Throughout my Journal, and on other pages of this website, I have written of my personal spiritual journey so that others who are interested may read of the road along which I have travelled in my faith in God. On this page I have gathered up those vignettes, ordering chronologically the development of this most precious relationship of my life.

This is the story of how God and I have encountered each other during my time in this world, the part especially where I have noticed Him although He has always known me, always been with me… as He knows and is with each one of us. All of us are called to acknowledge Him, and my hope is that you who are reading here will also respond to His call and come to the foot of His cross where you will meet Him, He who would be your Saviour and your forgiving, loving Lord.

But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
and by his wounds we are healed.

(Isaiah 53:5)

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Note: new posts follow below.

“Are you OK?” my husband asked cautiously. The concern in his voice caught my attention. I fumbled about and managed to prick my finger. “No, not really,” was my slurred response. I managed to get a glucose lolly into my mouth. “But I will be soon,” I tried to say. He looked across at my glucometer which was reading just 1·8 mmol/L. That was the second time in as many days that it had dropped that low… too low, seriously low. Normal blood sugar is in the range of 4 to 8 mmol/L and anything under 2 mmol/L is moving into medical emergency territory. After the lolly, plus 24 grams of a more sustaining carbohydrate (2 plain slices of Bürgen® Soy-Lin bread, toasted) and soon I was back to near normal again. It’s all a matter of balance.

Just as an anorexic can usually tell you exactly how many calories in a sunflower seed, so many diabetics get to know how many carbs, and of what kind (their Glycaemic Index or Glycaemic Load), plus percentage fat and protein too, in this or that item of food. What can and can’t be eaten, how much and when, must be related to existing blood glucose, insulin or hypoglycaemic meds, and levels of activity… it is all a matter of balance.

Just at present I am mildly or moderately “hypo” (hypoglycaemic) every day. It isn’t a lot of fun, but things are carefully being fine-tuned and readjusted. I’m expecting to become better balanced soon. Hey ho, happy days. It is just the way it is for me.

When it comes to matters of faith, and I’m thinking of the Christian faith in particular, there also seems to be a need for some balance… a balance between proposition (belief) and relationship. It was said to me recently that doctrine builds fences. Yes, I suppose that it does - it divides one belief from a logically opposing one. In that sense it is necessary as I am being illogical to hold both at the same time for the same situation. One will be wrong while the other is right, or both may be wrong, but both cannot be right (not wholly so). However, not all fences matter that much, and some most definitely do. There is a far greater divide between someone who says that Jesus is the begotten Son of God (as it does in the Apostle’s Creed) and someone who says that Jesus is just a prophet, highly respected, but not the begotten Son of God (as is taught in Islam) than there is between two believers in the same proposition but simply worship Him (if they do) using a different form of liturgy to do so. So doctrine does build fences, but there are fences within fences, within fences, within fences… and some are far more climbable than others. I can straddle a few fences with reasonable comfort, but some definitely keep me in one place and not in another.

When it comes to relationship, then living according to the Way, or loving as we are commanded to, my faith cannot be all propositional and never put to the test, never put into practice, be just words without those deeds that confirm my commitment to them. There is a strong and direct connection between right belief and right everything else - attitude, behaviour, lifestyle - that shows forth in relationships, and in one relationship in particular, that between Jesus and me.

The balance I now find myself seeking is that between believing according to the Word (my knowledge and understanding) and living in obedience to the Word (to Jesus, the embodiment of God’s word) whereby He is not just my Saviour, but my Lord as well. This relationship to Jesus is critical, based on my increasing knowledge of that which I know to be true… as He is the Way, the Truth and the Life. (John 14:6)

It is one thing to know about Jesus, to know what are the fundamentals of the faith, to know the doctrine of this or that church, but it is something quite else to really know Jesus through being in a real living relationship with Him. Right belief takes you only so far, but without the relationship there is no balance at all. Instead, there is the very real danger that one day those terrible words may be heard: “Depart from me…I never knew you.” (Matthew 7) Those would be the most terrible words I could ever hear said, and I certainly pray that I won’t… nor you either!

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Last night I happened to mention that it was Fat Tuesday. “What’s that?” asked my son. I told him how, in the liturgical calendar, it was the day before Ash Wednesday which is the first day of Lent. He thought I was speaking a foreign language since all this was quite unknown to him. Yes, I know that I am educating him in these matters just a little late, but I went on to tell him that Fat Tuesday was so named as the day when you ate up all the rich food prior to the fasting period of Lent, the six weeks leading up to Good Friday and Easter.

Young son caught on fast. “Had I known that, I would have expected a chocolate cake for dinner!” he complained. Yes, I suppose he had a point. Or at least pancakes, the more traditional food on the day.

But when it came to the “giving up” part, the self-denial period of Lent, he was clearly going to take more convincing. Being a low income earner, he already considered he was doing a fair share of “giving up” and self-denial since he is now no longer living at home, taking instead that eye-opening course we call Reality 101.

Today is Ash Wednesday. It is so named for the ancient practice of pouring ashes on one’s body (and dressing in sackcloth) as an outer manifestation of inner repentance or mourning, and is mentioned several times in the Old Testament. What is probably the earliest occurrence is found at the very end of the book of Job. Job, having been rebuked by God, confesses, “Therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes” (Job 42:6). In the New Testament, Jesus alludes to the practice in Matthew 11:21: “Woe to you, Korazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! If the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes.”

Ash Wednesday, like the season of Lent, is never mentioned in Scripture and is not commanded by God. Christians are free to either observe or not observe it. I don’t remember ever doing so before, but this time I chose to observe it. Christians are invited to the altar to receive the imposition of ashes, prior to receiving Holy Communion. The Priest (or Pastor) applies ashes in the shape of the cross on the forehead of each, while speaking the words, “For dust you are and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3:19). Those were the words God spoke to Adam and Eve after they had eaten of the forbidden fruit and fallen into sin, indicating the most bitter fruit of their sin, namely death. In the context of the Ash Wednesday imposition of ashes, the words remind each penitent of their sinfulness and mortality, their need to repent, and to get right with God before it is too late. The cross reminds us of the good news that through Jesus Christ crucified there is forgiveness for all sins, and all guilt is removed from those truly penitent at heart.

One never knows when that moment that it is “too late” will come. Of course, some don’t care because they don’t believe it anyway. The warning is there, and Jesus spoke often of our eternal danger if not taking heed. All are called to take heed, but sadly, not as many listen. Which kind are you?

Three weeks ago we got some shocking news that left us stunned. The friend who had introduced my husband and me to each other, someone of our same age, was suddenly dead. She had been so full of life, and we thought too young to die. But of course, no one is too young because people die at all ages, some even before they are born. It is a fact of life, so why should we have been so shocked? Still, we had never expected it.

But penitence is not just about an eternal future, whether you believe we have one or not, but about loving He who created us, loving the One who sacrificed all for us, and knowing how sin in all its ugliness distorts and damages and hurts. We sin because we are sinners, but even as sinners, we can still loath what we do and want to turn away from it. Without the grace of God that is impossible, but once He has drawn you to Him, once you have tasted the goodness of knowing Him, known His compassion, been blessed by His riches, then sin becomes so totally abhorrent. Being free of it and clean again is worth all the self-denial in the world.

Lent is not so much about doing without chocolate cake, or giving up meat as some do, although that can certainly be an outward part of it. Lent is far more about self-denial through turning away from the sins we commit, all of them, not just those of greed and selfishness, and doing so in response to His great love for us. Without His grace I cannot do that, but He is generous in His graciousness and I owe Him my all. Lent, for me, is some more of my journey with Him.

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Those things that a man can not amend in himself or in others, he ought to suffer patiently, until God orders things otherwise.
Think that perhaps it is better so for thy trial and patience, without which all our good deeds are not much to be esteemed.
Thou oughtest to pray nevertheless, when thou hast such impediments, that God would grant thee help, and that thou mayest bear them kindly.

(Thomas à Kempis, 1380-1471)

I often dip into this little book for the gems of wisdom that it elucidates from an enlightened understanding of Biblical truth.

Knowing myself as I do, and of my friends around me, there is one thing that is outstandingly obvious… not one of us is perfect! Today’s liberal culture will have it said that most humans are basically good, but while we may think of ourselves and our friends mainly in that light, compared against a standard of absolute goodness (total perfection in righteousness, holiness, infallibility and all those other such superlatives) that idea begins to crumble fast. We may appear good in our own eyes, but how quickly we can find faults by barely scratching the surface. Would you not agree?

Even so, am I not “good enough” to be conisdered basically good? Well, I certainly try. At times I get called an angel, but many other times, I am a huge frustration to those who expect something else of me. And even when doing what others want of me, no way do I measure up very well against a standard of perfection, of absolute goodness. And what’s more… nor do others whom I know.

OK, that’s all old hat… humans have their faults. But how to cope with the frustration of that fact, the irritation others produce in us (or rather, our irritation in response to them - and yes, there is a difference there, a small and important matter of self responsibility!) and the resentment, anger and ultimately guilt that can result? Resentment and guilt are often opposite sides of the same coin, melded if genuine repentance does not intervene and render it spent. My guilt will have me become resentful just as surely as my resentment is a matter of which I am guilty. It doesn’t pay to entertain either for very long. These coins weigh heavily in my pocket.

And what does Thomas say about that? Read on…

2. If one that is once or twice warned will not listen, contend not with him: but commit all to God, that his will may be fulfilled, and his name honored in all his servants, who well knoweth how to turn evil to good.
Endeavor to be patient in bearing with the defects and infirmities of others, of what sort soever they be; for that thyself also has many failings which must be borne by others.
If thou canst not make thyself such a one as thou wouldest, how canst thou expect to have another fashioned to thy liking?
We would willingly have others perfect, and yet we amend not our own faults.

(ibid.)

OK Thomas, you’ve got me there. I cannot make myself be perfect so how can I possibly expect the same of others? I can’t! Not reasonably. Not realistically. Not by my doing, nor by their own. What point is it to be hassled by that fact? It must become an exercise in patience, and if I am a believer (which I am) then turning it over to God for His own intervention according to His will.

What next?

3. We will have others severely corrected, and will not be corrected ourselves.
The large liberty of others displeaseth us; and yet we will not have our own desires denied us.
We will have others kept under by strict laws; but in no way will ourselves be restrained.
And thus it appeareth, how seldom we weigh our neighbor in the same balance with ourselves.
If all men were perfect, what should we have to suffer of our neighbor for God?

(ibid.)

Am I really more harsh on others than I am on myself? To be honest, sometimes… yes. The more irritated I am, the more retribution I want exacted. Make them behave, God! Make them do as I want! And while you’re at it… fix it so I don’t feel so bad, that whatever inconvenience they have incurred is rectified, that I do not need to suffer them. Why should I suffer the faults of others? What a pain they are!

Back to Thomas for the final bit.

4. But now God hath thus ordered it, that we may learn to bear one another’s burdens; for no man is without fault; no man but hath his burden; no man sufficient of himself; no man wise enough of himself; but we ought to bear with one another, comfort one another, help, instruct, and admonish one another.
Occasions of adversity best discover how great virtue or strength each one hath.
For occasions do not make a man fail, but they reveal what he is.

(Thomas à Kempis, 1380-1471)

Yes, we have things to do for others. And what’s more… such a revelation is surely worth some pondering on.

I asked the Lord that I might grow In faith and love and every grace; Might more of his salvation know, And seek more earnestly his face. ‘Twas he who taught me thus to pray, And he, I trust, has answered prayer; But it has been in such a way As almost drove me to despair. I hoped that in some favoured hour At once he’d answer my request; And by his love’s constraining power, Subdue my sins and give me rest. Instead of this he made me feel The hidden evils of my heart, And let the angry powers of hell Assault my soul in every part. Yea more, with his own hand he seemed Intent to aggravate my woe; Crossed all the fair designs I’d schemed, Blasted my gourds and laid me low. “Lord, why is this,” I trembling cried; “Wilt Thou pursue thy worm to death?” “‘Tis in this way,” the Lord replied, “I answer prayer for grace and faith. These inward trials I employ From self and pride to set thee free And break thy schemes of earthly joy, That thou mayest seek thy all in me.” ~ John Newton (1725 – 1827)

The journey continues… In a previous entry I shared my experience of a most daring prayer, that being a verse of Psalm 139. Unlike those who have told me that God seldom seems to be listening to them, or if He does then He doesn’t respond, I was far from disappointed. The result of sincerely praying those words was incredible, a convincing confirmation that there was certainly Somebody listening and indeed taking notice. It is not that I needed any convincing, but I do have friends who claim not to have any responses to their prayerful entreaties, even to the point of losing faith and giving up altogether on God. Given my own experiences, this weighs heavily on me. I know Him personally to be faithful, generous and loving… but those friends are not experiencing Him as I do. To some of them God just isn’t real. He doesn’t come through for them, and that is simply that. But wait a mo… hear me out, I tell them. There is far more to prayer than the furnishing of a shopping list, with due dates, and maybe some bargaining added to the mix (a measure of one’s desperation, perhaps). That is not what it is about. No way! It is actually about a relationship. Perhaps the most widely known prayer is the one that begins “Our Father…” The words are those of Jesus who enraged and scandalised the religious authorities of the day by teaching His disciples that they may call God their father if they are followers of Himself. Being a child of God does not happen automatically by virtue of being human. This point eludes a great many people. It is a nice cosy sentiment… the universal brotherhood of man, the universal fatherhood of God. But that is free masonry, and universalism, not Biblical Christianity. It was His disciples whom Jesus was teaching to pray this way, and this is the context that often gets ignored. As is written in Scripture, God adopts as His children only those who truly believe in, and so follow, His eternal Son Jesus. This relationship with God is not to be assumed otherwise, and it is this relationship that underlies the promises God has agreed to honour. Whereas God does not limit Himself to answering prayer only within this relationship, it is certainly the properties of this special relationship that impinge greatly on the way we come to pray, the content and motivation of our prayer, and the responses that follow from God. It is within this relationship, properly ordered where God is Sovereign and my chief end is, in the words of the Westminster Shorter Catechism, to “glorify God and enjoy Him forever”, that I am to submit myself to the will of God and, by the working of His Holy Spirit, become increasingly like Christ. I know that sounds horribly religious, saying it like that, but the bottom line for all prayer is that this end is achieved. Anything that I ask for myself (and on behalf of others) must have that end in view, that our gracious God is honoured and glorified. Prayer of that kind, with that motive, is never unanswered. Included will be the provision of all my genuine needs, those of body, mind and soul. But here’s the crunch… should I hold on to anything that I know to be sin, or attempt to deny it as sin, and be unwilling to give that up, then that may become an obstacle to such an end. Then God will appear not to be listening. So with John Newton, author of the poem and hymn quoted here, I share the same request… and likewise find myself travelling a very similar path these days.

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Clicking back through my Journal posts on Christmas I came across one for which I can claim no credit as the author, but the message is as meaningful to me today as it was back then… even more so.

Some of the words caught my eye… “that which is good and precious in your life need never be lost, and what is evil and undesirable in your life can be changed.”

This was being said about Christmas, and the message of Christmas. It had to do with the real reason for our celebrating, the hushed reason that offends secular ears and embarrasses those who believe their Christian friends fuss too much over the birth of some baby way back then. It had to do with change…

Now here’s a question for you. What would you, when being very honest with yourself, like to change in your life? For instance, do you have any bad habits?

Wherever people say about their bad habits, “That’s just the way I am, you’ll have to get used to it,” the message of Christmas has been rejected. I’ve also heard them say “God made me that way” as though God is then to blame, if any blame is warranted, and not oneself.

Read on (if you dare)…

Before anyone says, “Oh, I’ve tried religion and it didn’t help,” let me ask this: How many of you have ever fasted for three days? Two days? One day? Have you taken the word of God, asked for a vacation day, gone away by yourself Friday through Sunday and saturated your mind with holiness and poured out your soul in longing to the Lord for change? Have you gathered around yourself two or three spiritual brothers or sisters, shared with them the habit you want to break, sought their daily earnest prayer and stood yourself accountable to them? If not, then don’t say religion doesn’t work.

Moses fasted forty days, Elijah fasted forty days, Jesus fasted forty days and spent whole nights in prayer. When was the last time you wanted any change in your life bad enough to spend one whole day in prayer and fasting seeking it from the Lord, not to mention three days like Paul (Acts 9:9) or three weeks like Daniel (Daniel 10:2,3), or forty days like Moses?

The writer of those words is John Piper, and he goes on to say…

The problem with most of us is not that the Christmas message is powerless, but that we don’t really want to be changed. “You will seek me and find me (says the Lord, in Jeremiah 29:13) when you seek me with all your heart.” When you want with all your heart to rid yourself of what is evil and undesirable, God will give you the Christmas gift of change.

The message of Christmas is that what is evil and undesirable in your life can be changed. A critical spirit can be changed. Alcoholism can be changed. Irritability can be changed. Harshness and ingratitude can be changed. Laziness and overeating and masturbation and nagging can be changed. The habits of not tithing and excessive T.V. watching and gambling can be changed. The fear of talking to others and of having guests over to your house can be changed. The lack of appreciation for great music and great books can be changed. Indifference to beauty can be changed. And your disposition to remind somebody else to take this sermon to heart can be changed. Christ Jesus came into the world to save us from fatalism. He came to stop people from saying, “That’s just the way I am.”

Ouch! John Piper certainly goes for the jugular when he describes some of those bad habits most of us would rather not admit to, or ‘fess up. Sure, I can pick out those that aren’t mine, just as you can too, but I have no reason to feel righteous as the sheer mention of some has me bouncing off the springboard, remembering others that will stick to me. I don’t really like that, so what shall I do? Then he goes on…

By the power of Christ you can change.
“The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into to the world to save you from bondage to sin.” We are not by nature beautiful people. But we have an incomparably beautiful Savior who came into the world to change us into his likeness (Romans 8:29).

OK Pastor John, just when I thought I was on vacation, I see I have far more of the journey to go. It never lets up, or if it does, not for too long. Off I go…

Look for The Message of Christmas under the heading “Pages” on the left-hand navigational side-bar to read more.

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I’m not really much of a gardener and weeds do rather get away on me. But the Roses are prolific, the Geraniums sure know how to climb, and the Bourganvilia might have managed better had they not been so smothered until just the other week. Luckily the Marigolds, Snapdragons, and other little pretties (can’t remember their names) seem to like it where they found themselves, and the Daisies and Daphne are faithful every year anyway. Just as well. As much as I love them all, I’m not a very good mother to them. I just don’t have green thumbs.

Would it help if I was to make a New Year’s Resolution? Take better care of my flowers! I doubt it. My experience of New Year Resolutions is that they usually work in reverse. They seem to trigger the Oppositional Switch in my personality, and that guarrantees certain failure.

What I do find works for me, once I learnt to become organized some time ago, is a list of goals… or tasks. Things to do. Verbs. Things to achieve. Nouns. Going to the extent of adding “due dates” made it too much like school assignments, so I stopped before getting that far. Too easy to give myself extensions for insufficient reasons. But keeping lists and checking off items gave a sense of accomplishment, and made even more sense when I broke down those goals, and the tasks that led to them, into sub-tasks or little steps on the way. They could get checked off as well, and my life would become a glowing record of tiny accomplishments. Just like school these days where nobody fails anymore… just simply “not achieved” er, yet. How postmodern and up with the Age!

So… it is early New Year’s Day, and I have some goals to write down. I have been thinking of them all December (while lying awake with the birdsong) and my keyboard is about to learn of them. No, I’m not making all of them public. Most of them are just for my eyes only… and He who knows every thought before I have even come up with it. But there is an all-encompassing and really massively huge one (well, several) that I can let you know. See if you can match this - be challenged! - for a Really Big Goal…

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.
~ Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another.
~ Forgive as the Lord forgave you.
~ And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.
~ Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace.
~ And be thankful.
~ Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God.
~ And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

(Colossians 3:12-17, NIV)

My favourite NZ native tree… the Pohutukawa, metsiderosis excelsa, is known as the New Zealand Christmas Tree. This is exactly the time of year that it comes into blossom, and together with its supposedly Christmas colours of red and green, it is not surprising that it is given that name. I have them growing around my home. This one here is still quite a baby, standing barely thrice my height but expected to reach a good 20 metres or more… provided the local city council doesn’t send their tree-hating so-called “gardeners” out to lop it about!

You could be forgiven for thinking that Judah slept right through this Christmas, there being no other posts to my Journal this month except for the one on the first, but that is not so. I was awake alright!

The days here have been long ones, and busy ones too. The dawn chorus is already going strong by first light, around 5.00 am, with several resident Tuis leading the choir. This lovely native bird, Prosthemadera Novæ Zealandiæ, has reinhabited suburbia now that the culling of opossums, the introduced Aussie pest, has given them back their territories. Much of their song is outside the range of human hearing, but we are given recitals of much chortling, chuckling, warblings, sneezes, and melodious motets that go on endlessly until late at night when the Moreporks, our native owl, takes over to repeat its name through until sunrise.

Living with native bush on my property, there is little chance of remaining asleep throughout summer! But Christmas did come at a rush and was over almost before I could say Hallelujah.

With a few Vicarly words of encouragement, I managed to get myself to the Midnight Communion Service on Christmas Eve, my first for a best forgotten number of years. I’m so glad that I did. It was a wonderful occasion, one that I wont miss again, I promised myself. My first for ages…

In these politically correct days where the words “reason for the season” are barely whispered so as not to give offence (no mind the offence given our Creator!) it takes some courage, or a Christian conviction, to look behind the secular holiday traditions (why red and green for Christmas, do you suppose?) and realize that Jesus was not God’s Plan B for mischievous humans. Our mischief was predicted long before we even came into being, long before the beginning of time. Jesus was born to be killed, made incarnate to redeem, and that was Plan A right from the start.

Sounds engineered, doesn’t it? I don’t personally think so… more like a wise, omniscient Being saw way into the future and arranged His ducks in a row, so to speak. Not just omniscient either, but One who cared enough about His creatures to work out a way whereby love redeems creation. All this can take a bit to get one’s head around, but that is really what Christmas is all about. Lose the occasion under the red and green, silver and gold, sparkles and tinsel, avarice, gluttony, hate, anger and family violence, but it is still there regardless… the Saviour who was born in humble circumstances, was mocked and tortured for our transgressions, but loved us enough to forgive us, sanctify and glorify us with Himself… if only we care enough to follow Him to the foot of the cross, to kneel at the throne of God.

Just recently I read in the newspaper of an incident that happened between a father and son in the city of Detroit, Michigan.

Because of the appalling nature of it, this news item took me deep into the horror of our human condition and haunted me for the rest of that day… and beyond. How could people behave that way? And yet, they do. How could a father do that to his son? And yet, he did.

That teenager’s last moments must have been everything that is the worst one can imagine… and for those who are left, for them as well. And for me, the other side of the world, a story that I really did not want to read. But it was News, and so it was there in my newspaper, there for me and all others to experience some of the appalling nature of human crime and sin.

Yesterday there was another account of a father and son, this time in my own country. The father also killed the son. For some reason we all had to be told about it. What reason?

It is not that I don’t know these things happen. I know it all too well. As time goes on I am finding myself increasingly more affected by this kind of news, by the sad and terrible things that happen in our world, by the terrible and disgraceful things that people will do to each other. We all end up suffering by being some part of it… having it happen to us directly, or else indirectly by the entrance of it into conscious awareness. For me personally, being made aware has me feeling some measure of responsibility for that which I know, as though I should do whatever I can to stop it from happening.

It is very easy to feel quite helpless in the face of this avalanche of evil, overwhelmed by the sheer amount, intensity and hellishness of it all. It is very easy to reach burn-out before the first hour of morning is up. It is very easy to simply switch off, saying that it is nothing to do with me, and nothing I can do to make it stop. It is very easy not to care anymore. Caring is costly. It takes time, empathy, generosity and faith… faith in myself that what I do counts, and faith in the other that they can respond. Caring will share in the suffering, feel the pain and respond to it, but also feel the joy of suffering relieved.

Is it good that we have these troubling images, photos or verbal accounts of terrible things, thrust at us so often uninvited? Should we avoid them to protect ourselves in some way, thus be safely cacooned away from the reality of others who suffer? Should we be party to their proliferation, and for what purpose? Should there be limits on how much, the nature of their portrayal, and the intensity of assault on awareness. All these questions have played themselves out in my mind over the past few days, and I am still none the wiser for their doing so. Part of me wants to run away from the evil deeds of this world, and part of me knows that I am here to live in it, doing whatever I can to improve it for others… including myself.

Also in our newspaper recently was the obituary of the last Kiwi survivor of the Nazi concentration camps. He had been 14 years old when incarcerated and, lying about his age, was assigned to manual labour thus avoided the gas chamber which was the fate of other children. However, he was operated on by the infamous Dr Josef Mengele and suffered enormous deprivations and acts of barbarous cruelty. At the end of the war he gave evidence at Nuremberg, then immigrated to New Zealand and spent the rest of his life devoted to telling others of the vile atrocities which took place… publicizing and informing the rest of us concerning the Holocaust such that we had firsthand accounts, that we would be aware, that such things should never ever happen again. This tireless witness earned him a Queen’s Service medal for community services in the 2006 Queen’s Birthday honours.

These terrible things thrust into our conscious awareness may not be comfortable or pleasant, but may bring about good in alerting us to what must be avoided in future at all costs… if it will work out that way. But they increase our suffering too, haunted as I am by that terrible deed that took place in Detroit. The publishing of some events can lead others into sin… the temptation to dally with evil, inflaming desires, indulging the senses, committing the acts. I frequently wonder how men deal with those junk mail catelogues of women’s clothes featuring a parade of scantily clad young women with such lovely bodies. How often do those images cause someone to stumble (fall into sin) yet are distributed so freely by marketing companies? We live in a world of temptations, of troubling images, and terrible deeds. I would love not to know about them, but yet I do… and it is important that I do. How can I help stop it if I don’t know it is happening?

As a Christian I do have a responsibility to do what I can to obstruct the proliferation of evil, and not to give myself up to it either. I will avoid promoting it, don’t wish to be assailed by it, but cannot turn my back on it either. It exists, and I must deal with that fact. When it barges into my consciousness, I will counter it with prayer to the One in whom I have faith to move mountains, and in my own mind resort to the antidote offered by Paul, himself in prison at the time, to the church in Philippi almost 2,000 years ago. The antidote follows inscribed on the beautiful image of my beloved Southern Alps here below. Try it for yourselves, and praise Him, our Creator, in doing so.

While becoming absorbed in Psalm 139 and allowing those ideas to lead and guide my current journey, its words becoming like the winding roads on a map of the countryside through which one is travelling, I turned some pages and found myself “by chance” in the Song of Songs. This is one amazing book. Here the lover woos his beloved and the dialogue traces their tender and intimate relationship through to its culmination in total self-giving and joy.

Although I write “by chance” I don’t really think it was accidental at all. There is more than a mere hint of purpose in this next discovery of the kind of love we encounter when we seek and find Him, the true lover of our souls.

It is not one kind of love, in accordance with our human categories, but all kinds as we perceive and define them… eros (desire), storge (affection), philia (friendship), and agape (charity) …which come together, woven in perfect combination, to express the completeness of divine love where nothing is held back. It is total, perfect, whole and immeasurable.

The symbolism may be a little difficult to comprehend without keeping in mind that the analogies are figurative rather than literal; that they are not intended primarily to be visual, but to correspond instead to quality and value. How otherwise could a woman be compared to a horse in Pharoah’s court and the comparison not be derogatory in intent… unless it is taken to mean that she is just the very best of her kind? Or a part of her body likened to two fawns, twins of a gazelle, if not suggesting a delightfully engaging youthfulness rather than the species’ own looks?

Thus knowing that, I read with my intuition uppermost, freely associating but knowingly so, and so tasting and savouring the sensuous references to nature and fruitfulness. There to be known was the joyful abundance where satiation and fulfilment are first dreamt then attained, where hope becomes reality, longing becomes ecstacy, and where mutual desire is finally consummated. Such was evocative of God’s great love for Israel, Christ’s love for His church, His love for each soul, the lover embracing His beloved, and the beloved responding in kind. There I found the same experience of being drawn to Him as before… that same yearning for absolutely everything to be seen and known, no holding back, but for Him to hold me, see and know me, to breathe into me those tender words of the lover: I love you.

It was no accident that I found myself in the Song of Songs after some time in Psalm 139, the winding roads of the map having taken me there as surely the Shepherd leads His sheep from one pasture to another. Accidents, like co-incidents, don’t happen on these spiritual journeys where our Father is sovereign, all our days known, and every hair on our heads counted. He searches and knows us, and His beloved are loved intimately, profoundly, and way beyond measure.

“I am my lover’s and my lover is mine” (Song of Songs 6:3)

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Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. (Psalm 139:23,24)

It is not a good idea to ask God to do something if you do not really mean it… but a very good idea to ask if you do. I’ve listened to a number of people tell me that God doesn’t answer prayer. He has not responded in the way, or the time, that they have expected of Him. It is awfully human to decide from such an experience that God just isn’t listening, doesn’t particularly care, or maybe doesn’t even exist. We have very high expectations of Him, especially as He is known to be all powerful and so gracious, merciful and loving… and therefore it is easy to get impatient and disillusioned, those of us with little faith and knowledge of His ways. There is much to be said about that… another time. However, there is one prayer that takes real courage to pray. This is a very daring prayer that will take you on a journey, and it may be through some very rough terrain, stormy weather, and scenery not of your choosing. Pray it with caution, but with sincerity and a willingness to listen, and you’ll certainly not be disappointed. It comes from Psalm 139… the last two verses. A little while ago there was something niggling at my conscience, something to which I really did not wish to pay attention. It just lay there at the bottom of my mind, sending up the occasional little burst of bubbles which broke upon the surface to disturb the pleasant calm. Then one day, having prayed that daring prayer, I knew I had to do it… get up the courage and risk sharing their source with someone, another Christian who could be trusted with such confidences. The result was incredible, and not unlike an intensive spring-clean which went deep into my soul. It was painful… deeply distressing, and it didn’t stop there.

The journey was indeed rough. It was emotional. It was spiritual. It meant stopping something and committing to a different course of action. It meant being sorry, and while my friend (an Anglican priest as it happened) spoke so gently, kindly and caringly without condemnation, it was myself who condemned me. God forgives generously all those who are truly sorry and will turn to go His way instead of their own. There was no doubt in my mind about that, but I had not realized how much our wrongdoing causes Him pain as well. Of course… He died on the cross, crucified for our transgressions, the propitiation for our sin. His suffering was far greater than anything we have suffered or ever will. As the spring-cleaning proceeded, I became aware of other things in need of repentance, but as time went on, the process did come to feel less ruthless and terrible.

But isn’t this all a bit too personal to post? Why? The reality is that we are all sinners, every one of us, our wills biased naturally towards unrighteousness. Only in genuine repentance will we find God’s forgiveness. And in finding it, having turned back to Him, there is the incredibly loving experience of restoration that He brings about. It is certainly painful, quite terribly so, to let oneself hear what God finds when He looks into one’s heart… but equally a real joy to have His hand touch, forgive, heal and bless in return. It is really worth facing the mop and bucket for such a restorative blessing from Him.

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So often the wisdom of this world is folly to God (1 Corinthians 3:19) and worldly folly is wise indeed, and sharing one’s spiritual journey may help encourage others “out there” whom I have never met. With that in mind, I will continue to tell of my journey…

My time spent in England included visits to numerous ancient cathedrals. We arrived at one of them just as a Holy Communion service was beginning. Troubled by all the difficulties in the Anglican communion, plus some other less worthy reasons, I had resisted attending any church and the Lord’s Supper. However, as a matter of obedience, this was already weighing quite heavily on me. Our Lord had said “Do this…” and I was not. So in Salisbury Cathedral, for the first time in 34 years, I did. The presence of God in those moments was overwhelming - a huge holy presence that filled the whole space around me, myself right there in the midst where even the walls seemed to have soaked in all the prayers of the ages and were too sacred to touch. Years of resistance had fallen away and I was “back in the fold” once again.

There was no staying away after that. Back home again, and feeling very new to it all, I attended a midweek Communion service at my local Anglican parish church. Had I known what was going to happen, my courage might well have left me long before I got there. The congregation was few in number, the presiding priest spoke a short and prophetic sermon, and those words were my utter undoing. At the mention of those old English cathedrals, such God-filled holy places that even the walls seemed to have soaked up the prayers… I was suddenly awash with tears. This was embarrassing. I wanted desperately to become invisible, to disappear into the back wall, to be anywhere else instead. It wasn’t to be. What a homecoming!

I have been very fortunate the past couple or so years, while not attending church at all, to have an “online vicar” - Vic, my friend, Anglican priest, pastor, and Christian brother. While in England we met in person too. During my teenage years I had a charismatic experience which I “shelved” when I walked away from my faith, and which I left untouched until very recently. Since returning home, I knew all of my life needed to be brought into the light which meant revisiting that experience from way back. Talking with Vic (so easy to do so on Skype!) whose own spiritual gifting, discernment and counsel, plus some wonderful prayers, finally made spiritual sense of that early experience for me. The gifts I received back then have been restored and now have a proper place in my life. They are certainly real, and I am experiencing a deep-seated joy, and peace, and making of peace with people where there has been lack of love in the past. As Vic prayed there was a further experience for me of prophetic words, ones deeply comforting and transforming. These are very rich experiences of the Holy Spirit. They leave me feeling very much humbled, thoughtful, prayerful, and incredibly touched by how profound is such an experience of Him. God is so good, and His grace is astounding. Once having tasted the reality of the living God, there truly is no other way to live.

I have a new vicar as well, the one where I have found a place to worship, that being my local Anglican church. Archdeacon Peter, thank you for being so welcoming, encouraging and accepting of me, a stray sheep who wandered in from being outside for far too long. I don’t know exactly where this earthly life is heading for me, but I am certain of something… a heartfelt gratitude for all my Christian friends. You are the church, the body of Christ. I don’t know where I’d be if it was not for you all.

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Way out in the countryside, we both had to laugh. This icon of British communications stood alone, passed by in an age of individual ownership of modern technology, almost an anachronism with noone around. Was it left behind by mistake? Was it even still connected to anything? We didn’t need to try it out, having two little ones of our own in our pockets.

But yay, I’m safely back, and what an adventure it was!

Four flights of 6 hours, 13 hours, 3 hours and 1 hour, with the rest of 36 hours waiting at airports, did make for an exhausting return. We were greeted by the open resentment of neglected household appliances… microwave oven display turning purple, washing machine emptying all its water out on the floor, car battery playing dead, and somewhere bleeding out oil. Being given a rest, did they really think I should have taken them away on vacation as well? Ungrateful lot, they sure are. If so, young son was certainly of like mind with his thoughtful, well reasoned and entirely logical explanation… we obviously should have taken him too!

It’s taking a while to get back to writing. Some of my friends are prodding me now - yes, waving at you gentle prodders! - and I will be back into it soon.

John Denver’s song title makes an apt title for this Journal entry too, probably my last one until mid-August when I return, also on a jet plane - an Emirates Airbus, the giant A380. But unlike the song lyrics, my bags are not yet packed, nor am I ready to go, and with a return ticket I actually do know when I’ll be back again… er, trusting all goes according to plan.

I know I have flown on many flights, and over great distances, but flying is really not something I look forward to overly much. However, when you live down the very bottom of the planet (”bottom” according to my Northern Hemisphere friends, that is!) then, if you want to go anywhere much, there are not too many options.

I’m told that the odds of myself coming to grief are far more likely on the roads, in a car accident back home, than in any aircraft incident. Statistics are supposed to be comforting here, but two airbuses have recently crashed and nobody on board survived the experience. Oh-oh, I really should not be thinking of that, should I? And they were not the giant A380.

One of the things about flying is that you give up control concerning your life, as you do when having a general anaesthetic, to others plus technology. Sitting in an aircraft 35,000 ft above the Pacific Ocean, I have relinquished control over my life to the people and computers that make sure the sophisticated winged metal tube enclosing me is doing what it is supposed to be doing, and the materials and workmanship relating to that metal tube and all its necessary parts likewise. I have to trust that all will be well, or I’d just not go.

When it comes to trust, I am aware that trust is not just a simple blanket operation that applies to everything for everything - or it should not be in a prudent intelligent being. For instance, I trust my dentist to repair my tooth, but not necessarily to lay a spanner on my car. Likewise, I don’t trust a mechanic to fix my tooth. I do trust both to cause some pain in my wallet, though!

For a Christian there is more to the story than just trusting people and technology. If you believe that God is the creator of all, and that He is Sovereign over His creation as well, then there is sure comfort in knowing that there are no “maverick molecules” - nothing that happens outside His Will for each of us. Everything to do with each of us remains in His hands, so to speak. That does not necessarily mean that any flight I take wont end in disaster, or that He has decreed it to happen if it does (as He has decreed His moral law) except in the sense that He has determined gravity exists, a pull exerted towards Earth’s centre, and that all kinds of unpalatable consequences do occur due to the fallen nature of this world. However, it does mean that He has it all under His control even though people and technology will fail and natural harm will come of that. The only grief that I come to will be what He has allowed to happen, He whose wisdom and love is far greater than I can ever humanly estimate. I cannot even begin to fathom what good things He has in store for me eternally. If I judge His wisdom and love by my own limited human wisdom, I am simply going to come unstuck. So will you too if you say “because this awful thing happened, God did not care” or “God is not in control after all”. You will be stuck in your own limited human perspective, seeing the horizon from the beach and saying there are no ships out there, rather than standing on top of the cliff behind you and seeing the shipping way out to sea.

Because I am human, I naturally want to have a safe trip. I have a son whom I’m leaving behind for the duration, and other family and friends. I pray for a safe journey, and for their safety back home. But I am aware that the unexpected can happen, that plans don’t always work out, that things can change in less than a blink of the eye. I pray and trust that God will keep us all safe from harm, but should harm happen anyway (because that is the nature of this fallen world) then I do know that it did not happen without God being there, but within His wise and loving purpose for us all. Disbelief will give you more pain than necessary, all that is not of faith being sin, and our tiny finite minds are simply not up to the task of judging the wisdom, love and mercy of God.

Dubai and London, here we come! God bless you all, readers of Judah’s Journal, and I plan to be back posting again later in August.

Evil prevails when good people do nothing.

Brigette Gabriel, a Lebanese Christian now living in the USA, delivered an important speech at the Intelligence Summit in Washington DC, back in February, 2006.

Now Ms Gabriel has written an open letter in response to the speech recently given by President Obama in Cairo, Egypt, wherein she makes some critically important points, all of them based on objective historical evidences and sound knowledge and experience of Islam.

This is an important letter to read. You will find a copy of her letter added here on Judah’s Journal. Scroll down to the first “Newsflash” heading.

Hat tip: Mark Alexander

Back in December 1989, a tiny kitten, born no more than 6 weeks earlier, was abandoned in the bush and left to die. She was found a day or two later in a pitiful state and taken to a shelter for abandoned animals. A few weeks later a family, the parents and a 2-year-old little boy, went to that shelter to seek a kitten to add to their family. They were told about Puss, and there was “just something” about her that said she was meant to be theirs. We were that family, and we took her home where she became a greatly loved and treasured member of our family.

The most outstanding thing about Puss was her very sweet and gentle nature, and the affection she had for her three humans. She owned us; we were hers. Far from being stand-offish, as many cats are, this one was not - or rather, not with us. She would reach out with her paw to touch gently, just to say she would like our attention. The next most outstanding thing was that Puss never bit or scratched anyone. On a couple of occasions she did cuff her 2-year-old playmate with a paw when he clearly deserved it, just as though he might have been one of her own kittens had she been allowed to have babies, but never with her claws out. If he really got too much for her, she simply left the scene. How much she had to teach humans!

Puss had her hilarious moments, and she gave us much entertainment and laughter. A couple of stories can be found here.

Puss died last night. She was 19½ years old, a member of our family for a substantial length of time. On Wednesday afternoon she was fine. By late Wednesday evening we noticed her right eye was swollen, weeping, and looking rather ghastly. In fact it looked as though it was protruding and not in alignment. We took her to the vet first thing on Thursday morning and she was admitted to hospital and given IV pain relief pending a general anaesthetic for investigative procedures. The most likely diagnosis at her advanced age was a brain tumour behind the eye. On Friday a decision had to be made. Puss would not recover and she was suffering. It would be merciful to “let her go”.

How distressing it is to say these goodbyes! I cradled her in my arms as the vet gave her some sedation to make her a little groggy, telling us that she would be aware I was holding her and that we were there. When I gave the nod he injected the overdose of phenobarbitone. I felt her little body go limp, then the last little twitch, and after a minute the vet listened to her heart and told us she had gone. We are left with that awful aching emptiness now, and the intermittent waves of grief. I had not anticipated that the loss of a pet would have affected me so much, as it has for each of her three humans. Puss leaves quite a hole for all of us. She just isn’t there when you expect her to be, and I catch myself taking her into account when there is no longer the need to do so.

Some of my friends like the story of Rainbow Bridge, said to be the place where pets go after death to wait and greet their owners when their own time has come. I have wrtten about Rainbow Bridge, from a Christian perspective and in relation to revealed truth, elsewhere on Judah’s Journal. I wrote back then that I don’t know if this story is true or not. I have no way of knowing for certain. It is a kind sentiment, and it presents an image not unlike one that is commonly held of Heaven - a place where all is well. There is an assumption that such a place exists for animals, and an assumption that the animals we love will indeed go there. But I am not so sure of the level of comfort I would personally derive from a story that came from “author unknown” and must be regarded as fantasy unless we can find some truth to support its claim to be otherwise.

Right now, having just loss our beloved family pet, I can say that I am not particularly comforted by this story, but what does mean far more to me is the message from a Christian friend, DKC, the gracious host of this website. What he told me was this: One thing I know, God loves us and He is compassionate. And he loves and cares for all His creatures. Whatever the reality is, it will be better than anything we could imagine ourselves. And we can imagine some pretty good things.

“But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.”

“Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, Unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen.”

Those two verses are 1 Corinthians 2:9 and Ephesians 3:20,21 respectively.

Given a story from human imagination, and revealed truth from a compassionate and loving God whose love for us is greater than we can ever imagine, I think I know which I believe more than the other, and which is therefore of real comfort and promise. Thank you, DKC, for reminding me of those verses. I do not know if Rainbow Bridge exists, but I most certainly know that those verses are worthy of leaning upon when such a loss is so keenly felt.

It seems like only yesterday! It was summer… those long hot carefree days that, in my childhood fantasy, were destined to last an eternity. We scrambled all over this large dome of rock, knowing every pothole, every safe hollow in which to place a foot and a hand. We would watch from above as the tide turned and the water rushed into the large caverns below, rush out again to regroup and come back, each time pushing in a little further, hitting the rock to throw up fountains of spray, dousing our eagerly peering faces. We would laugh at each other, taste the salt on our lips and brush tangles of wet hair out of our eyes. Summer days were meant to last forever… just as the sea and the salt and the sand and the sun would surely do so as well.

Cave Rock, Sumner Beach, Christchurch, New Zealand. This watercolour sketch was painted by artist, Peter G. Leitch. There is no copyright mentioned on the reproduction greeting cards that remind me of those days long ago. I hope if Peter should see his handiwork here that he will know it is only because I treasure it enough to draw attention to it, and similarly to the one below of Shag Rock, marking the other end of the sandy expanse where I played my eternal childhood summer days.

Shag Rock, Sumner Beach, Christchurch, New Zealand. There we waded sandal-footed in rock ponds, squatting in them getting our bottoms wet, searching for crabs and starfish, or picking out fascinating shells, the discarded little houses of various other sea creatures. The shags would perch high upon the rock and watch, no doubt hoping we would turn over and leave for them some tasty titbit for their tea.

Time moves on. Now another generation of children assume our places, engage our activities, roll over the countless endless days of the calendar as I and my brothers give them up to fond memories. The sea rolls in and out of those caverns under the dome just as before. The rock pools fill and empty, and fill up again, just as before. The shags and gulls are still perching there - or their descendants are - and waiting patiently for the offering of another snack.

Does anything last eternity? Even memories fade, presumably one day to be extinguished by that Grim Reaper who appears scythe in hand as our final heartbeat beats and in doing so has gone. Time moves on without us. And we move on into timelessness, into the realms of eternity.

Any frequent visitor here could rightly predict my own belief about what exists beyond, one that was long ago revealed to us. There is indeed an eternity and how we live our lives here really does matter, and matters greatly. No moments are truly lost, no words or thoughts or deeds. We meet with them again, and they will sift and measure us against our Creator’s yardstick. Would you seek justice? None of us will receive injustice at His hand, but think carefully if it is justice that you seek. As idyllic as those childhood memories pose themselves, even as supposedly “innocent” children playing on the sand, laughing at the surf and at the shags, we must surely know deep within us that our souls were not truly free at all, not even in entertaining our very best desires. Who wanted the best view, the best foothold, the longest turn, the most shells, the best shell, the only crab, the biggest starfish, the dry towel, the unbroken bucket, the shared spade, and not to go home just yet when we should? Those who know that they were never ever truly innocent, who know they have always had a natural inclination toward self gratification and promotion at the expense of others… they will not be so keen on justice when eventually their eternity comes face-to-face with them. No matter my own very best memories such as these of Sumner Beach, rather than justice it will be mercy that I seek, and there is only one Redeemer given us in whom that will be found.

After 4 years of the same, it was surely time for Judah’s Journal to suffer a little redecorating. Those who have visited before, and remembered anything about what they saw, may notice a new header photo, new clickable buttons, and a new appearance to many of the other pages of Judah’s Site.

The Seaward Kaikouras are the eastern aspect of the Southern Alps where they extend down to the rocky coast line in the vicinity of a little fishing village known as Kaikoura. It is very much on the tourist route, a place where folk love to dine on freshly caught crayfish and go out in boats, or up in light aircraft, for a spot of whale watching. It is a very scenic part of the country, and a favourite place of mine. I love the Southern Alps, the mountainous backbone of the South Island of New Zealand. As a South Islander, I like to claim those majestic Alps as my own. Of course they are not… but I do feel as though both they and I belong to each other in some fundamental way. The photo which forms the header for Judah’s Journal, and also for Judah’s Site and each of the website pages, is one that I took recently of those same mountains. I am no climber, but they certainly are great to admire from where I stood with my camera.

Check out the other pages here, especially Judah’s Crafts, by using the clickable buttons at the very bottom of this Judah’s Journal page. Some redecorating has already taken place, but there is still more to come yet.

I was recently involved in a discussion concerning Freemasons after visiting a museum featuring that international organization, also widely known as “The Lodge”. It was just a little museum in a small town west of Nelson, in the South Island of New Zealand. All secrets were to be revealed to those prepared to visit and see for themselves what worthy things these people were about. This museum was especially interesting to me as I had also been reading a forum discussion on this very same topic on the UK based Anglican Mainstream website, and had done a little research for myself. Check it out here if you are interested.

Yes, as the museum testified, the Freemasons did look to be admirable types, men prepared to step up and meet human need where they saw it existed, and fend for each other against all kinds of assaults on human dignity. They were the brotherhood of man, readily acknowledging each other as such through various conventions devised by their organization. A number of well known members were featured in this museum, and the good works they had done were exposed to advertise the worthiness of the cause.

A great number of Christian denominations, Protestant, Roman Catholic, and Orthodox, have all declared membership to Freemasonry as incompatible with the Christian faith. Why is that so? What are the concerns? The Anglican forum thread to which I have linked already outlines many of the reasons, and much of the debate.

One big issue is the identity of “The Great Architect of the Universe” and that this “creator being” can be anything you like, and that each member chooses who it is for himself, and all members will accept the relative validity of that choice the individual has made. But this is cultural relativity that denies Christian truth, and it is the promotion of universalism, a position that is most definitely unChristian. Freemasons propose that a generic being is the architect of the universe. Christians absolutely do not believe the architect of the universe is a generic being. No way! He has a name - YHWH. And His name is holy. There is none other, and we are absolutely not to do or say anything to suggest that there is. That is denying our own God for Who He IS. To become a member of an organizarion that does so is to bear false witness by association. We are to be holy - that is, separate - for He is holy.

Who is the Boss, do you think? Who is the Supreme Being, the one Creator God who is Sovereign of all? Christians take note of whom it is recorded in Isaiah 46…

3. “Listen to me, O house of Jacob, all you who remain of the house of Israel, you whom I have upheld since you were conceived, and have carried since your birth.
4. Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you.
I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.
5. “To whom will you compare me or count me equal?
To whom will you liken me that we may be compared?
6. Some pour out gold from their bags and weigh out silver on the scales;
they hire a goldsmith to make it into a god, and they bow down and worship it.
7. They lift it to their shoulders and carry it; they set it up in its place, and there it stands. From that spot it cannot move. Though one cries out to it, it does not answer; it cannot save him from his troubles.
8. “Remember this, fix it in mind, take it to heart, you rebels.
9. Remember the former things, those of long ago;
I am God, and there is no other;
I am God, and there is none like me.
10. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say: My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.
11. From the east I summon a bird of prey; from a far-off land, a man to fulfill my purpose. What I have said, that will I bring about; what I have planned, that will I do.
12. Listen to me, you stubborn-hearted, you who are far from righteousness.
13. I am bringing my righteousness near, it is not far away; and my salvation will not be delayed. I will grant salvation to Zion, my splendour to Israel.

So, for a Christian to belong to an organization which gives the gods of other religions the right to assume the place of our Sovereign Creator God, that Christian defies the teaching of his own faith, and the teaching of God Himself. Here is a major element of incompatibility.

The conversation I had most recently also put it very well, but from a very different position. There was contempt shown for the churches who objected to the conventions of Freemasonry. These were all good people, I was told. Good by human standards, of course. These were people who did good things and got along peaceably with each other. Good things by human standards, of course. The churches deserved to lose membership if this was their stance! Such narrow-minded bigotry they exhibited! No wonder there are so few in the pews these days!

Oh oy, oy, oy! Just who are we to say which god is to sit on the Throne? Is it for us to be telling our Creator that He must share, and that the Freemasons are right to allow everyone’s god to take that place? Just who is the Sovereign Lord, and just who are we to pick and choose among the others who are not? The true church does not have membership of those who do not believe in Him, so they are not losing anyone other than those who never belonged in the first place. The “brotherhood” of Freemasonry is not that of the children of God who belong to a spiritual brotherhood all of their own, the one with God as Father, and Jesus as Lord and Saviour. We need to be very certain just who He is, the One who created all things, and Who is to be worshipped and glorified.

Isaiah 46:9 I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me.

The photo above is three photos, taken by myself early one morning this week, and merged manually in Photoshop by myself to show a panoramic view of the eastern coast of New Zealand’s South Island, at the little fishing town of Kaikoura. This is a beautiful part of my country, and a favourite place of mine. All glory to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, and Who is the Creator and Sovereign of all.

Well, I would never have thought it! I’ve been keeping this up for four years now and the ink in my pen has not run dry… or not quite, not yet. Since this time last year, there have been added a further 40 posts and 72 comments. Not great in numbers by any means, but it has been estimated that there are more than 200 million former bloggers (and probably a great many more by the minute) who have ceased posting to their online diaries after the initial novelty had worn off. I’m not one of them yet.

What happens to “dead” blogs? I hear they become “dotsam” and “netsam” - that is, unwanted objects bobbing around out there in cyberspace, the cyber equivalent of flotsam and jetsam.

I recently received one of those spam comments that had glowing praise for my posts, then asked the reason for the existence of Judah’s Journal. The person (or robot?) claimed to live in Latvia (that might have been so) but his IP address was based in Amsterdam and using a network widely known in association with spamming problems. However, the reason for the existence of Judah’s Journal is clearly set out right here. Four years on and that is still the purpose to which I write.

Jesus was well and truly dead. He had been thoroughly scourged before being nailed to the cross - that is, repeatedly beaten and whipped with a 3-lash scourge that had pieces of bone or metal attached to the ends, tearing into the skeletal muscles to set the stage for circulatory shock. A crown of thorns had been pushed hard down on his head. Crude nails that were between 5 and 7 inches long and almost half an inch square had been hammered through his wrists and feet. The cross had been lifted upright such that his full weight had him hanging from it. Then after some time, when the soldiers decided he was dead, just to be certain they speared him through the ribcage, his right lung and pericardal sac and heart pierced releasing both blood and pleural fluids. Doctors tell us that just that wound in itself would have been fatal. Most unusually, his legs were not broken - but there was no need to do so as he was already undeniably dead.

Pilate required, and was given, official assurance that Jesus was dead. Any assumptions that Jesus was not dead after all that, and had only just swooned, fly right in the face of modern medical knowledge.

Later his body was embalmed in up to 100 pounds of spices and bound in bandages, these hardening as the spices and pastes dried. Even had he only swooned as some have suggested, and then woken up in the tomb, he was firmly encased. After an ordeal like that, who would have the energy to break out anyway? He was stuck!

The tomb had a huge stone weighing up to 2 tons rolled across its entrance on a carved downward track, a seal fixed across it, and a Roman guard set in place. The seal served to prevent any duplicity by the guard such that he might help in surreptitious removal of the body. Roman guards were beaten if they fell asleep on the job, even executed, and dead men for certain if they quitted their post. Everything possible was done to prevent a resurrection - Jesus coming out of the tomb - as the rumours of the prophecy (and the words of Jesus himself) had already circulated that such was going to happen.

But on the third day afterwards, the seal was found broken, the stone moved and the tomb empty except for the grave clothes. Opponents of Christ at the time have not disputed that fact. When the disciples proclaimed the resurrection, and the message of the Christians grew bolder and spread further, their oponents could have easily silenced them by producing the body - had they stolen the body. Indeed, a number of points refute the claim that the body was stolen, not least of them being the great number of witnesses to the post-resurrection appearances of Jesus, a total of over 500 people in various situations and groupings, people of integrity and where there is no evidence to undermine their testimonies, and also disbelieving hostile witnesses who were subsequently convinced it was Jesus.

Examine the evidences yourselves and try to refute them. Click here.

“What things?” asked Jesus of the two down-hearted disciples trudging the road to Emmaus. Find out here.

Easter Sunday, the day of Resurrection! Time to grab the Easter Bunny and eat all those eggs! Well, isn’t that how we celebrate? That is how a geat many folks prefer to think of Easter, rather than be faced with the real story of what this day is about. Will you dare to look at the evidence concerning the events of around 2,000 years ago and consider the absolutely massive ramifications that they have… or will you just munch on the chocolate instead?

Previous Easter posts

Greetings Charles!

If you have found my Journal and are reading this, please know that I am thinking of you.

For others who are wondering what this is about, I would like to introduce you to someone who, just a few months ago, was diagnosed with ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, better known in the USA as Lou Gehrig’s disease). This is a progressive motor neuron disease and quite debilitating. Charles is now confined to a wheel chair, doesn’t get around very much anymore, and the disease has virtually paralyzed his tongue, rendering his speech difficult to understand.

He started writing a journal - Charles & Life - to share his life and faith with others. I don’t think this is getting any easier for him, writing a blog, and I am hoping that he gets all the necessary assistance to keep it going for as long as possible. Why? Because he is a man who has much in his heart to share - the frustrations, heartaches, losses and griefs of this hugely debilitating condition in the way that can impart insights to the rest of us, but even more importantly and beyond it all, his love of God and how this helps him to overcome such circumstances regardless. Charles says he chooses to remind himself of specific biblical wisdom – as a man thinks in his heart, so is he (read Proverbs 23).

Meanwhile, there are others unprepared to submit to God’s providence and who are seeking control through voluntary euthanasia. After all, so they reckon, since we must all depart this life sooner or later, if life becomes utterly intolerable, why not depart it sooner by one’s own decision than wait it out until later with no prospect of anything better than more and worse suffering?

As Charles has written about in his journal, it certainly is a matter of choices, but of ones not always considered.

The options are closely related to worldviews. If I restrict my options to the gloomy ones above, based on the view that there is nothing ahead but worsening fortunes, increased suffering, and the infliction of that on others around me by virtue of my needs, then it probably makes some kind of sense to bring an end to matters now. However, I seriously and strenuously disagree with a worldview that is so hugely impoverished. Although it may sound callous to say so, that constricted view shares much in common with the actions of the child who throws his toys out of the sandpit when he cannot get what it is he wants. But I say that with a far deeper compassion than may be appreciated - if you can’t see any compassion there at all. I am not Charles and do not have to cope with the same struggles with which he is faced. But I do know that, as he points out, we still have choices even when damaged nerves and muscles fail, even when losses mount up, even when grief becomes overwhelming. One can (and does!) choose one’s own thoughts, what to entertain in one’s mind. That in turn impacts the “heart”, affecting one’s quality of being, in a way far beyond the circumstances of daily life.

I was touched by the account Charles gave of the help he received from the small group of boys, and the email from one of them later. Who can possibly say that his needs were merely a burden on others? They were certainly not! Those youngsters demonstrated their own growth in understanding, compassion and love for others. Who wouldn’t like friends and neighbours like them? This is a situation where love increases, not where meaninglessness and despair has a place. Charles writes about this as demonstrating the Body of Christ. And so it does. We may see only glimpses of the Big Picture, but we know without a doubt that “in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28)

Charles, whatever the particular future that faces you, and no matter the struggle, the love between yourself and our Saviour will continue to exist. It shines forth from within you, and will remain your witness to others through how you live the rest of your life. To God be the glory. You will be in the prayers of many who read of you here, and who visit your journal. As you will already know…

…in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

(Romans 8:37-39, NIV)

Charles has now come to the end of his earthly journey. That is so sad in that he will be much missed by his family and all who knew him, especially since (as his son wrote - see his note copied below) that Charles had a lot more to say that would have benefited all.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Final Post

From Tim Hodge:

I am deeply saddened to make this entry for my Dad. Early this morning, just after midnight, he breathed his last and made his final journey. He is Home.

Thank you for your love and support. If you would like to find more recent information, please visit here.

If you are one of the regular followers of this blog, you have already noticed that my Dad hasn’t posted an update in many months. Since the spring, he hadn’t felt much like writing. We are al the poorer for that because he still had so much to say.