People at college constantly ask me what I have against the Germans - is it the war? Or just some crass bigotry on my part? The answer is that I love Germans; if I didn't love Germans I couldn't enjoy living in the South Burnett (most of my neighbours are Germans). Germans, however, are very different from the rest of us (especially if the rest of us happen to be Irish, like me). Whereas I am a non-linear thinker, Germans are linear. They are so linear that they are disappointed that they can't take short cuts in their linear thinking and get to the conclusion even quicker. I enjoy the ride. And the odd stop to admire the view along the way.
But anyway, to demonstrate the reasons I love Germans I've put this post together. Here goes.
1. They invented lager. The Irish are good at making Beer, too, but a light, intentionally cold beer like a lager, instead of a heavy, not always cold beer like stout, is much better in the Queensland climate. It tastes good, too, especially in summer. The Germans seem to be the best at making it - when I was in Africa the best beers were made by Germans, often from Namibia.
2. Small goods. The Germans have given us much in the way of small goods - cabana, wurst, smoked sausages, etc. This goes together very nicely with their beer. What would life be like without small goods? (Longer, perhaps, Morphy, but also deprived of a taste sensation).
3. Armaments. The readiest example of what I'm talking about here is the MG 42. This was the German belt fed machine gun during WWII. It was so good that the Americans copied it and called it the M 60. The only trouble was that firstly, it was rubbish, and secondly, that the Australian Army bought them. The Germans made them after the war and called them the MG 3, which was on the Leopard II tanks (which the Australian Army had until recently), and were very good. Good design and good manufacture resulting in a good piece of equipment. Germans have focus. They don't do things by halves - they do things properly.
4. Good farmers. German dedication shows in the way they run their farms - neat, tidy, and well managed. Germans know their stuff. Some of them are resistant to change, but those that adopt new innovations do so with the precision and dedication that we expect from them. They don't win every match, but they always land on their feet. In the early days they often got the worst land but still managed to survive and do well on it, and they are still going strong today.
5. Theology. The Germans really went off the rails theologically in the 1800s, and have never really recovered. In the last hundred years von Rad, Rendtorff and others have had some useful things to say about the Old Testament, but they have produced no strictly orthodox standouts in theology. Until you look at their diaspora. Geisler, Waltke and others from North America provide worthwhile reading which gives the liberals a run for their money. Closer to home is my own principal, Bruce. The second time I met him (our interview) something twigged me to him being of the Teutonic race - firstly his direct, dogmatic and insistent stand on all things evangelical and reformed, and then his physical appearance. A couple of years ago I was having a polite debate with Mr Vonhof about the demise of contemporary German theology, and, (with the ascent of Mr Kristofel) asked 'When did you last produce an orthodox theologian?'
"Hmmm," thought Glen. "Its been a while, hasn't it. I think it was probably Martin Luther." Checkmate. They've always got to bring up kicking off the Reformation. Still and all, the rest of us can be eternally grateful that they did.
So, there are my first five examples of why I love Germans. Think about it, and maybe you can come up with your own five reasons which make the Germans so lovable (even if you are German). I'm not suggesting Germans are perfect (they did after all start two World Wars, and lost both of them, in spite of their very good gun-making ability - this represents a serious character flaw), just that there are many good things in what makes them different that compliments the rest of us.
Monday, 18 April 2011
Thursday, 7 April 2011
Being serious
Presbyterians are serious people. Many things are they serious about, but one of the things they are really serious about is the Bible.
When you are among people who don't take the Bible as seriously as these guys do, and if you yourself don't take the Bible as seriously, then different things will matter. But when you are serious about the Bible, and are among others who take it seriously, then certain issues and how you deal with them take a different style of dealing with.
Creation, for example. Me, being someone who takes the Bible at face value (ie, a fundie, or, put differently, someone who believes what most orthodox Christians have always believed), was certainly in the minority in my old denomination. They had grown beyond that sort of thing, you see, because the Bible was no longer the word of God and without error. They were, however, 'tolerant', and that meant they were supposed to tolerate people like me with antiquated views of the Bible. I never had anyone say anything to me about being 'wrong' (or even different) - perhaps it was rather quaint that some people still existed in the world who had those sort of beliefs, and they treated me a bit like the Tasmanian Tiger.
The New Presbyterians (and other evangelicals at college) are different. Everyone has the same basic view of the Bible, so when we disagree on this or any of the other hot button issues, our battle ground is not opinion or personal preference but understanding and interpreting the word of God. There are more people who think what I think than I am used to, but the people who don't think like I think are also more vocal about why they think I am wrong, and why I ought to change.
While this might be confronting in one way it is also reassuring in another - we are, despite our deep disagreements, actually in agreement about the important things like Christ, the atonement, and the nature of Scripture. It also makes the little things into bigger things, however, because how we read the Bible effects these big, core beliefs. A misreading on the periphery may lead to a misreading at the central core, and no one wants that.
We reformed people are serious, and we do serious things seriously. Those who agree with my position on creation include those who deny the Trinity and Christ's once for all atoning work (Jehovah's Witnesses and Orthodox Jews), so we don't have a common fellowship of faith, merely of a deeply held conviction relating to our faith. My view of creation isn't the only thing, let alone the main thing I want people to hear me talking about (unless it is their stumbling block in getting to Jesus). Those who agree with my core theology yet disagree on this matter, however, need to understand how foundational it is both to the nature of God and his redemption of mankind. Despite this, though, you are still my brothers and sisters in Christ.
Jesus makes a big claim on our lives, and we should all follow him. Seriously.
When you are among people who don't take the Bible as seriously as these guys do, and if you yourself don't take the Bible as seriously, then different things will matter. But when you are serious about the Bible, and are among others who take it seriously, then certain issues and how you deal with them take a different style of dealing with.
Creation, for example. Me, being someone who takes the Bible at face value (ie, a fundie, or, put differently, someone who believes what most orthodox Christians have always believed), was certainly in the minority in my old denomination. They had grown beyond that sort of thing, you see, because the Bible was no longer the word of God and without error. They were, however, 'tolerant', and that meant they were supposed to tolerate people like me with antiquated views of the Bible. I never had anyone say anything to me about being 'wrong' (or even different) - perhaps it was rather quaint that some people still existed in the world who had those sort of beliefs, and they treated me a bit like the Tasmanian Tiger.
The New Presbyterians (and other evangelicals at college) are different. Everyone has the same basic view of the Bible, so when we disagree on this or any of the other hot button issues, our battle ground is not opinion or personal preference but understanding and interpreting the word of God. There are more people who think what I think than I am used to, but the people who don't think like I think are also more vocal about why they think I am wrong, and why I ought to change.
While this might be confronting in one way it is also reassuring in another - we are, despite our deep disagreements, actually in agreement about the important things like Christ, the atonement, and the nature of Scripture. It also makes the little things into bigger things, however, because how we read the Bible effects these big, core beliefs. A misreading on the periphery may lead to a misreading at the central core, and no one wants that.
We reformed people are serious, and we do serious things seriously. Those who agree with my position on creation include those who deny the Trinity and Christ's once for all atoning work (Jehovah's Witnesses and Orthodox Jews), so we don't have a common fellowship of faith, merely of a deeply held conviction relating to our faith. My view of creation isn't the only thing, let alone the main thing I want people to hear me talking about (unless it is their stumbling block in getting to Jesus). Those who agree with my core theology yet disagree on this matter, however, need to understand how foundational it is both to the nature of God and his redemption of mankind. Despite this, though, you are still my brothers and sisters in Christ.
Jesus makes a big claim on our lives, and we should all follow him. Seriously.
Sunday, 27 February 2011
Big hat, not cattle
About two years ago my Dad bought a cattle block. My Dad, like me and my Grandfather, however, has never realy been much of a cattleman: he seems to be changing, however. He doesn't do much of the day to day work, but he does seem to be taking more interest in cattle than I've ever seen before.
I am, too. One of the changes in moving out to the South Burnett is the change in butchers - the previous owner of the Kilkivan butcher started an appreciation for good grassfed steak, and the others have done good things to encourage our meat eating generally, whether it be in the line of small goods, bacon or Barker's Creek pork steaks, they've got good products and sell them for a reasonable price.
As a kid I can remember my Mum cremating steaks - cooked on too low a heat, for too long, and turned too often. In her defence, she says my Grandmother was worse. You would have too feel sorry for the cow - it was bad enough to die once without having to go through that experience. But that has changed - a good steak, cooked (by someone other than Mum) quickly on a high teperature plate is an entirely different proposition, and I think this might be why the old man and I are appreciating cattle more now than we did before.
One of the books I never got to read over my college break was the Tain (The Cattle Raid of Cooley): the Irish Illiad. Isn't it strange that the Greek national saga is about everyone going to war over a woman, and our heroes go to war over a steak? And in the end, the Brown Bull of Culange goes mad and kills himself by taking on a dirty big rock an losing.
Steaks taste good, but cattle are still stupid.
I am, too. One of the changes in moving out to the South Burnett is the change in butchers - the previous owner of the Kilkivan butcher started an appreciation for good grassfed steak, and the others have done good things to encourage our meat eating generally, whether it be in the line of small goods, bacon or Barker's Creek pork steaks, they've got good products and sell them for a reasonable price.
As a kid I can remember my Mum cremating steaks - cooked on too low a heat, for too long, and turned too often. In her defence, she says my Grandmother was worse. You would have too feel sorry for the cow - it was bad enough to die once without having to go through that experience. But that has changed - a good steak, cooked (by someone other than Mum) quickly on a high teperature plate is an entirely different proposition, and I think this might be why the old man and I are appreciating cattle more now than we did before.
One of the books I never got to read over my college break was the Tain (The Cattle Raid of Cooley): the Irish Illiad. Isn't it strange that the Greek national saga is about everyone going to war over a woman, and our heroes go to war over a steak? And in the end, the Brown Bull of Culange goes mad and kills himself by taking on a dirty big rock an losing.
Steaks taste good, but cattle are still stupid.
Friday, 4 February 2011
Book learning
As I reflected on my resignation from the Uniting Church the other day (perhaps as I was rereading the letter) I realised how those brilliant moments of clarity so often in my life have come during or upon reflecting upon reading something in print.
Davis McCaughey's commentary on the 'Basis of Union' and Andrew Dutney's reflection on Church Union were the two key works that said 'The Basis of Union isn't for me'. When my old minister filmed my testimony a few years back, again and again my words were, 'I read this book, and it changed me' or 'I read these two books that really changed the way I thought about how God works, and it made him more real to me', and to add emphasis they spliced in images of those books. Me, and books. When people asked me how I went with the flood recently, one of the first things I would say was, 'The books were okay', and how to keep them dry is one thing that up my mind in case it happens again.
Going to college is a temptation as well as a privilege - I am surrounded by so many great books, yet know I only have 5 subjects this semester; the temptation is ever present to read something completely unrelated, and I often do, if only to give myself a break from what I am studying for credit. At the moment it is on baptism - 'The Waters That Divides', on the business of infant or believer's baptism. I used to be strongly behind believer's baptism, but at the moment I'm coming more and more toward seeing infant baptism not merely as a valid choice, but as a choice I myself might support.
Davis McCaughey's commentary on the 'Basis of Union' and Andrew Dutney's reflection on Church Union were the two key works that said 'The Basis of Union isn't for me'. When my old minister filmed my testimony a few years back, again and again my words were, 'I read this book, and it changed me' or 'I read these two books that really changed the way I thought about how God works, and it made him more real to me', and to add emphasis they spliced in images of those books. Me, and books. When people asked me how I went with the flood recently, one of the first things I would say was, 'The books were okay', and how to keep them dry is one thing that up my mind in case it happens again.
Going to college is a temptation as well as a privilege - I am surrounded by so many great books, yet know I only have 5 subjects this semester; the temptation is ever present to read something completely unrelated, and I often do, if only to give myself a break from what I am studying for credit. At the moment it is on baptism - 'The Waters That Divides', on the business of infant or believer's baptism. I used to be strongly behind believer's baptism, but at the moment I'm coming more and more toward seeing infant baptism not merely as a valid choice, but as a choice I myself might support.
Tuesday, 25 January 2011
I was thinking about common grace an awful lot lately when my place got swamped, and all sorts of people from my neighbours (they were closest and helped out first - after all, we were cut off from the rest of the world for about two or three days) to my family to people in my Apex club and my church, as well as some kind people from the local school who just turned up one afternoon and wanted to lend a hand and help clean up. Some of these people were Christians. Some were not. Some I have no idea. What I do know is that in a time of need they helped me, and I am grateful to them all.
This would be an argument from some (not that anyone who helped out was into a gabfest on philosophy - you had to keep your gob shut to keep the silt out) that religion is irrelevant and that as long as in times like this we all pull together and help each other out that is the important thing. I don't think so - it didn't was with me before and it doesn't now.
I was raised as an atheist. My parents are both members of the 'good person religion' - they claim that either nothing is out there or if there is they don't know what it is. And I don't know what it is, either, even if I think I do. The most important thing is that you are a 'good person'.
Being a good person is important - I received help from all sorts of people who were doing a good thing - helping out someone who couldn't help themselves (ie, me). At times in the past I've had the chance to help other people out, and I hope I will have the chance to do so into the future. It makes me fell good, and it is the right thing to do - it accords with my conscience. In addition to this, I know as a Christian it is what God wants me to do. That is why he gave us all a conscience to begin with.
When we do good, or when we see other people doing good to us, what we see is image bearers of a good God doing good, just as their Creator did before them and does beside them. No matter if people deny that they were made by a good God with their words, yet they cannot help but do good things at least some of the time because they bear His image still. What I see when I see people of whatever religion doing good to help someone in need is that this is the goodness, the grace, of finite, fallen, imperfect people. How much more, then, should we not be open to the grace that comes from the perfectly good and incredibly strong God who made us?
This would be an argument from some (not that anyone who helped out was into a gabfest on philosophy - you had to keep your gob shut to keep the silt out) that religion is irrelevant and that as long as in times like this we all pull together and help each other out that is the important thing. I don't think so - it didn't was with me before and it doesn't now.
I was raised as an atheist. My parents are both members of the 'good person religion' - they claim that either nothing is out there or if there is they don't know what it is. And I don't know what it is, either, even if I think I do. The most important thing is that you are a 'good person'.
Being a good person is important - I received help from all sorts of people who were doing a good thing - helping out someone who couldn't help themselves (ie, me). At times in the past I've had the chance to help other people out, and I hope I will have the chance to do so into the future. It makes me fell good, and it is the right thing to do - it accords with my conscience. In addition to this, I know as a Christian it is what God wants me to do. That is why he gave us all a conscience to begin with.
When we do good, or when we see other people doing good to us, what we see is image bearers of a good God doing good, just as their Creator did before them and does beside them. No matter if people deny that they were made by a good God with their words, yet they cannot help but do good things at least some of the time because they bear His image still. What I see when I see people of whatever religion doing good to help someone in need is that this is the goodness, the grace, of finite, fallen, imperfect people. How much more, then, should we not be open to the grace that comes from the perfectly good and incredibly strong God who made us?
Acts of God
One of my neighbours grew a crop under contract to supply a certain quanity to a designated buyer. It has rained like Billy-oh on it for the last couple of months (basically since it came out of the ground) and even though it has dried up and it has started to grow again he isn't likely to get his required tonnage. However, he has a clause in his contract that allows him to default if it is an 'Act of God' that prevents him from harvesting the right amount, and the unusually high rainfall (which led to the unusually high flood we've just had) will certainly qualify for that.
Hmmm.
If one of my neighbours can't grow a decent crop because it rains far in excess of what it usually does around here (or it doesn't rain at all), and we collectively blame God, who gets the credit when he does the same work with the same inputs and gets an average yeald in an average year? Is that solely an 'Act of Dave'?
I know that Greg and Dave and Jason and so on work hard and smart to grow what they can, and sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn't, but is it only the really crook weather that God is in charge of, or does He deserve some credit when things go right, too?
Hmmm.
If one of my neighbours can't grow a decent crop because it rains far in excess of what it usually does around here (or it doesn't rain at all), and we collectively blame God, who gets the credit when he does the same work with the same inputs and gets an average yeald in an average year? Is that solely an 'Act of Dave'?
I know that Greg and Dave and Jason and so on work hard and smart to grow what they can, and sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn't, but is it only the really crook weather that God is in charge of, or does He deserve some credit when things go right, too?
Saturday, 1 January 2011
Submission
Authority is an interesting thing to think about. We all have at least one, whether we like to admit it or not. Having been reading a bit of the Uniting Church's Basis of Union and some commentaries upon it has raised the issue of the authority of scripture. As Davis McCaughey notes, the Uniting Church recognises the scriptures of the Old and New Testaments have been recieved by the church and are an authority over the Church, but the Basis is intentional in not getting bogged down in what kind of authority the scriptures are.
Along the lines of authority I can't help but reflect back on a discussion during a class in which one of the teachers, reflecting on the rape of Dinah, pointed out the treatment of Dinah as property by both the Canaanites and her own family and how she was abused on virtually every front as a human being. As she became more emotional and vehmenent, she closed her discourse by saying that this (and other similarly violent passages in the Old Testament like it), for her, was not the word of God.
This raised one immediate concern on my part, which was that I had been too flipant in my reading of these passages (it was one of my favourites when I was 18 and just starting to read the Bible because of the successful against the odds revenge by Dinah's brothers) and of the abuse that women are especially vulnerable to, and more so in a society like the Ancient Near East.
It also raised another concern which I thought about more as time passed: how was my teacher able to distinguish what parts of the Bible were and were not the word of God, relevant to the teaching and building up of the church? What if she had a passage which she considered to be the word of God but I did not consider to be the word of God? Who then would be the arbiter of what was authoritative in such a dispute? It seemed then, as it does now, that my teacher was displacing the Bible and the God who inspired it from the rightful place of authority over the church. Such 'nasty' passages are in the Bible, I believe, not because God condones despicable behaviour (either by those who are his covenant people or those who are not) but because the Bible is a real book for the real world, and in the real world despicable things happen. Thankfully, God recognises the problem and himself ultimately provides the solution.
Along the lines of authority I can't help but reflect back on a discussion during a class in which one of the teachers, reflecting on the rape of Dinah, pointed out the treatment of Dinah as property by both the Canaanites and her own family and how she was abused on virtually every front as a human being. As she became more emotional and vehmenent, she closed her discourse by saying that this (and other similarly violent passages in the Old Testament like it), for her, was not the word of God.
This raised one immediate concern on my part, which was that I had been too flipant in my reading of these passages (it was one of my favourites when I was 18 and just starting to read the Bible because of the successful against the odds revenge by Dinah's brothers) and of the abuse that women are especially vulnerable to, and more so in a society like the Ancient Near East.
It also raised another concern which I thought about more as time passed: how was my teacher able to distinguish what parts of the Bible were and were not the word of God, relevant to the teaching and building up of the church? What if she had a passage which she considered to be the word of God but I did not consider to be the word of God? Who then would be the arbiter of what was authoritative in such a dispute? It seemed then, as it does now, that my teacher was displacing the Bible and the God who inspired it from the rightful place of authority over the church. Such 'nasty' passages are in the Bible, I believe, not because God condones despicable behaviour (either by those who are his covenant people or those who are not) but because the Bible is a real book for the real world, and in the real world despicable things happen. Thankfully, God recognises the problem and himself ultimately provides the solution.
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