The Exegesis Fairy

For Haley

2011-11-25T09:15:00.002Z

Chaplaincy ball photo, 2005.

Decluttering Away the October Blahs

2011-10-17T17:37:00.004+01:00

It's October. In fact, it's almost the end of October.

October is always a dodgy month for me, health-wise. I have to be amazingly careful about food and sleep and taking my vitamins and and and...otherwise I just turn into a big Blah.

No energy, no distinguishing features, and it's too much effort to put on a pair of earrings.

EARRINGS, for pity's sake.

I get around it by doing as much as possible in advance. Laying out my clothes the night before, cooking in batches, that sort of thing.

And I have a few days off this week, and that will help too.

The other side of the October coin is the Decluttering Frenzy. It's either manic energy or total apathy. Yay. October.

But...it's fairly normal for me.

I get the urge to clear off surfaces a LOT. Every few months in fact. I declutter at the end of the summer (back to school, yay!) in October (weird energy level swings, what?) in January (New Year, new opportunity to give things to the charity shop) in March or April (because spring has sprung) and...little bits and pieces whenever the mood strikes.

Wow. That sounds like a lot of clearing out.

It...kind of is.

The thing is, though, I find it relaxing. Other people enjoy cooking. Some people (I know precisely one) enjoy cleaning. Me? I enjoy lots of things, like pointless Internet surfing and making videos about TV shows I like.

But sometimes only going through the house with a bag for the charity shop, a recycling bin and a binbag will do.

The charity shop motto: give, and it will be given to you. So I take stuff to the charity shop all the time, and sometimes they have the perfect thing for me. A dress for a fiver. A handbag for £2.95. A pair of boots I have worn once a week for the last two winters for £4.50.

Most of the stuff in charity shops I don't like and I don't want. Which is good, because the idea is for me to have a net outflowing of stuff. We get enough coming in with presents and books we love and whatever to balance it all out.

I like having as little stuff as possible. Back before I had a husband and furniture I was inordinately chuffed by the fact that my university accoutrements (including my bike) all fitted into my Ford KA. But still, sometimes I catch myself holding onto stuff. Just because I haven't sorted it in a while or I haven't thought to throw it out.

For the most part, though, it's only MY stuff that I end up giving away. BH gives away some, and lets me replace clothes and recycle the old ones, but he doesn't really buy a lot, so he kind of has a fixed amount of stuff.

He's like my Dad in that respect. They're both generally of the 'don't buy much, then keep it forever' school. Every so often Dad decides to get rid of the stuff that he's not using any more, but...that doesn't need to happen very often, because he doesn't buy a lot. And he has a lot of space.

About a month ago my Mum went over to his house. Dad was getting loft insulation and he needed to clear his roofspace, which was piled up with stuff he hadn't looked at in years.

She was more than happy to encourage him to pitch it out, sort through stuff and bring boxes. Now he has a well insulated loft with maybe a dozen boxes of things stored there.

In that, I take after Mum. She is the declutter queen. 'Do you need it? Do you want it? What is it still doing here? Off to the Cancer shop!'

It's therapeutic for her. She came to visit in the summer, and she cleared out my spices, sorted the utility room and washed down the fronts of my kitchen cabinets.

Well, there wasn't really a great deal else to do. And that made her very happy. She'd spent the previous week staying in a place straight out of Hoarders, and I think she was still a bit traumatised.

I still have some places left to organise. This is because I go through and sort and put away...and the stuff I don't know what to do with gets corralled together, and gradually pushed into a smaller and smaller space until I decide what to do with it.

There's probably a more efficient method, but we don't really have a lot of stuff to begin with, so this one works for me.

One bin bag, two charity shop bags and several days later, I'm feeling good.

This is the only way I know that beats the October Blahs.

Doing OK so far.

An Open Letter to The Internet

2011-06-13T10:15:00.002+01:00

Dear Internet,

I love you rather a lot. You have provided me with much amusement, information and diversion in the course of my life, and I'm not ungrateful for that.

But lately, Internet, I have been wondering about a few things:

1. In what way is Justin Bieber relevant to this discussion?

2. Why does scum float to the top of ponds, but to the 'Comments' section online?

3. Has ANYONE heard of 'Don't like, don't watch'?

4. Could the people who are whining in the aforementioned comment section do better themselves?

5. Why are cats so much funnier on the Internet?

6. Why are so many people so bad at spelling?

Anyway, while there are places within your Terabytes of data that I will never tread, I'm still a big fan, Internet.

But if you did something about the Justin Bieber sucks/is brilliant people, I'd be really grateful.

Love,

The Exegesis Fairy.

Once upon an apology...

2011-05-11T14:28:00.003+01:00

Once upon a time, there was a woman who was a really big fan of the Nostalgia Critic (be warned, loud and full of cursing and explosions and awesome. I don't recommend watching them at work). Which led her, eventually, to the Nostalgia Chick (ditto), and said Chick's blog.

The NChick posted recently on how she had decided to give up self-loathing. Cold turkey.

A massive undertaking, yes?

I sometimes wonder if people come into the world hard wired for self loathing. Especially the clever ones. The smarter people are, the more talented they appear, the more they seem to feel like a fake. The more they can give themselves 'legitimate reasons' for hating themselves (oh, I'm a procrastinator. I'm lazy, I'm unmotivated, I'm ugly, I'm wasting my potential, I'm blah blah freakin' blah') the easier it becomes to do so, and then it just spirals down and down and down and down...

And I say they, when I should say 'we'.

I like to think, most days, that I've left that nonsense behind me. I decided at about 22 that it was stupid, pointless and harmful, so out of my life it would go.

And most days it stays gone.

Something I've noticed, though, is that it's not. Not entirely. Not always.

I'm not going to beat myself up about it. To enter into a shame spiral and hating myself for... hating myself... would be totally pointless, and probably make Baby Jesus cry.

But here's something I'm going to stop. I don't think I can promise cold turkey, but I'm going to try. Because here, ladies and gentlemen, is the last bastion of my low self-esteem.

I will stop apologising for things which require no apology.

(The one notable exception is saying, 'Sorry' whether I bump into someone or they bump into me. It is a sign of my innate Britishness that I do this 99% of the time, and a sign of everyone else's that they do likewise to me.)

But, aside from that fairly meaningless form of social politeness, no.

No apologising for my opinions, even if you don't like them. They're mine, not yours. Engage in debate or accept that we're different people. Live with it.

No apologising for my presence, because I've got to be somewhere taking up space, and right now it's here. Deal with it.

No apologising for my appearance, because it'll be the best I can do, and if it's not, well, I'm not here to decorate your world. Accept it.

That stops here. That stops now.

I am who I is. And if I screw up, I will apologise. If I do you wrong, I will apologise. But I will not apologise for you not liking who I am.

I am a flawed human being. And I'm a fabulous one.

This has been quite a...vehement post. Or I should say a definite one, because it needs to be said.

You can say it. You know you can.

I will not apologise for who I am.

Stepford Wives...on holiday

2011-04-21T16:20:00.004+01:00

Ahhh... I don't have to go to work for 11 whole days.

The happiness this is causing is immense. Even though I'm not strictly speaking 'going on holiday'.

No. Instead, while temperatures outside have reached 21 degrees, I am inside on the Intermanet, composing a video review of the Chronicles of the Kencyrath and freaking out about wasps.

Also, I read The Stepford Wives. I love how it's short. It seems like nobody is allowed to publish short novels any more. Everything has to be at least 80,000 words or more. Still, it's a pretty good book.

OK, the prose is...spartan, which probably explains the word count, but it's genuinely pretty creepy. Even for someone who has watched the film (the one with Nicole Kidman...yeah. It wasn't awesome, but I did like the twist ending) and figured that the original ending probably wasn't so happy-clappy.

The heroine in the book is also a lot more likeable than Kidman's character, who's a really nasty, grasping career woman (symbolised by wearing *gasp* black clothing; seriously, what's unusual about that?) and generally being an unlikeable jerk. Book!Joanna is a semi-professional photographer, and actually a pretty nice, normal, generally unthreatening soul. She is, in fact, not the sort of person you'd want to replace with a robot, because...

OK, I get that the robot wives are totally perfect and whatever, but...she's great. Kind, a good mother, a hard worker... she's not a Mary Sue or anything, but she's a decent sort. As is her friend Mrs Markowe, who gets turned into a robot and, in the book, is Joanna's murderer.

I know. Downer. But you're allowed Downer Endings in books. And I kind of liked it. And because it's short it doesn't have those random treks into Whateverville that 1984 had. (History of the nations, anyone?)

Anyway, outside is nice, so maybe I'll go out there for a while.

RIP, Malcolm Bird

2011-04-05T19:40:00.007+01:00

Today a bunch of things happened. Some that made international headlines: Ivory Coast, Barack Obama announcing he's running for re-election, our house having actual reliable hot water and some radiators. OK, the last one didn't make international headlines, but you know what I mean.

It has not been announced in the broadsheets today, nor will it be tomorrow, that Malcolm Bird has died of a brain tumour. No pundits pontificating on his effects on the economy, no lengthy obituaries describing his Nobel prizes or billions in the bank.

But then, since when have those ever been the mark of a life well lived?

They're great, I'm sure, but... if Steve Jobbs (Jobs?) died tomorrow, I'd feel sad for his family and friends, but it wouldn't really impact my day.

Of course it wouldn't. I don't know him. I did know Malcolm.

And I loved Malcolm.

I think the mark of a life well lived is the love that you trail in your wake. And he had enough to float a battleship. His death is devastating, even though we know where he's gone, and Who is looking after him there. We love him, and he's not here.

And we'll miss him. I'll miss him. I'll miss our shared love of chocolate. I'll miss him nipping through on his way to walk the dog, when I was expounding my latest relationship drama to Paula, his wife and my mentor.

I'll miss his prayers for me, both the ones for which I was present, and the ones he prayed every day on my behalf for pretty much as long as he knew me.

I'll miss his practicality, his can-do attitude, his love of cycling. I'll miss a fellow engineer, and a wise and patient man. I'll miss someone who loved Jesus intensely, who loved others beautifully, and who always laughed at my jokes, even when they weren't really that funny. I'll miss a good and faithful servant.

I'll miss a thousand little things that are almost impossible to put into words. And I'm not alone. My prayers go out for his family, for his friends, people who knew him for decades, who knew him better than I ever could.

I will miss you, Malcolm.

But I will see you again.

I know the secret. The tomb is empty. And He is risen.

Rest in peace and rise in glory, Malcolm Bird.

And I'll see you at the party.

30 litres of white matt emulsion later...

2011-03-29T11:01:00.004+01:00

...and the house looks...well, a lot better.

I just bought 15 litres of Wilkinson's matt emulsion in White. They're £4 per 5-litre tub, so it's cheap, but it makes the place look nice.

The first two tubs of paint I bought were Morrison's Brilliant White. I only realised I hadn't bought the same colour when I started to put another layer on the spare bedroom.

Still, white is actually better at covering the wall imperfections and vomit-coloured plasterboard than brilliant white, so never mind. I'm a DIY machine, people. I've gone through a box-and-a-half of Polyfilla (there were some pretty big holes in the living room walls) and I'm nowhere near finished.

But I have: painted the kitchen, sealed the kitchen window, painted the spare bedroom, painted our bedroom, I've done three walls of the internal hall, all of the front hall, the utility room, and almost all of the living room.

The bathroom...well, I did one wall, because it was majorly depressing, and I wanted to paint it before we got the new radiators.

We're getting new radiators. In fact, an entirely new heating system. Praise the Lord, because the house is absolutely freezing. Thank goodness the insulation (cavity wall, double glazing, some in the loft) is good, because we haven't frozen. But now the warmer weather is coming, we can turn the radiators off, and we can get new, efficient, gas radiators (WHO thought storage heaters were a good idea? No, seriously. WHO?)

Man, I am SO happy about this, it's not even funny. Even if it means mess in the house for the whole of next week.

After the radiators? The skirting boards.

Again, WHO thought pink skirting, or orange skirting, or yellow door frames were a good idea?

Siiiiigh.

Still, not even the fact that my hoover is missing a vital component (where did it go?) can bring me down, people.

I am on a roll with the decorating.

On. A. Roll.

If you wondered about the pullup bar...

2011-02-25T12:57:00.002Z

Then give yourself a big hand.

BH bought me a pullup bar for Christmas. It goes over the doorframe. If you are wondering if they ever fall off...

Yes, yes they do. I have two skinned elbows to prove it.

Normally the moment caused by the top bar means horizontal forces are more important than vertical ones. But if you get overenthusiastic, you can knock the stupid thing off the doorframe and fall in a heap in your hall.

Chalk this one up to experience: slow and controlled movements.

Also, owch.

My New Song. Thanks, Merlin Mann!

2010-12-16T13:36:00.002Z

Dear Merlin Mann,

I love your website.

It's awesome.

Especially this bit.

Today, thanks to you, I wrote a song.

Ok, it's not a very good song. But I got it down on paper and onto my computer and that is something I haven't done since I was 11 years old.

That's a bit sad, no? Still, I had a mental block that I was crap at writing songs. And therefore I was just not going to write them, and that was that.

Anyway, the reason was that I was reading 43 Folders and I thought to myself, 'You know what? I should probably actually be asleep right now. But I'm not. I'm procrastinating. I'm procrastinating from SLEEPING, one of my all-time favourite activities. So if I'm awake, I'm actually going to DO SOMETHING USEFUL (for a given value of useful). I'm going to do something that I think I can't do.'

So I wrote some random words on a page, and three hours later, I have a song.

Like I said, not a great one.

But I'm working on that.

Productivity rocks.

On Self-Reliance

2010-12-16T09:14:00.003Z

Who doesn't love self-reliance?

The kids I look after go to a Posh School. It's a very nice school. Everyone there is either on the staff or younger than 9, and it's a generally happy and enthusiastic sort of place.

It has once flaw, and that a minor one: there is nothing resembling a bus service to it, and parking is somewhat restricted. There is a nearby road to park in, but this is utter misery at 8.15 in the morning when it's minus 4 outside and there's snow on the ground.

So in the last couple of weeks the complaints have been coming constantly about the long trek (about 200 metres? Yeah.) to school.

'Fine' says I, 'if you want, I can leave you right at the gate. But' (to the little one) 'I cannot come into school with you. You must sort your coat and bags and snacks out by yourself. But I think you can do it.'

So on Tuesday we had a go at the 'drop-off zone', which reminds me somewhat of airports. And it worked rather well.

And on Wednesday we got to school a little too early, so had to sit in the car for a bit. We walked around to the gate and I got from the little one, 'I'm going to go and do my stuff myself'.

'Well okay then!' I said cheerily, 'see you after school!'

Mwahaha. It's getting so I'm hardly needed at all. Except as Taxi Driver and Worker Of The Oven And Occasionally The Television.

It amazed me how quickly she took to Doing Stuff Herself, because she loves people doing stuff with her and preferably paying her lots of attention. Her elder brother is fine with you paying him attention, but he's happier if you let him do whatever it is himself (I relate). It's rather sweet.

The Exegesis Fairy: encouraging independence in four year olds since...errr...a couple of months ago?

Last day of term today. Yippee!

I Shall Wear Midnight, but not today

2010-12-04T19:39:00.003Z

So...finally I have read the latest Discworld book, I Shall Wear Midnight, and as with pretty much all Discworld books, it made me cry a bit. (In a good way).

Unusually, however, it wasn't the actual novel that made me cry (though it was awesome and heartwarming and generally brilliant) but the author's note at the end. I read it and I cried for the beauty of stories and for the transience of human life and because I will never, ever, in a million years, be able to write something as good.

That doesn't mean I won't try, though.

And that's kind of the point.

Sure, it was great to have Tiffany visiting Ankh-Morpork, finding out that they've finally made Angua a Captain in the Watch, seeing (just passing through) all kinds of characters half-forgotten and soon-remembered. It was amazing to have Tiffany fighting the latest evil and the Nac Mac Feegle and Granny and Nanny and casual mentions of Mightily Oats and all the rest, but the real beauty of it, the real gift, was the spirit of it.

The spirit inhabiting all Discworld books, which is simply that Anything Is Possible. That good can triumph, that you can find your way in the world, that the universe is your playground if you can think about it the right way. (And of course, the moral of the story as vocalised by Tiffany, which is that the best thing in the world is finding what you're good at and doing it).

Discworld books are those that should be read with caution, especially if you're dosed with the cold and painkillers, because they make you want to leap from your bed and change the world.

God works through weakness, and right now I have a lot to spare.

Or, to quote Granny Weatherwax in Carpe Jugulum, '

"Don’t chase faith, ’cos you’ll never catch it.” She added, almost as an aside, “But, perhaps, you can live faithfully.”"

And to the part of me that wants to know every step of the path, and wants to know HOW, I can only respond, 'Go do something good.'

A year ago my mother and I were being made a gourmet dinner by my nuttiest ever housemate. Today I am tucked up in my own house snuffling, and ill, and slightly chilly.

And even though my vocation seems to have vanished without trace...I'd still rather be here, and rather be this me, than anyone or anywhere else in the world.

When I am old, I shall wear midnight...but not today.

Today I shall wear red. Today I shall sing.

How about you?

Advent people

2010-12-01T11:45:00.002Z

'We are an Easter people, and our song is Hallelujah.'

At the minute, of course, strictly speaking, we are an Advent people, and our song is 'Why are we waiting, we are suffocating...'

Okay, maybe not.

But Advent is a time of preparation, of readying ourselves for Christmas and the coming of the Christ Child.

In our house, it seems mostly to coincide with The Coming Of The Blackbird Through the Hole In The Roof And Then To Our Bedroom Via The Hole In The Plaster. Not catchy, admittedly, but nobody should be confronted with a crazy bird at ten o'clock on a Sunday morning.

...

Insert your own joke here.

...

Anyways. It's cold. You may have noticed. It's pretty cold in the West Midlands, even though we seem to be escaping the worst of it, but yeesh. Do the heaters turn up any higher?

Hmm...actually, it seems they do. Excuse me a second.

So it's NCIS marathons (season 3, since you ask) and the duvet on the spare bed has been conscripted to provide extra warmth. Seeing as our proper duvet is two duvets joined by poppers, technically we're using three.

Whatever though, it's warm.

Advent is a time of preparation, which can seem kind of tricky when it's just endless winter and cold and snow and ice and your hands feel like they'll drop off with cold and... but it's worth it, in the end. Christmas, and remembering the original, is worth it.

We'll just have to bundle up till March.

INTERNET!

2010-11-18T09:43:00.004Z

Geez, so terribly happy! Happy happy happy! For I have INTERNET!

Mobile internet is just not the same thing.

YouTube! Blogs! Forums! Oh my.

So, what's been happening in the mean time?

Eleven and a half weeks ago, a chap in an Audi ran into the back of my little car.

Four days ago, I dropped my car off for repairs, as his insurance company had finally ponied up the dough to have it fixed.

Twenty-three phone calls, eleven weeks, mountains of stress. And it's not even over yet. It will be on the day I pick up my repaired car and drive it happily home.

Soon, I hope.

It's been a heck of a few months, people. Holes in the walls, rewiring of the house, cold, so very very cold, why are the heaters so rubbish?

But we're getting there. Okay, so we're saving up for the replastering and the redecorating and have I mentioned the antique bathroom? But we're getting there.

Speaking of antiques, Catherine Middleton has a great big honking one on her finger, I hear.

Which is nice for her. They seem very matey, which is lovely.

And she's very pretty, which is excellent, because good-looking royals can only help tourism revenues.

Facetious? Moi? How could you say such a thing?

PS: I have developed a worrying Phineas and Ferb addiction since I blogged last. Gotta love being a nanny.

I'm still alive...

2010-09-10T14:20:00.002+01:00

Said the small voice from the bottom of the well.

I started working on Tuesday. I am absolutely shattered. I'm having some other trouble that I hope to discuss once it's sorted out. I am loving looking after kids (two of them, to be accurate, and they're generally brilliant) but 2 hours of frisbee on Wednesday and then bike-without-stabilisers on Thursday and I'm jiggered.

It's been a long week, but we're moving into the new house on Tuesday.

And then, my friends, the real fun begins...

A job! A job!

2010-09-03T20:25:00.001+01:00

I got myself a job!

That is all.

Well, actually, about a million things have happened this week, but I'll tell you all about them at a later date.

Promise!

Upshot: I am now working in childcare. Oh yes. Go me!

INTERVIEWS!

2010-08-28T15:45:00.002+01:00

I has a passel of them.

Halle-freakin'-lujah!

Three for me, one for Better Half.

And the house buying is moving forward apace too.

I'll let you know how they go.

...

I also have a really strong urge to watch Season 2 of New Who. I have the DVDs, albeit stoed in someone else's house... Must do that soon.

Ahhhhhhh. Tension easing....

If I actually get the job(s) and BH does too, that would probably keep me happy for weeks. Months, even.

Singing the job-hunt blues

2010-08-23T15:56:00.003+01:00

I really hate unemployment.

This doesn't exactly make me unique, I know.

But I felt I should pass on the ultimate in job-search daftness.

I filled in an application form online for a post at *ahem* University.

The form came in 11 sections, and by the time that I had made it to the 'why should we give you this job?' section...

I had forgotten what I was applying for.

I think this says it all, really.

I went and looked through my tabs until I found it, and then waffled about how great I would be at the job.

But it was somewhat disheartening.

I'm going for quantity over quality at the minute: I have applied for 8 jobs today.

That's more than I applied for in the whole of the last week.

But I figure that I am a bright and brilliant candidate, and so somebody, somewhere, is bound to want to employ me.

Right?

It's the waiting that's hard. And the being ignored for no reason.

Kyrie eleison.

Srsly.

Getting Metaphysical with the BBC

2010-08-13T16:54:00.018+01:00

Favourite TV shows. Notice anything?

Sherlock

Life on Mars/Ashes to Ashes

Doctor Who

NCIS

Firefly

1. Practically all of them have a mystery element and

2. Most of them are made by the BBC.

I'm actually feeling rather proud that some money that I once had (yeah, we have TV at the moment, but we're staying somewhere that has one rather than actually owning a TV) went towards making such awesome stuff.

OK, I'm informed most of the Who and Sherlock money is actually American. But that's hardly the point. I'm being patriotic. We may be the place that brought the world The Jeremy Kyle Show, the Daily Mail (everything gives you cancer!), and Northern Ireland (I'm allowed to say it) but hey...

Sometimes we do good TV.

And sometimes we do great TV.

And while it's not exactly world peace or a cure for cancer, it does make the world a slightly better place.

And promotes understanding, to boot. No, really. An example:

Jacob is my favourite TWOP reviewer. And even though they stopped reviewing Who for some Utterly Spurious Reason, (BUT NOW THEY'RE BACK!!!!!!!!!! Ahem.) all episodes are better with a Jacob recap (except the rubbish ones, because it stops you from just Going With It and not thinking too hard).

He really doesn't understand the scary episodes, sadly for him. Not mythological enough, I suspect. They're Scary Episodes; they're about making you scream with fear, rather than about plot. (I actually did scream when I first saw Blink. Even though my head was saying 'now they'll look back, there'll be some loud musical punctuation, and there'll be a scary angel face' when it happened I jumped, squealed, and made all my housemates laugh at me.)

Anyway, he did a review of The Parting of the Ways where Rose, having been sent home to not die, is in the chippy with Jackie and Mickey. And she's moping (quite understandably) about being away from the Doctor and how life here is just sucky, "Get up, catch the bus, go to work, eat chips!" and how life with the Doctor was...more than that.

Actually, I'm just going to have to quote the whole thing. Sometimes real faith is like having taken the metaphysical Red Pill. And there's no way back up the rabbit hole. From here:

"And with the Bad Wolf watching over her shoulder, Rose in her Little Red Hoodie tries to explain the central truth of prophets, and how they seem crazy. "But what do I do every day, Mum?" Rose asks. "What do I do? Get up, catch the bus, go to work, come back home, eat chips and go to bed? Is that it?" Mickey's like, "You mean like everybody else, asshole?" It's the Red Pill conversation all over again -- and why the religious are so fucking insufferable. If you try to talk about feeling special, you're undeniably talking about being better than everybody else. But the thing with the Red Pill conversation is that the "real" shit, the weird shit world, is way worse than the normal world, in most ways, and the addiction to it has less to do with wanting to feel special and more with not wanting to take the easy way out: "But I can't!" Mickey pushes back with more of the superiority complex stuff, and Rose gets frustrated. For the same reason every saint eventually starts drawing weird diagrams. Rose protests and breathes and tries to get it together to tell the truth about her quest in a way where the change and the difference don't come up, and Jackie watches her, because this is the work she already did, in "World War III," that we saw Mickey still hadn't done in "Boom Town." That there's the truth that you have to live, now that you know about it, versus the lie that you didn't know you were living before. These moments always remind me of Delia, or more kindly, Daphne, or more kindly yet, Donna: They're not abandoning you if they're running toward something.

Rose: "It was...a better life. And I don't mean all the travellin' and seein' aliens and spaceships and fings -- that don't matter. The Doctor showed me a better way of living your life." And demanded it of you. So this is alchemy: the only reason she doesn't die (SPOILER!) like the other two is because she already did it last week, so she could be reborn and take the story home. Step whatever in the Hero's Quest: you come back to the village with magic powers, and everybody looks at you funny. She looks up and into their eyes, into Mickey's eyes, with a shadow of that kiss: "You know. He showed you, too." Mickey doesn't answer, and we won't see it for a couple scenes, but: this is where she got him. Right here. Rose somehow managed to make the impossible speech and get to him, and make him understand. And that's beautiful. The rest is just Davies's parsley on it. Rose: "That you don't just give up, you don't just let things happen. You make a stand. You say no. You have the guts to do what's right when everyone else just runs away, and I just can't...." She breaks off, stops talking, kicks the table...and runs. Faster than anything."

I would say I'm sorry that I'm like this, but the truth is that I'm not. I am slightly chagrined that I've been writing a whole (different: it had Spiderman in it and everything) post on this, and it's already been said rather better. But this is the beauty of Who. It lets you talk about stuff that you were having trouble expressing.

This insufferable Red Pill attitude which is put across rather well by Rose explains (partially) why I have my newfound Sherlock obsession. The plotting, casting, scripting...all of these would have made me a huge fan whatever, but there's something resonant in the theme that just grabs me by the throat.

Mycroft says to John Watson in A Study in Pink, "When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield. You've seen it already."

What he doesn't add, because he's Mycroft and not Watson, is this: and you can't NOT do something about it. You are compelled by forces beyond reason, beyond sense, beyond safety, to stick your own neck out and DO SOMETHING.

Less to do with thinking you're special, and more not wanting to take the easy way out. Pity us, if you can't understand us. While the selfish part of me just wants to be a special snowflake, the rest of me just refuses to take the easy way out.

There comes a point in most everyone's life when they see something of the battlefield. AIDS, poverty, war, famine, disaster, crime, hatred... it goes on and on. And with the crisis comes the opportunity, the question: Should I do something? And then depending on the answer, the follow-up, What should I do? What should I do with my life?

This is where you'll find me at the moment, gentle reader. Believing that:

1. God is amazing

2. Jesus and that whole Incarnating/living/dying/coming back from the dead thing is real

3. The world, good, love, hope: these are worth fighting for, and

4. What's more, because of 1. and 2., they're going to win.

Which leads to the question again.

What is it that I can do to (digressing into Christianese for a moment) make the Kingdom come?

Universalism of the Christian variety gets you some very funny looks. Should you express the opinion that Jesus is the Saviour of the world, the whole world, and that at the end of time there will be a restoration of all things and it will be completely freakin' awesome, you can be met with anything from mild surprise to blatant disbelief that all Christians don't actually want to condemn every second person they meet to endless fiery torment. (We're really not that bad, you know. Most of us sadly lack the awesomeness of Shepherd Book or Bishop Octavian from Flesh and Stone though).

In the meantime, I see the battlefield.

And I have this compulsion to Do Something about it.

I just wish I could figure out what that Something is. I thought it was being a priest, but clearly at the moment it is not. So.

In the absence of a Something, I go for doing the smaller, but no less significant, somethings. Give to charity; promote, insofar as I can, peace and love and justice; care for the environment; and generally try to do the right thing.

But I'm going to keep looking for the Something.

I couldn't possibly do anything else.

Tweet tweet

2010-08-12T12:09:00.002+01:00

Really gone and done it now.

Have joined twitter. Because I have nothing else to do.

@ExegesisFairy if you're into that sort of thing.

Problem is, I'm really not that interesting.

Especially not consistently interesting.

Possibly this is why my blogging is so sporadic.

Bored.

BORED!

I hate unemployment.

A thought for the day...

2010-08-08T11:57:00.005+01:00

There can, by definition, be no such thing as a, quote:

"new eternal song"

Sorry, Tim Hughes. I like you and all, but That Is Not What Eternal Means. The rest of the song is grand.

On a more positive note, I love Cannons by Phil Wickham. But then I'm a bit of a sucker for songs about God and the cosmos.

Also I like the tune. Music and lyrics? Win.

Plus, I can't wait for Sherlock tonight. Written by Stephen Moffat, and completely Tropetastic.

I love the BBC sometimes.

Errr...now what?

2010-07-31T11:29:00.002+01:00

Well, I didn't get the job.

Iz outrage, obviously. But that's the way it goes. So now neither me or BH have a job. Or anywhere to live. Great.

The question, of course, becomes: now what do I do? It seemed like the perfect thing. So its back to the drawing board.

Oh well.

Anybody need a maths tutor? I do science too, and I'm really rather good at it.

In the meantime, I shall continue scouring job listings and praying. Because really, what else can one do?

Dishes: an object lesson

2010-07-30T10:33:00.004+01:00

As it turned out, it wasn't the pizza that was the problem.

Allow me to explain.

I have some very dear male friends. They all share a house together, and it is always a joy to go and visit them, because it's a house where, as the fridge magnet says, "We don't believe in miracles: we rely on them!"

Unfortunately, the fact that they are all young men with busy lives and lots of things they like to do means that, well, household chores fall down the list a bit.

To this end, they have a rota. Which details who does the dishes and so on.

That's fine. But they like entertaining, and so there are often a lot of dishes. There's not a lot of excess money floating around, and they have more important things to buy than new dishes. Also fine.

Do you remember when your mother told you that you should NEVER use cracked dishes? And that you couldn't quite believe that just because there was a little crack or chip, it had suddenly turned your dish into a bacteria-fest?

Believe it, brothers and sisters. My digestive system begs you.

I went to their house. I brought soup. I heated the soup, in the microwave, with the slightly cracked and stained bowl, thinking this would be ok. I mean, I nuked it, for pity's sake!

It has taken a week of picking at little bits of food to get back to normal. A solid week, people. I was only just back to some semblance of normality by my interview yesterday.

Inicidentally, pray, please. We really need this job.

And, on a somewhat lighter note, one of my favourite takes on prophecy and prophetic gifting: De-Flaking the Prophetic. He had me from 'The Prophetic what?'

I'm declaring a pizza moratorium

2010-07-22T20:35:00.004+01:00

No, really. Starting this weekend, no more pizza for this fairy.

I am sweating as I write this (yes, yes, I know, TMI, all will become clear). That is because I have been lifting weights. Nothing insane, but pushing myself a bit to try and rid my body of the excess sugar.

Sugar, Fairy? I hear you query.

Glucose, then. I had pizza for dinner and then a slice of cake. And only a palm full of vegetables. We're moving in two days. That was all we had left. Well, BH got the other palm full.

Fifteen minutes later I'm lying in the foetal position groaning

Darn you, Mark Sisson! Thanks to you I'm now hypersensitive to when I eat wheat, (also thanks to not eating it much for a long time and then giving it up for a week).

I am, I think, in sugar shock, or carbohydrate shock, or something. Hence the pushups and shoulder presses and pitiful attempts at a one-legged squat.

Anyway, like I said, we're moving in two days. So all our stuff bar the bare bones is in an undisclosed location (well, it's in a garage. Two garages, actually) and we're living with two plates and a Hoover. All rental accommodation must be cleaned to a professional standard before leaving! Sigh.

Still, it'll be nice to get a break. My last day at work was Tuesday. Off to pastures new soon! (Hopefully.)

So, now what? Jobs, housing and all the rest

2010-07-13T15:44:00.003+01:00

I have been thinking.

(Can you hear the gears grinding?)

I have been thinking about life, and work, and money, and vocation.

What to do, what to do?

I have applied for a job that I really, REALLY want. A job that would be just the sort of things that I want to do, plus using my strongest skills, that will let me develop the ones I've got and do all this while benefiting my church.

Did I mention that I really, really want this job?

But that's as may be. Really really wanting a job is not the same as actually getting it (though I'm trying to think positive here).

What if I don't get it? What then of my vocation and my wish to serve the church (not to mention my pressing need not to starve, and my other need to live in a residential dwelling).

BH and I are buying a house together. Various family members have offered loans, and the area we're looking to live is cheap. So we're hopefully making an offer this week.

Ah, but what if I don't get the job? Well then...I'll get another one, I hope. And thus fulfill our needs to eat and live, and maybe even start paying off those aforementioned loans. And, of course, BH is looking for a job too.

Help. Help, God. I want to do this job. I think it fits with my vocation, and I want to earn a living too.

Plus my DDO called recently and wanted to know what was going on and I said...not for a few years. I want to be a priest. I do. But not now. I think...that I want to work out my vocation in non-ordained ways for a bit. And maybe to do other stuff unrelated to the above too.

Not to mention, thinking some distance into the future, what are the C of E's maternity policies like?

Eating less rubbish update #3: A conclusion on Primal Eating

2010-07-11T12:28:00.004+01:00

It has been a weekend in which I ate ice cream, and porridge, and all sorts.

And, funnily enough, I feel a lot better for it.

If 1% of people are coeliac and can't digest gluten at all, and 30% are intolerant, and some unknown percentage may be intolerant and have no obvious symptoms, then I think we can conclude that I am in whatever percentage it is who can deal with grains of whatever sort just fine.

Which is useful to know.

That's not to say I'm going to eat lots of them at every meal (or mainline Ben & Jerry's Half Baked, for that matter) but it'll certainly make breakfast a whole lot easier. No bread or pasta and very few potatoes, and not a lot of sugar... I can deal with just fine, thankyouverymuch. It's probably quite beneficial.

But I do like my oats.

The Primal eating experiment has been a worthwhile one, then, and one worth bearing in mind.

But for now, I think, I'm going to eat some bread smothered in butter with tomato soup. And maybe some tuna.

Mmmmm.

Food.

And maybe now I'll regain the energy to do hard exercise.

Eating less rubbish Update #2. Status: marginally less tired

2010-07-07T18:16:00.003+01:00

Did you know that cocoa without sugar in it actually tastes rather nice?

No, neither did I.

In other news, I wasn't quite so ridiculously hungry today, or so tired. My lunch was more substantial, which helped (nummy nummy chicken and spinach and pepper in olive oil and cider vinegar) but then I came home and had two cups of cocoa and a banana because I was starving and there wasn't anything else to eat. That helped.

Stew for dinner. Yum.

Anyway, I've now signed up to Elance in order to earn some extra money. They make you jump through some hoops to make sure you're a person and not a computer, which is useful, and then they let you bid for jobs.

Which is very exciting, I'm sure. Lots of people wanting ghostwritten ebooks, it seems. I'm almost tempted to write my own ebook, except that nobody would pay for it...and I haven't thought of anything to write about yet. I have loads of things I like...oh well, I suppose I could compile them all into a snarky commentary in the manner of Jezebel.com.

I think I probably go all over the place too often for writing anything other than a blog or short articles. On a blog you can waffle about anything. OK, nobody will read it if it's boring, but hey, it's all good practice.

Eating less rubbish update #1. Status: tired

2010-07-06T13:33:00.002+01:00

Urgh.

It is...Day 5? Yep, that's it...and I feel shattered. And hungry. I had breakfast and lunch, and I'm hungry.

This isn't particularly unusual, please note. It's not what I'm eating, it's probably that I'm not eating enough of it. No matter what I ate I would still be hungry, unless it was...chocolate, or something really sugary and fatty.

Lunch was also insufficiently big to make up for running after toddlers all morning. So...tired.

Oh well.

I could really use a nap right now, but no, I shall soldier on. And drink some more water. And maybe go buy an apple later.

Where have you been, huh?

2010-07-04T12:16:00.006+01:00

Dear readers,

A lot of things have been happening lately. Many lots of things. In no particular order:

I got turned down by the Bishop's Advisory Panel, so I'm not likely to be a priest any time soon,
I said yes to crack and dragged my clicking carcass to an osteopath,
My jobs (I have a second one now) are finishing in less than a month and I haven't got a new one yet,
BetterHalf and I are moving house (again, in less than a month) but we don't yet have anywhere permanent to go,
I'm working on improving my diet by reducing my intake of grains and sugar,
Oh, and I have caught a stomach bug which means that standing up and moving around is currently a bad idea.

So yeah. I'm a bit sick, and we have loads to do, so I've decided to make eating marginally more complicated. I am a clever person like that. But I figure that if my immune system needs bolstering at any time, it would be now, so why not?

The BAP was a bit of a shock, and not a pleasant one. I spent two days being cranky, one writing it all down, and most of the time thereafter either ignoring it or wondering what I was meant to do now. I went to Cov one Sunday shortly after, and there was a job advert in the notice sheet for a manager for the church. My church.
So...organising stuff, church work, and bossing people around? We have a trifecta, people. So I applied.

This was especially useful because my jobs finish at the same time my rent does...in approximately 20 days.

Unfortunately, filling in the form is not the same as getting the job.

And on the moving front... the house is an absolute mess of boxes, because with one small car we're moving stuff into storage (in different locations to boot!) over the next few weeks instead of all at once.

I got a second job two days a week with a lovely lady who runs a soft drinks company. It's a lot of printing and posting and stuffing envelopes, but hey, extra money, which will hopefully help with a) the osteopath and b) the moving house. But I can't really stuff envelopes from Lancashire, which is where we will be going at the end of the month (no jobs = no mortgage = no house.)

The osteopath has worked wonders after 3 sessions. I have one session left. And he gave me a discount on account of the lack of money, which was nice.

What am I going to do work wise? Well, I really hope I get this job. It would solve a lot of problems as well as being something that I really love to do. Frankly, jobs I can do with one hand tied behind my back are losing their appeal. If they ever really had any. If I don't get this job, then I hope and pray God has something better for me, and that I don't end up working in the boring end of admin for the rest of my natural life.

So, the food thing? Well, I love Stumptuous, and there was a link on there about grains, which linked to Mark's Daily Apple, a blog about 'Primal' eating (basic idea: we evolved to eat meat and vegetables and fruit. Grains, sugar, processed food...not really adapted to eat those, so they don't promote optimal health).

So I thought I'd give it a whirl.

This presents some challenges. First, I figure I would rather ease into it than crack it all at once. Second, trying to avoid pointless filler and just get meat and vegetables is quite difficult in some places (see dodgy Chinese restaurant where I may have picked up this bug). Third, when in possession of a bug, bland filler food like porridge seems very appealing.

Regardless, I'm going to try. And I'm going to start by making the following changes:

- a limit of one bowl of porridge a day, not two or three. And less sugar in it to boot.
- eat more eggs. I like eggs.
- have a 'proper' evening meal of meat and vegetables (note to self: look up some good sauces for that)
- two hours' weight training/week (no more, and preferably no less)
- more playing and messing around (very important)

Right, back to the money (I'm trying to work out how much we have - fun.)

I'll let you know how it goes.

Sadists I have known, and saying yes to Crack

2010-06-17T16:27:00.005+01:00

Well, first there was the lovely Jenny, a sports masseuse who, on my second treatment, actually braced herself against the wall to work out the kinks in my neck.

And with a smile and some cheery conversation while she was doing it.

Chirpractors are slightly better, at least you get warning.

But the osteopath I went to see on Tuesday probably takes the cake.

It is my own fault, though. I told him I wanted my neck and back better faster, and about Jenny the Lovable Sadist. So with much deep breathing on my part, I got various vertebrae 'adjusted'.

CRACK. CRACK-CRACK-CRACK.

'You ok?'
*breathes*
'Good. Once more...'

CRAAAACK.

My upper back is a bit tender, but, and it's a frakkin' miracle, my neck hurt not at all yesterday and a only a little today.

Booyah!

In other news, I can do a one-legged squat.

But only on one leg. The other one...well, I squat down, try and push back up, and wobble a bit before falling over.

Working on it.

I asked them to dance at the disco...

2010-05-16T17:15:00.002+01:00

But they said 'No.' The Bishop's Advisory Panel, that is.

So the future career of one Ms. Exegesis Fairy is in serious doubt here.

And with no real idea of what's going on!

Hooray.

Meh. God knows Her own business, right?

Er...right?

It was OK

2010-04-30T17:39:00.002+01:00

Well, I went to my Bishop's Advisory Panel. In about a week or so I find out if I have been recommended for training or not.

Or, as it is now apparently called, Bishop's Selection Advisory Panel.

Or something.

It was ok.

It wasn't brilliant. It wasn't awful. It was...ok. And cards were being played fairly close to respective chests at any rate.

We'll just have to see...

Continuing the Dicsworld theme...Susan, boots and goth heels

2010-03-28T20:33:00.006+01:00

I can't be the only one who's quite looking forward to Easter Saturday so that I can...err... symbolically bury myself in my duvet and have a nice nap.

So much to do, and I'm not even clergy. Holy Week, here we come. Hold on to your hats!

Anyway, my beloved black boots have given up on me. I love these boots. Knee length, kind of piratey with their fold-over top, and completely flat. The streets around here are not kind to a woman with a tray of teacups and high heels.

There really is a good reason I'm carrying cups through the streets, by the way. It's not just for fun.

Regardless, I have decided that what I really want are the kind of boots I had several years ago. I had a brown pair that laced up to my knees, and after they gave up on me, a grey pair which did likewise. Victoriana, but longer.

But what I really, REALLY wanted was a black pair, and never could I find any in my budget. Or in my ideal heel height (i.e. practically flat). Searching teh Internetz has produced a lot of this sort of thing:

But not, until fairly recently, much else. I mean sure, they have laces, but not exactly the look I'm going for.

Anyway, I'm hoping if I find some boots with a too-high heel, they can be...reduced.

Ebay is completely my friend. It likes me. And so I shall find for myself a pair of black Victoriana-style lace up knee boots. And I shall love them and hug them and call them George (Or Albert, I suppose) and I shall work the Susan Sto Helit look for all that I'm worth (the movie version, please note) because she's completely and totally awesome.

Yes, I know it's spring. I'll still be wearing boots for a while yet regardless.

So there.

for picture of Susan. Yay! Susan!

Moist von Lipwig and other people the CofE can learn from

2010-02-19T10:01:00.005Z

SO! On the exciting VOCATIONS front: There is movement, praise the Lord. Things actually happening is good. Filling in forms, writing things down, yadda yadda, hooray!

On the wider Church of England front: Well, there was some excitement regarding the Synod, where the group talking about women bishops were essentially told, "Right. We have given you an impossible job. Do it faster, dangit!"

It's not that I like the idea of passing legislation taking a long time. It's not that I'm entirely at home with the idea of...'meh, maybe it'll take a bit longer'. Really. But it's not going to be the easiest thing to do, huh? Trying to keep everybody happy when very few people are happy to begin with is a pretty thankless task.

I am of the opinion, however, that the church needs to take a hint from Moist von Lipwig, creation of the indomitable Sir Terry Pratchett, known to his fans as Pterry. (Don't ask why).

Moist is of the opinion that you need to do things as fast as possible, once you've decided to do them. Preferably within the day. This swings people from one normal into another, and while it can be a little disorientating, people are remarkably adaptable. So they just adjust, and pretty soon the new 'normal' has always been normal.

There are probably also things the C of E could learn from Vetinari, now I think of it, but I can't think of what they would be off the top of my head...

The Exegesis Fairy gotted married!

2010-02-02T17:04:00.006Z

And so here are a few of our official photographs, courtesy of the wonderful Simon Brown. Do you like my wellies?

She's back...the Exegesis Fairy vs. Household Clutter

2010-01-28T14:13:00.005Z

Well, there was Christmas, there was New Year, there was the wedding, the honeymoon, and now...

The Marriage. Dun dun DUUUUNN!

Christmas not the best, New Year very quiet, wedding insane (happy pink haze of utter exhaustion had set in by 1pm) and honeymoon wonderful. It's good to be back.

So BetterHalf (or should that now be DearHubby?) and I arrive back, immediately shift tons of boxes into our new house (read: cupboard with a bed in) and I'm up to my eyeballs in clutter. CLUTTER!

I'm sorry, I don't like clutter. I can live with untidiness, really. I can live with mess and disorder, up to a point. I cannot live with the piles of boxes and the inexorable feeling that we Just Don't Have Enough Space. Especially as there's more to come this weekend. And we haven't even GOT most of our wedding presents yet.

Help.

So today during my lunch break (which this is) I disassembled a bookcase kindly donated by the church, "We don't want it, it's not on the inventory, take it."

So there will be somewhere to store more books, and this is good.

I will clear the clutter. I will.

I made the first steps over the course of the last week. I've donated, recycled and put aside to give away at least two boxes full of stuff. I've recycled the cardboard boxes as I go along. I've mercilessly chucked out anything extraneous.

But it's not enough. The house is just too small.

I will clear the clutter. I will.

In the meantime, I hope nobody else wants to give us anything. I think the house might explode.

Does anyone else remember The Tribe?

2009-12-15T21:27:00.003Z

Go on, you know you do. It was this show from New Zealand and it used to be on Five, back when it was Channel 5 (which was prior to it being Channel Five, by the way).

Regardless, it was about a bunch of teenagers living in a world where all the adults had been wiped out by The Virus.

Anyways, in the first five episodes, we have (in no particular order): a tech geek, the heroine, a birth, teenagers joyriding in a police car with others hanging onto the sides (they have rollerblades on. Natch) and the introduction of LEX, who I always detested.

Does anyone remember it? I used to watch the later seasons especially, in my Dad's house of a morning when we stayed for the weekend.

I think my first crush (or at least first crush on a fictional character, my memory is fuzzy) was on Jack, loveable nerd and All Grown Up (well, more grown up) by season 3.

Ah-HA! That's it. I can now officially blame Michael Wesley-Smith (who played Jack, and was born in the same year as BetterHalf) for my love of the skinny geek boy.

All. His. Fault.

Not that I mind. Smart + Geeky + Hot = Very, Very Good Indeed.

Oh...I am So Ill it's not even funny. However, the ibuprofen (yes, yes, I managed to butch up and take two) has helped with my skin aching (why does my skin ache?). And I don't feel like I'm going to throw up any more. Yay me.

I've been lying in bed most of the day either sleeping or watching Robin Hood or watching The Tribe.

I LOVED that show. Actually, both of those shows (though only the first season and a half of Robin Hood, to be honest. It goes a bit downhill...anyway, the first episodes are a riot of anachronistic hilarity, and I love them dearly.)

And The Tribe has about fourteen thousand episodes, so you know, it'll keep me occupied for a while yet. Yay!

I've got a 2x2 matrix (or, why chick flicks suck if you're a guy)

2009-12-11T10:00:00.009Z

So here's my theory. I was reading on TV Tropes (tvtropes.org, I'm not linking, I'll be there all day) and a comment made by one troper struck me (I paraphrase):

In chick flicks, the guys are either nice guys, jerks with a heart of gold, a bitch in sheep's clothing or flat-out evil. Not a lot of nuanced characterisation there.

So!

I have come up with my own little scale. NO! Even better! A 2x2 matrix!

Ok, I did a business module a year for my entire degree. The 2x2 matrix is engraved on my psyche. Live with it.

Ahem.

Your chances of ending up with the heroine depend on what sort of movie you're in. Bitch in Sheep's Clothing (aka Crouching Nice Guy Hidden Jerkass)? You're probably dating her already, but she'll see you for what you are and dump you before we finish the jumbo bag of Minstrels. Bad Guy? Well, you're probably a secondary character anyway. Your chances were never good. Nice Guy? Pretty good chance, the trope being Single Woman Seeks Good Man. But...

Come in Jerk with a Heart of Gold, your time is up. If one of these exists in a chick flick, he will trump all other possible combinations. Because, apparently, no woman can resist a man who's mean to everyone but her. And cute kittens. And When A Jerk Loves A Tsundere makes up half of all chick flick plots, ever.

Sadly, unlike business matrices, I don't think this matrix will make me rich. Oh well.

Anyway, examples!

Nice Guy: Ryan Reynolds in The Proposal, Emmett in Legally Blonde, that guy in The Devil Wears Prada (which is mostly an excuse for Anne Hathaway to wear Chanel boots, but whatever). Hugh Grant in...pretty much anything (About A Boy and Bridget Jones's Diary excepted, when he's The Jerk).
Jerk with a Heart of Gold: That guy in He's Just Not That Into You. Wossname in How to lose a guy in 10 days. Mr Darcy in Pride and Prejudice. Mark Darcy in Bridget Jones's Diary.
Bitch in Sheep's Clothing: Too many to name. First Guy/current boyfriend in most chick flicks. Warner in Legally Blonde...
The Bad Guy (aka Villain): Cal in Titanic.

See, if you read that list, you'll understand my point. These men, for the most part, have little to no actual personality. I remembered maybe two or three names without looking them up. They exist merely as foils for the heroine, who is...well, she has personality traits...after a fashion. Ok, klutzy is not a personality trait, but you know. The women's characterisation generally sucks too, but at least there is some attempt made at it.

More examples! We must have more examples!

I wish I was back in Brisbane...

2009-12-02T18:13:00.002Z

Okay, so I came home to find a new housemate who really loves to cook and is absolutely fabulous at it. So it's not all bad.

But Brisbane was totally awesome and so lovely and warm and full of friendly people and...sigh.

I miss it. And now it's back to work and trouble 't mill and whatever.

No rest for the wicked, I'm told.

I've now gotten over the jet lag though. Took several days. I really don't recommend doing Brisbane to Birmingham back to back. Brisbane-Singapore-Dubai-Birmingham-collapse with exhaustion.

And now I'm packing again, to move again. Oh frabjous day.

Oh, we're going to Australia...

2009-11-12T17:14:00.003Z

Sing it if you know it!

Anyways, The Exegesis Fairy would like you to know that she will think of you, in cold, wintry England (and elsewhere) when she is sunning herself on the beach (in a kaftan and a big hat and sunglasses) in Brisbane. And I'm going jet-skiing. It just looks like so much fun, how could you NOT want to?

Oh man, am I looking forward to it.

So yes, my housemate gets the place to himself for a fortnight (well, unless we get our long-promised housemate in the mean time), and I get a lovely holiday with the Better Half. Who is having to do work on this trip, but we can't have everything, I guess.

See you soon!

We remember...

2009-11-08T18:03:00.003Z

The high points of today's sermon (sorry PJH, I'm stealing them, but I'm sure you don't mind):

The opposites of remember are:

Forget, which we must not do.

Dismember, which is all to common in war, be it bodies dismembered, minds dismembered, or families dismembered by death or injury.

We remember Christ at the Eucharist. We remember how he was dismembered for us, so that, though we were dismembered from God, He will remember us. And we also remember Christ in the Eucharist lest we forget how wonderful and terrible a thing it was that He did for us.

Remembrance Sunday is always a tricky one. We had lots of servicemen and servicewomen, lots of prayers for peace. We remembered all those who died in war, whatever side, fighting or not. I think that's probably a start.

So...Anglican Communion issues, part 392

2009-11-05T20:30:00.004Z

Uganda has decided that just putting people in prison for having gay sex...well, it's not good enough.

So instead we're going for: criminalising homosexuality, people who practice it, people who talk about it or 'promote' it...yeah.

http://www.amnestyusa.org/document.php?id=ENGUSA20091019001

And the Church of Uganda (part of the Anglican Communion) is backing it.

Oh, and did I mention the death penalty part? No? Allow me to mention the death penalty part.

Pernicious, isn't it? And very reminiscent of

"First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak out for me."

Lord, have mercy.

Sing, sing, siiiiiing...with conditioner on your head

2009-10-28T10:32:00.005Z

So we had Songs of Praise with us over the weekend. And it was...fun and interesting. Oh yes. Each programme took SIX HOURS of recording (2 sound, 4 vision) and that doesn't even make ONE PROGRAMME! Crazy.

I'm sitting in my house at the moment, on my laptop, with a bizarre mix of oil, water and glycerin on my head.

Just. Don't. Ask.

Ok. It's my day off. I was reading last night, and I thinks to myself, I thinks: humectant + emollient = a fair approximation of conditioner. Most conditioners also have protein of some description, but I don't seem to need that so much. So I decided to mix up some stuff and put it on my head. And then leave it on overnight.

Bonus: I know I'm not allergic to any of the ingredients, as I've used them on my skin before, and I know how they work. Thanks, Wikipedia!

I'll wash it off after I finish cleaning the house, and let you know if it makes my hair a crazy sticky mess or beautiful and shiny.

Oh, and don't forget, The Exegesis Fairy is going to be on TV on 6th December. Look for the curly ginger woman in the choir stalls, if you're watching!

<>

Yes, I was born in the 80's, why do you ask?

2009-10-11T16:40:00.004+01:00

The vast majority of television provokes in me a profound 'Meh.'

And as I don't have a television, it means that I don't watch a lot of the shows that come along.

But this does mean that when I come across a show, it's generally,

1. Pretty good, if it has survived.
2. Gained a cult following already.
3. Pretty darn good.

And so it is with Life on Mars, which I LOVE. And Ashes to Ashes, which I probably love even more.

I would imagine that's because:
1. The protagonist is female (and pretty awesome, if nuts)
2. Gene Hunt gets even more character development (and more great lines)
3. I was born in the 80's, so I know all the music, by osmosis if nothing else.

There's a third season coming up in April. Awesomeness.

In the mean time, the 80's are back (again) and this time it's makeup, electric blue everything (eek), and pussybow blouses (those I could do without as well).

Repeat after me, self: Just because Keeley Hawes is so beautiful that she would look good in a sack, does not mean that blue eyeshadow and huge hair are good ideas. Or those one-shoulder tops that expose your bra to all and sundry. No. Just say no.

Atchoo!

2009-09-25T11:23:00.002+01:00

My office is known locally as The Dank Pit.

Not to be confused with the verger's Dank Pit, but still pretty interesting. I'm trying to clear it out, and getting a lot of dust-related sneezing for my trouble.

Still, going to see Better Half this weekend, and getting a new car! I hope. Finally. Maybe.

It took four phone calls to set up the insurance. Sigh.

Leading worship in trousers

2009-09-16T12:48:00.008+01:00

This was originally intended to be a comment on Beauty Tips for Ministers (please copy and paste, the coding is screwed so every time I put a link in a post it disappears):

http://beautytipsforministers.com/2009/09/14/skirts-pretty-and-hiddy

But it just got longer and longer and we started to get into deeper water, so I've moved it here instead.

Peacebang, fashionista and clergyperson extraordinaire, is dead against wearing trousers when leading worship.

Please note, just when leading worship. Not at the office, not when at church but not leading, Just. When. Leading. Worship.

Ok, now I've attempted to head off the useless discussions engendered when people don't read the whole post, I'll come back.

I always wear trousers when in church and preaching or reading or whatever.

Course, I only own two skirts (1 summery in blue/green, and 1...rather like a black version of the red skirt pictured in Peacebang's post. And mine is rather too "Let's SALSA, baby!" for church, IMO) so I wear trousers, always.

I had a personal reasoning for this: I feel that black trousers are less distracting on me than a skirt.

But I thought for a bit, and then figured out that the justification came after the reality. Why?

I feel very vulnerable in a skirt. Especially in front of an audience. At other times, it's fine, but not leading worship.

Anything that calls attention to my legs in that setting makes me really uncomfortable. Obviously, skirts don't actually call attention to one's legs. Well, not church-appropriate ones anyway. But I have this crazy idea that trousers somehow de-emphasise your legs (you can see they exist, but they're covered, you know?). I know...it doesn't seem to make sense.

But I don't want to wear a skirt to lead worship because I wear skirts...on a date. (Not any date I've had recently, but if the occasion called for dressing up, you know). Thus skirt = relationships and dating in my head. Trousers = serious business, or just everyday life. Smart trousers = this is a job, and I am doing it to the best of my ability, looking as beautiful as I can without looking like I'm trying to be all sexy. I don't wear skirts to preach, just like I wouldn't wear bright fuschia lipstick, or clothes that are too tight, or even clothes that would be fine on a regular office day.

Public worship is worth giving your best to. And for me, that means trousers and a blouse.

Funny, isn't it?

I have arrived

2009-09-09T14:27:00.002+01:00

And I am in the Dark Ages here, seriously. My house has no phone and no Internet connection. Argh. Still, I will endeavour to be posting again when I am able to communicate with the outside world.

New job is awesomely amazing.

TTFN.

Take that, style websites!

2009-08-25T17:44:00.005+01:00

So remember how I was talking about trying to figure out which colours suit me? Well, I decided to do some quizzes. In between the mind-expanding excitement that is packing up all my stuff again. Yesterday: shoes. today: starting on 'random bits and pieces'. Books are gone. Half my clothes are stashed in a suitcase. My room looks like a bomb has gone off in a box factory. Sigh.

But no matter! I am vindicated by The Knitting Tango which confirms what I already knew. Unlike the quizzes, which said, "You suit camel!" Oh no, you're not getting me with that old schtick. It makes me look like I'm going to expire imminently.

Say it loud: I am a High Contrast redhead, and I love my black. And my bright pink. And my red, blue, green...

In fact, all the colours (or at least most) that are in my wardrobe right now. Yeesh, nothing like taking a test to tell you what you already know.

But never mind!

I'm looking up sacraments at the moment. Definition, what constitutes a sacrament, why isn't everything a sacrament (in some traditions, it is, sort of), and all that jazz.

Write soon, kittens!

Who wears the trousers?

2009-08-20T13:59:00.002+01:00

Apparently, not me.

Let me be clear: I live in jeans. With occasional forays into trousers, rarely into dresses, and even more rarely into skirts.

But I am being thwarted in my search for a new pair of trousers.

I have a dressy-but-not-really black pair, a pseudo-suit black pair, and a pinstripe pair that match my suit jacket.

I wish for a pair of trousers in something other than black. I also wish them to fit, and I lastly wish them to be work-appropriate for my new job.

Even Marks and Spencer has let me down. Though they do have nice cardigans in this year.

They have blouses too, but I have a whole...2 of those, so I'm ok on the blouse front. I don't think I really need to wear them every day.

Speaking of blouses, what's up with the size inflation? My new Dorothy Perkins blouse is a size 6. What. Is. Up. With. That?

I have tops in Small, 6, 8, 10, and 12. I ask you.

I'd really like a consistent sizing system. Then I wouldn't have to guess so wildly about whether something's going to fit.

Pretty please?

To R and N

2009-08-19T12:36:00.003+01:00

An apology.

Two apologies, actually. It's been several years since this happened and I'm still too chicken to apologise to your faces, were I able to locate said faces. Sorry number one.

Sorry number two: I don't know if you remember. But way back when, I thought some fairly nasty (not to mention wrongheaded) things about you. And I wrote them down. And you found them.

I'm an utter chicken, thus I couldn't bring myself to apologise when I found out several weeks later. In fact, I'm pretty sure both of you have forgiven me, and utterly forgotten.

But it was a dreadful witness. And mean and small-minded. Because I was, at the time, pretty mean and small-minded. Still am, but probably less so.

I'm sorry. I was wrong. Forgive me.

This is grace, that people (and God) forgive us when we don't deserve it.

Thank you for the grace you showed me.

Maybe someday I'll actually say sorry in person. For now, this is all the meagre amount of bravery I'm capable of. But grace increases, I'm told. So we'll see.

For now, to all the people who might actually read this, you know one of my secrets.

Goodbye secret. I won't miss you one tiny little bit.

Because it's so horrific you have to...

2009-08-13T10:29:00.005+01:00

Laugh, or cry, or whatever.

The blogosphere is going nuts over the proposed US healthcare reform.

I could comment on how You Don't Know What Socialism IS, Idiots on Fox News, or Why Isn't Everyone Outraged By This Lack Of Provision in a Developed Nation? (As opposed to just quite a lot of people.)

But no. For it would put up my blood pressure. So I will pray, and pray some more, and present for everyone's edification...Stephen Hawking and the Government Death Panels.

Stephen Hawking: An American newspaper claimed:

"People such as scientist Stephen Hawking wouldn't have a chance in the UK, where the National Health Service would say the life of this brilliant man, because of his physical handicaps, is essentially worthless,"

From the Telegraph.co.uk

The fact that Stephen Hawking IS British and gets treated by the NHS on a regular basis...bah, whoever lets facts get in the way of a good story? They had to print a retraction and all, which makes me feel slightly better, but who reads those?

And...

The Government Death Panels: They exist, oh yes, they exist. But not in our Orwellian NHS, oh no. In the wonderful free-market economy of healthcare that is the US of A:

"You have no idea what it’s like to be called into a sterile conference room with a hospital administrator you’ve never met before and be told that your mother’s insurance policy will only pay for 30 days in ICU. You can't imagine what it's like to be advised that you need to “make some decisions,” like whether your mother should be released “HTD” which is hospital parlance for “home to die,” or if you want to pay out of pocket to keep her in the ICU another week. And when you ask how much that would cost you are given a number so impossibly large that you realize there really are no decisions to make. The decision has been made for you. "Living will" or no, it doesn't matter. The bank account and the insurance policy have trumped any legal document.

If this isn’t a “death panel” I don’t know what is."

From sobeale.blogspot.com

Lord have mercy.

You don't bring me hours any more...

2009-08-08T08:48:00.005+01:00

Why do we work such long hours? I've been wondering this, lately. Work, eat, sleep. Repeat. Try to carve out time and energy for other things. Not so noticeable among my childless student/post-student friends, but still. It's good to be able to give each other hours. Not just an hour, or a few minutes.

But there's so much of the hamster-wheel sometimes that we sometimes want to scream, "STOP THE WORLD! I WANT TO GET OFF!"

Employers are supposed to be down with the new stuff, the flexible working, the family commitments, and so on and so on. Yeah. Yet we apparently work the longest hours in Europe. So sayeth the TUC survey:
http://www.thisismoney.co.uk/news/article.html?in_article_id=416057&in_page_id=2

So why do most people still work the equivalent of a full-time job? Or more? Are our working practices aligned with our priorities in life?

BetterHalf and I have now finished the pre marriage course. The last session required you to write down, in order, your top five priorities.

Mine went something like: Relationship with God, Relationship with BetterHalf, Health, Vocation, Friends and Family.

Which led me to thinking: is my life in balance? Or is it totally out of whack?

And to the conclusion that I am as guilty as anybody else here. Sure, I work part-time at the moment, but in September I'll be five days a week, full time, being paid peanuts for the privilege, scraping to keep fed and clothed.

Because the church tells me to. Because I want to be a vicar, and with that privilege comes awesome responsibility and the expectation of complete insanity and overwork. (Perhaps I'm being unfair: most people GET that vicars can't be everywhere and do everything. Quite a lot of vicars don't. That's why the good ones have clear boundaries, and the rest are headed for a crunch.)

I may have to swap out one or more of my days to a job that pays money, just to keep body and soul together. Fine. I get why I'm going to be working full-time hours. I need the ministry experience. Cool. Bet they wouldn't expect it if I had children or other people to support, but that's another topic/rant.

I get why anybody on a minimum-wage job is working as many hours as can be got. Body and soul together, right? Especially if you have kids. I can work 25 hours a week on a little above minimum wage happily, and have money over, because I live in a room in a house, don't drive an awful lot, have a fiancé to share cooking with, am generally stingy with money, and so on and so on.

But there are all these people who are earning three, four, five times what I make an hour. Why do they work such long hours? Will the company not survive without them? Or is it...

Oh...I've got it now.

Say I decided, in my infinite wisdom, that I would be much more effective if I worked, say, 32 hours a week instead of 40. That's 4 full days instead of 5. Fine. This saves my employer money, makes me happier (and thus probably more productive when I AM working) and reduces my stress (and childcare requirements if I had kids), while increasing my time with my family/friends and making me less utterly exhausted.

And the company saves 1/5th on my salary.

Therein lies the issue, I suppose. In this hypothetical scenario, in which I am somehow well paid, I can afford a 20% pay cut. Would my company expect me to get the same amount of work done in less time? Would they just up and fire me for suggesting a reduction in hours?

Would they decide not to promote me as I clearly don't work as hard as the other guys? Is that the issue here? Or are they so inflexible that they don't think anyone working less than 50 hours a week can be doing a good job? (In which case this turns into a rail-against-the-culture thing).

Would the loss of income lead directly to my inability to pay the bills and being thrown out on the streets? Not in this hypothetical instance, but if they decide, in the midst of a recession, that part-timers clearly aren't pulling their weight...

I have been pondering this because of the new issue of Youthwork magazine. They're doing a Big Picture issue, and so talking about the future of youth work, the church, youth evangelism, etc etc.

Points raised in just one of the many articles :

There’s no problem with people training to be counsellors, preachers, youth workers, worship leaders, children’s workers; but it will only be those churches with deep pockets that can employ team ministries. Will those churches inevitably go on to create monopolies? Will they drain vital people and vital ‘resources’ from other churches?

In answer to the questions: Monopolies? I guess so, possibly. But if they're smart, they'll...not so much 'plant' as seed churches, or take over churches that are dying and have no money, and maybe they can turn them around. And they will take cues from the locality and culture as to what the needs are (aside from the biggies, like Jesus and discipling and mission, for example).

Will they take people and resources from other churches? Well...depends on the people. Maybe the main question here is: how do we help our world? How do we make it right? We live in a broken world, sweet peas. Only God can make it right. We are Her instruments, but it's Her battle plan we're following here. So in answer to the second question, I don't know. But if the same work is getting done, can that still be okay?

Another point the author makes is the increasing professionalisation of church. The idea being that church should not be a catered meal, it should be a bring and share lunch.

Yeah...but that's going to require a culture change, which are often and necessarily gradual. You need, therefore, a vicar who wants to see lots of lay involvement. A vicar who preaches mission. You need prayer, you need lots of prayer. And you need time and inspiration to reverse our apathy at doing anything. Not to mention that, depending on your theology, there are things only vicars should be doing. Then again, that shouldn't include "everything that is even tangentially religious", so I don't know if that's a huge problem, I'm just mentioning it. Maybe someone else can provide some input here?

[rant on]You want to know a reason WHY there's such a lack of volunteers? Well, there are lots of reasons. But the one that burns me up it this: if you agree to do one thing, people try and foist other things on you too. I know, I know, church is about giving as much as receiving. Yes. But we are so desperate for volunteers that if we get ONE we foist everything on them. NO. No dice.

This means challenging the consumerist culture that exists in our hearts and minds and churches. It means praying for breakthrough, for willingness to give, and serve, and what have you. AND it sometimes means Doing Less Church Stuff so we can Do More Mission Stuff.[rant off]

The author ends with,

That’s why the future is for amateurs and part timers. The drive to spiritual maturity that is so evident within New Testament is an effort to make all of us Olympian level disciple-makers, not just a few. Come on, you know it makes good mission sense. Making espressos in your local coffee house three days a week, leading a church that meets in the coffee shop for the rest of it…

We live in hope. But that just seems like a lovely thought, unless you're energetic and single and have no extraneous responsibilities. Still, I maintain the principle can be sound.

And maybe, if we are part-timers, we can bring each other hours. And days, and weeks, and months, and years, and lifetimes. We can bring the whole of ourselves to the table, and share.

Shopping with BH, and an Unfortunate Haircut

2009-08-06T15:41:00.005+01:00

The shopping trip in question lasted less than two hours from arriving at the car park to shoving everything in the back seat, and Better Half is now fully prepared for all that our totally awesome winter holiday (holiday for me, conference + holiday for him) can afford him.

He even bought (though this won't do him much good in Australia in November) a pair of jeans, something he has always disliked, just because it made me happy. I'm so proud right now. Of him, or of my feminine wiles? Meh, make up your own mind. Could even be both or neither.

So he's all set, which is great.

I, on the other hand, have a grand total of three pairs of shorts, and one pair is a size too big and needs to be held up by judicious belting and the power of friction. Great. But I do have a couple of tankini thingies - you know, like a bikini but with short-type things instead of those ridiculous knicker-like things which make me feel self-conscious, and a sort of vest-style top. They're cute. T-shirts and hats I have aplenty. It'll be fine.

I've also been trying to figure out 'my colours', as in, what colours make me look good, and which ones make me look like, in the words of my maternal grandmother, 'another clean shirt will do you!' (i.e. you look like you're going to die imminently)

This is proving more difficult than I first anticipated. But, on the plus side, it means I either look equally good/bad in all the colours I like (which are many and varied) or I'm missing out on the fact that camel makes me look really good (I hate most shades of that colour, I'm not wearing it. Not even with the promise of looking really good dangled in front of me). So meh. I'll carry on with wearing whatever I look at that makes me go 'Oooh...'

ANYWAY, as part of this style overhaul I also decided to have a little bit of a hairstyle change.

Nothing too drastic, you understand. But having seen (for reasons relating to...actually, I don't know why) Titanic for the first time in years (you know I think I had a crush on Leonardo diCaprio after that film came out...), I decided that hey, Kate Winslet's hair is pretty darn wonderful (the costumes also make me drool with envy) and some long layers couldn't hurt. Plus, if I hate them, I have time to grow them out a bit before the wedding.

So, a picture of Rose hair to give you some idea of what I was going for here (from jennylafleur's excellent website):

Great. But those are long layers, and I stupidly tried to do them myself. And then I decided to change the side on which I part my hair...I'm really, really fortunate that
a) I have curly hair, so mistakes are less obvious, and
b) I hid the scissors from myself, to prevent any 'evening up' of the sides.

Yeah.

I'm making out like it's really bad, it's not.

It actually turned out okay, though I'm going to take Housemate!S up on her offer to trim it and even things up a bit.

And now, as an added bonus, the world can see that I really do look like my little doll thing.

Wow.

Not that it's news to most of you.

I shall now go eat, because my stomach is complaining at me. Ta-ta for now.

Out of the Saltshaker

2009-07-27T08:41:00.002+01:00

I've only been reading this book for a couple of days, but it's great. I mean, it is. The whole premise (that nobody, including God, wants you to do the kind of evangelism that makes people cringe and run) is a good one to start with, but this, the expanded and revised edition, is great. Okay, yes, it's a very evangelical sort of...everything. Book, style, approach, whatever.

But you know, it sort of works. And it has had the uncanny effect of making me excited that the kind of stuff that I do every day is somehow worthwhile in the cause of Showing People Jesus is Badical (ahem, I may have been watching too much Kim Possible.)

ANYWAY, I've got to the part where the author explains how the life of Jesus is characterised by love and holiness and obedience all at once. Okay, so far so predictable. And that they're all intertwined, uh huh, and that they're about being true to the light you've been given. (This is something of a paraphrase).

Huh? Well, when the fella comes to Jesus looking for a discussion, "Rabbi, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" and Jesus responds with the Pharisaical equivalent of,
"And what did you learn in primary school, young man?" he parrots off the love-God-wholly-and-love-neighbour-as-self bit.
"Great!" says Jesus, "That's the stuff."
"But who is my neighbour?" says the fella, either trying to justify himself, trying to have a theological discussion rather than a lesson in practical theology, or for some other reason.

Jesus tells the story of the Good Samaritan, and asks not "Who is your neighbour?" but "Who was the neighbour in this situation?" and then says, "Go and do likewise." Live up to the light you have received.

The reason for this longwindedness is to come to this point: that if you want to know who Jesus is, what He does, what He can do for you, then as good a place to start as any is by doing what he says.

Worked for the disciples, I guess! They didn't really know much about him to begin with (or this is the impression I get) so they followed him around and learned by doing.

The author's suggestion, then, for those who feel that they have too many doubts to follow Jesus honestly, is this:

Tell God (or the four walls, if that is who you think you are speaking to) that you want to find out if Jesus is truly God and that, if you could feel more certain, you would follow him. Then begin to read the Gospels every day. Each day, as you read, something will probably hit you and make sense. Whatever that is, do it as soon as you can.

I think this is a great idea. So great an idea that I'm going to have a little go. The start of Matthew, I should point out, is not the best place for this (at least for me).

Okay.

"You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven."

Obviously, everyone is going to get hit by something different. But it's an interesting experiment, nonetheless.

"And what do stars do?...They shine."

I can totally haz job now.

2009-07-12T22:14:00.003+01:00

Lolspeak, hence kittens. Awww.

...

And now to business. I think I have a job. Oh yes indeedy.

So...this means several things.

1. I will be moving house, again, in September, and starting a full-time job as Assistant Verger and Lay Pastoral Assistant to Big M's, in a city about 80 miles from where I am now.

2. BetterHalf will be here until we get married, after which...er...well, working on it. So I'll be moving house again again in January.

3. I haz job. Go me. Or rather go God, who's nice and likes me, apparently.

4. I'm leaving my current job. And this is kind of sad, actually. I really enjoy what I do. Almost all of it, in fact, which is more than most people can say. Even if little girls see me as a threat to their romantic ambitions with teenage boys. (It's a medium-to-long story, if you want to know you can ask).

5. The C of E is going to be moderately happy with me. Probably.

I can haz job now?

2009-07-10T16:52:00.005+01:00

I should accompany any lol-speak with a picture of a cute kitten, so here's a picture of a cute kitten.

Anyway, I have this job interview tomorrow. If I get it, then all shall be...interesting. There will be a lot of stuff to work out, particularly as regards Better Half, accommodation, his job, my new job, blah blah blah.

It will all work out regardless. Whether I worry or not. I know this. Jesus said so, and even if he hadn't it would still be common sense. But I worry.

Prayer appreciated. Especially that

1. I get to the interview without getting lost.
2. The interview goes well.
3. Generally, that everything else goes well too.

Good news, everybody!

2009-06-27T16:09:00.004+01:00

Well...

It's been a while. I got ill, I got better, I endured countless hours of work, and now?

Well, I'm on my day off.

I say day off, I've been writing tomorrow's sermon, but nonetheless there is a holiday kind of atmosphere around here.

My sermon is on suffering, and while I've been ludicrously stressed, overworked and underpaid the last little while...I'm coming up empty on the poor-me front. Probably because I've complained so much about everything already. This is good.

So anyway, to the point...I figure I should make an announcement on here...

The Exegesis Fairy is getting married!

I know, isn't it exciting.

I think it's probably because of the fear and loathing I have for wedding planning (several months in) but everyone else always seems much more excited than I am. I was excited, but that was before choosing invitation designs.

Plus, my printer has broken. No, actually broken. Oops.

Marriage I'm all for. We're on the pre marriage course and it's a lot of fun (I do feel that Better Half is rather too sensible and measured for any crockery flinging antics...I'm not sure about me though) but weddings Totally Suck. There, I said it.

Maybe I'll enjoy it while it's actually occurring.

But on the whole I think I prefer the marriage bit.

Probably just as well, I'm informed that part lasts longer.

Please feel free to post comments on your wedding planning purgatory in the comments section, for our edification, our entertainment, and to make me feel better about the ludicrous negotiations I've been having with my relatives.

Come Holy Spirit, and set our throats on fire...

2009-05-31T14:51:00.002+01:00

Sorry, couldn't resist a bad joke.

Thank you P. Who having heard my complete inability to do more than rasp this morning said, 'Hey, I have a sermon for later, how about I give it now as well?'

You are a gentleman and a scholar. Just so you know.

My throat hurts. My glands are swollen. I may be running a temperature, and I can't speak. A sort of hissing whisper comes out if I try really hard, but you have to be less than thirty centimetres away to hear it.

Come Holy Spirit, and set our hearts on fire. But could you possibly, in Your infinite wisdom, do the opposite to our throats?

Happy birthday to me!

2009-05-30T09:06:00.002+01:00

Ugh. I am ill. Yuk.

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy (breathe) birthday to meeee...

And so on.

You know, I was right the first time.

2009-05-29T13:04:00.005+01:00

A very long time ago now, I wrote a post for my old blog saying that I was not going to read women's magazines any more. That they were toxic, useless and rubbishy.

And this resolution I kept, until a few weeks ago.

Dear reader, you may remember this post in which I confessed to having bought Cosmo and Men's Health (special offer. y'see) and was reading.

So: Men's Health = hilarious.

Really. I mean, it's much better than practically all the other men's magazines on the market (and the women's ones too). It's mostly free of naked women, and they're more concerned with looking really hot and being fit themselves than anything else.

They also advise eating plenty of protein. Which I approve of.

They do have a slight obsession with

a) bicep curls (an almost universal problem, people seem to like them even though they're...well, I'll get to that) and

b) getting six-pack abs (whatever floats your boat, I suppose. That said, they focus a lot on situps and such to get them, when really it's mostly about diet and fat distribution. If you have a significant amount of body fat round your midsection, it doesn't matter how strong your abs are, you won't be able to see them. Sheesh, they're a fitness magazine, they should know this.)

But still, they don't try and make you feel bad about yourself.

Cosmo I bought because of the offer and because they were trumpeting their LOVE YOUR BODY issue.

Which just goes to show you what the other ones are about. And yes, there were good articles about loving and accepting yourself and cellulite not being the devil and so on.

And this accounted for about...12 pages. Not counting 3 or 4 which were about prejudice against fat people and domestic violence information.

This out of 208 pages. Mind you, about 1/3 of those are adverts.

Say 70 pages of ads. 15 pages of body loving.

And then...5 pages on how to get rid of cellulite, most of which are ridiculously expensive.

Yeah. Anyway.

But what made me mad? Ridiculously, out-of-all-proportion mad?

Exercise rules you should ignore!!!111!eleven!

Now the first one (Rule 1: Stretch to warm up) I got. It should be ignored, or at least modified. Cold stretching isn't so good, so you should mix it with light jogging/walking/generally moving about. Like the woman said.

Fine.

Point 3 (Rule 3: You'll never lose weight by just walking) and the subsequent explanation of why it was wrong, also fine. I would point out that you can lose weight faster with a mix of activities, most especially strength training, but whatever.

Point 2, on the other hand, almost had me screaming.

I will quote in full:

"Rule 2: Do bicep curls using heavy weights.
"Bicep curls can give you Popeye arms if you do fewer reps with heavy weights. For toned arms, hold a light weight (like a can of beans) in each hand. Puts your hands by your thighs, palms out, then bend your arms up to shoulder level, then lower. Count to four on the way up and again on the way down. Repeat 12 times.""

Emphasis is flipping well mine.

A can of beans.

A can of beans????????

For pity's sake, this supposed fitness guru is...is...GAH!

Things wrong with the above statement:

1. If you are reading Cosmo, you are presumably a woman. If you are a woman, you are well NOT going to get Popeye arms of any shape or form by lifting heavy weights. Excepting, possibly, immediately afterwards as your muscles are full of blood.

The only way you would get 'Popeye arms' (tch) is if you are TAKING something. Anabolic steroids, supplementary androgens/testosterone. Something like that. Women have lower testosterone levels than men. Thus they do not build muscle as fast. They can get stronger (proportionately) more easily, but it doesn't translate into huge bulging muscles. Not without a lot of work and an insanely rigorous diet, and probably drugs. Not. Gonna. Happen.

Joanna Hall, You Fail Biology Forever.

2. Lifting tiny little weights will do nothing to 'tone' your arms. It's all about muscle recruitment. You've got a certain number of muscle fibres in, say, your arms, and they're lazy little blighters. They won't work if they don't have to. A bean tin weighs...half a kilo? Come on, your handbag weighs more than that. Your muscle fibres are not challenged in any way by curling a soup can 12 times. Thus, no increase in strength, or improved muscle tone. No change at all, in fact.

3. But I can really feel it in my arms! you cry. That, sweet cheeks, is lactic acid buildup. It's not producing your desired results. Honest.

Anyone who announces that 'feeling the burn' as a result of ridiculous numbers of repetitions with a tiny little weight is useful Fails Physiology Forever.

Lift heavy weights (like something you can ONLY lift say 6-8 times before you can't lift it any more). Heavy weights = more muscle (and I swear you won't look like Popeye the sailor man). More muscle means your resting metabolic rate is higher. Thus you need to eat more to stay the size you are.

Sigh.

So, Cosmo and Men's Health: both special in their own special ways, but I'll stick to the latter.

And now you, loyal and patient reader who has stayed with me to the end of this post, know something more about me: I'm a hopeless nerd. Even when it comes to exercise.

Later days!

Guilty pleasures

2009-05-21T09:47:00.004+01:00

I have a few.

Blogging, incidentally, is one of them. As is spending far too much time on the Internet. But I also have a real weakness for a) thrillers, and b) movies with geeks as the hero.

So in spite of the near-libellious (or slanderous, or both) similarities between the antagonist and Bill Gates, in spite of the ludicrous plot twists and silliness, I'll say it:

I love Antitrust. So when I saw it at Oxfam for £2.99, I was there in a flash!

I know, I know, it's very sad. But you know, Ryan Phillippe, thrillers, what's not to love? Phillippe is also, incidentally, who I credit for opening my eyes to that eternal truth:

Geeks are wonderful.

Well...to each their own, huh? I was a total geek all through my teenage years, and it's only been getting worse as I age. Ok, so the academic geekdom went down the tubes, what with the ME and all, but the tendencies remain.

Nerdish aquisition of knowledge.
Love of D&D, fantasy, Star Wars, computers, science, theology (that's a bit of a weird one, but I'm definitely a theology geek) and all of that other stuff which other people consider either weird (fantasy, D&D), unnecessary (theology) or to fall into the category 'someone should do it, but not me' (science, computery things).
Obsessive tendencies.

On the computer geek scale I'm fairly far down the hierarchy (as in, I'm who my parents call when they have a computer problem, but that's about it) but with an actual programmer in the house, I'm fairly surplus to requirements. Which is nice, as I'm not that good, just interested.

Geeks are hot. They are, seriously. Yes, as a group our social skills may be below par, but that just means you have to work a little harder. We're actually quite lovely once you get to know us. And some of us are genuine social butterflies! (I pretend to be one, which is not quite the same thing). In fact, just read and take note.

Geeks of the world unite!

You shall go to the ball! (Oh, okay...)

2009-05-17T09:18:00.003+01:00

And go I did, my dears, go I did. And only you, my darling readers, shall know that I seem to have shrunk and so had to put the straps on my purple bridesmaiding dress to stop it falling down, and that I was having a mother of an Unhelpful Hair Day, but that sock bun with plaits (I'll do a picture if anyone's really interested) would turn out lovely and elegant.

Had a lovely time at our fundraising ball. Bit of a weird experience hobnobbing with people who make more in a week than I do in a month. The ones with big houses and accountants and all. But hey, they have money and they give it to us sometimes, so I'm all for that.

Met a very nice medical student who taught me to jive, had second helpings at the buffet, and brought home a few of the chocolate brownies (well, it wouldn't do to waste them, huh?) And now I must go and get ready for church; we're taking the Sunday School and it wouldn't do to be late. Or look like I had too much wine.

Not that I did, you understand. I danced (twice, with aforementioned medical student), ate (again twice, plus dessert) and drank (er...two glasses of water and a cup of hot water).

And you know, I socialised with the best of them. I flitted like a social butterfly, I did.

Kept me up past bedtime, but well worth it. I'm quite glad I didn't bring Better Half, though, he'd have been bored senseless as I went around chatting to people and generally being lovely so they'd give us money.

Can I come next year?

Have been a bit lax of late...

2009-05-11T08:04:00.003+01:00

So, without further ado:

The Risen Lord is present in His Church with the power to heal. (Given Sunday 3rd of May)

Try as I might, I couldn't work bluebells into this sermon. So: bluebells. There we go.

The topic is this: The Risen Lord is present in His church with the power to heal.

Great. What?

Jesus says in John, “I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”
“I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me— just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep.”

Jesus is the Risen Lord. Why? Because He died and then came back to life again, He died and God raised Him from the dead. He is Risen! The Risen Lord, the one who died for us, broke death for us, is here...for us. And not just for us.

The Risen Lord is present in His church. His church. His body. The people who follow the way of Jesus, however badly or imperfectly we may do it. The Risen Lord is present in His church. In us. In each one of us.

We are living sacrifices. Paul refers to the church, to us, as the Body of Christ. He is in us, and we in Him. We are sacrifices, as Christ was.

Body of Christ. Hold on. “This is my body, given for you. This is my blood, shed for you.” We remember Christ's sacrifice, His death, every time we take communion. He said “Do this in remembrance of me”. We eat the bread, we drink the wine, we remember the body and blood broken and poured out for us.

And the church is the Body of Christ on earth, now, today. The Risen Lord is present in His church.

What if we see communion another way? As BOTH a reminder of the sacrifice Jesus made, and of the sacrifice that we are called to make? The book Jesus Wants to Save Christians puts it like this:

“[Jesus] has chosen the path of descent...And he dies, naked, bleeding, thirsty, alone.
Maybe that’s what he means when he says, “Do this in remembrance of me.” The “do this” part is our lives... allowing our bodies to be broken and our blood to be poured, discovering our Eucharist. Listening. And going.
Because when we do this in remembrance of him, the world will never be the same; we will never be the same.”

Have you ever got to a point in your life when you just can't NOT do something? You must do something about this injustice or this situation or this hurt, you cannot do otherwise. You cannot do otherwise, there is a compulsion on you to right this wrong, to heal this situation. The Risen Lord is present in His church, and He has the power to heal. And through Him we have that power too. We have the power to heal.

Heal who? Well. There's the great part. Heal everybody. The Risen Lord is present in His church with the power to heal. And just who has He healed here? Let's go to Acts and see, shall we? A severely crippled man has been healed. And the council aren't sure what it's all about. “By what name did you do this? Under whose authority?” they say. Great opening.

“Then Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, said to them: "Rulers and elders of the people! If we are being called to account today for an act of kindness shown to a cripple and are asked how he was healed, then know this, you and all the people of Israel: It is by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified but whom God raised from the dead, that this man stands before you healed.”

The Risen Lord is present in His church with the power to heal. And that's a wonderful thing. Look at what He did for this man!
And look at what He did for Peter. Peter, who denied Jesus. Peter who ran, Peter who hid, Peter who knew the answers but talked too much and cut people's ears off and said all the wrong things...look at him. Another quote from Jesus Wants to Save Christians:

“A Christian is a living Eucharist, allowing her body to be broken and her blood to be poured out for the healing of the world...”
Peter is healed. Used to heal the crippled man, but before that, Peter is healed. Healed of his doubt and his fear. Healed of his selfishness.
After this meeting, they pray:

“Stretch out your hand to heal and perform miraculous signs and wonders through the name of your holy servant Jesus.
After they prayed, the place where they were meeting was shaken. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God boldly.”

The Risen Lord is present in His church with the power to heal. And not just the believers, who are healed of their fear, (for perfect love casts out fear) but the people they came into contact with. And it happens now too. When we are healed, our healing overflows to the people around us. God's healing of our lives heals the lives of others too, not by our effort but by grace. There is no compulsion here. There is only love. The Risen Lord is present, and He has the power to heal. From doubt or fear or guilt or shame or sickness or...just about anything that we need healing from.

Who do you know who needs healing? Is it you? Is it someone you know? Is it a family, a couple, one person or a whole country, personal, emotional, physical, spiritual...The Risen Lord is present in His church with the power to heal. Let's let God's love overflow from us into the situations we are in. Let's pray and speak and calm and defuse and challenge. He has the power to heal, and He gives it freely.

Offer them that healing in Jesus' name.

Gratitude

2009-05-01T14:04:00.003+01:00

Thank you.

To all of those people, and you probably don't know who you are, who make my life better.

To every church that has let me come and preach or talk about the work I do as a youth worker, to everyone who gives to us. To all of you. You've never ONCE, not even ONCE, questioned my fitness for the work I do based on my gender (or anything else). Not once have I endured a snarky comment, a questioning glare, a pointed examination of my self and my faith.

To all of the people I have come across while working for YFC: the workers themselves, the churches who support us, our volunteers, our givers, our prayer warriors.

You rock wholeheartedly. And I appreciate your support more than I can say.

Thank you.

That's all.

Kiva: Got PayPal?

2009-04-29T18:00:00.005+01:00

So I was reading about Jesus Wants to Save Christians, the Bell/Golden book. Having listened to about half of it I find it's not bad, but I would have liked more stories.

Or maybe this is a book I would prefer in text format, to let everything sink in a bit, and to chew over it more.

Regardless, I came across www.kiva.org, a microfinance site. Got PayPal? Great. You can set up an account in a matter of minutes and loan $25 to someone wanting to buy school uniforms or charcoal or a fridge or...whatever. And best of all, you'll very probably get it back. (They have a 2.5% default rate, I believe, what with them being high risk loans and all).

I certainly will be, once I set up my PayPal account (having technical difficulties, don't ask).

Loan some money! Donate to Kiva to cover their costs! Buy fridges!! Many exclamation marks!!!

Fine, fine, I take it back...maybe.

2009-04-28T13:05:00.003+01:00

So I said way back when (on my old blog, before I left university) that I was giving up stupid women's magazines, they sapped my self-esteem and were generally a waste of my valuable time (and my valuable-to-me money).

And yet I sit here with a copy of Cosmo in front of me. How did this happen?

You might well ask. Honestly, they sucked me in with a buy two magazines get 30% off deal. (The other one is Men's Health, which looks incredibly manly and entertaining. It's all about getting muscular arms, a six pack, and four more days off work a year.)

Anyway, they also suckered me by declaring this the 'Love Your Body' issue. And so I was curious to see if they really meant it.

I'll let you know.

I'll also read Men's Health and get myself some six-pack abs. Or something. Wish me luck!

Wolverine Wolverine Wolverine... and sermons

2009-04-21T21:21:00.004+01:00

So a couple of nights ago I had this really bizarre dream. I mean, I have bizarre dreams a lot, but in this one I was Shadowcat (except with cool invisibility powers too) and...anyway, it made me think about X-men, and so me being me I did an Internet search.

There's a new series! Wolverine and the X Men, totally awesome, and has Shadowcat in it. Making it...even more awesome! Okay, so it's very WolverineWolverineWolverine have we talked to you about WOLVERINE recently?

Oh, and the bizarre animation (Wolverine's arms are 1. Thicker than his legs, and 2. Thicker than Emma Frost's waist. That's just sick and wrong.) is...well, bizarre, but it doesn't make it any less great. If you're me, and a big cartoons fan.

(Ooh, pretty moving coloured pictures...)

So, there's that.

I'm also giving a sermon tomorrow. Meep. So I'll be posting the text sometime soon. This is the plan, anyway. Say a prayer for me regardless.

Back onto X Men, incidentally, I've decided that my favourite comics line is (shockingly) from Shadowcat, who in Astonishing X Men #1 rushes in late to Emma Frost's briefing (aka the White Queen, aka Woman whose superhero outfit is white lingerie). The following exchange ensues:

Kitty: Hi. It's possible that I'm late.
Emma: Quite so. This, children, is Kitty Pryde, who apparently feels the need to make a grand entrance.
Kitty: I'm sorry. I was busy remembering to put on all my clothes.

Snerk. There's also,

Cyclops (to Kitty): It's great to see you.
Kitty: Sorry about the timing. Did I miss the sorting hat?

I can't help but love that girl. Of course, it's a Joss Whedon-written thing, so everybody gets great lines.

Want, please. *makes puppy dog eyes*

Perfect skirt

2009-04-20T12:02:00.004+01:00

My search is over.

Then again, my search never really began.

I have had, in my wardrobe, surviving every purge and spring clean (and there have been a lot of them) a black skirt. I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it, even though I had nothing to wear it with.

Then I got some stuff to wear it with.

Then I discovered that it didn't fit.

Oh, it sort of fit. But in order for it to fit at the hips I had to pull it down every five minutes, thus making it mid-calf length, the most universally unflattering of skirt lengths (in my opinion anyway).

So I finally worked up the momentum to take it to a tailor (my prowess with a sewing machine runs to taking up the hem of an old pair of jeans, and sewing straight lines) and after a false start or two, I picked it up this morning, and it's perfect.

Almost perfect. It fits beautifully at the waist, it fits at the hips, it falls to my knees. Exactly what I wanted.

The only problem is that it fits so very well that I have to put it on over my head, instead of pulling it on like a pair of trousers. This is a very minor inconvenience, but still, rather an amusing one. Just so long as it doesn't get stuck, I'm happy enough.

Have to love those wardrobe staples. I'll definitely be going back to that tailor, too. They know their stuff, they do good work, and they're nice to me.

Knotty necks

2009-04-14T16:11:00.002+01:00

One of the things I have done over Lent (well, since starting tutoring and thus having actual disposable income!!!!1111eleven! has been to drag my poor abused body off to the massage lady at my (former) gym. She does a good deal (in both senses) if it's your first visit, and not bad thereafter either!

Anyway, I went to her with my neck, and said,

"I have terrible posture. Trying to correct my terrible posture is painful. Thus it's self-perpetuating. Can you help?"

And she said, "Yes" and I have to say, she really has.

Unfortunately the bulk of my problems are in my neck. The neck is a wonderful piece of machinery, with about six different sets of muscles to make it do stuff, and the spine to hold it up. But if your posture sucks (which mine does) and you have knots in your muscles (which I do) things get a little more interesting.

There are no other bones in your neck besides your spine.

You would not be able to tell this if you had a prod at my neck, as the muscle knots have hardened in places to something with the consistency of bone. No, really. Bone. Thus, restricted range of motion, sore neck, sore back, and so on, and so forth.

I'm working on it. I go see Jenny (the nice if somewhat sadistic massage lady) every so often, I have a prod at the more egregious knots myself, and I put ice on afterwards (frozen peas are my friend). But still, it's going to take a while.

After that, however, I am going to have beautiful posture. It's already less painful to stand up straight. Yippee!

Or, in summary,

Massage ftw.

Christ is risen!

2009-04-12T09:35:00.003+01:00

And He is risen indeed. (big happy smiley face)

Off to work now, Easter service with the Holiday Club. Many blessings to you all.

And there was Doctor Who. And it was...not very scary really. But fun nonetheless.

Jesus lives! Hallelujah!

Lent update

2009-03-19T11:07:00.002Z

So it turns out that I use the Internet for a lot of stuff which I sort of...didn't notice. It was extremely difficult to limit my use when I had to do stuff like buy things, send emails to people or whatever.

The experiment is ongoing, and I certainly do have a lot more free time, which is good.

I have been making progress with writing, with my Star Wars costume (I'm making a holdout blaster, it's so cool!) and with a bunch of other stuff.

However, my room is still a mess.

Oh well.

So yes, I have almost a complete absence of Internet activity that's not related to...something useful that I do offline. Which is a good thing indeed.

That said, it means I have no time to do anything but keep up with two webcomics (5 minutes a week) and send emails.

I'll be back after Lent, I hope, but it's been a valuable experience so far.

Giving up Internet (sort of) for Lent

2009-02-25T11:10:00.000Z

Basically, I will only be on the Internet at work, at lunch or in between times or waiting for stuff to do itself.

Hoping this will lead to more blog posts, as I will write them offline. Also more time to DO stuff, like exercise or write or read or whatever.

I'll let you know how it goes!

Yay! Response! Agenda and the Great Commission

2009-02-24T15:19:00.005Z

Ooh, debate! *claps hands in childish glee*

My last post was somewhat linguistically sloppy, and for that I apologise. And I'll attempt to explain myself more fully below. That said, it's a bit disjointed, so bear with me as best you can.

Someone responded to my last post! Hooray! I will not reproduce their comments in full, but I will respond to the question parts:

"By this working definition of "agenda," doesn't the Great Commission in Matthew 28 direct us to all have a God-given agenda? What about Acts 1:8? And we could go on and on. Didn't Paul have some very clear agendas? Isn't both evangelism and discipleship agenda driven?"

On the subject of the Great Commission et al: Yes. Yes it does. Thus my definition of agenda is clearly inadequate.

I was using it in the pejorative sense, and none too accurately at that. Do you know what I mean by that? Er...I know what I mean. Wandering around ambushing people or conversations, purposefully steering conversations to faith and Jesus when people really want to talk about Thundercats... or generally trying to force things around to Jesus when people don't want to hear it. Paul went around talking to people about Jesus, yup. Hey, he may even have ambushed conversations and turned them around, I don't know. But I do know that if I tried to do that, I would be ignored. Not stoned or lynched, though possibly sworn at, but nonetheless ignored. If I do it to strangers, I have done nothing to earn their respect or their attention. If to friends, I lay myself open to the charge that I want to be friends solely to convert them. This is nonsense, obviously. I'm friends with people because I like them. If they were interested in becoming a Christian, great, but my endless babbling will do nothing to convince them.

However, there is a wonderful solution to this. Living the way Jesus told us to live is the best possible way of doing things.

If people ask questions, I love talking about my faith. Honestly, you couldn't shut me up. But if they don't want to talk about it then I will get on with loving and serving them regardless.

So, the Great Commission is our 'agenda' then. But to use a phrase that I usually utterly disdain: what does that look like in practice? Is it the pejorative kind of agenda, or the other kind? What is this solution I just mentioned?

Jesus said: 1. Go and make disciples, baptising them and teaching them. 2. You will be my witnesses, in Jerusalem and Judea and Samaria and to the ends of the earth.

So: I think that 1 and 2 are related, because by doing 2 you get to 1. By being a witness, you will end up with people who want to be disciples. But as a witness, how do we testify?

Being a witness means, in my opinion, demonstrating by action and word what God has done and is doing, in you and for the world. Feel free to suggest alternative definitions. Why are you a witness? You have seen, and you have believed, and the love of God is in you. And so it flows out of you to wherever it is needed. (And boy, is it needed.)

So this is our agenda, our purpose, our...whatever. Our...goal.

And yes, I think loving and serving, just loving and serving, is a goal *in itself*, because 1. Jesus told us to, and 2. while making disciples comes from it, not everyone is going to agree/listen/whatever. So what do we do? Love them anyway, even if we knew for certain they would never become a Christian, because a) God can do anything, and b) Serving was Jesus'...thing. His life, His death, His resurrection...servanthood. God in the neighbourhood, washing our feet.

(Making disciples is also a goal.)

You can't be a witness verbally if someone is not listening, right? So you witness nonverbally to God's love by serving. And we do it frequently and joyfully, and we suffer for it, even if it seems to be making no spiritual difference, because it's making a practical difference, and that's better than no difference at all. We love people because God loves them, so much so that He died over it.

So then if people want to listen, they can. Then after that, if they want to become a Christian/make a commitment/come jump on the trampoline/whatever, they can do that too. And then the discipling process starts, where you teach them what Jesus said and did, and they join the community and they worship and pray and serve alongside the rest of you.

But the desire for something more and better, the desire to come and walk the narrow way...we cannot and must not try and argue people into it. It comes from God, and God alone. Apologetics are wonderful, but those alone will not convince anybody.

Hmm. God uses us to speak into people's lives. 'Evangelism' is the verbal part of that, the sharing of the truth that drives us. God's power alone will make the words effective. But we must speak them if asked, because...well, I don't know. We just must, I guess. Not very scientific, huh?

The basic point I'm trying to make (badly) is this:

I love people and serve people primarily because He first loved us.

I am commanded to, yes, but we are not told to do anything we have not seen the Master doing, and even if we hadn't been explicitly told, I would anyway, because the purpose of my life is to emulate Jesus in the way I'm supposed to. That is, as I become more like Jesus I also become more like my true self.

He loves and He serves, therefore I love and serve (or try, at least).

Not for reward, or for converts, or for praise, though all those things are good and nice and may happen anyway, but because we are trying to emulate Jesus. I make disciples (ie teach people what Jesus said and did, and how we can emulate Him) because He did, and because I honestly believe it's the best way to be. I cannot force them to become disciples, all I can do is live the best I can, and pray that God will show them His way.

Being a witness of the love of God is what Jesus did, whether people appreciated it or not. We do the same, whether they appreciate it or not. Evangelism can't help but come out of that, if people are receptive. But like I said, receptive or not, love 'em anyway. Jesus would.

So no, you're right, commenter DJ. We are not agenda free. But if we make loving our enemies, praying for those who persecute us, and serving God as best we can our agenda, then people who want to be taught how to travel on the Way will come.

When service is just a way of converting people it is more calculating an agenda than I am comfortable with. When it is the overflow of a grateful heart, and a gentle invitation to be loved if you wish it, then I can't fault it.

This may be as clear as mud, but don't hesitate to ask for clarification/tell me I'm being muddle-headed/make some other comment.

Come, let us reason together: it's fun AND informative!

Velvet Elvis again

2009-02-23T12:27:00.002Z

S said to me today, as we were listening to more Velvet Elvis in the car,

"Doesn't Rob Bell make you want to jump up and leave the institutional church and start your own?"

Sometimes, I replied. Sometimes it just makes me want to take the principles we share and put them into practice IN the institutional church. One meeting, project, person, or church at a time.

I especially like the following points:

1. The church is to be a blessing, NOW. The life eternal is a present reality as well as a future one. No, really. It's in the Greek. Promise.
2. If converting people is your sole motivation for doing stuff, you have an agenda. People can sense an agenda from half a mile distant.
3. If you are being a blessing, if you are showing God's love to the world, no strings attached, then maybe, just maybe, people will want to know why.

Meh. I am not yet sure what exactly Fresh Expressions and the Pioneer movement is doing. Maybe it's this. Maybe it's not. But I think we could do worse than going and serving the world, because God loves them and one of our jobs as the elect is to show people that.

The Joy of Shops. Charity shops, that is.

2009-02-20T17:07:00.004Z

My mum, being a lovely and generous person, has sent me some money. It may or may not be a payoff for looking after Brother Dearest for the last couple of days. (He's very well, thanks for asking.)

Anyway, if she read this blog she would be pleased to know that I have spent all of it on clothes.

I know, I know, it's very unlike me, but the wardrobe situation was getting a little desperate, to be honest.

Right. So, without further ado, I would like to present:

The Exegesis Fairy's shopping bonanza!

Acorns Children's Hospice Shop

1 pair brown boots (perfect for everyday wear AND my green Mara Jade costume, should I ever get round to making a new one): £5.50

1 pendant (blue/green and black circle, I took it off the dummy in the shop window) £2.50

Myton Hospices Shop

1 white blouse (for wearing over vests in summer) £3.50

1 pink and black top (the kind with a v-neck and a tie around the waist) £2.00

1 short blue dress with gold design and belt (totally cute and goes nicely over jeans) £5.00

Outlet

1 blue jumper £7.00

Ebay (if I win)

1 pair over the knee flat black boots (perfect for my black Mara Jade costume, as well as being really funky) £18.98

Total: £44.48

And with enough change to buy some nail polish or something.

AND it means I don't have to go shopping for...well, I can feasibly put it off until at least July! Huzzah!

Thanks, Mum!

Rob Bell and Velvet Elvis

2009-02-17T15:32:00.007Z

First of all, I would like to take this opportunity to say:

Heh. Nooma is a funny word.

Really, it is. Go on, say it a time or two out loud. Nooma. Nooma nooma nooma. Don't you just feel better? I don't know what it means, or stands for, but you know, I like the videos. And I like that they're not meant to be taken uncritically. That appeals.

Second, I should state my bias up front here. I love Rob Bell's work. I really do. I love what he is trying to do. And also, I am reluctant to condemn unequivocally anything that may have something of God in it. Same with the Lakeland...thing. I don't know what it was, but God may have been doing something there, so whatever happened might not have been all bad.

OK, that said, I have been writing a research paper on informal education and what we can learn from it about how to disciple young people. It's an interesting topic, to me at least, and it's a fun way to spend work time when schools are out. And I was looking for a quote on discipleship, and found something in Velvet Elvis which was particularly pertinent: "exploring what it means to live in harmony with God and each other". Great quote, though not exactly about discipleship, but made the point I was trying to make. Discipleship is a journey. The Christian life is a journey, and process by which we are refined. And another thing I love about this kind of Christianity is the invitation:

Jesus is for everyone, so come jump on the trampoline with us.

As regards my original metaphor, the journey is something that captures us, entices us. No Quest takes place in one town alone; our heroes must travel to other places, strange places, and though they may find that they are the same places in the end, they must travel to do so. They can't assume that everywhere is like their home town.

Rob Bell has taken a lot of flak. And I mean, a LOT. For being...everything, actually. For seeking to engage in the conversation that we all engage in (because everybody does exegesis, even if they pretend that they don't or think they don't) he has come under fire. For having a different way of looking at things, or just for wanting to look at things a different way, he has come under fire. Quotes taken out of context, "blogs and rumours of blogs", the works.

And why? For saying some stuff that people don't think is right. Do we expect our leaders, our sources of inspiration, our guides, to be infallible? I mean, Jesus: yes. Everybody else: I'll take a pass on that, thanks Bob.

I do think he's a guy who wants to live the Book that he loves. And that's good enough for me. Because you know? I want to live that kind of life too. I made a promise to follow Jesus, because I trust Him. I don't have it all figured out. I'm sure some of my opinions make people groan and worry for my immortal soul or whatever.

But I'd like to think that Christianity is like a trampoline, and that doctrines are springs by which we can jump higher, not bricks which keep us in and others out.

I'm on the trampoline, all of me. It's okay if other people aren't jumping so high, or if they don't like some of my springs or if I avoid some of theirs. Here we are, jumping on the trampoline, and calling for anyone else who would like a go to do the same.

Whee!

Whee! First sermon! (And things you don't want to hear)

2009-02-16T08:47:00.003Z

Yesterday I combined ministry preparation with work, and delivered a sermon to two churches in my work area. Fun fun fun!

(adopts Oscar-winning voice)

I'd like to thank the Academy, and I'd like to thank my mother for buying me the presentable shoes (ow, feet) and the world's best pair of black trousers, and God for being amazing, and...

Yeah, yeah. Without further ado, I present a rough facsimile of my sermon. I don't know if anyone recorded the real things, and I think that they were better, but I summoned my best Rob Bell manner (listening to Velvet Elvis, the man knows how to deliver a talk) and went for it.

Last thing: things you don't want to hear when sharing the peace:

"I'm sure you did a very good job but I couldn't hear you at all...that's why I sit at the front, you see."
"I forgot my hearing aid so I couldn't really hear you, but the light of the Lord was shining out of you!" (My immediate thought: are you sure that wasn't the Trinity candelabra behind me?)

Isaiah 49:13-22

13 Shout for joy, O heavens;
rejoice, O earth;
burst into song, O mountains!
For the LORD comforts his people
and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.
14 But Zion said, "The LORD has forsaken me,
the Lord has forgotten me."
15 "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
I will not forget you!
16 See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
your walls are ever before me.
17 Your sons hasten back,
and those who laid you waste depart from you.
18 Lift up your eyes and look around;
all your sons gather and come to you.
As surely as I live," declares the LORD,
"you will wear them all as ornaments;
you will put them on, like a bride.
19 "Though you were ruined and made desolate
and your land laid waste,
now you will be too small for your people,
and those who devoured you will be far away.
20 The children born during your bereavement
will yet say in your hearing,
'This place is too small for us;
give us more space to live in.'
21 Then you will say in your heart,
'Who bore me these?
I was bereaved and barren;
I was exiled and rejected.
Who brought these up?
I was left all alone,
but these—where have they come from?' "
22 This is what the Sovereign LORD says:
"See, I will beckon to the Gentiles,
I will lift up my banner to the peoples;
they will bring your sons in their arms
and carry your daughters on their shoulders.

Mark 14:32-36

32They went to a place called Gethsemane, and Jesus said to his disciples, "Sit here while I pray." 33He took Peter, James and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled. 34"My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death," he said to them. "Stay here and keep watch."
35Going a little farther, he fell to the ground and prayed that if possible the hour might pass from him. 36"Abba,^[a] Father," he said, "everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will."

There are two things I think of when it comes to parents, and God in particular. The first is God’s care; the second is God’s discipline. And (hey, bonus third) how they’re often the same thing.

I had a really bad couple of days last week. You know the ones, where the earth feels like it’s spinning too fast, and you just want to stop and get off, and you can’t, and it’s all bad and wrong and…argh.

And I said to God, ‘Help!’ and drifted off to sleep. (A good start in itself.) I woke up the next morning, and thought, gosh, it’s bright outside. Did I sleep in? So I opened the curtains…and there was snow. Beautiful, inches-deep snow that meant that I could go out and play like all the other kids instead of going to school! Look Ma, I made a snow angel and a person and a smiley face! Whee! How joyful the heart of God! How loving! How compassionate!

“Shout for joy, all the earth, because Adonai, the Lord, has compassion on His people.”

Compassion on the afflicted ones. How we need our God. Doing schools work is like this sometimes. You see kids who are heading down paths that are destructive and dark. They need God’s care, and His discipline. His boundaries can protect them, His love can encircle them. The difference between them and the ones who know that God loves them is stark. That is why YFC exists, really. To provide what glimpses we can of the Divine Parent, of the Father-heart of God. How God loves us, longs for us, desires our best. Even if we might not be able to have it just yet.

“But Zion said, "The LORD has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me.” How often we feel like this! When the road is long and hard, when the Way that we are on seems endless and painful, ‘God has forgotten me.’

But God’s response: Never! “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!”

I will not forget you. How we long to hear that. I will not forget you. How we long to be reminded even if we knew already. How we long for someone to say that even if it doesn’t mean the pain is going to go.

Even if your friends have deserted you, your family hates you, your teachers or your colleagues or your neighbours…I will not forget you. “I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.” The love of God is deep and wide and all-encompassing. I will not forget you. Though the earth has been laid waste around you, though your children have been attacked or persecuted, though it seems like there is no way through…

The parent-heart of God, God the Father, God the Mother, the parent heart of God says this to us: I will not forget you.

This is the Good News. Good News indeed. That while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. That is the love of God. That is the Father-heart of God. I did not forget you. I made a way.

The example of Jesus is, as always, paramount: everything is possible for you, Father. Take this cup from me. Not my will, though, but your will.

How does the message of the Father heart of God go out to the nations? Go out to our nation? Through the voices of those who know God, who know that He did not forget us. Through sacrifice, which is our discipline.

The sacrifice of Jesus was the only thing that made that possible. The sacrifice made the way. Our sacrifice must do so also. Of our time, or our money or our prayer time. God requires sacrifice. “Present your bodies” said the apostle Paul, “as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God”. This is discipline. The writer of Hebrews urges us to accept the discipline of God because we are sons and heirs, “and what Father does not discipline His sons?”

There is a balance to be struck here: Jesus said that He is gentle, and humble in heart. And that His yoke is easy and His burden is light. But also that we should count the cost of following Him, that it would demand everything of us.

Youth for Christ works in a lot of different settings. In Forest of Arden it’s mainly in schools and youth groups and clubs, but other places work with juvenile delinquents, do detatched work on the streets, work in universities (our remit is secondary school to 25, by the way), camps, and all kinds of stuff. It’s a lot of work, a lot of time, a lot of discipline and organisation. And prayer underpins it. Or, as the postcard in my friend’s living room says: We don’t believe in miracles here: we rely upon them. The Good News demands everything of us. For those working with Youth for Christ, it demands that they make themselves available to young people. Our cost is the same as anyone else’s. Those of you who support us go to work and bring the kingdom with you, then you help us bring the kingdom elsewhere by the money you give us. Ministry is not confined to what we do. Ministry can be everything we do.

And through it all, we rely on God’s parenting us. Leading us along the path between too much and not enough, between mercy and justice, freedom and restriction, work and rest.

When Jesus is in the Garden, we see the will of God at work. And oh, how much it must hurt:

“My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,” he said to them. The Lord has forgotten me. The Lord has forsaken me. And yet, in the midst of what must be done to save us all, there is hope for us yet. That the crucifixion is not the end. But we must take up our crosses and follow, and the cross we bear always precedes the crown we wear. Good Friday must come before Easter Sunday.

We struggle along, in our lives. We struggle in our work with the young people in our area. We struggle with financial need. We struggle in prayer when things go wrong, and struggle to remember to pray when things go right.

But the message remains: I did not forget you. God did not forget Jesus, even when He was in the garden, about to carry our sin. God did not forget us, even when we turned away. God has not forgotten the young people here, or any of the people here.

God has not forgotten us. And so we continue through our own Good Fridays, knowing that Sunday is just around the corner.

God is our Father, and He has not forgotten us.

SNOW DAY!!!!one!111eleven!

2009-02-05T08:27:00.007Z

I know, I know. Childish and whatever. But I'm happy. Yay! Snow! Thanks, God!

Of course, the schools are closed. Which means no worky for me. Which is kinda bad, sure, because...it's harder to do actual youth work without any...y'know, youths.

That said, I'm beyond exhausted, totally wiped out from...I don't even know what, though the car thing didn't really help, and frankly I could use some time just enjoying the beauty of creation. Of course, I still have some work to do, but hey, what can you do. I'll take working from home, Roger, for ten.

I bought the local birdies some balls of fat (it's a little unusual having 'fat balls' in the middle of one's otherwise humdrum receipt, but I digress) though I don't think any of them have picked up that it's there yet.

Still, they're welcome to it, and I think in this weather they're going to need all the help they can get.

So it's a day for some work, much praising of God for Her general gloriousness, and generally going, 'Snow! SNOOOOOW! Lookit!'

Who says I'm childish?

Oh yeah, everyone.

At least I'm having fun, huh?

This is the Exegesis Fairy, signing off to go put on three more layers and play in the snow.

Show me the money. Nope, not enough...

2009-02-04T15:43:00.003Z

Gawney Days, as my Granny would have put it!

My car was having its annual service/MOT. Fine.

But no.

1. The brakes are shot.
2. I mean completely shot.
3. Front and back for different reasons. (Corrosion and hydraulic fluid leak, respectively)
4. In a year since they were last checked.
5. That's scary.
6. Mostly it's expensive.
7. I need a new tyre as well.
8. And the service.
9. And the MOT itself.

In conclusion:

10. This sucks like a Dyson vacuum cleaner.

Gah. Transport. And it's normally such a nice car, too. Sigh.

Another test

2009-02-02T16:04:00.004Z

Yay. Excitement.

This is our Wordle (I love wordle) for our homepage. And this is the fifth attempt. I hate common words.



Haha!

Reflections on 'Being a Priest Today' Part 1

2009-02-02T11:12:00.004Z

One of the books I am reading as part of the vocations process is Being a Priest Today (they all have such similar names is the trouble) by the new Bishop of Coventry Christopher Cocksworth and Rosalind Brown.

And I have to say, I'm enjoying it so far. So, a few reflections on what I've read so far:

Chapter 1 is Being Called, and sets the scene for how we can view the priest. That there is no one way is for sure, but priests share common conditions, characteristics and consequences. There's debate as to the nature of the priesthood, but they make the astute observation that the debate is often really about power.

Or, as Rob Bell would put it, "This is really about that."

Jesus says in John, "I am the Vine, and you are the branches." It's...you know, organic in the scientific sense rather than the pesticide one.

The whole church is the priestly community, and we are called to do what Jesus did and say what Jesus said in the same ways that He did and said them.

I like this idea. Not that it's easy, and not that it looks the same for everyone, but I like the principle. It's simple even if it isn't easy. And everyone can understand it. We proclaim the coming of God's Rule over everything.

There follows an explanation of how deacon-priest-bishop came about, when initially priest and bishop (presbyter and episkopos) were pretty much the same thing. Also how, starting in the 4th century, priests were first ordained as deacons to underline that service was at the heart of the presbyter's calling.

That there is an emphasis on the fact that the kleros (clergy) are merely a particular subset of laos (the people of God) is important, I think. As is the emphasis on the work of the Holy Spirit and the calling to live a holy life (something they go into in more detail in Chapter 2).

I cannot adequately describe the fear and trepidation I feel when thinking about being a priest, nor the awesome sense of responsibility, nor the sense that God's grace is sufficient, no matter how weak I may be, or how tired or sore or heartsick. God's grace must be sufficient, otherwise nobody could be a priest, or a deacon, or a bishop, or live any life in a Christian way. How could we?

Something on Bishop Alan's blog last week really struck a chord with me, and something else on the news. He said that he understood how people could doubt the existence of God, but not how they could disbelieve in the existence of evil. And a news report on the rise of Christianity in Mongolia said something which relates to this too.

Buddhism was imported in the 16th century to Mongolia, became the national religion, meant huge numbers of the male population became Buddhist monks...and then was purged in the 1920s by the communists. Christianity has taken off like a rocket in the last two decades, particularly because of their provision of aid. A quote from the article,

"...Puje Chinggis claims the future is Christian. Buddhism told people they must suffer well and earn a better future life.
He said Mongolians, crushed by economic and social chaos, preferred the Christian acceptance of their inherent badness.
Puje insists that hope is the ingredient in greatest demand in Mongolia. Christianity, practical and adaptable as it has proved to be, may be one way of providing it."

Along the Way

2009-02-01T15:29:00.004Z

There are many questions that are asked of you as you seek to become a priest; or, indeed, when you are looking for your life's direction.

Who are you?

What are you doing here?

Why have you come this way?

And truthfully? I don't know. Sometimes, I don't know who I am or what I'm doing here.

But I know why I have come this way.

And I know His name, too.

I am the Way, Jesus says to us. And so I walk, and jog, and run along the path I see before me. And sometimes I fall over, or stick my foot in a rabbit hole, or get distracted by shiny things. And sometimes the path is not where I thought it was, and it leads me in a different direction...

But always towards the Cross.

A key component of goal setting, I'm told, is small goals. When you're hiking a hill you don't just amble to the top, no trouble. When you're heading along a compass bearing you don't just walk. You pick a point, fix your eyes on it, and walk to it. Then you take another compass reading, pick another point, and off you go again. (I think that's how you do it, that's what I was always taught anyway). I have found this myself. I made a list of all the stuff I want to do, and it's a crazy long list. But each goal can be subdivided until I get 'what I have to do now, today or this week or this month'. And that...works surprisingly well, really.

But I digress.

Sometimes the Way is long and hard, and sometimes it's impossibly difficult, and sometimes there's no clear path ahead, and sometimes it seems kinda dull, really. The latter usually means you're filling time between crises, in my experience, and that now is a really good time to:

a) clean your house/room/car/kitchen,
b) talk to your nearest and dearest about completely banal things and tell them you love them, no strings attached or pressure,
c) talk to God about anything you like, but talk to Her often. She'll be there for the crises, but it's not nice to be That Friend or in God's case, That Child. You know, the one who you don't hear from until their world is crashing down around them.

Now is a filling-time period in my life, a period of preparation. A fairly short one, but I will relish going to the gym, making all my lunches for the week, having a tidy bedroom and a clean car interior (it's far too cold to wash the outside), and generally being here present without having to always be on the lookout for the next thing I have to do to Make Everything Work.

For those in the midst of a crisis, look up. The road is long and tough, but we're with you. Jesus is with you. And that's got to be a start, huh?

Progress! Maybe!

2009-01-29T17:14:00.002Z

You may well have forgotten my struggles with the vocations process in the good ol' C of E, but rest assured, they have been continuing. The placement I was supposed to start a month ago fell through because nobody has seen or heard from the poor, overworked vicar I was meant to be following around in a couple of weeks.

Regardless, or perhaps because of this, I went right ahead and started asking around to find myself a placement, or at least someone who didn't seem really scared of me. And lo and behold, there was an apparition, and it was good. And it was a vicar of a church that we work with already, and it was good.

So I shall be starting a placement in the next couple of months (there's someone there at the moment already). This is excellent. I am overjoyed that any progress is being made at all, I'll be brutally honest.

Still, everyone seems to feel guilty about messing me around for six months, and so I may be progressing to the next stage sooner than previously thought.

The shock may kill me. But, dear reader, I shall endeavour to survive and update you with the latest insanities of my dear church family. They're nuts, but I love them anyway.

In other news, the job is going really well; we're doing about seven different kinds of work, all of which is really useful experience as well as fun, interesting and paying my bills. Life, I think, is good.

Test again

2009-01-27T11:50:00.003Z

Ooh.

Hope this works:

Look Ma, a barbell!

2009-01-18T20:12:00.002Z

Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen, I just purchased a barbell and 25kg of weights on ebay for...

How much, you ask?

£1.04.

Let me say that again: One Great British Pound and Four Pence.

...

Well, I'm happy about it anyway. I have to go pick it up this week from Rugby.

Thus begins my quest to weight train without the benefit of the gym. Because frankly, I can think of better things to do with my money when my subscription runs out. Not that I haven't enjoyed it, because I have. Not that some of the machines aren't fun, they are. And not that I won't miss the Big Blue Squishy Gymnastics Mat because I will, terribly. But meh, I don't want to pay them when I can do just as well in the relative comfort and privacy of my own home.

Plus, I can work out in my pyjamas if I want to and nobody will complain. Yay!

I love ebay. It rocks.

Credit crunching munch munch munch

2009-01-07T08:04:00.001Z

Is it just me or are you sick of the words 'credit crunch'? Do you long for someone to express our economic difficulties and the problems people are facing in a way that doesn't sound like a banker's breakfast cereal? "Try Credit Crunch today: now contains real gold nuggets!"

Anyway, M&S is closing stores and cutting jobs. This is sad. Well, people losing their jobs is always sad, but I have always liked M&S. They were pretty much the only big store that stayed in Northern Ireland during the period we euphemistically refer to as The Troubles. (And if you think they're actually over just because we've stopped blowing each other up, then you are gravely mistaken, but that's a whole other rant.) Even though they received IRA bomb threats every other week because they were an English company. (Did you know M&S was originally a market stall run by a Polish guy? And the motto was 'Don't ask the price: it's a penny'? (This may have had something to do with the poor guy not really being able to understand the accent, but hey, it seemed to work as a Victorian marketing gimmick.)

Of course, now Sainsbury's and Tesco have ventured over, they find that yeah, occasionally, they have to clear the store too. But not every other week.

Marks and Spencer, of course, was always going to be hit by the recession. By the way, is anyone else thinking:

Larry: "If the economy is heading into a recession--"
Josh: "No, no, no. We don't ever use that word around here."
Ed: "What word? Recession? ...What should we call it then?"
Josh: "I don't care. Call it a boat show or a beer garden or a bagel."
Larry: "So if it is a... bagel, the Fed thinks it's gonna be a mild bagel."

Anyway, my point is that they're high end and specialty, and their clothes this season pretty much sucked, and they don't really grasp the essential point of 'sales' i.e. you discount most of your stock, not four ugly brown skirts.

It will be interesting to see how Waitrose do. Not that I've ever actually seen one, you understand, or been into one, but they operate in an even higher premium market, what with all their organic...ness. That said, they might have a plan. We shall see.

On a completely unrelated note, eating like a...healthily eating person seems to be going well, 7 days in. No crazy chocolate cravings, no headaches, no feeling ready to kill someone for some food. It's all good. That said, my stretching routine is kicking me in the posterior. Seriously, everything aches slightly. But balance is important, and so its corrective exercises ahoy on my lower back, neck and right hip and shoulder (just the right ones, the left ones are fine).

Foods and Moods (and Expensive Supplements)

2008-12-31T15:07:00.005Z

Happy New Year, everyone!

It is, you would think, one of those things spouted by diet doctors that what you eat really does impact your day. One of those things that everyone says 'mmm' to but nobody really believes.

Sadly, it has come to my attention that if I feel tired or sick, asking 'when did I last eat?' will probably reveal why. Every case of CFS is different, but apparently mine is very responsive to healthy eating. You'd think I'd be happy about this. I mean, figure out what works (fish, vegetables, oats, wholewheat pasta and potatoes) and what doesn't (chocolate, sweets, white flour - which is a bummer because it seems to be in everything) and adjust accordingly.

But dang it, I don't want to give up chocolate forever!

I don't have to...exactly. However, a single week at home eating Terry's Chocolate Oranges has left me tired, ill and uneven of complexion. My face hurts, seriously, and the cold weather is not helping. I sound like Cassandra ("Moisturise me! Moisturise me!") It's not even as if I wasn't eating healthy food as well, just not as often as usual. Still, I'm recovering.

So, it seems, more than a single piece of chocolate a day causes me to crash like Bradford and Bingley.

I like my chocolate. And my sweets. However, I like feeling like a healthy, whole human being more. Usually. So it's goodbye chocolate orange, hello chocolate porridge (being porridge with cocoa powder in it). I'll probably live longer.

And also eat more, because I'm up to four meals a day. Mmm. Food. This, I suspect, has something to do with exercise and a distinct lack of sugary food. (When you start missing your nasty-tasting flax oil you know you've really signed up to the healthy eating bandwagon.)

Alas, poor Terry! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite generosity, of most excellent chocolate.

[/using Shakespeare for evil]

There are a bunch of books about how fatigue sufferers should not eat bread, vinegar, yeast, yoghurt, mushrooms(?), cheese, dried fruit (no great loss there) and the like. Something to do with sugar and yeast imbalances in the body. The ME society says this is hokum, and that a healthy diet low in refined carbohydrates (ahem, sugar and white flour and white rice, I sense a pattern here) and high in...wait for it...vegetables and fish and lean meat and what-have-you does the same job more simply. And probably without the expensive supplements.

Expensive supplements are everywhere. Seriously. You can't go anywhere that talks about healthy eating without them at least recommending a multivitamin (preferably theirs). I have no problem with multivitamins, though I don't take them every day. Given the falling levels of vitamins present in foods (this includes fruit and vegetables, and I'm not quite at the organic budget level yet) it makes sense. But all of the other stuff seems a bit like overkill (and I bet somebody, somewhere, is making a killing selling them).

So, it's going to be boring food choices for me from now on. I don't mind...too much. I like salmon and broccoli and pasta and stuff. But if I'm turning down your chocolate pudding, be nice: it's not a personal insult. In fact, it's a compliment: I want to stay awake and enjoy your company rather than eat your pudding!

Wish me luck.

Beyonce and the Folk Song Army

2008-12-31T10:04:00.005Z

My last entry of 2008, and it's going to be my normal random offering of subjects only loosely connected. Here goes...

Normally, the offerings in my Hotmail startup page are a bit rubbish really. Stuff like "What's Cheryl doing now?" or "Our favourite X Factor moments!" However, I take it all back with the article entitled Worst Songs of 2008. Because it's snarky and acerbic enough to make me laugh and be glad I know so little about popular music. What? I have no TV, and I listen to Radio 4 (if I can get it) or Classic FM, or that one that plays songs from the 70s. Anyway:

"It wasn't that there was anything wrong with the tune of Beyonce's If I Were A Boy. The tune was nice. Very nice. Well done that woman who wrote it who wasn't Beyonce.

But the words made us want to buy a bra, wear it until it became fashionable for men to wear bras and then burn that bra in protest and disgust at the ludicrously clichéd portrayal of men within its fake-empowerment verses."

You have no idea how many times I've heard half of this song in the gym, and wondered who on earth was singing. Now I know. Oh, Beyonce. You really are the undisputed queen of 'songs which are meant to sound empowering/emotional/whatever, but just miss the mark.' See, for example, Irreplaceable, (Some Bloke cheats on her, she throws him out of the house, contains the lines 'I could have another you in a minute/Matter of fact, he'll be here in a minute'. Sure, supposed to sound empowering and yadda yadda, but sounds more like, 'Hey, I found some other cheating two-faced jerk to take your place! Yay me! *giggle*')

"Apparently, if Ms Knowles had danglier genitals, she would: "Roll out of bed in the morning / And throw on what I wanted / And go drink beer with the guys." That's not a boy, that's an unemployed alcoholic!"

That line made me snigger quite uncontrollably.

"She also imagines: "I would turn off my phone / Tell everyone its broken / So they think that I was sleeping alone."Again, this isn't the natural behaviour of the Y chromosome. It's the behaviour of a dishonest, unfaithful git which, last time we checked, wasn't exclusive to either gender. What's so awful about If I Were A Boy is that no such man exists and no such relationship exists, except perhaps in beer commercials. The entire song is a lie and an insult to all complex, individual and free-thinking human beings."

Quite. And I would totally buy the song below, even though it reminds me of Tom Lehrer and the Folk Song Army: "It sounds more ethnic if it ain't good English...and it don'tevenmatterifyoucramafewextrasyllables into a line". Though not necessarily in that order.

"Of course, the real lyrics should go something along the lines of: "If I were a boy / I'd pee standing up / Then I'd take my car to the garage / And be amazed that they didn't patronise me about the trouble I've been having with the clutch.""

Happy New Year, everyone!

Oh noes!

2008-12-25T21:10:00.003Z

Noooooo! He DIED!

Ok, so this wasn't exactly a shock or anything, but it was sad. And yet still funny, even when it's tragic. Poor Qui-Gon. Still, he'll be back. Maybe as Padme? Snigger.

Ohmygoshthough, wasn't Doctor Who fabulous? Maybe I'm just chronically deprived, but I liked it. I really liked Evil!Woman's red dress. Excessively cool. And the Doctor, who wasn't the Doctor, and Rosita (a bit of a shrieker, too shrill for me but whatever, she's sort of an amalgam of companions) and the Cybermen. The neat little reminder references and the sweet 'thank you' at the end. Awww.

And Wallace and Gromit, though I haven't seen it really, I was in the car.

I hope you all had a marvellous Christmas, with peace on earth, goodwill to men, and good news of great joy for all the people.

Assemblies and all that

2008-12-16T19:04:00.003Z

Notes to self:

1. Do not forget gloves when going to the gym. I do that once and suddenly my hands are as bad as ever. Tch!

2. Advent calendars rule.

3. Take vitamins to attempt to stave off cold.

4. Your job rocks. Remember this fact.

I am taking an assembly tomorrow, about Christmas and hope. S did today's assembly, but I can't just give the same talk verbatim (he made it up on the spot; I can neither remember all of it nor wing it). So I have a plan and an outline and some desperate praying to do. Smile! Jesus loves you!

But you know, I'm brave. Occasionally.

My mentor told me yesterday that in the Western world Christians tend to pray for protection, whereas in the rest of the world, Christians pray for courage.

So...I pray for courage and for protection too. But mostly for courage, because He never promised there wouldn't be hard times, but He did promise He'd be with us in them.

Just as well, really.

Work, gloves, more work...

2008-11-29T18:23:00.003Z

Work!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, The Exegesis Fairy has entered the workplace once again.

And I forgot how tiring it is.

Also, it was clearing the churchyard day, so I spent my morning hauling tree branches like a wannabe Iron Man competitor. It was fun until my fingers were burning with cold. Then it wasn't so fun any more.

That said, go us and our mad ground-clearing skills. Even though there were forty people on the list and there were maybe 15 of us. I'm told this is normal. Anyways, I'm shattered but it's been really good getting to meet the teens I'll be working with.

Oh! And I got gloves for training! For £4.99! Oh yes! No more calluses for me, ha ha ha! I went to the sports shop and, after the stunning revelation that they don't do weightlifting gloves for women (no comment) I asked if there were any cycling gloves. Yes. Three pairs. And the small ones more or less fit, and they were on offer, and it's the best I'm going to get because apparently women don't lift weights or cycle. At least according to this shop. I suppose it's because they're fairly generic as sports suppliers go, so they don't have a lot of specialist stuff. Still, I growl.

Still, I am now extra motivated to get to the gym and try them out and see if I can hang from the bars without ripping the skin off my palms (never pleasant).

I will prevail, oh yes.

In the meantime, there is work, and income, and chocolate because it's nearly Advent time. So all is pretty good. Except the weather. It's kinda yucky, as ever. Can't have everything, after all. There'd be nothing to complain about.

Image manipulation and 1 Samuel 16:7

2008-11-19T10:29:00.013Z

So I was reading BTFM today, as I do, and in particular a piece on formal wear. And it's a good post, as they always are, but it got me to thinking.
Beauty Tips For Ministers has a really simple premise behind it:
"If you don't project an image consciously, then you will project one unconsciously."
An important thing to remember. Or, to put it another way:
"People look at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart." (a slight paraphrase of 1 Samuel 16:7)
The context of this verse is that Samuel is out seeking King Saul's replacement (Saul isn't dead yet, but he's been messing up big time). He goes to Jesse's sons, one of whom he knows God has appointed to be king. He immediately thinks that it should be Eliab, who is tall and handsome and all the rest. But God says, 'Nope.' So eventually Samuel figures out that it's David, the youngest (who is also very handsome with nice eyes, apparently) who God wants.

The passage is used a lot to say that God doesn't care what you look like. And, well, there are definitely things which are more important to Him. But then, the Old Covenant figured it was important enough to specify beard trimming and accessories (Lev 19:7, Deut 22:12) and Jesus had a few things to say about physical appearance. Like "dress nicely when fasting and don't go around all piously mopey" for example. That being about hypocrisy more than anything else, but still. Paul had a few things to say about appearance too: long hair, shaved heads, showing off your bling, and so on.

So...how on earth does this apply? We should not conform to this world, but be transformed, surely? (Romans 12:2) But we should also listen to our cultural mores? (e.g. shaved head = prostitute, so if all the ladies cover their heads nobody will judge, or long hair on men = disgracefully effeminate or whatever). That's all very well and good, I hear you say, but how does this help today? And how on earth does it relate to your title?

Well, it's like this. If your mouth is saying love, world peace and nice little fluffy kittens, and your appearance is saying 'I drop-kick kittens' then people who know you will hear your words, but people who don't (unless you're on the radio) will think 'that person drop-kicks kittens and probably doesn't wash or change their clothes either'. Then again, if your appearance says love, world peace and fluffy little kittens, you can drop-kick kittens in secret and people will never know.

But God will. That being the other side of this coin. And also, it may show in your face. Mmm-hmm.

Yes, I realise I'm being facetious with examples here (kittens are nice. I like kittens), but bear with me. Both of these things are important. And seeing as God is our creator and judge, God's opinion is most definitely MORE important. God looks at our hearts. Which we need to be right with Her. People look at our outward appearance. Which, if we want to make an impact, we need to be expressions of our hearts. If our hearts are crying out for God, if our hearts are seeking holiness, if our hearts are completely in love with Jesus, then yes, that will shine through.

But if your body doesn't match your message, it's a bit like reading passages from the King James Version to the person on the street. Sure, the message will shine through, but you're really making people work for it.

I should explain that.

In my hometown's centre, on a Saturday, you can find a handful of people giving sermons into tinny microphones and handing out leaflets. And every single one of the Bible quotes is the KJV, complete with thees, thous and thines.

I was asked one day if I was a Christian. I said, yes, I was. And that I had a question. Go for it, they replied.
"Why," quoth I, "are all of your quotes from the KJV? Surely a more modern (and accurate, but I didn't say that) translation would better facilitate understanding of your message." (I may have been less flowery than that, but that's as near as I can remember.)
"Well," the man replied (there wasn't a woman in the whole group, interestingly), "we believe that the Holy Spirit can work in any circumstances."
"Of course He can," I said, "but I do think you're making His job unncessarily hard."
And with that, I smiled and went on with my shopping.

My point here is very similar. Sure, people can be saved or spiritually fed from listening to archaic sermons from the KJV, or reading badly spelled and punctuated leaflets. God, as we well know, can do anything. But you know what? I think we might make it easier for people to listen if we started talking in a way they understand. Including with our bodies (that's why it's called body language, after all). And with our spelling, but that's probably just me.

Image can lie. It can say, 'this person drop-kicks kittens' when they in fact run an animal rescue shelter, or it can say, 'this person is wonderful' when they're a kitten-kicker. And the fact remains that image is just what gets you through the door. After that it's the grace of God and the power of the Holy Spirit. But always remember this:

"To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the law (though not being myself under the law) that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (not being outside the law of God but under the law of Christ) that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak, that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, that I may share with them in its blessings." (1 Corinthians 9:16-23)

Yup, Paul is definitely a model for what I'm talking about here. But you know, I couldn't finish without the ultimate example of this (no prizes for guessing who):

"For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses. Instead, we have one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet he never sinned." (Hebrews 4:15)

and

"Therefore he had to become like his brothers and sisters in every respect, so that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make the sacrifice of atonement for the sins of the people. Because he himself was tested by what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested." (Hebrews 2:17-18)

Image is what gets you in the door. And if Jesus clothed Himself in frail human flesh and blood to save the world, the least you can do is brush your hair.

It'll make you feel better too. Promise.

The Exegesis Fairy has landed.

2008-11-15T12:23:00.003Z

So I have arrived. Go me. All my worldly goods fit neatly into my car. Except my bike, which was at a bit of an awkward angle, and had to have the front wheel taken off. The awkward angle meant that I cracked my head on the front forks three times before I made it to my new house.

My housemates think I'm really odd, what with me never actually having seen the house before moving in. But they're all very lovely, so it's best that they think I'm weird right from the outset. Saves time later.

My bike is...well, I'm going to need to replace the back brake system entirely. Probably long overdue, though by the time that's done I may as well have bought a new bike (will probably cost the same, to be honest). Never mind. All is well, and I'm going to go eat soon. Eating is good.

I'm back! Woohoo! Now I just have to sort out that whole job thing, and we're all good.

God will provide. Of this fact I am certain.

Four more days!

2008-11-10T11:17:00.003Z

Well, gentle readers, it's almost upon us. I am moving back to England imminently. Yay! This is most excellent.

Anyway, I'm trying to pack at the moment. Not really working, to be perfectly honest. I have no boxes to speak of, or to keep quiet about for that matter, which means that I'm just wandering around trying to figure out what I need to take. Or buy. Which is probably going to include a set of saucepans, because...well, because I couldn't fit them in the car on the way home, thus I left them in my uni house in case anyone wanted one.

Packing continues. But...after I have a little nap, yeah?

Anyway, I have also figured out that my salary, if I ever start the job and get one, will leave me with about £0.28 a week for food. Well, more like £15, but still.

Anyone in the Coventry area need a tutor? I do Maths, English, and Physics to A-Level, and Maths, English and all the sciences for GCSE. And, you know, a girl needs to eat.

Necks, please!

2008-11-06T10:57:00.003Z

Owww. For two reasons. One: yes, I know, it was a very bad pun. You'll live. Two: my neck is killing me. Also my trapezius. Which is the muscle that...it's the one that runs between your shoulder blades.

So I was with the reflexologist yesterday. She's lovely, she goes to my church, and she's a genius with magical hands. Unfortunately, even that was not enough to work the twenty-odd years of stored tension out of my neck and back. Well, not completely anyway.

So I now have to sleep with a rolled-up towel under my neck, instead of on a pillow, because in the last couple of weeks it's been so painful. And this morning, you will find me searching for stretching exercises on the Internet, and wearing a scarf.

Crackling noises, I'm telling you, every time I move my head.

Ow.

Ok, I'm done now. I'm going to go stretch again.

[/self pity]

Moving, weddings and Hamlet

2008-11-03T18:19:00.005Z

OK! So I haven't exactly got the job. But all the checks are being done and stuff. They're phoning my references, yadda yadda yadda. This, it seems to me, is about as much of a confirmation as I'm going to get.

So I'm stepping out. And moving house.

I may even have found somewhere to move to! Oh yes, very useful it is too. God just...provides. She's really nice like that. So I'm constructing lists upon lists and figuring out how best to pack all my worldly goods into my dinky little car and transport them across the seas.

And, in true Beauty Tips for Ministers style, I'm figuring out what clothes need replaced, mended, teamed up with something warmer, or just burned and never spoken of again. If I'm going to be working with teenagers and playing Frisbee, I need stuff which will move with me, and prevent any Festivals of Inappropriate Sharing. Cos that would be unfortunate in the extreme.

So, what else? Well, my shoulders are tied up in knots with leftover tension, and I have no idea how to work it out of them by myself (I mean, flexibility has its limits. I'm not double-jointed, for pity's sake).

I went to a lovely wedding at the weekend. I mean, the groom was late (no idea why) but a lovely wedding nonetheless. And I saw my Better Half, which is never a bad thing at all.

OOH! And, I saw HAMLET! It was so cool. And then found out that David Tennant is leaving Doctor Who. As L put it in her subsequent email:

Nooooooooo!

But I'm sure we'll live.

Anyways, HAMLET! It was amazing, even though we had to queue for three and a half hours to get returns. Such great seats and the staging was awesome and the acting...well, it's the RSC, come on, they're not exactly going to be shabby. We even got a lift home with some people we'd never met before, after they heard our last-train-no-time dilemma. Thanks, Paul and Linda! You rock!

And all is well.

Burn After Reading? More like Burn Before Watching...

2008-10-25T11:18:00.002+01:00

So on Thursday, I went with H&L (two people I've known for so long it's not even funny. Like the fridge magnet says: We'll always be friends. You know too much) to see Burn After Reading.

Spy spoof, we thought. Yay, funny!

But it was not to be. After scarfing down our dinners (H and I had been working, L had spent 8 hours at a computer screen with supernovae) we trotted off to the cinema with wine gums and fruit pastilles.

It was one of those movies where you get to the end and you're waiting for everything to come together and make sense and...it just doesn't.

An attempt at a plot summary: Osborne Cox is fired from the CIA, and is writing his memoirs. His redheaded wife is having an affair with George Clooney, and takes files off his computer to show to her divorce lawyer. The files include his memoirs, which the lawyer's secretary drops on the floor of the gym. It is picked up by Brad Pitt and Blonde who wants plastic surgery. They decide to blackmail Osborne Cox, and when that doesn't work, they go to the Russians. (The Russians?) In the end, everyone is having an affair with everyone else, George Clooney kills Brad Pitt and goes to Venezuela, Osborne is dead, the gym manager is dead, everyone's divorced and Blonde gets her plastic surgery.

It was a pointless movie. It wasn't even particularly funny, just insane, which is not quite the same thing. And nothing happened, by which I mean lots of people died but we didn't care at all because it was so stupid.

I would skip this one, if I were you.

Wherefore art thou, good movies?

Oooh, specs!

2008-10-06T11:06:00.002+01:00

Guess what?

I'm getting an eye test soon.

And when I do, the nice people at Brogan's are going to put new lenses in a pair of spectacles which were given to me with the words 'These would suit you!' instead of me having to buy new frames.

This is good.

I will post a picture of my new glasses when I get them!

The Exegesis Fairy vs. The Principle of Equity

2008-09-30T23:51:00.008+01:00

Oh yes.

I was reading the Church Times and I was thinking, gosh.

Here is the quote the writer started with:

“HENCE, I conclude that we ought not to judge homosexuality according to a few passages of scripture, but in accordance with the principle of equity.”

Hmm. Sounds suspiciously liberal to me... heh heh heh.

Would you like to guess who said that? (No peeking)

Okay, it'll make it easier if I tell you our writer was cheating a little.

The person who originally wrote it was not talking about homosexuality. They were talking about something that is mentioned twice as often in Scripture and in much more condemnatory terms.

Give up?

Ok.

It was John Calvin.

And usury.

Stop the presses! I agree with Calvin!

Well, on the principle of equity anyway. I dunno what Calvin thought of gay people. I could make a guess, but whatever.

There are very clear Biblical statements condemning lending money at interest (usury).

(In case you're interested: Exodus 22:25-27, Leviticus 25:35-37, Deuteronomy 23:19,20, Nehemiah 5:10,11, Psalm 15:5, Proverbs 28:8, Isaiah 24:1-3, Jeremiah 15:10, Ezekiel 18:7-9, 13, 17, 22:12, and two parables which use it but don't to me make any specific comment on its morality: Matthew 25:14-29 and Luke 19:11-26.)

But I have a bank account, an ISA, and plans to some day buy a house, probably by taking out a (gasp!) mortgage.

And no church I have ever come across has a problem with this. In fact, they also have bank accounts earning interest, and so on.

I wonder, if in 200 years, the big debate we're having will be seen as a sign of something new having its time, breaking through. The labour pains for a better understanding of the Golden Rule and how we relate to one another.

But right now it hurts, and right now we weep. But we have no choice here. We must love anyway.

And we will. It is the strength and the love of Christ that moves us. We cannot stand otherwise.

Late night edition of 'Ooh, shoes!'

2008-09-30T23:37:00.002+01:00

Ahem.

I don't usually do shoe lust. I mean, shoes are for feet, and who looks down there very often? But...well, I saw these in M&S today, and they were so pretty I just had to have them.

Of course, I don't have any money, so I couldn't buy them. And stealing them was out too. So, I'll content myself with a picture.

Look! Red! Pretty! Soft!

Gah, sensitive skin!

2008-09-30T14:15:00.002+01:00

Oh yes, it's happened again.

Stressed? Me? No...well, a bit...well, a lot...

Anyway, I woke up this morning with the whole left side of my face red, sore and with the most wonderfully lumpy texture.

I think I may be allergic to our washing powder. Or at least my face is.

Ow. Bad face. And I have to work tonight. Great. If you're in a supermarket and you happen to see a girl who looks like a Batman villain, that'll be me.

Grumble.