Something happened to me that stopped me blogging since May.
I had some good feedback on my previous posts, but after "the event" (or rather a series of fortunate events) I didn't really want to do any more because the posts were haunted by a soulish kind of anger and a hint of bitterness. I was viewing my life from the valley. I wasn't sure- or bothered- whether I would pick this up again, but feel okay about it now. And the whole point was about being real, and such a lot of real things have happened I have to share them.
God hijacked what I was doing, and where I was. God does that alot. He ruins perfectly good sermons by demanding truth and the fresh outworking of faith, rather than the condensed defences of 500 years of commentary writers, and sabotages perfectly running religious systems by The Great Inversion and love. The writers of the New Testament even had to hijack a Greek word- "agape"- to talk about Gods kind of love- a love not built for the deserving, lovely, or successful. Agape was an obscure little word according to Michael Harper in his brilliant book "The Love Affair" (pages 62-63) Harper says "It is clear agape was in use in the Greek language at the time of Christ because of its inclusion in the Septuagint (the Greek version of the Old Testament) though it had a vague and variable use. It was mostly, it seems, used as a substitute word"
Vague. Variable. Used as a substitute. Bit like my faith and where I was placing Jesus in my life.
After our "challenging" (TM social work terminology) adoption experience we felt our marriage was battered and we needed some counselling. Nothing drastic or awful was about to happen, but that should never be the point where you seek help anyway. I'll just say this; we werent the slim, energetic, carefree people we were pre younglings. I looked liked Jabba the Hutt and was only just less irritable than him as well. We were into our third session (first as a couple) and what I thought would be a wince inducing blast of reciprocal agony and accusation was suddently bypassed when Jesus, via the counsellors, asked us to start fighting for our children in prayer. And for me to stop being a sanctimonious, negative carnival of flesh.
We started and things got harder with the children- in fact some demonic in my little daughter went into another gear (see a later post). We had a fateful trip to France where the intensity cranked up- along with a lot of good times, bizarrely- and during that time God also asked us as a couple to drop everything so we could focus on the kids. That was all the things we were enjoying- home group, an adoption charity project, the possiblity of helping form a community outreach and best if all we were going on a retreat with a charity that moves people to live in inner city sink estates.
But we had to give it all up. I have already shared that I had given alot of things up, including a career, but this was another level. This was the burning of residual bridges. The giving up of things I really really cared about and was getting a drip feed of self worth from. But not the right kind of self worth. Like the British Rail snow, but deeper.
God was clearing the decks..........
And I felt like a wreck..............
I had some good feedback on my previous posts, but after "the event" (or rather a series of fortunate events) I didn't really want to do any more because the posts were haunted by a soulish kind of anger and a hint of bitterness. I was viewing my life from the valley. I wasn't sure- or bothered- whether I would pick this up again, but feel okay about it now. And the whole point was about being real, and such a lot of real things have happened I have to share them.
God hijacked what I was doing, and where I was. God does that alot. He ruins perfectly good sermons by demanding truth and the fresh outworking of faith, rather than the condensed defences of 500 years of commentary writers, and sabotages perfectly running religious systems by The Great Inversion and love. The writers of the New Testament even had to hijack a Greek word- "agape"- to talk about Gods kind of love- a love not built for the deserving, lovely, or successful. Agape was an obscure little word according to Michael Harper in his brilliant book "The Love Affair" (pages 62-63) Harper says "It is clear agape was in use in the Greek language at the time of Christ because of its inclusion in the Septuagint (the Greek version of the Old Testament) though it had a vague and variable use. It was mostly, it seems, used as a substitute word"
Vague. Variable. Used as a substitute. Bit like my faith and where I was placing Jesus in my life.
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| Blatant use of Max Lucado cheesey literary device |
After our "challenging" (TM social work terminology) adoption experience we felt our marriage was battered and we needed some counselling. Nothing drastic or awful was about to happen, but that should never be the point where you seek help anyway. I'll just say this; we werent the slim, energetic, carefree people we were pre younglings. I looked liked Jabba the Hutt and was only just less irritable than him as well. We were into our third session (first as a couple) and what I thought would be a wince inducing blast of reciprocal agony and accusation was suddently bypassed when Jesus, via the counsellors, asked us to start fighting for our children in prayer. And for me to stop being a sanctimonious, negative carnival of flesh.
We started and things got harder with the children- in fact some demonic in my little daughter went into another gear (see a later post). We had a fateful trip to France where the intensity cranked up- along with a lot of good times, bizarrely- and during that time God also asked us as a couple to drop everything so we could focus on the kids. That was all the things we were enjoying- home group, an adoption charity project, the possiblity of helping form a community outreach and best if all we were going on a retreat with a charity that moves people to live in inner city sink estates.
But we had to give it all up. I have already shared that I had given alot of things up, including a career, but this was another level. This was the burning of residual bridges. The giving up of things I really really cared about and was getting a drip feed of self worth from. But not the right kind of self worth. Like the British Rail snow, but deeper.
God was clearing the decks..........
And I felt like a wreck..............
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