It was strange, walking through a shopping complex to reach a church, but on this night, that’s what I was doing. A web search for “7pm service” had shown me St Johns Lutheran church, nestled in the middle of Southbank. It was a wet night, and as I walked across the forecourt near the church, I was amazed at how beautiful it was. Sitting amongst corporate headquarters and millions of dollars of high priced shopping precinct was a traditional looking church, a round building with a 2 storey ceiling, a balcony around the edge housing the organ and extra seating overlooking the sanctuary.
I thought about Jesus, and the way he took his ministry with the poor, the prostitutes – the outsiders, and he took it to the temple, to the Pharisees, the tax collectors. This church was sitting here, and that night, quite literally, as a shining light amongst a world of greed. But also, amongst a collection of modern architecture, the forecourt leading up to the church still looked like a church. The new world versus the old.
Walking in, the place was packed, barely a spare seat, which I soon found out was because of a visiting school group from Concordia College in South Australia – they’d brought 3 choirs and a string orchestra group – but more about that later.
Somehow in my travels I seemed to keep finding myself in churches for Baptisms – which is great by me because I love getting to hear peoples stories. It was a person who had come to faith through St Johns involvement in Uni Campus ministries, and a great way to hear about the effectiveness of the church. It was also a communion service, and I was able to witness for my first time, a particular older church tradition, singing as the Eucharist is taken. It was very cool to be a part of, and the pastor made it clear that all who believed in Jesus were welcome to take part. The sermon was quite good, short and relevant, and the hymns sung were quite traditional.
But interspersed throughout the service, Concordia College had a hand in really making this visit an interesting experience. Two of the choirs performed gospel songs – as seems tradition these days for any gospel group, we had ‘Joyful, Joyful’ as rendered in Sister Act, and also a song called ‘He never failed me yet’. Both were uplifting, hand clapping foot stomping moments, a great experience of joy in worship to God that the whole congregation got into. And to conclude the service, the 16 piece string orchestra performed for us. The song was instantly recognisable to me – but not one I’d ever heard in church before – stairway to heaven, and gosh was it well played.
After the service I took a walk through the CBD to reflect – I’d been really amazed by the way this church had taken tradition and thrown in modernity. Their worship was a seamless mix of the two, giving respect to their past, but living in the now, and that seemed to fit perfectly with who they are and where they were located. I reflected in my own life that there are parts of my faith and my service that I should never let go of, and ways to do things that should stay the same – always – but that there should also be room to alter my ideas, and incorporate new ways of thinking about God.
Showing posts with label The Journey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Journey. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
Mt Buffalo September 22-23 2006
I cruised down the mountain, stopping to enjoy the view and appreciate what I’d just done a couple of times and headed into Bright for a coke. As I drove into the Buckland Valley, it was beginning to get dark. There were two parks marked on my maps as having toilets and Barbecues, but as I drove up to each, I spotted very clear ‘no camping’ signs. My last resort was a place marked as a picnic ground, just near where the road fords the river – otherwise, it was going to be tent next to the car on the roadside. I needn’t have worried. As I rounded the corner, the picnic site turned out to be several acres divided into six campsites, with lots of beautiful green grass, a fireplace in the centre of each, and a toilet block. Fresh water from the river at the ford, and plenty of firewood. I set up the tent, gathered some wood and lit a huge fire. I sat up for a while, reading and listening to music, before grabbing a very relaxed night’s sleep.
I woke up feeling very fresh, and realising that it would be far easier to stay the night in the same place, I planned a loop walk, along the river, up over a firebreak, and looping back onto a four wheel drive trail. I packed everything either into the pack (A nice dummy pack – lunch and water, a few odds and ends, at about 15kg) or back into the car, leaving just my firewood pile, the tent, and my sleeping gear. I began walking but soon realised that the firebreak was far too overgrown to be able to walk safely, so instead decided to take a lazy walk through the valley, with the road following the riverbed most of the way. There was a nice dam where I stopped and reloaded my water bottles and took a small break, and then crossed the bridge and headed along the road.
It just became a flat haul, all day. It was nice, just following the road through forest and farmland. There was fairly frequent traffic, most of whom I saw twice in the day for a friendly was, and some chit-chat with local farmers. It was sunny, in he low 20’s scale of things, and the sun spattered through the leafy cover of the trees that lined the road. I somehow still had power in the iPod, so spent the morning listening to stand up comedy and U2 live. My occasional glimpses of the river tempted me to climb down and take a swim, but although I was never more than 100 metres from it, it was just a touch too hard to get down there – or back. By 2 oclock, I had reached the 20 k mark from where I began, and so I had lunch, and then turned and walked back. I made good time, up until I reached the Dam. I stopped to get a drink, and suddenly my nose was bleeding. I sat there for about ½ an hour while it bled out, and by the time I resumed my walk, with 5 kilometres to go, I was decided. I reached the campsite, took a toilet stop and freshened up, then loaded my sleeping gear, and tent, into the car whole, and got driving. I was in radio reception just in time for the kick off in the rugby league semi final, and spent the drive home listening to the Storm win in style. I returned home, tired, but satisfied – a mountain climbed 80 kilometres hiked, and a new sense of my relationship with God. Anything I dream, I can do. I just have to face the challenges that will come bravely. I need to find my rhythm and keep walking, with trust that my God will walk with me to the end.
I woke up feeling very fresh, and realising that it would be far easier to stay the night in the same place, I planned a loop walk, along the river, up over a firebreak, and looping back onto a four wheel drive trail. I packed everything either into the pack (A nice dummy pack – lunch and water, a few odds and ends, at about 15kg) or back into the car, leaving just my firewood pile, the tent, and my sleeping gear. I began walking but soon realised that the firebreak was far too overgrown to be able to walk safely, so instead decided to take a lazy walk through the valley, with the road following the riverbed most of the way. There was a nice dam where I stopped and reloaded my water bottles and took a small break, and then crossed the bridge and headed along the road.
It just became a flat haul, all day. It was nice, just following the road through forest and farmland. There was fairly frequent traffic, most of whom I saw twice in the day for a friendly was, and some chit-chat with local farmers. It was sunny, in he low 20’s scale of things, and the sun spattered through the leafy cover of the trees that lined the road. I somehow still had power in the iPod, so spent the morning listening to stand up comedy and U2 live. My occasional glimpses of the river tempted me to climb down and take a swim, but although I was never more than 100 metres from it, it was just a touch too hard to get down there – or back. By 2 oclock, I had reached the 20 k mark from where I began, and so I had lunch, and then turned and walked back. I made good time, up until I reached the Dam. I stopped to get a drink, and suddenly my nose was bleeding. I sat there for about ½ an hour while it bled out, and by the time I resumed my walk, with 5 kilometres to go, I was decided. I reached the campsite, took a toilet stop and freshened up, then loaded my sleeping gear, and tent, into the car whole, and got driving. I was in radio reception just in time for the kick off in the rugby league semi final, and spent the drive home listening to the Storm win in style. I returned home, tired, but satisfied – a mountain climbed 80 kilometres hiked, and a new sense of my relationship with God. Anything I dream, I can do. I just have to face the challenges that will come bravely. I need to find my rhythm and keep walking, with trust that my God will walk with me to the end.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Mt Buffalo September 21-22 2006
Finding the only campsite on the mountain closed for winter, I decided to head for the motel on the south end of the plateau, but that too was closed. I decided I could probably get away with another night of camping on the mountain, and eventually decided that the saddle next to one of the main climbs was best – the road cuts between the climb to the hump and another ridge, there was an area to park and a toilet block, and a large grassy area. I had something to eat and grabbed my iPod, sleeping bag and beanie, and found a nice soft clump of grass. It may have been down near 0 out there, but as long as I kept my sleeping bag pulled tight, and my face turned away from the wind, I was toasty warm. Lying under a cloudless sky, the heaven were open before me, and as I stared into the milky way counting shooting stars, I listened to Gustav Holsts ‘ the planets’ and spent some great time in prayer and reflection, peace found in the vast wilderness.
In the morning I got up earlyish and headed back to the park near the chalet to freshen up and have breakfast. I then drove back to the saddle, parked my car, and loading my pack began my ascent. With a random selection of songs that all focused on imagining and dreaming, “If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it, anything you want to, do it, want to change the world – there’s nothing to it”. I climbed through the arched corridor of trees, around the base of the Cathedral, a stunning rock formation and I began the final haul up to the top of the mountain. Scrambling over boulders, I finally reached it, the top. With the wind buffeting me, I reached the top and shouted with exhilaration. I praised God, I mocked Satan. I had made it. I had climbed my mountain, both physically, and metaphorically. I took off my pack, and grabbed my bible and sat reading for a while, before taking some photos, enjoying a 360 degree view of Vittoria’s high country. I said a prayer, and then headed back down. In the afternoon, I went on some small day walk loops, around the underground river, down to Mackenzie falls, and to the sentinel. Driving back down the mountain, I felt satisfied, and after walking another 12 kilometres for the day, was looking forward to some rest
In the morning I got up earlyish and headed back to the park near the chalet to freshen up and have breakfast. I then drove back to the saddle, parked my car, and loading my pack began my ascent. With a random selection of songs that all focused on imagining and dreaming, “If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it, anything you want to, do it, want to change the world – there’s nothing to it”. I climbed through the arched corridor of trees, around the base of the Cathedral, a stunning rock formation and I began the final haul up to the top of the mountain. Scrambling over boulders, I finally reached it, the top. With the wind buffeting me, I reached the top and shouted with exhilaration. I praised God, I mocked Satan. I had made it. I had climbed my mountain, both physically, and metaphorically. I took off my pack, and grabbed my bible and sat reading for a while, before taking some photos, enjoying a 360 degree view of Vittoria’s high country. I said a prayer, and then headed back down. In the afternoon, I went on some small day walk loops, around the underground river, down to Mackenzie falls, and to the sentinel. Driving back down the mountain, I felt satisfied, and after walking another 12 kilometres for the day, was looking forward to some rest
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Mt Buffalo September 20-21 2006
Hiking solo for 4 days? Sounded like more than I could handle. Not the hiking, the solo. I like people, I like interaction. But I felt God calling me to the wilderness, like you wouldn’t believe. In the middle of a church service he gave me a picture, of myself standing on a peak above many other mountains, his kingdom stretched before me, and he simply said ‘Go’. How could I not go?
So I planned my trip. Up and over Mount Buffalo from Thursday to Sunday. I drove up Wednesday night, met my parents and let them buy me lunch in Benalla, and then said goodbye to human interaction. I made it to the foot of Buffalo at around 4 so thought, ‘might as well get going’ and set out to see how far I could get up by sunset. Problem was, I’d looked at the map and seen that by the road, it was 24 k’s up the mountain – easily one day’s worth of walking. It didn’t occur to me that I would also be climbing the 1 ½ k’s from the park entrance. So I chucked on my overstuffed pack and began walking along the road. I had the camera out, so my travelling companion (a garden gnome) and I took a few nice photos along the way. By sunset I had hiked around ten k’s, but pushed on through the dark a little further til I reached a picnic ground, where I set up my tent near a fire place. I scrounged some wood and lit a fire, but after not too long, I retreated to my tent and went to sleep.
I got started early the next morning (partly because I wasn’t in a legit campsite and dint want to get in trouble) and got started again, moving off the road and onto the trail proper, to begin moving up the face of this mountain. A lot of the trail was granite boulder, but the views from certain points were amazing, down into the valleys. I had my iPod, which helped me pass the time, a soundtrack of live albums and musicals. At midday, after walking nine kilometres, and going up 1 kilometre, I was exhausted and on the last bunch of steps that I climbed to reach the plateau, my right knee was clicking in and out of place. Saying goodbye to my plans of ‘wilderness’ I threw my pack down at the door of the chalet, walked into the café and ordered a chicken salad, a coke and bought a newspaper. For the next hour I relaxed in the civility of the café, but realised I would need to do something about my accommodation for the night. I asked nicely if I could leave my pack behind, and in the next 3 hours with just a daypack, jogged the 12 k’s back down the mountain to my car. I picked up my pack, drove to the campsite on the mountain, only to find it was closed. Arggh what was I going to do?
So I planned my trip. Up and over Mount Buffalo from Thursday to Sunday. I drove up Wednesday night, met my parents and let them buy me lunch in Benalla, and then said goodbye to human interaction. I made it to the foot of Buffalo at around 4 so thought, ‘might as well get going’ and set out to see how far I could get up by sunset. Problem was, I’d looked at the map and seen that by the road, it was 24 k’s up the mountain – easily one day’s worth of walking. It didn’t occur to me that I would also be climbing the 1 ½ k’s from the park entrance. So I chucked on my overstuffed pack and began walking along the road. I had the camera out, so my travelling companion (a garden gnome) and I took a few nice photos along the way. By sunset I had hiked around ten k’s, but pushed on through the dark a little further til I reached a picnic ground, where I set up my tent near a fire place. I scrounged some wood and lit a fire, but after not too long, I retreated to my tent and went to sleep.
I got started early the next morning (partly because I wasn’t in a legit campsite and dint want to get in trouble) and got started again, moving off the road and onto the trail proper, to begin moving up the face of this mountain. A lot of the trail was granite boulder, but the views from certain points were amazing, down into the valleys. I had my iPod, which helped me pass the time, a soundtrack of live albums and musicals. At midday, after walking nine kilometres, and going up 1 kilometre, I was exhausted and on the last bunch of steps that I climbed to reach the plateau, my right knee was clicking in and out of place. Saying goodbye to my plans of ‘wilderness’ I threw my pack down at the door of the chalet, walked into the café and ordered a chicken salad, a coke and bought a newspaper. For the next hour I relaxed in the civility of the café, but realised I would need to do something about my accommodation for the night. I asked nicely if I could leave my pack behind, and in the next 3 hours with just a daypack, jogged the 12 k’s back down the mountain to my car. I picked up my pack, drove to the campsite on the mountain, only to find it was closed. Arggh what was I going to do?
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Gospel Chapel: Sunday April 30 2006
30 April 2006
An invitation to a friend’s church, and a reunion with my old coffee shop team took me to a gospel chapel, traditionally a brethren style church. Of course, it wasn’t to be a typical brethren service – there was a woman preaching. Walking in to any other church, at least for me at that time, was strange. I was the guy who was reliable at being at my own church morning and night every week. It was where I was meant to feel comfortable.
But I walked in, and recognised no-one. Spotting a good pew half way down the hall with no one else in it, I took a seat. It was typical of our old church buiding – low roof, yellow carpet, cream colored walls. A stage barely raised. A nice, comfortable little building. There was music on cd playing, and I spent a few minutes just relaxing. I didn’t have to greet anyone, I didn’t feel compelled to do a head count, or make sure there were attendants for the offering. After a few minutes, some friends came in and as the service started we engaged in a little small talk, the classic ‘Hey, how are you” chat.
The service wasn’t particularly special – the music was tame, the sermon wasn’t anything new to me, the bible reading was one that I know well. But there was something different in church that night, something very special to me. For the first in a longish time for me in church services, I worshipped – openly and wholeheartedly. When the service ended, the fellowship meant something to me. We all went out for dinner, and it felt good to be talking with these people. We shared, we prayed, and we mucked around a heck of a lot.
This had been a night like I hadn’t felt in my own church in a while – in my own quiet times, I still felt great ways of worship, I hadn’t actually felt God’s deliberate presence for a while. In our prayer meetings, I knew God was answering us, but in my own heart wondered if God was listening. I never doubted Gods presence, his authority, his majesty – but in my heart, I doubted his love. This night was different. This felt like church should. Unencumbered by the responsibilities of servant hood, I found interaction.
An invitation to a friend’s church, and a reunion with my old coffee shop team took me to a gospel chapel, traditionally a brethren style church. Of course, it wasn’t to be a typical brethren service – there was a woman preaching. Walking in to any other church, at least for me at that time, was strange. I was the guy who was reliable at being at my own church morning and night every week. It was where I was meant to feel comfortable.
But I walked in, and recognised no-one. Spotting a good pew half way down the hall with no one else in it, I took a seat. It was typical of our old church buiding – low roof, yellow carpet, cream colored walls. A stage barely raised. A nice, comfortable little building. There was music on cd playing, and I spent a few minutes just relaxing. I didn’t have to greet anyone, I didn’t feel compelled to do a head count, or make sure there were attendants for the offering. After a few minutes, some friends came in and as the service started we engaged in a little small talk, the classic ‘Hey, how are you” chat.
The service wasn’t particularly special – the music was tame, the sermon wasn’t anything new to me, the bible reading was one that I know well. But there was something different in church that night, something very special to me. For the first in a longish time for me in church services, I worshipped – openly and wholeheartedly. When the service ended, the fellowship meant something to me. We all went out for dinner, and it felt good to be talking with these people. We shared, we prayed, and we mucked around a heck of a lot.
This had been a night like I hadn’t felt in my own church in a while – in my own quiet times, I still felt great ways of worship, I hadn’t actually felt God’s deliberate presence for a while. In our prayer meetings, I knew God was answering us, but in my own heart wondered if God was listening. I never doubted Gods presence, his authority, his majesty – but in my heart, I doubted his love. This night was different. This felt like church should. Unencumbered by the responsibilities of servant hood, I found interaction.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
The Beach: Sunday November 12, 2006
I've got this whole journey to walkback through. I contemplated starting now and working backwards, also starting at the beginning and working towards the end. It just didnt seem right, with what I've felt about each step. I'll start with some of the more recent steps, and I'm guessing it will end with the first step. Between here and there, I'll just tell whichever story seems appropriate at the time. Come, take a walk with me.
How refreshing has this rain been? I couldnt help myself last night - after church I drove down to the beach to watch that storm come in . The sky was black, the air was warm, and the rain was that big sploshy kind (what a technical definition!) It was so nice to just kick back, put on some good music and feel it all. There was electricity in the air, and suddenly the sky lit up. The whole sky, in a silvery flash it went from black, dark and bleak outside to dazzling day. It was beautiful, but it was the huge crack of thunder that followed which really got my attention. It's been a while since we've felt a good thunderstorm. That first roll of thunder shook everything; God was stamping his ownership on that storm. This rain is nothing compared to what we need to solve our problems, but it is an improvement, and November is shaping up to be a pretty good month for rainfall. We've spent weeks praying for a break to the drought.As I watched that display come in over the bay last night, the light show in the sky, and felt fresh rain wash over my face, I knew that God was giving an answer, "Stay strong, pray continually. I am with you. When you suffer, I suffer with you. When you are longing, I am longing with you. When you are alone, I am by your side. When you are discouraged, I am your hope!".
For me this worked on more than one level. I'd had such a good week - an eye opening one, with a lot of lessons that God had been teaching me over different time frames (weeks, months, years) coming together. It was like I'd been weathering a storm for so long. At times I'd raged against God. At times I'd wept. I knew that God was never away from me, but it often felt like he was turning his face from me. Hope and faith were all that kept me going through the worst and most stormy times.
As the storm cleared, a peaceful night sky settled. Stars glimmered through. In the same way a peace settled in my heart. Hope shone forth. I thought about the old days of sailing ships, how in a storm, they dropped sails, tied themselves down and let the storm do its worst. When the sky cleared again afterward, the navigator would look for the first stars to come through, and figure out where they had been blown to. After the week I had just come through, it was like that. I'd weathered the storm, and now the stars were showing me the way home.
How refreshing has this rain been? I couldnt help myself last night - after church I drove down to the beach to watch that storm come in . The sky was black, the air was warm, and the rain was that big sploshy kind (what a technical definition!) It was so nice to just kick back, put on some good music and feel it all. There was electricity in the air, and suddenly the sky lit up. The whole sky, in a silvery flash it went from black, dark and bleak outside to dazzling day. It was beautiful, but it was the huge crack of thunder that followed which really got my attention. It's been a while since we've felt a good thunderstorm. That first roll of thunder shook everything; God was stamping his ownership on that storm. This rain is nothing compared to what we need to solve our problems, but it is an improvement, and November is shaping up to be a pretty good month for rainfall. We've spent weeks praying for a break to the drought.As I watched that display come in over the bay last night, the light show in the sky, and felt fresh rain wash over my face, I knew that God was giving an answer, "Stay strong, pray continually. I am with you. When you suffer, I suffer with you. When you are longing, I am longing with you. When you are alone, I am by your side. When you are discouraged, I am your hope!".
For me this worked on more than one level. I'd had such a good week - an eye opening one, with a lot of lessons that God had been teaching me over different time frames (weeks, months, years) coming together. It was like I'd been weathering a storm for so long. At times I'd raged against God. At times I'd wept. I knew that God was never away from me, but it often felt like he was turning his face from me. Hope and faith were all that kept me going through the worst and most stormy times.
As the storm cleared, a peaceful night sky settled. Stars glimmered through. In the same way a peace settled in my heart. Hope shone forth. I thought about the old days of sailing ships, how in a storm, they dropped sails, tied themselves down and let the storm do its worst. When the sky cleared again afterward, the navigator would look for the first stars to come through, and figure out where they had been blown to. After the week I had just come through, it was like that. I'd weathered the storm, and now the stars were showing me the way home.
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