I read a brief account about Joan of Arc last night. It was an amazing, almost unbelievable modern example of someone who not only had faith in something, but the boldness and courage to follow through on this faith to make an alternative future for herself and her fellow countrymen.

Some of the notable writers and artists in history have been captivated by her life; William Shakespeare, Giuseppe Verdi, George Bernard Shaw, Danti Gabriel Rossetti.

Her story challenged some key aspects of behaviour in her society; a women in her teens in charge of an army at a time when women had no say in their futures (even whom they would marry), someone willing to serve something greater than themselves when those in power were intent in plotting their own success for more power and control. She even wore mens clothing (which was one of the charges larger brought against her at her trial)!

So many parallels in her story to those of Deborah and the other Judges you read about in the bible. When the Spirit of God was upon them, no one is disqualified, nothing was impossible and they had the courage to follow through on their cause, even to death.

Faith is a powerful thing; when it springs up in the heart of a peasant girl in rural France, when it is only the size of a mustard seed within our soul. Faith remains alive today and can prove as powerful as in the accounts of old we read about.

As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.

From time to time when the mood takes me and such a mood aligns with the available space, I go for a run through the Waitakere ranges.
Last weekend on such an occasion I stopped to rest on one of the cliff tops just south of Piha. Far north I could make out the sands of Muriwai and then turning south I saw the dunes stretch down the coast past Karekare.
In this isolated spot the verse above from Psalm 103 sprung up out of my soul. I never really connected to this imagery of east and west before because I always thought, I may be separated from my transgressions but they are still out there somewhere, waiting to haunt me at some point when I least expect or want.
But looking up at Muriwai on the horizon, I realized the beauty of distance. While I knew the beach was there, I could not identify any detail on it and whatever was going on there or lay on it’s shores had no relevance or connection to me where I was standing at that point in time, high on the cliff tops, overlooking the Tasman Sea.
This was a Eucharist moment, when the landscape before me mapped out what God has done for me. He remembered I am dust and showed love and compassion upon me by taking the darkest parts of me and separating them out where they no longer have context with who I am………and in response I remembered this beautiful hymn by Frederick Lehman:

The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell;
It goes beyond the highest star,
And reaches to the lowest hell;
The guilty pair, bowed down with care,
God gave His Son to win;
His erring child He reconciled,
And pardoned from his sin.

Oh, love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure—
The saints’ and angels’ song.

When hoary time shall pass away,
And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,
When men who here refuse to pray,
On rocks and hills and mountains call,
God’s love so sure, shall still endure,
All measureless and strong;
Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—
The saints’ and angels’ song.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.

What a great festival over the weekend. It was great to have so many of us together over 3 days, eating, sleeping and having fun together. So many highlights but to pick a couple, it was great to see my boys playing touch with the guys and holding their own (they are still talking about it!) and while the ridiculously late nights have taken their toll on me, the adrenalin pumped games of scum were too good to skip out on (hate that consecutive rule!). And how much fun was Sunday night!

Till next year!

Feels like a bit of thud as we get back into the normality of our routines again, especially after the huge RWC final. This Sunday we’ll be doing a bit of reminiscing over camp, share our stories and reflecting on some memorable moments……

Camp fever is upon us as we count down to one of the best festivals in the the Edge calendar. Bunk beds, catering en mass, duties, exercising the table tennis demons, playing mini golf with the kids along with the fun and silliness of home grown camp games blended with worship, a family meeting and baptisms; a kaleidoscope of family life that shapes us, connects us, and strengthens the foundations of us as a community like nothing else can.

I look forward to seeing you all out there this weekend and the memories we will add to.

Let the carnival begin!

- SCHEDULE -

-Friday-
Regos open 4.30PM
Cafe & Live Music all afternoon.
(Note no dinner is provided by camp on Friday night. However there will be dinner available from the cafe, all proceeds going towards community missions.)
RWC Bronze Final – 8PM

-Saturday-
Seminars 9.30AM
Carnival 2.30 PM
Worship 7.30PM

-Sunday-
Family Meeting 10.00AM
Mad Hatters Tea Party 3.30 PM
Baptisms 4.30PM
RWC FINAL! 8PM

A little while back something crystallized for me. God was interested in only one thing, “How well do I love?”

Love is the great leveler. Maybe our level of love, compassion and mercy is the true measure of spirituality. The true measure of authentic worship. The activity… ANY activity meant squat UNLESS it was wrapped in love.

How do we know we are truly growing spiritually? By the amount of time praying? Healing the sick? Worshiping? Level of involvement in Church? Authority? Prophetic ability? Number of souls saved? Preaching?

I know that Jesus’ harshest words were for the people that had the external stuff down, but had lost compassion and mercy. It cuts me to the core, because I feel that maybe over the years my capacity to love has decreased not increased. Lord I want to see it your way!

The fact is, the way I see it is skewed. If I met a guy who spoke in tongues of men and of angels, had the gift of prophecy, could fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, had faith that could literally move mountains, gave all he had to the poor and surrendered his body in martyrdom, I would definitely be impressed by a dude like that, I would say that there is one incredibly powerful man of God. But God says, if love is missing, he is nothing.

1 Corinthians 13:1-3
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.
…And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Dean McQuoid

I was rather inspired the other day when I read the narrative of the Widow’s Oil. It is the story in 2 Kings, chapter 4 which tells how God performed a miracle through Elisha to help out a poor widow in danger of losing her sons to slavery because of the debt accumulated by her late husband. The line that caught my attention was: ‘Go round and ask all your neighbours for empty jars. Don’t ask for just a few.’ There was an element of faith and expectation in Elisha that was bold and confident.

Expectation is so easily defined by our routine, daily experiences that can weaken what perhaps God wants to do, can do or is doing in our lives without us realising it. This story challenged me to review my expectations, not in myself, not in my circumstance, but in God.

Often the expectations we have are focused on ourselves; “I expect this or that out of life.” This is particularly true in the west where there is an air of entitlement, which cheapens the power of faith in what we expect. Interestingly though, Elisha was not focused on his own needs or dreams but instead those of the widow.

It is amazing what God is doing amongst us as a community and that a little ‘oil’ in His hands (a little faith, a small investment, a conversation, a little honesty, or a simple hug) goes a long way to bring prosperity, life and well being to others.

It brings new meaning to that saying ‘a little goes a long way’.

I took advantage of the wet weather on Monday and visited the Art Gallery. It was great to be back in a building dedicated to image, form and colour. It’s a bit like a library really; a place housing a huge range of topic, thought and expression. The titles of the works are varied; Painting No 1, Afternoon Coffee, Jubilation, Marriage, Tui over Kauri Trees and Woman In A Black Hat, to name a few. All were full of conversation, reflecting the thoughts and contemplation of artists daring to speak.

Although the only sound I could hear as I strolled from room to room was that of foot steps on the wooden gallery floors, each room was loud with conversation as the pieces of art spoke there story; provoking thought, shaping my ideas, releasing imagination and colour into my ordinary and overcast day and generally pulling me into another world.

It made a nice change from listening to someone speak or turning the pages of a book.

To all the artists out there, I salute you!

Have you ever jammed your finger in a door? Yes, there’s the recall! That initial sting…….that sting that lingers, and lingers. You shake your hand, hold your finger and stare at it in horror and consternation like it’s about to drop off. Most have been there right?
Well I survived that experience. The pleasure of my finger tip turning black and nasty looking. Enduring the long process of waiting for the nail to start to came away from your finger……..delightful!
I noticed it today after finishing a run and realized how much it had recovered……with time, care and patience nature had run it’s course and it was now closer to resembling a ‘normal’ looking finger once more.
So why am I sharing this?
We often we hear things on Sunday, take it away and wonder how this connects for us personally.
Greg’s focus on the parable of the Good Samaritan was a wonderful look at a narrative that is all too familiar, despite it’s powerful message.
So I finish my run and then POW! Just like a classic Batman moment, I see it, I get it, I personalise it.
In my traumatized finger I see the message of the Good Samaritan. It’s easy to journey with people who are clean, tidy and manicured. But to engage with and commit yourself to people who are messy, dark and painful is another matter, a Samaritan matter, and a matter Jesus challenged us with in his parable.
Yes it costs, but given some attention and care, in time people heal and hearts and minds are restored……..just like my finger. We just need to be willing to go the distance and have faith in the time and care we give away.

Beware of prostitutes and look out for pigs.