Recently I had an episode of bitter complaint. Things were not going my way, and I grumbled my way through an afternoon, annoyed, (and annoying to be around).
Eventually I chose to take my complaint and download it into my journal….positioning myself in a sunny corner of my lounge on a quiet, crisp wintery afternoon.
This was my first step towards what became an experience of contentment, where I acknowledged that my complaint was rooted in a sense of ingratitude. As I began to write, I felt the angst begin to peel away, and as my attitude changed, enabled by a humbling confession of my true state, (I say humbling because it involved another human….always harder for me to confess to another than to God! – what’s with that?), my countenance changed, somehow brightened, and the world around me took on a new shape and colour. My surroundings in fact didn’t change, rather my view of them, as I dove into raw honesty and rose back into peace.

An interesting chain of events followed that week, which may have happened regardless of this experience, but had I not undergone this moment, I would have probably missed them as gifts offered to me that were nothing less than acts of Divine hospitality, expressed by others through gestures of generous kindness.

Since then I have tried to remind myself of all that I have been given and I am pulled towards gratitude. I read the daily paper and compare my life with others that really have something to complain about. I come away troubled, yet also thankful.
I climb into a warm bed every night and sleep secure. I get up in the morning and there is always something to eat for breakfast. I load the fire with wood in the evening and set it alight. I am warm. Being grateful for these things helps me gain perspective. I have been given so much. I am content.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “We pray for the big things and forget to give thanks for the ordinary, small (and yet really not small) gifts,” he said. We strive for the grand spiritual adventure, which we haven’t had, and neglect the many gifts from God that we do have. Bonhoeffer urges us to “be satisfied with the small measure of spiritual knowledge, experience, and love that has been given us.” Make a gratitude list.

My take on the story began about 30 years ago, and it has its beginnings in a sense of calling to a certain way of life, a Religious Vocation.
Initially it was someone else’s idea and dream, and because Greg and I were young and didn’t have many ideas of our own, (apart from a passion
to do what God wanted and with ears desperate to hear), we were ready to throw caution to the wind.
It turned out that the Trip was to be called Church Planting, one destination at a time, details to unfold along the way…
So by the time 1999 arrived, there were two other growing churches on the road behind us, and we found ourselves here at this destination, this time and place.
The first church was an act of obedience.
The second was a response to a crisis.
The third, Edge City Church, (not to be confused with ‘The Edge’, although we had to fight hard to shake that one off, as well as the ‘new kid on the block image) had a clearer mandate, a dream of something fresh and raw.
Each of these churches were God’s idea, and each were unique, taking root and shape in 3 decades, the 80’s, 90’s and the 2000’s.
The most consistent unit over the years was our nuclear family – to whom I am deeply grateful, and a few pets!
So Edge City Church began with a small group of friends who had similar dreams and desires for what a new millennium Church could look like, and the few foundations we knew we had to build on were our love for the next generation (we all had kids who we wanted to love the church), Worship, Spirit Life and the Prophetic grown in the midst of a healthy community or Village.

“Kids don’t try this without parental supervision” -
should be a warning sign posted on the door of a new church plant, because without a clear sense of God’s voice in the matter, the front line can be cold and cut throat.
They say at 7 years of Marriage couples dramatically increase the statistics for lasting into the twilight years together (throw a party!)
And they also say ‘Give me a boy, or girl at 7, and I will show you the man, or woman (now that’s scary!)
So at 7 we had a big celebration, (now that we were officially adults)
We made our plans to leave our home at St Stephens Presbyterian church, out from the shelter of the iconic wooden building that had been our home, and also the home of worshippers for a century or so, to make a new home in Kingsland, a new address and a new name.

“We were 7”!
We had made it and we were here to stay!

Now we are 12! (sounds like the title of a AA Milne book)
Almost teenagers! (hopefully through that stage)
And what we all see and experience now at George St has come out of years of commitment, determination, blood, sweat and tears (well maybe not much blood), and lots of fun and adventure on the way.

“Here’s Our Home”, EdgeKingsland.
So we hold our celebrations and festivals tightly, and maintain our tradition of honoring our milestones, our Birthdays, Camps and more recently our Worship Festivals.

Now we are 12!
We are making a name for ourselves (as adolescents do!)
And even though that was never the point, if people are taking notice, hopefully it’s of the fruit that we have harvested from seeds the Good Sower planted, the DNA in the seed that was dropped into the hearts of that original team. Hopefully they are enjoying the taste and the fragrance.
So thanks to all of the hard workers along the way, and to those who are new to the journey, welcome, and Happy Birthday.

Linda

Edge Birthday

“Crusade” events like Greg Laurie’s Auckland Harvest have tended to get a bit of bad press in Church circles over the years. I don’t know if its that we’re all too cool for school, or what it is, but heading along to the event last weekend certainly opened my eyes and challenged me about our attitudes to preaching the gospel.

If you ever had any doubts that people might want to come to something like this, you just had to be there on the first night of the event to see the masses turned away from the front doors for lack of space. I was one of them. 10,000 seats full and, I guess, a couple thousand turned away.

When I finally did make it in to the Sunday night event to get one of the few seats remaining (pinned to the roof along the uppermost row), what I found most refreshing was that there was never any sense that they were hiding the main purpose of it all from anyone. Before the artists even got up on stage (including our very own Dean McQuoid) they were showing big screen video excerpts from previous Harvest events and interviews with those who marked those events as a turning point in their lives and spoke about how they now lived for Jesus Christ. That theme continued right through to when Greg Laurie spoke and encouraged people to respond.

And they did respond. Some 2,700 plus over two nights. As I attempted to get down to floor to help connect the masses with the pre-prepared counsellors who had Bibles to hand out, I got stuck in two different stairwells for the number of people responding. We didn’t even make it to the floor of the arena because there were just too many, and ended up filtering out into the foyer to try and facilitate those connections.

And there it really struck home to me how the “workers are few”; there just was not enough people to engage with those who had responded to the message, to get their details and connect them to a church before they left.

Maybe it is because we don’t think people want to hear the gospel. Maybe we’re numb to the “inexpressible and glorious joy” that flows from the “salvation of our souls” (1 Peter 1:8-9). Whatever the case, attending an event like this is the perfect antidote and gave me hope that God still has “many people in this city” (Acts 18:10).

Mark Donovan

Sometimes we can think God is taking too long to answer our prayers. That can set us off into wondering whether God answers our prayers at all. Is he even listening? Doesn’t he know our need?

Of course he is, and of course he does. We have that assurance throughout scripture. Even the unjust judge in Luke 18:3-5 eventually gave the widow justice, and God is far more willing to respond than that.

But then why the delay?

J I Packer puts it this way:

“When we ask God for things, we always hope that they will be given straightaway. We humans are always in a hurry, but God sometimes keeps us waiting because he is not…God has his own time frame and his own plan, which reflects his exhaustive knowledge. He knows the best time at which to answer our prayers as well as the best way to do it…He knows what he is doing; he is working according to plan; it is for us to adjust to him, no the other way around.”

* This is part of a series of blogs by Mark Donovan based on thoughts arising from the book Praying, by J I Packer, which you can borrow from the Edge Library.

“This then is how you should pray”…

“Say… Our Father”…

When Jesus taught his lad’s how to pray, I love it that he started with the word “our” – he acknowledged the significance of standing in God’s presence together; with one-another. There’s power when people agree in faith together, where “two or more are gathered”.

So we’ll see you at 5:30 tonight for another ordinary hour of listening to God and agreeing together – prayer at it’s communal best.

Last Thursday at 6.I5am I got a bee sting. I haven’t had one of these for about 40 years, yet to my amazement my reaction and response was as mature as any 10 year old experiencing the same thing. I forgot how much these things hurt!
How do you get a bee sting at 6.15am I hear you say (was there a bee in
her bed?). Well, turns out it was sheltering in my shoe at the back door
and when I went outside to let our dog off for a run, I slipped my shoe
on and got belted by this tiny furry little critter that packed such a punch it had me crying like a baby.
What made matters worse was that I had to be in the city by 7am and
to do that I had to be on the road by 6.25, otherwise I would be caught
peak hour traffic. On top of that, Greg was heading to the airport at the
same time, so all he could offer in the way of care and support was an
anti-histamine before sailing away into the dark, leaving me to
fend for myself. What to do, what to do?!!?
My choices were clear as I writhed in pain, driving, my tender swelling
right foot delicately pressing the accelerator. I could take either a right turn and head toward Lincoln Road A & E where I visualized raised eyebrows of medical staff whose time I was taking up over a simple little bee sting, or take a left turn and head towards the city where my faithful praying friends would be waiting for me, who could offer
me the solace and sympathy that I needed (more than anything else if the truth be told).
I chose the left turn. And for the next 30 minutes I was wracked with anxiety, fully convinced that all of my worst fears would come upon me; the most dramatic that I would fall into anaphalactic shock, cause an accident, subjecting me to the curses of people as I made them all late for work. My imagination took over! It was almost too much…
So, after praying without ceasing, even asking God to open up the way
for me through the traffic (a red sea moment), I arrived, alive of course,
and fell into the black cushions in the prayer room and the warmth and
consolation of my friends.
It wasn’t like the pain subsided, (it hurt like hell all day!) but all of a sudden I felt much better.
The power of Community. It was well with my Soul.

Linda

A few months have past since the last major quake in February.  We have gotten on with our lives as normal, while the people in that city are still picking through the rubble of their broken world.  We all have different responses when it comes to dealing with crisis.  And it’s always easy to offer advice or comment when we are not directly in the line of fire that others are facing.

Our online conversation sites are a breeding ground for  shallow platitudes and christian rhetoric, and I’m not sure that those on the receiving end are left feeling grateful or  annoyed.

I am not making comment on the validity or genuine nature of  the black and white sentiments that we share, and am aware that in tragic times words are sometimes the only things we can access, when we are far away.

It is a bizarre thought that once again, at one end of this small island nation of ours the ground is shaking – emptying it’s bowels onto the once paved and grassed earth; buildings crumbling – robbing us of the beauty that reminds us of a huge part of our nations history;  homes – now just houses that are red stickered and empty;  winter throws it’s icy blanket across a city in the dark, and people watch dazed, suspended in a time-warp, wondering what their future looks like.

What is our response to be?

It’s easy to say “Fear not!” when we are standing on  firm, steady  ground.   These are just words, (even though drawn from the text) if not followed by some kind of action.

Today the Baptist Church of NZ is asking for people to buy a gas heater, that will be delivered to the people of ChCh…and various other organisations around the country are continuing to resource, serve and care.

Consider how you might be able to be part of these ongoing support systems.

This is ‘thinking of you Christchurch’ with skin on. This is remembering with action. These are responses we can make, that make our ‘Peace be with You’ comments come alive.

Linda

Psalm 145 ‘Every day I will praise you and extol your name for ever and ever’

I started today caught up with the tasks and responsibilities of another week. Then this verse caught my attention.
Our circumstances often shape our feelings and sometimes……..often we need to be deliberate to break out of what can become a melancholic routine and remember the faithfulness of God, every day remember His goodness, every day remember His provision, every day His promises, every day His greatness…….every day allow ourselves a moment to remember and for that memory to shape our reality and the possibilities of a new day.