Mulling About Ministry and Stuff

Grateful for the sliver of quiet before joining the fray again.

Sometimes, the Christian life seems to be lived from one crisis to another, from one ministry programme to another ministry event, so the in-between times are interesting.

< mull >
What constitutes the appropriate use of time, effort, money, skills/gifts? For we know all things are His and we are only stewards.

We know that post-Fall, God's mission is the redemption of the world and all peoples, and we are called to be his people, his family, his ambassadors, his workers in this broken world. Does this mean that all time, effort, money, skills/gifts (barring those absolutely needed for survival) must only be used for directly gospel purposes?

We know that all things have been created by God and that all good things come from him. So like the psalmist, we can praise God when we are moved to tears by a beautiful piece of music executed flawlessly by talented musicians, or when we gaze upon the majestic beauty of the Alps and marvel at the way our snowboard cuts through the powder, or when our science or mathematics reveals the intricate elegance of "natural" things. For Romans 1 tells us that these things were created to reveal the nature of God. Does this mean that we can spend time, effort, money, and hone skills/gifts not for a specific ministry purpose but for the mere acquisition of aesthetics or beauty; to purchase an Eames arm rocker for the contour of its shell and its delicate base, a watch for the prettiness of its innards; to learn a musical instrument or to paint for the mere aesthetics of it, though such enjoyment is, in our hearts and minds, attributed to the goodness of God?

Then what about pure frivolities like time spent watching America's Next Top Model for the laugh out loud silliness of it, or splashing out for karaoke sessions whereat we affect empty emo-ness to Mambo Jambo playlists for the entertainment of all present, or frittering away leftover energy playing Facebook games in an effort to beat our friend's ridiculously high score on Bejeweled or Typing Mania?

And what about the money earned that is more than is strictly needed for survival, decent clothes and a non-leaky roof over our heads? What should be done with the excess? If all money is God's then we can't compartmentalise money into "ours" and "His", so how much should we save, invest, spend on hobbies or luxury items, and how much should be ploughed into gospel work and social work because of the gospel - supporting ministries, missionaries, churches, feeding the poor and hungry and buying medication for the sick?

Those of us from non-Christian homes know that the piano and violin, and speech and drama classes we were sent to as children now help us serve the church body in music or in preaching or teaching, even though our parents never meant for this. This has surely been God working all things for the good of his people and his church. But what of we as Christian parents now? Do we need to send our children for these things hoping that perhaps Chinese tuition will one day equip our Anglophilic child to mission in China rather than just for the purpose of getting him to pass a school exam? Can we encourage their interests in Lego construction for the sheer joy of it though not necessarily with the view of him gaining entry to creative access countries by his bridge-building abilities (though even in Lego construction we can point out the wonderful design of God's creation)?

What is the nexus of God's sovereignty and human responsibility? If all is God's work, how much do we/should we plan ministries and evangelistic outreaches and following up with people? When we find our plans hindered, how will we know if the obstacles are of the Devil (so we should persevere against all odds) or are from God (so we should seek alternative routes. See eg. Acts 16 where Paul & Co. are forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the word in Asia and prevented by the Spirit of Jesus to go into Bithynia, and so go to Philippi were converts are won)?

Can we jetset for holidays for the fun of it or must travel only be for Mission? (Although, of course, we don't take off the Christian hat when on vacation but always have a ready answer for the hope that we have and an eye out for the furtherance of his kingdom.)

< /mull >

Perhaps it is the non-legalistic anti-pharisaical nature of Christian living that makes it so interesting and refreshing. According to the different backgrounds, personalities, circumstances which God has given to us and put us in, we are free - free to live for him as our consciences, informed by the Bible, guide us to live.

(There was also some discussion about heavenly occupations/preoccupations, election, friendship, marriage and the biblical theology of marriage. But that's a whole other post. Maybe.)

Youth Camp Love Scandal

You know how it is with youth camp romances: boy meets girl, they fall in love, get married, have kids, live happily ever after etc.

This youth camp just past was no exception.

Fortunately, there were no irate parents to appease, the boy and girl in question having returned to their Maker several thousand years before. The Book of Ruth was a great book to preach through. The campers seemed especially attentive to the narrative that, prima facie, concerned a topic that pre-occupied their angsty tween hearts. (However, the Mariah Carey references in the talk on Ruth 3 - "Dreamlover, come redeem me", were lost on the Strawberry Generation, but should have given the Generation X-ers fair warning of the cheesiness of the karaoke song requests to follow.) Lurve aside, it was great to revel in the great care and protection shown by Boaz to Ruth, his overwhelmingly tender, merciful and generous love that exceeded the strict requirements of the OT law; a picture of God's own dealings with his people in saving them from their sin-induced emptiness and disaster.

A direct descendant of Boaz and Ruth was a chap named Jesus. So to see God's scandalous love fulfilled, the camper and scamper bible studies focused on the death and resurrection of Jesus - the need for his sacrificial death, the responses from those hanging around him as he hung on the cross and the necessity of his resurrection. *Insert man vs bear story here complete with sound effects of mauling and gunshots.*

The leaders' and scampers' Focus talks were on the Gospel of Mark. Summaries later.

Keith Richards as Gecko

The NACLI campsite was shared with scampering squirrels, iguanas and geckos, rotting mangoes and unidentified birds that fluttered like pheasants. On the first night, there were also live chickens at dinner. We didn't eat them.

To reinforce the idea of redemption and because people tend to be snacky in revision camps, there was a redemption system for sweeties, Tim Tams and Marmee using dried pasta shells as payment (because they were made of (durum) wheat, said the Principal). This was in addition to the copious amounts of tea, coffee, milo, brownie, orange pound cake and delish lemon pound cake freely available for the nom-ing.

Tried to summarise some of the main ideas from the talks in the Wide Game, a time for campers to take in the fresh-ish air, lush greenery and sunshine along the Southern Ridges walk and chat about any questions they might have. Hampered by prior complaints, the clues were roll-eyes easy-peasy cheesy, which would have taken the fun out of entire enterprise...if the aim had been the game per se. But "to a Jew, I become like a Jew, to win the Jews" (1 Corinthians 9:20) and loftier goals were, err, afoot.

The intensity of camp compressed time so it seemed that changes to mindsets, worldviews, Bible-reading skills and even gospel-living-out that would usually have been wrought over a lengthy period were observed to occur within a few days amongst the campers and leaders, PG.

I wonder if the encouragement of camps oughtn't be the increase of attendees but in light of the immense love of God himself, the increase of love for God and his people - the visible work of God in confirming his people as his own.

Anniversaries of Birth-Days

Hello, my name is Sick Like Dog. Which is how I came to be stuck in a hot little room with a dead chick, Kami Sakura. Easy pickings for a weekend dinner.

Said chook felt faint at the prospect of something somewhat indelicate being done to her with a lemon.

1 chicken
salt
pepper
butter
olive oil
lemon

1. Give chook a rinse.
2. Pat dry, paying special attention to her under-wing area.
3. Massage with butter.
4. Anoint with olive oil.
5. Season with salt and pepper inside and out.
[At this point, she will ignore your offer of chardonnay.]
6. Roast at 220°C for 1h.
7. Deglaze pan with residual chardonnay.

Very Dead and Also Resting.

My name is Pukka, I live on the second floor.

And enough to shred and make a sandwich of good thick bread, slightly melted "cave-aged" gruyère, lingonberry jam and fried sage leaves.

After superinfecting the office, managed to recover somewhat in time for the boss and colleagues poking their heads round the piles of paper with a cake (and the injunction not to blow out the candles for fear of infecting the uninfected - a heavy reference book snapped close suddenly did the job as well);


a satisfying lunch with colleagues at Brotzeit, satisfying someone's sauerkraut cravings, discussing parenting styles;


an old friend popping down for lunch at Ajisen, chatter about missionaries and OMF, old preachers and male leadership in churches;


surprise longevity buns during a very tasty work dinner at East Ocean Teochew Restaurant where the off-menu food was fantastic and remarks were continually made about my relative youth amongst the two tables;


the mish-mash hilarity of too many journos and ex-journos in the same room brimming with stories of the gross and grotesque and something about mystery shoppers and food reviewers,

washed down with much alcohol, salty Sakura tea, and fortified with three different types of cakes;


good shabu-shabu buffet at En Dining, Crown Centre. Well-marbled sliced beef, good beef capaccio, yummy grilled beef cubes, sashimi salad, bittergourd with egg and spam. The yakitori was ok. But the chicken dishes were either made from poor quality chicken or overcooked. An interestingly milky sake not on the menu. Later, the smoochee was traumatised, but the smoocher was quite proud of himself. Still later, the 12 year Bowmore would have gone down even better after a ski trip, while lounging before a roaring fire in a snow-covered chalet. Godstuff gossip;


favourite Teochew-Hokkien ngor hiang and hei cho, fish maw soup, stodgy dark noodles (and not so favourite roast chicken) at Beng Hiang;


long overdue catch-up nosh at Nirai Kanai then dessert at P.S. Cafe, Palais;


and of course, what would celebrations be without a juicy patty of dead cow, with bacon, melted cheese and portobello mushroom. Behold a burger so thick you'd have to dislocate your lower jaw eating it. Washed down with Flying Dog's Doggie Style Classic Pale Ale.

While sms greetings clogging up the inbox, cards in the mail, presents tied up with silk ribbons and good food with good friends and much more slated in the weeks to come are all nice things, I have never really gone in for the celebrating of birthdays. Too me-centred. And I hadn't even asked to be born, so not much of an achievement there.

However, listening to William Taylor of St. Helen's Bishopsgate on a series on Discipleship with Distinction: the Book of Daniel has made me repent of this. In Daniel, we see the God who not only outlasts generations of Babylonian kings who come and go like a breath in the wind, we also see the God who raises up and brings down these kings to suit his purposes. So while birthdays aren't celebrations of me and a measure of my personal popularity, they should at least remind us that it was God who ordained this birth, who kept such-and-such a person watered and fed and gave him/her growth, and who ultimately gave him/her life for only one purpose: to worship God.

And the scales (Daniel 5:27) that weighed the great kings of the past like Nebuchadnezzar and Darius and the lesser kings like Belshazzar will too weigh us. If a birthday boy/girl was sent to meet his/her Maker still togged out in party hat with cake knife in hand, will we be found wanting, massively failing the purpose of our very existence?

Possibly a self-check question best asked more than once a year.

(Notes, mostly to self, 'bout changes in interests, recently observed:

1. fiction - either written or in audio-visual format is rarely interesting anymore. The gritty reality of really living in a community of sinners and being fairly aware of own sinfulness is enough drama for me.

2. nature programmes - having grown up on marigold yellow piles of National Geographic, we took a break from all that eating, thinking that Yann Arthus-Bertrand's Home would be just the thing to end the week. But though the aerial shots were beautiful, the irritation just grew through the 90 minute film. Glenn Close as narrator tried to make the most of a weak emotive script that unsurprisingly failed time and time again to acknowledge the Creator, instead attributing the miracle of life to the earth or to inheritance. (Watch the movie here.))