The following is an extract of a recent post from the EQUIP book club blog about John Piper's Don't Waste Your Life:
Back in the 1980s a popular bumper sticker claimed that “The one with the most toys wins!”. It was an amusing claim, but it revealed something more serious, something darker somehow. I wonder if anyone ever asked “Wins what?”. So much of life is about competition; we strive to be the best we can be, perhaps even hoping someone else isn’t better than our best. We might compare ourselves to others, evaluating our success by calculating our stockpile of ‘toys’, hoping that one day we can withdraw from the race and enjoy our toys in peace and serenity. Maybe that’s what you ‘win’? In Anne Tyler’s novel A Patchwork Planet, the main character Barnaby Gaitlin is a young man struggling through life, doing odd jobs for elderly people for a small fee. Over time a number of his regular clients die. On one particular day he is employed by the family of an elderly woman who has died, to help sort through her home, and during the course of the day Barnaby has a revelation:
Every now and then, in this job, I suddenly understood that you really, truly can’t take it with you. I don’t think I ordinarily grasped the full implications of that. Just look at all the possessions a dead person leaves behind: every last one, even the most treasured. No luggage is permitted, no carry-on items, not a purse, not a pair of glasses. You spend seven or eight decades acquiring your objects, arranging them, dusting them, insuring them; then you walk out with nothing at all, as bare as the day you arrived. (Anne Tyler, A Patchwork Planet, Vintage (London, UK), pp 284-285)
It’s possible to get caught up in the physical world around us, becoming attached to our possessions, careers and social position, all the time worrying if we have acquired enough ‘toys’ to ‘win’. But John Piper warns us that not only are we in danger of forgetting we can’t take the toys with us, but we also have no idea when the referee is going to call “Time!” and blow the final whistle: will it be in two years, in forty years, or at 3 o’clock this afternoon? Death informing life is an important principle for every Christian, and Piper expands on this further:
Daily Christian living is daily Christian dying. The dying I have in mind is the dying of comfort and security and reputation and health and family and friends and wealth and homeland. These may be taken from us at any time in the path of Christ-exalting obedience. To die daily the way Paul did, and to take up our cross daily the way Jesus commanded, is to embrace this life of loss for Christ’s sake and count it gain. (DWYL p 71)
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
It almost makes me laugh because it's so absurd. How the hell does one 'win at life' by collecting stuff? You die, your stuff stays here. You go bankrupt, you lose your stuff. Living for stuff is stupid. Living for stuff is ridiculously pointless. I really don't need to be eloquent to explain this.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Step away from the rhymes.
I have underestimated the effect of rhythm and meter in poetry. These techniques have a significant role in defining the tone of a poem. My attempts have focused mainly on rhyming and the impact has been somewhat happy and sing-song when I'm trying to express frustration, failure and deep thanksgiving. I feel these emotions, deeply, but simple rhymes aren't doing it justice. If the meter is not suitable for the content of a poem, it leads to, well, thematic incoherence.
The following is an example of meter being unsuited to the subject matter of felling poplar trees:
The poplars are fell’d, farewell to the shade
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade,
The winds play no longer, and sing in the leaves,
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.
Twelve years have elaps’d since I last took a view
Of my favourite field and the bank where they grew,
And now in the grass behold they are laid,
And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade.
(From The Poplar Field, Cowper)
The tone is almost playful when obviously the intent is for melancholy.
I'll keep this in mind if I should ever be inclined to express myself poetically again. Reading the last two poems I've posted honestly makes me cringe.
The following is an example of meter being unsuited to the subject matter of felling poplar trees:
The poplars are fell’d, farewell to the shade
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade,
The winds play no longer, and sing in the leaves,
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.
Twelve years have elaps’d since I last took a view
Of my favourite field and the bank where they grew,
And now in the grass behold they are laid,
And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade.
(From The Poplar Field, Cowper)
The tone is almost playful when obviously the intent is for melancholy.
I'll keep this in mind if I should ever be inclined to express myself poetically again. Reading the last two poems I've posted honestly makes me cringe.
Monday, April 27, 2009
The future I never expected.
It is very easy to resent living in Fairfield. I have done so ever since I realised that the further West you go, the more 'disadvantaged' people are perceived to be. Even though I've come to terms with the fact that I am a 'Westie' and have more or less embraced it, a part of me still cringes when I tell people where I'm from. I just assume that they think the worst and let's face it, they probably do.
International Studies was a dream come true: a year overseas in France. You couldn't get much further away from Fairfield than that and like everyone else, I really just wanted to get out. Money, success, a life worth living was not synonymous with Fairfield. My heart was so blind.
It amazes me how much God has changed the way I view the city that he has placed me in. Two years ago I would never have professed to love Fairfield. I wouldn't have bothered. Suddenly, I can't imagine being anywhere else in Sydney. Almost weekly I think about moving out, about trying to find the means to do so but the idea immediately floats back out of my mind as I remember that I need to be serving here.
I would love to be closer to UNSW. Words cannot express what it would mean for me to be able to get to uni in half an hour. Not to mention the fact that so much more is happening on the other side of Strathfield, I'd be able to go back to Oaktree with ease, I'd have independence, all of these wonderful things... (yes, I know I would have bills to pay but can we just ignore all that for a minute?)
But Fairfield is where I'm needed so Fairfield is where I'm going to stay. Goodness knows how this is going to affect the rest of my life's decisions: career, a relationship, but the words 'this life is just a bus stop' come back to me and things are put into perspective once again. It's so nice to just trust God and to live by faith rather than worry about idiotic things like socio-economic status. I was born and raised in Fairfield city (apart from a year stint in New Zealand when I was 4), so I'm basically screwed even if I happened to have some kind of prodigious talent.
I wish that the Christians in the Eastern suburbs would see the need here. People are so comfortable in their white anglo circles. People are so ready to go to deepest darkest Africa but would flinch at the idea of moving to Cabramatta. If I wasn't in Sydney I'd leave the country for, I don't know, Yemen (99% muslim population) but I don't need to get on a plane to find a cross-cultural mission field. I live in one.
Fairfield is far away, dull, and er, kind of unsafe but there are hundreds of thousands of people here who don't know Jesus. While everything and everyone else is telling me that the grass is greener on the other side (of the Harbour Bridge), my heart is exactly where it should be - committed to loving a broken city.
International Studies was a dream come true: a year overseas in France. You couldn't get much further away from Fairfield than that and like everyone else, I really just wanted to get out. Money, success, a life worth living was not synonymous with Fairfield. My heart was so blind.
It amazes me how much God has changed the way I view the city that he has placed me in. Two years ago I would never have professed to love Fairfield. I wouldn't have bothered. Suddenly, I can't imagine being anywhere else in Sydney. Almost weekly I think about moving out, about trying to find the means to do so but the idea immediately floats back out of my mind as I remember that I need to be serving here.
I would love to be closer to UNSW. Words cannot express what it would mean for me to be able to get to uni in half an hour. Not to mention the fact that so much more is happening on the other side of Strathfield, I'd be able to go back to Oaktree with ease, I'd have independence, all of these wonderful things... (yes, I know I would have bills to pay but can we just ignore all that for a minute?)
But Fairfield is where I'm needed so Fairfield is where I'm going to stay. Goodness knows how this is going to affect the rest of my life's decisions: career, a relationship, but the words 'this life is just a bus stop' come back to me and things are put into perspective once again. It's so nice to just trust God and to live by faith rather than worry about idiotic things like socio-economic status. I was born and raised in Fairfield city (apart from a year stint in New Zealand when I was 4), so I'm basically screwed even if I happened to have some kind of prodigious talent.
I wish that the Christians in the Eastern suburbs would see the need here. People are so comfortable in their white anglo circles. People are so ready to go to deepest darkest Africa but would flinch at the idea of moving to Cabramatta. If I wasn't in Sydney I'd leave the country for, I don't know, Yemen (99% muslim population) but I don't need to get on a plane to find a cross-cultural mission field. I live in one.
Fairfield is far away, dull, and er, kind of unsafe but there are hundreds of thousands of people here who don't know Jesus. While everything and everyone else is telling me that the grass is greener on the other side (of the Harbour Bridge), my heart is exactly where it should be - committed to loving a broken city.
Friday, April 24, 2009
She's at it again.
I have returned from a truly random expedition.
Dad suddenly pops his head into my room and asks if I'd like to go for a drive somewhere. Apparently it will be to my 'benefit'. I've been attempting to nap for the past 45 minutes but despite being dazed and confused, I agree.
One hour later I'm standing in a giant warehouse surrounded by racks of marked down designer clothing. A company in Melbourne has recently gone bust, everything must go, etc. Pick something dad says.
Random.
So I now have a nice new pair of jeans. I tried them on once again as I got home and I had a look at the tag: designed in Australia, assembled in China.
I inspected the stitching. Now I am by no stretch of the imagination a 'sewer', 'knitter' or even 'cross-stitcher'. I think most people would encourage me to keep away from needle-work of any kind (especially those on our church weekend away who were trying to teach me to knit), but I know quality. There were stitches all over the place and they were slightly frayed. I was able to pick up on all sorts of imperfections.
Assembled in China. Assembled by whom? Where? Was this person a child? What was this person's rate of pay? How many hours did they work in a day? How many pairs of jeans did they have to assemble per hour?
I cannot look at a piece of clothing without wondering who made it and under what conditions. I'd hoped that a more expensive pair of jeans might mean that those who made them were in no way exploited. However as I looked carefully over the handiwork it was easy to tell that they were made in a rush, in an attempt to fill an order and, I can only assume, by a person who was and probably still is in an awful circumstance.
Recommended retail price of the pair of jeans: $179.00
It's a joke.
And here's the trade-off: ethical consumerism is expensive. I'd have to pay around $300 for a pair of jeans that had not been made under illegal conditions. Fairtrade chocolate and coffee is more expensive. A Fairtrade pair of sneakers is more expensive. This is because the people who made them are actually getting a fair price for their labour. Clothes are absolutely impossible. I no longer consider a $5 t-shirt a bargain, I look at it and see the person in the sweatshop who made it.
I have a confession to make. Earlier this year I spent $100 on a pair of jeans. To a lot of people this may seem absolutely ridiculous. But I am adamant. Firstly, I buy one pair of jeans a year, if that. Secondly, this pair of jeans was marked down from $200. Thirdly, they fit perfectly and go with absolutely everything. Finally, they were made in Australia. I do not regret spending money on a pair of jeans that I get good use of and which I am 99% sure involved no exploitation in the process of their production.
But is this too much to spend? I don't buy clothing often. I've bought nothing but that pair of jeans since I came back from India and in light of that trip, spending such an amount on a pair of jeans was even more difficult. For me personally, sometimes spending a little more money on a piece of clothing that I know was not made in a sweatshop puts my mind at ease. Particularly when it's a pair of jeans that I wear all the time. Honestly, I don't think I could wear an engagement ring if I didn't know for sure that it was conflict-free because the thought that someone could have died to find the rock on my finger upsets me to no end.
Maybe this is overkill. Maybe this is a feeble attempt to justify expensive taste under the guise of 'ethical consumerism'. I hope not. At the end of the day: I'm willing to spend extra for a quality item made by somebody who was paid rightly.
I know of and I've read criticisms of Fairtrade goods, that in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't really make a difference. But if I can do something, somehow, however small, then I will. And if lots of other people decided to as well, then who knows what might happen. Suck it up and pay an extra 50 cents for a Fairtrade cup of coffee. Or you could always just decide that the problem is too big and too far away to deal with. It's not like you'd be the first.
What's behind the label?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nq4TglVSUJM
Why we should buy conflict-free diamonds:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xoJNwmZ74bU
Dad suddenly pops his head into my room and asks if I'd like to go for a drive somewhere. Apparently it will be to my 'benefit'. I've been attempting to nap for the past 45 minutes but despite being dazed and confused, I agree.
One hour later I'm standing in a giant warehouse surrounded by racks of marked down designer clothing. A company in Melbourne has recently gone bust, everything must go, etc. Pick something dad says.
Random.
So I now have a nice new pair of jeans. I tried them on once again as I got home and I had a look at the tag: designed in Australia, assembled in China.
I inspected the stitching. Now I am by no stretch of the imagination a 'sewer', 'knitter' or even 'cross-stitcher'. I think most people would encourage me to keep away from needle-work of any kind (especially those on our church weekend away who were trying to teach me to knit), but I know quality. There were stitches all over the place and they were slightly frayed. I was able to pick up on all sorts of imperfections.
Assembled in China. Assembled by whom? Where? Was this person a child? What was this person's rate of pay? How many hours did they work in a day? How many pairs of jeans did they have to assemble per hour?
I cannot look at a piece of clothing without wondering who made it and under what conditions. I'd hoped that a more expensive pair of jeans might mean that those who made them were in no way exploited. However as I looked carefully over the handiwork it was easy to tell that they were made in a rush, in an attempt to fill an order and, I can only assume, by a person who was and probably still is in an awful circumstance.
Recommended retail price of the pair of jeans: $179.00
It's a joke.
And here's the trade-off: ethical consumerism is expensive. I'd have to pay around $300 for a pair of jeans that had not been made under illegal conditions. Fairtrade chocolate and coffee is more expensive. A Fairtrade pair of sneakers is more expensive. This is because the people who made them are actually getting a fair price for their labour. Clothes are absolutely impossible. I no longer consider a $5 t-shirt a bargain, I look at it and see the person in the sweatshop who made it.
I have a confession to make. Earlier this year I spent $100 on a pair of jeans. To a lot of people this may seem absolutely ridiculous. But I am adamant. Firstly, I buy one pair of jeans a year, if that. Secondly, this pair of jeans was marked down from $200. Thirdly, they fit perfectly and go with absolutely everything. Finally, they were made in Australia. I do not regret spending money on a pair of jeans that I get good use of and which I am 99% sure involved no exploitation in the process of their production.
But is this too much to spend? I don't buy clothing often. I've bought nothing but that pair of jeans since I came back from India and in light of that trip, spending such an amount on a pair of jeans was even more difficult. For me personally, sometimes spending a little more money on a piece of clothing that I know was not made in a sweatshop puts my mind at ease. Particularly when it's a pair of jeans that I wear all the time. Honestly, I don't think I could wear an engagement ring if I didn't know for sure that it was conflict-free because the thought that someone could have died to find the rock on my finger upsets me to no end.
Maybe this is overkill. Maybe this is a feeble attempt to justify expensive taste under the guise of 'ethical consumerism'. I hope not. At the end of the day: I'm willing to spend extra for a quality item made by somebody who was paid rightly.
I know of and I've read criticisms of Fairtrade goods, that in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't really make a difference. But if I can do something, somehow, however small, then I will. And if lots of other people decided to as well, then who knows what might happen. Suck it up and pay an extra 50 cents for a Fairtrade cup of coffee. Or you could always just decide that the problem is too big and too far away to deal with. It's not like you'd be the first.
What's behind the label?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nq4TglVSUJM
Why we should buy conflict-free diamonds:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xoJNwmZ74bU
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
10 things on my mind.
1. Weekend away was cool. How can I put this... it challenged me practically, but not theologically. That's ok, I get enough of that from CBS.
2. We watched Amazing Grace at night church and now I'm all about William Wilberforce. I've been reminded of how important social justice is, that it's something that a Christian should be striving for in order to love and serve others. It's making me miss Oaktree even more.
3. High Tea is this week. I'm both nervous and excited. I'm praying it will come together.
4. I am so far behind in uni work it's ridiculous.
5. I am highly appreciative of a good pair of fleece-lined trackpants. At least I think it's fleece.
6. I cut my own fringe. Cutting your own hair is liberating, I must say. I'm still undecided as to whether or not I like it, though.
7. I'm contemplating leader's retreat this weekend. At the risk of sounding old, I don't want to wear myself out, though.
8. I'm super excited about Equip's fundraising project this year. So excited that I'm going to Facebook Note about it. Eventually.
9. I'm trying to write poetry at the moment but I don't know if it's any good. Doesn't really matter, it helps me express myself so whatevs.
10. A Christian should always be joyful.
2. We watched Amazing Grace at night church and now I'm all about William Wilberforce. I've been reminded of how important social justice is, that it's something that a Christian should be striving for in order to love and serve others. It's making me miss Oaktree even more.
3. High Tea is this week. I'm both nervous and excited. I'm praying it will come together.
4. I am so far behind in uni work it's ridiculous.
5. I am highly appreciative of a good pair of fleece-lined trackpants. At least I think it's fleece.
6. I cut my own fringe. Cutting your own hair is liberating, I must say. I'm still undecided as to whether or not I like it, though.
7. I'm contemplating leader's retreat this weekend. At the risk of sounding old, I don't want to wear myself out, though.
8. I'm super excited about Equip's fundraising project this year. So excited that I'm going to Facebook Note about it. Eventually.
9. I'm trying to write poetry at the moment but I don't know if it's any good. Doesn't really matter, it helps me express myself so whatevs.
10. A Christian should always be joyful.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Keeping the faith.
I am dragged down
I am ensnared
I am all that I despise
I am in chains
I am alone
I watch with fearful eyes
By what means shall I escape this?
The emptiness turns to dread
Shall I ignore the light that shines
And find comfort in the world instead?
Will a man give me the hope I need?
Or a family should I please?
Will money keep me so secure?
Will these things keep me off my knees?
It is strange
That as the darkness becomes darker
I finally start to see
Only keeping my faith in Jesus
Will truly set me free
I am ensnared
I am all that I despise
I am in chains
I am alone
I watch with fearful eyes
By what means shall I escape this?
The emptiness turns to dread
Shall I ignore the light that shines
And find comfort in the world instead?
Will a man give me the hope I need?
Or a family should I please?
Will money keep me so secure?
Will these things keep me off my knees?
It is strange
That as the darkness becomes darker
I finally start to see
Only keeping my faith in Jesus
Will truly set me free
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Feeling inadequate (and rightly so).
The spirit is willing
But the flesh is weak
If out of the overflow
Of my heart I speak
Then I fear who I am
Because sometimes my words
Break promises, tell lies
And I am assured
Once again that I'm fallen
Works simply won't do
When in thought, word and deed
I crucify you
But in my weakness
You are my strength
I take refuge in grace
And love of unimaginable depth
I know I fall short
But take heart, for indeed
Though I am a sinner
I am also redeemed
But the flesh is weak
If out of the overflow
Of my heart I speak
Then I fear who I am
Because sometimes my words
Break promises, tell lies
And I am assured
Once again that I'm fallen
Works simply won't do
When in thought, word and deed
I crucify you
But in my weakness
You are my strength
I take refuge in grace
And love of unimaginable depth
I know I fall short
But take heart, for indeed
Though I am a sinner
I am also redeemed
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