I have travelled quite extensively around my area of the world but every now and then one finds a gem that has been missed in the past. In our recent trip to South Australia we went to Robe, in the South East corner not far from Mt Gambier. It is situated on an attractive bay. A stone obelisk on Cape Dombey which guided ships to the harbour, is still extant.
In the mid-1800s it was South Australia’s second busiest port. At this time Chinese migrants wishing to avoid Victoria’s arrival tax landed here and walked the 400 kilometres to Ballarat. It is estimated that 16000 travelled this path! The port became redundant with the advent of the railways and the wool and sheepskins which had previously been exported from here found another way of reaching their destinations.
What remains however is an attractive village which, by Australian standards, contains a collection of fine historical buildings – houses, churches and pubs. It is quite a treat to wander around the village with the aid of a pamphlet produced by the local council.
Today it is a holiday retreat with a protected marina for the keen fishermen. The fine old buildings are interspersed with modern units and houses. The town is alive and active but its C21st life is a far cry from the square riggers finding safe harbour here over 150 years ago.
The following is a post by my wife after observing parliament this week.
At a time when our society is becoming a place where rules are up for negotiation at best and completely ignored at worst, the federal election produced a Prime Minister who promises to go back to the parliamentary standards of the past. Less of the adversarial politics. No more shouty Question Time. Politicians held accountable. Integrity.
It’s probable that the PM himself will have trouble holding to his standards but at least he has voiced them; he has put the parliament on notice.
But our world no longer works like that. No wonder then that when a young new politician arrives in the chamber minus the regulation tie, there is a hew and cry. Just a small hew and cry from a fellow MP pointing out the error, followed by a louder Media hew and cry questioning why this archaic rule still exists.
Another young, new politician is asked to give the pledge of allegiance before taking her seat in the Senate. She proceeds to make up her own pledge, elevating herself to Sovereign, and then insulting the Queen. The Media’s reaction? Headlines announcing that it’s time to change the pledge and ditch the monarchy.
Has this become the way we tackle the many ‘laws’ of life? When a father tells his child to eat breakfast and then get ready for school, should the child tell her father that breakfast is not to her taste and “Who made you the boss of me, anyway?” Well, yes. Modern parenting says that response is perfectly fine. Any wonder then that school children are allowed to stamp their feet and shout ‘no!’ That young people are encouraged to belligerently demand ‘why?’ And that our leaders, caught in a lie or a corruption, calmly tell us “Move on, nothing to see here.” Or, worse still, they call for a change to the archaic rules or the restrictive system.
Perversely, when we are confronted with people who don’t behave in a way our new society has deemed to be correct, we want politicians to make a law to force right behaviour. And punishment for those who disobey. Yet we have created a perfect environment that encourages disobedience and non-compliance.
Perhaps the real issue comes back to the young new politician who proclaimed she was ‘Sovereign’. Don’t we all like to think we are the ruler of our own world? Isn’t it time we realised that the title ‘Sovereign’ implies care for others, responsibility, sacrifice, dedication, and most of all, unselfish behaviour?
I first wrote this over 10 years ago. Reflecting on it, I thought it was worth reposting.
Blessed are those who wash their robes, that they may have the right to the tree of life and may go through the gates into the city. Outside are the dogs, those who practice magic arts, the sexually immoral, the murderers, the idolaters and everyone who loves and practices falsehood. Rev 22:14 & 15
Every now and then as I am reading the Bible a phrase or word jumps out at me. It may be something that I hadn’t noticed or reflected on before. In our staff devotions at school Revelation 22 was read and I closed my eyes and listened. I have read or heard this passage on many occasions and reflected on it. However, this time, the phrase “everyone who loves and practices falsehood” made me sit up and take notice.
We live in a world of “spin”. Politicians, companies and celebrities hire “spin’ experts – people to put the “right” perspective on an issue or dilemma. “Spin” is the key to advertising and promotion. I think we could rightly say that “spin” is part of everyday life.
I remember, years ago, attending regular meetings of church leaders and we were called to report on our individual churches. Looking back in hindsight, there was a lot of “spin” happening. Despite issues in the churches, in this public forum we put ourselves in the best light. We do it as individuals as we try to make ourselves look good, knowing all the while, that in reality we are hiding the truth.
A friend once reflected, after a visit to Holland, where one can look into the front rooms of nearly every immaculately presented house, that it reflected his family. The front room, in this case the way his family appeared, was tidy and well kept, but in the back rooms there was chaos anger, lies and pain.
As a culture and society we have become very able practitioners of falsehood. As individuals and churches, we too have been, unthinkingly, drawn into these practices. Why does Jesus include falsehood with idolaters, murderers and sexual morality?
The child of God is the representative of truth. We are called to stand in direct opposition to the enemy, “the father of lies” (John 8:44). John writes “We are from God, and whoever knows God listens to us; but whoever is not from God does not listen to us. This is how we recognize the Spirit of truth and the spirit of falsehood. (1 John4:6)
The Church and the Christian can have no place for “spin” or subterfuge. The world needs to see what truthful lives look like. That also includes honesty when we have mucked things up. Seeking forgiveness is far more constructive (and painful) than spin. The media, quite rightly in my opinion, has highlighted the falsehood of the church. It can only do that when we have not been true to our God of Truth. Rather than blaming the media we should look carefully at ourselves.
For me, this is a tough call. I don’t like being found out. More important though, is my desire to be more like Jesus. The Word tells me that when I know Jesus I “… will know the truth, and the truth will set (me) free.” John 8:32
I first walked into a classroom as an underqualified teacher in 1972. Being a slow learner, there were still some units of study to complete at University. I had started in Economics but switched to History and this change caused a delay. So I wasn’t fully qualified until 1974. What I didn’t know or understand at the time was that I was on the threshold of huge changes in the way that education would develop in the next 50 years. Slow learner or not, I would have to keep my skates on to keep up.
Ocean Grove Primary School circa 1957 – Pieter with slate
A few years ago I visited a great indoor/outdoor museum in Ostersund, Sweden. In the schoolhouse there were desks made up of sand trays – a desk with a thin layer of sand so you could practise your letters or do you sums in the sand and then erase them to leave a blank layer of sand for the next exercise. In Grade 1 at Ocean Grove Primary School we had large black slates and a stick of chalk to do our writing and arithmetic. Things had been this way for a long time.
In 1972, when I began my career, if a teacher wanted multiple copies of a document, a spirit or ink duplicator was used. Spirit duplicators were good for handwritten documents and short runs of under 50. The colour in the stencil would disappear but the students loved the methylated spirits smell and held the sheets of paper to their noses. The ink duplicator would use a wax stencil that had the material typed on it or inscribed with a stylus. This could print hundreds of copies and be retained in a sleeve of blotting paper for future use. The downside was that playing with the dark ink was a messy affair. I would regularly be berated by my child bride for ink on the shirt cuffs. Newfangled photocopiers were too expensive to use for class sized duplication and most copiers still used a grey tinted photographic paper.
Overhead projectors were expensive and the few in the school would be in strong demand. Then video recorders started making an appearance in schools during the mid 1970s. They added some flexibility to the TVs that had been recently brought in, but they were hideously expensive and there were at least three different formats to choose from: Betamax, Phillips and the ultimate winner,VHS.
Even later in the 1970s and into the early 1980s personal computers such as the Vic20, C64, Atari, Apple and a myriad of others were making their appearance, starting off a format war far bigger than the video cassette wars. In this decade the first computers were making their way into schools but they were rare and seen as a gimmick by many.
Still to arrive was the Internet, Data Projectors, large class sized LED screens and apps and devices galore.
I write all this simply to show how much the tools used in education have changed over the years and I haven’t included the change from blackboards to white boards and then interactive white boards.
But all this leads to other questions: Has teaching improved? Have these tools made education a better experience? Have these tools enabled students to reach their potential?
A film can introduce a child to a new world of wonder. It can lead to questions, inquiry and further exploration. But it can also be used as a baby sitter and time waster. A printed sheet may sharpen a child’s maths or English skills or simply fill in some left-over minutes in a lesson. The same is true for a tablet and an app. At the heart of the tool’s effectiveness lies the competence and passion of the teacher. As a general rule I would suggest that a teacher with knowledge and passion, without these tools, is more effective than a teacher with these tools but without a deep knowledge of his or her teaching area and no enthusiasm for their craft. It is a roundabout way of saying that it is the teacher not the tools that sits at the heart of effective education.
Furthermore, it is the way we use these tools that carries with it another hidden layer of meaning. What are the values and attitudes that accompany them? What are we showing, living and implying to our students in the way we use these tools?
Are we reinforcing the pervasive and mind-numbing entertainment culture of our society? Are these fascinations available to us to while away the time and to titillate us or are we suggesting that these tools are there for us to explore the world, enhance our understanding and thereby serve God and our neighbour more effectively?
The way we teach and the way we use tools are laden with a subtext – for good or ill.
Has teaching changed over 50 years. I would suggest it has become even more complex, not simply because society is more complex, but our very teaching style can carry with it a sense of complicity with the values of our culture, or, in stark contrast, something far more radical – a critique of culture. Our teaching can reveal the good or ill of the tools we are using. It can encourage students to be, not just critical consumers, but more importantly, judicious and productive users of the tools at their disposal.
It was far simpler to practise one’s letters on a sand desk.
Today, I am sitting in a small office, possibly for the last time, interviewing families who wish to enroll their children in Kinder and Foundation for 2023. Family by family they come in and tell me about their desires for their children. These children are bright eyed buttons, some shy, others exuberant and a few just cautious. “What does this old man with a grey beard want?” they seem to think.
It struck me that when these children are my age it will be at the eve of this century – around 2093. And I can’t help but ask so many silent questions: what will the world be like, what will these lives have experienced, will these children have faith, what will have happened to the great issues of our day like climate change, refugees and war, what will be their hopes for their children and grandchildren? The questions mount but the answers lie buried in a future of uncertainty.
But there is good news. The good news is the reason why I am interviewing at a Christian School. There is a God, the God, who knows the future and will not be defeated by the foolishness of humanity. There is hope. A hope that lies outside our own wills and ability and in the person of Jesus Christ who came to seek and save the lost.
When I was 5, my great grandfather was in his 80s. He had been born in about 1870. He grew up to see a new century, WW1, the Great Depression and WW2. Despite all that, his hope in a faithful God was passed onto his son, his son’s son and his son’s son’s son (me). None of the circumstances that he experienced dissuaded him from the truth of God’s Word. I pray that this will be true for these young bright-eyed children who have blessed my day.
The modern world has become even more confusing than ever before. Innately, as post-moderns, we create our own meaning and discover our own “truths” so that we can be “authentic”. However, it is increasingly clear that some people’s “truths” trump others. It is ok for a biological male to identify as a woman, or anywhere in between for that matter, but clearly it is not socially acceptable for a conservative Christian to hold a view that biology and gender are connected.
The result is that we end up with an attempt at “inclusivity” that clearly excludes some. The story of the “Pride Jersey” in the recent Rugby League debacle shows that “inclusivity “can only go so far. For the South Sea islanders of faith, it is clear they couldn’t be included. We can add: so much for “celebrating diversity” as well – another popular mantra.
As a result of this confused, self-centred and self-authenticated thinking which, incidentally, needs the approval of other like-minded people, we have, ironically, excluded others and failed to acknowledge their unique views shaped by faith. In this Brave New World we all need to think the same as those who have shaped the latest views on gender and sexuality. By the way, there are so many other dimensions to our humanity than just sexuality, but it seems that our sexuality is vastly more important than any other facet of our multi-dimensional humanity.
So my question is simple: Why do I have to think the same as others to be socially approved? I can’t stop a woman thinking that she is a man, but why do I have to agree? My approval or disapproval will not make a whit of difference. It seems we are headed for a social dictatorship where the views of the majority will be imposed on the minority. Is this just?
Today is the 28th anniversary of my father’s death (July 14th) and as anniversaries often do, it caused me to reflect on the influence of my father – especially as I am a couple of years away from the age at which he died.
Dad and his violin
My Dad wasn’t perfect. A tradition I have faithfully carried on. He had a quick temper and could be stubborn. Traits that I dutifully learned as a young boy. But there are many qualities that I should have learned but was slow to grasp. He was a generous man: generous with his time, possessions and the little money he had. He was a man who took a keen interest in people’s lives and tried to help them as best he could.
Maarten, my Dad, was uneducated and this was largely due to the time in which he grew up – in the midst of economic depression, and later, war. But he was intelligent and astute. He saw through pomposity and bravado. On the other hand, he saw the best in people. When I might have been dismissive of someone, he would respond and tell me I didn’t understand the hardship and trials that this person had been through and which had, in turn, shaped their lives and attitudes.
He had that sense of responsibility that characterised many of his generation. Responsibility towards his family, his church, his customers and neighbours.
Also, he had a wicked sense of humour, liked a glass of wine or a cold beer on a blistering hot Aussie day, and loved his music – particularly Bach.
Looking back, I give thanks to God for having this dad as my father. He encouraged, at times bullied, me into making the most of my learning – one that he never had the opportunity to experience. He passed on beliefs and values for which I will be eternally grateful.
Twenty-eight years dead but still very much alive!
The recent Australian census results have revealed that fewer Australians than ever before have stated that they are religious. How should the Christian Church take that message? A slap in the face? A challenge? A cause for reflection? A sign of the times?
Probably all of these.
The church has been “on the nose” for a while. Abuse of children, high-profile pastors abusing their position and other bad press have all been on a steadily growing the list of Christless behaviour.
However, in all this, we should not lose sight of the faithful adherence to the gospel and its calling by many who have quietly, worshipped God, cared for, served and loved their neighbour as an outworking of their faith in Christ – people who have faithfully served and loved despite the appalling behaviour of some.
However, that doesn’t mean there is not much to repent of and seek forgiveness for.
For many decades, if not centuries, church adherence has been tribal. As Michael Jensen pointed out in a recent article (https://tinyurl.com/y93hc8pa) different tribes belonged to different churches. Scots were Presbyterian, and Irish, Catholic and so on. This demise is not something to cry about. It was too often more about a culture and ethnicity, than Christ. Today we see something similar in the US with belief and politics morphed in a very unholy collaboration. A return to a church that is fundamentally anchored in Scripture is to be encouraged and applauded.
Also, Barny Zwartz points out in The Age,(July 10th) ( https://tinyurl.com/4rnuxjww ) “We don’t yet have full figures for the 2021 Census, but in 2011, when 6 million Australians claimed no religion, only 59,000 identified as atheists. There were more Jedi knights.” The point is that people are reluctant to disavow a belief in the existence of a higher being yet they have, as Michael Jensen points out, opted out of the club the family may have belonged to in the past.
Zwartz also compares the census data with the National Church Life Survey, “Research by the National Church Life Survey shows that by far the most hostility to Christianity comes from people aged 50 to 65 – as director Dr Ruth Powell observes, the people who hold the microphones right now. NCLS research suggests that only 21 percent of Australians go to church at least once a month – but that figure rises to 32 percent among 18 to 35-year-olds.” There are points of light and hope in these figures.
The census is, however, a cause for reflection. What does it mean to be church in C21st Australia? How do we reflect Christ and His Kingdom in a winsome way? How do we represent God and the gospel in a way that encourages Australians to think beyond the tribal connections of the past and to reflect on the true meaning of life in a way that honours the God of eternity? Also, how do we repent genuinely, for the poor behaviour of the few who have dishonoured the name of Christ so publicly, while acknowledging humbly that none of us live as Christ calls us to live?
This is a challenge. How do we convince people they are spiritual beings with a soul as well as a body and that in this life, and the next, there is a God who desires the best for them and calls them into a relationship with Him?
Memories are enigmatic. Fact and memory are not necessarily identical. Are the memories real or constructed? Are they made from genuine moments or reconstructed by photos and family tales? Where, exactly, does the truth sit? Or when it comes to the past is truth only relative anyway?
My earliest memory centres on a wooden leg standing in corner of a darkened bedroom. Only many years later when I asked my mother about it did she tell me that it belonged to a great grandfather, and I had seen it when we visited him. I must have been about two and a half at the time and the disembodied leg has been etched in my memory ever since. Other memories from that time include hiding under a desk which had drawers on either side and feeling secure while the adults talked. Taking a lolly(sweet) from behind the counter at the barber’s is another. A warm recollection involves being held and cuddled by an Aunty and my bare foot exploring her coat pocket as she always had a treat for her one and only nephew. There are vague recollections too of the trip to Australia on the Johan van Oldenbarnevelt.
On board the Johan van Oldenbarnevelt
By the time I emigrated to Australia I was three and a half. This life changing event only holds vague and, on the whole, unreliable memories. There was a model of a ship floating in a barrel. My parents couldn’t substantiate that one. There was also an overall sense of sadness. Not, I think, from leaving Holland but rather from the separation on the boat from my parents for long periods of time. I am told that I was sent to a crèche and that I didn’t like being with crying younger children. One clear image is standing on a lower deck and seeing my parents on the deck above – that memory is always associated with a severe heartache.
My memories take on a firmness (whether true or not!) after our arrival in Australia. All the recollections of the Anderson family at “The Hill” in Mepunga West: Ola, Beth, Old Mrs Anderson and the rest of the multi personalitied clan, represent a tangled ball of wool in which times and events are, after 65 years, impossible to disentangle. The overwhelming emotions, however, are one of joy and security. Even if I wasn’t fully aware of having left a family behind I was now truly embraced by a new one. The main characters in this experience have all passed on but they are still solidly secure in my head and heart.
“Helping” with the milking, feeding hay to the herd and taking the full milk cans to the depot near Smith’s Post Office and telephone exchange (a room at the back of another farmhouse) and the glorious spread of the afternoon tea before the second milking are all memory-videos that I can replay in my mind without hesitation.
After a few months at the Anderson’s we moved to a house in Allansford opposite the Post Office.
The warning my father gave me about not entering the shed was crystal clear. Many years later I found out that there was a water storage under the shed but floor of the shed floor had become rotten over time and one could fall through the floor and drown.
I had two Uncles who had arrived two years earlier and had been welcomed by the Anderson family. One of these, Adrian, built me a cart.
A clear evocation is walking to the depot (a truck-tray height platform where farmers brought their milk cans every morning and evening) and hanging a billy(milk can) can on one of a series of nails alongside the platform and then picking up a billycan of fresh milk later in the day. The depot was a little way along the highway out of town. I am sure that my mother would have come with me but all I can recall is walking with the billy-can along the side of the road.
Christopher Ingles’ parents owned the local general store just a few metres from our house. Fortunately for me they were kindly people who communicated with my parents. I learned an important life lesson in this store which was that you needed to pay for things in a shop. You couldn’t just walk in and get stuff!
At The Hill, Mepunga West
I hadn’t started school yet and my mother had visions of me riding a horse to school. Mum got these visions from some of the films the authorities had shown prospective migrants about Australia. The only problem was that the school was 150 metres away – or should I say “yards” as this was predecimal Australia. In any case it didn’t matter as we moved to Ocean Grove before I started school.
These are some of my earliest memories. Just thinking about them brings an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. People’s faces flash past my eyes. Places and events parade in my mind. Real, partly real or imagined – to me, they live on.
“Bullies and Saints” tackles the ticklish question of the role of the Christian faith throughout the last two millennia. The subtitle of the book is: “An honest look at the good and evil of Christian history.” It tackles the accusation often made by atheists and others that the world would have been better off without the Christian faith. Which is a thought that has possibly crossed many of our minds. Religious wars, the Inquisition, and more recently the atrocious abuse of innocent children by clergy has all, understandably, fuelled the fire of antipathy towards the Christian faith.
Dickson, as a trained historian and theologian, carefully combs through the history of the church and sorts fact from fiction. With meticulous detail goes through many historical events. He openly acknowledges that which is evil, without excuse, but also highlights the many good things that Christianity has given to the world.
An interesting tack that he takes is that he also looks at “atheist” history and reveals the enormous atrocities perpetrated by unbelieving rulers such as Hitler, Stalin and Pol Pot, that causes any “Christian” barbarism to pale into the background. Dickson also clarifies inaccurate historical perceptions. For example in the historical imagination “The Inquisition” was one of the great historical evils. The fact is that over the 350 years of the Inquisition fewer than 5000 people died. Not that this is excusable but the truth is often vastly inflated. Fascinatingly, it was probably the Protestants and their propaganda against the Roman church that was largely responsible for this inaccuracy.
One of the refreshing aspects of this book is the way he looks at the doctrine of the “Imago Dei” – the image of God in humankind – and reveals how this has impacted our understanding of the value of life. This doctrine has, for example, been central to the development of charities, public hospitals, the anti-slavery movement from the early years of the church and in turn, has been incorporated into modern civilised societies.
His chapter on child abuse within the church is short but pointed and he acknowledges that this dark stain has caused a huge mistrust of the church which will take time and effort to redress. He shows clearly how this is a betrayal of Christ and the gospel.
In the final chapter he points us back to Jesus Christ and the importance that Christians follow him in faith and action. He also adds, ironically, how some atheists now acknowledge the importance of the Christian ethic for healthy society to function.
This is a valuable book as it enables us to put Christian history into perspective. It will assist Christians in honest discussions with non-Christian friends and colleagues. It also reminds people of faith that our motives must always be guided by Christ and his word. Waver from that and all sorts of traps await.
Travels from Ur 