Blog Archives

Birth Pangs

6/27/2017

There’s a question that’s bothered me for a fair slice of my life. I can remember once thinking it would be the first question I’d asked God when I meet him face to face, but my son reminded me that by then it wouldn’t be important and of course he was right.

It’s the question I asked as I watched my parents struggle with ageing … my father with a serious heart condition and crippling arthritis and my mother with cancer.

I asked it again when a life-long friend battled for years with the humiliating effects of Alzheimer’s disease and finally lost the battle … and each time I visit a friend in a nursing home when the indignity of ageing overwhelms me.

What is the purpose of old age? Why is this last stage of life so often characterised by pain, suffering and decline … when ”another will dress you and take you where you do not want to go”. Now as I head into old age with the occasional twinges in the knuckles and knees, the question has become personal.

This week I I think I got a little closer to the answer or as much as I will in this lifetime. I’ve been wandering once more through the book of Romans and last week lingering longer than usual in chapter eight. It’s been a favourite of mine since I learnt the whole chapter by heart at a Daily Vocational Bible School when I was a child. Numerous times God has reminded me of its verses at times when I needed them most.

The other day I came to the passage that speaks about all creation groaning as it waits for deliverance. The Message puts it this way, “ All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs. But it’s not only around us, but within us. The Spirit of God is arousing us from within.”

Suddenly I got a glimpse of pregnancy as a snapshot of life from conception to death. There’s that wonderful celebratory moment when the colour on the pregnancy strip tells you that the hoping and longing is behind you ... you are pregnant! Slowly the bump begins to show, then there’s the first kicks … you become larger and larger as does the anticipation. But the time comes when you’re exhausted from carrying around the load … your back aches and sleep is scarce because you can’t get comfortable ... you can’t wait to be delivered. The birth pains are agonising but the anticipation of new life makes it all seem worthwhile, as you wait expectantly.

Perhaps old age is just that ... birth pangs ... that which builds in us anticipation of deliverance to a new life, free from groans, pains and tears. Maybe as we gradually give up more of our independence and self-sufficiency, we are enlarged in the longing for the freedom ahead.

“The waiting does not diminish us any more than it does a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course don’t see what’s enlarging us but the longer we wait, the larger we become and the more joyful our expectancy.”

4 Comments

Strangers

6/20/2017

1 Comment

I came upon this bookshop one decidedly crisp morning in Paris. It was almost noon and still just two degrees. The fountains were frozen … their ponds, which rang with the laughter and excitement of children sailing their boats in summer, now shimmered with a layer of ice, so the thought of a cosy bookshop seemed an invitation I couldn’t refuse.

Walking through the door felt like walking into Wonderland. The walls appeared to have been constructed from books, stacked, poked and jammed into every conceivable crevice … from floor to ceiling, over doorways, under windows and up and under stairways.

The narrow, well-worn staircases led ever upwards and I felt more and more as if I’d tumbled into something from a topsy-turvy children’s storybook. Snuggled amongst all the chaos of books were chairs, beds and even a piano ... but I’m getting ahead of the story.

In 1951, George Whitman, an American ex-serviceman, established this English language bookstore on the Left Bank, opposite Notre Dame. It was originally know as Le Mistral but on the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare’s birth the name was changed to Shakespeare and Co.

George said, “I created this book store like a man would write a novel, building each room like a chapter. I like people to open the door the way they would open a book, a book that leads into a magical world in their imagination” … and that’s exactly how I felt on that cold February day as I stepped through the door.

On the second floor above a doorway, which led into the children’s section, were the words. “Be not inhospitable to strangers less they be angels in disguise”. I recognised the words from Hebrews 13:2 and wondered how George came to choose that quote, which in many ways became the theme of the shop and his life.

When in his twenties, George had walked and hitchhiked from one side of the USA to the other and through Mexico. He fell ill in an isolated part of the Yucatan and was nursed back to health by a tribe of Mayans. The generosity he encountered on his travels had a profound effect on him and inspired his philosophy of hospitality.

I discovered that George opened his heart, his shop and his life to aspiring writers asking only that they help in the shop for two hours each day and read a book a day in exchange for free accommodation. Over 30,000 people have stayed in the shop since it opened in 1951. They’ve slept among the shelves and piles of books on small beds that doubled as benches during the day. He called them Tumbleweeds, because they drifted in and out with the winds of chance. The shop was also his home so he chose to be vulnerable in inviting anyone in.

I’ve wondered about those strangers. What did they learn from the books, from George, from each other? How did that experience shape their lives? How many went on to become authors? And I wonder how many angels George might have ministered to without realising it?

It's easy to show hospitality to those we know and love, it takes courage and vulnerability to open our doors and lives to the stranger.

In essence we are all strangers to those we don’t yet know.

Hebrews 13:1-3 encourages us to “Love one another as brothers and sisters, do not to forget to show hospitality to strangers … to remember prisoners as if we were in prison with them, and those who are mistreated as if you yourself are suffering".

George Whitman died in 2011, aged 98. His daughter, Sylvia Whitman has taken over running the shop in her father's memory and with lots of new inspiration.

1 Comment

Open Doors

6/13/2017

1 Comment

I've always had a fascination for doors, wondering what's beyond them ... where they might take me. Its a curiosity that's led me to photograph doors wherever I've travelled ... doors of every shape, size, colour and condition you could imagine.

Behind every door is a story.

Earlier this year I heard a story that made me realise that there are doors around us everywhere in life, waiting to be opened. The story is about a young South Australian man named Peter Carter. He was a keen tennis player and went to live and coach in Switzerland where one day he met a nine-year old Roger Federer.

As a pre-teen and young teenager, Federer found it difficult to control his emotions. There were tantrums and tears and he often threw and kicked his racket around the court yelling and swearing. But Carter saw Roger’s untapped potential and agreed to coach him.

Roger credits Carter with shaping him into a great tennis player, but much more importantly into a man. He says so much of the comfortable, relaxed style and the precision people speak about today he owes to Carter, and so much more … Carter instilled in him respect, humility and dignity ... the marks of a man.

I think we all have a ‘Carter’ somewhere in our lives. Kurt Fearnley, the great Australian Para Olympian, grew up in the small community of Carcoar where he was always included as one of the kids. He’d never felt different until he went to high school and experienced the looks of curiosity and pity. Enter a teacher called Miss Dickson. She organised 20 wheelchairs so the whole class could compete on an equal footing with Kurt ... it was a life changing moment … the boy who felt different, in that moment felt the same as everyone else.

When Kurt was just 14 years old, the community of Carcoar raised the funds to buy him a racing wheelchair and send him to the USA to compete in wheelchair sport. That spontaneous financial support from a community of only 200 people opened a door for Kurt to achieve more than he had ever thought possible. Today he is one of our greatest sportsmen.

Cathy Freeman opened a door for Jessica Mauboy. When Cathy visited her school, Jess saw Cathy as a living example of reaching the highest point in life, “I realised that it doesn’t matter what your background is, it’s what’s inside that’s more important … that’s what you have to give”. Cathy became the inspiration for the woman Jessica is today.

Tucked away in a drawer I have three letters of recommendation, reminders of bosses who, each in their own way, open doors for me. One was an absent-minded professor, whose fierce faith in me gave me confidence to take on a leadership role despite my feelings of inadequacy. In doing so he enabled me to train and equip a number of people to pursue their dreams.

The other two mirrored Jesus to me and taught me more through example than they will ever know.

We are constantly surrounded with opportunities to spur one another on. It might just mean letting someone know you believe in them or helping them find the courage to step out into the unknown, with no idea what's behind the door, but willing to risk.

Perhaps you will open a door for someone to realise their potential as a friend of mine discovered at a recent conference. Several people told him they were where they are today because of opportunities he gave them many years ago.

We never know the impact of our lives on another human being. Sometimes in the living of the everyday as a mum or dad, a teacher, coach, boss, friend, or grandparent, a door is opened, a door to a new way of thinking, a career path or a new direction in life.

1 Comment

Gone to seed

6/6/2017

3 Comments

Delving into the wonders of nature never ceases to amaze me. I stand in awe of the diversity and sheer genius of creation.

Right now everything seems to have gone to seed and has done so with exceptional flare. The intricate detail in a single seedpod is a work of art.

Even the simple dandelion is a design masterpiece, not just in its fine delicate beauty but its ingenious mechanism for distribution … tiny, perfectly formed parachutes are lifted by the wind to a new location. And not just wind, hot weather generates updrafts, allowing seeds to rise higher and travel further!

More species with the 'parachute' distribution design

The maple seed has wings and helicopter action for dispersing its seed.

Some seeds have structures that allow them to attach to the fur or feathers of passing animals, who then carry the seeds some distance away from the parent plant before they are deposited to the ground. Burdock, whose spherical fruits have numerous hairs with tiny hooked tips that stick to fur and also human clothing was the botanical model that inspired the invention of Velcro™, a sticky, synthetic fastening material that is now an integral part of life.

I think perhaps all the laws of aerodynamics, physics and engineering and so much more were there in nature before the mind of man deduced them ... we just need the eyes to see.

Some species of tree require heat from a fire before their cones will open and release seeds. Banksias, eucalypts and other Australian plants also rely on fire. The intensity and timing of the fire is important. It needs to be hot enough to trigger the cones to open, but if fires are too frequent, there is not enough time for the plants to grow big enough to make new seeds.

Many seeds actually require passage through the gut of an animal or bird before they will germinate. Harvester ants eat more small seeds than all the mammals and birds put together and are responsible for planting a third of all herbaceous growth.

No one seems to know just how many types of seeds there are on the planet. The Svalbard Global Seed Vault deep inside a permafrost mountain 1,600 kilometres from the North Pole is storing 725,000 different seeds for food production, to protect against extinction, natural catastrophes or war. It currently houses 100,000 different types of rice.

The oldest viable seed to have grown into a plant was a date palm seed estimated to be 2,000 years old. It was discovered in 1963 when Herod the Great’s fortress of Masada near the Dead Sea was excavated. It was planted in 2005 and now Methuselah, as the plant is called, stands over 4ft high. Botanists believe the seed had managed to remain viable for so long because the Dead Sea area’s climate is exceptionally dry and stable.

Seeds come in all shapes and sizes. The largest seed in the world is the coco de mer, the seed of a palm tree. It can reach about 30 cm long, and weighs up to 18 kg. The smallest is seed from a tropical orchid, 1/300th of an inch long. A mustard seed is 1/20th inch long.

Seeds have a tiny baby plant inside called an embryo from which the plant grows. They come with a supply of stored food and a protective coating. Some scattered seeds fall on barren ground and never grow into plants which is why so many seeds are produced in the first place. Only those seeds that fall in fertile soil will begin to grow.

Some plants, like peas, gorse and flax, have seedpods that dry out once the seeds are ripe. When dry, the pods split open and the seeds explode and scatter. If you’re lucky, on a hot summer day when you walk by a gorse bush, you will hear the gorse seedpods popping open.

Seed pods have a beauty all of their own, a uniqueness and surprising variety of design and functionality. Mostly they grow unnoticed ... quietly and unobtrusively achieving their purpose when the beauty of the flower has passed. But without them there would be no flowers tomorrow ... they speak about the continuity of life. They remind me that sometimes the least significant role is the most important and that growth and new life usually come through the turbulent winds and fires of life.

Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. John 12:24

3 Comments

Birth Pangs

Strangers

Open Doors

Gone to seed

Author

Archives

Categories