COVID - An iceberg of titanic proportions

The Titanic movie was an epic movie. Many would know and smile at the mention of the movie, a tale of a mega ship created to change the world at the time it was built.  A huge ship with all different layers and classes of travel, something for everyone, who were off for an amazing journey. The story begins to get interesting when two passengers have the gumption to cross classes and connect together. And then all hell breaks loose when the ship, which was supposed to be unsinkable, hits an iceberg and over time the damage is enough to send the whole thing crashing to the bottom of the sea. While I love the drama, adventure and romance of the movie, I remember a scene of a violin quartet standing on the deck of the ship continuing to play as the ship went down. Was it denial, was it acceptance, was it simply the English stiff upper lip, proudly going down with the ship, doing what they have always done?  

 

In a throw away conversation with a colleague we joked about how hard it is to “turn the ship” when it comes to thinking about doing church life across the ages. After what feels like 15 years of exploring life in community together, across the ages, I am still shocked when I find myself in a conversation with people who are still asking how it is even possible to grow, serve, learn and worship across the ages. The ship is simply not turning and it made me think about the “Titanic”.

 

The many decks, the many classes, all keeping separate and not mixing. The fact that the titanic was sinking and most people had no idea until it was too late. The rush to the life rafts to discover there wasn’t enough of them, because no one truly believed that the Titanic was ever able to sink.  The ship was designed for comfort and style and order and class, not practicalities. This mega ship was unstoppable, it was going to be honoured and adored by the world as the world’s largest ship. After all, biggest is best.

 

It feels like for centuries we have been building the unstoppable, unsinkable mega Church. One that has many rooms, many activities, many segregations, many specializations, all to keep everyone occupied in their own way. The captain is very removed from the people and all with the desire to get as many people saved and to the other side of this world to eternity. Like the ‘Titanic’, the institutional church was built all with the best of intentions and yet seems to be missing the real practicalities and purpose of community and life together.  And once it started sinking, the panic of personal survival meant that community and care for each other seemed to be thrown overboard. 

 

My colleague said, “maybe we need to strategically place some icebergs” in order for people to re-think. I can’t imagine any more of an iceberg than COVID-19 on the world stage. Yet it seems as if the church is like the quartet of violinists standing on the deck and playing their music (with masks on of course) as if all will be ok if we just keep doing what we have always done. 

 

On the Titanic, as the ship was sinking, the life rafts were only small and only a few people could get on each. There wasn’t enough and many people drowned as a result. This is a very interesting visual. Just to state, I am not about sinking ships or churches for that matter, but I do believe in the ‘life raft’. I do believe the ‘life raft’ is the kind of community Jesus built and He wanted us to build thousands of them. I do live in such a ‘life raft’ community. It is rich, strong, life-giving, safe and yet vulnerable, exposing and real. Sometimes we really feel like we are tackling a large sea in a little raft, holding on for dear life. But this is when faith, what you believe, and knowing who will be stay with you through the good and bad, really reveals itself.  

 

COVID continues to rock us all, it has sunk many and most are wandering around the sea in big empty ships feeling like what next? The ‘life raft’ is as real now as it has ever been. True, real community in small spaces, where everyone knows each other, love and accepts each other. A place where age, culture and class is irrelevant, but faith is necessary. Wow, that sounds like the early Church to me. I challenge you to take a risk and jump into a ‘life raft’ and experience transformational life.  In 2022, is there any more to lose?

 

 

 

 

Don't 'fail' to learn

I went to watch the sunset this morning to put into practice the new things I am learning about taking a photograph in manual mode. Up to this point all my photos have been in automatic and I was enjoying that process, it was working. For me to look through the lens, enjoy what I see and frame it right has given me so much pleasure. It allowed me to adventure and discover so many new things. I knew it had its limits, but what I was experiencing in those limits was still enjoyable.

 

This year I have decided to try to stretch myself, go out of my comfort zone and try to learn to shoot in the manual mode. So many had been telling me it allows you to do so much more. I believe it, I just can’t understand it … yet.   So, I have been doing a course online and today it was time to give it a go. 

 

It was a beautiful morning; calm, picturesque, a serene sunrise, the harbour was sparkling, and for August it wasn’t even cold.  I set myself up and began to try to take a picture with all my new information.   Nothing worked, nothing made sense, all I had learned had disappeared and the camera would not do anything I asked it to. Most times it wouldn’t even take a photo at all, and I know it was because I had no idea what I was doing.  It was not an enjoyable experience. I even tried to slip back into automatic and try to capture something, but even that didn’t work the same, nothing seemed to work. 

 

I packed up and headed to the car, feeling very sad and frustrated.  People saw my camera gear and spoke to me repeatedly as they walked past, saying, “What a beautiful morning, did you get some good shots?” I had no confidant answer for them and as I pondered, I realized I didn’t even see how beautiful it was this morning. I missed the whole sunrise.  What would normally have been a lifegiving and joyous experience just left me feeling empty and dejected. I got into my car and just cried. I felt panic and a lack of confidence and I wanted to give up. This was all too hard. 

 

Now I know that my tears were not just about missing the sunrise, or not being able to make my camera work. I know this experience triggered a deeper pain of being completely out of my comfort zone and having to try something completely new, when all I really want to do is to go back to the way it was.  It triggered fear, shortness of breath, pain, loss, sadness about my current reality. You know that change, when you are going along in automatic, life is good, life is great and then suddenly, all the rules are changed, and you have no idea how to function in a new mode. For so many the rules are changing daily even, and we are all trying to simply function, and nothing makes sense anymore. You just sit and want to go back to that way it was or give up because it is all too hard.

 

These past 2 years has been this way for so many people, on so many levels. On a world scale, we are all struggling with the challenge of change and new rules and guidelines being thrust upon us. You name it, it has happened. There is no easy way to navigate what seems to many of us something that we can’t see the end of. And yet like many, for me, COVID has not even been my greatest and most challenging change. 

 

So, I ask myself, why I am doing this to myself right now, changing up one of the few things that has been my lifeline in these difficult times? Should I just go back to ‘auto’ photography and give up learning something new?  The easy answer is yes, but in my world right now where so much is out of my control, maybe it is one thing I can change, renew, improve, strengthen. The one place where at least I have the control to choose to give something new and scary a go. A place where my bruised and battered confidence may have a chance to beginning re-sorting itself, preparing me to feel that I can face the bigger challenges of life that will really matter. A little step that will help move me from feeling “paralysed” and “hopeless” to be able to breathe again and step into a new world with renewed “hope”. 

 

Randomly I received a message the night before from someone who doesn’t really know me. I thought it was strange when I read it that night, but as I re-read it this morning I wonder if God knew I would need it this morning: 

 

“God has amazing things in your future, Things you’ve never imagined but to get there you’re going to have defeat some big giants, overcome some big obstacles, outlast some strong opposition. Why this is happening you do not know, but you must stay strong and show the opposition that you’re more determined than they are. God didn’t bring you this far to leave you. The problem is not there to stop you. It’s there to prepare you. This challenge will not defeat you.”

 

I must believe that if I can push through this difficult, unknown, clueless time of not knowing how to take a photo in manual mode, then in the end a new and exciting world of possibilities can be open to me. Even though I can’t see how this is possible yet, I choose to believe it is.  But greater than that I choose to believe this for life, my every day, for my family, for those I walk with and for the world. 

 

You can’t see it yet, your messed up HSC, your lost job, your broken family, your shattered dreams, your wavering health, your lonely and rejected heart, your painful loss that makes no sense … it’s not easy. What is one thing you can do today to simply build hope and life into this day? What is one thing you can do today that is new, stretching, one thing that helps you not give up today?  Sometimes it is all I have, and it is enough for today. 

 

Today, I missed the sunrise, I didn’t get the shot, I messed up, fell apart, and cried. But I got up, I got dressed, I drove to the beach, I gave it a go, I acknowledged the pain, and I have chosen to not give up, I am not defeated, and I will try again. And it is still only 8:30am. It is a good day to NOT ‘fail to learn’.

The photo I took in desperation in "Auto" mode 

(PS. I wrote this 4 weeks ago and still haven't picked up the camera again, 

I have a long way to go yet)

To re-knit or NOT to re-knit?

I had never known that you can reuse wool before until I wrote a blog about unravelling and got responses back from people about the power of re-used wool. Until then I thought that once something was knitted together and became unravelled you simply threw it away and started again. The more and more I investigated the idea of reusing old wool that had come unravelled, I became more and more aware of the depth of this process. 

 

A dear and wise friend wrote to me: 

 

“In the unravelling we still have the wool. We lose the shape of what was, but we carry the same wool for remaking the new. All the memories, the experience’s, the lessons, the joys and griefs are still in the wool – it’s not in the shape we loved, crafted, cared for and created though and that’s what makes the heart ache.”

I confess I am not yet anywhere near the “re-making” stage in my life, the unravelling is far too painful, and I cannot yet see any joy in the new. I know it will be a very long process. During the heart ache of this current season, I decided on a project to unravel something I made 37 years ago. Something that I have treasured and had for so long to see if it would help the current healing process. This jumper was to me still perfect, it did not need to be unravelled, it was functional and comfortable and surrounded me with the warmth I needed, so it was hard to decide to unravel it. Yet, this is what happens at times, doesn’t it? It didn’t make sense to unravel a perfectly good jumper, but this was a process that didn’t need to make sense. Sometimes trying to make sense of the “why” is not the correct question to ask, more often we need to ask the question “what next” and this is what this unravelling project was about. 

As I unravelled a jumper I had lovingly made all those years ago, I was surprised as to how hard it was to pull apart. What I thought would simply just fall apart with a few pulls, was not so.

Although it had been knitted so long ago, it was so entwined, that I had to resort to cutting it which caused lots of small pieces of twine. The cutting process was painful for me, yet very real. It took a very long time, I wanted to give up so many times, thinking this is just too hard. And yet I was thankful it was a hard and long process because it showed that something made with such love should take a long time to unravel. If it had unravelled with one pull, it wouldn’t have been so strong and well-made and maybe I would have to question its strength in the first place.  But it took almost as long to unravel as it did to remake something new. This gave me a strange comfort, a validation that the original knitting was not a waste of time, or for nothing.   

Ecclesiastes 4:12 – “A three corded strand is not so easily broken”.  

 

 And yet after a lot of time cutting and ripping and pulling it was all unravelled. All the pieces, in

various sizes.  What was once whole pieces of coloured strands of wool was now all in pieces. What was once knitted together to create a whole piece, a unique design that gave me warmth, shelter, covering, joy, and life was now gone. Some might look at the original jumper and say, well it was very dated, very 80’s, maybe it was time for something new. For me, while I like new things, the old is still special to me and there is something about the love and memories created over time that can never be replaced with something new. But as we are all learning, life throws the unexpected at you and sometimes the old must go, sometimes it is cut, ripped, and pulled away from you and you have no choice but to begin again. 

I was left with the process of tying the broken pieces together to make a new ball of wool, a combination of all the colours, all the threads of the past creation, connected with knots.  

The ball of wool showed its imperfections, its brokenness, and yet the hope of something new that could be remade, rather than the option I had only known before, that it simply needed to be thrown away.

To begin again with the wool that carries all those memories, experiences and lessons, brings the old into the new and creates something better than new.  Or so I have been told. 

 

As I considered what I could reknit, I knew I was not up to re-knitting a jumper. I am not sure how I even knitted the first one, with all its intricate designs. I knew I was only up to making something simple, something that showed me something “new and functional” was possible from these broken strands of wool. 

 
I began to re-knit, to re-use the wool that had been unravelled and created something that now sits on my bed, carrying the memories, the joys, and the griefs of the past. It was all the colours mixed, rather than the colours being separated as in the original design, and yet speaks to me of the hope of something new.  It is not as functional as the original, more of a decoration, a memorial even. This time it was knitted with tears, the original being knitted with love, but none the less it is new. 
 

“Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, Be present. 

I’m about to do something brand-new” Isaiah 43:18-19

 
To re-knit or not to re-knit, that is always the question? I’m trusting God that the only option is to re-knit and trust in that process. Right now, I am “faking it till I make it”, one day at a time. The new cushion reminds me each day it’s a choice and yet it gives me a smile of the past as I press forward to the new.