What do I want?

What do I want in a man? I’ve been thinking about this over the last few days. Do I really know?

Thinking about Church Boy (CB). What is it about him that I like? Now I’ve got past the obsession, what about him attracts me. Or is it just because we’re comfortable friends and can pretty much talk about anything?

But I (slightly squiffily) told him a few weeks ago that he’d spoiled all other guys for me. So I need to try to narrow it down. Just to get it a bit clearer in my head. What is it?

He’s strong in his faith So many of my friends have compromised, are with guys who either don’t believer or nominally believe, and I’ve seen how it changes their beliefs, changes their priorities, keeps them away from church, from fellowship, from community.

He’s musical Shallow, I know, but he plays a mean guitar, drums like a dream and has a voice I could melt away to! But… I love music, so that’s a good thing. Though he works in music, which means irregular working.

He’s intelligent I don’t mean he’s an intellectual boffin, but he likes to learn and likes to talk about it.

He’s honest Tells it like it is. Doesn’t play games.

He’s a good listener He likes to talk, but he’ll also listen.

He’s encouraging If I can ever pin him down for that long-promised guitar lesson!

It’s not all about him He knows life is bigger than just him, and when he’s committed to something/someone, gives his all. He’s given a lot to the church over the last year, and it’s cost him. Big time.

He’s funny I don’t always get his humour, and I sometimes think he can be childish (what man can’t?), but he’s funny. And can see the black humour in things, which sometimes is needed.

I can’t think of anything else concrete. I think a lot of it is because we know each other so well, we’ve been through a lot (church-wise) together and have seen the best – and worst – of one another.

It’s just a real shame he doesn’t like me in that way. Ah well. There must be something better to come. Whatever shape or form – or not – that comes in.

Too open

Open book

I’m an open book,
with a technicolour cover
that tells it all.
No mystery,
no intrigue,
nothing to catch a reader’s eye,
nothing to make them want
to find out more
about the story inside.
[Sleeping Daisy]

I think I share too much. More than I should. It’s not just about me – when I talk about how I feel, I’m talking about someone else too. There’s another involved. And it’s all very well sharing with the anonymity of blogging. But offline…

“If one partner doesn’t know whether they can trust the other, they will not share certain things. And these may be the kinds of things that if there were trust, would bring them together.

Is this between you and me,

or you, me, and your friends?

Because that is going to change how much I tell you,

how much I let you in,

how much I trust you with,

how much I give to you.

How naked I get with you.

Is this argument between you and me,

or between you and me and whoever you are going to tell about it?

Is this quirky habit of mine something I let you see because I know you love me no matter what, or is this something you will entertain our friends with at a party?

How safe are you?”

Sex God, Rob Bell

I’m not sure I’m very safe.

I need to work on that, as it won’t do me any favours in the long run. And has the potential to cost me dearly.

But as a processor, how do I work through my problems without sharing?

Weird weekend

Update

Insane! How do people get this drunk/crazed/angry?

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It’s been an odd weekend. Last night we found out about the death of an 8-year-old boy from our community.

Today this turned everybody’s journey to church into a nightmare – the 7 minute journey became 20 minutes after the police cordoned off half a mile of the Holloway Road.

We had our final church service at the church hall, the processed across to our sister church. And got in the way of all those people who’d been diverted off the Holloway Road. We were led by the Bishop and 2 of the teenagers who were carrying the cross across apparently got into a bit of a barney. And they were next to the Bishop.

Then we had our annual parish meeting and ratified the election of the new PCC (I’m still on it).

And all through the weekend I’ve been very much under the weather, having been off work Thursday and Friday with a nasty sore throat, cough and temperature.

And tomorrow I have to get up early for a physio appointment about my wrists.

So I’ll be going back to work for a bit of a rest!

Alien (not a post about Doctor Who)

a·li·en

adj.

1. Owing political allegiance to another country or government; foreign: alien residents.

2. Belonging to, characteristic of, or constituting another and very different place, society, or person; strange. (Synonym: foreign.)

3. Dissimilar, inconsistent, or opposed, as in nature: emotions alien to her temperament.

n.

1. An unnaturalized foreign resident of a country. Also called noncitizen.

2. A person from another and very different family, people, or place.

3. A person who is not included in a group; an outsider.

4. A creature from outer space: a story about an invasion of aliens.

5. Ecology An organism, especially a plant or animal, that occurs in or is naturalized in a region to which it is not native.

tr.v. a·li·ened, a·li·en·ing, a·li·ens Law

To transfer (property) to another; alienate.

---

[Middle English, from Old French, from Latin - other.]

We talked about the alien at church this evening.

• ” ‘Do not mistreat an alien or oppress him, for you were aliens in Egypt.’” Exodus 22:21
• ” ‘When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Leave them for the poor and the alien. I am the LORD your God.’ ” Leviticus 23:22
• ” ‘The land must not be sold permanently, because the land is mine and you are but aliens and my tenants.’ ” Leviticus 25:23
• ” ‘If one of your countrymen becomes poor and is unable to support himself among you, help him as you would an alien or a temporary resident, so he can continue to live among you.’ ” Leviticus 25:35
• “He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing.” Deuteronomy 10:18
• ” Do not deprive the alien or the fatherless of justice.” Deuteronomy 24:17
• “Hear my prayer, O LORD, listen to my cry for help; be not deaf to my weeping. For I dwell with you as an alien, a stranger, as all my fathers were.” Psalm 39:12
• ” Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God’s people and members of God’s household.” Ephesians 2:19

The alien – or stranger – is mentioned a lot in the Bible; a lot more than the examples I’ve found here.

Talking about the alien is two-fold:

1. How we treat the stranger among us.
2. Who we are on this earth and where we live and work.

The alien and our neighbour are the same thing – and Jesus teaches us that our neighbour is not always the person we expect them to be. In fact: our neighbour is everyone. We have local neighbours and global neighbours. And if we are to love them as we love ourselves, then that puts a whole new outlook on how we live our lives. And that brings about a need for social justice.

But If we are the alien that also impacts on how we live our lives. We’re not called to blend in. We’re called to stand out, to be counter-cultural, to be relevant. Easier said than done, I know. I offer no suggestions, just thoughts.

And I did start thinking. I started thinking about how I live my life, who I impact, how I help the stranger or alien. Which I don’t think I do. And how can I? What are my giftings?

And then I started thinking about the one person I have been seeming to have an impact on. G is an alcoholic. He slipped again before Christmas, but is back in recovery again. He’s done it before, he can do it again. He’s been sleeping rough again for a while – he got into a fight and was thrown out of his hostel. He hangs around the gardens at church, which is where we, the church, first met him, before he sobered up about 18 months ago.

When I meet him it often seems to be significant for him. I seem to make a difference for him. I’m honest with him. I don’t talk the Christian clap trap that people often talk to those who have substance abuse problems. I tell it like it is to him. But he has a faith, we’ve been in a home group together, he came round for Christmas dinner two years ago. But I seem to make a difference in his life. However small that might seem to me.

And there’s a woman who comes to church, another recovering alcoholic, who likes my honesty, my f*** ups and the fact that I tell it straight how I see it, and don’t try to warp (I meant to write wrap there, but I think this is a better word for what I’m trying to say) things to fit a happy clappy Christian viewpoint.

And that got me thinking. Where do I like being, what do I like doing? Where have I most often felt at home in my life. And to be honest, it’s behind a bar. Which doesn’t really fit with a Christian lifestyle (and doesn’t really pay for a London lifestyle either). But we’re not called to fit in, to mould, are we?

If people ever ask what my ideal job would be, it would be a funny little old man’s pub (British people will know the type), with the locals that come in and spend the day there, where the barmaid is part barmaid, part psychotherapist. And, if you have the ‘luck’ I have, you get 80-year-old men trying to snog you when you’re only 23!

But I enjoy it. I can be that listening ear, if I’ve got a reason. The bar liberates me from my awkwardness and enables me to talk to just about anybody. The conversations I had a Greenbelt last year from behind the bar were amazing (but I’m not doing that again, as I didn’t get my proper Greenbelt experience. This year I’m going as a punter, but helping on the Workshop stand). Some people opened up in amazing ways.

So this is something to think about. Maybe it will be another one of those great ideas that comes to nothing, that I seem to have a lot of. But then God works in mysterious ways.

Why?

A young woman who worked at the local school, single mother to a boy with learning difficulties, died of a brain haemorrhage last weekend.

An 8-year-old boy whose mother volunteered at one of our church projects, died from anaphylactic shock yesterday, the result of a nut allergy. It’s not clear how he came into contact with nuts. I met him once. He was a lovely, nice, polite little lad.

Why?

India

Update on my India page.

It’s all about Jesus

But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
and by his wounds we are healed.
Isaiah 53:5

Warning: this post shares a bit too much. Particularly for boys.

A coping mechanism

I’ve never gone quite this far, but have been tempted on occasions. I understand why people do it. Sometimes things hurt inside so much that you need to mask the pain. Some people drink. Some people take drugs. Some people have sex. Others keep fit. Others diet or overeat.

There’s also an element of self-despising. When you don’t value yourself, you can’t see that you’re made in God’s image. You can’t see that you need to respect yourself, and that part of respecting yourself it keeping yourself fit and healthy (not going to extremes). Part of if is about relationships as well. You think you don’t deserve to be in a relationship, so do things to yourself which make you ashamed, keep you away from relationships. It’s a coping mechanism. Of sorts. And it backfires.

But then it becomes a habit. And habits are hard to break.

Images: The Ongoing Adventures of ASBO Jesus

Show hospitality to strangers

Just commands us to show hospitality to strangers. But how far do we go with that? How much hospitality do we show them? Can we set limits on what we give to others?

And when they take the piss? What then do we do? Do we let people get away with it, or do we set boundaries, call them to account?

I live in a houseshare with 4 others. And despite us all being Christians, it’s an absolute nightmare, much of the life. The others don’t seem to mind living in a filthy house. One of them habitually lets friends stay, which wouldn’t be a problem except he a) doesn’t ask, b) doesn’t tell us when they’re turning up, and c) seems to expect that somehow someone will be around to let them in. Even if it’s the middle of the night and he’s gone skiing in Switzerland for the week.

Now, just been ranting at one of my other housemates and her boyfriend about him, and turns out he’d been in his room all that time and it’s possible he may have heard most of what was said. Most of which wasn’t great. But then I start to think, why should I care? Talking to him makes no difference. He shows a basic lack of consideration for others. And I know that tit for tat is not a good way forward, but when all I really want to do it cause him serious bodily harm, avoiding him is probably the safest option.

Oh to live alone!

Commitment

I’m a commitment phobe.

Cartoon courtesy of cartoonstock.