At a tutorial a few days ago I was told of a priest who had been studying Aquinas. When posted to a parish he placed all the volumes of Aquinas he owned under his bed and got on with serving his parish, not returning to them again until he retired.
I look around at my books, I read snippets of this theologian, and segments of another. I skim-read works I would like immerse myself and wonder whether, if it is deemed that I should be a parish priest, the volumes will go unread. I am an arrogant man, I believe that I am capable of being a great theologian. If I have the time to read, to study, to really think, it is my hope that other time I will be able to develop such grand sounding papers as “an integrated theology of providence and intervention in post genesis Christianity”. I would like to write things which would actually make a difference to the shape of theology, to the way church is done, to the way people think of God. A lofty and arrogant ambition indeed, and one ultimatly self-serving. Is my desire that God be known, or that I be knowing?
I find it unlikely that I will be offered a position as theologian-in-residence somewhere, with my task being predominately one of thinking with the odd lecture thrown in for good luck. My life in ministry is likely to be far more about conducting marriages and funerals, than it is about reading the works of great theologians. Maybe though, just maybe, this is a better road. Maybe it is only after 35 years of ministry that I will even begin to have a right to write on theology, and by then – I probably won't want to.
I know there has to be a balance between theory and practice. That often silence is better than speech, that its more important to learn to listen than learn to speak – and oh it’s a lesson I am in need of. I am far to much a fan of the sound of my own voice – or rather ideas (I dislike the sound of my own voice rather intensely).
So…enough rambling…I am going to go and be silent for a while
Yours as ever
The Broken Man
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Thursday, 22 January 2009
Thursday, 16 October 2008
To Smack
Eagle's Wings kindly provided me a link in response to my “Being a Dad” post. Arwen then responded to the content of the site the link was to, and as I don’t have anything else sensible to blog about today I thought I would take up the issue in a post!
For me personally, the theories of parenting that seem to make the most sense are those dealing with “attachment parenting.” How this works out in practice for me...well, we will have to wait and see but I will keep you informed!!
I think the link to the particular site that Eagle's Wings sent me is clearly trying very hard to find the right path in parenting, and address the question, "how can we parent in a godly manner?" I believe however, that the answers it comes up with are wrong. For example, here is an extract from the site:
Eileen wrote in concerned about a problem she felt that she was having with her childs behaviour in church:
"I am unable to find any specific advice on how to get a young child (ours is 18 months) to sit still in church. We would so like to have him in the service with us instead of the nursery, but that is completely unrealistic right now. You wouldn't advocate spanking him right in the middle of church, would you? He is otherwise a fairly well-behaved, happy little boy who has responded well to your training techniques."
The response to this given by the web site is :
“Please don't do that! Don't disrupt the entire church to spank your child. When you train at home you will not have to train in public. Go home and train. Set up a training session each day, duplicating as closely as possible the church service. Sit in uncomfortable chairs and play some hymns on the stereo. Then play teaching or preaching tapes while the family sits quietly and listens. Or you can sit beside him and read the Bible in a monotone voice. Better yet, if you don’t have the electronic media and you are able to induce your spouse to assist you, let your husband pretend he is the preacher and carry on for a little while, saying nothing interesting. Keep your switch handy, but not visible during this session. Speak in a whisper or use sign language as you would in church. If the child offends at a level that would be inappropriate in church, then swat him while making your sign language or while whispering your correction. "
I am involved in the leadership of church service, and find this description of church deeply disturbing. I am more than happy to have children being children in church! And I at least attempt to make sure that it provides them with some stimulation and sense of the presence of God. I could rant on that for hours alone, but I want to address the issue I consider far more important and disturbing: the idea of using a switch on an 18 mnth old child.
The issue of smacking has raged strongly in the UK as it has in many other parts of the world. The recommendations (to punish a child with a "rod" or "whip") of the website in question would be considered illegal in England, and in my opinion rightly so.
For this reason (and only this reason) I have taken the unusual step of removing the comments of both Eagle's Wings and Arwen, as they contain links to this website, and I am not comfortable providing links to a webpage which advocates something which is illegal in this county.
My attitude to smacking children is very much based on the kind of person I would like my child to become. My hope is that my child will be able to,with time, have a reasoned conversation about acceptable and unacceptable behaviour. Until that time I hope that the tone of my voice, and the way I respond to my child will show what is and isn’t okay. My hope is that as they grow older they will not feel the need to use physical force to convince someone of their belief, or to “get their own way” and that they will, as much as possible,be able to avoid situations in which others use physical force to coheres them.
I realise that we live in a society where this is not always possible, and on rare occasions I have had to use physical force to restrain someone. I worked for a while as a bouncer, and for a while in a hostel and over a period of two years I found a few occasions where force was required to prevent someone hurting themselves or someone else. I did not however, even in these situations find it necessary to hit them, instead I used the minimum force required to safely restrain them and then only at times where drink or drugs had made them incapable of reason, or I felt it was best to remove an iron bar from someones hand before talking through the issues surrounding attempting to beat someone to death with it.
I find it hard then to visualise a situation where a baby or child would be able to behave in a manner which would require me to strike them. If I can handle a 18 stone drunk man who is swearing and aggressive without slapping him, why should I need to slap a child? Both are fairly incapable of reason, yet in both cases, a potentially dangerous situations can be made safe, (by removing an iron bar from a drunk man, or lifting a baby away from a plug socket). In most cases I have found the tone of my voice and my physical presence are sufficient to convey that I am taking control of the situation, and that it will be alright.
In my youth work I have come across a lot of very broken people. Never have I felt the need to break a “hard case”. Instead I have tried to show people that they are cared for and valued, that their lives have meaning, and there is hope for them, and so, again, I can't subscribe to a style of parenting that suggests you have to “break a child” and let them know you are in charge. They can, I believe,know that you are indeed the parent, without you having to instil fear. As a broken man, I have no desire to break my child. Instead I hope, I pray, I will be able to be a parent who can help guide a child into becoming the person they are capable of being, whole, fulfilled, and loved.
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
For me personally, the theories of parenting that seem to make the most sense are those dealing with “attachment parenting.” How this works out in practice for me...well, we will have to wait and see but I will keep you informed!!
I think the link to the particular site that Eagle's Wings sent me is clearly trying very hard to find the right path in parenting, and address the question, "how can we parent in a godly manner?" I believe however, that the answers it comes up with are wrong. For example, here is an extract from the site:
Eileen wrote in concerned about a problem she felt that she was having with her childs behaviour in church:
"I am unable to find any specific advice on how to get a young child (ours is 18 months) to sit still in church. We would so like to have him in the service with us instead of the nursery, but that is completely unrealistic right now. You wouldn't advocate spanking him right in the middle of church, would you? He is otherwise a fairly well-behaved, happy little boy who has responded well to your training techniques."
The response to this given by the web site is :
“Please don't do that! Don't disrupt the entire church to spank your child. When you train at home you will not have to train in public. Go home and train. Set up a training session each day, duplicating as closely as possible the church service. Sit in uncomfortable chairs and play some hymns on the stereo. Then play teaching or preaching tapes while the family sits quietly and listens. Or you can sit beside him and read the Bible in a monotone voice. Better yet, if you don’t have the electronic media and you are able to induce your spouse to assist you, let your husband pretend he is the preacher and carry on for a little while, saying nothing interesting. Keep your switch handy, but not visible during this session. Speak in a whisper or use sign language as you would in church. If the child offends at a level that would be inappropriate in church, then swat him while making your sign language or while whispering your correction. "
I am involved in the leadership of church service, and find this description of church deeply disturbing. I am more than happy to have children being children in church! And I at least attempt to make sure that it provides them with some stimulation and sense of the presence of God. I could rant on that for hours alone, but I want to address the issue I consider far more important and disturbing: the idea of using a switch on an 18 mnth old child.
The issue of smacking has raged strongly in the UK as it has in many other parts of the world. The recommendations (to punish a child with a "rod" or "whip") of the website in question would be considered illegal in England, and in my opinion rightly so.
For this reason (and only this reason) I have taken the unusual step of removing the comments of both Eagle's Wings and Arwen, as they contain links to this website, and I am not comfortable providing links to a webpage which advocates something which is illegal in this county.
My attitude to smacking children is very much based on the kind of person I would like my child to become. My hope is that my child will be able to,with time, have a reasoned conversation about acceptable and unacceptable behaviour. Until that time I hope that the tone of my voice, and the way I respond to my child will show what is and isn’t okay. My hope is that as they grow older they will not feel the need to use physical force to convince someone of their belief, or to “get their own way” and that they will, as much as possible,be able to avoid situations in which others use physical force to coheres them.
I realise that we live in a society where this is not always possible, and on rare occasions I have had to use physical force to restrain someone. I worked for a while as a bouncer, and for a while in a hostel and over a period of two years I found a few occasions where force was required to prevent someone hurting themselves or someone else. I did not however, even in these situations find it necessary to hit them, instead I used the minimum force required to safely restrain them and then only at times where drink or drugs had made them incapable of reason, or I felt it was best to remove an iron bar from someones hand before talking through the issues surrounding attempting to beat someone to death with it.
I find it hard then to visualise a situation where a baby or child would be able to behave in a manner which would require me to strike them. If I can handle a 18 stone drunk man who is swearing and aggressive without slapping him, why should I need to slap a child? Both are fairly incapable of reason, yet in both cases, a potentially dangerous situations can be made safe, (by removing an iron bar from a drunk man, or lifting a baby away from a plug socket). In most cases I have found the tone of my voice and my physical presence are sufficient to convey that I am taking control of the situation, and that it will be alright.
In my youth work I have come across a lot of very broken people. Never have I felt the need to break a “hard case”. Instead I have tried to show people that they are cared for and valued, that their lives have meaning, and there is hope for them, and so, again, I can't subscribe to a style of parenting that suggests you have to “break a child” and let them know you are in charge. They can, I believe,know that you are indeed the parent, without you having to instil fear. As a broken man, I have no desire to break my child. Instead I hope, I pray, I will be able to be a parent who can help guide a child into becoming the person they are capable of being, whole, fulfilled, and loved.
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
Wednesday, 15 October 2008
Being A Dad
In the next 2-3 months I am going to be a dad. It seems like a normal sentence, one which could have been written by any of several billion people over human history. Yet as every expectant father knows, there is nothing in all that shared experience and knowledge that helps you feel even a little bit more capable or prepared for the task.
I have often “joked” here that we won't be doing the whole crying thing – I will have a chat. I will explain acceptable behaviour. Tantrums? No. That will not happen. This will be a civilised parenting experience. My world is a rational one. It has a methodology. It takes me from one point to another.
The emotional side of things I have never been great with in honesty. After saying “there, there” I am, in honesty, done. There is a set quantity (small) of responding to emotions that I consider to be unavoidable. I don’t want to sound cold...really…but people crying…it's all a bit dull in honesty…and loud crying..well that’s just bad manners.
So I picture myself at 3 am with a crying baby not knowing how to settle it..and I feel very, very lost and, well.... really rather broken.
Please don’t get me wrong. I am very excited by it all too, really I am. Just also terrified.
With every bit of breath in my body, with all that I am, I ask that God might guide me and transform me into a person who won't completely screw up my childs life.
Yours in fear,
The Broken Man
I have often “joked” here that we won't be doing the whole crying thing – I will have a chat. I will explain acceptable behaviour. Tantrums? No. That will not happen. This will be a civilised parenting experience. My world is a rational one. It has a methodology. It takes me from one point to another.
The emotional side of things I have never been great with in honesty. After saying “there, there” I am, in honesty, done. There is a set quantity (small) of responding to emotions that I consider to be unavoidable. I don’t want to sound cold...really…but people crying…it's all a bit dull in honesty…and loud crying..well that’s just bad manners.
So I picture myself at 3 am with a crying baby not knowing how to settle it..and I feel very, very lost and, well.... really rather broken.
Please don’t get me wrong. I am very excited by it all too, really I am. Just also terrified.
With every bit of breath in my body, with all that I am, I ask that God might guide me and transform me into a person who won't completely screw up my childs life.
Yours in fear,
The Broken Man
Monday, 6 October 2008
Apologetics
Standing at a family party with a cousin of the long suffering wife, I was asked what I am currently doing with my life. It's small talk, no one cares. I tell him I am training to be a priest. I quickly add; "it's okay, I don’t like Christians. Or church." I joke about the outfits that go with the job. It's a routine that I have become well accustomed to. I apologise, not for my faith, but the version of the chirstian faith I think most people think of when they hear the word "Christian". It all sounds so uncool, and I know that doesn’t matter, I know it's not what really counts. But I also believe, so deeply, and maybe so incorrectly that if you found out the person you were talking to was a Zen Master, or Rabbi, or .. well anything but a Christian you would think "wow, interesting" instead of "wow, I have to go now."
I wish I could find a way of explaning without the silly jokes that no-one laughs at and without the apologetic look, that I believe in a God who is incredible, who isn’t trapped in the pages of a book or chained to a church pew. Even the word "God" seems to lack something - it's musty and worn out. I don’t think I have come to terms with being a Christian yet – never mind becoming a priest one day. I am aware, really I am, that my spiel isn’t helping and that I need to find someway to be real – and I know some will say "you just need to be you, just need to tell it as it is, just need to....." but it's no little "just" – its not like there is a perfectly formed me somewhere I just need to let come out, it's (to go to the old images) like I am a stone covered in rubbish that needs grinding down till at last something more shapely is found, that deep within it all is the person I am meant to be but that it will take years – a life time under the hand of a crafts man to find the precious stone!
Oh, this entry is sickly. If I was reading this I would throw up.
Shudders
Yours as ever
In self disgust
The Broken Man
I wish I could find a way of explaning without the silly jokes that no-one laughs at and without the apologetic look, that I believe in a God who is incredible, who isn’t trapped in the pages of a book or chained to a church pew. Even the word "God" seems to lack something - it's musty and worn out. I don’t think I have come to terms with being a Christian yet – never mind becoming a priest one day. I am aware, really I am, that my spiel isn’t helping and that I need to find someway to be real – and I know some will say "you just need to be you, just need to tell it as it is, just need to....." but it's no little "just" – its not like there is a perfectly formed me somewhere I just need to let come out, it's (to go to the old images) like I am a stone covered in rubbish that needs grinding down till at last something more shapely is found, that deep within it all is the person I am meant to be but that it will take years – a life time under the hand of a crafts man to find the precious stone!
Oh, this entry is sickly. If I was reading this I would throw up.
Shudders
Yours as ever
In self disgust
The Broken Man
Monday, 22 September 2008
Stories for my Baby
A friend recently objected to our desire to avoid "children's bibles" for our baby. I can't stand them. Everything about them winds me up, and yet, as my friend pointed out, possibly having made sure that their christening present is an interlinear Bible (one that shows the Hebrew, Greek and English translation) might be going to far. The thing is – for me, that’s the whole point – I don’t want to present something watered down – but I do want to tell the great stories – to bring them to life, and I think sometimes we try very hard to avoid doing that with children; the Bible is full of blood and gore, and so we steer clear of certain passages.
For me, I can't think of a more exciting story – I want to tell my child the stories of our ancestors, the story of the people of God. I want to paint pictures in the air of the King who ran naked down the street, and the man who set lions on yobs, and the God who walked upon the earth. I want it vivid and vibrant and full of life, but, in that, I don’t want the point to get lost, I don’t want it dumbed down. I want it told as the sages of old told tales.
And so...while a story needs speaking not writing, I am going to write as a starting point. Saturday has been my traditional day for theology on this blog, and so I am going to stick with it, using Saturdays on here to tell each week a different story – a taste of the bible. If I manage it I will get them together with time, and bind them together, but, more importantly, I will try my best to let them loose - to let them sing, dance, twist and turn through the air; stories of selfish brothers, of wicked uncles, of love and romance, and yes even lust! Stories of peeping toms, and murders, of tent pegs through the head, and a God who screams out from creation "I love you", and then whispers it in our ear on the darkest night as a crown of thorns is pressed onto our God.
Yours as ever
The Broken Man
For me, I can't think of a more exciting story – I want to tell my child the stories of our ancestors, the story of the people of God. I want to paint pictures in the air of the King who ran naked down the street, and the man who set lions on yobs, and the God who walked upon the earth. I want it vivid and vibrant and full of life, but, in that, I don’t want the point to get lost, I don’t want it dumbed down. I want it told as the sages of old told tales.
And so...while a story needs speaking not writing, I am going to write as a starting point. Saturday has been my traditional day for theology on this blog, and so I am going to stick with it, using Saturdays on here to tell each week a different story – a taste of the bible. If I manage it I will get them together with time, and bind them together, but, more importantly, I will try my best to let them loose - to let them sing, dance, twist and turn through the air; stories of selfish brothers, of wicked uncles, of love and romance, and yes even lust! Stories of peeping toms, and murders, of tent pegs through the head, and a God who screams out from creation "I love you", and then whispers it in our ear on the darkest night as a crown of thorns is pressed onto our God.
Yours as ever
The Broken Man
Monday, 15 September 2008
It's A Man Thing
Men don’t talk. We don’t, not really. Not since the tribal councils of centuries ago. Men might compare notes on football but that seems to be about it. You sometimes see a few of them scurrying about after church service struggling to find anything to say to each other or anyone else; and so it was in an attempt to provide a forum for communication, that a year ago, I set up the Men's Breakfasts at my church. We now have a turn-out of about 20 men aged from 12-85 once every six weeks who get together for a fry up and chat on the topic of the day. So it was, on Saturday morning, that the alarm clock went off at 5 past stupid o’clock and I crawled out of bed.
I need to make this very, very clear – I do not like mornings. Hate them. I am not someone who wakes up with a spring in my step – I wake up wanting to go back to sleep. Why, oh why, did the idea of Men's Breakfasts seem so sensible? I thought of it on an afternoon. Not first thing in the morning. That was part of the problem.
It should be noted that I had been to only one such thing before – many years previousy..and hated it..so why I thought I would enjoy it by running it I don’t know. Despite the ridiculous hour though, I really do. I tend to speak for a few mins on a topic and then throw it open for discussion, and with a clear topic to discuss we find ourselves talking, challenging each other, revealing our past to each other, and then on Sunday, there seems to be less scuttling; we seem to, at last, recognise each other.
So the next topic is... "Is God a Man?" (I want to call it "Has God got a Penis", but may have to tone it down a little!!)
So many books, articles, writers – talk about demascalising God – or rather showing the feminine of God, and yet although it's an issue that I have discussed with lots of women, I have never discussed with men. So much of the Bible is written by men for men (I can hear the cries already – "INSPIRED BY GOD!!! INSPIRED BY GOD!!") but when it comes down to it – whenever we describe God, we limit God – God is the great I AM. Anything more we say; any description we find is to small to contain God.
So we will see..but here and now, at midday, it seems worth getting up early in the morning to sit around with menfolk and put the world to rights…
I need to make this very, very clear – I do not like mornings. Hate them. I am not someone who wakes up with a spring in my step – I wake up wanting to go back to sleep. Why, oh why, did the idea of Men's Breakfasts seem so sensible? I thought of it on an afternoon. Not first thing in the morning. That was part of the problem.
It should be noted that I had been to only one such thing before – many years previousy..and hated it..so why I thought I would enjoy it by running it I don’t know. Despite the ridiculous hour though, I really do. I tend to speak for a few mins on a topic and then throw it open for discussion, and with a clear topic to discuss we find ourselves talking, challenging each other, revealing our past to each other, and then on Sunday, there seems to be less scuttling; we seem to, at last, recognise each other.
So the next topic is... "Is God a Man?" (I want to call it "Has God got a Penis", but may have to tone it down a little!!)
So many books, articles, writers – talk about demascalising God – or rather showing the feminine of God, and yet although it's an issue that I have discussed with lots of women, I have never discussed with men. So much of the Bible is written by men for men (I can hear the cries already – "INSPIRED BY GOD!!! INSPIRED BY GOD!!") but when it comes down to it – whenever we describe God, we limit God – God is the great I AM. Anything more we say; any description we find is to small to contain God.
So we will see..but here and now, at midday, it seems worth getting up early in the morning to sit around with menfolk and put the world to rights…
Thursday, 4 September 2008
For A Friend....
The discussion yesterday about pregnancy got me thinking again. One of the big issues with teenage pregnancy is it is often the “good kids” who get pregnant. The reason for this is that they are not expecting to have sex, and so are less likely to be carrying protection.
One of the ways we attempt to combat this with our young people is by asking people to “carry for a friend”. By carrying, we tell them that if a friend finds themselves in a situation they will be able to say "here is some protection". Because they are not carrying it for themselves – and we encourage people to talk it through with parents – the embarrassment of carrying it is gone – and yet if it's needed it's there.
In other News:
Finance:
We can take on a debt management plan which would help – a lot – the problem is when we do this we will have no access to credit cards etc anymore, and when we sell we will need to pay the soliciters (as in negative equity that money won't be there where we sell). As such we can't go on a debt management plan yet. Things are, however, improving. We have taken the money we need out the bank for food etc (we take it out at the start of the month so that if things bounce it's not the food bill that suffers) – and we have only just run out of money this month. Last month it was the 1st when the bank was over overdraft – and this month that hasn’t hit in till the 4th.
A book I was looking at yesterday asked me to look at the Lord’s prayer and how it speaks to my personal situation right now. It will come as no shock that in tears I prayed over and over again – "Lord God, forgive me my debts".
It Moves
When I crawled into bed last night and wrapped my arm around my wife and baby, the baby's kicking seemed more pronounced than ever; this is one energetic baby! The midwife at the last appointment was apparently surprised at how active the baby is – apparently the more active they are in the womb the more active they are in life. Yes, folks, it seems we have a hyperactive baby. "Surely not", I hear you say, "you will have a baby who would prefer to sit and read a good book than cause mayhem – surely – your child will be born with a taste for sitting and having a bit of a think…"
If I Were a Rich Man
"Dear God, you made many, many poor people.
I realize, of course, that it's no shame to be poor.
But it's no great honor either!
So, what would have been so terrible if I had a small fortune?"
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I'd build a big tall house with rooms by the dozen,
Right in the middle of the town.
A fine tin roof with real wooden floors below.
There would be one long staircase just going up,
And one even longer coming down,
And one more leading nowhere, just for show.
I'd fill my yard with chicks and turkeys and geese and ducks
For the town to see and hear.
Squawking just as noisily as they can.
And each loud "cheep" and "swaqwk" and "honk" and "quack"
Would land like a trumpet on the ear,
As if to say "Here lives a wealthy man."
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I see my wife, my Golde, looking like a rich man's wife
With a proper double-chin.
Supervising meals to her heart's delight.
I see her putting on airs and strutting like a peacock.
Oy, what a happy mood she's in.
Screaming at the servants, day and night.
The most important men in town would come to fawn on me!
They would ask me to advise them,
Like a Solomon the Wise.
"If you please, Reb Tevye..."
"Pardon me, Reb Tevye..."
Posing problems that would cross a rabbi's eyes!
And it won't make one bit of difference if i answer right or wrong.
When you're rich, they think you really know!
If I were rich, I'd have the time that I lack
To sit in the synagogue and pray.
And maybe have a seat by the Eastern wall.
And I'd discuss the holy books with the learned men, several hours every day.
That would be the sweetest thing of all.
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
Lord who made the lion and the lamb,
You decreed I should be what I am.
Would it spoil some vast eternal plan?
If I were a wealthy man.
Maybe..its a God thing that I am not a rich man
Yours as ever
The Broke and Broken Man
One of the ways we attempt to combat this with our young people is by asking people to “carry for a friend”. By carrying, we tell them that if a friend finds themselves in a situation they will be able to say "here is some protection". Because they are not carrying it for themselves – and we encourage people to talk it through with parents – the embarrassment of carrying it is gone – and yet if it's needed it's there.
In other News:
Finance:
We can take on a debt management plan which would help – a lot – the problem is when we do this we will have no access to credit cards etc anymore, and when we sell we will need to pay the soliciters (as in negative equity that money won't be there where we sell). As such we can't go on a debt management plan yet. Things are, however, improving. We have taken the money we need out the bank for food etc (we take it out at the start of the month so that if things bounce it's not the food bill that suffers) – and we have only just run out of money this month. Last month it was the 1st when the bank was over overdraft – and this month that hasn’t hit in till the 4th.
A book I was looking at yesterday asked me to look at the Lord’s prayer and how it speaks to my personal situation right now. It will come as no shock that in tears I prayed over and over again – "Lord God, forgive me my debts".
It Moves
When I crawled into bed last night and wrapped my arm around my wife and baby, the baby's kicking seemed more pronounced than ever; this is one energetic baby! The midwife at the last appointment was apparently surprised at how active the baby is – apparently the more active they are in the womb the more active they are in life. Yes, folks, it seems we have a hyperactive baby. "Surely not", I hear you say, "you will have a baby who would prefer to sit and read a good book than cause mayhem – surely – your child will be born with a taste for sitting and having a bit of a think…"
If I Were a Rich Man
"Dear God, you made many, many poor people.
I realize, of course, that it's no shame to be poor.
But it's no great honor either!
So, what would have been so terrible if I had a small fortune?"
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I'd build a big tall house with rooms by the dozen,
Right in the middle of the town.
A fine tin roof with real wooden floors below.
There would be one long staircase just going up,
And one even longer coming down,
And one more leading nowhere, just for show.
I'd fill my yard with chicks and turkeys and geese and ducks
For the town to see and hear.
Squawking just as noisily as they can.
And each loud "cheep" and "swaqwk" and "honk" and "quack"
Would land like a trumpet on the ear,
As if to say "Here lives a wealthy man."
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
I see my wife, my Golde, looking like a rich man's wife
With a proper double-chin.
Supervising meals to her heart's delight.
I see her putting on airs and strutting like a peacock.
Oy, what a happy mood she's in.
Screaming at the servants, day and night.
The most important men in town would come to fawn on me!
They would ask me to advise them,
Like a Solomon the Wise.
"If you please, Reb Tevye..."
"Pardon me, Reb Tevye..."
Posing problems that would cross a rabbi's eyes!
And it won't make one bit of difference if i answer right or wrong.
When you're rich, they think you really know!
If I were rich, I'd have the time that I lack
To sit in the synagogue and pray.
And maybe have a seat by the Eastern wall.
And I'd discuss the holy books with the learned men, several hours every day.
That would be the sweetest thing of all.
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.
Lord who made the lion and the lamb,
You decreed I should be what I am.
Would it spoil some vast eternal plan?
If I were a wealthy man.
Maybe..its a God thing that I am not a rich man
Yours as ever
The Broke and Broken Man
Tuesday, 19 August 2008
Frequently & Infrequently Asked Questions
There are some questions which I am asked on a fairly regular basis, and often the answers are buried in other posts. My apologies if you have been reading for some time and all ready know the information below, but I thought it would be worth doing a recap for those who are new here. I will put a link up to this post in the “about me” section so new people can find this post if they so desire! If there are other regular questions that come up I will add the answers to this post .
Why do you call yourself the Broken Man?
Depending on the day I have a different answer:
I am a Broken Man because of the experiences I have gone through. My parents divorced when I was 9, my father died when I was 16, my older brother died of a heroin overdoes, and I am on my second marriage. All of this has contributed, and much more beside.
I am the Broken Man, because I am broke; I owe, I owe, it's off to work I go.
I am the Broken man, because my body aches; I dropped a TV on my head and things haven't been right since.
I am a broken man because, to quote Morrissey, "the things I have seen could turn a good man bad". And I never was much of a good man.
I am a broken man because I suffer from depression. I have up days, and down days. On down days I want to drive my car into a brick wall and it feels like nothing will ever be okay.
I am the Broken Man, because I have spent a long time living in the dark – however – in the darkness I have found a light, a voice in the deafening silence, that calls to me, and a God who works through my brokenness, and holds the pieces together.
How did I find your blog?
When I am bored I start trawling through blogs, and it seems very rude to me to go into someone’s house without at least saying "hello". Hence, I left you a comment. I found you by putting key words into a blog search, or by following a comment you posted somewhere else, or by finding you on a blog roll of someone else, but I have a very bad memory and it is very unlikely I will now remember which route I took to your blog.
When is the baby due?
December. The wife and I are not too convinced about hospital predicted due dates – for first babies the studies we have looked at suggest that 42 weeks is more normal than 40, and when you tell people your due date they start asking lots of questions near the due date, like – "is it here yet?" So I prefer to just say “December”.
What branch of Christianity are you going to be a priest in?
I am training for ordination in the Church of England, which is an Anglican Church. I describe myself as a Christian (when I must), but rarely by denomination, as I tend to think denomination isn’t that important. Having said that, I like the way that theology is “done” in the Anglican church and hence this is where I am.
Why are you anonymous – how anonymous are you?
By being anonymous I feel I can say things I couldn’t if I wasn’t. For example – I can be rude about my church without offending anyone. I realise I am not incredibly anonymous and it would be very easy for someone with a burning desire to find out who I am to identify me, but I would prefer it this blog isn’t the first thing that someone finds if they put my name into Google.
How did you become a Christian?
This is a question I tend to avoid, as in honesty it’s a long and complex story, involving, much like the people of Israel in the Hebrew Bible account, following God for a while, and then falling away, before returning a little later. There is not a clear break where I can give you a date on which I became a Christian, rather there were many times when I made commitments which I then fell away from. The primary place that got me interested though was a youth discussion group which I attended with the express intention of disproving the existence of God. The thing that turned me off Christianity the most was those Christians who said that there were some things you shouldn’t ask questions about and just had to accept. The thing that impressed me the most was Christians who, no matter how much they disapproved of my life style, continued to care about me, and wanted me as their friend.
Where are you studying?
I am currently studying a Masters Degree in Jewish-Christian relations at the Wolfe Institute, Cambridge. My studies for ordination are taking the form of the first year of a degree course at a local theological collage, followed (probably) by a transfer to the Masters Degree in the second year of training. I am training part-time due to the financial constraints on me, but prefer not to name the place I am studying for Ordination with so that I am free to whine about the course if I want to!
Why do you call yourself the Broken Man?
Depending on the day I have a different answer:
I am a Broken Man because of the experiences I have gone through. My parents divorced when I was 9, my father died when I was 16, my older brother died of a heroin overdoes, and I am on my second marriage. All of this has contributed, and much more beside.
I am the Broken Man, because I am broke; I owe, I owe, it's off to work I go.
I am the Broken man, because my body aches; I dropped a TV on my head and things haven't been right since.
I am a broken man because, to quote Morrissey, "the things I have seen could turn a good man bad". And I never was much of a good man.
I am a broken man because I suffer from depression. I have up days, and down days. On down days I want to drive my car into a brick wall and it feels like nothing will ever be okay.
I am the Broken Man, because I have spent a long time living in the dark – however – in the darkness I have found a light, a voice in the deafening silence, that calls to me, and a God who works through my brokenness, and holds the pieces together.
How did I find your blog?
When I am bored I start trawling through blogs, and it seems very rude to me to go into someone’s house without at least saying "hello". Hence, I left you a comment. I found you by putting key words into a blog search, or by following a comment you posted somewhere else, or by finding you on a blog roll of someone else, but I have a very bad memory and it is very unlikely I will now remember which route I took to your blog.
When is the baby due?
December. The wife and I are not too convinced about hospital predicted due dates – for first babies the studies we have looked at suggest that 42 weeks is more normal than 40, and when you tell people your due date they start asking lots of questions near the due date, like – "is it here yet?" So I prefer to just say “December”.
What branch of Christianity are you going to be a priest in?
I am training for ordination in the Church of England, which is an Anglican Church. I describe myself as a Christian (when I must), but rarely by denomination, as I tend to think denomination isn’t that important. Having said that, I like the way that theology is “done” in the Anglican church and hence this is where I am.
Why are you anonymous – how anonymous are you?
By being anonymous I feel I can say things I couldn’t if I wasn’t. For example – I can be rude about my church without offending anyone. I realise I am not incredibly anonymous and it would be very easy for someone with a burning desire to find out who I am to identify me, but I would prefer it this blog isn’t the first thing that someone finds if they put my name into Google.
How did you become a Christian?
This is a question I tend to avoid, as in honesty it’s a long and complex story, involving, much like the people of Israel in the Hebrew Bible account, following God for a while, and then falling away, before returning a little later. There is not a clear break where I can give you a date on which I became a Christian, rather there were many times when I made commitments which I then fell away from. The primary place that got me interested though was a youth discussion group which I attended with the express intention of disproving the existence of God. The thing that turned me off Christianity the most was those Christians who said that there were some things you shouldn’t ask questions about and just had to accept. The thing that impressed me the most was Christians who, no matter how much they disapproved of my life style, continued to care about me, and wanted me as their friend.
Where are you studying?
I am currently studying a Masters Degree in Jewish-Christian relations at the Wolfe Institute, Cambridge. My studies for ordination are taking the form of the first year of a degree course at a local theological collage, followed (probably) by a transfer to the Masters Degree in the second year of training. I am training part-time due to the financial constraints on me, but prefer not to name the place I am studying for Ordination with so that I am free to whine about the course if I want to!
Monday, 18 August 2008
Make Me A Christian
A new “reality” tv show has just started in the UK, called “Make Me a Christian”.
The premises of the show is that a group of people interested in finding out more about the Christian faith spend three weeks “living like Christians” under the guidance of three mentors headed up by the Rev George Hargreaves.
This sounds brilliant; it sounds like the type of programme I would really like to be involved in.
Before it was on I started to think about how I would approach it. What would be my starting point in showing people what its like to live as a Christian?
Fairly early on, I think I would include a trip to an interactive prayer room with bits of paper on the wall for people to draw on, with sand pits, with water; lots of interactive prayer activities.
I would start off by talking with the group about the way we communicate with God and that there is no single way to do this, but that if we want to get to know God, if we want to find out about life as a Christian, our starting point must be communication as we have a God who wants desperately to communicate with us, who knows us inside out and loves and cares for us.
I would make sure there were chances for the group to study the Bible in the round, to discuss and debate and ask their questions, and I would make sure that the people I had as speakers were people who brought the Bible to life; who spoke with excitement and passion and love.
This programme's starting point was to go into the participants' houses and tell them all the things that they couldn’t have in their lives whilst trying to live as Christians; that they needed to clear out the rubbish. The Christianity they are preaching is the God of “YOU SHALL NOT” and that includes questioning.
Its not a God I know.
I believe in a God who invites us into the ring and tells us that its okay to try wrestling; I believe in a God who says "come on, give me your best shot, I can take it! If you are angry with me, shout at me, if you don’t believe in me, tell me, if you think the world is turning to rot, if you are hurting, if you are broken, then come on, give it all to me. I can take it. I love you."
This show – this piece of TV – seems to preach and teach a God which I wouldn’t want to know, and this fills me with an overwhelming desire to beat the “mentors” with sticks. The only thing that restrains me from hunting them down, is that I know they would see this as persecution for their faith and so clear evidence that they are doing the right thing and the devil is afraid of them. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
The premises of the show is that a group of people interested in finding out more about the Christian faith spend three weeks “living like Christians” under the guidance of three mentors headed up by the Rev George Hargreaves.
This sounds brilliant; it sounds like the type of programme I would really like to be involved in.
Before it was on I started to think about how I would approach it. What would be my starting point in showing people what its like to live as a Christian?
Fairly early on, I think I would include a trip to an interactive prayer room with bits of paper on the wall for people to draw on, with sand pits, with water; lots of interactive prayer activities.
I would start off by talking with the group about the way we communicate with God and that there is no single way to do this, but that if we want to get to know God, if we want to find out about life as a Christian, our starting point must be communication as we have a God who wants desperately to communicate with us, who knows us inside out and loves and cares for us.
I would make sure there were chances for the group to study the Bible in the round, to discuss and debate and ask their questions, and I would make sure that the people I had as speakers were people who brought the Bible to life; who spoke with excitement and passion and love.
This programme's starting point was to go into the participants' houses and tell them all the things that they couldn’t have in their lives whilst trying to live as Christians; that they needed to clear out the rubbish. The Christianity they are preaching is the God of “YOU SHALL NOT” and that includes questioning.
Its not a God I know.
I believe in a God who invites us into the ring and tells us that its okay to try wrestling; I believe in a God who says "come on, give me your best shot, I can take it! If you are angry with me, shout at me, if you don’t believe in me, tell me, if you think the world is turning to rot, if you are hurting, if you are broken, then come on, give it all to me. I can take it. I love you."
This show – this piece of TV – seems to preach and teach a God which I wouldn’t want to know, and this fills me with an overwhelming desire to beat the “mentors” with sticks. The only thing that restrains me from hunting them down, is that I know they would see this as persecution for their faith and so clear evidence that they are doing the right thing and the devil is afraid of them. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
Thursday, 10 July 2008
In Love With God
Dear God,
I have no doubt that you know how I feel about you; after all you know everything, yet, of late, I have doubted my own feelings a little. The problem started when I heard the way some other people talk about you. They talked with such passion about how in love they are, and they sang a song that said we should recapture our first love, that we should go back to how things were right at the start.
I have given it some thought, really I have, please don’t think I have made this decision lightly, but if its okay with you, I would prefer not to go back to our early days together. They were exciting! I will give you that; you know how to knock a gent of his feet. When I first encountered you I think I went into shock, and for a while, every time I came close to you, I lost my breath, I could hardly speak. There seemed so much to find out about you, and I wanted to know it all right now, and I took a lot of reassuring that you cared, and you provided it at every step of the way.
When we got married, in a low key service I had such high hopes; I was so excited, but in honesty I thought it would be easier than it has been. Married life has been hard work, I have had to change, far more than I belived would ever be possible. I had to give up some things which had been a big part of my life, I had to reorder my diary and make sure we had time to spend together. I don’t regret a single day of it though, and, as we have got closer, I think I have become a better person bit by bit. Now, that first flush of wild passion has gone, but what has replaced it is a real deep down knowledge that you care. Yes, sometimes you still take my breath away, but also I have found that love for you has been far more about all the little things; that while the thunder and lighting are incredible, while the earth shaking is amazing, you are mostly found in the whisper, in just sitting together, in the day-to-day conversations about the mundane.
I know I don’t bring you flowers every night, but ask anyone who knows me, and they will let you know that I have only positive things to say about you. I don’t spend every day raving about you, telling everyone I meet every detail about you (in honesty I think they would get bored) but every one knows we are together and that I think you are wonderful, and I am always very pleased to introduce you to my friends. I try to show how I feel about you in the day-to-day things, in the things I do around the house, in the way I behave with other people. Just to let you know, though I know you know it already, I don’t need big gestures from you. I don’t need you to constantly remind me that you care, I know how you feel, you made that very clear in a manner that I will never ever forget. Once you have given your life for someone, there can be very little debate about how much you care. I see your care for me in all the day-to-day things; the cloud formations, the job I know I wouldn’t have got without your support, the wife who is just right for me.
I know you don’t take offence easily and that it's hard to get you angry, so I feel safe in saying all this to you. I know normally I would just talk, just say what I feel, but I wanted it down on paper, so that when people tell me I should be more in love, when they talk of that wonderful flush of first love, that excitement of knowing you are around, I can show them this letter, and maybe they will see that for me, the way things are between us works just fine. I think the way they relate to you is incredible, but I am also very happy with how things work between us.
Yours, as ever,
The broken man
I have no doubt that you know how I feel about you; after all you know everything, yet, of late, I have doubted my own feelings a little. The problem started when I heard the way some other people talk about you. They talked with such passion about how in love they are, and they sang a song that said we should recapture our first love, that we should go back to how things were right at the start.
I have given it some thought, really I have, please don’t think I have made this decision lightly, but if its okay with you, I would prefer not to go back to our early days together. They were exciting! I will give you that; you know how to knock a gent of his feet. When I first encountered you I think I went into shock, and for a while, every time I came close to you, I lost my breath, I could hardly speak. There seemed so much to find out about you, and I wanted to know it all right now, and I took a lot of reassuring that you cared, and you provided it at every step of the way.
When we got married, in a low key service I had such high hopes; I was so excited, but in honesty I thought it would be easier than it has been. Married life has been hard work, I have had to change, far more than I belived would ever be possible. I had to give up some things which had been a big part of my life, I had to reorder my diary and make sure we had time to spend together. I don’t regret a single day of it though, and, as we have got closer, I think I have become a better person bit by bit. Now, that first flush of wild passion has gone, but what has replaced it is a real deep down knowledge that you care. Yes, sometimes you still take my breath away, but also I have found that love for you has been far more about all the little things; that while the thunder and lighting are incredible, while the earth shaking is amazing, you are mostly found in the whisper, in just sitting together, in the day-to-day conversations about the mundane.
I know I don’t bring you flowers every night, but ask anyone who knows me, and they will let you know that I have only positive things to say about you. I don’t spend every day raving about you, telling everyone I meet every detail about you (in honesty I think they would get bored) but every one knows we are together and that I think you are wonderful, and I am always very pleased to introduce you to my friends. I try to show how I feel about you in the day-to-day things, in the things I do around the house, in the way I behave with other people. Just to let you know, though I know you know it already, I don’t need big gestures from you. I don’t need you to constantly remind me that you care, I know how you feel, you made that very clear in a manner that I will never ever forget. Once you have given your life for someone, there can be very little debate about how much you care. I see your care for me in all the day-to-day things; the cloud formations, the job I know I wouldn’t have got without your support, the wife who is just right for me.
I know you don’t take offence easily and that it's hard to get you angry, so I feel safe in saying all this to you. I know normally I would just talk, just say what I feel, but I wanted it down on paper, so that when people tell me I should be more in love, when they talk of that wonderful flush of first love, that excitement of knowing you are around, I can show them this letter, and maybe they will see that for me, the way things are between us works just fine. I think the way they relate to you is incredible, but I am also very happy with how things work between us.
Yours, as ever,
The broken man
Tuesday, 8 July 2008
Christians In The News
A lot of the time I am ashamed to be a Christian. I know that is a shocking statement to make, as someone who is hoping to be a priest one day, but let me explain. When I speak to people about God they have an impression of the church as being full of hypocrites, as a place where the most judgmental people in society gather. They see Christians as irrelevant, as worshiping a long since dead god. I believe in a God who is transforming, who is loving, who is so incredibly powerful and Holy that we can’t begin to comprehend it.
A sense of dread grips me every time I see a Christian on TV. Are they going to say something ridiculous? Are they going to do yet more damage to how people see God? So I sat uncomfortably in my seat last night when a vicar appeared on my TV screen to talk about problem they had in Birmingham when a new Mosque had opened, and how lots of people had objected violently. I thought; “here is a Vicar who is going to add fuel to the fire”, but I was wrong. She spoke calmly, she spoke about the fears that people have of Muslim terrorism, and that the desire of a group of people to pray should be supported. Nothing she said compromised the Gospel; she did not say that she believed that Islamic beliefs are correct, but she did say that we should show love to everyone. Hearing her speak made me cry; cry that there are people out there who are displaying Christ’s love, who care passionately about justice and who care about people of every faith and none.
May God bless her and her work.
The Broken Man
A sense of dread grips me every time I see a Christian on TV. Are they going to say something ridiculous? Are they going to do yet more damage to how people see God? So I sat uncomfortably in my seat last night when a vicar appeared on my TV screen to talk about problem they had in Birmingham when a new Mosque had opened, and how lots of people had objected violently. I thought; “here is a Vicar who is going to add fuel to the fire”, but I was wrong. She spoke calmly, she spoke about the fears that people have of Muslim terrorism, and that the desire of a group of people to pray should be supported. Nothing she said compromised the Gospel; she did not say that she believed that Islamic beliefs are correct, but she did say that we should show love to everyone. Hearing her speak made me cry; cry that there are people out there who are displaying Christ’s love, who care passionately about justice and who care about people of every faith and none.
May God bless her and her work.
The Broken Man
Friday, 27 June 2008
Oh Baby
Okay the idea about the elephant jokes was barking. Forget it. Scrap it. Ignore it. Move on. I guess I was trying to say – look its not all black, and its not. I have been know to skip down the street, sure I get funny looks, but I cant walk past a puddle, I have to jump in it. I thought putting a joke in each entry might lighten the mood, but I am already bored of the idea.
Sitting up late last night I started to think about my as yet unborn baby. Well I say started, unsurprisingly having a baby dominates my thoughts, every time I see a child in the street, I look it up and down and think, "how would I cope if that was my child" With loud ones, screaming, swearing and being obnoxious, I generally think "not well". With others I think "yes, I can do this" – I then realise that staring at passing children can be viewed not as a future parent assessing and thinking about what parenting will be like, but as someone about to abduct someone). I have a friend with four kids; while they where local I found myself more and more drawn into their lives. I can't begin to say how much I wished I was their dad, and how broken-hearted I was when they moved away, particually as at the time I thought I would never have a child of my own. With miles separating us now I still speak to them on the phone and exchange emails, but I feel gutted that they are growing up without me being able to be a part of their lives. Okay, I sound like a nutter…moving on.
The real question is…What if I lose it? Or if, wearing a sling, I pour coffee on it. Or I drop it. Teenagers I can cope with. 5 year olds I think I am okay with. But a baby???? I am not good at remembering things. I am really not, I have walked home from places before now having forgotten that I drove; my wife has got home and said to me, "where's the car gone?". With a car that’s fine..with a baby.. And what if I don’t like it? What if it hates me. I know you are not meant to think this stuff, but I have seen some people's kids and thought, "my goodness, its ugly!". It hasn’t generated in me that gush of affection that seems to be so readily displayed by women who pass babies from person to person and coo. In such situations I sit some distance away, and read a book.
I spend my spare time (what there is of it) looking at journals, exploring risks, trying to work out how to be a good dad. I know it doesn’t all come from books, but books are what I understand. I think of holding my baby in my arms for the first time and find myself crying. I feel so utterly incapable of being the father I will need to be.
My role model was not great, its true. My father was a drinker, and was a fan of “play fighting” to toughen us up. He was away at sea for long periods of time, and my parents eventually divorced when I was only nine years old, my mother feeling it was at a stage where it was to dangerous not to. Whe I had just turned 16, I decided I didn’t want my father in my life anymore, that I would stop seeing him, but before I had a chance to announce this to him, I got a call saying he had cancer. I kept seeing him, visited him as he died, and grieved when he did, yet I want to offer my child so much more.
I don’t want to imply that my father was all bad, he had so much good in him. He had eyes the colour of the ocean that sparkled when he was happy, he was a great story teller, and he had something of the eternal Peter Pan about him, which had both positives and negatives. I know the theory, we have God as our father, our role model – well, yes, all well and good, but he isn’t going to help show me how to put a nappies on a child.
So confession time yet again – I seem to be doing a lot of that – I smoke. I am appalled at myself, I have a pregnant wife, I lost my own father to cancer, and yet I smoke.I am trying to quit, have been for years though, and its not going well. I don’t smoke in the house, I don’t smoke around my wife, but I know its killing me. I know that if I still smoke by the time the baby is born that even holding it will put it in danger, and knowing this, knowing what a failure I am every time I light a cigarette, makes me feel terrible, so terrible in fact that I really want a smoke…each evening my wife asks me how I have done with kicking the habit and I look down unable to meet her gaze.
Just one more day? Just till the end of the packet..and then, dear reader, I will stub it out…I will…i am trying..but as ever, I remain,
The Broken Man.
Sitting up late last night I started to think about my as yet unborn baby. Well I say started, unsurprisingly having a baby dominates my thoughts, every time I see a child in the street, I look it up and down and think, "how would I cope if that was my child" With loud ones, screaming, swearing and being obnoxious, I generally think "not well". With others I think "yes, I can do this" – I then realise that staring at passing children can be viewed not as a future parent assessing and thinking about what parenting will be like, but as someone about to abduct someone). I have a friend with four kids; while they where local I found myself more and more drawn into their lives. I can't begin to say how much I wished I was their dad, and how broken-hearted I was when they moved away, particually as at the time I thought I would never have a child of my own. With miles separating us now I still speak to them on the phone and exchange emails, but I feel gutted that they are growing up without me being able to be a part of their lives. Okay, I sound like a nutter…moving on.
The real question is…What if I lose it? Or if, wearing a sling, I pour coffee on it. Or I drop it. Teenagers I can cope with. 5 year olds I think I am okay with. But a baby???? I am not good at remembering things. I am really not, I have walked home from places before now having forgotten that I drove; my wife has got home and said to me, "where's the car gone?". With a car that’s fine..with a baby.. And what if I don’t like it? What if it hates me. I know you are not meant to think this stuff, but I have seen some people's kids and thought, "my goodness, its ugly!". It hasn’t generated in me that gush of affection that seems to be so readily displayed by women who pass babies from person to person and coo. In such situations I sit some distance away, and read a book.
I spend my spare time (what there is of it) looking at journals, exploring risks, trying to work out how to be a good dad. I know it doesn’t all come from books, but books are what I understand. I think of holding my baby in my arms for the first time and find myself crying. I feel so utterly incapable of being the father I will need to be.
My role model was not great, its true. My father was a drinker, and was a fan of “play fighting” to toughen us up. He was away at sea for long periods of time, and my parents eventually divorced when I was only nine years old, my mother feeling it was at a stage where it was to dangerous not to. Whe I had just turned 16, I decided I didn’t want my father in my life anymore, that I would stop seeing him, but before I had a chance to announce this to him, I got a call saying he had cancer. I kept seeing him, visited him as he died, and grieved when he did, yet I want to offer my child so much more.
I don’t want to imply that my father was all bad, he had so much good in him. He had eyes the colour of the ocean that sparkled when he was happy, he was a great story teller, and he had something of the eternal Peter Pan about him, which had both positives and negatives. I know the theory, we have God as our father, our role model – well, yes, all well and good, but he isn’t going to help show me how to put a nappies on a child.
So confession time yet again – I seem to be doing a lot of that – I smoke. I am appalled at myself, I have a pregnant wife, I lost my own father to cancer, and yet I smoke.I am trying to quit, have been for years though, and its not going well. I don’t smoke in the house, I don’t smoke around my wife, but I know its killing me. I know that if I still smoke by the time the baby is born that even holding it will put it in danger, and knowing this, knowing what a failure I am every time I light a cigarette, makes me feel terrible, so terrible in fact that I really want a smoke…each evening my wife asks me how I have done with kicking the habit and I look down unable to meet her gaze.
Just one more day? Just till the end of the packet..and then, dear reader, I will stub it out…I will…i am trying..but as ever, I remain,
The Broken Man.
Wednesday, 25 June 2008
The Blog of a Broken Man
So why a broken man? It seems a fair starting question. My life history is a messy business and seems a bit unfriendly to begin my tale with woe; if you find this page of interest, then I am sure we will get to know each other as time goes on, but at least a little explanation seems only right.
My life has contained much in the way of disaster. I can not claim more than others, however; the experinces I have had now seem common place. The loss of a brother to heroin, the loss of a wife to another man, money…ahh, now there is an issue..but I am sure we will come onto that in time.
I have lived through some dark times, as Morrissey once sang, "the things I have seen could make a good man turn bad". My story is not one of someone turned black by the world, however. As this page is black and my writing shines out bright and white, so it is with my life. It is written that those living in darkness have seen a great light, and that is my story. While I am broken, a cracked pot as the expression goes, shines light through those cracks.
As by now I am sure you will have guessed, I am a Christian. It’s a phrase that doesn’t easily roll of my tongue, in honesty; in England Christians have a bit of a bad name, they are associated with hypocrisy, and mediocrity. Faith is something that goes on behind closed doors, and what goes on in churches often seems unrelated to a belief in the Divine. My belief is in a God who is whiter than white, whot blasts away the most impressive advert for a new cleaning powder, I believe in a God who shines and expels darkness, who takes our brokenness, who takes all that has ever gone wrong, all that we have ever done and thought, and transforms it into something beautiful. Strength comes not from this broken husk, but from the God who breathes life into dry bones.
So this blog, this journal, if you care to follow it, will be the story of a broken man, hopefully, bit by bit, made more whole. When writing something like this one wonders who will read it, who will care about the ramblings of a stranger on the other side of the globe, so if you chance upon this page do introduce yourself, let me know that you popped by.
You have a right to wonder what you will find if you where to draw up a seat next to the fire on a regular basis, if you make this a point of departure in your busy day. Who’s life will be laid before you? Well, I am a 32 year old man, married to a wonderful women who is now 16 weeks pregnant with our first child. I have been accepted for training for ordination as a priest, but whether or not I can become a priest depends on whether I am able to clear debts accrued through negative equity. I will keep you posted as to how that goes, and will, undoubtedly, write about life as a father-to-be and my training. It’s a pleasure to meet you..I hope you enjoy your stay.
I think that is more than enough of an introduction, time to get down to the business at hand.
ENTRY ONE
Today my wife is 16 weeks and one day pregnant with our first child. It took five years for her to become pregnant, and we had given up hope. We had looked into infertility treatment, into the options available and felt unable to go down that road. The creation of embryos outside the womb, and the “disposal” of those not required seemed a step too far. A step into a world where we would prefer to leave God firmly in charge. So we prayed the prayers of the Bible and cried out as so many have before for a child. When my wife fell pregnant someone asked her, “Was it a miracle?”
It’s a good question. To answer "yes" seems to suggest that those who recieve no apparent answer, or a "no", have somehow been neglected by God but to say "no", seems to deny God’s hand in it. When I sit and think about it, I am certain that every birth, every pregnancy, every breath we take is a miracle, a gift which should be cherished, which we should take with gratitude. Is my wife’s pregnancy more of a miracle than me being able to open my eyes this morning? The only difference seems to be that I don’t often pray that I will wake up in the morning. We are surrounded by miracles, we just fail to see them for what they are. So yes, my wife being pregnant is a mircle, and one that I will thank God for every day of my life.
I can not begin to express how happy I am that she is pregnent, that we will be parents, that I will be a father. I wonder what kind of a father I will be, and confess I am worried, worried about all the mistakes I am sure I will make. Even now we discuss in every detail how we would like to bring up our child, even now I feel a twinge of panic about my inability. Hence, again, I come back to the statement that I am a broken man, made of clay. I try to remind myself it's not through what I can do, through my abilities, my skills – my roguish good looks (well, ok, I don’t have roguish good looks!) that God will work, it's through the cracks, the acknowledgments of my incapability that God can work. Its only when I say, "okay God, this is in your hands" instead of trying to do it all myself that God really gets a chance to work.
One of the things I love about God is that He is a gentlemen, this is not to imply that God is exclusively male, but rather that God has manners. God gets involved in the areas of our life we open him up to, not in the areas we lock away. The areas we lock away or try to, that’s where we have the trouble..
My lunch break is reaching an end, so I will end it there. Its been a pleasure, see you tomorrow?
A Broken Man
My life has contained much in the way of disaster. I can not claim more than others, however; the experinces I have had now seem common place. The loss of a brother to heroin, the loss of a wife to another man, money…ahh, now there is an issue..but I am sure we will come onto that in time.
I have lived through some dark times, as Morrissey once sang, "the things I have seen could make a good man turn bad". My story is not one of someone turned black by the world, however. As this page is black and my writing shines out bright and white, so it is with my life. It is written that those living in darkness have seen a great light, and that is my story. While I am broken, a cracked pot as the expression goes, shines light through those cracks.
As by now I am sure you will have guessed, I am a Christian. It’s a phrase that doesn’t easily roll of my tongue, in honesty; in England Christians have a bit of a bad name, they are associated with hypocrisy, and mediocrity. Faith is something that goes on behind closed doors, and what goes on in churches often seems unrelated to a belief in the Divine. My belief is in a God who is whiter than white, whot blasts away the most impressive advert for a new cleaning powder, I believe in a God who shines and expels darkness, who takes our brokenness, who takes all that has ever gone wrong, all that we have ever done and thought, and transforms it into something beautiful. Strength comes not from this broken husk, but from the God who breathes life into dry bones.
So this blog, this journal, if you care to follow it, will be the story of a broken man, hopefully, bit by bit, made more whole. When writing something like this one wonders who will read it, who will care about the ramblings of a stranger on the other side of the globe, so if you chance upon this page do introduce yourself, let me know that you popped by.
You have a right to wonder what you will find if you where to draw up a seat next to the fire on a regular basis, if you make this a point of departure in your busy day. Who’s life will be laid before you? Well, I am a 32 year old man, married to a wonderful women who is now 16 weeks pregnant with our first child. I have been accepted for training for ordination as a priest, but whether or not I can become a priest depends on whether I am able to clear debts accrued through negative equity. I will keep you posted as to how that goes, and will, undoubtedly, write about life as a father-to-be and my training. It’s a pleasure to meet you..I hope you enjoy your stay.
I think that is more than enough of an introduction, time to get down to the business at hand.
ENTRY ONE
Today my wife is 16 weeks and one day pregnant with our first child. It took five years for her to become pregnant, and we had given up hope. We had looked into infertility treatment, into the options available and felt unable to go down that road. The creation of embryos outside the womb, and the “disposal” of those not required seemed a step too far. A step into a world where we would prefer to leave God firmly in charge. So we prayed the prayers of the Bible and cried out as so many have before for a child. When my wife fell pregnant someone asked her, “Was it a miracle?”
It’s a good question. To answer "yes" seems to suggest that those who recieve no apparent answer, or a "no", have somehow been neglected by God but to say "no", seems to deny God’s hand in it. When I sit and think about it, I am certain that every birth, every pregnancy, every breath we take is a miracle, a gift which should be cherished, which we should take with gratitude. Is my wife’s pregnancy more of a miracle than me being able to open my eyes this morning? The only difference seems to be that I don’t often pray that I will wake up in the morning. We are surrounded by miracles, we just fail to see them for what they are. So yes, my wife being pregnant is a mircle, and one that I will thank God for every day of my life.
I can not begin to express how happy I am that she is pregnent, that we will be parents, that I will be a father. I wonder what kind of a father I will be, and confess I am worried, worried about all the mistakes I am sure I will make. Even now we discuss in every detail how we would like to bring up our child, even now I feel a twinge of panic about my inability. Hence, again, I come back to the statement that I am a broken man, made of clay. I try to remind myself it's not through what I can do, through my abilities, my skills – my roguish good looks (well, ok, I don’t have roguish good looks!) that God will work, it's through the cracks, the acknowledgments of my incapability that God can work. Its only when I say, "okay God, this is in your hands" instead of trying to do it all myself that God really gets a chance to work.
One of the things I love about God is that He is a gentlemen, this is not to imply that God is exclusively male, but rather that God has manners. God gets involved in the areas of our life we open him up to, not in the areas we lock away. The areas we lock away or try to, that’s where we have the trouble..
My lunch break is reaching an end, so I will end it there. Its been a pleasure, see you tomorrow?
A Broken Man
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