You what?!

I've now had three weeks worth of Systematic Theology seminars and I've yet to understand a flamin' thing?! Questions abound - not least will I ever get it?!

After all, 'was Origen's hermenteutical use of allegorical writing really non-esoteric?'

Or is it really 'a false dichotomy or overly simplistic to polarise Pseudo-Dionysius's apophatic and catophatic assertions?' Is it 'an either or or both?'

Still it could be worse. I mean I could find that what I've got to read - in order to understand what on earth is going on in the 'classroom' - was similarly opaque...

Exhibit 'A' (taken from the Mr Dionysius' gripping Mystical Theology - essential course reading!)

'But now as we climb from the last things up to the most primary we deny all things so that we may unhiddenly know that unknowing which itself is hidden from all those possessed of knowing amid all beings, so that we may see above being that darknes concealed from all the light among beings.'

Ah, of course, that clears things up nicely - I couldn't agree more?!

Is there no end to a mother's love?

Apparently not!














At least not when your boys are sniffing and snorting they're way through thick colds. The above picture represents the seemingly bounldess love Lisa has for Joshua and Daniel as she lovingly employs the 'snot sucker' to relieve they're breathing.

I love my boys, but....?!

Overly competitive?

Without doubt, one of the most recurring questions we've faced over the last two and a half years we've been in Stratford is why we're here - and specifically 'why have [you] moved to Stratford?' Inevitably the enquiry is laced with disbelief!

Given the result of a recent 'survey' and the fact that most people who can, move out, their incredulity would seem justified. According to the poll, Newham (the borough in which Stratford is located) is the 'third worst place to live in Britain'! Apparently we [Newham] 'have to face lots of challenges. Health, unemployment, crime and teenage pregnancy levels are alarming. It has many of the downsides of living in London and few of the benefits – except the kind you get off the social.' Nice!

I guess I haven't completely died to my competitive streak becasue I wanted to know who'd 'beaten us'?!

What's more, Chelmsford (our former home) was judged to be the 8th best place to live(!) - that's some 'downward' spiral! However well versed our answer is to the question 'why Stratford?' the real answer will come down to what God does through us in a place we call 'home'.

[Things could be worse - we could live in Middlesborough - apparently the worst place to live in Britain?!] Maybe Newham will 'win' next year.

Thursday nights...

...I love Thursday nights. They're always so simple. Youth Club - Question Time - a milky coffee and some biscuits (although tonight was some home-made banana loaf!)! I am a simple man after all.

I've always been one of those strange people who enjoys the verbal cut and thrust of Mr Dimbleby and his weekly panel. I guess because I want to hear what people have got to say - what answers they've got. of course it's often a frustrating experience as politicians are notoriously evasive when it comes to answers?!

But I don't mind so much - more often than not it's just as interesting to hear the questions!

But then it's not just Question Time - life recently has been more about questions than answers. Maybe that's one of the reasons I've not been blogging so much - I've got no answers to 'share'. Then two things hit me - I might not be alone - and questions might not be a bad place to start anyway!














I vaguely remember some Rabbi saying that 'God is the question, our lives are the answer' - I liked that. I still do. And if God is 'the question' that can't be a bad place to start.

It's been a while!

Too many plates to spin or a spinner who’s not up to it(?), either way it’s been seventy-seven days since last I ‘blogged’ about anything.

Since when… the Salvation Army have bought a house for us to live in. We finally(!) had a dedication (Christening) for Joshua and Daniel. I (briefly) lost my life to Facebook! I had a great week at InTouch (the Army’s sportsweek for 8-12 year olds). I entered my 33rd year and received a card from my Gran ‘to her nephew’?! My Dad turned 60 which gave us an excuse to throw a surprise ‘This Is Your Life’ celebration. His oldest grandson had his second birthday. We found dry-rot in the Army’s new ‘investment’! I lost another pint of blood (voluntarily I should add). I took part in my first protest (much to my father’s displeasure!). I’ve gone back to university – Kings College London this time. Joshua's started using the toilet and gone into a proper bed! I've been to my first Chinese wedding and last Sunday married my cousin (to her husband obviously!) – one less Hanover in the world! And we’ve just had another great week in Scotland (where I nearly climbed my first ‘Munro’). Throughout it all Daniel hasn’t slept much!

A perfect parenting metaphor?

Apparently there is a common reason why people who drown in rivers do so - they get caught between two opposing currents, one going downstream, one going upstream. Now if this ever happens to you the perceived wisdom is that you should let yourself sink to the bottom and let the downstream current carry you away from the rapids before you try to come up for air?!

So there you have it, a perfect metaphor for parenting: sink, so you don't drown! As the Borg in Star Trek would say 'resistance is futile. You will be assimilated!'

As parents of two wonderfully full-time boys(!) we have no choice but to surrender to the madness!

Bottom line: as hard as it is now having two little dictators, when we're 80, sorry when I am 80 (Lisa will be 81!), we're not going to regret our 50 year old sons! I mean, am I going to wish that I played more golf, run more, or played more with the boys? Am I going to wish that I worked more, or spent time with my family?

Where is that white flag?!

Unbelievable?!

Along with the boys, Lisa has been visiting her Mum and Nan for the last couple of days in an effort to enable me to get on with a fair bit of prep. that's needed to be done - and by and large I've got through it. But then this morning on the phone Lisa commented that she knew I'd been watching The West Wing! How would she know such a thing? Has she employed one of these 'detective people' to make sure I get on with stuff?! How much of a procrastinator does she think I am? (Actually let's not go there!!) Are there cameras dotted around the flat?! Well, thankfully not, it turns out she read my blog and deduced, Poirot-esque, that recent quotes meant recent watching!

Well look what else I've been doing (Lisa!)... I've been reading the chapter in the book you left for me 'Baby-proofing your marriage'.

All joking aside it's a good read with a good mix of shared experience and humour. I'd certainly recommend it to anyone with little terrorists (sorry children!), or those thinking of having children, in fact it may become a common gift from the Hanover household.

I wouldn't want to put anyone off, but be warned...

'If a first baby is a hand grenade thrown at a marriage, then a newborn and a toddler are a full-frontal assault, complete with machine guns, heat-seeking missiles, and stealth bombers.'

because...

'when you have one child, one parent parents while the other does his or her own thing. With the additional demands of more children, it gets harder to carve out any 'me time'. Not having time to recharge and feed your sense of self is, for many, the real challenge of adjusting to having more kids. Personal time is like a search for the Fountain of Youth, or the Seven Wonders of the World. It's like winning the lottery.'

The problem being...

'that when we lose the 'joie de vivre' activities we get emotionally and physically drained. What is left over, we usually give to our kids first. When our internal reserves are low, our threshold for dealing with our spouse's annoying quirks (what quirks?!) also gets dangerously low. At times, we circle each other like wolves, ready to fight over the scraps of free time that do exist.'

And then...

'When you do get to talk, 90% of the time you talk about the kids. While those conversations are necessary, when we relate to each other only as whoever's parents, it becomes pretty hard to keep the spark alive.'

Thankfully the writers don't only make plain the harsh realities, they draw upon their own experiences to suggest 'survival techniques and strategies'! Which I'll share shortly.

More West Wing Wisdom

'A nation reveals itself not only by the men in produces, but also by the men it honours.'

Not one of Josiah Bartlett's, the credit goes to John F. Kennedy

The Provocative 'Art of life'?

In Simon Schama's wonderful book 'The Power of Art' the abstract expressionist artist Mark Rothko is quoted, critiquing the developing art world of his day and the lot of artists within it...

'When I was a younger man, art was a lonely thing. No galleries, no collectors... no critics. No money.

Yet it was a golden age. For we all had nothing to lose - and a vision to gain.

Today it is not quite the same. It is a time of verbage. Activity, and consumption.

Which condition is better for the world at large? I will not venture to discuss. But I do know that many of those who are driven to this life are desperately searching for those pockets of silence where we can root and grow.

We must all hope we find them.'

Not everyone connects with his art but his critique of the artistic millieu of his day would surely extend to society at large, including our own.

Like Rothko I reckon there are many people in our community yearning for opportunities, space to 'root and grow'.
As Rothko does, I can't help doubting that incessant activity and noise do not readily encourage 'pockets of silence'.
Yet I share Rothko's hope that we will encounter moments where we can 'be still and know'.

The challenge remains for us all individually and corporately for those who gather as church.

The challenge, as it was for the artistically provocative Rothko before us, is to discover how, amongst the hustle and bustle of 21st century living, to express distinct, yet viable alternative ways of living.

Love it or hate Rothko's work always produced a reaction, a response. Surely our lives must do likewise. After all, 'unless there is something about church, or Christians, or Christian faith that intrigues, provokes or entices, then all the evangelism in the world will fall on deaf ears. If churches cannot conyey a sense of ‘reality’ then all our ‘truth’ will count for nothing. Unless someone wants to hear, there’s no point in shouting louder. Churches need to become provocative, arresting places which make the searcher, the casual visitor, want to come back for more.' [Graham Tomlin, The Provocative Church]

Better late than never?

Fashionable or not, I've recently felt like I've arrived rather late for a number of 'parties':

1. Ebay - obviously I've been aware of it over the last couple of years(!) but I've only just started to 'interact'! Which isn't completely without peril, I mean any site with this much Lego is a dangerous thing for an overgrown 8 year old!

2. The work of Rufus Wainwright. I guess someone Elton John describes as the 'best songwriter in the world' is hardly a 'find', but until a friend recently introduced me to him I was none the wiser. Last week I bought his latest album 'Release the Stars', I use the word advisedly, but it's fantastic - pure class. Buy it and hear it, no, experience it for yourself!

3. Peep Show - A show with 3 series behind it is not exactly a breaking story, but a hastily purchased DVD box set is addressing our tardy appreciation. Bizarrely Peep Show is proving rather enriching for married life because while it's not unusual that Lisa and I laugh at the same stuff, it is pretty rare that we do so with the same enthusiasm! (Are we alone here?) So the fact that Lisa insists that I 'pause it' when she leaves the room is uncommonly new territory! It would appear that we love it in equal measure - rare indeed! Admittedly I think Lisa hates the fact that she like it, but a reluctantly shared passion is a shared passion nonetheless!

NB: one party I'm not looking to attend anytime soon, no matter how many 'friends' invite me.... is Super Malt - an acquired taste I have no inclination to acquire! (if you're not sure what it is I wouldn't worry!)

Freedom for the captives?

At the moment, thanks to my friends at charliechikankata, I'm reading 'The Shackled Continent' - an enlightening if uncomfortable read. Recognising that Africa is the only continent to have grown poorer over the last three decades Robert Guest seeks to diagnose the sickness that conitnues to hobble Africa's development.

Geography, colonialism, poverty, AIDS and the prevelance of disease, power-thirsty tyrants, bad governance, poor aid, unfair, and iniquitous trade restrictions amongst other things are all examined and critiqued:

'[The] problem with blaming the legacy of colonialism for Africa's current woes is that it gives little clue as to how these woes could be ended. history, like geography, cannot be changed. Grieving for past wrongs is natural and human, but it can also provide an excuse for despair. If today's problems are the fault of the West, the obvious thing to do is demand that the West should solve them. The trouble with this approach is twofold. Firstly, today Westerners do not feel particularly guilty about the sins of dead people who happened to come from the same country. Secondly, efforts by rich countries to solve Africa's problems have, over the last few decades, been spectacularly unsuccessful. Put differently, countries that prosper tend to do so by their own efforts.'

Grieving for past wrongs is natural and human, but it can also provide an excuse for despair.

Having spent time in this wonderful continent and with many African friends I'm finding Guest's book a shockingly stark and painful book to read, but there are stories of hope as well. Uganda's success in curbing the spread of AIDS, Botswana's peaceful prosperity and the continent's economic engine, South Africa, avoiding a full-blown civil war.

Guest's own question is 'how can Africa keep pace with a world that won't slow down?'

[Funnily enough, as parents of two small boys who show no signs of 'slowing down' (or sleeping!) Lisa and I have been asking a similar question?!]

The unlikely hope of an 'impossible' peace?

A couple of things I've read today seem to be suggesting the same thing.

According to Charles Ringma:

'Hope can be born in the seemingly most impossible of situations. Hope does not need hopeful circumstances to raise a vision for a better future. Hope can be born in the most humble circumstances. It can spring up in the most unlikely places. And frequently, it is possessed by the most unlikely people. Hope frequently eludes the rich and powerful. It often makes it's home with the poor and needy'

While in Robert Guest's 'The Shackled Continent' I came across a story that adds surprising weight to Ringma's thoughts.

'In the early 1990s, two religious terrorists in Nigeria, Muhammad Ashafa and James Wuye, tried to have each other killed. It was during a burst of religious rioting for which Mr Ashafa blamed the Christian parliamentary group led by Mr Wuye, and Mr Wuye blamed Mr Ashafa' Muslim youth organisation. Christian assassins knocked on Mr Ashafa's door and killed the man who answered it. Their victim, as it happened, was Mr Ashafa's uncle. But they did not realize this. Meanwhile, Muslim assassins attacked Mr Wuye, hacked his arm off, and left him for dead.

Both men believed they had killed the other. When they later discovered that they had not, they took it as a sign from God that they should make peace. So they set up a joint charity to promote dialogue between Muslism and Christians. Now passionately committed to encouraging people of faith to live in harmony, Mr Wuye and Mr Ashafa are now the best of friends'(!).

An unlikely hope? Well, as likely as 'Christian assassins'!

Legacy?

Will it be the conflict in Iraq or peace in Northern Ireland? How will Tony Blair be remembered? What will his 'legacy' be? It would seem that for some this question is becoming all-consuming - it's all about legacy!

Which I guess is a human enough concern - how will any of us be 'remembered'? What will we 'leave behind'? I would certainly admit to wondering from time to time what my 'legacy' might be as a parent, a husband, a friend or even as an Officer?

Which is why I was encouraged when I came across Oscar Romero's poem 'Prophets Of A Future Not Our Own' (after all Archbishop Romero's legacy was fairly weighty!)...


This is what we are about:
We plant seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything
and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for God's grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results,
but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders,
ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.

I wonder if Tony has ever come across Mr Romero?

The London Marathon: The Great Suburban Everest!

A peak that every man or woman might aspire to, just about anyone can conquer the distance, but in reality relatively few are prepared to make the effort. For those that are it almost invariably hurts - and hurts a lot!

Which isn't surprising given that during the course of 26miles, 385yards, or 42,195metres, the average runner's feet hit the ground over 30,000 times. And each step sends a shock the equivalent of 3 times your body weight through your legs, your thighs and your spine!

Bizarrely over 35,000 people (including one or two friends of ours) decided the pain was worth it and once again provided a great sporting spectacle and one of the best examples of city-life at its best in the process. Well done Jonny, Garry, Paula, Kevin and Chick! 'You ran with perseverence the race marked out for you!'

I must admit that my enjoyment of the whole thing (which has to be experienced to be believed) was a little tempered by the fact that injury had prevented me being on the other side of the barriers, but still, there's always next year?!

Missing something?

On Wednesday night we spent some time considering the impact of literature - all things written. As ever diverse and provocative converstion ensued centred upon the influence of the persecuted Chinese church leader Brother Yun, Martin Luther King Jnr and J.D. Sallinger. We even heard about a 'wedge-less' circle...


Once a circle missed a wedge. The circle wanted to be whole, so it went around looking for its missing piece. But because it was incomplete and therefore could roll only very slowly, it admired the flowers along the way. It chatted with worms. It enjoyed the sunshine. It found lots of different pieces, but none of them fit. So it left them all by the side of the road and kept on searching.

Then one day the circle found a piece that fit perfectly. it was so happy. now it could be whole, with nothing missing. It incorporated the missing piece into itself and began to roll. Now that it was a perfect circle, it could roll very fast, too fast to notice the flowers of talking to the worms.

When it realized how different the world seemed when it rolled so quickly, it stopped, left its found piece by the side of the road and rolled slowly away.
The lesson of the story, I suggested, was that in some strange sense we are more whole when we are missing something. The man who has everything is in some ways a poor man.

He will never know what it feels like to yearn, to hope, to nourish his soul with the dream of something better. He will never know the experience of having someone who loves him give him something he has always wanted or never had.

There is a wholeness about the person who has come to terms with his limitations, who has been brave enough to let go of his unrealistic dreams and not feel like a failure for doing so.

There is a wholeness about the man or woman who has learned that he or she is strong enough to go through a tragedy and survive, she can lose someone and still feel like a complete person.

Life is not a trap set for us by god so that he can condemn us for failing. Life is not a spelling bee, where no matter how many words you’ve got right, you’re disqualified if you make one mistake. Life is more like a baseball season, where even the best team loses one-third of its games and even the worst team has its days of brilliance. Our goal is to win more games than we lose.

When we accept that imperfection is part of being human, and when we can continue rolling through life and appreciate it, we will have achieved a wholeness that others can only aspire to. That, I believe, is what God asks of us - not to ‘be perfect’, not ‘don’t even make a mistake’, but ‘be whole.’


[Here's hoping the Texas Rangers only lose a third of their games this season now they've got Sammy Sosa sluggin' away at the Ballpark!]

Naked Bicycle People Power!

On Thursday this week we were encouraged to ‘celebrate the collective power of women past, present and future’ on International Women’s Day - something I was more than happy to do!

But as yet I've heard little enthusiasm for today's 'commemorative campaign' - the World Naked Bike Ride! Yep, today across the world we are invited to 'experience the naked joy of the worlds largest naked protest'.

So, in the same way that Christians and churches around the world enthusistically participate in celebrating the role and contribution of women, I'm keen to know how many off us will, in solidarity, strip-off and join the 'protest against oil dependency and car culture in the history of humanity.' After all, as the accompanying web-site declares isn't it 'time to stop indecent exposure to automobile emissions and to celebrate the power and individuality of our bodies!'

BTW: if you're concerned that March is a little chilly for such protestations I'm reliably informed there are two more dates planned for June!

Oh, what a perfect day!

Thursdays are good days.
At least they usually are.
But not always as good as today!

Having spent a great morning with a group of 'Little Acorns' (our parent and toddlers group) and their accompanying parents we headed off to enjoy a gloriously bright and warm Spring day as we met a great friend for lunch. Then Joshua had a chance to terrorise the tourists and pigeons that gathered in Trafalgar Square before we headed home and I got set for Youth Club, which, as ever was 3 hours well spent.

I love Thursdays.
I love London.
I love the Jubilee Line.
I love my wife.
I love my son.
I love my friends.
And I'm also quite partial to a Pizza Hut buffet lunch!

Serre 2007

Back in January me, some mates and my brother were lovingly sent (by our wonderful wives!) to the South of France in search of the ever elusive white stuff (and we're not talking about milk!).

Thankfully for us God blessed us with enough snow for a great week. The company was crackin' and the food phenomenal! If you're looking for a skiing resort with plenty of runs, atmosphere, but without coach loads of Brits - you'd do a lot worse than Serre Chevalier. I can't wait to take Lisa, Joshua and his brother!

It’s easily done!

‘Diesel, diesel, diesel!’

After 18 months you’d think I’d know that our car is a diesel and therefore isn’t best pleased when I ‘feed’ it unleaded!

So you’d think!

(I wonder if I can pin it on Tesco!)

I have a dream!

Actually that’s not true. I had a dream. Last night.

I was playing rugby for Scotland (all right, all right! Remember it’s a dream!)… against England! And we were winning thanks a to Jonny Wilkinson-esque one man show from yours truly! I’d scored three tries and things were going so badly for the English that the coach had taken them off the field for an impromptu team-talk with ten minutes remaining!

What’s more it seemed that the Scottish side actually consisted of me and a squad of rather reluctant English players who I had to work very hard to convince that a ‘win was a win’ even if it was at the expense of your own nation!


Unfortunately it was at this point (6.13am in the ‘real’ world), still with ten minutes remaining (so anything could have happened!) that Joshua decided enough was enough.

My dream of Calcutta Cup glory was literally shattered. But not before I’d been to the ‘mountaintop’!