I saw something I will never forget: a cow stepping up to the counter in a street shop and being fed rooties by the shop owner, one by one, chewing them like chewing gum!
The cows lie in the middle of the road: a black and white cow on the black tar and white markings of the road in the heavy late afternoon traffic in Chennai - and everyone drove around it!
Then I also saw cows rummaging for something to eat among the rubbish piled up on the side of the road together with some threadbare stray dogs.
And baboons playing on the steps of the hotel - completely unafraid of people.
I saw mountains high, covered with tea plantations on either side, as far as you can drive with the car. Who on earth drinks so much tea? The English?
And I saw shrines everywhere on the most unexpected places - with priests waiting for your offering.
I saw every man with a white smear on his forehead.
What is that? I asked.
Cow's dung. The priest mixes it with ash and puts it on the forehead as a sign that the man visited the temple. They wear it with pride.
I saw an old man pick up cow's dung to take to the temple. Compensation from the priest, perhaps.
I saw moustaches that belong to the old colonial age on doorkeepers: the more prestigious the hotel, the larger the sergeant-major handle bar moustache!
I saw Mahatma Ghandi everywhere, statues, busts, head and shoulders, paintings, T-shirts, book covers, restaurants.
I saw the motorised riksha's and travelled in one with Yve, my daughter, who accompanied me on the mission to India.
We travelled by train through the night from Tirupur to Chennai and back again after a few days. The age old Indian train: fuller than full, curtain and bed affair, dirty toilets, or actually no toilets, just a hole in the floor!
And they sell curry on the train - like everywhere else.
But the curry we tasted was delicious, it was delicate, it was exquisite, it was divine and the different breads, the rooties, the parata's and the wonderful spices and sauces, the freshly squeezed juices ranging from watermelon to coconut, mango to melon, berry to grape fruit, paw-paw to banana the never ending freshness of fruit to tantalize the palate of the weary traveller.
And the congested cities, the ancient villages, the narrow mountain passes, the risky crossing of a street with hundreds of 50 cc mopeds charging at you!
And all the hooting - every car has a sing on the back - honk please! And they do and they communicate that way: it means, I'm coming through, it means, I am through, it means, thanks for letting me through! It means watch out! It means hello! It means there is another car coming! It means I am turning off now! It means goodbye! Hooty is a national language, to say the least.
And everyone plays cricket everywhere on each and every available space.
And the people are really friendly, everywhere, without expecting a tip or anything else in return. It is genuine friendliness.
And the tilting rolling heads from side to side meaning I agree, I agree! The more they like what you are saying the more the head rols from side to side.
I saw pilgrims, barefoot, carrying heavy idols as punishment, travelling alone or in groups until they reach the temple where they will pay their vows.
I saw signs saying 'Bollywood movies are shot here'.
I saw sunsets sublime, sunrises like an artist's palate, I saw the sun reflect on a lake, I saw the moon from our window, I saw colourful sahri's, dohties, and I saw innocent children run free; I saw great poverty and I saw great wealth; I saw streetsweepers accepting their role in this life graciously and I saw proud businessment swaggering into hotel lobbies; I saw faces that will remained engraved on my memory stick forever, with wrinkles and lines and piercing eyes that burn into you telling you what has taken place for thousands of years in a moment's glance...
Ah, India, a land of mystery and a land of beauty, a land of contrasts and a land of deep sorrow, yet silent joy.
Will I go again? Who knows. I hope I will. India is Incredible.
Saturday, 27 February 2010
Wednesday, 20 January 2010
The Script for the New Year
Here we go again!
The New Year has begun. It is 2010. Things have increased with a speed, as Nola says.
When you take a horse out of the stable it is sluggish and you have to spur it on to go on a trot. But when you have reached the end of your excursion and turns its nose around to go home it suddenly receives renewed energy to get back to the stable!
Amazing how the finishing tape spurs runners on to put in their best effort.
We tend to slow down at the end of a year and to pick up speed at the start, don't we. We need to learn how to pace ourselves. We need to know our own rhythms. We cannot keep track of other people and what they are doing.
We cannot run the race of faith without patience. Patience is the stabilizing force that keeps faith upright. Telephone poles used to have strong iron cables to keep them upright. Today they seem to stand on their own, but they do have some kind of re-inforcement.
Let us look on the bright side of life as we start out. There is someone up there watching over us.
I watched Paul Newman many years ago playing Rocky Marciano in a black and white movie that also had a cameo role for Steve McQueen. It is a kind of feel good movie. You feel a few feet taller when you walk out of the cinema. Then I saw Zabriskie Point and felt horrible when I walked out: there was something that made you feel like destroying property. Movies have a great effect on life. So does TV. But the most important visual imagery should be on the inside. The movie you have of yourself.
Each one of us has a movie. We play the starring role. We recollect things that happened to us and we tend to settle with the image projected about us by others. But deep thought and accurate words about ourselves can actually change the movie script. We have an amazing ability to write our own script. We can choose the scenes. It is a divine ability. We can help others to create a better movie for their lives by speaking encouraging words to them and by building them up rather than breaking them down.
We have to learn to ignore and spit out all the negative information we receive from those who mean us harm. Just like a computer security is set to remove all the spam mail and all the junk mail without any effort, so we have to build a positive stronghold of faith within ourselves to cope with all the curve balls life throws at us. We need to be able to handle all the unfair criticism, all the jealousy and envy, all the hatred and all the pain.
We overcome by faith and faith works by love. To love is to be patient and kind and show goodness and mercy to others. You are patient with the one you love. You speak kindly to those you love.
God is patient with us. He is longsuffering towards us. He waits for us to understand His lovingkindness. He does not reject us when we make mistakes. He does not treat us according to what we deserve. His goodness leads us to repentance. He could have been severe but instead he reveals his love to us. That amazes us. We sing 'Amazing grace how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me, I once was lost but now I'm found, I was blind but now I see' with the songwriter who was a slave trader and experienced God's mercy when they faced a storm on the high seas that threatened to destroy their vessel. When they made it safely to the shore, he wrote the song that describes all our experiences outside of God's love and care.
When we begin to rewrite our own movie script of how we see ourselves in the light of God's love we see the picture changing before our very eyes! And then we can love others because we have experienced God's love.
May the New Year bring the desired changes in all of us to the betterment of others and to the greater glory of God, as Mike Wood, my Aussie buddy likes to say.
The New Year has begun. It is 2010. Things have increased with a speed, as Nola says.
When you take a horse out of the stable it is sluggish and you have to spur it on to go on a trot. But when you have reached the end of your excursion and turns its nose around to go home it suddenly receives renewed energy to get back to the stable!
Amazing how the finishing tape spurs runners on to put in their best effort.
We tend to slow down at the end of a year and to pick up speed at the start, don't we. We need to learn how to pace ourselves. We need to know our own rhythms. We cannot keep track of other people and what they are doing.
We cannot run the race of faith without patience. Patience is the stabilizing force that keeps faith upright. Telephone poles used to have strong iron cables to keep them upright. Today they seem to stand on their own, but they do have some kind of re-inforcement.
Let us look on the bright side of life as we start out. There is someone up there watching over us.
I watched Paul Newman many years ago playing Rocky Marciano in a black and white movie that also had a cameo role for Steve McQueen. It is a kind of feel good movie. You feel a few feet taller when you walk out of the cinema. Then I saw Zabriskie Point and felt horrible when I walked out: there was something that made you feel like destroying property. Movies have a great effect on life. So does TV. But the most important visual imagery should be on the inside. The movie you have of yourself.
Each one of us has a movie. We play the starring role. We recollect things that happened to us and we tend to settle with the image projected about us by others. But deep thought and accurate words about ourselves can actually change the movie script. We have an amazing ability to write our own script. We can choose the scenes. It is a divine ability. We can help others to create a better movie for their lives by speaking encouraging words to them and by building them up rather than breaking them down.
We have to learn to ignore and spit out all the negative information we receive from those who mean us harm. Just like a computer security is set to remove all the spam mail and all the junk mail without any effort, so we have to build a positive stronghold of faith within ourselves to cope with all the curve balls life throws at us. We need to be able to handle all the unfair criticism, all the jealousy and envy, all the hatred and all the pain.
We overcome by faith and faith works by love. To love is to be patient and kind and show goodness and mercy to others. You are patient with the one you love. You speak kindly to those you love.
God is patient with us. He is longsuffering towards us. He waits for us to understand His lovingkindness. He does not reject us when we make mistakes. He does not treat us according to what we deserve. His goodness leads us to repentance. He could have been severe but instead he reveals his love to us. That amazes us. We sing 'Amazing grace how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me, I once was lost but now I'm found, I was blind but now I see' with the songwriter who was a slave trader and experienced God's mercy when they faced a storm on the high seas that threatened to destroy their vessel. When they made it safely to the shore, he wrote the song that describes all our experiences outside of God's love and care.
When we begin to rewrite our own movie script of how we see ourselves in the light of God's love we see the picture changing before our very eyes! And then we can love others because we have experienced God's love.
May the New Year bring the desired changes in all of us to the betterment of others and to the greater glory of God, as Mike Wood, my Aussie buddy likes to say.
Friday, 25 December 2009
Imagine a world without Christmas
For many years we did not celebrate Christmas just to break the hold of the religious traditions on our lives: forced to give presents no one really appreciates, forced to buy a Christmas tree and decoration, with a star at the top or an angel dangling dangerously until its fall to the earth eventually when one of the grandchildren run into the tree; the endless Christmas Carols all sounding the same every year; the pageants in the church hall with actors cloted in pyjamas and bath robes and towels around their heads, the girls fighting about who should play Mary this year, the baby doll Jessu with the stark eyes staring into space; the cardboard donkeys and the wise men who do not understand a thing about astronomy; the shepherds who never know where to kneel and the angels on the staircase anouncing peace on earth and goodwill among men until we hear the news on TV again; the well wishing and the forced joyous celebration, tapping every ounce of religious experience out of every Christmas service; the endless choirs robed like angels, sweating in the African heat, the silent unspoken wish for a white Christmas in South Africa; the old folks that wear Santa Claus outfits in the summer heat; the bells of reindeer, the smells of the roast; the Jews and Muslims making a killing out of the Christian spending, coming up with novel Christmas gifts every year and the record producers who force their stars to make yet another Christmas Album for profits sake, Amen.
Enough already...the pagan practices of the tree and other decorations, mixed with the consumer magic of Father Christmas in the shopping centre, the Christian faith that Jesus was born from a virgin, the National Geographic and History channels on TV trying their utmost to disprove the fact with all their theories and scientific nonsense...
But after all said and done, imagine a world without Christmas...at least people thinki about Christ once a year. No, maybe twice. The other time would be at Easter.
So a baby Jesus and a suffering Saviour on the Cross is non-threatening to all the other religions of the world and even atheists and agnostics put up with it.
In a sense, Nola, my wife is right: Christmas and Easter are the final Christian outposts in a world gone crazy.
There is always a movie on TV about the Nazi's and the British not fighting in the trenches on Christmas day, but having a game of football and sharing their chocolate bars and cigarettes and hidden whiskey with each other...just for a day. Tomorrow we kill each other again!
Christmas being one of the last Christian bastions, we need to reform our thinking about it and at least compose a few fresh Christmas Carols of our own that would really be a joy to all the world. I'm dreaming of a white Christmas is after all not a hymn to sing in church!
So, we changed our approach and held our first ever Christmas service in our reformational church in Cape Town again in 2009.
It was wonderful - because of our long lay off we have shed all the unnecessary religious trappings of tradition and discovered uniquely fresh reasons to celebrate the miraculous birth of the Son of God.
As a friend of mine indicated: He left no tangilbe evidence behind once He left the earth, but He left us His Name. Joseoph and Mary's obedience to call Him Jesus like the Angel instructed them to do, ushered His name into the earth so that we who believe could use that Name in prayer - and not like Hollywood only in swearing and cursing because they try to discredit that wonderful name...
Christ was born in Bethlehem, in Judea, yes, 2000 years ago, and it is good to remember it, but when someone accepts Christ's sacrifice for their sins, and He becomes their Lord and Saviour, they are born again, or Christ is born in them and thus we celebrate the birth of Christ all over again!
Nola sang a new Christmas hymn in a prophetic way and we'll have to listen to the CD to learn it for next year! It was glorious and powerful and we soared in the spirit like eagles on the upwards drafts of heatwaves, lifting us higher and higher until we lost touch with earthly ways of celebrating Christmas. It was a whole new experience!
I preached about Paul's message to the Galatians: my little children for whom I labour again to see Christ formed in you...an apostolic take on the Christmas story!
(It should all be on our website soon: www.harvesterchurch.net)
And there was great joy in our dancing while we worshipped - and we celebrated the joy of knowing Jesus Christ and having fellowship with each other as children of the Living God. The peace we experienced passed our understanding because we were made right with God through faith in Jesus Christ's sacrifice on the cross of Calvary! What a joyous Gospel! What a way to celebrate Christmas - His Name is our greatest gift that we can still share with each other today!
Merry Christmas to all who read this blog, then, and a happy New Year to you all - from a different perspective, I hope.
I really couldn't imagine a world without Christmas...when that happens, when they take away Christmas from the calender, it is time to leave the earth and look for the new heaven and the new earth Jesus promised to go and prepare for those who love Him and look for His return.
Enough already...the pagan practices of the tree and other decorations, mixed with the consumer magic of Father Christmas in the shopping centre, the Christian faith that Jesus was born from a virgin, the National Geographic and History channels on TV trying their utmost to disprove the fact with all their theories and scientific nonsense...
But after all said and done, imagine a world without Christmas...at least people thinki about Christ once a year. No, maybe twice. The other time would be at Easter.
So a baby Jesus and a suffering Saviour on the Cross is non-threatening to all the other religions of the world and even atheists and agnostics put up with it.
In a sense, Nola, my wife is right: Christmas and Easter are the final Christian outposts in a world gone crazy.
There is always a movie on TV about the Nazi's and the British not fighting in the trenches on Christmas day, but having a game of football and sharing their chocolate bars and cigarettes and hidden whiskey with each other...just for a day. Tomorrow we kill each other again!
Christmas being one of the last Christian bastions, we need to reform our thinking about it and at least compose a few fresh Christmas Carols of our own that would really be a joy to all the world. I'm dreaming of a white Christmas is after all not a hymn to sing in church!
So, we changed our approach and held our first ever Christmas service in our reformational church in Cape Town again in 2009.
It was wonderful - because of our long lay off we have shed all the unnecessary religious trappings of tradition and discovered uniquely fresh reasons to celebrate the miraculous birth of the Son of God.
As a friend of mine indicated: He left no tangilbe evidence behind once He left the earth, but He left us His Name. Joseoph and Mary's obedience to call Him Jesus like the Angel instructed them to do, ushered His name into the earth so that we who believe could use that Name in prayer - and not like Hollywood only in swearing and cursing because they try to discredit that wonderful name...
Christ was born in Bethlehem, in Judea, yes, 2000 years ago, and it is good to remember it, but when someone accepts Christ's sacrifice for their sins, and He becomes their Lord and Saviour, they are born again, or Christ is born in them and thus we celebrate the birth of Christ all over again!
Nola sang a new Christmas hymn in a prophetic way and we'll have to listen to the CD to learn it for next year! It was glorious and powerful and we soared in the spirit like eagles on the upwards drafts of heatwaves, lifting us higher and higher until we lost touch with earthly ways of celebrating Christmas. It was a whole new experience!
I preached about Paul's message to the Galatians: my little children for whom I labour again to see Christ formed in you...an apostolic take on the Christmas story!
(It should all be on our website soon: www.harvesterchurch.net)
And there was great joy in our dancing while we worshipped - and we celebrated the joy of knowing Jesus Christ and having fellowship with each other as children of the Living God. The peace we experienced passed our understanding because we were made right with God through faith in Jesus Christ's sacrifice on the cross of Calvary! What a joyous Gospel! What a way to celebrate Christmas - His Name is our greatest gift that we can still share with each other today!
Merry Christmas to all who read this blog, then, and a happy New Year to you all - from a different perspective, I hope.
I really couldn't imagine a world without Christmas...when that happens, when they take away Christmas from the calender, it is time to leave the earth and look for the new heaven and the new earth Jesus promised to go and prepare for those who love Him and look for His return.
Friday, 23 October 2009
Crown the Year
I preached a sermon from Psalm 65:11 about the Lord crowning the year with His goodness and making His paths full of abundance, literally drip fatness!
When the end of the year is in sight, we want to slow down, fade out and begin to bail out. But like a good athlete we have to learn to run through the tape and not to slow down before the finish line. Many athletes could have broken world records if they had not slowed down. Let us learn to finish what we started with gusto, with the same energy and enthusiasm as we began. Let us put in the extra effort when we feel we can almost give up. That is where it counts.
Paul the apostle once said to a young disciple called Timothy, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith and now there is a crown of righteousness awaiting me!
As a young boy I was quite and athlete: I normally came first at school and at inter-school sprints. I came 3rd in the entire West Rand Primary School Area, which made me an easy choice for right wing in West Rand Primary School rugby team. It was easy to run away from the opponents who wanted to tackle me and dive over in the corner for a try!
My dad accepted a pastorate on the East Rand by the time I was at high school and I had my tonsils removed. I had also shot up and became somewhat clumsy (something I still haven't recovered from fully!)When I attempted to run durint the trials I came 5th. It was a schock to my system. I remember how I hated sitting on the grand stand watching all the other athletes compete. It felt like I didn't belong there. By Standard 9 I trained hard and became the leading 110 metres hurdler at the Cape School where I finished my matric. Because I skipped a year of school by completing two years in one, I was a bit young, 15 in matric competing against U/19's. But I won anyway.
In the final race the athlete in the lane next to me jabbed my foot with his spikes as we went over the second hurdle. He lost balance but kept on running; I hit the dirt nose first and felt like begging the earth to please swallow me up! But something inside of me urged me to get up and to finish the race. I hardly hit the ground or I was up and running. I caught up with the rest of the athletes and passed most of them. I came second - it was an amazing feeling. My nose, hands and knees were bleeding, but standing on the winner's podium was an amazing sense of achievement and personal satisfaction.
Sometimes we have to go through some things in a year that makes us stumble, fall, get hurt and panic; but the word today is to get up and go on: the race is not over. Run until you run through the finishing tape. Do not stay down. Do not be discouraged. Your year will be crowned with goodness. There is still hope, there is still a victor's crown awaiting you.
Put your faith in the Lord who will crown your year with goodness!
When the end of the year is in sight, we want to slow down, fade out and begin to bail out. But like a good athlete we have to learn to run through the tape and not to slow down before the finish line. Many athletes could have broken world records if they had not slowed down. Let us learn to finish what we started with gusto, with the same energy and enthusiasm as we began. Let us put in the extra effort when we feel we can almost give up. That is where it counts.
Paul the apostle once said to a young disciple called Timothy, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith and now there is a crown of righteousness awaiting me!
As a young boy I was quite and athlete: I normally came first at school and at inter-school sprints. I came 3rd in the entire West Rand Primary School Area, which made me an easy choice for right wing in West Rand Primary School rugby team. It was easy to run away from the opponents who wanted to tackle me and dive over in the corner for a try!
My dad accepted a pastorate on the East Rand by the time I was at high school and I had my tonsils removed. I had also shot up and became somewhat clumsy (something I still haven't recovered from fully!)When I attempted to run durint the trials I came 5th. It was a schock to my system. I remember how I hated sitting on the grand stand watching all the other athletes compete. It felt like I didn't belong there. By Standard 9 I trained hard and became the leading 110 metres hurdler at the Cape School where I finished my matric. Because I skipped a year of school by completing two years in one, I was a bit young, 15 in matric competing against U/19's. But I won anyway.
In the final race the athlete in the lane next to me jabbed my foot with his spikes as we went over the second hurdle. He lost balance but kept on running; I hit the dirt nose first and felt like begging the earth to please swallow me up! But something inside of me urged me to get up and to finish the race. I hardly hit the ground or I was up and running. I caught up with the rest of the athletes and passed most of them. I came second - it was an amazing feeling. My nose, hands and knees were bleeding, but standing on the winner's podium was an amazing sense of achievement and personal satisfaction.
Sometimes we have to go through some things in a year that makes us stumble, fall, get hurt and panic; but the word today is to get up and go on: the race is not over. Run until you run through the finishing tape. Do not stay down. Do not be discouraged. Your year will be crowned with goodness. There is still hope, there is still a victor's crown awaiting you.
Put your faith in the Lord who will crown your year with goodness!
Friday, 2 October 2009
David's Heroes
We all saw Kelly's Heroes in the late 60's that made movie stars out of Donald Sutherland and Kelly Savallas with their wacky portrayal of soldiers hunting gold rather than glory with the eventual shoot out between a youthful Clint Eastwood and a German Pantzer tank!
But there are a few heroes whose names are not even important that became David's greatest heroes in his army. He had men who killed giants just like he did when he slew Goliath and then he had men who fought until the sword cleaved to their hand, but the greatest three were of a special kind.
One day David simply sighed in remembrance of the water from the well of Bethlehem where he grew up as a boy. He longed for a drink from that well. But Bethelehem had fallen into the hands of the Philistines and there was no way that he could get hold of that water.
But three of his soldiers heard the expression of his desire and decided to risk their lives to fetch that water for their leader. They set off and fought their way through the garrison of the enemy and fetched a pale of water for David.
When they brought the water to him, David was astonished at their act of bravery.
'I can't drink this water1' he exclaimed and explained why he said that: 'this water is the blood of these men!' Then he poured the water he so much desired out on the ground as a drink offering before the Lord his God.
What a lesson of servanthood. This act of theirs got them promoted above all the other great warriors to be called the greates three of them all. What qualified them? They were not commanded to risk their lives, they were not even sent: they simply heard the heart of their leader and decided to fulfil his wish.
Reinhardt Bonnke the German Evangelist that has shaken Africa once said that Jesus's desire is souls and therefore he will go he does not need to be commanded to win souls for Jesus.
I am a sent one to other lands and I often go because I hear the desire of the Lord that said, Go into the all the world and preach the Gospel and make disciples.
About a month ago we had our monthly Band of Brothers meeting in our church and I simply mentioned: 'wouldn't it be great to have my life long friend Mike Wood and his wife Mary at our summit this year?' Nobody said anything. An hour after the meeting I got a phone call from one of the men that informed me that they had decided to bring Mike and Mary all the way from Australia and pay for their tickets!
It made my eyes shoot full of tears.
Mike had been one of my mentors throughout my life and I owe a lot to him. I am in no position to pay his air ticket, let alone his wife's. But the Band of Brothers clubbed together and raised the funds to purchase the air tickets.
We have just returned from the summit where many of my friends from other parts of the world attended; Graham from Birmingham, Jako from Houston, Duncan and Bev from Sowerby Bridge and Alaster and Simba from Zimbabwe, besides all my friends in church and from Johannesburg and Pretoria. What a glorious time we had in the presence of God - we even went on for an extra day! Words cannot describe what we experienced - and it was all because of a few guys who heard my heart's desire and acted on it on their own expense to bring it to pass! They are heroes of Harvester, this Band of borthers! God bless them.
Heroes are close enough to their leader to hear his heart and to know his desire. It means more to do what someone really wants than to server them with what you think they want!
But there are a few heroes whose names are not even important that became David's greatest heroes in his army. He had men who killed giants just like he did when he slew Goliath and then he had men who fought until the sword cleaved to their hand, but the greatest three were of a special kind.
One day David simply sighed in remembrance of the water from the well of Bethlehem where he grew up as a boy. He longed for a drink from that well. But Bethelehem had fallen into the hands of the Philistines and there was no way that he could get hold of that water.
But three of his soldiers heard the expression of his desire and decided to risk their lives to fetch that water for their leader. They set off and fought their way through the garrison of the enemy and fetched a pale of water for David.
When they brought the water to him, David was astonished at their act of bravery.
'I can't drink this water1' he exclaimed and explained why he said that: 'this water is the blood of these men!' Then he poured the water he so much desired out on the ground as a drink offering before the Lord his God.
What a lesson of servanthood. This act of theirs got them promoted above all the other great warriors to be called the greates three of them all. What qualified them? They were not commanded to risk their lives, they were not even sent: they simply heard the heart of their leader and decided to fulfil his wish.
Reinhardt Bonnke the German Evangelist that has shaken Africa once said that Jesus's desire is souls and therefore he will go he does not need to be commanded to win souls for Jesus.
I am a sent one to other lands and I often go because I hear the desire of the Lord that said, Go into the all the world and preach the Gospel and make disciples.
About a month ago we had our monthly Band of Brothers meeting in our church and I simply mentioned: 'wouldn't it be great to have my life long friend Mike Wood and his wife Mary at our summit this year?' Nobody said anything. An hour after the meeting I got a phone call from one of the men that informed me that they had decided to bring Mike and Mary all the way from Australia and pay for their tickets!
It made my eyes shoot full of tears.
Mike had been one of my mentors throughout my life and I owe a lot to him. I am in no position to pay his air ticket, let alone his wife's. But the Band of Brothers clubbed together and raised the funds to purchase the air tickets.
We have just returned from the summit where many of my friends from other parts of the world attended; Graham from Birmingham, Jako from Houston, Duncan and Bev from Sowerby Bridge and Alaster and Simba from Zimbabwe, besides all my friends in church and from Johannesburg and Pretoria. What a glorious time we had in the presence of God - we even went on for an extra day! Words cannot describe what we experienced - and it was all because of a few guys who heard my heart's desire and acted on it on their own expense to bring it to pass! They are heroes of Harvester, this Band of borthers! God bless them.
Heroes are close enough to their leader to hear his heart and to know his desire. It means more to do what someone really wants than to server them with what you think they want!
Friday, 18 September 2009
9/11
9/11 Remembered…
By Andre Pelser
(Based on some notes I made in my dairy taken from the Washington Trade Post)
Hundreds of small fires were burning everywhere…
Rescue workers were walking knee-deep in the ashes of the Hellscape…
The global prestige, the wealth towers crumbled to the ground and buried thousands of people near a fountain where the inscription read, ‘The Triumph of the Human Spirit’.
In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, the world turned black. Human shock caused people to jump from the skyscrapers, desperate beyond comprehension, 100 storeys high. The voice of a little girl rang out among the cacophony of other sounds, ‘Look Mommy!’ as she pointed to the figures plunging downward.
The sky scrapers served as chimneys as the floors collapsed. They resembled smouldering cigarettes from the Long Island Express Way. Most of the highly compensated labourers in the world worked in those towers.
Jet-A standard aviation fuel produces 1500 degrees Fahrenheit. The explosion of the Jet Planes, at impact, caused the excessive heat to melt the metal, brick and glass…the heat was too unbearable for anyone to survive.
Dave Wilkerson prophesied it would happen…ten years ago. He said the bodies of people would evaporate…no one believed him and called him a false prophet of doom. He said the wickedness of drug addicted traders who play with the fortunes of others will be judged severely. He said New York will be shocked. He said the Trade Towers would be removed…
A mile away people sat idle in parks, drinking Salvation Army grape juice…
A few hundred yards away the children’s play ground stood untouched near the river terrace. Daisies grew tall in bright sunlight and the hippopotamus statues had no dust on them at all. Song birds chirped in the bushes.
A commodities trader that saw how the second jet struck Tower Two ran to his computer to buy gold shares. He watched the price shoot up to $280 an ounce! Minutes later the exchange shut down. Business and Trade had come to a sudden halt. The Twin Towers of the World Trade Centre, erected in 1973 no longer existed….Babylon had fallen…businessmen cried because no one could do business there anymore.
In a movie theatre across the street from the World Trade Centre, the film ‘Ghost World’ was still being screened.
I turned 50 on that fateful day and cried most of the afternoon and evening…because
I was there in 1973 when these buildings were erected…I was there in New York, living in an apartment in 89th Street East, with my Puerto Rican friend, Victor Ferrer, who gave me his leather Bible cover for my Thomson’s Chain Reference Bible. His Mom thought she looked like Marilyn Monroe with her blond dyed hair.
I visited the United Nations building, the Twin Towers and the Statue of Liberty and have some pics to prove it! We climbed up and up in Lady Liberty’ s stairs right up to her crown from where we viewed New York from a completely different angle. We went up into the Empire State building. But the Twin Trade Towers were an enigma to us: why build such tall towers?
JFK said, ‘people ask why go to the moon? I say, why not!’
When I look at my faded photo’s in my album, I wonder about a lot of things. I also wonder why 9/11 happened on my 50th birth day. What is the significance for me? Eleventh of September will never again be the same for me. Every year they remember those who died in that cowardly act of those Muslim militant extremists who high-jacked the American planes and flew them into the Trade Towers and other targets.
The world will never be the same after that – I knew that much. Things have changed, for ever! I wonder what actually changed in me.
By Andre Pelser
(Based on some notes I made in my dairy taken from the Washington Trade Post)
Hundreds of small fires were burning everywhere…
Rescue workers were walking knee-deep in the ashes of the Hellscape…
The global prestige, the wealth towers crumbled to the ground and buried thousands of people near a fountain where the inscription read, ‘The Triumph of the Human Spirit’.
In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, the world turned black. Human shock caused people to jump from the skyscrapers, desperate beyond comprehension, 100 storeys high. The voice of a little girl rang out among the cacophony of other sounds, ‘Look Mommy!’ as she pointed to the figures plunging downward.
The sky scrapers served as chimneys as the floors collapsed. They resembled smouldering cigarettes from the Long Island Express Way. Most of the highly compensated labourers in the world worked in those towers.
Jet-A standard aviation fuel produces 1500 degrees Fahrenheit. The explosion of the Jet Planes, at impact, caused the excessive heat to melt the metal, brick and glass…the heat was too unbearable for anyone to survive.
Dave Wilkerson prophesied it would happen…ten years ago. He said the bodies of people would evaporate…no one believed him and called him a false prophet of doom. He said the wickedness of drug addicted traders who play with the fortunes of others will be judged severely. He said New York will be shocked. He said the Trade Towers would be removed…
A mile away people sat idle in parks, drinking Salvation Army grape juice…
A few hundred yards away the children’s play ground stood untouched near the river terrace. Daisies grew tall in bright sunlight and the hippopotamus statues had no dust on them at all. Song birds chirped in the bushes.
A commodities trader that saw how the second jet struck Tower Two ran to his computer to buy gold shares. He watched the price shoot up to $280 an ounce! Minutes later the exchange shut down. Business and Trade had come to a sudden halt. The Twin Towers of the World Trade Centre, erected in 1973 no longer existed….Babylon had fallen…businessmen cried because no one could do business there anymore.
In a movie theatre across the street from the World Trade Centre, the film ‘Ghost World’ was still being screened.
I turned 50 on that fateful day and cried most of the afternoon and evening…because
I was there in 1973 when these buildings were erected…I was there in New York, living in an apartment in 89th Street East, with my Puerto Rican friend, Victor Ferrer, who gave me his leather Bible cover for my Thomson’s Chain Reference Bible. His Mom thought she looked like Marilyn Monroe with her blond dyed hair.
I visited the United Nations building, the Twin Towers and the Statue of Liberty and have some pics to prove it! We climbed up and up in Lady Liberty’ s stairs right up to her crown from where we viewed New York from a completely different angle. We went up into the Empire State building. But the Twin Trade Towers were an enigma to us: why build such tall towers?
JFK said, ‘people ask why go to the moon? I say, why not!’
When I look at my faded photo’s in my album, I wonder about a lot of things. I also wonder why 9/11 happened on my 50th birth day. What is the significance for me? Eleventh of September will never again be the same for me. Every year they remember those who died in that cowardly act of those Muslim militant extremists who high-jacked the American planes and flew them into the Trade Towers and other targets.
The world will never be the same after that – I knew that much. Things have changed, for ever! I wonder what actually changed in me.
Monday, 31 August 2009
Write, write, write
It is quiet in Llaregyb, just the bible black fishing boat bobbing sea...Under Milkwood by Dylan Thomas, the poet extraordinaire, Irish by birth. Somehow those lines came back to me this morning as I sat at the desk, hoping for some fresh inspiration to write.
I remember George Bernard Shaw saying how he contributed to the Life Force by disciplining himself to write every day. Somehow I picked up on that and write something wherever I am, at the airport, in a hotel room, at home, in a train, in a restaurant, and I remember how I used to write from an early age, even in my room as a school boy.
When the teacher gave us five topics to write an essay I would write about all five and let her choose which one she wanted to mark. And then in Matric I wrote excercise books full for my friends to read - just because I wanted to write. I have never stopped writing.
My shelves and my metal trunks are full of notebooks from an early age. Whenever my granny told some of her unforgettable stories about the life of Afrikaners in Vrede, and in Brixton, I would go to my room and scribble them down. I intend to publish a book about Oum Jannie's stories and I want to turn it into a one-woman-drama with my daughter Yve who is expert at communicating with an audience as an actress.
Pilate made a statement that bears repitition: what I have written is written. Nothing can change that. What is not written is forgotten. There is so much in life that is forgotten because nobody wrote it down.
My stint as a journalist for the Afrikaans newspaper Beeld taught me to be accurate with words. I was a court journalist. If you do not give an accurate report you could be arrested. So every word counted. It disciplined my writing.
We have given out over 350 000 free Harvest Times newspapers over a period of two years just before the change of the century. I have written copiously, manuals, books and sermons as well as short booklets and tracts.
Somewhere someone will read something I have written and it will change a life it will sow a seed it will be a blessing it will meet a need.
Napoleon's statement the pen is mightier than the sword bears repitition and wherever I go if people tell me their stories I encourage them to write, write, write. And if they don't I keep notes in my little Moleskine notebooks of the outline of what they shared with me.
It passes the time to write and it is not a waste of time either, because it is preserved for posterity.
The man that encouraged me to keep a notebook was Camus, the nobel prize winning novelist from Algiers and France who was also a goal keeper for France in his hey day but died in a tragic car accident at the age of 40. He was an existentialist and some of his philosophies are not what I believe at all, but his lucid mind and his turn of phrase and keen observation inspired me for a life time to always keep a notebook handy. Because what you did not write down you forget.
If parents would remember to do this they would enjoy the treausre of their children's antics even more. Photographs do not do justice to any memory. It is a two dimensional reminder, whereas a written paragraph preserves the feelings on paper and gives perspective on multi-levels to preserve for ever.
Thanks to the Jews who preserved the writings of Moses and the Prophets for us and for the churches that preserved the writings of the Gospel writers and the epistles fo the apostles. Where would we be if it wasn't for them? We would be nowhere at all.
So in all my writing I comfort myself with the thought that someone somewhere woudl read what I have written and it would serve to improve their lives and benefit them far beyond my comprehension today.
There is much going on today on the Internet, Facebook, Twitter and all, but in the end writing is a key to preserving the present and to remind us of the past and help to predict the future.
What have you written today?
I remember George Bernard Shaw saying how he contributed to the Life Force by disciplining himself to write every day. Somehow I picked up on that and write something wherever I am, at the airport, in a hotel room, at home, in a train, in a restaurant, and I remember how I used to write from an early age, even in my room as a school boy.
When the teacher gave us five topics to write an essay I would write about all five and let her choose which one she wanted to mark. And then in Matric I wrote excercise books full for my friends to read - just because I wanted to write. I have never stopped writing.
My shelves and my metal trunks are full of notebooks from an early age. Whenever my granny told some of her unforgettable stories about the life of Afrikaners in Vrede, and in Brixton, I would go to my room and scribble them down. I intend to publish a book about Oum Jannie's stories and I want to turn it into a one-woman-drama with my daughter Yve who is expert at communicating with an audience as an actress.
Pilate made a statement that bears repitition: what I have written is written. Nothing can change that. What is not written is forgotten. There is so much in life that is forgotten because nobody wrote it down.
My stint as a journalist for the Afrikaans newspaper Beeld taught me to be accurate with words. I was a court journalist. If you do not give an accurate report you could be arrested. So every word counted. It disciplined my writing.
We have given out over 350 000 free Harvest Times newspapers over a period of two years just before the change of the century. I have written copiously, manuals, books and sermons as well as short booklets and tracts.
Somewhere someone will read something I have written and it will change a life it will sow a seed it will be a blessing it will meet a need.
Napoleon's statement the pen is mightier than the sword bears repitition and wherever I go if people tell me their stories I encourage them to write, write, write. And if they don't I keep notes in my little Moleskine notebooks of the outline of what they shared with me.
It passes the time to write and it is not a waste of time either, because it is preserved for posterity.
The man that encouraged me to keep a notebook was Camus, the nobel prize winning novelist from Algiers and France who was also a goal keeper for France in his hey day but died in a tragic car accident at the age of 40. He was an existentialist and some of his philosophies are not what I believe at all, but his lucid mind and his turn of phrase and keen observation inspired me for a life time to always keep a notebook handy. Because what you did not write down you forget.
If parents would remember to do this they would enjoy the treausre of their children's antics even more. Photographs do not do justice to any memory. It is a two dimensional reminder, whereas a written paragraph preserves the feelings on paper and gives perspective on multi-levels to preserve for ever.
Thanks to the Jews who preserved the writings of Moses and the Prophets for us and for the churches that preserved the writings of the Gospel writers and the epistles fo the apostles. Where would we be if it wasn't for them? We would be nowhere at all.
So in all my writing I comfort myself with the thought that someone somewhere woudl read what I have written and it would serve to improve their lives and benefit them far beyond my comprehension today.
There is much going on today on the Internet, Facebook, Twitter and all, but in the end writing is a key to preserving the present and to remind us of the past and help to predict the future.
What have you written today?
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