About a month ago I heard a talk about how God made the first move with us and goes to crazy lengths to woo us. Yet framing my relationship with Jesus as an epic romance is a bit, well, off. Friend, yes. Father, yes. But this?
What does string theory have to do with the Resurrection? What's the difference between wanderlust and "wonderlust" (is that even a thing?)? Why do adverb particles matter?
This Easter I really went down the rabbit hole ...
String theory and the Resurrection
I was listening to a podcast the other day, an interview with a physicist who was explaining the holographic principle. Based on string theory, one of the concepts is that our lived reality is two-dimensional data expressed in three dimensions. In other words, reality is a hologram.
It made me think about dimensions in general. If two dimensions can express three, and it's generally accepted that we inhabit four dimensions (the fourth being time), what would 5D* projection mean? Because I'm convinced the material world isn't all there is to existence.
As a person of faith, I believe we exist in more than four dimensions. But for most people - Christians, followers of other faiths and those of no faith alike - our active engagement in the fifth is limited.
This Easter I was reminded that the Resurrection invites us to walk beyond the four dimensions and live a bigger, richer reality.
Last week, on my flight from New York back to Sydney, I binge watched Season 1 of The Newsroom. It’s a series created by Aaron Sorkin, the guy behind The West Wing, with Jeff Daniels playing Will McAvoy, an anchorman on cable news.
In the opening scene of the series pilot, Will is on a panel with a Democrat and a Republican at a university, when a student asks the panel: “What makes America the greatest country in the world?”
The question triggers an epic and rousing outburst from Will, who dresses down both major political parties and rails about why America is no longer the greatest country on earth.
“But it could be”, he then says in softer tones.
That first season of The Newsroom aired in 2012, before Donald Trump ever campaigned for president, promising to “make America great again”.
Coincidence? I doubt it.
I wasn’t procrastinating – I actually wasn’t planning on ever reading the book. It was going to be one for the mantelpiece, to adorn the bookshelf. After all, I spent a year working for the organisation founded by the author, so I didn’t just know the content – I was living right amongst it.
It was a surprise, then, how much the opening chapters of The Locust Effect moved me. Two months back on board with International Justice Mission (IJM), now in Australia, and we’ve talked on a number of occasions about vicarious trauma. I’ve shared with my colleagues some of what I went through that year in Bolivia. They’ve shared about how advocating against cybersex trafficking has had a toxic personal effect on them.
It’s the second week of Advent and I’m not really feeling it.
Generally speaking, people slide easily into one of three distinct categories: (1) those who absolutely love Christmas; (2) those who find Christmas super stressful; and, (3) those who are indifferent to Christmas.
I love Jesus but I am planted firmly in the third camp.
So I scour the season, I scour Scripture, both for magic and for logic.
Ten years ago, a lady named Debbie asked me if I was studying Spanish because I wanted to be a missionary in South America. At the time it was a seriously long bow to draw - I in fact had no better reason for studying Spanish other than Age of Empires and the Spanish national football team.
Once I started learning the language, I discovered how beautiful it was to the ear, the mind, the tongue. But even then I didn't have any particular interest in Latin American culture. I had even less interest in becoming a missionary.
Debbie and I are unlikely to cross paths again, but what she said turned out to be rather prophetic.
I grew up with a lot of positive reinforcement and believing in Jesus has both shrunk and supersized that.
On the one hand, ambition can be a bad word because it implies arrogance. I have become less self-effacing, more confident, over the years, but I doubt anyone I know would describe me as ambitious.
There is still this idea that ambition is a cut-throat attitude, seeking to elevate yourself regardless of the cost to others.
Um ... not me.
But y'know what, I am ambitious.
And I'm going to start owning that.
Thought I'd share something different this week. Here's a quiz for anyone who's ever lived abroad.
Which Bible expat are you?
Below is a quick questionnaire about your experience overseas. Each response links to one or more people from Scripture.
I am not a perfectionist. Not in the traditional sense of the word - I decided a long time ago that it was too difficult and painful to live that way, that I wasn't going to be needlessly harsh and demanding on myself, trying to get everything right down to a tee.
But I am, in my own way, a perfectionist. Deep down, I still believe in and long for perfection.
"How can you not like dumplings? They're little pieces of heaven!"
Okay, so this post isn't really about dumplings. But I'm going to talk a little about dumplings to launch into some thoughts about the little pieces of heaven on earth, the fragments of eternity around us.
It's hard to explain how learning Spanish has amplified and enriched my understanding of God and the Bible.
But I'll try.
In this post I'll teach you six Spanish words to show you what you're missing by only reading the Bible in English.
Now that I'm more than a month into my current unemployment, I’m starting to find it all a bit overwhelming. But not for the reasons you might think.
It’s 10am on a weekday and I’m sitting in a café, sipping my on-the-whole-pretty-decent large flat white, writing this. It’s not a bad life, really.
Apparently Margaret Thatcher was my hero. When I was in Year 6, each kid in our class had to nominate a female role model and I chose the Iron Lady. I don't know why I didn't pick Aung San Suu Kyi. Way cooler. And I mean, I'm possibly part-Burmese. Maybe.
Meanwhile, Alex - the boy I had a crush on - chose English nurse Florence Nightingale. My heart fluttered and sighed. This guy is beautiful and deep!
He chose a compassionate, determined, God-fearing woman. I chose a conservative politician (in)famous for being a hard-ass.
To this day, I think Alex had the right idea. And I'm starting to think I need to have better taste in women.
Draw me out of stormy water
My first breath is marked by grace
Make me someone else’s daughter
Heart that doesn’t match its face
There is a blueprint to my heart
Chase it up my family tree
Peel away this royal mask
Disarmed, now trace me back to Eve
Fire within and it consumes me
Lift my hand, in for the kill
Fire before my eyes I see
Instantly the world falls still
Pack my bags and leave the road
Suddenly I’m homeward bound
Might and mercy that was showed
A destiny, a new hope found
Even pain it had a purpose
Rejection taught me who to trust
Didn't see it at the time
The diamonds being formed from dust
Here before this multitude
Seas will part and nations fall
Incongruent heart refreshed, renewed
Tuned in to the celestial call
I have a friend who used to say that there's no such thing as luck, only statistics.
It's all just a matter of chance and probability. What we're really saying when we say something that happened was bad luck is that the improbable (but not impossible) negative outcome happened. What we're really saying when we wish someone good luck is that we hope probabilities work in their favour.
Then there are those moments when you really see how the stars have aligned. Yes, it's still probability at play - but I don't believe statistics preclude God's involvement; indeed I believe God can work with probabilities and against them.
B, one of our clients, was diagnosed with cancer and given a 60-70% of responding to treatment and a 40% chance overall of recovering. Hospital A doesn't generally provide chemotherapy. They were going to send B home to free up a bed, and put her on the three-month waiting list at another hospital. It's Monday.