This prayer is from Tijs Jeuriaenss,
an Anabaptist martyr, burned at the stake in 1569.
Loving God,
You have baptised us into one body, and made us to drink the one Spirit.
Now grant us pure and faithful hearts that we may serve one another diligently in love, and find no cause to separate or divide. Call each of us to esteem others better than ourselves so we remain together in peace and joy. Grant these mercies to us and all your people.
Amen.
This prayer is often attributed to St Francis of Assisi, although its history suggests that it only appeared in 1912 in Paris. In 1920 a French Franciscan printed it on the back of a picture of St Francis, and it seems the attribution stuck. Whatever its origin, it is a beautiful prayer:
Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O, Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life.
By the time this post appears I will have been in transit for 30+ hours, but now in New York! It will still be Wednesday in New York though it is Thursday in Perth. I imagine I will be crashed out in my hotel on the Upper West Side, hopefully with a view over the Hudson River, but perhaps not, given the special price I paid for the room… The hotel is on Riverside, so that should put me in “A New York State of Mind.”
Update: nope, no view. But it looks like a nice park across the road. Off for a walk before the sun sets.
One of our former students, Allen Brown, has started his own blog exploring the nature of the Kingdom of God in Scripture. It is well worth a read if you enjoy biblical and especially, kingdom theology. The blog is called Seeking the Kingdom.
My lovely wife Monica, put me on to this one: The Slow Professor. It is a blog post about a book of the same name by Maggie Berg and Barbara Seeber. The blog post, by recently retired academic Barbara King, reflects on the corporatisation of higher education.
Last December, I concluded 27 years of college teaching and, for now, I still feel a part of campus culture. I’m in contact with colleagues (locally, nationally and internationally) who feel burned by this corporate model. They work long hours yet have little time to read or write for work, or just to think — the faculty activities that Berg and Seeber say a university should prize most and that may benefit its students the most.
Podcasts
Over the last few weeks I have given a talks on Christian ethics and Moral Reasoning at Lake Joondalup Baptist Church, on guidance and the Holy Spirit at Inglewood Community Church, and on the relation of science and faith at Lesmurdie Baptist Church. The podcasts of these messages are now online for anyone who is interested.
This semester I have trialed the use of reflection papers in two of my units – one of them an introductory unit, the other an advanced unit. In my instructions to students in the advanced cohort I wrote:
Students are to reflect critically on their own learning with respect to the assigned readings and intensive class experience. The reflection is to address one or two key aspects of learning, examining what new knowledge they have obtained (or new understanding of previous knowledge already held), and exploring how this newly acquired knowledge/understanding will shape their life in Christian community and Christian service. Students are to share key aspects of their reflection in an online forum discussion, giving and receiving feedback on the material learned.
Notes: this exercise is not an opportunity for solipsistic waffle. A critical reflection involves questioning and interrogation, and bringing the topic into critical and evaluative dialogue with other sources…
I did not remember writing it, so was a little surprised when students on the first day of class complained about the question. “What’s wrong with it?” I asked.
“We don’t know what you mean. I have never even heard of ‘solipsistic’…” I had forgotten I had written it, but decided not to back down. “Well, that’s what dictionaries are for: have you looked?” No surprises that a number had not yet gone to a dictionary. But then when pressed I admit having to search my own brain and “pull” for an explanation, not having a precise definition on the tip of my tongue.
I remember saying something like, “It means to be caught up with only your own thoughts,
going round and round as though there is nothing outside your own head worth talking about.”
I was rescued, however, by a conscientious student who took to dictionary.com and loudly proclaimed: “Solipsism: the theory that only the self exists, or can be proved to exist. Or, extreme preoccupation with and indulgence of one’s feelings, desires, etc.; egoistic self-absorption.”
“Yes,” I said, all knowledgeable, “That’s exactly what I meant.”
Having now marked the papers of the advanced class, I am very pleased to announce that there was no solipsistic waffle!
This prayer is from St. Dominic (1170-1221), founder of the Dominicans or Order of Preachers in the medieval church.
May God the Father who made us bless us.
May God the Son send his healing among us.
May God the Holy Spirit move within us and give us eyes to see with, ears to hear with, and hands that your work might be done.
May we walk and preach the word of God to all.
May the angel of peace watch over us and lead us at last by God’s grace to the kingdom.
Amen.
This has been a very full semester for me, although now the end is in sight. The main source of the busyness has been teaching an introductory unit in church history which I am very much enjoying (great class!), as well as preparing the content for a distance studies mode. Each week’s lesson requires the research and writing of an approximately 5000-word paper. I have also taught two other units which have required a good deal of work, but not as much as the church history. On top of that, I have had more local church engagements and preaching spots than usual – something I also enjoy, though in hindsight, had I known just how busy I was going to be, I might not have taken on so much. Last Friday evening I gave a brief lecture on Christian Moral Reflection at Lake Joondalup Baptist. Last night I gave a short teaching on Life in the Holy Spirit at Inglewood Community Church. Later today Monica and I are driving three hours south to Margaret River for a worship seminar at the Baptist Church there tomorrow morning. On Sunday week I must prepare a new sermon for Lesmurdie Baptist—and on a challenging topic!
All this is to explain why my blogging has been quite minimal this semester; something had to give. Though I do love my work: it is a wonderful privilege to get to do what I do….
These two events might be of interest to people living in Perth.
Tonight and tomorrow, Lake Joondalup Baptist Church is hosting their “Rock the Boats…Some More” seminar, their second seminar focussing on everyday ethics for everyday Christians. Sessions will address topics of asylum seekers and refugees, homelessness, Ethical Purchasing, the Environment, the upcoming Election and more. Speakers include Scott Higgins from A Just Cause, Eliza Johnson from Baptist World Aid, and Troy Pickard, Mayor of the City of Joondalup. I will be starting the seminar with a 15-minute spot addressing the questions: “What is Christian ethics? How Do We Think? How Should We Behave?” Fifteen minutes! The seminar is free to attend, at Lake Joondalup Baptist College Auditorium, 8 Kennedya Drive, Joondalup. It starts tonight at 7pm and on Saturday morning at 9am.
The other event is The Secular Juggernaut, hosted by City Bible Forum, a ministry dedicated to bearing witness to Christ in the CBD. The event is the 2016 Smith Lecture given by Roy Williams, author of God, Actually and Post-God Nation. The event begins with canapes and drinks at 5:30pm on Thursday May 26, followed by the lecture and Q&A at 6:30pm. The event is being held at the Atrium Theatrette, 168 St. George’s Terrace (cnr. King St.), Perth. Cost is $40, $180 for groups of five. I had planned to go until I realised I am booked to speak elsewhere. Williams will address the topic: “Christianity is perceived by more Australians than ever as implausible, undesirable or irrelevant. Why is it so? Does it matter?”
Yesterday I joined many hundreds of others to celebrate the life of Noel Vose. Noel was one of those rare breed whose lives are larger-than-life. At the age of ninety-four he remained active, alert, engaged, interested, and loved.
The young Noel’s circumstances were humble, his education meagre. Yet against the odds he gained an education, finally being awarded his PhD for a thesis on John Owen in 1963 from the University of Iowa. His wife, Heather, and their two children had already returned to Australia from the United States, and so Noel sent a telegram to advise of his success: “NOW IM A PHOOLISH DUNCE LOVE NOEL” (See Moore, Noel Vose, 130).
I have a vague memory of Noel telling me once that he was the first Baptist in Australia to be awarded the degree. Or perhaps he said “first Baptist minister.” Either way, he was rightfully proud of his achievement.
Noel became the founding principal of the Baptist Theological College of Western Australia. Many years later I was the recipient of his diligence and industry, becoming a student at the College, and years later again, am privileged to teach at the now renamed Vose Seminary.
Noel went on to lead the Australian Baptists before serving as President of the Baptist World Alliance. He has met with heads of state and sat on international councils, exercising his enormous influence for good. In his eighties, the Roman Catholics and Baptists were conducting an international consultation at the Vatican. Noel was invited as a Baptist representative and in a small gathering also met his Holiness, the Pope.
After preaching at Parkerville one Sunday morning from Psalm 77 on the importance of meditation in the Scriptures, Noel thanked me for the message and told me of that meeting. He told of a cardinal speaking to the small group and citing Jerome, “If you don’t know the Scriptures, you don’t know Christ!” He told of another meeting on another day in which the Pope spoke and also cited Jerome, “If you don’t know the Scriptures, you don’t know Christ!”
“Twice they said it, this cardinal and the pope! We Baptists sometimes think we are people of the word, but we are not the only ones! And we had best stay people of the word!” And then he looked me square in the eye, gripped my hand and said with great emphasis, “If you don’t know the Scriptures, you don’t know Christ!”
For all his stature and accomplishments, Noel was interested in the individual, taking time to seek out the newcomers and the young, to inquire after their faith and learn of their ministry. One left his presence feeling carefully listened to, challenged, and deeply encouraged.
When Noel learned of my own interest in Karl Barth, he told me of attending Barth’s 1962 lectures in Chicago. He had driven all night with a friend to get there, and upon arriving and hearing Barth’s slow English in a thick guttural accent, wondered how he would stay awake! The room for the first lecture was packed with several thousand people and Noel had had to stand in the rear of the auditorium, peering around a column. After a few minutes, however, he realised that Barth was making him think “great thoughts about God.” A few weeks later, he gave me a little parcel: it was his handwritten notes from that series of lectures, as well as his copy of the famed Time magazine featuring Barth on the cover. “You might find these of interest,” he said.
In his address at the funeral, Arthur Payne said of Noel, “he was a man in whose presence you became better than you are.” Even more insightful was the word spoken by his granddaughter about his life of prayer. He told her many times: “Your prayers are powerful; you can change the world with your prayers.” He was a man of regular, constant, fervent prayer.
A man of prayer. A man of the Word. A man of immense personal integrity and presence. A man of vision, devotion and compassion. A man tireless in his service of God and God’s people. Noel Vose has left us an example to follow and perhaps, a mantle to take up. His was an extraordinary life, a life well-lived. May we follow him, as he followed Christ.
Next week is Pentecost Sunday – perhaps this medieval hymn will help us prepare. Said to be written by Rabanus Maurus (c. 776-856), a Benedictine monk and archbishop of Mainz, the hymn has beautiful, faith-filled words, and here is chanted in the Latin:
Veni Creator Spiritus
Come, Holy Ghost, Creator blest,
and in our hearts take up Thy rest;
come with Thy grace and heav’nly aid,
To fill the hearts which Thou hast made.
O Comforter, to Thee we cry,
Thou heav’nly gift of God most high,
Thou Fount of life, and Fire of love,
and sweet anointing from above.
O Finger of the hand divine,
the sevenfold gifts of grace are thine;
true promise of the Father thou,
who dost the tongue with power endow.
Thy light to every sense impart,
and shed thy love in every heart;
thine own unfailing might supply
to strengthen our infirmity.
Drive far away our ghostly foe,
and thine abiding peace bestow;
if thou be our preventing Guide,
no evil can our steps betide.
Praise we the Father and the Son
and Holy Spirit with them One;
and may the Son on us bestow
the gifts that from the Spirit flow.
Liebe died yesterday, but I was 3000 kilometres away and couldn’t say goodbye.
She was 10½ years old, almost to the day, a gift from my family for Christmas 2005. We had been at our carols service on Christmas eve and Monica and the kids were keen to get me home for my present which was arriving that night.
We were in the family room at home and I had been blindfolded. When it was removed I looked around to see this present, though at first I couldn’t see anything. Was it a new picture on the wall? Something wrapped on the table? They were all around, almost bursting with excitement, shining, expectant; I couldn’t see why.
Then, out from under the table, ran a little black puppy: paws too big, ears flopped down, tail high.
“Bloody hell!”
The kids laughed. Monica was dismayed. This was so out-of-the-blue, so out-of-the-box I was totally unprepared, and (almost) speechless. My shocked response still provokes mirth with the children whenever it is remembered. Somehow two thoughts hit me simultaneously: our life—my life—had just changed, and, I needed to bond with this dog. I laid down on the floor.
It only took a moment. The little puppy was delighted to have something, someone it was bigger than! It was all over me, licking and jumping and licking some more (didn’t anyone tell it I am allergic to dog saliva? Apparently not.)
It took us a little while to settle on the name. I was learning German at the time and a German Shepherd should have a German name! (Although I did consider ‘Gracie’ for a while. One of the boys had started dating a Grace, however, and so didn’t really go for Gracie.) The boys thought a theological name would be appropriate and suggested ‘Bone-Hoeffer,’ but I finally decided on Liebe, or more formally, Liebchen (‘Sweetheart’).
And a sweetheart she was. Liebe became part of the family the moment she moved in, bringing much happiness with her from the very start. Liebe and I tramped all over the escarpment, up and down Lesmurdie Falls, Whistlepipe Gully, all through the hills. We explored the neighbourhood together, discovered new streets, chased rabbits and cats, sniffed every tree and weed and lamp-post and letterbox and rubbish bin and plant and dogs-bum we came across (well, she did…). She was always keen to be in the middle of anything and everything we were doing, loved going out with us, loved sticking her head out the window in the car, loved being inside when she was allowed, loved people, and loved us.
The thing about dogs is that they are such loyal friends, and even after we moved into the apartment and couldn’t keep her any longer, I would still go to see her, and she would roll onto her back for her tummy-rub, always glad to see me, always ready for a walk or a romp. As she aged the infernal arthritis became worse, and slowed her down somewhat, but I am grateful that in the end she didn’t become debilitated or crippled by it. I couldn’t have borne seeing her suffer.
And thank you Chris, Jess, Jeremiah and Levi for loving Liebe as we did and giving her such a good home. We were so thankful for that, and now especially so.
When I was a kid people used to say that dogs don’t go to heaven because they don’t have a soul. Whatever were they thinking?? Liebe, I think, had more soul than I do. She was intelligent. She could learn. She grew in understanding. She was clever. At times she was cunning, and yes, sometimes she abused her power—just ask Maddie, our cocker-spaniel. Liebe would block her from coming up the path to the house, just because she could! Lieb could be jealous! She could feel. She could be hurt. She could be shamed. She loved. She was affectionate. She understood and was present when someone in the house was sad or sick. She responded to stress, to joy. She could play. She could tease. She was sociable. She liked attention. She had soul.
One day there will be a new heaven and a new earth in which all is righteousness, joy, peace and love. It will be filled with animals because God loves his creatures. And if Paul’s word is true, that love is the greatest of the virtues, that it transcends the bounds of this life, that it lives on and forever, then perhaps that which is love and loved—Liebe—will also find a place there. I wouldn’t be surprised.
Best.Present.Ever.
Goodbye, old girl—and thank you for everything. I will always remember you.