Dreamer

The internet says that adults spend roughly a third of their sleep time dreaming.

I do not know if this is true.  I do not know if the person who wrote the internet was lying when they covered 'dreaming statistics'.

Most of my dreaming seems to happen the night after a particularly strong cheese course.  They are not about sex, contrary to what the internet might say.  Well okay,... they're not all about sex...

Joseph in Genesis was a dreamer.  Not satisfied with merely dreaming that his parents and siblings bowed down and honoured him, he took the ill advised and unpolitical step of telling them about it.

He would have been popular at the dinner table that evening!

Well, he got himself into a hole lot of trouble (see what I did there?).

But it was part of God's master plan.  Despite the fact Joseph's family relationships were at an all time low.  Despite the fact he had to turn down a smoking hot older woman. Despite the fact he had questionable taste in colourful outerwear.  Despite the fact he did jail time.

He kept dreaming.

Don't dream someone else's dream.

Don't dream the thing you think you should dream about.

Don't dream the things your parents or your friends think you should dream about.

Don't dream the things that Apple or Facebook tell you to dream about.

Dream your dream; God's dream for you.

Drifter

No, I'm not talking about the chocolate version, a blend of chocolate and wafer and lip-smacking caramel.  No, I'm not talking about the Deep Purple song, or the Iron Maiden song, or the Sylvia song.

And no, I'm not talking about the obligatory beach tourist stranded on a lilo and heading for the shipping channel either.

A drifter is a person with no permanent home, no fixed abode.

"We must pay more careful attention. therefore, to what we have heard, so that we do not drift away." [Hebrews  2v1]

The writer of this book is telling us to listen up, cock those ears, concentrate and focus. But not on new stuff.

He is not saying you should pay more careful attention to your social networking 'status', regardless of whether it's desperately important like "I am drinking tea with your mum who is hot" or "I am wearing my Iron Man pants on backwards."

He is not saying you should focus on increasing your number of tweets per day, because let's face it, one is probably too many.

He is not saying you should pay more attention to dreaming about how you can obtain the ultimate medium sized family hatchback, the Audi RS3.

He is not saying you should listen more carefully to the new Christian 'thinkers' of this present generation.

Pay more careful attention to what you have heard.

Past tense.

So we don't drift. A warning.

So we don't become like people without a fixed abode, without purpose, people whose names are written on permanent reservation forms for some seriously high end Heavenly real estate but don't realise it.

The missionary position

The missionary position. Some people like it.  Others think it's boring.  Some are hooked on it, whilst others long to try something new.

Some Christians are in the missionary position overseas.  They learn tribal languages, translate bibles, make jewellery out of strictly natural sustainable materials, and wash off war paint in local waterfalls because they don't have bathrooms.

It's a bit like what Michael Palin does but they win audiences for the King of kings rather than BBC 2.

Jesus said, in Matthew 28 v 18 - 20, "All authority in Heaven and on earth has been given to me.  Therefore go and make disciples of all nations."

"I hold the key to everything in the spiritual and physical dimensions.  I'm giving this key to you.  Use it, make followers of me of all nations".

Make disciples of all nations.  Not do mission in all nations. Not make community in all nations.

Make disciples.

Not great church outreach programmes.  Not visits to eastern European orphanages.  Not good natured banter-filled housegroups. Not fair trade.

Make disciples.

Not smooth workplace ministries.  Not flirt to convert.  Not youth Monday night football.

Make disciples. Of Jesus.

The Commissionary Position.

Incomprehensible heart (part II)

In part I, I wrote about a 'housemate' of mine who runs around in the nude and loves to play 'fetch' with an inflatable globe.

What if a couple of times a week they left hard plastic toy eggs under your pillow?

What if their idea of generosity was to share with you a half masticated toast soldier with all the topping licked off?

What if they armed themselves against a telling off by grinning at you?

What if reading them their favourite duck book twenty times a day was not enough?

What if they knocked over every sandcastle you tried to build them, and did it with excited glee?

What if every time you said "Go, go, go" they ran forward flapping their arms, whatever the obstacle?

What if their idea of tidying the bedroom was to take everything off your bedside table and give it to you piece by piece?

What if they thought laundry baskets were for sitting in?

What if they ate sand and liked it?

What if they kept lifting your trouser leg and saying "sockssssss, socksssss"?

What if every time they came across a picture of little birds, instead of saying "chicks" they said something whose closest approximation is a well known English swear word?

What if they cuddled the phone every time you tried to speak to them on it?

What if they could projectile-snot, and do so whilst sneezing on a regular basis?

What if they thought smartphones were purely for watching the Free Bees Vodafone adverts on?

What if they brought your guests their shoes just after they'd arrived?

It's all about you

McFly once sang a song, "It's all about you, it's all about you baby."

Blogs are usually about the people that write them.  So to keep my ego sufficiently in check, this time it's all about you.

Who are you and where are you from?
You don't even have to be honest here if you don't want to, although a surfeit of James Bonds may cause suspicion...

What's your website/blog (if you have one)?
Pimp your website/blog to all 3 of this blog's regular readership..., unless your blog is really about pimping.  I have standards.

What's one website/blog you would recommend for fellow readers to check out?
Do the gracious thing, recommend a friend's blog, or recommend and then slate it in a friendly way, your call...

Answers on a postcard please, or failing that, in the comments section.

A fishy business

The television adverts say that the food of the gods is Ferrero Rocher.  If you read the Gospels you will find this is more wrong than beige socks with velcro sandals.

Because it's the fish finger sandwich.

In the gospel of Matthew Jesus fed them to 5,000 men, and then a bit later he did it for 4,000.  You could say he knew a thing or two about catering for large numbers.

In the gospel of John, a post resurrection Jesus cooked fish finger sandwiches for His disciples on an early morning beach barbeque.

The only thing better than a fish finger sandwich the morning after you've been slogging your guts out fishing, isn't a fish finger sandwich with wedges, but it's a fish finger sandwich served up by the King of the Universe.

The King of the Universe who said that "Man does not live by bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God" [Matthew 4:4].

Gutsy.  Robust.  It stands up to scrutiny and changes your life. And I'm not talking about a fish finger sandwich.


[Ooh one last thing, if the blog somes up with a few black/orange graphics like before, then hit reload/refresh a couple of times and it should load right]

Yesterday's waves

This week whilst at a random church run playgroup, Class Act was asked whether she played a musical instrument.  She answered "Yes, a piano".

This was a sensible answer. If she had said harp or double bass, she would have been lying.  If she had said maracas or tambourine, she would have been half lying, for whilst she has neither, who can't play these?!

"That's not exactly portable is it..." came the response, before the responder launched into asking whether Class Act wanted to review the song list for a forthcoming "praise party" which that church was going to run for the playgroup.

Not wishing to poop the planned "praise party", Class Act agreed to review the song list.  It was a who's who of seventies and eighties Christian classics.

We're talking "If I were a butterfly I'd thank you Lord for giving me wings".  We're talking "Lord the light of your love is shining, in the midst of the darkness shining".  We're talking "Jesus love is very wonderful" and "Thank you Lord for this fine day".  The publishers of Junior Mission Praise would have tripped out.

Those songs just make you nostalgic don't they?  Throw in a "Make way for the King of Kings" with the women echoing the men, and a "Be bold, be strong", and you've got yourself a sepia tinted window into Christian heritage.

Some of you may think I'm taking the mickey.  Some of you may think I'm systematically slaughtering the robust Christian song choices of people whose hearts are in the right place.

But I'm not.

Their hearts are in the right place.  And those songs remind me of when I was a kid.  And I had a very happy childhood which I am extremely grateful for.

And it also reminds of a story told by my mother.  Apparently when I was seven I sang "Ascribe greatness to our God the rock" in the butcher whilst she was shopping.

You heard that right.  A seven year old, using mega big words, to describe a mega big God.

And that's why those songs rock in a world which overlooks them as mere pebbles. Pebbles which were washed up on this week's beach by the ocean waves of yesterday.

So which church songs bring back the toasty memories for you?