Teach us to pray...

Tuesday was a day of extremes. And as a praying man it was one of the toughest. The week before saw good friends of mine rushed to hospital – waters breaking fourteen weeks too early must be one of the worst nightmares for any couple. I saw our young people at church mobilized into a community of powerful prayer and practical support. And on Tuesday, Micaiah was born – a mere kilogram, 30cm long, eyes still shut, thirteen weeks before full-term.

My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth…

He’s been nicknamed “Superman” by the docs in the prem-unit, as his little lungs are pretty well working (certainly not a given at this stage). I went out to the hospital and we thanked our Lord for His life-giving power, for His faithfulness, His mercy, His love, and His wonder. And we thanked God for little Micaiah. He’s in an airtight bunker in the heart of the hospital, and will be for some time, so it’ll be a while until anyone outside the immediate family sees him, but I saw the digital snaps… The power of Giver of life left me in silent awe.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows this very well…

Four hours earlier I was sitting in another hospital, in another chair. One hand rested on the blanket wrapped around Jacob, a tiny one whom the Lord called back to himself at thirty-six weeks. The other hand held a Bible open at Psalm 139, which I read. Jacob’s parents had said their farewells and could not bear to be there. I went back to see them, and after a while we prayed…

Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them…

What do you pray for… in this place? At this time? I phoned a wise saint before I arrived at the hospital. Somewhat enigmatically – I thought at the time – he reminded me of the sovereignty of our Lord. In this place? At this time? That’s so easy to say in the comfortable surroundings of a church or a Bible-study group… it’s a lot harder to say that while walking across a hospital carpark, knowing that you will be talking to people who have just suffered shattering loss, knowing that you will see a baby born without life… I thought that it would be harder to say.

Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know it altogether…

The line from the old prayer book that comes before the Lord’s Prayer springs to mind… O Lord, teach us to pray… I prayed for these two, a couple in love with each other, in love with the Lord and in love with their baby boy. We gave thanks that the Lord is the Lord and Master of today, and that He is in complete control of everything. We thanked the Lord that He is faithful, that He holds Jacob close – and close to His great heart – and that one day at the end of days, the three of them will be able to hold hands once more… We prayed that the Comforter would hold their hearts with the same tenderness that the Father holds Jacob, and that they, too, would be held close to His great heart. Their amens came with the full weight that a heart can bear, yet they were amens, and in this dark, dark time we discovered together how on earth one really can give thanks to the Lord in all circumstances.

Even the darkness is not dark to you… for darkness is as light to you…

It’s not until later that one realises what a strange, mind-bendingly huge thing it is that we believe. It hit me in a Bible study the next day, when Mark 9:1 came up. Jesus, after talking about his impending death and resurrection, said “Truly, I say to you, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see the kingdom of God after it has come with power.” The obvious question – what on earth does that mean – was raised, and we looked at a couple of the thoughts surrounding this strange quote. Some have suggested that Jesus was talking about the coming Transfiguration (which appears in the next passage), many understand this as referring to the return of Jesus at the End, and some understand the kingdom of God coming with power as referring to the resurrection of Jesus (which he had been talking about through that passage). It hit me so hard right then… how powerful is this kingdom that comes with power!

Such knowledge is too wonderful to me; it is high; I cannot attain it…

After three days the power of death was defeated and Jesus walked. By the power of spoken word Jesus raised Lazarus and the daughter of Jairus to life. The power that would bring back tiny Jacob to life is, quite simply, outside our reckoning and our understanding. There is no power on earth that can do that. We have the power to end life, the power to destroy whole cities… but we cannot give life back to one tiny child. There is only One who can do that… and we pray to the Father in His name. It’s one of those Christian clichés, that at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow. Maybe we should consider just how powerful that Name is.
The Lord is sovereign. He is indeed the Lord and Master of today, even when we think the day is more than we can bear. What a thing both terrifying and wonderful this is…

Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! See if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!

The saint who reminded me of the sovereignty of God wasn’t being enigmatic. He’s a speaker of God’s great truth. He recommended reading Psalm 139, which runs through the above notes, and also Isaiah 40:10-11, which I’ll close with.

Behold the Lord comes with might,
And His arm rules for Him;
Behold, His reward is with Him,
And His recompense before Him.
He will tend His flock like a shepherd;
He will gather the lambs in His arms;
He will carry them in His bosom,
And gently lead those that are with young.

Image from http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e85/lilmizzhottie92/pray.jpg

The Comet and The Sun

As I closed my eyes, I beheld a comet.

So brilliant, so beautiful, so much the source of wonder to men

for thousands of years.

The comet orbits the Sun, but the Sun is not the centre of her orbit.

With exaggerated ellipse she swings hard and close by the Sun,

but then she moves away, away, away.

As her approach takes her to light, she flares and becomes brighter

and more beautiful, streaming a bridal train a million miles long.

Her high beauty comes as she reflects the full glory of the Sun.

But as she drifts, drifts, drifts away, her radiant visage fades

and the sweep of the glory of her tail fades out,

until she becomes just another object in the night sky...

indistinct and indistiguishable,

unattractive,

lost in amongst a million billion lost bodies

and so very alone and unseen...

Oh my Lord

Let me never be that comet.

May the Son be the constant centre of all life

and my life,

that I may may simply and gently reflect.

Reflect Your glory.

And if others see the Light,

And if others see beauty in the Light,

if others seek the warmth and the life of the Light,

let it be seen that I am but a poor reflection

but that I will be ever a faithful guide.

Photograph of the comet Hale-Bopp from NASA's Astronomy Picture of the Day http://apod.nasa.gov/

MEMORY LOSS

I’ve left my stick behind.

It was a new one, too – a 2gig flash drive; new, cheap, and loaded with a few important things… assignments, sermon ideas, photos and some music. And I’ve gone and left it behind. Detached Alzheimer’s? Complete memory loss?

It was last seen transferring a document to be printed in a library. Where else but a world of irony can you have A FORGOTTEN MEMORY STICK?

I can't believe how relient I am on things like a memory stick, a laptop computer and wireless internet access. Stupid, really.

I used to have one of those small electronic address books. It could hold more phone numbers that I really needed, reminded me of my own birthday, and had the top one hundred part-numbers that you need to know to repair a Boeing 747.

It was a big one, too – thirty-four kilobytes. That’s less than the average pointless-joke email now, and probably half the space that this note takes. A digital photo of a 747 is between 100 and 500 megabytes.

Why do we need so much memory? How many of my emails do I genuinely need to SAVE, and how many am I actually likely to remember… in my head?

A thirty-four kilobyte memory won’t get you too far today. So why couldn’t I remember a 2gig stick? Or – as my wife would dryly note – the garbage, some milk or my tablets?

What should I be remembering?

REMEMBER the Sabbath day, to keep it holy… (Ex20:8)
REMEMBER your Creator in the days of your youth… (Eccl12:1)

Is there any kind of memory loss that is actually worthwhile?

“I will REMEMBER their sins no more…” (Heb8:12 / Jer31:34)

Don’t forget to say your prayers tonight. Okay?

On A Train...

So what is it about the train that brings about the worst in humanity? I don’t mean like senseless murder or genocide or Apple laptops… I mean isolation. Isolation on a train.

The loudest conversation on the train I’m on at the moment is the graffiti. It’s telling me that, well, I probably won’t want to shake Zed’s hand. And there’s someone out there called “Proe”. But it’s telling me more than the five other real live people are telling me, and they’re sitting across from me on my train.

And it’s more than I’m telling them on this train.

We’d prefer isolation. We court it and we aggressively display it. Don’t believe me? Talk loudly into your phone and watch people around you. Why do we bring our own bubble to the train – our own headspace? Why would I rather type this into my laptop rather than discuss it with my… neighbour? Why don’t I want to call them my neighbour on a train?

Why the barrier on a train?

Bounce. Sway. The social origami of reading & folding a broadsheet newspaper. The quiet tchik-tchik-tchik-tchik of MP3 headphones in the ears of half the commuters. The cinema-in-the-seat laptops playing pirated copies of the latest Batman film. People writing new thoughts for blogs… Everything and everyone screams DON’T TOUCH ME! on a train.

How can I reach out to touch someone… if I’d resent someone doing the same to me on a train?

How can I see public transport as a legitimate mission-field… when I’d cringe at the thought of someone evangelizing me on a train?

We all get to hide in plain sight on a train.

HEAT...

There is heat. It’s at the end of the day. Sunday. A cold day, I have a cold. It’s all somehow fitting…

My daughter in the park, me on the park bench. Watching the smooth arc of time divided minutely by an old mechanical watch, made before the days of chopping up the day into one-second ticks. Writing. An old Parker 51 fountain-pen onto decent paper in a bound journal. Thinking of pre-quartz time. Thinking of pre-ballpoint, PowerPoint, bullet-point time.

There are times when I wonder how advanced we’ve really been of late. I can cram eighty hours of music onto a device the size of my journal, but now I get annoyed when my daughter comes into my study to sing me a song. I can spend half my day justifying my productivity instead of just doing stuff. I can get anxious about global warming – but I seriously forgot how good the sun feels, working its warming way through a T-shirt and jumper on a winter’s day.

I told my daughter that we needed to go, now… but we don’t. Not really. How strange that I felt anxious because we were doing nothing much at all.

The sound of my daughter, drinking from a bubbler, stalling for time. The sound of rainbow lorikeets in the trees, hungrily making their enquiries. The smell of mud and old leaves. The feel of a cool breeze on my back.

Things I used to pay attention to, thirty years ago. Things that I need to remember to stop for now – so she can notice them too.

There is heat. It’s the last of the day.

And my Lord allowed me to notice it.

Alleluia

Dave's Sofa - Art

For those who may have wondered where the various bits of artwork on the Dave's Sofa blog( www.daves-sofa.blogspot.com )have come from, and who should get deserved credit (etc), the following is a guide. Or not. I generally run on the theory that these photos do not infringe copyright, as they were sourced from the public domain. Where at all possible, I like to credit both the photographer and list the download location.

OVERTURE used a photograph of Herbert von Karajan, from the official Karajan website. Available at http://www.karajan.org/jart/prj3/karajan/main.jart?rel=en&reserve-mode=active&content-id=1190897372625&foto_kat_id=1192273236199&fotos_id=1190
JESUS IS... LORD? used Caravaggio's Jesus and Thomas
A MATTER OF TASTE My daughter; used my mother's photography
NICODEMUS AND ME My son; used my sister's photography
TO STAND! Document sourced from the Australian War Memorial, Canberra, Australia. Available at http://www.awm.gov.au/1918/soldier/exdoc40.asp
INSPIRATION used Michaelangelo Buonarroti's Capella Sistina ceiling
AT HIS WORD used Rafael Sanzio de Urbino's School of Athens
iPREACH used Rafael Sanzio de Urbino's La Disputa
BREATHE AGAIN used my daughter, and my 24-hr-old son; photographed by myself
SONG REMAINS THE SAME used an image taken from the International Space Station's Expedition 7 crew. Available at http://eol.jsc.nasa.gov/scripts/sseop/photo.pl?mission=ISS007&roll=E&frame=10807
APRIL FOOL'S DAY used my father, photography by my mother. Thanks, Dad - you're a great sport!
THE PURSUIT OF UNHAPPINESS used a Langkawi Owl. Image available from http://www.tachistyle.com/trlangkawi/wallpapers/langkawi_owl_wallpaper_1280x800.jpg
SIGNPOSTS Pigeon Point Light Station; picture by Tyler Westcott available from http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/image/0711/lighthouse_westcott_big.jpg
NO HALF-FINISHED PROJECTS used a sketch by Leonardo da Vinci, available at http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7d/Leonardo_crossbow.JPG