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Celebrated our national pride by heading down to Federation Square for Melbourne’s Australia Day fireworks.

Were also treated to a little all-in performance by a variety of musicians and dancers, featuring the Space Man from Swanston Street - if you’ve been to the Melbourne CBD at night, you’ll know who I’m talking about.

Here’s a really blurry but typical camera phone shot of the closing moments of the fireworks.  Judging by the amount of people holding their phones in the air, I’m guessing there would be thousands of photos looking just the same as this floating around just now.

Went along to Planet Shakers church tonight in Melbourne.  Although we’ve been to many conferences which are very close in atmosphere to this, it was the first time we’d actually been to a normal mega-church service.

I feel I must be getting old, because the atmosphere here once would have excited me.  Not so much any more.  It’s great to see so many young people in Church, but the drop-off age was clear.  I felt like one of the oldest there (I’m 31).

The visiting speaker was a guy called Chris Hill.  I saw Chris years ago when I’d watch TBN, on a US show called Ramp.  At the time he reminded me very much like a young T.D. Jakes clone.  He was putting on all the right moves.  Even had the sweat-ker-chief.

I was pleased to see that he seemed much more comfortable and authentic tonight.  Though, the message was reasonably predictable;  “We’re going through tough times, but it’s only because God wants to bless us at the right time - and that time is NOW, yada yada..”.  At the risk of sounding like a cynical GenXer, this sort of preaching seems like a carrot being waved in front of our faces.  It urges us onwards, which in itself is not a bad thing, but how long can the carrot be dangled before disillusionment sets in?

In my youth (gee, I really do sound old) we went to conferences with a guy called Ruckins McKinley, also from the states.  We’d jump up and down and declare that we were a ‘kick devil butt generation’ and we’d be sure that ours was the revival generation.  Unless I missed something, it never turned out to be that way.  If the prophetic words were correct, then either our generation or God Himself failed.

I love passionate praise.  I’m a very rare breed in that I class myself as Emerging-Missional and still Pentecostal through and through.  So to me, an authentic, vibrant atmosphere with some good ol’ hollerin’ certainly has it’s place, though it’s no longer my cup of tea.  But the worship must be authentic and our message real.  We can peddle hope, and hope is very much a need of the human soul, but if that hope in the end is not in the true promises of God, then it will go unfulfilled, and that has devastating consequences to our ability to hope again. 

Point to the Planet Shaker on your left (point left)
Point to the Planet Shaker on your right (point right)
Point to the Planet Shaker born to fight (point to your self)

Point to The Planet Shaker (point up)
(Chris Hills and Planet Shakers, 2007)

 

Were a kick devil butt generation
Were a kick devil butt generation
Gonna stomp on his head, won’t stop ’til he’s dead
Were a kick devil butt generation

Kick, Kick, Kick some devil butt, were’ gonna..
(Ruckins McKinley and YouthNet, 1998)

As expected, the kids loved it.  Which probably means that we’ll have to go again.

In finally arrived!

Call me about 5 years behind the times, but I special ordered in from the U.S. my own Xootr, the Rolls Royce of kick scooters.

Getting around on Jay’s little scooter was just dandy, but I’m glad to have my own adult sized piece of fine engineering.

The scooter will be used to ride with the Kids to school which is a few blocks away, and to other destinations that are not quite far enough away to make the hassle of riding and locking up a bike worth it.

I once voice acted in a Kid’s radio show, and the main mode of transport of the geeky, clumsy character I played was a scooter.  A motor scooter, but a scooter no less.  In fact, the character’s name was even Scooter.

Talk about type-casting.

I wasn’t there, but it seems my five year old son, Jay, struck up conversation with a fellow in the supermarket about the ‘Boost smoothie on a stick‘ ice-creams that his grandmother was buying for him and his sisters.  Apparently they are healthy because they are made from real fruit (as opposed to plastic fruit?), despite the fact that they have some 12 teaspoons of sugar in each of the natural treats.

‘Oh yes, we are quite a healthy family’ says Jay.  ‘We ride everywhere on our bikes’.

‘Is that right?’

‘Yes, we have to – because there is a big hole growing in the air above us and soon all the ice in the world will melt’

Now that is slightly different than the usual conversation with strangers;

‘Do you know Jesus?’

‘Um, ah, um, well er.. No.’

‘Well, you should, or else you will go to hell when you die!’

Now, I must make it perfectly clear that he didn’t learn either conversation from me.  In my post thirties, I’d have enough trouble striking up conversation at all with you if I didn’t know you, let alone go into hot buttons such as the fate of the the planet or of your immortal soul

He must get it from his mother.

We have something to learn from little Lisa Simpson.  Well, she is a Simpson, isn’t she – the source of all wisdom and understanding for an entire generation?  In fact, I am sure that the whole postmodern mind-set could be traced back to this perpetually youthful 20 year old family.  And to Lisa specifically.  Somehow.

I was impressed with an episode I saw recently.  Lisa decided that she is to become a vegetarian.  She, like all new converts, becomes very passionate about her new ideas.  And be damned anyone who opposes her viewpoint.

Early on in the show, I thought that it was a strange commentary to be making.  In an age of supposed tolerance, Lisa, the quintessential postmodernist, is taking an extremely arrogant position.  What sort of can of worms were they opening?  Is it alright to be intolerant, as long as your position is liberal, and not conservative?  Can you take a dig at the Ned Flanderses of our society for the same attitudes that they are now promoting?

Well, the writers redeemed themselves. Here is the clip: (http://youtube.com/watch?v=0pll9RaP7A8)

Ok, ok – it’s a little preachy, and they are obviously making it a point here.  But I think it is an extremely valid point.

What impressed me most about it is that they didn’t invalidate attempts at trying to influence others.  Apu even says ‘You know, you can influence people without badgering them always’.

And so can people of faith.  If the message of Jesus is truly good news (and it is) is it then something that we need to dress up, sell or force to get others to accept?  It’s like the mother feeding her toddler the ‘good-for-you’ meal.  You know it – the pre-packaged goop of a constitution made up of the vegetables that the rest of us won’t eat.  I know a secret.  They are put in those little jars to keep the swede and turnip farmers in business, because it’s good for the economy.

The scene goes like this.  Put Franky in the high chair.  Put spoon in jar.  Remove spoon from the jar and insert with food into Franky’s mouth.  Remove spoon from mouth.  Collect food from chin and bib.  Follow mouth with spoon from side to side waiting for Franky  to start verbally objecting so you have an opportunity to ram the spoon in again.  Once again collect the food from chin and bib.  Try the airplane trick.  Collect food yet again.  Start trying to reason logically with a person who has not yet learned that a pencil does not belong up your nose.  Frustrated, try some reasoning that you know Franky will understand.  Finally, give up and reach for the sugar loaded apple custard treat that you know sweet little Franky likes.  Continue this pattern for the rest of Franky’s childhood.

At this point some may say that I’ve shot myself in the foot.  The vegies are good for you, and a good Parent would have forced Franky.  Ah, but that isn’t the point.  The Gospel is truly good.  You can get children to eat and love vegetables if you feed them good vegies from when they are young.  Once at a party, we told our children they could have one last item from the table.  The table was full of the usual party ‘goodness’.  My son – three or four at the time – went for the ‘trees’.  Broccoli that is.  Fresh crisp broccoli, of all things.  I swear that it’s true.

He didn’t need to be convinced to eat what was good for him.

Another illustration, and I’ll keep it brief: a courtroom on trial we have the Message of Jesus.  Those who aren’t convinced are the jury.  And we also have;

• The Judge:  This is a no-brainer, but we don’t seem to get this one.  We aren’t the Judge.  It’s not our job to ‘convict others of their Sin’.  Not even to point out wrong-doings.  Hey, accept it our not, but its not even up to us to point out that their way of thinking is wrong.  Who are we to do such a thing without risking the same treatment?  Jesus was pretty clear when he said: Do not judge, and you will not be judged;  do not condemn, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven.  Now here’s a liberating thought: Father God doesn’t even do this.  He’s not the meanie we make him out to be.  He gives this job to Jesus, and Jesus took all our crap with him to the cross.
• The Lawyers:  And this one’s a trap.  It doesn’t have the politically incorrect connotations that judging has.  Here presents the opportunity to sound wise and convincing.  To boast about how many people we have led to Jesus.  To be the expert in Apologeneutics with the sermonary degree on wall.  To confound the ‘world’ with our Ally McBealesque charm and intelligent sounding logic.  But this one’s the job of the Holy Spirit, who alone touches people powerfully, inexplicably and life-changing(ly) when we share the Good news as -
• The Witnesses:  You know, to all Jerusalem and stuff.  Jesus talked about this somewhere.  It’s simple really.  We know what Jesus has done for us.  The effects should be evident in and through our lives.  If it is really true then it will be seen.  We will be the evidence – the living proof - of a loving, saving God whom all can know through the “good news”

So what am I saying?  I guess it’s that we perhaps should spend less time on the soap box, and more time living and sharing and caring, and showing people that God is real.

And there, I’ve used this year’s SIQ (Simpson’s Illustration Quota) already.

This is the alleyway out the back of our house.

In this same spot yesterday, was a pile of bricks.

A man with a trolley came and took them away today.

By the look on his face, and his stuttered speech when I opened the gate, he wasn’t supposed to be doing so.

Is it wrong of me to have felt embarrassed and sorry for him?

H.G. Wells: ‘When I see an adult on a bicycle, I do not despair for the future of the human race’ 

John Howard*: ‘The bicycle is a curious vehicle.  Its passenger is its engine.’

Now that we have moved to a central enough location, and are not living in the southern suburbs of Sydney as some good friends have taunted, we can finally make a move to sell our car on ebay.  This has been our plan for some time, and since deciding that, we have have purchased over time a cycle-esqe vehicle for each member of our family of five.

And we are part way to proving it viable.  In the week since moving here, the car has sat out the front of the house and not moved.  We ain’t even contemplated using it.  And we ain’t needed to.  Tomorrow is an exception, when Lou needs to make the near-day-trip out to our old place to collect some last things and to let the cleaners in.

So it’s time see it go.  A little work and tidying up and it’s off to the virtual auction house.

The bikes are a strange mix.  A mountain bike for me (I would have gone for a road bike, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t handle my bold girth) and what they call a ‘comfort bike’ for Lou.  Jay has a nifty ‘one-wheeler’ that snaps onto the back of my bike (where he at least thinks he is helping push us along), and Tilly lives it up in Luxury in her ‘Croozer’ which is like a fancy pram-trailer cross-breed that Lou drags behind her. 

I feel a little for Elly who gets to ride a ‘real’ bike – a two wheel, eight speed bike that she has to power by herself.  She’s quite lucky, really, to have such a fancy bike at her age, but try and convince her of that.  In an effort to, during her asking passionately why we are selling our car, I come up with the following reasons:

• In an age where near-everyone is aware of environmental issues facing us, most of us turn a blind eye for the sake of our comfort.  We aren’t going to be a family that does that.  Even if we can’t really make a difference by ourselves, at least we’ll try not to contribute to the problem.  I believe that’s a Godly stand, and I’ll be sharing more on that later.  I pointed Elly to the Melbourne skyline, and the brown haze spoke for itself
• Driving a car is expensive business.  We are endeavouring to simplify our lifestyle and learn to live on less.  Our money can do much more effective things than literally go up in smoke.
• It has always amused me that we spend our money and our lives trying to avoid hard work and then find ourselves needing to work hard anyway as well as spending more money at the gym just to stay fit and healthy.  Does this sound sane?  We’re cutting out the middle man.

She seemed convinced.  Just need to convince myself.  Thank God for public transport.

* For the benefit of all Australians, not either of these two John Howards:

but this one, an International cycling champion from the US of A;

Along the same vein, these two fellas are also John Howard…

      … but I’m sure you didn’t need to know that.

Well, in the words of Hannibal, I love it when a plan comes together [insert cigar here].

After a side trip living in the Melbourne OUTER suburbs, we just last week made the move into Port Melbourne.  This has always been on the agenda, as we plan on building our community somewhere in this vicinity

It’s a little ironic.  We’ve found ourselves in a house that is little more than a block away from the ‘Spirit of Tasmania’, which is the main form of transport to Tassie for those who can’t or do not wish to fly, and how I made my move here to Melbourne.

Lou has already made the comment that she feels a little claustrophobic.  Not necessarily in the house (it is much more closed in than our last few houses) but at living in the city.  It really hit home last night, with fireworks going off everywhere around us, but not being able to see any because of the buildings around us.  We have ourselves to blame - we did make the decision to get a house rather than an apartment, because we want it to be open and accessible.  That’s most important.  Besides, the house has more character than an apartment, we thinks.

So if you want to drop by, the welcome!  You’ll just have to email me for the address first.

I’d like to share over the next few days some of our plans for the coming months, so stay tuned.