutions! Forgotten in the toilet...does it get any worse than that?

Besides the practical lesson this white man learnt the other night to always check the church toilets before locking up I was also reminded of a deeper truth. Regardless of where we find ourselves in life we are never forgotten by our God. Even when we're knee-deep in life's effluent and lost in the struggles that life brings, our God never forsakes or forgets us. We are never far from His mind and never disregarded as insignificant or worthless. A simple truth yes, and the reminder given in less than ideal circumstances, but isn't that God's way? So there it is - I am not forgotten, He know's my name! And there are no toilet doors in this entire universe that can obscure us from God's love!

Hung Up On An Election!

2010-08-23T21:09:00.005+10:00

Another election was called for; another Saturday feverishly spent at the polling booth exercising one's democratic right as an Australian citizen. We all anticipated a close election result - many saying that Australia's choice between the Coalition's Tony Abbott and ALP's Julia Gillard was more accurately a choice of who appears less incompetent. But this white man wasn't sure Australians neither anticipated or were ready for the constitutional mess we find ourselves in now. For neither major party gained the necessary number of seats to claim a majority nor a clear mandate to claim government. And so it seems, at least for now that Australia has a hung parliament. The first time this has happened in Australia's political history since WW2, some 70 years ago. So what happens now this white man asks?

What happens now is shameless sycophantism...Now we see the flame-haired Judas, Julia Gillard and the human-Speedo, Tony Abbott charming and petitioning those 4-5 independent members who now hold the balance of power in the lower house of parliament. "Choose me!"..."No! choose me!" Well this white man says "choose what?" Choose a party that has governed for only one term and has clearly lost the confidence of the majority of Australians who elected them? Lost confidence for good reason I add - the ALP's litany of disasters over the past three years in office has been terrible. Or do you choose the Coalition, a party with heavy iron-fisted policies on just about everything from asylum seekers to workplace relations. And with a leader who admits to not always telling the truth (not that he's alone in Canberra's honesty stakes)?

For sure this white man understands why this election saw the highest amount of informal or 'donkey' votes recorded. Because when you've only got donkeys to choose from then where else is your vote going to go?! I say put the donkeys out to pasture...perhaps a GREEN pasture?!

Wearing the Wrong Shoes?

2010-02-11T13:22:00.002+11:00

There can be no doubt that making the transition from one country, with it's prevailing culture to another land with a profoundly vast and differing worldview provides a challenging experience. Hence, the experience of many migrants coming to Australia also presents it's own series of challenges and life-lessons. And this is equally true of the Vietnamese community that now enjoys a better standard and quality of life here in Australia. With the majority of Vietnamese migrants to Australia having arrived here as refugees, most with horrific and deeply traumatic stories as their predominant baggage, stories of pain and hardship are being transformed into testimonies of success and prosperity. Generally, the first-generation of Vietnamese arrivals to Australia have worked extremely hard to establish themselves and their families into the greater community. They have created a materially secure foundation for their future generations to build upon. And for many of those original Vietnamese refugees, their hope continues to rest with their Australian born children and grandchildren. For these generations are endowed with a world of opportunity to succeed and get ahead in life in a way the first generation never had the chance to.

And yet, within this optimistic picture of arrival, consolidation, hard-work, opportunity, success, wealth and security, there is also a shadow-side which second and third generation Vietnamese in Western countries consistently endure. It is the flash-point in conflicting cultures surrounding the issue of parental desires for their children's future as opposed to that actual persons individual wishes for their future. This murky grey area of conflict was highlighted again recently in the tragic case of a 31 year-old Vietnamese American man who in a fit of rage strangled his mother. This story is highlighted in full at this link: http://www.nguoi-viet.com/absolutenm/anmviewer.asp?a=108035&z=19

It seems that for that man, the burden of his mother's demands in dictating his future became too much and he snapped in a moment of violent madness. It may well be that other factors were also relevant to this case but nevertheless, the issue was well and truly reiterated - the Asian cultural practice of dictating to your child as a parent their study and career paths can have dramatic consequences. Especially so when this cultural expectation clashes with the Western ideal of individualistic choice in determining one's own future.

There is an old Nordic tale of a native indigenous man who lived in the wild, snowy wilderness near the Arctic circle in northern Norway. He had only ever lived in snow and as a result he only ever wore snow shoes - footwear that resembles the frame of a tennis racquet. This footwear served the purpose of his getting around on foot in the snow and it was all he knew. Now for some reason this man found himself needing to go to Oslo, the capital city of Norway. He packed his few belongings and got a train down to a civilisation he had never encountered before. He disembarked the train and started to walk in his snow shoes towards the exit gate. But he was not walking very well and eventually he tripped over, not just once but two, three and four times. He was walking in his snow shoes on dry land and he had never walked on land without a covering of snow before. An interested and somewhat amused on-looker advised the man that he should take off his snow shoes or else he would find it extremely difficult to get around Oslo. He even offered the native a pair of shoes to help him. But the man refused the offer - he would not take off his snow shoes and he struggled on regardless. He was too proud to admit his footwear was inadequate for his new surroundings and too fearful to remove that which he had walked with his entire life.

As the Vietnamese community here in Australia, it would be wise sometimes to reflect whether or not we are wearing the wrong shoes around for the land we now inhabit. For when it comes to approaching the issue of what our second and third generations desire for their futures here in Australia, perhaps the most appropriate support we can offer them is to step back and allow them to pursue their own vocational aspirations. This may be a humbling experience and will most likely go against every cultural instinct we've grown up with but it is the correct path to take. For if the first generation of Vietnamese can not give up their vicarious dreams for their children, then maybe they risk losing the love and respect of their children altogether. Parents - is the doctor, lawyer or pharmacist aspiration for your child worth the pain of a broken relationship? Is it a cross you are placing on your child that is not just overbearingly heavy but just plain wrong? Is your comparison of your family's status to others ultimately healthy, let alone fulfilling? 2 Corinthians 10: 12 that reminds us "we do not dare to classify or compare ourselves with some who commend themselves. When they measure themselves by themselves and compare themselves with themselves, they are not wise. "

Perhaps it's timely again to check what shoes you are wearing for this cultural terrain called Australia. And perhaps it is time you removed the heavy cross of your own dream-fulfillment you've burdened your children with. Perhaps it's time to let go of this truly self-centred part of yourself and open your eyes to a different way of thinking in this land of freedom and opportunity. Have you still got your snow shoes on?

Heart of Winter...

2009-07-23T10:57:00.003+10:00

Here, deep in the winters heart
Falls drops of icicle gold
From heaven to earth to me
Truth comes from storehouses cold

Reminding me of seasons
Life's chill lasts but for a day
A new spring dawns tomorrow
Warm suns rise over the way

And yet whilst now tears frozen
Drench the earth with God's blessing
Beautiful the cold morning
Songs of praise now expressing

To our God who made seasons
Even cold wind's biting air
Thank you for reminding me
That your joy is everywhere

In both coldness and in warmth
And in clouds and clear skies too
Life is life and hope is hope
May our souls rest well in You...

Shalom...

2009-07-08T23:45:00.003+10:00

The throne of God

Where smoke ascends

Comes saintly prayers

From God's true friends

But not from song

Or spoken prayer

The hungry fed

Because they care

Our Sundays best

Is seen as vain

A hobo helped

His home a lane

The smoky plume

Shows justice done

With life stained hands

A battle won

Let justice flow

Let true love show

May God be pleased

Shalom below...

Hysteria = 100 million + one dead king of pop!

2009-07-01T21:54:00.007+10:00

Hysteria:- a state of extreme emotion: a state of extreme or exaggerated emotion such as excitement or panic...

If there is anything in today's world absolutely guaranteed to induce wide-spread epidemics of hysteria then it is the chance of becoming a multi-millionaire. In a similar way, the death of a famous mega-star will also produce an unparalleled hysterical reaction. These two realities have intertwined this week in a crazy five day period like no other in recent memory. This white man will never forget seeing long queues of people extending out from newsagents and Tattslotto agencies into the centre walkways of major shopping centres this week seeking their chance of fortune courtesy of a 100 million lotto draw, a record draw in Australian history. Ten million tickets were sold for the draw, that's one for every two Australians living in the 'lucky country'. Two people did get lucky, sharing the major prize and instantly becoming multi-millionaires in the process. Good for them! They are sure to be instantly rich, but also instantly people's 'best friends'. They're sure to have instant stress and instant anxiety as to how to deal with their sudden wealth. Good luck! As for the rest of Australia who lined up and hoped beyond hope that their lucky numbers would fall - well this white man says get over it. I heard today that there is more chance you could be pooed on by a flying bird than win Tattslotto. Funny that - getting pooed on by a bird is deemed lucky in some cultures! Maybe all those million dollar dreamers should just queue up in the Melbourne Zoo aviary - they'd be sure to strike it lucky there!

And then there was MJ...Michael Jackson, the self-professed king of pop died last Friday morning aged 50, apparently the result of cardiac arrest mixed with prescription drug abuse. And then the world went into a hysterical meltdown the likes of which haven't been seen since the tragic accidental death of Princess Diana in 1997. In the past six days since Jackson's death, he has dominated news coverages, current affairs programs and numerous television docos have aired as tributes to the enigmatic freakshow genius entertainer who was Michael Jackson. The maligned sicko in life has now seemingly become some kind of messianic superstar in his death. All of the eccentricities, from his ghoulish appearance to his penchant for companionship with children all seem to have been waylaid post-mortem. Again, a saint is being made of a man who was nothing more than a social misfit with strange tendancies. This white man says remember Michael Jackson for who he really was - yes, a wonderfully gifted entertainer who bought musical enjoyment to millions world-wide. But he must always be remembered as an oddity of life; someone who thought he could do whatever he wanted in his own little fantasy world. I never liked either his music or his lifestyle but that is just my opinion. Let history judge him in a realistically balanced way. No-one is ever simply black or white...

Sleazy Old Men, Tattoos & "Ute-Gate"!

2009-06-23T19:04:00.003+10:00

Often times things in life are not what they seem. Likewise, people are not always what they seem and what they say can be equally duplicitious. This week this white man stumbled on three random examples of pure charlatanism - one at his gym, another in the news and the final example in this nation's parliament. What do they prove? Simply that there are no bounds when it comes to two-faced people talking total rubbish for their own questionable means.

After a good work-out in my gym yesterday, I took a spa with most of the usual pool-users around 10AM most mornings. My spa companions consist of a regular group of 50-60 year old Greek/Italian men who, at the best of times are raucously loud and generally mischievous. A pain in the Speedos but generally harmless. Most of their conversation always reverts to their mutual 'admiration' of the few young females who enter the pool/sauna/spa area whilst they are there. Yesterday a young Filipino woman, a new member apparently, came into the spa whilst the most boorish of these older Mediterranean sleaze-bags was there. Talk about Casanova's most lecherous demon suddenly manifesting in the flesh! If this old rat could have bent over backwards any more for this poor unsuspecting woman he truly would have been kissing his own backside! It was a disgrace - the old sleaze was all over this woman - even offered her a back-rub in the spa. And if you believed this 'gentleman' it was simply just his hospitable nature welcoming this new lady to the Ascot Vale Leisure Centre Aquatic area. What it really was was just a gross opportunistic sleazy advance on a young woman who I doubt will ever take a spa or sauna again at the centre. Remember I mentioned that not many young women use the spa area in the morning between 10AM - 1PM? Now you know why! Simply sleazy lies!

Then I hear on the news today that the Belgian girl who suffered the apparent indignity of having half of her face tattooed while asleep(?) and claimed that she hadn't requested all those stars actually lied. She wanted all 56 stars on her face, for reasons I wouldn't know, but when her father expressed his horror at the situation then she concocted the "negligent tattooist" story. When I first heard about this story I immediately smelled a rat as I know that nobody, unless you're completely anaethesized or on some other drug, falls asleep during the process of getting a tattoo. And so her truth came out in the end and the tattooist, who himself resembled nothing less than a human freakshow, was vindicated. Lies and more lies!

And finally, when you look to your nation's governmental leadership for a good example of decency, transparency and honest sincerity you get "ute-gate!" It has been established now by an Aust Federal police investigation that someone in Canberra thought it would be a fine idea to implicate the Prime Minister Kevin Rudd and the Treasurer Wayne Swan in a "funds for friends" type scandal that involved a fraudulent email and all sorts of political skullduggery. In short, someone lied in their attempt to smear Australia's leader and all fingers are pointing towards the Liberal Party. When the controversy first aired, the Opposition Leader Malcolm Turnbull was very pro-active in promptly suggesting Mr Rudd immediately apologise for this "scandalous error of judgment" and resign. Now Mr Turnbull finds the tables well and truly turned and he himself is being asked to pen his resignation over this fake effort to besmirch Mr Rudd and the ALP. Lies, lies and more lies!

Eventually your lies always find you out. It's simply a matter of when. Whether it's a lecherous old Greek geezer in a spa, or a naive silly Belgian woman with a faceful of potential regret or some yet un-named public servant responsible for what will prove to be one of the most infamous 'brilliant' cunning plans ever to backfire, the point is the same. Two-faced lies ultimately reveal their source to be exactly what they are - basic liars! The truth always comes out...Funny that, considering we all live under the watchful eye of a Creator God who, as one of His inherent divine qualities states, is TRUTH! When will people learn?!

My Hillsong Hiatus...

2009-06-18T15:05:00.007+10:00

In a couple of weeks many young people in my church and other church-goers will be making their annual pilgrimage to Sydney, NSW for the Hillsong Conference. Over the past three years, this white man has accompanied the masses to 'megachurch Mecca' and, if really honest, gained a lot from the conference experience. So coming up to this time of year, I have had many youth presume that I'm again going to be a guest of the Houstons in the first week of July. And they have appeared slightly bemused when told that this year I'm not going. I have explained to many that I need to be around this year for planning purposes re. our own church's National Youth Conference at the end of this year. True in some part but not entirely. So I want to explain the real reasons I'm not going to Hillsong Conference this year...or to any Hillsong Conferences in the foreseeable future for that matter!

First, this year the headlining keynote speaker at Hillsong Conference is Joel Osteen. For those unaware, Osteen is the pastor of America's largest church, Lakewood Church in Houston, Texas. He is also one of the most outspoken apologists of the "prosperity gospel". In essence, this man holds the belief that the strength and sincerity of your Christian faith is inextricably linked to the state of your assets and income. In other words, the stronger in faith, the richer in wealth. It is the view that God's grace isn't just a reflection of your forgiveness, salvation and righteousness, but is tangibly linked with his blessing on your life in terms of your material prosperity. There is no other warped twisting of God's Word and Being that infuriates this white man more than prosperity gospel thinking. I've never once heard of any legitimately struggling, materially poor person of God spruiking prosperity gospel nonsense. I guess it really must only be the wealthy Kingdom-dwellers who are most blessed - Jesus must have 'unintentionally' left that one off His Beatitudes list! So with Joel Osteen headlining Hillsong Conference this year there is no chance I'd be supporting him or his ministry team in any way, shape or form.

Secondly, I have had a gutful of Hillsong Church themselves and their adherence to all things prosperity gospel. As a church they boast an annual income in excess of 50 million per annum. And I acknowledge that it is their money - what they choose to do with it is up to the church leadership in accordance with the agreeance of those members who make their own choice to give their titles and offerings into Hillsong. I guess I have just come to realise that they really don't need my paltry once-a-year offering of my time and money into their conference coffers and, more the point, I don't need to offer it. Actually, to be more precise, I don't want to offer it! I know Hillsong have more than enough people in their fields 'sowing seed into their harvest'. My seed would be better sown elsewhere. If there is a more materially-driven body of Christ in this nation than Hillsong Church then I'd like to know about them! They are as much prosperity gospelists as Osteen and Lakewood Church - perhaps just not as prosperous?! Yet!

Lastly, last year Hillsong Conference finished on the usual high it does on a Friday night with a praise & worship celebration night. The highlight of which was the appearance of one Michael Guglielmucci who, complete with oxygen mask etc... performed his renowned worship song "Healer". Following this, with 20 000 other attendees mostly in tears, including myself (unashamed to admit that given I cry once-a-week on cue when watching Find My Family!) watching on, Guglielmucci was prayed over by some of the most famous Christian speakers today. Of course this all happened before the sensational revelation that the whole Guglielmucci terminal cancer story was simply an elaborate, if not confusing hoax to deflect attention away from his real confessed condition of having a pornography addiction. Anyway, as far as I'm concerned there are two issues that I still cannot reconcile regarding the whole Guglielmucci scandal - if Hillsong church and their leadership are meant to be the 'spiritual giants' and 'front-runners' of this nations collective local Church with supposedly the most spiritually-intune Christians in their fold then why did not any of them discern or detect some issue with Mike Guglielmucci's situation? Was the devil just way too sneaky when it came to Mike and his 'cancer'? And secondly, I have seen few, if any sincere attempts by Hillsong to maturely and positively deal with the scandal from their end. Yet all it seemed they were interested in was pulling their CD's with his songs on them off the shelves so as not to tarnish their precious name. Constant trawling and copyright restraining of Youtube downloads of the song "Healer" also make Hillsong look bullyish and petulant. What I have still to reconcile in myself is that I was present, I was witness to and I was spiritually moved by what ended up being one of the greatest church shams this nation has ever seen in recent times. And for that, at this time at least, I am unwilling to return to the venue where I was duped and played for a fool.

So this white man isn't attending Hillsong Conference this year. By no means is this a protest against Hillsong and my views must not be taken as authoritative and even definitively correct. They are just my views - nothing more, nothing less, take them as you please. And as I said before, I won't be returning in the foreseeable future. I never say never because who knows; maybe one day Hillsong church might begin to see past the collection plate and return to what I believe is a truer essence of Christian living - something like what Micah spoke of in 6:8 - that is living out justice to the poor, loving mercy and walking with God in humility. So there it is...bye-bye Brian and Bobby...have a 'richly' blessed conference!

The Return!

2009-06-05T18:51:00.002+10:00

The white man has returned! Sound the anthems, blast those trumpets, brush the webs off the podium for this white man's one month sabbatical is over! Now, having got that opening self-indulgent diatribe out of the way, time for some truth-telling. The truth is this - this blog space, this haven from the buffeting waves of life had not been fulfilling it's proper purpose. Rather than being a therapeutic outlet for the whinges and whimsical wisdom of the white man, this blog had become a circus of superficiality for nothings sake. Don't get me wrong - I enjoy the lighter side of life as much as the next clown but if this blog is to mean anything to it's creator then it has to be true to the sensibilities of the creator.

Hence, one difference in this renewed white man's world is that there will probably not be an entry every day. How quickly a tool can become the master - the self-induced pressure to put something on here on a daily basis was unreasonable and ridiculous. That's why much of late April and early May was 'devoted' to vacuous pictures of kids stuck in toilets and so on...that was reason enough for this white man to take a contemplative break from a world slowly becoming a joke. Again, be rest assured that this world isn't going to transform into a 21st century version of the book of Lamentations. There'll still be those lighter moments, for the what the wise one once said still holds true; if you don't laugh you'll cry! But there'll definitely be more reflective wisdom, poetic masterpieces (in the poets mind anyway!) and theological commentary.

That's all for now - the white man looks forward to making his world here a better place, a more sincere place and a realm he feels happy to be king in once more!

Maker...

2009-05-06T22:53:00.003+10:00

Prismic brilliance, light refracts

Word speaks power, darkness cracks

Space torn open, sky is made

Earth appears, foundations laid

Life pours down in raindrops clear

Maker smiles at His blue sphere

Green plants breathe as one in praise

Sun joins in with warming rays

Small fish move in rhythmic waves

Brown bats hang in hollow caves

Field mice run in open fields

Night owls watch, their instinct yields

Then from the earth, man appears

Crowning glory soon in tears

Eden lost, perfection fades

Creation groans, sin cascades

The Makers heart bleeds broken

A cross cries pain unspoken

But love holds strong to a place

A garden of peace and grace

Where we all can choose to live

If only we freely give

Our life to the Maker's hand

Back to where His love shaped man...

No Place Like Home...

2009-05-05T23:24:00.001+10:00

Funny Video

2009-05-04T17:23:00.003+10:00

It pays not to mix karaoke, a tone-deaf voice and alcohol!

Verse of the Day...

2009-05-03T00:00:00.000+10:00

Poor Kid!

2009-05-02T23:55:00.002+10:00

Now that's what I'd call unfortunate, but funny...

Busy busy...

2009-05-01T11:48:00.005+10:00

Please excuse the lack of posts in the last couple of days - this white man has been quite busy with this and that.

So at the end of a hectic week I believe an evocative reflection is in order...

"As a child my mother would always tell me not to sit so close to the TV, that it was bad for my eyes. Now, as an adult I spend 8+ hours a day within 2 feet of a computer screen."

Figure that out!

Swine Flu...

2009-04-28T23:14:00.002+10:00

It seems that the latest potential global pandemic, the swine flu has already made it's way into Australia. Frightening news in some ways and also news that could easily have the potential to produce hysteria and community panic. It is reported that 88 Australians are currently suspected of swine flu.

http://news.ninemsn.com.au/article.aspx?id=807347

Hopefully this flu strain will eventually come under control as other influenzas of recent times have. Chicken flu, avian bird flu, SARS etc... appear to have been reigned in - let's pray that the swine flu similarly passes with a minimum of damage.

Just A Game?

2009-04-27T23:33:00.006+10:00

Any Australian football fan knows that when it comes to Anzac Day then that occasion is synonymous with one game of football - Collingwood versus Essendon. And that particular game certainly lived up to all expectations this year. Essendon, down by 15 points with around four minutes left of play, needed three goals to win. They managed to dig deep and got their three goals and scraped home to win by five points. Some said Essendon won that game while others lamented that Collingwood lost it. Someone else had another opinion...

After the game, Collingwood coach Mick Malthouse made this extraordinary comment about his team; "today we let the Anzacs down..."

Now this white man loves Australian football. I've watched it and loved it for as long as I can remember. Footy has been always with me, always been a part of me and will remain so for as long as I live. Even when I travelled the world I still listened to football broadcasts on my short-wave radio. An enduring memory I will carry forever was listening to the 1996 Grand Final whilst sitting on the roof of the Kathmandu Lodge Hotel in Kathmandu, Nepal. AFL is in this white man's blood for sure. But back to Malthouse...

For all of what the Anzac Day clash between traditional rivals, Collingwood and Essendon signifies, surely one thing has to be patently clear. In no way ever can a simple game of football even come close to comparing with the horrors of what our servicemen endured on the battlefronts and in the trenches of war. Two teams playing football are not opposing nations killing each other in the name of war. So with that in mind, where does Mick Malthouse get the idea that his football team "let down the Anzacs". Australian's died in war for the sake of our nation's freedom - they sacrificed themselves for an ideal - freedom from tyranny. The pure fact that close to 100 000 people have the freedom to meander down to the MCG on a lazy Saturday afternoon is testament to what Australia's Anzacs died for. Does Malthouse think that his football teams poor effort is a disgrace to the spirit of the Anzacs? Come on...you've got to be joking! If there were any Anzac diggers alive today I'm sure they wouldn't be saying that they would trade in with disgust their battle scars or war wounds because Collingwood lost a game of football by five points?! Honestly, would there even be a WW2 veteran willing to put their hand up and confess their contempt for a footy team and say with honest conviction that they felt let down and their war efforts all but vain? I mean I know that around Melbourne we often hear the catchcry regarding Australian football that "it's more than a game..." but is it really 'more'? 'More' enough to induce tears of dismay from khaki heroes and have Anzac legends turning in their graves?

Mick Malthouse would do well to just step outside of himself for a bit and gain some perspective on life. Football is a game...yes as much as I love it even I, as an Aussie-born Melbourne boy know that it is just a game. People shed blood on a football field for the sake of winning a game. True heroes, like our Anzacs died on battlefields for the sake of things far higher than a 120 minute sporting endeavour. Those two scenarios are absolutely incongruous and far beyond comparison. Lest we forget Mick, it's just a game...

Verse for the Day...

2009-04-26T00:10:00.002+10:00

Lest We Forget...

2009-04-25T22:56:00.002+10:00

The Hand of God?

2009-04-23T16:50:00.003+10:00

Even before Jesus turned up in a Kit Kat bar our Heavenly Father was inadvertently snapped whilst making some positional re-adjustments to some stars recently. The "Hand of God" image, taken and released by NASA, has many Christian believers all over the world leaping around in delight. For some of them, it is the vindication of their faith - their validation that God is actually the real deal.

This white man believes that anything is possible for the Creator of the universe and beyond and if God saw fit to re-arrange some of His most beautiful handiwork then who am I to argue? But more importantly, I don't need to see some deep space photo that claims to be irrefutable evidence of Divine dexterity in the outer cosmos. When I look up at the stars most nights (when the weather permits), I already see the glory of God sparkling in the heavens. To see the Milky Way galaxy melting across southern skies and the constellation of Orion with it's literal super-stars Rigel and Betelguese is enough evidence for me that their Creator is simply wonderful. Faith is deeper than interpretive photos from the edge of our galaxy...As the writer of Hebrews best said "Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for."

Call this white man ancient but I also have to concur that my faith is far more focussed on what I do not see rather than what I see with my own eyes. Photographs are fleeting...faith is forever!

Jesus in a Kit Kat?

2009-04-22T14:37:00.001+10:00

Thought I'd seen it all...until now...Have a break...have Jesus!

Outrageous!

2009-04-21T23:42:00.004+10:00

This white man certainly appreciates that, when it comes to perspectives, diversity and difference is not such a bad thing - even a healthy thing. When people come from different angles of perspective often a more wholistic, multi-dimensional view of things can be seen and appreciated. I also am a fervent believer that this world is more often than not simply black or white in nature but is more a collage of varying shades of grey. But some things surely are beyond conjecture or debate aren't they?

This week, at a UN summit against the issue of racism, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad delivered a speech that created such a feeling of disgust from fellow international world leaders and delegates that 23 of them walked out during his anti-Jewish, Israel-hating oration. That's right - a speech of that tone given at an anti-racism conference! The link to the story is available below:

http://news.ninemsn.com.au/article.aspx?id=804376

Ahmaninejad has already stirred global outrage in the past for his support of the ridiculous belief that the WW2 Jewish Holocaust was a myth that didn't happen. And his hatred for the nation of Israel is well documented - he, himself is quite straight-forward when it comes to Israel - he'd wipe them off the face of this earth if given the chance. Strong invective from a 'leader' who is nothing more than a fanatical pariah to most other global nations and their leadership. Yet amongst his own people and other Islamic neighbours who support his hard-line views he is feted as a hero of high measure. 'An enlightened truth-teller' they say about him...And I guess from that certain point of view he is probably all that plus more.

Again, this white man respects the alternate views of many when it comes to the gamut of issues on the global stage. But the Iranian President? You've got to be kidding me! Any person, whether a world leader or 'Joe Blow' on the next street corner, who honestly believes that the systematic extermination of over 3 million Jews did not occur during the WW2 years is both naive and offensive. Much of history is open to interpretation but some basic facts remain undeniably fixed for all eternity. Auschwitz, Treblinka, Dachau were not figments of some horribly disturbed sadists imagination. They were real expressions of evil by a tyrannical dictatorship and 3 million very dead Jewish souls cannot lie. Any world leader who purports that the Holocaust was pure fiction does not deserve to have an audience to propogate such despicable views.

So this white man concurs with every world leader who turned their back and left the Iranian Presidents speech at the UN. That's what it deserved and Ahmaninejad should never be given the opportunity to insult the collective intellect of the United Nations and, by default, the whole world in any such forum ever again.

Canadian Sign...Vietnamese Sentiment...

2009-04-20T23:56:00.003+10:00

"If it breathes, walks and is bigger than a grain of rice then it's food..." - a rough translation of a generally accepted Vietnamese philosophy... Obviously a Canadian ideology also!

Verse of the Day...

2009-04-19T22:34:00.000+10:00

V For Vendetta...Daniel Truong's 21st!

2009-04-18T21:35:00.008+10:00

"Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V."

The things I still get up to...

Immigration Problem?

2009-04-17T23:07:00.002+10:00

This white man was bemused today to learn of a new wave of anti-illegal immigrant hysteria sweeping the nation in relation to some new boatloads of Afghani asylum-seekers detained off the northern coastline of Australia. Tragically one boat exploded and resulted in three deaths. Even more tragic is the oversight of this fact in lieu of an unbalanced emphasis on stopping future boatloads of illegal immigrants attempting to 'infiltrate' our great south land.

Statistically speaking, it IS a fact that Australia's 'problem' with illegal immigrants absolutely pales in comparison to other developed countries and their legitimate problems with this issue. I have heard anecdotally that there are roughly 11 million illegal Mexicans in the US. That's just Mexicans! And that's over half of Australia's entire population! In European countries such as the UK, Spain and France, illegal African migrants are flooding in en masse.

So let's not get too carried away with some so-called 'invasion' of illegal immigrants in Australia. Comparitively, our nation remains relatively unscathed when it comes to this world-wide issue. It almost makes this white man question what the true nature of the problem really is - is it illegal immigrants coming to our shores or is it the shady vestiges of our own narrow-mindedness when it comes to people different to ourselves? I'm not out-and-out calling it racism but my sense is that there is some xenophobia in there. I thought right-wing Hansonism was done with - is a return to "fortress Australia" on the cards again? Mmmm...what really is the true problem?

Open Spaces...

2009-04-14T23:08:00.004+10:00

Verdant slopes where crisp air chills

Open spaces, rolling hills

Earthworm squirms in dew drenched sod

Bird song singing praise to God

Peaceful morning, Gippsland sighs

Pond face buzzing, dragonflies

Gum trees sway, eternal spring

God-breathed life in everything

Time stands still then shifts again

Shadows grow across the glen

Must leave now, the road awaits

God's garden stays, beyond the gates

Until I sleep, in dreams return

To open spaces, again I learn

That life is sacred, rich and moist

On green hills heavens glory voiced...

Peaceful Korumburra!

2009-04-13T22:35:00.003+10:00

This white man is spending some cathartic days down in Korumburra with family and friends. In recent times Korumburra has been the epicentre of two earth tremors that have shaken Melbourne and country Victoria. Thankfully things have been serene during our short holiday here!

He Lives!

2009-04-12T08:43:00.001+10:00

Darkness Covered The Land...

2009-04-11T21:58:00.001+10:00

Just Thank You...

2009-04-10T16:07:00.002+10:00

Thank You God! You Didn't Let The Cup Pass!

2009-04-09T23:45:00.003+10:00

"Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done."

Adversity...

2009-04-07T23:02:00.001+10:00

A Dozen Wonderful Years!

2009-04-06T23:21:00.002+10:00

Today this white man has joyfully celebrated 12 years of marriage! Back on April 6, 1997 in

Hoi An, Vietnam I married my beautiful angel Phuong and I can honestly say I've never regretted one single moment of our marriage together in the 12 years since. God has gifted us with two precious sons, Kim and Luc and we are just blessed when we consider how much His grace and provision sustains us day-by-day. Life is good!

Verse of the Day...

2009-04-05T23:14:00.002+10:00

Funny...

2009-04-04T22:45:00.003+11:00

This white man has seen some interesting churches with interesting names but this one takes the cake!

I'd hate to see their vision and purpose statement - would probably be quicker just to read the entire Bible!

When Life Looks Ugly Through the Lens of a Bottle...

2009-04-02T15:55:00.006+11:00

The other night this white man had a rare opportunity to hear from two sides of a recent nasty incident that involved current swimmer Nick D'Arcy and retired swimmer Simon Cowley. At 6:30PM on Channel Nine's "A Current Affair" Cowley gave his side of the nightclub incident that kleft him with bad facial and jaw fractures. Then later, at 8PM on ABC's "Australian Story" D'Arcy gave his insights on the assault. Incidently, D'Arcy was charged with causing grievous bodily harm and was recently found guilty and convicted for the assault on Cowley. In any case, it was a rare television quirk of syncronicity to have both sides present their case on national television on the same night.

After watching both men outline their views upon reflecting back on that fateful evening of celebrations that got out of hand, it seemed obvious that all were affected adversely in some way or another. Obviously, Cowley, being the victim of the assault by D'Arcy, has suffered greatly as a result of the attack. Physically and psychologically Cowley is still recovering from the attack on him. D'Arcy has also suffered for his momentary alcohol-fueled mind-snap on Cowley. He missed selection for the 2008 Beijing Olympics and now has a criminal record to live with, not to mention the indignity of having to carry the label "drunken lout" with him most likely for the rest of his public life.

And so this white man is reminded again of the devastating effect alcohol can have when misused. Young men, rational and sane in their normal selves suddenly turn feral once intoxicated. Peaceful, law-abiding citizens turning rabid with one-too-many drinks inside of them. I guess it says to me that perhaps something new needs to be done to re-educate today's youth of the dangers of excessive alcohol intake and particularly binge-drinking. They are just not getting it and they continue to be a menace to the community and even more, to themselves. Maybe the Salvos really have got it right all along in their zero tolerance abstinence stance on the 'demon drink'. When will the youth of today, and the other adult drinkers who should know better, learn?

Chicken Pox!

2009-03-31T23:03:00.004+11:00

As I just indicated on that other social networking tool Facebook, this white man is now resigned to the fact that now his eldest son Kim has indeed caught chicken pox. My other son Luc is still recovering from his bout with the itchy little cursed spots and now his older brother has it all to look forward to! Given that, as a child, I never contracted this common childhood ailment then it also leaves me feeling slightly uneasy with the current situation. Fortunately, I had a vaccination a while back and my hope is that the vaccine does what it is supposed to do. Thus far the vaccine appears to have me protected but who knows what tomorrow will hold?! Can't say that the thought of contracting chicken pox is enthralling at all but, after all, worse things happen to people that a few lousy itchy spots on your skin for a couple of weeks.

I think the only person really feeling pretty smug about the whole chicken pox thing in our house is Luc. He had to endure it whilst it appeared that his brother had escaped the virus and Kim wasn't shy in letting Luc know that he was just about as unclean as a biblical leper! Now Luc has the opportunity to rub it back in his brother's face...and he will! Aahhh isn't life wonderful!

An Interesting Take on Baptism...

2009-03-30T23:46:00.002+11:00

After a torrential rainstorm filled all the potholes in the streets and alleys, a young mother watched her two little boys playing in the puddles through her kitchen window.

The older of the two, a five year old lad, grabbed his brother by the back of his head and shoved his face into the water hole. As the boy recovered and stood laughing and dripping, the mother runs to the yard in a panic.

'Why on earth did you do that to your little brother?!' she asks as she shook the older boy in anger.

'We were just playing 'church' mummy,' he said. 'And I was just baptizing him ... ... in the name of the Father, the Son and in ... the hole-he-goes!'

Verse for the Day...

2009-03-29T00:07:00.002+11:00

Saturn's Rings

2009-03-28T23:56:00.003+11:00

Tonight this white man went out with friends and did some really amazing star gazing. Got to see clear views of the Milky Way, Saturn's Rings, the two Magellenic cloud formations and all the main signature constellations. Beautiful clear skies, great location, amazing display! The heavens truly are an ever-present advertisement, a billboard if you like, of God's amazing creativity!

That's Life!

2009-03-27T10:22:00.002+11:00

Yesterday this white man commented on the return to AFL football of Ben Cousins. The dream was alive, the fairytale come-back, the script was was there to be written. Then reality raised it's voice on the matter...Last night Richmond got thrashed by Carlton and Cousins himself, tore his hamstring and will probably miss the next 4-6 weeks of action. As they say, that's life!

All too often when fairytales promise to materialise into reality, they just as quickly disappear into the ether of dreams. Who knows what will happen now with Cousins and his re-born football career? Perhaps he'll recover from this latest setback and the jungle drums will again start to beat out another comeback rhythm. Maybe he'll decide that it just isn't worth all the effort and bow out for good? Who knows? Life is remarkable in how it randomly shifts people on courses that no-one could possibly expect. Reminds this white man of that timeless quote from Forrest Gump that goes something like "life is like a box of chocolates...you just never know what you're going to get".

Well last night Carlton took home the chocolates and Cousins took home a good dose of reality!

It All Begins Again...

2009-03-26T11:07:00.002+11:00

It has finally arrived...that moment every year when Melbourne seems to lift in intensity and shift into a higher gear. AFL football begins again for 2009 tonight as Carlton face-off against traditional rival Richmond. And again, outside of the field of contest there is a greater story of significance, for this game heralds the return of Ben Cousins. Cousins, the formerly disgraced West Coast Eagles champion who has battled his own personal substance abuse issues makes his long-awaited return to the sport that defined him. All eyes will be upon Ben Cousins tonight - eyes of scepticism, eyes of admiration, eyes of judgment and eyes of hope. This white man hopes that, far beyond the result of this one game, that the ultimate outcome will be positive for Cousins in the long-run of his life. Giving a bloke a second-chance is supposedly an Aussie credo that we are all encouraged to embrace - let's hope football watchers do just that and enjoy the fact that Ben Cousins is in a better place in life and we all hope he stays there!

By the way, tomorrow night my beloved Hawthorn Hawks begin their 2009 season with a Grand Final rematch with the Cats. The majority of pundits have already scripted another Geelong domination this year but as Hawthorn proved in last year's final, anyone can win on the day! "Carn the Hawks!"

Funny Photo...

2009-03-25T23:25:00.000+11:00

The Judge Judged...

2009-03-23T23:26:00.002+11:00

This white man has followed with interest the case of retired Federal Court judge Marcus Einfeld and his legal proceedings as a result of trying to avoid a $77.00 speeding fine. He lied to the courts in his attempt to wrangle his way out of the fine and ended up with a perjury charge. The end result - a two year custodial prison sentence and the ignomy of being the first Australian judge, retired or serving, to be sentenced to a jail term. In effect, the judge got judged!

Honestly, I find this case of the 69 year-old former judge extremely sad. I find it sad that someone who practiced, interpreted and deliberated law as his day-to-day livelihood would honestly believe that he was above the same law he served. And all for the sake of $77.00! With the retirement package Einfeld is on he could have paid that fine with the spare change floating around in his pocket. That's another point of incredulous sadness in this story - why would he bother to dodge it? Why couldn't he just face the consequences of his actions like most of the rest of society does when they receive traffic infringements? It seems that he really did think he could just manouvere around the law as he wished, even by doing so illegally through what started as a small lie that just grew to inane proportions.

And this white man heard today of a plea by the judge to be treated with clemency accompanied by an apology for what he had done. My suspicion is that the judge perhaps isn't so much sorry in his heart for what he did but perhaps just sorry that he got caught for it! What an irony...the law-giver seeking grace. And at the risk of appearing contradictory and maybe even hypocritical as I, myself am a great advocator of increased grace in a dis-graceful world, I say that Marcus Einfeld should serve every nanosecond of his sentence in jail! I say that because, from a faith view-point I, as a pastor, take on board with the full knowledge and responsibility that I will be judged in my actions at heaven's judgment seat more stringently in matters of faith because I serve as a practitioner of faith. He too, as a long-serving practitioner of law should receive the harshest measure of the law and it be implemented to its full extent.

Therefore may Marcus Einfeld's sorry situation serve as a reminder to everyone that no-one is above the laws of the land. More importantly, may his example cause us all to reflect personally on our own integrity. May we all be honest and sincere in critically appraising the decisions we make and how upright are in how we conduct ourselves in our lives.

Verse for the Day...

2009-03-22T00:14:00.002+11:00

Say Cheese...and Get Wet!

2009-03-21T23:53:00.001+11:00

Why? This white man does not know?!

A Great Friday Funny!

2009-03-20T11:05:00.003+11:00

The elderly priest, speaking to the younger priest, said, 'You had a good idea to replace the first four pews with plush bucket theater seats. It worked like a charm. The front of the church always fills first now.

'The young priest nodded, and the old priest continued,

'And you told me adding a little more beat to the music would bring young people back to church, so I supported you when you brought inthat rock 'n roll gospel choir. Now our services are consistently packed to the balcony.

''Thank you, Father,' answered the young priest. 'I am pleased that you are open to the new ideas of youth.'

'All of these ideas have been well and good,' said the elderly priest, 'But I'm afraid you've gone too far with the drive-thru confessional.'

'But Father,' protested the young priest, 'my confessions and the donations have nearly doubled since I began that!''

Yes,' replied the elderly priest, 'and I appreciate that.... But the sign outside, 'Toot 'n Tell or Go to Hell' cannot stay!

The Times Are Getting Bad...

2009-03-18T23:54:00.000+11:00

Is Anything Sacred Anymore?

2009-03-17T23:10:00.002+11:00

Along with other like-minded members of the community, this white man was also depressed to learn that the TAB have decided to open their betting agencies on Good Friday. I mean their decision to do this isn't a surprise in many ways - why should the TAB feel compelled to honour a sacred day that in effect is meaningless to their gaming/business interests? Christians today have to face the fact that our society is growing more secular and days like Good Friday and Christmas Day will eventually succumb to the commercial interests of businesses, traders and gaming agencies. I'm realistic to know this and it'll happen whether I like it or not. By the way, that's not a defeatist attitude, just a biblical belief based on 2 Timothy 3:2. If God's Word points out that this world will head down a totally secular pathway then who am I to argue - even more so when I see it happening before my own eyes in my own society.

I guess my only gripe to the TAB and other commercially motivated businesses who are sure to jump on this Good Friday liberal bandwagon is this...is it just even a little bit possible that the time-honoured cultural and spiritual foundations of our nation could be acknowledged once in a while? It's not like Australians are forced to slavishly bow their collective knees on every single occasion of Christian significance during the year. Good Friday and Christmas Day are only two days out of 365. It isn't too much to hold onto some traditional values in our community and respect them accordingly is it? The least the TAB should do, as other commentators have rightfully suggested, is donate a healthy percentage of their gaming intake on Good Friday to the Royal Childrens Hospital as a gesture of generosity. Maybe, at least then, the community might feel that something positive can come from the rubble of our society's eroding values and traditions.

Please Explain...

2009-03-16T23:44:00.003+11:00

This white man doesn't care about apparent raunchy photos of Pauline Hanson that have emerged so conveniently after 30 years of collecting dust. I only wish that the rest of the majority of Australians didn't care so they would not waste their hard-earned money on gutter-trash newspapers that scream sensationalist headlines. My gripe isn't necessarily against Pauline either - if the photos that purport to be her really ARE her then so what. She deserves as little air time as possible and all this latest controversy is just another grubby chapter in the life of the most infamous fish and chip shop owner in contemporary Australian history. All I would say is this...

For the plummeting moral and editorial standards of the Australian media who now find it necessary to report increasingly more salacious and inane stories designed only to titilate the intellectually brain-dead in Australian society, this white man simply asks...PLEASE EXPLAIN?!

Verse of the Day

2009-03-15T15:38:00.002+11:00

THAT Ad!

2009-03-14T23:31:00.002+11:00

This white man knows that a key component in a succesful advertisement, especially on television or radio is the annoyance factor. Radio-wise, if there is a more excruciatingly annoying ad than the helium-infused squeaky voiced clown singing "the blind factory, the blind factory etc..." then I haven't heard it. But TV-wise, the ad that is absolutely driving me up the proverbial wall presently is the new Medownick commercial for laser eye treatment. It's the ad with the 'dancing eyes' lady who shifts her eyes around whilst shrugging her shoulders to some cheesy pop song. I don't know if it's the woman's smug smile that annoys me the most, or perhaps the music or probably a combination of all of it. But it's a nerve-grater for sure and this white man is not alone in his disdain for this ad.

Already Facebook has an established group of devoted haters of this particular commercial with their own forum of spite vengefully poured out with total wrath upon the 'dancing eyes lady'. Of course there's a lot of nonsense and over-the-top commentary towards the ad but one forum member made a very good point - how will the 'dancing eyes lady' ever walk down a public street again without being heckled and imitated? Talk about a cross to bear. Ironically, she'll probably have to wear sunglasses everywhere she goes just to prevent being constantly recognised and mocked!

And of course the delicious irony for the advertising executives and probably for Medownick themselves is that whilst everybody is absolutely hating their contribution to commercial television, they are reaping the benefits of their irritating offering. An annoying ad often makes for an effective ad. It's enough to make you raise your eyebrows and maybe even do an eye dance?! By the way...how does one's eyes actually dance? What a nonsense...

Funny photo...and caption...

2009-03-13T23:29:00.001+11:00

"After flipping his hydrofoil, Jesus quickly leaves the scene before his Father finds out ......"

Back Blogging!

2009-03-12T13:12:00.003+11:00

This white man is back after a two-day sojourn from his blog world. Last weekend was a relaxing time spent at Anglesea with my church family at the Lutheran-run Araluen Camp. The youth particularly enjoyed the experience of participating in activities with the older generation. They don't often have the opportunity to do this in church so this was valuable in it's own right. And there was just a really positive united feeling within the camp with young and old together. And this strong united generational vibe prompted this white man to pen a short poem whilst overlooking the south-west Victorian coastline;

SMOOTH ON WEATHERED

Long town walk, paddling boats

Old and young are side by side

Volleyball, sand and fun

Young and old with no divide

Warm words shared, unity
Old and young together

One in Christ, one family

Hands held, smooth on weathered

Legacy and future days

Old and young have blessing

Hopeful prayers are prayed in faith

Gratitude expressing

Precious time in Anglesea

Young and old together

Spirit breathing care and love

Hands held, smooth on weathered.

Anglesea Camp 2009

2009-03-09T19:22:00.005+11:00

Verse for the Day...

2009-03-08T08:19:00.001+11:00

Off To Camp...

2009-03-07T00:05:00.003+11:00

This Labour Day long weekend this white man is off on a family church camp in Anglesea. Will return to this blog on Monday with some thoughts from the weekend.

Peace!

I Feel The Earth Move...

2009-03-06T23:06:00.002+11:00

Well actually this white man didn't! Apparently around 9PM tonight there was an earth tremor, originating from Gippsland and affecting much of the eastern side of Melbourne. At 4.6 on the Richter scale the tremor unnerved many but damaged little to nothing. As for me in the outer north-west - didn't feel a thing! Poor old Victorians can't take a trick this summer. Dry spell with no rain leading up to the worst disaster in our history, Black Saturday and now an earth tremor. What next...a tsunami? A cyclone perhaps? Seriously, isn't it wonderfully grounding to feel how small we are in comparison to the violent, indiscriminate power of the natural world. It's good to be reminded of this from time to time. Just when we, the race called human think we have everything under control God reminds us who really is boss!

On another note, this white man began a four week space odyssey with my Bible Study group at Melbourne Scienceworks. Last night we attended the first session of a four-week astronomy course named "Discover the Night Sky". Again, it was awesome to be reminded again how small we really are. Our God is a beautifully creative God - a God of aesthetics, a God of immaculate style and taste, a God of the details, a God who knows my name and loves me despite my flaws. Just a indescribable God who is immensely big while I feel humbled to be very, very small!

Ridiculous Sign Outside A Church!

2009-03-05T17:19:00.001+11:00

What more can one say?!

Classic Quip...

2009-03-04T19:04:00.003+11:00

Out of deference to my mother, a 'senior' in her own right, this white man shares with you this vintage piece of humourous wit that also contains a good dose of truth as well!

Apparently, a self-important college freshman attending a recent football game took it upon himself to explain to a senior citizen sitting next to him why it was impossible for the older generation to understand his generation.

'You grew up in a different world, actually an almost primitive one' the student said, loud enough for many of those nearby to hear. 'The Young people of today grew up with television, jet planes, space travel, man walking on the moon. Our space probes have visited Mars. We have nuclear energy, ships and electric and hydrogen cars, cell phones. Computers with light-speed processing... And more.'

After a brief silence the senior citizen responded as follows:

'You're right, son. We didn't have those things when we were young ... so we invented them. Now, you arrogant little sh#*, what are you doing for the next generation?'

The applause was amazing!

By the way, my mother, in her eighth decade, forwarded this to me via email. Her computer proficiency connects her across generations, much to her son's admiration!

North Wind Woe...

2009-03-03T18:33:00.002+11:00

Squinting, blinking, dry eyes seeing

Dirty dust storm, dead bush fleeing

Sun shine hazy, red sky haunting

Gale wind blowing, hell's mouth taunting

Smoke-filled air spews vengeance bringing

Heat-filled, dry and throats are stinging

Gusts of gall still blast uncaring

Stirring fires the flames re-flaring

Hades summer, pain not finished

Heat and wind breathe undiminished

Pray for rain and calm winds too
Then autumn bring a season new...

An Ugly Spirit Emerges...

2009-03-02T16:19:00.004+11:00

We've all been touched, deeply moved in fact, by the spirit of generosity expressed by Australians in response to the Victorian bushfire disaster, now referred to, infamously as "Black Saturday". The amount of money, material aid and other assistance given to survivors of this tragedy has been inspirational - it has restored a level of hope in our community's ability to take care of itself, especially it's hurting and vulnerable. But I guess it was only a matter of time before the shadow-side of people's hearts was revealed. And an ugly shadow-side it is...

This white man listened today to two former home-owners who shared a common bond - they both lost their homes in the bushfires. But their circumstances are quite different. And yet somewhere in the midst of commonly shared suffering and loss, resentment and selfishness emerged. You see one man's house was insured and the other man's house wasn't. And all it took was the issue of the intended allocation of cash relief to re-build their houses to light a spark of anger, particularly from the insured guy towards the uninsured guy. The issue was this - higher levels of financial assistance are being contemplated for uninsured former home owners who have lost everything. Yet some insured home owners, such as this aggrieved man in question, resent this as they feel that the uninsured shouldn't receive special dispensation as it was "their own fault" for not being insured.

Everybody knows that currently the economy is struggling. And when the economy struggles, people struggle with it. When the purse strings get tighter, people naturally focus on covering the essential expenses like food, utility bills, car etc... Unfortunately, one of the first things that gets pushed to the side as a perceived lesser immediate need is insurance. I mean let's face it - insurance itself is a little like gambling - you are outlaying money on the chance that something might happen to that which you are insuring. And many people in recent times just haven't had that excess money to outlay. Hence, larger numbers of uninsured people who have let go their home insurance policies; uninsured people who lost more than their homes in the fires - they also lost their hope for material restitution.

Which brings this white man back to the ugly spirit that is emerging - a kind of shadowy jealous resentment from some towards those who really do need more assistance than them. Where is the charity in spirit from people such as these towards the needy? Does the example of community generosity to all the affected mean anything? All this white man can resign himself to believing is that no matter what happens in God's universe people will always just be people; inheritently fallen in nature and self-absorbedly selfish. When will people learn to look outside of themselves for once? When will selfless grace prevail? Maybe the more appropriate question should be this - when is Jesus coming back?!

Verse of the Day...

2009-03-01T08:20:00.002+11:00

Those Catholics...

2009-02-28T17:20:00.002+11:00

I guess some nuns aren't who they seem?!

Chronos: The Essence of Time...

2009-02-26T15:39:00.008+11:00

Fluidity in motion, time never standing still

Chronos never ending, beats at the Father's will

Seasons past, present air, future sun will rise

Clouds drift by, shadows grow, chronos in the skies

History, the generations, past defines today

Lessons learnt, mistakes revised, live another way

Memories, random thoughts, visions in my mind

Yesterday, illumination, chronos left behind

Unto that time of no time, eternity embraced

When I look back at footsteps made, chronos now retraced

And in that place of perfect bliss I'm free...immense peace

Chronos is gone, Omega now, celestial release...

Nemo Got Found!

2009-02-25T23:33:00.005+11:00

This white man is an unapologetic fan of Disney Pixar movies. Having two sons who have grown up through some of Pixar's classic films such as Bug's Life, The Incredibles, Finding Nemo, Cars and most recently WALL-E has meant that we, as a family, have enjoyed these classic animated movies on two levels. First I enjoy them on a kid's superficially humourous level - they're just really funny! And secondly, I appreciate the deeper moral message of the movies - there is always a healthy theme in every Pixar work.

But this white man also has his decidely wicked side and whilst trawling through some very old emails from 2-3 years ago (don't ask why these weren't sorted or deleted ages ago...I know...Iknow!) he found this highly humourous teaser promo image for a possible Finding Nemo 2 sequel. Enjoy!

Even Quicker than Full Body-Suits!

2009-02-24T23:51:00.002+11:00

An artists depiction of the 100 metres freestyle at the Maccabiah Games?

Disclaimer: if any Jewish brethren (or anyone else for that matter) find this satirical drawing offensive in any way, shape or form then feel free to let me or know. Or better still, take it up with G_D!

Aussie Oscars...

2009-02-23T21:41:00.004+11:00

This white man was home this afternoon and had the opportunity to watch a little of the 81st Academy Awards from the US. I must have switched it on at a fortuitous moment as I watched the amazing work of Hugh Jackman, Australian performer extraordinaire who did a fantastic stage musical/dance medley. No wonder our Aussie Hugh is the toast of Tinseltown - such a diversely talented performer who really should be the pride of Australia when it comes to performing arts. And not long after that, Heath Ledger was awarded the Best Supporting actor award posthumously for his unforgettable portrayal of the Joker in The Dark Knight. Remove the emotion from Heath Ledger's death for a moment and please understand that even if he was still alive today he would have received that award and deservedly so. His portrayal was seriously that good!

And in the midst of all that Oscar goodness I couldn't help feel how much Australia really is a natural part of the whole Hollywood scene now. And I have to admit that I felt proud for that - not that I'm a huge Hollywood devotee or anything close but when my nation is represented well on a global scale then it makes me feel good. But... (there's always a 'but' right?!)

The Australian red-carpet fashion commentators who had their little five minute segment after the news tonight should take a good look at themselves for once. Their petulant criticism of the general drabness and bland fashion statements this year in lieu of a real acknowledgment this year of the current global economic downturn was arrogantly misguided. If there was a sense of actors 'dressing down' this year in response to the current economic situation then so be it. Most would agree that such a response on Hollywood's behalf was entirely appropriate and well thought through. It just goes to show that occasionally common sense and good taste can prevail in Hollywood...and that the taste of some supposedly knowledgable fashion commentators can be exceedingly poor.

Well done Hugh Jackman - you are a star!

Verse of the Day...

2009-02-22T14:11:00.001+11:00

Grace Prevails...

2009-02-21T15:38:00.002+11:00

This white man was happy to hear this morning that jailed Australian author Harry Nicolaides was pardoned and released from his six-year sentence and had arrived back home. Rather than going over the whole story again I'll just provide this link that explains the ordeal this man has endured.

http://news.ninemsn.com.au/national/755294/aussie-author-pardoned-in-thailand

So at last, grace prevails...

The Burglar and Jesus...

2009-02-20T11:04:00.003+11:00

A burglar broke into a house one night. He shined his flashlight around, looking for valuables; and when he picked up a CD player to place in his sack, a strange, disembodied voice echoed from the dark saying, 'Jesus is watching you.' He nearly jumped out of his skin, clicked his flashlight off, and froze. When he heard nothing more after a bit, he shook his head, promised himself a vacation after the next big score, then clicked the light on and began searching for more valuables.

Just as he pulled the stereo out so he could disconnect the wires, clear as a bell he heard, 'Jesus is watching you.' Freaked out, he shined his light around frantically, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, in the corner of the room, his flashlight beam came to rest on a parrot.

Did you say that?' he hissed at the parrot. 'Yep,' the parrot confessed, then squawked, 'I'm just trying to warn you.' The burglar relaxed. 'Warn me, huh? Who in the world are you?' 'Moses', replied the bird. 'Moses?' the burglar laughed. 'What kind of people would name a bird "Moses"?'

'The kind of people that would name a Rotteweiller "Jesus".

At What Price...?

2009-02-19T16:31:00.004+11:00

Like most who initially caught this piece of news from the UK, this white man was stunned when informed of 13 year-old Alfie Patten's claim to fame as Britain's youngest father. I guess what made the claim astounding was the fact that young Alfie didn't look a day older than 9-10. A scrawy, pasty pale, pre-pubescent 'pommy' pupil holding a baby puported to be his own...But now comes the truth...

Little Alfie is a victim of an audacious scam. He's really not the father at all; although one presumes that he must have done 'something' with the baby's mother to believe that he was. Or perhaps Alfie still believes babies arrive via storks leaving a bundle of joy on your doorstep? Who knows! What is now known is that the baby's 15 year-old mother Chantelle Steadman was told by her mother to tell all that poor little Alfie was the dad. Thus their grubbiest of schemes was unveiled - make a buck off the fact that this was supposedly a child born of the youngest father in the UK. And they've suceeded in their money-making scam already, despite the truth being revealed now. Thousand's of dollars have already been paid to the Steadman's from media outlets covering this sensational, now fictional story.

My point is this - at what price will people sacrifice their integrity, self-respect and all sense of personal dignity just for untold $$$? This is an outrageous deception, made worse because a young boy was exploited and used in such a low fashion. Just for the money...but at what cost?

Precarious!

2009-02-18T22:48:00.005+11:00

Ever thought there were moments in your day-to-day job where things just got too risky? Ever felt so nerve-wracked in a precarious moment that the stress was palpable? Ever felt like "one wrong move" would potentially make a real mess of your day?

Think again...

This white man has had to "walk on eggshells" but that is ridiculous!

Only in Vietnam...