Moving On

I helped my friend Gwen move during the past two days. Some might call this "benevolence," but I prefer to call it "insanity."

While Gwen is a kind and very helpful woman, she is also very particular. I began to discover this fact as I rearranged her lounge furniture for the 14th time yesterday. No matter how we placed it, the lounge did not suit her. Finally, after shifting every single piece of furniture in her lounge and breakfast area, her distaste was satiated.

We loaded up a truck today with large items like mattresses and plants, and drove them over to the new house. Gwen drove the truck, Jason and Amanda followed in their car, and I took a load of stuff in the Laser. As we made the 10 minute drive to the new house, I noticed that Gwen was taking the roundabouts (still one of my favorite things in Australia) rather speedily. And then a competitive mood apparently hit her, and she took a different route so that she could beat me to the house.

As I drew closer to the house, I noticed a couple of people on the side of the road holding a mattress. I thought, "That's interesting--someone else is moving today!" And then I thought, "That looks like Jason and Amanda's car." And then I thought, "Those people look like Jason and Amanda." And so they somehow strapped the mattress to their roof with a piece of rope that was randomly located in their trunk. And we somehow had a safe rest of the trip over to the house.

Although I often make fun of Gwen for these kinds of things, I really enjoyed the speed bumps that we hit while I helped her move. It's these kinds of things that make funny stories. And that make friendships all the more valuable.

Wrinkles

During my stay here in Brisbane, I have been able to spend some time with a few elderly people. I don't want to define "elderly," because I have found that I lose friends that way.

Something that my friend Wilson McCoy shared with me while he was here stuck with me and has not gone away. Wilson said, "A lack of respect for age is unique to the West." Every other culture honors age as something to be gained. But where I come from, we run from age. We cut, pull, stitch, deprave, and torture our bodies simply so that we may look young. Because wrinkles are bad.

But we don't just run away from looking old, do we? We don't want to have anything to do with old. I feel a punch in my stomach every time I mention Ninja Turtles to a child and that child has no idea what I'm talking about. I feel out of the loop. I feel irrelevant. I feel--old.

And so when it comes to hanging out with old people, many of us cringe. We fear that we won't know what to say, or that we will have to repeat everything louder so that they will understand, or that they will try to show us their wounds from the war. But we mostly fear that we won't get anything from the experience. That we will be bored.

One theme that is found throughout the biblical texts is "taking care of the widow and the orphan"--two symbols of those who cannot care for themselves. Or, maybe better phrased, those who are normally forgotten by the masses. So, friends, I exhort each of us to not only talk to old people, love old people, and visit old people. I exhort each of us to respect old people, because they made mistakes that we, now, don't have to. Because they took care of us when we were not able to take care of ourselves. Because there are a lot of great things that come with wrinkles.

Parousia

The term "Parousia" refers to the Second Coming of Christ. We, as Christians, anxiously await his return. I have labeled this post "Parousia" not because I equate my return to blogging with the return of the Christ to the world, but rather because I thought it would be somewhat humorous to think about people anxiously awaiting my return to blogging as much as they anxiously await the return of Christ to earth. If I have offended you, I apologize. If I haven't offended you and you still don't think it's funny, you can leave my blog now.

"So why the haitus?" you might be wondering. Trust me, it's not from lethargy or lack of desire. A group of Lipscomb students just spent a month in Brisbane, and we helped out at two camps, we orchestrated a Vacation Bible School, and we spent a lot of time ministering to people in the Brisbane area. I'm sorry about not updating my blog.

I can't fit all of our experiences into one post, and so I want to show you snippets of the past month. I find that I enjoy reading books with pictures more, and so why not read a blog with pictures?


This is a picture of my roommate, Jonathan, throwing a frisbee beneath a tree. This picture represents the time that we spent at the team retreat. It rained the first day that we we there, but the next morning was beautiful and we were able to spend some time outside. The team retreat is useful, as it is a good time for all of us to get to know one another a little better before our time of ministry here.










This picture is of Andy, Katie, and me at Camp Orion. Camp Orion is an outdoor camp that encourages kids to stretch their comfort zones--physically and socially. The people who run the camp are Christians, and we invite people from all different walks of life to this camp. It's a good way to teach the ways of Jesus to kids through relationship. Katie and I were two "counselors" at the camp, and Andy was our assigned "buddy." Our role was to invest time and energy into making sure Andy was having a good camp experience. But I'm not sure he needed our help with that--he seemed to do just fine on his own!


We hold a Holiday Bible School (HBS) for three mornings during the trip, while the children are on their Winter Break. I helped out with the wee ones this year, and we talked about Jesus' twelve friends, the disciples. Heidi and I were in charge of story time, so we read the story of the day to the kids and asked them questions about the story. As you can see, we had our hands full.







This picture doesn't really represent anything. We took a trip to the zoo one day, and my host brother, Chris, and I enjoyed hanging out with the kangaroos. I thought that it would be funny to get out my map of the zoo and act like I was getting directions from the kangaroo. It's funny, because while the kangaroo would probably know it's way around the zoo, it can't communicate with me, a human.





I hope that you have enjoyed this small photographic look back upon my last few weeks. I hope to blog more in the next three weeks of ministry here. Until then, may the peace of Christ be with you all.

Roundabout

One of my favorite features of the Australian roadway is the roundabout. The Australian government has placed these wonderful inventions throughout the suburbs of Brisbane in order to conserve fuel. Roundabouts or more environmentally friendly than any other intersection control system. The wonderful thing about roundabouts is that you can go left, straight, right, or even the opposite direction than the one from which you came! If everything goes according to plan, everyone moves around the roundabout in a most fluid manner.

I wish that I could make some pithy comments relating life to a roundabout, like: "Only you can decide in which direction your life goes." "Even if you get turned around, you can still find the right path." "It's never too late to turn around."

But the truth is that sometimes, we have no control over the direction of our lives; we often are so disoriented, we have no idea what the right path is; and unfortunately, at times, we get so lost that we can't turn around.

I say these things no to depress my readers (both of you), but to reveal that we, as humans, mess things up pretty bad most of the time. And because Wilson McCoy and I got lost today. It seems to me that we are totally dependent upon God to find holiness, to find goodness, to find truth. Without that Divine Presence, we wouldn't have much of a chance to find good. But with that Divine Presence, we have the opportunity to move beyond the roundabout, beyond the map, beyond good directions. We have the opportunity to find comfort and refuge, no matter where we are on our journey.

Roller Coaster

The last few days have been quite tumultuous. Several moments of joy, coupled with several moments of sobriety.

Saturday night, I led a discussion about the faithfulness of God in a Bible study group. (I tell you, these Australians like their Bible studies. I think that I could be involved in one just about every night.) I mainly wanted to highlight the tension that I have found between stories like Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who were bad people, and yet God remained faithful to his covenant with them; and passages like Exodus 32 (the Golden Calf, where God threatens to wipe out the Israelite nation and start anew with Moses). It seems to me that God remained faithful throughout the Patriarchs' unfaithfulness, and then somehow the Israelites pushed him too far. The consensus of the group by the end was that God is faithful; the only variable is whether we choose to be faithful. I continued to ponder about such things. And then I saw a rainbow on Monday, which perpetuated my ponderings.

Sunday was Kids' Day at church, which meant that the children sat up front for the lesson. I retold the story of Joseph, and spoke about how we ought to use our gifts. We let the kids act out most of the story, giving them props and such. The one of which I was most proud was a pot with a ball of wool placed inside for Potipher. Think about it--it's funny.

I spent Sunday evening at West End, a church located in Brisbane city. A motley crowd attends West End: some people from traditional church backgrounds, some people who have had bad church experiences, some homeless people. Here, I met Patricia. Patricia lives beneath a house that is a block from where the church meets. She attempts to make money by performing on the street. Her newest attraction is a pair of puppets, one clown and one girl. Patricia carries all of her belongings in a large old leather suitcase, but has trouble walking. She has been beaten while on the street. Her day is never complete without receiving verbal assaults. I will not bother asking questions about human suffering. One blog cannot contain such queries. Instead, I only ask this: Why must we, as humans, perpetuate suffering? Why does one broken human beat, spit upon, verbally assault, molest, tease another broken human?

Today was spent with a local high school chaplain. One lesson learned: do not leave your headlights on. Your car battery will die. It's not an urban myth.

Morrie, Tanja, and Wellington

I guess that I should go ahead and warn you reader(s) that I will sometimes use this blog in order to reflect upon theological, pastoral, or philosophical things. I mean, what did you expect--me just ranting about my experiences in some country thousands of miles away from home? Come on...

This post is one such instance.

At times, it may seem as if I ramble, but please linger with me. I at least try to go places with my words. If it turns out that I don't, let me know.

I invite you to reflect along with me. I also invite you to dialogue and/or disagree with me upon such things. Just realize that this is my blog and if I don't like your post, I'll delete it.

I worry. I worry about big things, medium things, and small things. I worry about what I'm doing while I'm working. I worry about what I'm not doing while I'm sitting. I worry about my family, my friends, my acquaintances. I worry about enemies, strangers, passers by. I worry about things that matter. I worry mostly about things that don't matter. I worry about my future. I worry about my present. I worry about my past. I worry about how much I worry.

If you are reading this blog, chances are that you know me and you therefore already know that I worry. But I guess that worry isn't really the best word for what I do. I would like to call it thinking too much or anxiety or getting on people's nerves. But none of those words really fit.

Worry is too strong of a verb. Think mostly connotes a good action. Anxiety isn't a verb at all.

So I guess that I should probably say that I do. No matter where I am, it seems that I just always do.

I walk. I watch. I read. I preach. I ponder. I sip. I write. I wear. I ride. I eat. I iron. I laugh. I cook. I wash. I play. I open. I ask. I place. I brush. I give. I drive.

I do.

And throughout all of my doing, it seems as if I never find any contentment, any sobriety, any clarity.

But I haven't just noticed this problem. No, I have spent a while seeking some sort of remedy of all of this stress that I carry from constantly doing. Trust me, I've searched, and heaps and heaps of material exist concerning the relief of stress, anxiety, worry, depression, doing, insert word here. Just wander through the Self Help section at Barnes and Noble and you'll find plenty. Many of these materials offer a certain number of "simple steps" or "key tips" on how to get rid of these things.

But this topic is nowhere near simple. I suggest that it takes years to develop these habits, and so it unfortunately takes longer than 3 weeks to a "non-cluttered" desk and a "non-cluttered" mind.

***

I took this morning off. I woke up at around 8 o'clock and read for a little while. The material of choice was Tuesdays with Morrie, a memoir of a dying professor of sociology and his impact on the world around him. One of my mentors for the summer, Mark Jent, gave me this book to read and I have enjoyed every page. Morrie was a fun old man who used to enjoy teaching, eating lunch with students, and dancing at a local church every Friday night. Then he contracted ALS and his body began to wither. This book captures his final few meetings with a former student.

Morrie has taught me a lot thus far, but an interesting excerpt from this morning caused me to pause. Morrie speaks of a Buddhist ritual to imagine a little bird on one's shoulder every day and ask, "Is today the day for me to die, little bird? Is today the day?" I admit that I have always been a bit cynical about the "Live Like You're Dying" philosophy of life, because it seems as if the thought strikes many of us for about a week and then we get on with our lives. But Morrie's little bird taught me a lesson today. When that little bird chirps, one thinks of loved ones, experiences, deep rooted joy. One doesn't immediately think of do. Morrie tells that maybe if we thought of this little bird a little more, we wouldn't work so hard. Or do so much...

Then I traveled to a little cafe about ten minutes away called Tanja's (pronounced tan - ya). I sat in the shade, continued my dialogue with Morrie, and ate pancakes. I watched the people around me every now and then (a rude habit, I know; but come on, you do it, too) and enjoyed sharing the bright, sunny morning with them.

After finishing breakfast, I continued up the road to the northernmost spot in Wellington Point. A park rests on the edge of the beach at Wellington Point. I walked to the end of the pier there and watched some fishers cast their lines. I peered across the water at some seagulls who swam across the water, enjoying a cool bath. I then walked across the beach, sometimes into the water, and enjoyed the tranquility of the morning. I listened to the calls of the gulls, the lapping of the water against the shore, the barks of dogs running across the sand, the laughter of children standing in the water. As I returned to my car, I noticed that more and more visitors arrived at the beach with fishing poles, sunscreen, and noise.

***

I rested this morning. When a thought of worry entered my mind, I let it go. I was present, no matter where I was. And while I read, I ate, and I wandered, I didn't do anything. Instead, I was.

In the Exodus narrative, when Moses asks God what God's name is, God responds, "I AM (or WILL BE)."
In the same narrative, when Moses delivers the Ten Commandments, the fourth states that everyone in Israel should keep the Sabbath day of rest because God himself rested on the seventh day.
In the Psalter, one of the psalmists describes the turmoil of the earth and the dangers therein and then quotes, "Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth."
In Mark's Gospel, Jesus calms a storm on the sea by saying, "Be silent; be quiet."

It seems to me that I have rambled into two areas here: 1) being, and 2) resting. But it also seems to me that one feeds into the other. One may not be without habitual rest. The danger into which many of us fall whenever we constantly do is that we forget to be. I do not think that doing things is bad, or else nothing would ever really get done. But the challenge comes with being fully present wherever we are. God describes himself as "being" and "will being" because he is always fully present. The Fourth Commandment implies that in order to be like God, we must rest. The psalmist sees all of the bad around him and then looks to God for help and God replies, "Be still." Jesus stills a violent tumult by saying, "Be quiet," and then tells his disciples to have more faith.

When we rest, we tell God that we trust him. When we rest, we look forward to the eschatological rest that God has promised us. When we rest, we are.

Lord, give our minds rest so that we might be fully present wherever we are. Give our minds rest so that we might be fully present in whatever we are doing. Give our minds rest so that we might look forward to the Second Coming of your Son, and we enjoy rest with you and all of your saints. All glory, honor, and praise be to you.
Amen.

cf. Exodus 3, Exodus 20, Psalm 46, Mark 4

Driving on the Wrong Side of the Road

As you might have guessed from the title, I now have a car. The main difference between Australian driving and American driving is the amount of roundabouts. Most of the intersections in the outskirts of Brisbane are roundabouts, which are so much cooler than traffic signals or stop signs. Oh, and one other difference is driving on the opposite side of the road. For one who doesn't pay attention very well, it keeps me on my toes.

That's right, I am now the proud co-owner of a 1989 Ford Laser hatchback, equipped with four doors, a hatch, a CD player, and five seats. And a manual gear shift. For those of you who are wondering, "Does Lucas know how to drive a manual car?" the answer is "Yeah... sort of." And I'm getting better every time I drive. I promise.

The last few days have sort of felt like I'm driving on the wrong side of the road. The whole car purchasing ordeal has been surreal--meeting the owner, test driving it, and then all of a sudden filing paperwork for ownership and insurance. I have met some old friends and made new ones already, which has also been surreal. I haven't talked to many of these people in a year, and yet we are still able to have meaningful conversations, like I never left.

I am quite thankful for my host family. They have been very understanding when I fall asleep watching television with them at 8 p.m. and helping me get accustomed to the time change. I am also quite thankful for Gwen Edginton, who has sort of adopted me as a grandson. She introduced me to the owner of the car and helped me through the purchasing process. She has also introduced me to a few new people by taking me to a Bible study Saturday night. I look forward to meeting with them somewhat regularly this summer to study the Scriptures and share in this life together.

Today looks like a busy day. The other intern, Jessi, arrived this morning, and so I am about to go to her host house and discuss some things with her. Then I'll be off to go by the bank and pay for the car, and then prepare for a Bible study tonight. Some other things will probably pop up along the way. They always do while driving on the wrong side of the road.