Blog moved...

As I've recently been getting back into blogging, and a new friend introduced me to posterous, I've decided to try a different blog platform so from now on my blog will be found here.

(For the kind people who have subscribed to my blogger account, its possible to subscribe again over there.)

See you on the other side....

My relationship with the bible pt 1

I am currently auditing a module on biblical exegesis (while I do an independent learning module on Church planting and mission on contemporary culture along side it).

When we began this academic year I realised I was quite confused about the bible - having been a good (rather fundamentalist in my youth!) evangelical I had a clear set of beliefs about what the bible is and what it is for. As time has gone by and my faith has had to (hopefully) mature through some challenging interactions and cultural experiences, I have come to see many of those beliefs as leading to 'dead-ends' that don't lead to the Kingdom of God, I've begun to doubt those premises.

So as I approached this year of doctrine and bible studies, I wanted to get down on paper what I did believe about the bible, in order to see if that changed over the course of this year. This is what I wrote:

The Bible is:
• a collection of writings about God's action in the world.
• written by humans (men), inspired in their work of composing, compiling and editing by God's Spirit interacting with them.
• God speaking to us through these human writers - through the lenses of time, context, culture and human understanding.
• not complete, in the sense that it does not say everything there is to say about everything.
• enough to reveal a coherent picture of God's nature that orientates us to God's truth.
• essential as the anchor to God's truth.

I'll say more about this over the next few weeks (well, based on my track record of blogging it'll probably be more like months!) but I'd be interested in your thoughts in the meantime...

Albert Munday and grief

My grandad died last week. He had had Dementia for about 15 years, and the last few years he has been excellently cared for by New Close Care Home in Kent. Unfortunately my mum and my uncle weren't able to be with him as he passed away, but I feel quite sure he was well looked after so I don't worry about that - I believe he knew in his heart that he was loved.

My grandad spent a lot of time with us when I was growing up -he taught me to rollerskate, took me to the beach, the funfair, helped me choreograph dance routines...

When my mum and uncle and aunt were sorting through his belongings over the weekend, the photos of him were all with children, us grandchildren and assorted friends...

He befriended all my friends, and all my cousins' friends, to the point that some of them were still in touch with them after I'd lost touch.

He also taught me to read the bible, reading to me from his black leather KJV, when I crept into his room in the mornings when he stayed with us. I'm convinced that my own faith journey has taken me here because of his influence.

I had naievly thought I had done all my grieving for him, as he has been unable to speak or feed himself for a long time. I felt terrible when I caught myself wishing he would die so he could be free - I just wanted him to be able to go to his home in heaven. I hated the idea that he was suffering when he had pressure sores or a chest infection, the physical pain made worse by no longer having the faculties to understand why he was in pain. I thought his death would be a relief for him and for us.

A good friend who lost her mum to Alzheimers warned me that she'd felt the same way until the day actually came, and then she realised that no matter how much we long for the end of their suffering, when death steals them away it's still an heart-breaking wrench.

Now I know she was entirely right, as I miss Grandad more than I could have imagined, especially since the Grandad I miss is one who was stolen by the dementia a long time ago.

My grief feels like the my chest and stomach are swollen to twice their size, leaving no room to breath and no strength to think straight. It leaves me for an hour at a time so I can almost forget, and then it returns with a vengeance and I dissolve once more into tears.

It will pass; the funeral service will help as we gather together to comfort each other. I will feel something of the peace I know he now has, and I will be glad he is now free.

I just have to bear this time and be willing to feel it and let it go. If you're the praying kind, I'd appreciate your prayers...