Song Of The Moment : Bring On The Wonder
by Susan Enan

I can’t see the stars anymore living here
Let’s go to the hills where the outlines are clear

Bring on the wonder
Bring on the song
I pushed you down deep in my soul for too long

I fell through the cracks at the end of our street
Let’s go to the beach, get the sand through our feet

Bring on the wonder
Bring on the song
I pushed you down deep in my soul for too long

Bring on the wonder
We got it all wrong
We pushed you down deep in our souls for too long

I don’t have the time for a drink from the cup
Let’s rest for a while ’til our souls catch us up

Bring on the wonder
Bring on the song
I pushed you down deep in my soul for too long

Bring on the wonder
We got it all wrong
We pushed you down deep in our souls, so hang on

Bring on the wonder
Bring on the song
I pushed you down deep in my soul for too long.

They Say..

The Narrow Way Travellers

The way is steep, and rocky. The path is narrow and easy to wander from. The fields on either side are lush and green, and the view worthwhile if you know where to look, and what you’re looking for. But yes, the way is narrow and hard to follow. The wide, smooth road is much easier to walk, and it always seems so closely parallel to the narrow path, but the destinations are so different.

Grace is God’s gift to us, grace to walk the narrow path, to climb the treacherous hill. It’s so easily received, once we know what we have. Grace pours down like rain once we recognise it. It falls like asphalt to smooth the small, faltering steps we take.

Grace is the most costly of all the things God has given. The ease with which we accept it is overwhelming, the cost and brutality through which it is supplied is an ongoing wound. So easy to take, but it cost so much to give.

How do you respond to such a gift? The gift of a narrow road, but a priceless destination? The gift of the One Who Travels With Us, the gift of the One Who Came To Open The Gate, the gift of the One Who Provides Every Strength we need along the way?

The gift we have to offer in return is a gift in kind. For His great cost we find ourselves at the precipice of Great Cost ourselves. Ours is the gift of Discipline, the Way of the Disciple. For in accepting Grace so easily, we must choose to offer the painful sacrifice of Being-A-Disciple and all that it entails, and so experience in a small way the pain of the Father.

The Way of the Disciple is to find the Character (which comes from perseverance) to pursue the steep path, the Vision to see what God reveals along the path, so unique to each one of us and yet each sight an intimate revealing of the Father. The Hope to walk still when the steps are lit only one by one, and when the Way is lonely.

The Way of the Disciple is to accept and know loneliness as being without the company of other travellers. To learn the discipline of hearing the Master’s voice. To learn obedience. To learn to Love holiness and integrity. To pursue them with wold abandon. To choose others, to lose your life willing in the act of serving Others.

The Way of the Disciple is to lose your life not in martyrdom but in selfless expression of the Saviour’s Love. It is a great pain, a living wound. But where there is hurt, love, and you will find there is no more hurt, only more love.

There are many who choose the way of the field. The lush green grass between the narrow road and the smooth. They travel close enough to the narrow that they are ever at the edge of losing their footing, stumbling back onto the narrow way. Creating new scars that show they belong to Christ.

The Way of the Disciple, the gift of Discipline is our costly gift to God, and the easy acceptance of His grace becomes greater and greater as you go. The burden becomes indeed light, as the path reaches new peaks and greater heights. Each step strengthens you for the next, and your scars become the signs that show; you are a Narrow Way Traveller.

onward, to the distant shore
onward to my Father’s house
to a land I’ve never been
places only Heaven sees

to this day, I pledge my sight
not to close or turn my eyes
from the path, so steep inclined
this the narrow path I find

to the clouds of greatest sorrow
still I know my Saviour’s pain
and the Gospel Love’s companion
shapes my faith, my heart, my soul

find me climbing in the morning
taking step by step in starlight
for I travel where He leads me
on the narrow way I go

there He finds me, there He lifts me
with His hand so strong and still
bears me onward when I falter
when I fear and fail Him still

still I choose You, dearest Saviour
still I choose this rocky way
by my scars Lord, does Love grow here
so to love and bear Your name

love grows quickly by the hour
deeper still as yet I climb
hand held tightly to my Saviour
arms outstretched on either side

bring me Lord to your good measure
teach me wisely teach me well
let me learn the path so holy
help me climb that narrow way

grace that holds me while I tremble
lets me lean on Hope and Faith
grants me peace when storms are raging
grace that leads me on the way

There It Is

I passed a man with a beard on a bicycle the other day. He was lost, looking for a street just a couple of blocks away from where we were. He had a South American accent, and a beard that was groomed perfectly, too perfectly for a man so young.

I was standing at the traffic lights, waiting for the buzz. I could sense his anxiousness behind, and eventually he worked up the courage to ask me for directions. It was my pleasure to give them to him, and then I walked across the crossing. He rode past me on his bike and then promptly took a wrong turn.

Nevertheless, by the time I reached the next road I was crossing, there he came bicycling back, a smile and a wave as he passed me again. As far as random encounters go, I rather enjoyed it.

Random
Life is a small series of random events at the moment, because everything else is connected to either business, church or Easter. And Easter is precious.

Today we have 2600 registrations and still counting. Ten days to go.

Just Like An Internet Chatroom

That’s what they’re saying round here. That the office is like an open door on an internet chatroom where just about anyone could walk in at anytime.

And I can see what they mean.

We have a lot of people that come through these doors. A lot of them are friends and people that we know well, and then there are a bunch of strangers that make us smile and laugh, sometimes with them, sometimes at them and sometimes at ourselves.

Today was a classic case in point of people coming in and out of the office and introductions being made all round.. and no one really know what was going on!

I Took A Road Less-Travelled And See What I’ve Become


It Started With A Kiss..or something like that
Actually it started with an afternoon of drinking strong coffee on the deck in Ponsonby, talking about could-be’s, may-be’s and possibilities for the new year. Stephen has this amazing back deck in the middle of Ponsonby that feels like it’s in the middle of the west-facing Waitakere ranges. So we’re sitting, talking, drinking.. and the subject of Taranaki comes up – that i’ve never been there.. and the next thing you know – i’m headed down a highway I’ve never travelled before, with someone I barely know yet feels like family… and New Plymouth here I come.
We travelled well together but mostly I was lost in the magic of a new landscape.. and thankfully enough my travel buddy was indulgent enough to enjoy the roadtrip with me. It’s been such a long time sense i saw any open road that wasn’t as familiar to me as the back of my hand.
It was such a good time – the trip down, the look on the boys (see above) faces when I arrived to join the rest of the family. The tour around the city, the New Year’s Eve roast & single malt / cigar indulgence as we mellowly saw out 2006. New Year’s Day spent touring the coast, visiting the beach carnival at Oakura and all the small settlements along the way.. and then the road home on Tuesday – finishing with another round of earthmoving coffee on the Pons. deck.
Perfect.
And it started a whole new fresh inspiration and rebirth of taonga for my spirit.
The Journey of Taranaki – as told in Maori legend

In the past many magnificent mountain gods lived near the heart of the North Island Te Ika a Maui (the fish of Maui): Ruapehu, Tongariro, Ngaruahoe, Taranaki, Tauhara… and the only female – little Pihanga.

Pihanga was a gracefully contoured mountain with bush robed flanks and a delicate nature. All the mountains wanted Pihanga for their own – but particularly Tongariro and Taranaki.

The earth shook as the two fought. Lightening crashed, thunder rolled, ash and molten lava spumed from the mountains. In the fighting Tongariro lost his head, some say he deliberately broke it off to fling it at Taranaki, others say Taranaki
sliced it off with a powerful blow. The top flew off and fell into the centre of Lake Taupo where it can be seen today as Moututaiko Island.

But Tongariro was the stronger of the two mountains. He defeated Taranaki, whose peak shuddered and sides convulsed. Tongariro gave a final departing kick to Taranaki’s flanks and the defeated mountain dived underground. Toka – a – Rauhotu, a small stone of great mana acted as a guide stone, leading him to the coast. In his flight he carved the Wanganui River, forming the Ngaere swamp when he stopped to rest.

At the water’s edge Toka – a – Rauhotu lead Taranaki beneath the sea and north-west up the coast. He surfaced briefly and glimpsed Pouakai, a beautiful range. He
settled beside her, and the guide stone rested on his seaward side.

Taranaki and Pouakai had many children, wind and rain, plants and people, rocks and rivers. In the Central North Island Tongariro stands protectively over the little mountain, wrapping her in soft clouds of love as she lies nestled by the town of Turangi on the shores of Lake Taupo.

As children, we travelled far and wide throughout Te Ika a Maui (the North Island). We visited pa sites, sites of the Maori Wars, settlement sites, the first missionary houses, the meetinghouse at Waitangi .. places of huge historical significance. Whatever school didn’t teach us in regards to the Maori culture and the turmoil between Pakeha and Maori.. Mum did. Actually Mum taught us most. We surged around Rotorua, the Auckland Museum and Auckland’s various pa sites all the time.
In 6th form, we studied Parihaka at school for the first time. The land claims tribunal we had studied, as well as the Treaty and all it’s unfortunate translatory misery, the confiscation of land, the purchase agreements on which our major centres were founded.. but in the story of Parihaka I found this enormous juxtaposition of justice, humanity, desire, ancenstry, history, spiritual providence and hope.
Right now the Parihaka festival is being celebrated in the heart of Taranaki – one of the most significant cultural events of the 19th century, that we are only beginning to grasp as part of our nation’s often brutal cultural heritage. This New Year I travelled to Taranaki for the first time in my life, and within me was opened up again the huge sense of wonder and mystery at the history, richness and wonder about the place.
Landmarks
When you’re in a 1982 Mercedes without a radio – you have to absorb the landscape you find yourself in – the road down from Te Kuiti that rolls in and out of valleys, out to the coast and then back in and across the range, through tunnels under Maori burial grounds and back to the coast via rivermouth bridges.
Then heading out of New Plymouth, the coast road that’s flooded with boulders, seacliffs, uncertain sand and wind that pushes you along. The pohutakawas there are flourishing this summer – a brilliant burst of scarlet against bright blue skies. In places where the rolling volcanic domes stop for a moment – you can get a sense of the plateau that reaches out to the edge and then drops off into the sea – the sky seems vast and huge – like it does along America’s long, straight, flat interstates.
The settlements that you stop at are one street, facade-lined tributes to the age of local dairy farming & processing – meatworks, dairy works in every place that made a town, that created a job, and meant a house for a family, with a school and a church and a playground. The further down the coast you roll, the earlier they stopping whirring as technology enabled us to transport further, faster and colder.. the older and more demolished by the salt air they are.
It’s the kind of place that you immediately connect with on some deeper level.. there’s a sense of peace and muddy turmoil undergirding her vitality. There’s an attitude within the people that you meet that is 2 parts ‘screw-you’ and 2 parts ‘good on ya’. It’s an inescapable strength and yet the place is filled with gang history, violence and volatility.
Perhaps it’s the moodiness of the long love-lorn Taranaki, pining for his love. Perhaps the desire of Taranaki people to prove themselves stems out of his lost battle to win Pihanga’s affection. No Maori live in the line between Taranaki & Tongariro, where Pihanga rests, as they believe that one day the mountain will return to claim her. Perhaps it’s the bloodiness of the land, and the Maori history of inter-tribal battles that pushed the Taranaki tribes to the coast from the inland Tainui tribe of the Waikato. It could even be the remnant of resistance to the Treaty of Waitangi .. that the Taranaki tribes never signed, that fuels the independence and spirit of the place.

The Legacy of Parihaka – A Tale For Our Time
This history of Parihaka tells the story with much factual detail. Let me overview for you briefly from my 6th form memory..
During the land confiscations and dispossesion of the Maori people from their lands all over New Zealand, the Parihaka settlement was established. It became home to so many who had been removed from their tribal lands by the Crown, lands that were confiscated and yet not occupied in many cases. In 1881, the Crown invaded Parihaka which then led to a series of passive acts of resistance. Led by the prophets Te Whiti and Tohu Kakahi (men of both Christian and Maori belief), the lands were ploughed, fences erected, and on and on and on.
The white feather that Te Whiti and his followers wore was an ongoing symbol of their commitment to the belief that New Zealand could successfully be bi-cultural, so long as certain respects for Maori land ownership and cultures were respected by the Crown.
So much of the spirit of that struggle lives on .. Driving down Highway 45, you see pa site after pa site – the lands of Taranaki that were once occupied and productive, the site of so many battles through the Maori (or better called the New Zealand) Wars of the 1800’s.
The white man’s thirst fo

r land that he couldn’t use or populate is remarkable. The inherrant arrogance of superiority. The slide that appropriation and justice by any definition quickly takes into bloodshed and pointless aggression.

So in those days, and in these days .. where is the God who commanded Israel to take possession of the land? What does he say to the Gentile today? What does he say to the displaced children of Israel? What did he say then to the displaced children of Maori?
Humanity tells it’s tales over and over and over again, like fables to a child.. what is the place of peace in a time like this?