Nashville Pilgrim’s Progress – the beginning

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  1. How to kill time in transit at the vast Changi air

    terminal – although kill’s probably not the right word. When you’ve got five hours freedom from being straight jacketed in economy class for 22 hours, transit is a gift. “People watching” one pamphlet suggests. I found a place in this spread out city of terminals where there were no people to watch – just a spot to relax and unwind – lots of wide open spaces here – you have to hunt them down though. This photo is taken on the elusive third deck of Terminal 3.

  2. Taipei – an unexpected stop where we disembarked,went through another security check and re-boarded. It was 2300 after an 0500 start. The 2 hour journey across x time zones and the date line then commenced. Tried to catch some zeds but was woken twice for meals even though I wasn’t taking them. Fully crowded flight.

  3. Los Angeles. Border protection! What an experience – a frantic cranky pressing crowd from several international flights all pressed together and being herded along gangways, tunnels and through doors into something like sheep races. (Remember that scene from Crocodile Dundee?) My attempts at courtesy were met with scornful derision by some and open mouthed bewilderment by others. The accepted custom seems to be “Mind your own business” and don’t respond to another’s distress. This was noticeably the case when a small Asian woman was trying to grab her elusive bag from the carousel – which seemed much higher than most. It was making it’s third circuit when I lunged and grabbed it for her. She was grateful but the surrounding crowd stared like stunned mullets as if this was an audacious action. Perhaps they thought I was going to run off with it! I also let a group of Spanish speaking people in front of me because they were separated from each other and somewhat agitated. The lady immediately behind me berated my action, saying it would have been nice if I had had the manners and magnamity to let her in as well. I apologised and responded that, if she was part of the group, she was quite welcome to go before me. Even if she was not. I stood aside to allow her ahead. She refused and said nothing more. The immigration interview was an abrupt, “What is the purpose of your visit?… How long are you staying?… bye bye!” About 50 minutes altogether which wasn’t bad considering the large crowd, many of whom were having trouble filling out the immigration forms through lack of English. Thanks to Google Maps and Street View, I already had the route to my overnight stay imprinted on my brain. It was a healthy 30 minute walk from the terminal. Great stretch of the legs! Great bed! Great breakfast!

  4. People watching. Unavoidable on return to LAX for Nashville connection. The world passes through this place. An hour’s wait at check-in did not pass without interest – the prolific amount of Spanish spoken – the paparazzi chasing celebrities who most vehemently do not want to be photographed, Rastafarians on skateboards, uniformed folk shouting at crowds of confused looking travelers, too-late commuters banging on terminal observation glass trying to get their departing aircraft to return. Everyone speaks loudly announcing their conversations for all to hear. The obesity issue is notably common.

  5. Tipping. Not sure how this works but I’ve done it twice – the bloke who delivered my breakfast and the shuttle baggage handler. $5 a piece and the response was generous. A lot of these jobs are at minimum wages and tips are the only way that those in the service industry – mostly immigrants – can keep body and soul together. For the traveler, the cost of living seems to be cheaper here when one does the exchange calculations so I think it’s a win/win situation. (Later note – the tipping left for the chambermaid at my Nashville stay was refused – so go figure!)

  6. Through the Looking Glass. I thought my feeling of disorientation was due to jet lag. I’m now convinced that it’s due to the effect of “opposites.” It’s all pervasive. The traffic drives on the opposite side and the pedestrian flows echo it. Light switches are “upside down.” Hot and cold water taps are reversed. Whereas GST is included in the advertised price at home, here it is added on – necessitating keeping an internal calculator in one’s head. It grants me a new appreciation of what newcomers to our own shores must experience as old yet benign habits are continually challenged.

  7. Nashville – with what first impressions shall I compare thee? Right now I’m thinking Ballarat – a large busy country town with a lot of history and ambience – but rather than gold it’s country music (another kind of gold) that puts this place on the map. My room looks out on the Union Station Hotel – a grand old building from the early 1900s when Nashville was more famous as a rail hub. An African-American man (who worked for a company called “Driving Miss Daisy”) offered me a ride from the airport for $20. Travel weariness had set in and I wasn’t in the mood to hunt down a hotel shuttle and I thought it a good price so agreed. The conversation and local knowledge was worth it. After settling in I ventured out at dusk to find a bite to eat – just a snack. The only thing that looked open was McDonald’s and it was actually closing (yes, I know, hard to imagine!) Lots of down and outers around. I must have seemed like one because the young man behind the gas station counter offered to pay the extra 20 cents for my $5.20 turkey sandwich and drink. Off to bed now – three whole days in one place with time to soak in! (Later note – went back to the Golden Arches the next day about 6pm thinking to get a light salad having had an Angus beef sub with trimmings for lunch. Ordered a South West Premium Salad thinking it would be the modest size of those served back home. Well this is super-size country and it came with deep grilled chicken on a huge dinner plate. One can eat quite well here on a very modest budget.)

  8. Downtown comes alive. Around mid-afternoon, every delicatessen, beer-hall, bar and eatery in the “honky-tonk” strip begins to vibrate with all the genres of live country music. I shoved my way past about ten places in a row that were filling up with people to listen to the live performances – and that was before hitting the 2nd Avenue entertainment strip.

  9. Met up with Clive and Cherryl today we were soon drenched in a good ol’ Tennessee thunderstorm. Some java coffee in an old icecream parlour sorted us out. Later visited the Country Music Hall of Fame a masterpiece of modern architecture that showcased the development and rise of country music in elegant style. Just as elegant was the more classically styled music conservatory alongside, not in competition, but as complimentary. a harbinger, perhaps of the diverse streamscoming together for this convention.

 

 

Signing in from Nashville

G’day readers, here we are. Lots of stuff already written up for this pilgrim’s journal here, but there’s a problem connecting my laptop to the hotel’s wifi system, so until I find a hotspot that works, I’m using the public internet in the lobby. I’ll load the report on the journey here when I can. Circadian rhythms have just about righted themselves, so I’m just taking a relaxing day wandering around the downtown area and getting some orientation. Ended up under some trees on the river bank just past a replica of the fort from which Nashville was founded. Pretty hot and muggy, so stayed there a while reading up on Alexander Campbell’s life story as imaged in “Fool of God.” Hopefully good preparation for the tour over the weekend of historic sites associated with him. Looking for an ATM in the downtown district, one could not help but notice the proliferation of notices warning against giving money to “panhandlers” – the fine print advised it was preferable to give food and water, but also gave a phone number to which one could refer those in need. On the river bank I was aware that I was sharing the shade with a range of possible homeless wanderers. Rammed into a bench was a crumpled newspaper published by a homeless advocacy group. Right on the spot I could learn about the plight of the poor in this region and the challenge to assist that is being addressed largely by the churches. The problem is that food distribution points are best accessible by car and the main mode of transport for the homeless is walking. The advocacy group has a centre in the downtown district from which they can give advice and support, but the lease does not allow them to give material assistance from the premises. Lobbying for government funding for homeless assistance programs seems to be part of their work as well. The talk in the general media is about raised levels of anxiety as more families become homeless due to the sub-prime crisis. It will be interesting in convention week to hear some perspectives on this, and whether there is strength in the so-called domino-effect on our own country – and also clues that may help a similar but different crisis for the growing number of homeless in Perth.

Off to Nashville, Tennessee

Why would a home territory boy like me suddenly take off to cowboy country in the USA? A love for country music? Nup! Hiding from the law? No way! Three quarter life crisis? Don’t think so. I’m sure it’s something to do with the hosting of the World Convention of Churches of Christ. It’s one of the few occassions left for the gathering of our movement on a large scale. National Conferences are pretty much a thing of the past in this paradoxical age of decentralisation and, yet, vast access to the universe through technology. I’ve only ever attended World Convention on two other occasions, both when Australia was host – Adelaide in 1970 and Brisbane in 2000. So why Nashville in 2008?

Several reasons:

  1. Nashville is close to some of the historic roots that gave birth to the Restoration Movement, the church family I have most identified with from the age of four. A great opportunity to connect here as churches from all over the world consider how the principles of this movement are best interpreted for the 21st Century.
  2. Networking – living in what is sometimes called “the most isolated capital city in the world” can foster an unconscious parochial outlook, internet not withstanding. Close proximity for a couple of weeks to a wide range of international personalities will assist my antibodies in fighting off any lurking isolationist virus!
  3. The very process of overseas travel of which I have fleeting experience is stimulating my resourcefulness. I have learned a lot. I don’t want to present myself as a “mark” by looking like a naive open-mouthed tourist as I weave my way through unfamiliar territory in getting to Nashville – nor do I want to be an obnoxious know-it-all. Let me be a pilgrim – well prepared and open to learning along the way. “Awareness” is what I pray for on a journey that is structured but not rigid.

I hope to use this blog that has endured several recent fallow periods as a journal for reflections along the way. ETD is just over a week away. The week is chockablock with work to be done so next time I blog will probably be enroute.

Book Review – The Shack

Author: William P Young, Windblown Media, 2007

After more than thirty years of trying to come to grips with an adequate articulation of an intellectual understanding of the Trinity, this book has finally convinced me that it can’t be done!

No wonder the biblical writers avoided anything like the “T” word with its propensity for misunderstanding. Taking the lead of Jesus, they use metaphor and story to describe the compelling intimacy of God as revealed through Father, Son and Holy Spirit – an intimacy into which, through the gift of Jesus, all humankind is invited.

For this reason those who trust only a propositional approach to knowing God will not enjoy William Young’s exposition of the nature of God, even given that his work is classified fiction (a bereaved father spends an unexpected weekend with God at the scene of the crime – “The Shack.”) It sends too many doctrinal hares running, and the work of rounding them up is never-ending. It seems to me, however, that Jesus has no problem with this mode of exploring our relationship with the Divine. His use of parable and riddle was obviously a favoured method of opening minds to the possibility of being caught up in the ways of the Kingdom. Young has used a similar approach to entice us into an affective understanding of who God is and why God allows certain things to be the way they are, especially when they leave us cloaked in what Young calls “The Great Sadness.”

I enjoyed immensely reading “The Shack.” It challenged my stereotypes – even the ones in my unconscious. It led me to explore new places that have been slowly revealing themselves over many years in my own prayer practice. I was able to descend into depths of relationship with each of the expressions of God as encountered. The conversations reinforced some of my own discoveries surrounding the painful and vexed question of theodicy (or “why does an all powerful and all loving deity allow suffering?”)

The author doesn’t pretend that this is some ground-breaking theological dissertation – after all, it was originally meant as a story for his own family built on incidents and events in their journey together. In this sense it is similar to Jacob’s nocturnal wrestling with the angel before meeting his estranged brother Esau – the protagonist in “The Shack” emerges not only with a fresh “knowing” of God, but a new name, a new nature, and a new expression of conversion.

The Black Balloon – Movie Review

Here is a story of autism within the chaotic unpredictabilty of family life. Charlie is an island within the swirling maelstrom of an extraverted family unit consisting of soldier Dad, heavily pregnant Mum, and younger brother Thomas. Fifteen year old Thomas is the protagonist and we largely see the delights and challenges of living with the autism spectrum through Thomas’ eyes. The bulk of responsibility for managing Charlie’s care falls on Thomas and the film holds nothing back as we see Thomas and Charlie riding the waves of neighbourhood misunderstanding, peer group scorn, and frustration that becomes so overwhelming that it occassionally erupts in uncontrollable violence. Such occasions are episodic in a family that cares deeply for each of its members, but a climactic incident at Thomas’ sixteenth birthday celebration brings him to a fresh level of realisation that living with Charlie is more about “going with the flow” rather than, motivated by his wish for Charlie to be “normal”, trying to improve his condition . The story is powerfully told, hopefully heralding a wider community understanding of the dynamics of families living with autism, and an encouragement for those families who are prone to feel isolated by this disorder. See here for the official movie site, or see the trailer here.

Sorry Day Eve

Tomorrow is a historic day for Australia. At long last, after much political soul searching and hand wringing, Federal Parliament, through its new Prime Minister, will say the word “sorry” to this land’s first peoples.

In this context “sorry” is a power word. It has strong potential for unblocking the process for healing and self-realisation, not only for aborigines, but all Australians. The lancing of the wounds of the sordid past of which the “stolen generations” is only one marker, is painful but necessary, and a formal apology carries the properties of both an antibody and a balm.

Some fear the power of the word, anxious of the blight of inherited blame and what it may cost in terms of material compensation. For such the word loses its power, for it simply ceases to exist. The national mood, the zeitgeist, however, is that the “sorry” word is at least ten years overdue and that it should have followed soon after the Bringing them Home report was tabled in Parliament in 1997.

In the meantime, Isaiah 55: 10-13 speaks powerfully into our context:

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,

and do not return there until they have watered the earth,

making it bring forth and sprout,

giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,

so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;

it shall not return to me empty,

but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,

and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

For you shall go out in joy,

and be led back in peace;

the mountains and the hills before you shall burst into song,

and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress;

instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle;

and it shall be to the Lord for a memorial,

for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.

Is the word “sorry” divinely inspired in this national instance? My theology says it is.

Reflection on an unexpected adrenalin rush

Up until mid afternoon, the greatest drama today was discovering my car’s cooling system overflowing with oil. I managed to nurse it over to the local service centre, just across from where we live, and was discussing it outside with the bloke there when all hell broke loose.

A man went charging past us with another in close pursuit – yelling something incomprehensible and aiming a pistol. A car screamed around the corner and four burly blokes jumped out, heading the man off and waving pistols. They all jumped on him in a rugby scrum, quickly subdued him and cuffed him. A helicopter hovered overhead. It was all over, but for many more plain clothes officers appearing from every direction.

By that time I was beginning to review my response. As soon as I saw the first gun, I shouted to the fellow I was talking to, “Come on – inside!” and (setting an example of inspired leadership, of course) ran into the service station. I turned to see the scrum and saw my conversation partner running away from me towards it – to get a closer look! Sheepishly, I returned to where we had been standing.

And now I reflect on what motivated my instinctive reaction to what was indeed a highly risky situation. I can see it all in slow motion as the options ran through my head. “Is the guy with the gun a good guy or a crook? Whatever, we don’t need to stop any bullets. We need to hit the dirt. Can I pull this guy I’m talking to down without drawing attention to us? No that’s too dramatic. Let’s get inside and out of the way. Come on – inside!”

Self and/or other preservation? Common sense? Over-reaction? It’s interesting to mull over one’s reactions when danger suddenly arises. What would you have done? And as the American evangelicals constantly ask “What would Jesus do?”

Some new websites

Adding to the sidebar some new websites.

  1. Our revamped church website.
  2. PeaceChurch, a new venture that we hope will become a “parallel congregation” in Perth’s western suburbs – it has a dedicated “justice and mercy” bent.
  3. Not up yet, but watch for “Sacred Spaces”, another parallel church celebrating a contemplative approach

Many thanks to webmaster Steve Mellor for his work on these sites.