Abstract Thinking...

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!

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!

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?

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...

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...

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!

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"!

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...

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!

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!