Please, no noise!

I never took offense to people with noisy cars before I had children. 

They were certainly unimpressive. Flaunting their powerful engines as they took off down the street. But now I get so incensed by our neighbours revving their engines in the driveway during baby sleep times that I feel myself get hot. That's a frightening level of anger. Especially towards someone who has no idea that there is a baby in the house near them. 

They don't realise (and neither did I until Avy arrived) that kids are quite sensitive sleepers. If they wake up and it's too hot to get back to sleep/ too noisy/ they're hungry/ they see an interesting toy, then that's it for the day. You can be assured that the remainder of the day is filled with a tired Mum (from little rest) and a grumpy child whose body begs for sleep, but who won't go back, no matter how much patting, milk bottles or shushing you do. This often leads to injury from tired little legs plodding around the house in an uncoordinated way, several tantrums from Mum saying 'no' to things they know they're not allowed to do and a general misery fills the house for the next 5 hours.

Then another attempted sleep time starts and this tired child is now over-tired and will not go to sleep unless you cuddle their heaving, wretching and shaking from sobs body almost to sleep. (This is not something I practice normally and am not keen to start accustoming myself to being 5 months pregnant.) A tired Mum, a tired baby and a very drawn out sleeptime leaves the whole house in a shambles for the rest of the night. Once she's finally asleep at 8.30, there's no way I have energy to do much healthy cooking or any cleaning to prepare myself for the following day.

These boys have no idea how their lives have collided with mine. I've never spoken a word to them in my life, but their actions have caused me suffering. And they'll probably never know it.

It makes me wonder whose lives I've impacted on negatively without ever having met them. If you're reading this and you think I might be that person- I'm sorry!

Why no boy angels?

It has recently come to my attention that the only angels we have heard about in the bible are boys/men. Well, who knows if they have the attributes of an earthly man (assuming not) but they have been given man names; Gabriel and Michael.

In light of this I pose that we rethink our church christmas nativity scenes. Girls are usually the ones to dress as angels and of  course, the role of Mary. The boys traditionally go for shepherds and wise men and Joseph. 

I'd be pretty happy if next year I saw even one boy dress as an angel with the head tinsel get-up. I think it would add some more realism to our Christmas events. Sure, the role of Mary may become even more coveted a role, seeing as how she'd be the only female role left, but what the hey? Girls would totally own the role of livestock.

Cotton-balled-self-esteem-Christianity.

So I guess the lack of posts on this site shows you that I am either uninspired or have had relatively few thoughts. Both of these have some truth as pregnancy seriously diminishes my brain power daily.

But mainly, it's just because when I think of writing something, I notice that those interesting thoughts have left me throughout the day. All that's there when I sit down here to type is a list of unfinished jobs around the house and the thought of what to cook for the evening.

But here's one for you.

(Aside- I probably haven't explained my view on this at all well. So I apologise for my crude thought process.) 

Several Christians have said recently comments along the lines of "Just because someone doesn't want to hear what you have to say about Jesus doesn't mean they're rejecting you. Don't feel bad about it. They're just rejecting God." 

Lunacy, I tell you! I think these phrases have been passed around a little too liberally in our Christian circles, given that they are absolute rubbish. 

We try to make ourselves feel better about being rejected by friends or colleagues by offloading their rejection so that Christ is separate from us. But if we are in Christ, we are united with Christ. 'I no longer live, but Christ lives in me' (Gal. 2:20) 

This is the only way I am saved from my sin. I am in Christ and he has suffered for my sin.  Me and Christ are together now. No longer separable. This is how salvation works. We are NOT Christ, but we are so linked with him when we accept him into our hearts, that the bible talks as us as being united with him. 'God made him, (Jesus) who had no sin, to be sin for us, so that IN HIM we might become the righteousness of God.' (2 Cor 5:21)

We are also united with Jesus in his resurrection. Christ is raised on high, and I am raised with him. "When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear WITH HIM in glory" (Col 3:4) 

I want to love this rejection from man! This is part of our fellowship with Christ, we shouldn't distance our participation in it or take us out of the equation! Paul explains in Philippians 3:10 'I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.' 

Moreover, part of Christ's suffering's was his rejection from man ' He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering' (Isaiah 53:3)

And Jesus explains clearly how we are to take this rejection from man. 

Jesus instructed seventy two of his followers to go into the towns before him, proclaiming that the Kingdom of God is near. He directs their thoughts to the outcome of those words "He who listens to you, listens to me; he who rejects you rejects me". 

Nowhere in this great speech does he say, "but don't worry, if they reject me, they aren't rejecting you. Don't take this personally or let this little growth opportunity damage your self-esteem, ok?" That sounds to me like our cotton-balled Westernised culture coming through, rather than the reality of the situation.

The thought of people rejecting Christ, but not myself who is preaching Christ, is an entire fabrication and quite offensive to God. They cannot reject Christ without rejecting ME. We can't be torn apart like that, and why would you want to do it anyway? This kind of talk reminds me of what Peter, a friend of Jesus, spouted at Jesus' capture. He tried to distance himself from his friendship with Christ in the same way that we do today to prevent the same rejection of man. 'A servant girl saw (Peter) seated there in the firelight. She looked closely at him and said "This man was with him." But (Peter) denied it. "Woman, I don't know him." '

If only our response was the same as Peter's when he realised his insult to God. Because Peter "went outside and wept bitterly." (Luke 22:62) We sometimes look at examples such as Peter in the bible and we think "Man, that guys loser. Jesus, our Lord was right there with him, and he still rejected him. What an idiot!" But this man didn't have Jesus living inside him. The spirit had not been poured out. How much more should we be ashamed of ourselves when we think or say stuff like this, with God's spirit living IN US. We should be ashamed and weep bitterly over our sin. And as we do, bring it before the Lord of all so he can carry our burdens and relieve us of our suffering. 

What an excellent God lives in us!

Sin starts early

I've been convinced over my life that sin is found in us from birth. We enter into sin and it becomes one with our thoughts and hearts.

So I'm not ultra surprised when I see Avalon's impatience break out. Now that her mind is developing sounds to communicate these thoughts, Craig and I have been bombarded with many angry grunts a day. Grunts when she's sick of waiting for her food (it takes all of 15 seconds, but 15 seconds too long), grunts when we say "no" and close a poisons cabinet that she's just opened (we're working on building up her immunity to pestisides and cleaning products), grunts about anything she finds dissatisfying. Really, angry grunt about many things she dislikes in the day, the regular one being nappy change time.

It's good to see this, I think, because as we get older, we get cleverer about hiding our sin. Clever thoughts may try to persuade you- "I wouldn't say that I'm evil,  I'd be happier with you saying that parts of me are evil, or that parts of me are swayed by evil, but I'm not evil from my own volition. Evil is something that's done to me, that corrupts the good in me. After all, God made me in his image. So deep down, I must be good." And as soon as you've finished the thought, you hear it as if someone's said it to you. And then you realise how stupidly sinful you are. 

We can't even think properly, we're so sinful. I'm sure most  (if not all) of my thoughts are incorrect, or if not incorrect, then definitely driven by evil motives. The more I see sin, the more I see that Jesus was the only way to free us. 

As a younger Christian, I thought God may have overshot the sacrifice. Surely enough spotless goats would do it. Or maybe if we gave him grainfed beef. But, no. God sacrificing himself makes more and more sense each living day as the effects of evil permeating our very essences is made clearer to me.

Another life

I'm totally thrilled about being pregnant again. As alien-like as it sounds, i enjoy the sensation of this little human squirm around inside of me. But pregnancy is also such a scary time. It reminds me of my limitations. I can't walk very fast without gasping for breath. I can't feel safe to protect myself and Avalon when we're faced with any type of threat. Because my fitness and stamina are so limited.

Ultimately, I think pregnancy makes me a more conservative person. Someone who won't take that chance to go out for the stroll alone at dawn on Saturday morning like I used to in Newtown to get to work at the bakery. Someone who is constantly assessing her surroundings and bypassing the smoking group of teenagers instead of walking past, just in case. It's scary being this scared. Because it's not a decision, it's innate. As though something primal reminds me continually of the life I bear and the other life that can't defend itself that sits up happily in the stroller. The protective thoughts that go through my head now I'm a mother are so foreign to how I would behave before.

A year and a half ago, I would feel confident that I could take on anything and anyone, and come out pretty unscathed. I was a resourceful and independent woman, quite capable of protecting herself from at least one nasty person on the streets. But now, the thought of being attacked with a baby in the belly and a child on one hip, sends me chills. 

I wonder if once my child nurturing years are behind me, I will once again return to the person I formally knew. My guess is that now I've experienced being someone's entire world, that responsibility will continue to shape my behaviour, even after the kids have families of their own. You always hear that motherhood will change your life. I never heard that motherhood would change your personality.

I like yoga... but

Taking advantage of the RPA's generosity in giving out free yoga classes, I decided to join a number of heavily pregnant women in bending our bodies week in, week out. And I have to say that i miss it so much that I hired a dvd to do some at home. (Please try not to imagine me as a lump in a jump suit like some of these women are. I'm not THAT into it.)

It concerned me that so many women were happy to listen to the yogic chants and accept them. Because, lets face reality, life is busy. If sitting on a mat, breathing deeply and raising arms is called valid exercise, I'm there. 

But until I went along, I never realised how much yoga exercise and the religion (Buddhism?) is related.

We chant things which are meant to help us deal with the birthing process. Here was one: "Imagine your contractions like a lotus flower, opening up and giving way to new life that you have created." This one wasn't so intrenched with alternate religion. But often, despite my relaxed state of consciousness, I would change the things the teacher would tell me so that the yoga class became for me, a meditation on God's power to create and his life-giving words.

It got me thinking to how great it would be to teach Christian meditation classes. There is so much value in sitting, stretching, and ridding yourself of all selfish thoughts and focusing on God. For example, when we chant in yoga "I am truth", this could very easily be altered to reveal something actually true: "God is the source of all truth. God is truth." Very simple really. Even better, we could use bible verses which say exactly this.

Here's another yogic chant I know you'll all get excited over " I bow to the infinite wisdom inside myself." Wow. And people say Christians are arrogant.

One of my many dreams in this life involves running classes so that Christians can learn to meditate properly. Meditate on Christ's words, because they are the only ones that will satisfy the thirst. Dwelling on why we're here, giving our anxieties to Him and of course, finding joy and peace in his boundless qualities. With a little bit of stretching as a side order.

Where to start? Anyone?

Marriage in the Pastorate Number 1

I am in the process of re-reading a book on marriage. More specifically, marriage in the pastorate. And I’ve had some very thought-provoking quotes to share with you.

I’m still not sure if I’ll recommend this book to other pastors’ wives, because I’m only in the first chapter and I can’t vouch for what I’ve forgotten is in the rest of it.

But here’s something for us to be inspired by and/or think about.

A Pastor’s wife in the states spends her week as a teacher in an urban ghetto in the USA. She also has a 2 year old son. Her husband is a pastor in this same disadvantaged area of the city. She sees her ministry as providing quality education to the poor of her country. And loves doing it. But this is what got me. When someone commended her for her work and asked her about what she does and why she says “We’re doing everything we can to bloom in the place where God has planted us.”

I found this extraordinary. It’s really nothing new, but it got me thinking about how often God moves me places, and I don’t have this attitude. I’m not necessarily talking about my situation now, but certainly, earlier in life I feel like I have planted my feet in the mud and God has had to carry me kicking and screaming. It makes me think of all of the missed opportunities because I wasn’t willing to blossom. I just wanted to be. Just plant me somewhere and we’ll see how I do.

What a huge loss for me. For others. I don’t want to “just be” where God has planted me anymore. I want to blossom! Give me bouquets that I have discovered along the way! I’ll take them and share them around to bring the joy of Christ into the hearts of whoever my neighbour is.

So much of my life has been wasted, and I’m sure much more to come. But hopefully, it will no longer be wasted by my immaturity in God’s plantings for me and my family.

I’m a Mum now, and my attitude will be reflected in my children. This time of my life, more than ever, should I be focusing on accepting God’s hand.

I don’t want my children to resent the Lord because I’m depressed that “Dad’s away on a leadership conference/ preaching overseas/ ministry gathering.”

More than anything, I am blessed because my husband is spending his life serving the Lord. And I admire him for that, and love him for it, and get inspired by it. Because to live is Christ and to die is gain. I read these things and think I believe it. Until the reality of what this might mean hits home. Maybe I will have to spend several weeks a year looking after a team of little bratty children Craig helped me create all on my own and I will get lonely. So what??? This is the game, Nicole! We’re not in training or at the afterparty. This is it. And however long Craig is away for the Lord’s work, I want my kids to get excited that “Dad is away doing the most important job in the world. He is serving our God and King. What a privilege it is for us to be a part of it!”

 

 

 

 

Married to a Pastor. London & Wiseman, Regal Books, 1999

A word of warning about decluttering...

I sometimes get a little carried away when I’m cleaning. Like, for example, when I cleaned out Newtown to come to live here. Some things I just couldn’t be bothered looking through and/or packing. So I just threw them away. If I hadn't used a kitchen utensil for 6 months, I thought It must be pretty useless. My thinking was that i'll just make do with something else. "Into the bin, my useless, cluttering, unnecessary junk-friend!"

Today, after toying with many other options for an egg holder (mug, bowl, between my knees) I finally settled for the muffin pan. And as I sit here eating my boiled eggs out of a muffin tin, I’m starting to think that I need to reassess my criteria for chucking. Maybe I should have kept one egg holder out of the six I had. Because, surely, one day in the next year, I would feel like boiled eggs for breakfast. Even when they weren’t high on my list of top breakfast choices earlier. You can never be too sure of the future. Lesson one - sometimes you need something only once a year.

I also think, from this morning’s dilemma, that I probably have a low view of modern inventions. I’m not even sure how modern an egg holder is. It probably dates back to the prehistoric Neolithic man, but even so. That man had an idea, and it made his life easier. I probably should give that man some respect, and not throw out every egg holder I have in a naive cleaning fit. Lesson two - some inventions are useful.

Thank you for your not-so-subtle rebuke, Neolithic man. I hear you loud and clear. Respect.

The joy of motherhood

Tonight I am tangibly filled with such a deep love for my daughter, Avalon. She touched my heart.

After crying for a little while, I decided to go see what the problem was because she hadn't settled herself back into sleep.

As I walked in she said "mumm." and then sat down.

My heart totally melted right there in the darkened room. To be called Mum by my own daughter for the first time was a special moment. She grabbed my hand as I lay her down to sleep and she held it against her cheek for a little while. Then sighed as if she just wanted to see me again, and turned her head to sleep.

I would do anything for her. Anything.

My thoughts go out to those pierced by the curse of this world. To those who have lost children. Either early or later in life. Their grief must be unbearable. And of course, the moment made me think of how high and wide God's love is for us. His own son, pierced for our wrongs. The only way to bring us together with our heavenly father eternally. So we aren't lost forever. What an admirable God! My love for him expands with each new experience of life as I understand him more.

The loss of an exceptional day…

 

Do you ever have an exceptional day? One of those days when your brain is working properly, and you feel inspired and like you could solve the worlds’ energy crisis with the power of your mind?

This is one of those days for me. Sadly, I know that in less than 15 minutes, my 8 month old daughter will awake, refreshed from a heavenly daytime sleep and require all of my energy to entertain her little growing mind. Here are some things I will not do this afternoon;

1. Solve the world energy crisis with an inspired regenerable energy source
2. Write a paper outlining exactly how the energy crisis will be solved
3. Ring up a parliamentary member with my idea and convincing them of said idea

 

Instead, I am aware that this rare day of brilliance will instead be filled with the following;

1. Dishes
2. Singing as many nursery rhymes as I can recall
3. Wrapping poo up in supposedly biodegradable (at some point in time) nappies
4. Possibly taking a crying child for a walk in the frickin’ freezing cold and picking up some more milk for when Craig returns from a conference, keen for a decent coffee tonight
5. Bathing a baby who has only been indoors all day and has still managed to get onto her hands and face every piece of filth in my house

In a sense, I’m relieved. Maybe I would have solved a part of the world’s energy crisis this afternoon (lets face it- it was a long shot) And it means that all this brilliance cannot be used on anything most people would see as worthwhile and brilliant. But, instead, it’s surrendered to helping someone else become brilliant. And I’m coming to accept that, no matter how frustrating it can be, becoming a mother truly must make you a better person.

This leaves me with two options- I could hate it and struggle through it and fight it every step of the way or accept it early and learn to love the sacrifice. And when I look to the cross of my saviour, I see my sacrifice really isn't that much of one anyway.

Addicted to Aussiemerican

I’m totally addicted. It’s a beautiful blend of flavour from both cultures. You can eat it as a snack, or go for the full breakfast meal. Many will scoff, but I say it’s the tastiest thing since… the invention of gravy chips by Hamish and Andy.

I’m talking bout Vege-bagel. The concoction sweeping the country (or the Hamilton household) with a vengeance. Like a well structured Tarantino movie, this tasty morsel leaves you wanting more.

You start with a pack of plain (not sesame) bakehouse bagels (or the like), toast to perfection and then add liberal amounts of butter (NOT margarine- this’ll kill it) and the beer-aftermath vegemite. It’ll literally blow your mind.

You’re probably thinking, “so what. I bet that just tastes like vegemite on toast. And that’s nothing revolutionary, Nik.” I beg to differ. Let me tease it out for you. (Heck, I have the time.)

As a cooking connoiser, I take into account the subtle blend of flavours on the palate. This dish combines a heaftier amount of palate-soothing carbohydrates than even a thick slice of toast to compliment the Australian creation of beer residue (vegemite).

It’s precisely these satisfying proportions which makes this particular aussiemerican delight so alluring. (Note Aussie goes first- it’s only fair. As Driscoll pointed out, channel 7’s coverage of the Olympics showed no other country winning as much as Australia. Oi Oi Oi)

Furthermore, a slice of toast is almost cold as soon as you finish condimenting it (adding the condiments to those advese to self word creation). The bagel on the other hand, will hold it’s heat well till the end of the last bite. A far superior substitute to toast.

Thank you for reading about the culture blend of the century. This is 4 minutes of your life which you’ll never get back. But  don’t blame me, I didn’t make you read it. You went into this of your own volition. So I have no sympathy in my pocket for you. But I may have a few pre-chewed rusks if you're interested.

My journey for doctrine lovin'

Doctrine.

 

Huh?

 

I’ll let you in on a secret. When I heard this word my mind would switch off. Not because the concepts were difficult to grasp (although sometimes they were) and not because exploring these thoughts made me feel small (although they often did). But singularly, because inside the tiny brain I call my own, I thought that doctrine and boring went together like macaroni and cheese.

It took me a long time and many ‘boring’ conversations later until God changed my heart to his Doctrine. The pivotal moment was when I heard that doctrine means ‘knowledge of God!’ And if the God of the world has made his knowledge of himself available to me, how is this in any way boring? He has obviously given me a mind. I can think (most of the time). I can conceptualise and create. I can understand. If I choose to. If I care.

I was in the territory of turning to my own way. And what would stop me? Where would the knowledge come from to straighten that crooked path? I’m thoroughly ashamed of my thoughts.

Believing that doctrine was not worthy of my energy was fundamentally ignorant. I’ve never thought that ignorance could define my spiritual life. But it did and probably still does in other unenlightened depths of my heart where I unknowingly cradle sin. If anything, knowing God should have got me trembling in my FMB’s. Sin is fuelled by ignorance.

To write plainly, the thoughts I held towards knowing the one true God were dangerous. Thankfully, God forgives readily and he kept my heart from straying through conversations with my godly and knowledgeable husband and more significantly, God’s holy spirit who is one with me.

 

Think about this- God has sacrificed himself completely to know me (a loser), and I can’t even be bothered to start the difficult process in understanding Him (a genius). I struggle to put into words how profoundly disturbing that is. I’m sitting here typing, thinking, “This doesn’t even start to explain the grief I feel about this sin in my heart.” 

Let me try harder. The pain is deep and heavy. It makes me take shorter breaths. The feeling is weighty and deeply significant.

 

I think Isaiah 56 talks about me. It prophesies straight into my life. God’s spirit has shaped my thinking and now I refuse to believe the lie I once, without scrutiny, held to be true.

 

So here’s the reality. GOD IS NOT BORING!

Thankfully, he set my heart on a path of WANTING to know him, and through immersing myself in his glorious-ness, I desired to know more.

And the second more provoking truth. Doctrine is for EVERY believer. (2 Timothy 3:15) This means I can't just pretend that knowing about God is for the leaders of our Church, or just for the Arch, maybe. I have to confront this truth head on and accept that I may have to do some hard work. I may have to read the bible. I may have to ponder God's words so they mean something to me rather than reading his words once, assuming if I don't get it first go, then it can't be that important.

  And of course, as we stand before the Holy, unblemished lamb- we are all losers. (Romans 3:23) So it's been made clear. I'm nothing. He's everything. Why am I still failing to see the significance of this? My Lord requires my mind along with everything else in my life. I can't imagine my relationship with my best friend surviving for very long if I didn't really listen to what she was saying to me. Why should it be any different in this friendship? He's astronomically more valuable to me, and my actions should show this.

Doctrine is what tells me that God is good. That man needs a deliverer. That salvation is at hand. That the Lord has completed the task of liberating me from all my wrongs through the one act of heartwrenching sacrifice. That God is completely worth my energy and efforts to understand him.

I refuse to be “blind”. I refuse to “lack understanding”. I will strive to see God as incredibly valuable. I will fight to remember these truths, because my heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. (Jeremiah 17:9) I’ve got the Lord’s words for my life in the bible to direct me and to make me wise for salvation through faith in Jesus.

 

The Lord is found in doctrine. And therefore salvation is found through doctrine. 

I'm now a firm believer that doctrine is for losers. Of which I am the greatest.