'I am a Viking'

I am a Christian. I think that statement means something different to everyone. To me it means to be living by the Bible. The whole Bible. Truth, love, obedience and all that. There are so many people around that SAY they are a Christian, but I am not convinced they have really looked into what it means to BE one.

I can say I am a Kiwi. I am a Kiwi. It means I am from New Zealand (affectionately), I grew up there, I was raised there. I know New Zealand. I love New Zealand. I understand the culture and laws, what is acceptable and what is not (in most general situations) etc... So I know what it means to BE a Kiwi. However, I could just as easily say 'I am Viking'. I have never been to Scandanavia. I don't really understand why they invaded anywhere (if, in fact, they DID invade anywhere), I don't know what language they speak or understand their culture. But I used to read my brother's Astrix comics when I was younger and I always thought it would be pretty cool to do the stuff he did. And the clothing they wear is pretty cool too. I like the big cave-like structures they hang out in, and the men look so big and strong! So if I say I am a viking, then I would be labled as being as cool as them.

And then my claim to Vikingdom is shattered when a REAL Viking comes along and proves to everyone who believed me (or those that are happy to just go along because I wasn't trying to turn them into a Viking), that I am SO not a Viking. But this real viking that has come along, doesn't even need to say anything about what he is, because people can just tell. He is wearing the gear, speaks Norwegian (or whatever that exotic tongue is speaking!), acts, looks and sounds like a Viking. Has an amazing knowledge of the history of the viking, and his eyes sparkle a little when he talks of his Motherland... He is a Viking. I am not. Shot down.

So how can you tell I am a Christian? Ask me. Do my eyes sparkle a little when I talk of my God? How about when I talk of what He did for me? How about when I talk of what He has done for you? My heart is different. I don't want to do the things He doesn't want me to do. I am free. I live free. If I do things, think things, say things that are not "Christian", I would want to make them right. Apologise when necessary. Bridge gaps. Have healthy, honest relationships. I live my life striving DO what the Bible says is good for me. And most of the time it's hard. It would be so easy to live by my own choices. But I would be a slave to this world, only to go to Hell for eternity once this struggle is done.

If someone (including me) says they are a Christian, I challenge you to ask them what that means. And then hold them accountable to it.

Shopping trolleys

What is it with people not returning their shopping trolleys? The ones that need coins to use them seem to get returned. It is so selfish and disrespectful to leave your trolley in the car park after you're done with it. Not to mention lazy. I'll be willing to bet that those people who leave those trolleys in the vacant parking spots or pathways, hate it when they've pulled up to the only park left outside the supermarket and it's raining.

Or the trolley bays that name which brand trolley goes where, and people don't read or they don't care and makes more work for others!

I have to wonder if they think of anyone but themselves. If you are not willing to return a trolley don't use one. And if you are a Christian and guilty of this, where is the fruit in that? How is that esteeming others higher than ourselves?

Rush Rush

everything moves so fast in the city. I moved to Brisbane last year with my Husband and two children from a little country town. A town with a population of only 10,000. (Like I said: small country town.) A town that had two sets of traffic lights and two supermarkets, (one of which recently burnt down), people gave way to others on the road, allowed vehicles into the stream of traffic, knew your name and who you are related to. People are not generally interested in the amount of money you make. It took about 4 minutes to drive my daughter to school and an additional 2 minutes to drop my son at his grandmothers before arriving at work a whole 15 minutes after I left home. To duck down to supermarket was, literally, a five minute task. And you were home an actual 5 minutes after you left.


There were, of course, downfalls to living in such a small town, (some of which were also advantages). Everyone knew who you were related to. If you wanted to walk down the street without seeing anyone you knew, you'd need to go to Melbourne. So what could have been a quick five minute trip to the supermarket on the only day you are in a rush, you see everyone you know on the way there and the way back! I'm pretty sure in the 10 months I've lived in Brisbane, I haven't seen anyone I know in the supermarket.


But everyone seems like they are in such a huge rush. Even on the roads. You can be banked up on the highway crawling along at a walking pace, and people are bent on passing and skipping lanes to get ahead just that extra couple of meters... what the?


But you never seem to get there any faster. Slow and steady wins the race. So the tortoise wins. I seem to have relaxed a lot since moving to the city- funnily enough. I read in the Bible 'Be still and know that I am God'. It's too easy to get caught up in the race and forget about the important things. being still requires me to stop, amid the rat race of life, and put into perspective what I'm doing and why i'm doing it. I love trying to understand why. Because when I get why I'm doing it (whatever it is) I quite often cease doing it, realising it's pointless or has no real purpose  or it degrading or whatever it may be.


Have you asked yourself "WHY?" lately?

Cleaning. Such a dirty word. I will have to say that I really don't enjoy cleaning. My poor husband has been 'blessed' with a woman who finds cleaning such a hindrance to her life. But it's true! Cleaning is a bore. And so overwhelming when looking at the entire building. OK so maybe I am exaggerating when I call my tiny house a building. But it may as well be the Mercure! Although not as fancy it feels just as big with a vacuum. If cleaning was cool, I'm sure I'd enjoy it. Like, if I had a utility belt like Batman, that if I just pushed a button magical things would happen....


But dreaming of the impossible or far-fetched clearly doesn't get the house clean. I have so many books on cleaning (I know, it's like a science right?) and how to keep a home tidy and stress free in just 15mins a day. And it works brilliantly! For about a week.


I get bored with routine. That is the truth. If things don't change all the time for me I get bored. And it requires hard work. Lets be completely honest. Hard work is scary. I just want an easy ride. So do you, admit it. I just have the gusto to say it out loud... or post it on the internet if you'd rather. And yet it is said that you don't get the same satisfaction out of something if you just get handed things without having to work for it. Is this true for everything? I think not. You think about it.  

not cool...

So I go and go and go on all 6 six cylinders as they say, until I feel like I do. Stuffed. I'm so tired. Late nights for too long seem to catch up on me and takes me ages to get over them. Another reminder that I am not getting any younger. But then I feel irritable and impatient because I have forgotten to take care of myself. not cool...

why do that?

Did you ever wonder why we do the things we habitually do? Like putting the milk in before the hot water? Or not eating meat on Good Friday? Or using worms for bait? I guess some of the answers are fairly practical. Because otherwise the coffee tastes burnt. Because that's the way my grandpa fished. 


So what about tradition? I guess some traditions are great. Meeting with the family at birthdays and Christmas. Kissing your kids goodbye when you leave them at school (if that even qualifies as a tradition), pancakes on a Saturday night. But I have often wondered if ALL tradition is good. 


My daughter (now 8) used to attend a Lutheran school. They observe this odd tradition called Lent. They withhold foods or delicacies or temptations for 40days leading up to Easter. I know, like I said odd. Or so I thought. My husband and I do not agree with the necessity of following such traditions and disagree with a fair bit of the Lutheran church's doctrinal teaching, however, last year my daughter comes home and says she has committed to having NO chocolate for Lent. I thought she was bonkers. Who in their right mind would go without chocolate for 40 days voluntarily? And without even knowing what for?


 I asked her why Lent happens and what was it for? Surprisingly, she astounded me with a simple pearl of wisdom: 'to help you concentrate on God and not the chocolate'. Wow. So I, without thinking clearly, blurted out of mouth that I would join her in this quest and go without chocolate also for 40 days. Bonkers. I tried to reel the words back in but they were gone. Into the land of Mad Commitment. Oh well, I thought, if she can do this so can I. So off I went to bed, happy about the decision I'd made.


And the next day I ate a Snickers bar.


I FORGOT!!! Clearly it was not a heartfelt decision. So I apologized to my daughter and repented to God and really delved into why I even wanted to do this no chocolate thing. (and I use the word 'want' very loosely). I really did want to concentrate more on God and have a better relationship with Him. I wanted to support my daughter in her decision to do this because I loved hearing her say why she wanted to. I did (do) admittedly allow chocolate into my life a little too often (OK a lot). Fasting seems to work really well for me to push into the Word more, so maybe withholding my decadent delight for awhile might actually do me some good- spiritually and physically.   


So began my 40 day journey. And it was great. It really did help me. Once I committed to God  and believed it in my heart that I wanted to do it and for the right reasons, I found this odd tradition... not odd. I loved that I thought more about God whenever I wanted chocolate, but I didn't find it hard to say no to either. 


I think if the tradition takes over and turns into a rule that eliminates Godly heartfelt reason, I am keen to not follow it. But if the tradition, whatever it may be, causes you to be or do good... can it be bad?