I feel I'm being nudged to do one of three things.........
1. Associate Ministry.
2. Readership.
3. Sod all.
One of these options is quite attractive. One seems like a good idea and one could potentially be useful in its own way. Discussion of all options to follow.
Monday, 28 March 2011
Thank You Mr Honda...
I'd always wanted a Honda Goldwing. It's a big bike, in fact, it's probably the heaviest on the road, and it's got one of the biggest engines. It also has an armchair on top, a reasonably good stereo and even a lighter socket. Regrettably there isn't an ashtray. It's a joy to drive. After being knocked off the last bike(more information than you would care about here)by someone who allegedly said "how was I supposed to see them, they were wearing dark clothes" I went large and lit the bike up like a Christmas tree.
So it's lovely to drive, but whoever designed this thing never intended to maintain it. The air filter, a consumable part which on most cars and most bikes, is a five minute job to change requires three hours of tunneling to access. Then you've got another three hours putting the thing back together. In this photo I'm just about at the stage of fitting the filter. Lumps of motorbike litter the
garden, the hallway and the boot of the car. My knuckles are bleeding and I've managed to drop at least one screw into the void that is on top of the engine. Perhaps one day it will resurface.Vehicle designers should be forced to spend time actually working on their designs. I don't expect them to be able to strip the entire engine, but if you can't replace the consumables, ie the oil, water, tyres and filters, without the assistance of two mechanics then you should be sent back to the drawing board in disgrace.
Rant over. At least for another 20000 miles.
Now doesn't
that look better
So it's lovely to drive, but whoever designed this thing never intended to maintain it. The air filter, a consumable part which on most cars and most bikes, is a five minute job to change requires three hours of tunneling to access. Then you've got another three hours putting the thing back together. In this photo I'm just about at the stage of fitting the filter. Lumps of motorbike litter the
garden, the hallway and the boot of the car. My knuckles are bleeding and I've managed to drop at least one screw into the void that is on top of the engine. Perhaps one day it will resurface.Vehicle designers should be forced to spend time actually working on their designs. I don't expect them to be able to strip the entire engine, but if you can't replace the consumables, ie the oil, water, tyres and filters, without the assistance of two mechanics then you should be sent back to the drawing board in disgrace. Rant over. At least for another 20000 miles.
Now doesn't
that look better
Wednesday, 23 March 2011
The post that dare not speak its name...
There are gay Ministers past and present within the Church of Scotland. Always has been. Always will be. That's my opinion. And my opinion on the whole issue isn't going to make headlines because I'm a moderate. I'm not going to start throwing stools at anyone, and I'm not going to stand outside the assembly hall waving placards suggesting God hates... (There must be a different version of 1 John 4:8 that I'm not aware of - I didn't see hate mentioned) Us moderates don't get headlines.
The Office of National Statistics suggests that 1.5% of the population is either gay, lesbian or bisexual. (Source BBC News) So applying that to the 1300 or so ministers suggests there's nearly 20 people who some sectors of the kirk would not consider "normal". Whatever the approved version of normal is these days. And we've not even begun to consider the Deacons, Readers, and employees of this broad church. You would be hard pressed to fit 20 people in my living room, never mind my closet...
So a bit of background to myself. I worked for a well known holiday firm back in the mid nineties. I was transplanted from middle class Fife to a far off land south of the border. Not long after my 18th birthday I went from not knowing anyone who was gay (save for an evil rumour about a fellow school pupil) to working on a site where people were coming out left right and centre. People were very open about their sexuality, partly because in a closed environment like that there are no secrets but mainly because the walls of the staff accommodation were so thin you could hear your colleagues change their mind. On one memorable occasion, a visiting rugby team decided to see how thin the walls were and they did a running maul from one end of a block to another.
This was an environment where it was common to "pull" on a Friday night, spend the week having carefree sex before promising to be faithful as one half of the new couple departed on the Thursday. Lather, rinse, repeat for a whole season. It was funny towards the end of the season when multiple partners turned up on holiday, looking for the member of staff who would then spend his time keeping a very low profile... Not surprisingly, the STD clinic was kept busy...
So amongst this rampant infidelity, there were two blokes, John and Terry, who were different. Not because they were gay, but because they had a very long term, stable relationship. I'm guessing they were in their mid forties, had their own house off site, and were generally an ordinary couple. I didn't have a lot to do with them, as they worked a completely different schedule to me, but they were friendly enough. They were not in a frenzy, trying to entice young staff members over to the dark side - instead they were just another of the many faces you passed in the staff canteen. Two ordinary blokes.
One of the sadder tales concerned someone who worked on site for a short time. Brian was a little older than myself and was gay. One night, over a pint or two, Brian told a group of us how on more than one occasion he would be drinking in a gay bar when he would be propositioned by another man who would consider himself "straight" but just wanted to try sex with another man. A short, two worded statement ensued, ending in "off!" Apparently this is more common than you would realise. He was genuinely miserable that because he was gay he was considered as being a prostitute. Brian is just another ordinary bloke.
So there's three ordinary blokes. I never found out if they would consider themselves Christian or not, and at the time I was still finding my Christian feet. To me they helped show that everyone is different, and normal doesn't really exist. I probably got more of a life lesson from them than I've learned from many in authority in the church.
Looking at the bigger picture, LGBT people are being persecuted the world over. Shouldn't we as a church be campaigning to protect these people, rather than have a hissy fit about who gets to decide the hymns on a Sunday? Wouldn't that be a better use of the Assembly week? Have the people who are campaigning against gay ministers ever sat and had a friendly pint with a gay colleague? If so, what did they learn?
Of the 1300 ministers that are currently serving the church, please let me meet one who has not broken any of the Ten Commandments. (and being gay doesn't make it into the top 10.) There has only ever been one truly perfect minister, and for being such a decent person, we nailed him to a lump of wood. I like my ministers to start their sermons with "do as I say, not as I do" because I'm a sinner, they are a sinner and we're all imperfect before God.
Besides, I want to live a life that offends so many of the so called righteous, that I get protesters at my funeral.
All names changed , partly to protect identities, and partly because I can't for the life of me remember the real name of at least one of them.
The Office of National Statistics suggests that 1.5% of the population is either gay, lesbian or bisexual. (Source BBC News) So applying that to the 1300 or so ministers suggests there's nearly 20 people who some sectors of the kirk would not consider "normal". Whatever the approved version of normal is these days. And we've not even begun to consider the Deacons, Readers, and employees of this broad church. You would be hard pressed to fit 20 people in my living room, never mind my closet...
So a bit of background to myself. I worked for a well known holiday firm back in the mid nineties. I was transplanted from middle class Fife to a far off land south of the border. Not long after my 18th birthday I went from not knowing anyone who was gay (save for an evil rumour about a fellow school pupil) to working on a site where people were coming out left right and centre. People were very open about their sexuality, partly because in a closed environment like that there are no secrets but mainly because the walls of the staff accommodation were so thin you could hear your colleagues change their mind. On one memorable occasion, a visiting rugby team decided to see how thin the walls were and they did a running maul from one end of a block to another.
This was an environment where it was common to "pull" on a Friday night, spend the week having carefree sex before promising to be faithful as one half of the new couple departed on the Thursday. Lather, rinse, repeat for a whole season. It was funny towards the end of the season when multiple partners turned up on holiday, looking for the member of staff who would then spend his time keeping a very low profile... Not surprisingly, the STD clinic was kept busy...
So amongst this rampant infidelity, there were two blokes, John and Terry, who were different. Not because they were gay, but because they had a very long term, stable relationship. I'm guessing they were in their mid forties, had their own house off site, and were generally an ordinary couple. I didn't have a lot to do with them, as they worked a completely different schedule to me, but they were friendly enough. They were not in a frenzy, trying to entice young staff members over to the dark side - instead they were just another of the many faces you passed in the staff canteen. Two ordinary blokes.
One of the sadder tales concerned someone who worked on site for a short time. Brian was a little older than myself and was gay. One night, over a pint or two, Brian told a group of us how on more than one occasion he would be drinking in a gay bar when he would be propositioned by another man who would consider himself "straight" but just wanted to try sex with another man. A short, two worded statement ensued, ending in "off!" Apparently this is more common than you would realise. He was genuinely miserable that because he was gay he was considered as being a prostitute. Brian is just another ordinary bloke.
So there's three ordinary blokes. I never found out if they would consider themselves Christian or not, and at the time I was still finding my Christian feet. To me they helped show that everyone is different, and normal doesn't really exist. I probably got more of a life lesson from them than I've learned from many in authority in the church.
Looking at the bigger picture, LGBT people are being persecuted the world over. Shouldn't we as a church be campaigning to protect these people, rather than have a hissy fit about who gets to decide the hymns on a Sunday? Wouldn't that be a better use of the Assembly week? Have the people who are campaigning against gay ministers ever sat and had a friendly pint with a gay colleague? If so, what did they learn?
Of the 1300 ministers that are currently serving the church, please let me meet one who has not broken any of the Ten Commandments. (and being gay doesn't make it into the top 10.) There has only ever been one truly perfect minister, and for being such a decent person, we nailed him to a lump of wood. I like my ministers to start their sermons with "do as I say, not as I do" because I'm a sinner, they are a sinner and we're all imperfect before God.
Besides, I want to live a life that offends so many of the so called righteous, that I get protesters at my funeral.
All names changed , partly to protect identities, and partly because I can't for the life of me remember the real name of at least one of them.
Friday, 18 March 2011
3:16 Cafe perth
I kept forgetting about this one. 3:16 is the Salvation Army cafe on King Edward Street, Perth.
Very reasonably priced meals and cake served by friendly staff. It' a popular place, so share a table and make new friends. The menu changes regularly, so watch the specials board.
Open Tuesday to Saturday.
Very reasonably priced meals and cake served by friendly staff. It' a popular place, so share a table and make new friends. The menu changes regularly, so watch the specials board.
Open Tuesday to Saturday.
Sunday, 13 March 2011
Sympathy for the Devil
One of the lectionary readings for today was Matthew chapter 4 verses 1 to 11 or the temptation of Christ. We discussed this reading last year in our bible study group, and it was verse 5 that caught my attention in particular. In this, the Devil took Jesus up to the top of the temple and invited him to, for want of a better expression, take a run and jump.
So it got me thinking. Wouldn't the Devil's job have been a whole lot easier if Jesus had jumped and instead of the lifting up by angels, there was a short pause, with a resounding splat at the bottom. Perhaps even a puff of dust a la Wile E Coyote. There would certainly have been a lot more unredeemed souls for old Nick to get his teeth into. Or claws, or whatever he's got. (Let me know when you see him... ;-) ) Jesus trusted that he would have been lifted up, rather than having to prove the point.
But Jesus gave the Devil a put down. Nice try son. Better luck next time. He's a tricky old sod, that Devil. Goes with the territory I suppose.
So a little bit of sympathy, but not much, for the Devil.
Pleased to meet you. Hope you've guessed my name.
So it got me thinking. Wouldn't the Devil's job have been a whole lot easier if Jesus had jumped and instead of the lifting up by angels, there was a short pause, with a resounding splat at the bottom. Perhaps even a puff of dust a la Wile E Coyote. There would certainly have been a lot more unredeemed souls for old Nick to get his teeth into. Or claws, or whatever he's got. (Let me know when you see him... ;-) ) Jesus trusted that he would have been lifted up, rather than having to prove the point.
But Jesus gave the Devil a put down. Nice try son. Better luck next time. He's a tricky old sod, that Devil. Goes with the territory I suppose.
So a little bit of sympathy, but not much, for the Devil.
Pleased to meet you. Hope you've guessed my name.
Saturday, 12 March 2011
A new direction
Well this blog never really got off the ground. It has sat in blogger limbo for the past year or so for many reasons. The novelty probably wore off, and, to be frank, I couldn't be arsed. So rather than start a whole new blog for my new plans, I thought I'd blow the dust off this one.
Now I have the great honour of being the other half to Mrs Gerbil. Amongst her many other talents, she is an internationally read blogger (surprisingly popular on west coast USA), is a candidate in training for ministry within the Church of Scotland, and also makes exceedingly good cakes. So at some point in the next few years we are going to be leaving the Gerbil burrow and moving to pastures new. We'll be living in a manse somewhere (Bermuda perhaps?) and I'll have to learn exactly what the husband of a minister does to occupy his time. I'm not the type to bake cakes for coffee mornings, mainly because my cakes stink. (How about I do the Mrs Doyle, would you like a nice cup of tea?) Mrs Gerbil can drink enough tea to float the QE2, but after a while, I can see me getting the Father Jack response.
When she started the whole ministry process I promised to support her in whatever she wanted to do. I believe that she would be a great minister, as she genuinely cares about the people that she encounters, and she does preach a good service. One friend did comment that the service was good, as God got mentioned a few times - something he felt was lacking in his recent encounters with ministry. Whatever I do, I'm happy to follow along behind, as she is a much better person than I am.
But the thing is, if Mrs G is living in a manse, then I am living there also. And I'd feel a little guilty about living in God's other house if I didn't give something back as well.
The Church of Scotland is wanting to reduce the ministerial headcount over the next few years. Mrs Gerbil described it well in this post. We're in a position where ministers will probably have a charge that covers a number of parishes, with a varied team of assistant ministers, deacons, readers and elders all working together to deliver God's message. I'd like to think that amongst that mix there is a role for me. I really want to help. I want to use my talents, whatever they are, to support Mrs Gerbil in her ministry, and the wider community.
That's enough for now. Time for the prayerful reflection to begin.
Perfect timing. Dinner awaits!
Now I have the great honour of being the other half to Mrs Gerbil. Amongst her many other talents, she is an internationally read blogger (surprisingly popular on west coast USA), is a candidate in training for ministry within the Church of Scotland, and also makes exceedingly good cakes. So at some point in the next few years we are going to be leaving the Gerbil burrow and moving to pastures new. We'll be living in a manse somewhere (Bermuda perhaps?) and I'll have to learn exactly what the husband of a minister does to occupy his time. I'm not the type to bake cakes for coffee mornings, mainly because my cakes stink. (How about I do the Mrs Doyle, would you like a nice cup of tea?) Mrs Gerbil can drink enough tea to float the QE2, but after a while, I can see me getting the Father Jack response.
When she started the whole ministry process I promised to support her in whatever she wanted to do. I believe that she would be a great minister, as she genuinely cares about the people that she encounters, and she does preach a good service. One friend did comment that the service was good, as God got mentioned a few times - something he felt was lacking in his recent encounters with ministry. Whatever I do, I'm happy to follow along behind, as she is a much better person than I am.
But the thing is, if Mrs G is living in a manse, then I am living there also. And I'd feel a little guilty about living in God's other house if I didn't give something back as well.
The Church of Scotland is wanting to reduce the ministerial headcount over the next few years. Mrs Gerbil described it well in this post. We're in a position where ministers will probably have a charge that covers a number of parishes, with a varied team of assistant ministers, deacons, readers and elders all working together to deliver God's message. I'd like to think that amongst that mix there is a role for me. I really want to help. I want to use my talents, whatever they are, to support Mrs Gerbil in her ministry, and the wider community.
That's enough for now. Time for the prayerful reflection to begin.
Perfect timing. Dinner awaits!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)