My Water Only Year

I love a challenge. I enjoy trying to do something new…something I haven’t done before. Distance running was that challenge a few years ago, and it’s something I’ve continued and really enjoy now. But I fancied a new challenge….a different challenge.

And so this year I am only drinking water. That’s right, in 2013 no other beverage will touch my lips. No tea/coffee. No alcohol. No fizzy drinks. No pure orange. Nothing but water.

Every meal. Every day. Every week. Every month. This whole year.

I’m doing this for 3 main reasons:

1. To test my willpower and prove to myself that I don’t NEED certain things in life. Some things are a luxury & I want to be grateful for small things in life that others don’t get to experience
2. To raise a stack load of money for an amazing cause – the charity Stand By Me.
3. To take on a difficult challenge that will add to my general health and well being.

I am also being joined by 12 young people from church, who will each be taking on the challenge of drinking water-only for a month at a time.

I’m a couple of months into it all and it hasn’t been easy I’ll admit. Hard to get out of the routine of drinking whatever I fancied. Difficult to resist the temptation of sugary drinks with a pizza, a hot drink when I’m cold, or a flavoured drink with my dinner. But I suppose that’s the idea….and I’ve managed okay.

So this is our small sacrifice for one year. I would love you to join us by sacrificing a small amount of your money that will go towards raising a stack load of money for Stand By Me – a charity that works in a part of the world where water is considered a luxury.

Join me over here

Thanks…

Walls

Think this is great

A Simple Christmas

A real challenge this Christmas

Perfect Strength

Here’s an article I recently had published over here

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We live in a society of strength. Bosses stamp their authority. Leaders have to get everything right. Politicians must have it all together. Failure often means the end for these people.

We live in culture of perfection. Celebrities feed us the perfect lifestyle. Magazines reveal to us the perfect look. Holywood profiles the best cars and the perfect homes.

Against this backdrop of strength and perfection, when it comes to leadership, we can be lured into thinking that we can never measure up.

But how about replacing the word strength with vulnerability and introducing the concept of authenticity rather than perfection?

Our communities need to stop focusing so much on strength, coolness, and perfection. Our churches should be the place where the masks can come off. Our role as the Body of Christ should be to embrace all people and to create a place where people will feel free to be who they are, whether they fit in a specific cultural group, or no culture at all. After all, it may be the only place where they can be accepted.

And this must all start with the leadership. For too long we’ve had the super-pastor, the perfect leader, or the spiritual celebrity that may help to draw a crowd but will fail to foster a spirit of openness or honesty.

As leaders, there is a temptation to walk around with shows of bravado holding our masks up that all is good in our world and that we are holding it all together. We play our silly little perfection game rather than dare admit that we have insecurities, may not be doing well, or don’t know the right answer. We all know we each have issues. We are aware that everyone struggles with something. We all have our shortcomings. So why the false production?

For those leaders who feel like they aren’t good up front or have nothing spectacular to offer; remember that shooting stars will never guide a ship in the night. We don’t need any more shooting stars in the church, or in leadership. Instead we need faithful, devoted people who are fixed and not going anywhere.

For those who feel like they aren’t cool enough; if all we do is to create or to uphold the culture of coolness within our churches or society then all we develop is a bunch of shallow people trying hard to fit in. You aren’t supposed to be like other people…you are called to love other people.

And so I’m learning to be more vulnerable. I’m trying hard to not always have the final word. I’m becoming slowly better at not always responding to a personal criticism with an immediate defence. I’m determined to share my insecurities more and allow others to hear my worries or concerns.

It’s okay not to have it all together.
It’s okay not to have all the answers.
It’s okay to have someone disagree with your opinion.
It’s okay to share your fears with others.
It’s okay to be vulnerable.

Perhaps in doing this myself it will allow others around to do the same. Perhaps our own vulnerability will help others realise that they don’t need to participate in their own false little productions. And perhaps it may allow me to be freer in who I am and who I can become.

May we all somehow discover the truth of the Apostle Paul’s words that the power of God is mysteriously made perfect in weakness. It seems that in the upside down kingdom of God, vulnerability and authenticity can actually bring about this perfect strength.

Uganda 2012

Sometimes words aren’t enough to describe what you have experienced. But perhaps this might help…

I can’t compete…

I can’t compete with the image of celebrities in our world. I don’t have the perfect look, the chiselled body, the perfect 6 pack, the swept hair and the airbrushed photos. I don’t own the best clothes, the most expensive labels or the most current look.

I can’t compete with the size of houses that the young adults in One Tree Hill live in. I don’t have the massive driveway, the lovely veranda and the huge welcome area. I don’t have bedrooms bigger than most people’s houses or the Range Rover size cars that all of them seem to drive. I won’t look as good first thing in the morning or be able to go out to dinner every single evening.

I can’t compete with the poetic speeches delivered by men to their lovers in Romantic Comedy films. I don’t flow with my words as well as them, have the perfect lines written for me, or have an accompanying orchestra to give my words more power. I won’t be as funny as Adam Sandler or as mysterious as Channing Tattum.

And I can’t compete with the perfect lifestyle that gets fed to us from Holywood. I won’t be able to be as creative with my dates because I can’t hire a jet ski at a moment’s notice, walk down Central Park when I feel like it, or buy a new piece of jewellary every week. I don’t own a boat, can’t afford a table at the most expensive restaurants, or turn up at the best parties.

I can’t compete with the perfect look, the perfect homes, the perfect words, or the perfect lifestyle. I can’t compete and I’m tired trying to. Perhaps you are too.

I can’t compete…but I can be content.

Potent Memories

I’ve been sitting here alone for the past hour listening to some music. Chilling to the sounds of Ben Howard, Paolo Nutini and Benjamin Francis Leftwich. It’s great stuff and I love the songs…

But I love them not just for the songs, but for the memories they evoke. It’s amazing how music can do that. How some songs can remind you of certain times in your life. Somewhere between the notes, words, chords and music they paint a picture of a place you once were.

Tonight I’m listening to my African playlist. A selection of 100 songs that Sarah put together for me the night before I left for Uganda at the start of July. I listened to these songs on the plane while others slept. I listened to these songs when we took time alone. And I listened to these songs in my bed every night reflecting on the events of the day.

And tonight these same songs are bringing back some potent memories…

Memories of the pure joy on children’s faces as we arrived in their classroom
Memories of playing Duck, Duck, Goose and singing silly songs with scores of children
Memories of listening to the sounds of our African host family sing together under the night’s sky
Memories of watching a group of people I have shared with over the past year immerse themselves in a playground of several hundred kids
Memories of laughing at some ridiculous things with those same friends
Memories of such intense yet honest staring eyes, asking for little more than attention and time
Memories of those same eyes longing for more as we served rice into their pathetic little plastic bags
Memories of a contentment within myself, of a peace in God, and of a richness that comes from living in community with others.

At times it seemed to be like God was more present in Africa. Of course this isn’t true but the feeling was hard to shake. Perhaps it’s because He is near to the broken hearted, close to the weak and his heart is bent towards the poor.

Things are simpler in Africa. The lack of extra commodities is made up for by enjoying the gift of time together. The lack of advanced technology is replaced with being fully present with each other. And the lack of resources close to hand leads to a greater contentment in what they already have.

What I had in my hand the children longed to hold.
What the children had in their lives I longed to have.

I’ll share more basic details about our trip in time. In truth, I’m still taking time to reflect on the whole experience. But for now I’ll leave you with a couple of photos of those who require so much, yet ask for so little…

The new swing we provided for the school

Serving lunch to 800 children and young people

The class of 13-14 year olds we had the privilege of teaching for a fortnight