by tashmcgill | Apr 1, 2008 | Uncategorized
I sat in Circus Circus last night – arriving with every intention of sitting in the window seat with my journal and a coffee. I meant to spend an hour in my own company, coming to terms with myself again. But instead, I stumbled with some intentional delight into peppermint tea, that stretched into a long black, then to a cabernet merlot, followed by dinner, more wine, dessert and a flat white. The hour became six or so, and the company did something good for my soul.
There are some places you can go running, and you find yourself in the securest of arms. Places where the passing of time has been more like the writing of history and the weaving of a story that brings truth and hope. In your veins, the same blood beats, the same story you know from both sides of the table and yet there is still more to talk about, more to discover, more to learn from one another.
There is something timeless and eternal about that place, the sanctuary of it.
There are so few places in life where you can laugh, cry, tell lies about yourself and be honest all at once. Grace gives you permission to cover over what you’re too frightened to reveal as yet, but the Truth sits outside of you as well.
It was a good day, because it began and ended in the arms of deep love. I never knew the power of love within my own heart to build something from nothing and make it significant for what is and could be, what is not and could never be. There is strength for me in the vulnerability, anguish and unshakeable desire of these places. There are things I desire I cannot have and things I still want despite the knowledge of the Truth within me. I wrestle with my own heart and God’s for the fruit of these years, spent learning everything I do not yet know.
My heart is left longing and yet satisfied all at once.
by tashmcgill | Mar 14, 2008 | Strategy
I wandered in the desert for a long time. I wondered where I had come from. What was my reason? Why was I here? Am I just biology? If I am, does anything I choose to do matter? Really matter? After all, if I am accidental, then things just are what they are, and will be what they’ll be.
And why would I want to change any of that? Especially if I am only a spark of biology without destiny or design.
Accidental. This is the desert I lived in for a long time, believing that there was no reason. This was a desert without hope, because everything was fleeting and meaningless. There was nothing I knew of that had meaning beyond dust, dirt and biology.
But there are desert flowers that exist. They birth and grow in a land with endless sun, wind and little water. And a flower like that can’t happen by accident. You have to concieve of it, design a flower that can live in a desert… because one is a paradox to the other.
Design. The formation of ideas. The design of what is necessary to ensure survival. Design implies intent. Intent denotes reason, reason proves purpose.
I am a designer. I see problems as opportunities and to see what could be, to make what can be. I am a designer of life and human experience. Of my experience, despite the variables and constraints of the spaces I design within.
So perhaps my life is not accidental after all, just a desert flower. I was built for dry, stormy places. I am making ways for new streams of water in the desert. I am searching for signs of life that look differently from how I expected.
Blooming. Searching. Alive with intention.
by tashmcgill | Mar 12, 2008 | eastercamp, god ideas, Uncategorized, youth ministry
love is more thicker than forget : ee cummings
love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail
it is most mad and moonly
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea
love is less always than to win
less never than alive
less bigger than the least begin
less littler than forgive
it is most sane and sunly
and more it cannot die
than all the sky which only
is higher than the sky
It Has Been Too Long Since We Were Together
This has been a week of long nights, early mornings, rushed words, hasty dreams, dark clouds, pinot noir, the absence of cigar smoke, longing for some things, craving others, wallowing in sensory pleasure and the grasping pain of it. It’s not even been a week, after all, today is Wednesday and things only started on Sunday.
But it’s too long since we’ve been together, my heart and I.. so we have snatched tender moments in the days and nights..
1. Sunset on Monday in golden light, breaking bread and drinking wine for the sake of art, film, magic, storytelling and Hope.
2. An friend of many days and a corner store wine bar, laughing and telling stories of surprising mirth, sorrow and Hope.
3. A long day of fine-tuning, waiting, talking, discussing, listening, praying and Hoping.
Tonight the love affair with my soul continues.
It’s wednesday night and usually that would mean that I’m at youth group. At least it used to, in this community that I live in. Nowadays it means I usually work late, looking for something that will occupy the space and give it meaning. Some of my best work comes from Wednesday Weight Of The Absence.
So – I’m writing for the kids – my kids. Cos without being too petty.. even tho I don’t got kids of my own anymore, in eight days time, I’ll have 3500 of them at least. And for four days, I do youth ministry. Only four days to change the world. Anyone want to come with me?
Oh, For The Hell Of It
Earlier I posted here about our mainstream show at eastercamp this year. Sure enough, we’ve booked Elemenop, Streetwise Scarlet, Midnight Youth, Arms Reach and crowd favourites Mumsdollar to play this year.
The feedback has been heavy, expected and equally disappointing.
…Only what is Righteous and Holy should be presented before God. If you were standing before God would you have a clear conscience that the bands chosen glorify him on the weekend that he was crucified?
… we gather together to Glorify Christ for what he has done for us, not listen to a bunch of non Christian bands, we gather together to encourage each other and worship Christ. This is where we feel we cannot affirm the current decisions made here for Easter camp as a church family.
.. I really wanted to get clarification where you guys were headed as I am extremely uncomfortable where the camp is heading spiritually and we are starting to take steps to protect our teens in our youth groups.
.. As a pastor you can understand where I’m coming from I hope, we only want the best we can for our church family. And ultimately we are responsible for the teens we send there as leadership in our church, and before God.
.. I will not apologize for the Gospel, and if it is not going to be preached, I will pull you up on it. This is my duty as a fellow Christian. Iron sharpens iron, You need to know, we’re not into social justice, were into the Word of God and Christ Crucified. That’s the real gospel, teens need to hear that message.
This is exactly the kind of feedback that we expected from some groups, but it gives me great delight to hold on fast once again to the values that we do hold precisely so dear. When we gather together each Easter, we absolutely preach the Gospel, steady and true. We use scripture, story, image, you name it. More than that even, we present a Gospel that is very living, very real and very much in the trenches, exactly where Christ ground it out.
I love the story of the Wesley brothers, who vowed at one time to only ever use the basest, most vile and common language that was to be understood by the people, so that there would be no hindrance to their hearing of the Gospel of Grace and Truth. It’s in our ministry, care and concern for the last, the least and the lost that we find ourselves on the precipice of dangerously vile ground.
I like living here. This is a space that will change the face of the church in NZ in fifteen years, because as I’m sure so many will agree, a Gospel without true justice isn’t any Gospel at all. Grace and Justice and inexplicably connected in this faith. I’m even prepared for camp to get smaller, so that the Truth can get bigger. As if everything single thing we do at camp isn’t buried at the foot of Christ first.
Imagine.. a Gospel without a love for the lost. That’s exactly what I hear in these words. John Macarthur would be loving this guy, but I end up feeling just sad at the misled unfortunate shadow that’s being cast here. If you’re so concerned with the preciseness of truth, how does one account for half, if not all the apostles of the first church? Bring it on, I say.
As if our God is scared for one second of a cutesy pop lyric that doesn’t use the word Hallelujah. As my friend Rob Harley is quick to point out on the phone the other night… Simon and Garfunkel hit the nail on the head when in the 60’s they said “the words of a prophets are written on the subway walls” when the church was still busy blessing the Lamb and singing Glory.
See, the world is calling out for Truth, crying out over injustice, burdened with sorrows. And her modern day prophets sing the songs that make the earth groan… who couldn’t hear that and respond.
by tashmcgill | Mar 5, 2008 | god ideas, Uncategorized
Or Skin Frequencies
Isn’t it incredible that when God let music fall from heaven, He reserved one set of melodies and harmonies for instruments of skin? We are touch-sensitive creatures.. areas of skin that are sacred, that are public, that are neutral. Touch corresponds to dozens of hidden messages wrapped up in scent, sight, touch, smell… and these sensations are like an orchestra pit in the belly or the womb. There is a sacred song playing somewhere when I connect with human music.
The right touch does wonders in a touch-starved world. Sometimes there is a longing for human music when no other song seems to fit. It’s a song of Job, a song of Solomon, a song of Moses and Miriam, even of Mary. There’s an endless frequency to be found in skin on skin. The embrace, the holding of the hand. The subtle invasion of body space to leave a mark or caress on the arm of another. The stolen kiss on the top of the head, the forehead or the back. (Those are some of my favourite places to say I appreciate you to the nearest and dearest – a chaste kiss on the glancing tip of a shoulder blade, an apex of strength and grace).
