We're just back from watching the sun go down at Sotherndown. While travelling back and forth they played Madonna's Vogue twice on the radio. This is my last night in Cardiff. Tomorrow I head back to Malmö with Zoe and Mark in tow (or toe?) ready to celebrate the dawn of 2006.

The Switchbacks
This morning I rode a trail that I've ridden many times in the past, but haven't been near for maybe 3 or 4 months. It's known as 'The Switchbacks' because of the hairpin turns, which make it a really fun ride. It starts out steepish and fairly simple, and ends with a fast, near flat, fairly technical (weaving between trees etc.) piece of singletrack.

This morning I noticed that the trail has changed somewhat since my last ride. The loose rocks have gone and been replaced by small red stones, as have other more precarious parts of the trail. This makes it a much faster ride, but also a much safer ride and I'm not sure I like it.

The thing I enjoyed the most was just being outside and out of the city. I know it sounds like a cliché, but too little time in the outdoors makes me feel like a caged animal.

Thanks to John, James, Elinor and Elin I now have a CV in Swedish! Tack så mycket. Also thanks to those who have cared for me in different ways during my first month in Sweden. I've spent some time figuring out the mac keyboard shortcuts so will no longer be spelling Malmö without the dots.

God Jul en och allt (I'm sure you can't directly translate "one and all" like that but what do I know?)

Peace.

This is my third day in the UK. It's nice to be home, seeing friends and family and noticing all the differences between here and Sweden. One of the things I noticed first was that I was looking the wrong way when crossing the road. I've had to remind myself, when walking into a shop, "it's not 'hey' and 'tack,' but 'hi' and thankyou..."

I haven't needed my gloves or hat either...

Yesterday at 7.35am I awoke to the sound of words I didn't recognise and voices I did as Emma and Sofia sang me the Swedish equivalent of 'Happy Birthday' and entered the room with an icecream cake and candles. I blew out the candles and proceeded with my icecream breakfast...

At 7.40am Elinor and Sara showed up, sang, and presented me with manna (well, Ben and Jerry's).

During the day I hung out with Emma, went shopping and got ready for our guests in the evening. We had a great meal - a feta cheese pie, and people started arriving from 8ish. The apartment filled up and we had a lot of fun mingling with some new friends.

Pictures (hopefully) to follow (please: Emma, Pete, anyone else who brought their camera).

All in all a great birthday.

Well the winter here is much milder than I expected. That's not to say it isn't cold, but it's December 17th and I've been able to continue cycling wherever I need to go. I've only had one moment where I would say I was chilled to the bone and that actually had more to do with following someone who was cycling really slow. To top this off I think I've only been caught in rain twice this month and neither occasion was heavy enough to dampen my shoe-covered toes.

Today is the Malmo Vineyard Christmas party and I'll hopefully get to sample some more traditional Swedish Christmas food (if any of it is vegetarian!) I'm constantly blown away by the fact that you can move cities and find a community of like-minded individuals with whom you can share life and faith (not that the two are really that easy to separate!)

On Monday I celebrate my 23rd Birthday, which should be fun. This year I get to celebrate it twice - on Monday with friends in Malmo and then Tuesday when I fly home to my family for Christmas.

Now to make some Greek(ish) couscous salad with one of the bargains of Malmo - 20kr for 1/2Kg of feta cheese (from the Greek delicatessen in Mollevangen).

Tonight we celebrated Lucia at Malmo Stadsbibliotek (city library) with a midnight concert from a small band of choristers. It's so nice to be somewhere where advent festivities aren't completely overshadowed by the impulse to max out the collective credit card.

The last few days I've been full of cold and very aware that the clock is ticking in the run up for Christmas. I went to university with Elinor and printed out some notices offering proof reading for students whose first language is Swedish and are submitting coursework in English. It'll be interesting to see what comes.

These times of being slightly below par are kind of good for reflecting and evaluating progress I guess.

On Wednesday night I attended an interdenominational mass that seems to be run by students of a local theological college. It was the first service I've been to that was held entirely in Swedish (including all songs), and, because of the cold, my head was really not in gear, but it was very relaxed and I enjoyed its simplicity.

Well I'm still alive. Mark C went home on Saturday, so I'm now hanging with mostly Swedes. The Swedish isn't coming along as quickly as I would like, but I am learning, and I'm sure that when I fix myself a routine of practise and study I will improve much faster.

On Friday night Mark, Emma and I were at Crash, an indie night at The Deep. We met up with some of Emma's friends from back home (Varnamo), including Nicholas who goes out with their housemate (Bea). I think Emma found it amusing when Nicholas grabbed me and pulled me into a group of lads who were jumping up and down on the dancefloor singing along with some swedish band that I'd never heard. Not one to let the fact that I can't make out the lyrics hold me back I decided to sing along ("watermelon, watermelon, watermelon...").

I'm feeling very taken care of. God seems to have provided me with a network of supportive and encouraging friends far more quickly than I would ever have expected.

I had Fika at the Glassfabriken (Ice Cream Factory) this afternoon with some of the guys from Malmo Vineyard. We talked about everything from music to feminism to Dostoevsky to foreign languages.

Well Malmo just got a whole lot smaller. Someone has kindly lent me a bike.

I'm currently staying with Elinor and Sara, who were doing training at Toronto Airport Church before beginning their studies at Malmo Uni. It's interesting the people who have showed up in this city in the last few months and who are all trying to figure out what God is up to.

I'm starting to get used to being introduced to people as an "Englishman," despite being Welsh.

Good news - there may be some work on the horizon!

Today is a miserable autumnal Thursday in Malmo - rain and grey skies. I'm pretty tired from the moving around I have been doing - sleeping at one friend's house, then another and hoping for an opportunity for accommodation until the end of December to arise.

I've met some great people this week and in many ways being here is a lot of fun. My challenge right now is getting into "the system." In order to get on a language course I need a residence number, which I get when I have work. Learning Swedish would really improve my chances of overcoming a couple of cultural barriers. One of these barriers is that Swedes are great at English and until you have a good basic grasp of the language it's hard to get them to speak to you in Swedish (more than a simple "hi, how are you?").

This morning I met a guy who has just moved to Malmo from Palestine. He was walking the wrong direction from the Migration office to wherever he was going and presented me a map showing where he was going. The map had a green line showing the roads he should follow to his destination. Looking at the map I noticed that this route was probably the longest. The green line zig-zagged across this particular part of town threatening to turn a 10 minute stroll into a 45 minute tour of South-West Malmo. I was reminded of the directions given me by the lady at the tax office the other day which were equally as indirect. I'm sure there's some kind of conspiracy going on...

Mark and Jon are here, exploring the pigeon-less streets of Malmo. It was nice to hear some news from the UK.

On Friday I went to the tax office where I was told that I need a residence permit number to register, then the migration board where I was told that I need a job to register. I'm heading for the AMS (equivalent of Job Centre) to find out about language courses and work advice, then probably to Espresso House.

This evening I head across to Copenhagen for VOLT - the leadership training at Copenhagen Vineyard.

Last night was my first experience of a housegroup held in Swedish. Fortunately I had Sofia to translate. It was great - we looked at the Vineyard value of worship, we sang around the piano, and then Ola asked if I'd mind if they pray for me. As they prayed they gave words that answered all the niggling fears that I had going on inside my head - it was truly uncanny.

Afterwards we cycled back in crisp minus temperatures (when I got to the bike the seat was frosted over!) and I was filled with the deep sense of peace knowing that, whatever happens, God is in control.

Well I'm here. Interestingly God provided me some comfort on the way, through the medium of people both known and unknown. The first was Clare Samuel, who was on the train from Cardiff to Newport and provided the distraction I needed from the fact I had just said goodbye to Zoe (which was no fun at all).

When I arrived at Birmingham International Airport I went to Starbucks for my final Caramel Macchiato for a while. I sat down on one of their sofas and did some journalling, reading etc. Then I got up to look at the departure screen and my book fell. The lady opposite me picked it up and commented on the fact I had been thumbing through my Bible. Her name is Elizabeth and she's part of a church just outside Copenhagen, so we got to chat about God and what an adventure it it following him. When we arrived in Copenhagen she and her husband Martin helped me find the train for Malmo!

I'm typing this from the library, or Stadsbibliotek, of which I'm now a member. It was one of the missions set by Emma to help me get used to life in the city. On the way I tried out my first bit of cycling on the right side of the road...very interesting.

Leaving on a Jetplane
So tomorrow I get on a plane and set off on a new adventure. I don't really know what the next few weeks or months will bring, but I'm trusting that everything will be okay.

From day to day I hear a lot of music I haven't heard before, but this particular band is really worthy of a blog post. Matisyahu are apparently huge in NYC and are fronted by a guy who is an Orthodox Jew (complete with beard) and refuses to play shows on Fridays. Check out their video King without a Crown.

Last night was Jennie's houseparty. The highlights for me were:
a) Geir somehow getting everyone in the place (with help from Steve) chanting "speech, speech, speech" at Jennie, to her complete surprise. (After all, what is an "English Party" without a speech?)
b) Having the twinge in my neck sorted out by Lorna, one of Jen's Chiropractic friends.
c) Getting to meet a whole bunch of new people.

Apparently this is how you tell if you've been in Sweden too long. I particularly like number 118.

It's been a long old day. I woke up at 5am yesterday. I'm now at the point where I feel really disorientated!

The good news is that it's bed time. Earlier I worked my last shift at Starbucks and in a week I will be in Malmo. This evening I hooked up with some people from work for a little farewell drink. The strange thing was that 3 out of 5 of us were Finnish.

Tomorrow is my Dad's birthday.
Good night.

I'm working my last two shifts at Starbucks today and tomorrow - a close followed by an open. The open shift starts at 6.30am, so my alarm sounds at 5am and by 6 I'm navigating the streets of Cardiff on my bike.

If I had a dime for every time I heard someone undermine the passion of someone who has just started following Jesus with statements like, "isn't it great when you're new to following Jesus..." I'd have a lot of foreign currency. Every time I hear it I feel as though someone is jabbing a knife between my ribs and turning it. My understanding of the life of a follower is it gets better with time - that we should expect that as our relationship deepens and we have more opportunities to see the Kingdom break through that our excitement and expectancy would increase.

Every time I hear it I'm reminded of the parable of the sower in Luke 8:4-8 and Jesus' explaination (here) that the different types of ground represent the responses of different people to the message of the Kingdom. In this particular situation I'm reminded of the thorny ground, which represents "those who hear and accept the message, but all too quickly the message is crowded out by the cares and riches and pleasures of this life. And so they never grow into maturity." That parable wasn't told for those who were cynics, for those who would never believe, but for those who did believe. It serves as a warning to us all - will we let the distractions that are thrown across our path, the troubles of this life, define us and our level of hope, or will we let them act as opportunities for growth (eg)?

One of my favourite cable channels is Turner Classic Movies (TCM). I've been using it to catch up on must-see movies that pre-date me, like House on Haunted Hill and Strangers on a Train. Tonight they're showing Blood Simple by Ethan and Joel Cohen.

While at Paddington Station, on our way back from Sweden, we got coffee from Costa Coffee. I asked for a Caramel Macchiato and received a cup with a couple of shots of espresso and a whole lot of caramel syrup. Yuck. The drink lacked the crucial ingredients of milk and vanilla syrup...

This morning, before work, I booked my ticket to Copenhagen, from where I will catch a train to Malmö and commence the next leg of my journey. Yesterday was great, catching up with friends, receiving prayer and encouraging words. It's really only just dawning on me that living in another country will mean being a long way from many people I hold dearly.

I'm in Bristol this weekend, hanging out with Mark G and friends and currently enjoying free wireless internet at Boston Tea Party. It's nice to visit this city that was my home last year, seeing how things have changed and hearing stories of what God has been up to.

Pedestrian Logic
I've noticed a strange phenomenon while riding back and fore along the Taff Trail. If you're riding along the cycle path and there's a pedestrian walking in the opposite direction, on the opposite side of the path, more often than not that person will change his or her path so they are walking directly towards you.

Yesterday I handed in my notice at McLatte, which means I will finish there on the 9th November, the day before my Dad's 51st birthday. They've been a really good team to work with.

Don't eat Norwegian fika
Gair tells me that fika, the Swedish word for going out for coffee and cake, describes the act of punching someone in Norway.

Confession
During the past few weeks I've had numerous conversations in which I've informed people that I'm "thinking about" moving to Sweden. In truth I should have said "planning to move" rather than "thinking about moving." I've held back a little on announcing this to the world as I needed space to figure it out.

Mark is such a great cook. This afternoon he russled us up a veggie roast dinner with fairtrade Chocolate and Cherry Cheesecake for desert. mmmmmmmm.

The guide book warned us that swedes are reserved and polite but nothing prepared us for the law abiding citizens we were to meet. They wait at the traffic lights until the green man appears (or sounds his 'tack, tack, tack, tack...'- perhaps thanking them for their patience), they don't cycle on pavements (at least not since a recent law on the topic was introduced), and they don't litter. Our theory was that the police there actually enforce those 'minor' laws that the police in the UK don't seem to have time to enforce.

Sweden
Well I’ve finally managed to sit still in front of this little computer for long enough to tell the stories of our trip to Sveringe. It began with a journey on the Megabus, a night in Stansted Airport and a Swedish stamp in my passport (I had to ask for it).

Malmö is lovely. It’s a city in which I felt immediately at home. From the falafel shops on every street to the parks, or the bike-culture that is so much part of the city.

We took day trips to Helsinborg and Halmstad, two towns on the west coast of Sweden and on the Sunday visited Copenhagen Vineyard.

Clubbing in Sweden
There is a new law in Sweden that prohibits smoking in clubs. My first instinct towards this was, “Yes! Finally I can go clubbing and be able to breathe.” Interestingly one of the side effects of the club no longer being filled with smoke is that the body odour of those on the dance floor becomes much more apparent. I hope they figure out how to change that soon…

Falafel
Not only is there a cycling culture in Malmö, there’s also a culture of falafel which has a lot to do with the great ethnic diversity of the place. Falafels, for those of you who don’t know, are deep fried balls of chickpea served in a flat bread wrap with salad and tzatziki or feta cheese. They are delicious and cost just 15kr (£1.10).

Fika
Fika is a word for the act of eating cake and drinking coffee. We did lots of this. Jag gillar att fika.

Liquorice
I love the fact that you can go into any grocery store and get liquorice. My favourite discoveries of this trip are salty liquorice chewing gum and liquorice flavour ice cream. Delicious.

I met Martin yesterday. Martin is the International Director of Starbucks. He is responsible for all Starbucks outside the USA. I decided to ask him about graduate opportunities within Starbucks. Apparently the standard way of progressing is to start as a Barista and to work your way up...

The last 48 or so hours have been some of the weirdest of my life. I ended up going to Sweden last week (more to follow) and flew back on Monday so that I could be at my Grandpa's funeral, which was yesterday. We knew that time was going to be tight, so hired a car so that we could speed up our journey form Stansted to Cardiff. However on arrival at Stansted I was asked for my driving licence and when I could only present the card section of it was told I couldn't have a car. Their insurance demands that they see a full paper and card driving licence.

This left us with one option - a bus to Paddington Station and then a train to Cardiff. Unfortunately the only train to Cardiff was at 5.45am on Tuesday morning, and this was 11.30pm Monday. So we endured one long night at Paddington and returned to Cardiff with very heavy eyelids.

The funeral was at 2pm, but we were getting together with family late morning so I arrived, ate breakfast, showered, donned my suit, and we made our way to Llanelli.

It was a very sad, but wonderful day celebrating the life of a much loved and godly man. It was amazing meeting people whose lives bore testimony to his pastoral care and insight. One of the things that really stood out was how people described him as a gentle, humble man. In a world of hard-nosed selfish ambition this really stands out.

I'm so tired right now that I'm sure I'm not doing justice to what I'm feeling, or balancing the priority of subject matter very well, but please forgive me.

My Grandpa died this morning. We think he was descending the stairs from the room at the back of his house where he used to go and pray. He must have lost his footing on the stairs, fallen and hit his head.

It’s strange talking about him in the past tense. Just a few weeks ago I was with him, sat, metaphorically, at his feet, asking questions about calling and living to the full. Thomas Ronald Morgan was a unique man, genuine, humble and passionately in love with Jesus. He loved people and chose to see the best in them, even when some would consider him naïve to do so. Towards the end of his life, he nursed my Grandma as her Alzheimer’s progressed, modelling the kind of unwavering love that you really don’t see every day.

My Grandpa was both an inspiration and a friend and he will certainly be missed.

When The Roll is Called Up Yonder
When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound, and time shall be no more,
And the morning breaks, eternal, bright and fair;
When the saved of earth shall gather over on the other shore,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

When the roll, is called up yon-der,
When the roll, is called up yon-der,
When the roll, is called up yon-der,
When the roll is called up yonder I’ll be there.

On that bright and cloudless morning when the dead in Christ shall rise,
And the glory of His resurrection share;
When His chosen ones shall gather to their home beyond the skies,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

Let us labour for the Master from the dawn till setting sun,
Let us talk of all His wondrous love and care;
Then when all of life is over, and our work on earth is done,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
(James M. Black)

I have a job!
I mentioned in a previous post that my life consisted of interviews and paperwork. Well I've just got a job with Starbucks, which should keep me going while I figure out the questions of, "If not Cardiff, where? And how?"

Many of you will know my (prior) thoughts on Starbucks, so I'm interested to investigate questions of ethical standards and marketing techniques. So far I've been pleasantly surprised...

Today I crossed the River Severn in order to pick up my suit etc from Tom and Nic's house and to catch up with the fair people of Bristol Vineyard. BV are celebrating their 10th anniversary this week and the finale of the week is a Saturday Night Fever theme party - sounds like fun, although I'll be at a wedding that day. The trip was also a chance to meet this year's Form team, who hail from California, Denmark, Norway and Norwich.

At the moment my days consist of interviews and paperwork. It's a routine, if a strange one. As you might have heard, Mark and I are heading to Sweden in early October. It should be a lot of fun catching up with friends (eg., eg. and eg.) and visiting Copenhagen Vineyard.

This morning I went for another contact lens trial. The last time was 3 years ago when the optician didn't allow me to take the lenses away with me because I couldn't put them in or take them out by myself.

This time I managed to put on the lenses, but could not get the things out. I'm going back in a week to give it another go...

Some mornings I wake up and I feel like a child looking at a big, cold, scary world that I'm ill equipped to deal with. My mind is drawn to people and places I've left behind, people I've felt so incredibly close to, people I believed I could do this kingdom work with. Then I wipe the sleep from these childish eyes, clench my teeth, and take a look beyond my self, my fears, the dull aches of distant friends, into the eyes of the one who doesn't leave, the one who calls me 'beloved.'

Ofcom bans Make Poverty History advert for being "too political."

The advert received no complaints from the general public and was essentially banned because it challenged the way our government, and governments of other Western European countries, approach poverty. How crap is that? (Read More)

View the advert here.

I've been listening to two great Icelandic bands recently - Múm and Sigur Rós. Their music is probably best described as enchanting.

This week has been interesting. I've had interviews and I've done some cycle couriering. On Monday Rob and I went to a training day with Bristol Vineyard where we enjoyed spending some time with Eric Sandras as he taught on The Four Stages of Love by Bernard of Clairvaux.

I've been pushing lots of doors when it comes to work and living location. It's been one of those times where I know what I can't do, but am eager to find some doors that I should walk through!

Even Though
Even though I can't see the sun through these clouds
I know it still shines
Even though I can't feel Your love through this pain
I know You're alive

Even though I can't understand
Why this storm still blows, and
Even though I can't hear Your voice
I love Your rain

Even though I can't see the way up ahead
I know that You lead
Even though I can't feel Your presence now
I know I believe

Who can measure Your greatness
Who can count all Your faithfulness
Who can doubt that Your presence
Silences every lie

Yesterday I sampled the delights of Spin and Pilates. Spin is like mountain biking in a low ceiling'd room surrounded by men with hairy backs on exercise bikes. Unfortunately the likeness to mountainbiking is limited to the muscles you use - there is no adrenaline, there are no views, there is no fun.

Pilates, on the other hand, pretty fun and relaxing.

Has anyone seen my Iron Fist?
Somehow I've mislaid one of my t-shirts. It's navy, has a pink square and daubs of white paint on the front and an image of Bruce Lee on the back. It's nice, is made by Iron Fist and can be seen in this photo. If you've seen it lying around please let me know...

For years I've watched them swoop around Cardiff City centre with all the grace and precision of a dancer (and I'm not talking tap). I've admired them from afar and thought: "maybe - one day..." Tomorrow I'm off for an interview/chat at a cycle messenger company in Cardiff.

At the moment I'm enjoying...
Lost - billed as 'survivor with actors.' I anticipated a let down after all the media hype, but have been plesantly surprised. It's actually pretty intriguing. One of my favourite plots (despite being highly contrived) is Jack's growing awareness of his leadership "call" - my favourite quote so far (though paraphrased) comes from Mr Lock:
"You say you're not a leader, but they follow you."

I'm also enjoying Newsfan, the news aggregator that is saving me a lot of browse-time. For those of you who don't know what an aggregator does, you type in the RSS feeds of your friends' websites and within about 4 seconds Newsfan tells you who has posted something new.
Update: I've actually changed to Mozilla's Thunderbird because it turns out Newsfan was just a 15 day demo...

Finally, I'm enjoying learning some more Swedish.

My broadband connection has been down for the last 36ish hours, hence the lack of posting. My Grandad is very ill, so your prayers would be much appreciated. It's his birthday today and he's been rushed into hospital.

fruktstund
Zoë and I are pretty ill, so we've been munching on a lot of fruit in the hopes of speeding up our recovery. My favourites are fresh pinapple, mango, honeydew melon and grapes.

Anarchy vs. Liberalism
I was chatting with a friend from Sweden last week who was telling me about her 'freshers' fortnight' (weeks before uni starts properly where there are lots of parties.) Apparently at her university, during this time, there are rules that place limits on alcohol consumption and freshers are not allowed to kiss. It all stems from an incident 3 years ago where a student was raped.

Initially hearing this was a surprise - particularly with the reputation Sweden has for being ultra-liberal - but on further reflection it makes sense. Liberalism is not anarchy. It's not licence to do whatever you please. Rorty defines a liberal as, "someone who believes the worst thing you can do is harm another human being." Within this definition the rules enforced at this particular campus, while seemingly strict, are actually an outworking of a liberally-minded culture, a culture that puts caring for its members before licensing their untethered freedom.

In the UK such a big deal is never made out of single incidents of rape, but that is probably just a reflection on the draconian inequality of our society.

Check this bit of anti-Mac propaganda (via Ian). It made me chuckle, but not hate my mac.

A couple of things that have gone on in the last few days...

Maintaining with Jurassic 5
Last night we saw J5 at Bristol Academy, the last night of their European Tour. They were great and the sound was set up really well (you could make out their lyrics clearly). Chali 2na has to be one of the greatest rappers out there. Nu-Mark completely rocked, but I was disappointed Cut Chemist didn't show.

Risk
I played Risk on Sunday night with Zoe, Viv, Rob, Chris and Ian, which was a lot of fun and became very heated at times. Fortunately no one was injured.

Dead Man's Shoes
Is a horrible film with a great soundtrack (on Warp Records). It's a British movie in which one man takes revenge on behalf of his brother. I made the mistake of watching it when in a mildly melancholic mood and seriously regretted it by the end.

Last night was Zoë's surprise 21st Birthday party, which I think we have did a pretty good job of concealing over the past few months. We were at Journeys on Upper Clifton Street for eating, drinking, toasting, mingling, all to the backdrop of some great breaks and beats (thanks Dan and Ian). It was great chilling out with friends new and old.

Afterwards a group of us ended up at Moloko in the Cafe Quarter for some Funk ("I believe in miracles baby..."), Breakbeat, Foosball, and Flaming Sambucas. I hooked up with some old friends from (primary!) school and early clubbing days, which was real nice. We danced like there was no tomorrow and hypothesised over why girls spend so much time in the toilet (are they actually having some female-only secret party?)

One of the conversations of the evening revolved around how Dan and I first got to know each other. First there was the family connection (I have a vague recollection of Dan and I scaring his cousin with glow in the dark teeth), but that doesn't explain our present day friendship. I think it boils down to some event where I started chatting to him ("you probably don't remember me but ...[insert said glow in the dark teeth story]...") Somehow we ended up DJing together at houseparties (including the infamous one at Angel's place which, as Dan recalled last night "was like something out of a movie").

Happy Birthday Zoë!

From yesterday's Bread for the Journey:
Every time we make the decision to love someone, we open ourselves to great suffering, because those we love most cause us not only great joy but also great pain. The greatest pain comes from leaving. When the child leaves home, when the husband or wife leaves for a long period of time or for good, when the beloved friend departs to another country or dies...the pain of the leaving can tear us apart.
Still, if we want to avoid the suffering of leaving, we will never experience the joy of loving. And love is stronger than fear, life stronger than death, hope stronger than despair. We have to trust that the risk of loving is always worth taking.
for more click here

It's getting late. Last night Chris beat me at Chess twice. He sent me this picture of Zoë and I to commiserate. Tonight we were out for a family meal to celebrate Zoë's 21st Birthday and my parents' 25th Wedding Anniversary.

My favourite band of the day is !!!, whose name was chosen "because it reflects the excitement shared by the band members, mixed with an intense desire to shake things up" and is allegedly pronounced 'Chk Chk Chk,' or with "any three repeated sounds". Their music is fun, funky, punky and great to shake that bootie to.

I love Skype - being able to keep in touch with people around the world for free (to other broadband users) or minimal charge (to phones).

Liquorice Spotlight
So the discussion on liquorice continues thanks to Tom's last-week-at-work news reading. Who'd have thought that such a seemingly innocent and delicious snack could cause:
- Premature birth
- Chronic fatigue
- Headaches
- "Swelling"
- Muscle failure
- High Blood Pressure
- Loss of sex drive in men?
And it's all apparently thanks to glycyrrhizic acid.
This story - of the woman who OD'd on Pontefract Cake and was treated at Pontefract General Infirmary (the world centre for liquorice related illness?) was definately the most bizarre.

Will I withdraw my claims of salty liquorice being a superior snack? No chance.

Is it really possible to save the world through the medium of turntable like this guy does? (via biz)

I drove to Llanelli yesterday to visit my Grandpa. It was really nice to have the time to chat with him alone and to pick his brains on questions of calling, leadership, growing up and love. One of the things I'm always struck by is the kind of unwavering love he has for my Grandma, who suffers from Alzheimer's disease.

Theology or not?
For a while I've been pondering whether I should take some time to study theology in a formal setting as the kick start to a life of study. Some would say that by "going away to an ivory tower" and filling your head with knowledge doesn't really prepare you for pastoral work. On the other hand I would love to gain a deeper understanding of scriptures that would equip me to better teach.

Then there's the question of where - in the UK or US?

Do you love your iBook this much?

For snack food I really don't think you can beat salty liquorice and lingonberry juice.

Goodbye Ida, the Trusty Justy, and using Sofia's cosmetics...
Yesterday was an interesting old day. I drove Emelie (in Mark's Trusty Justy) to Stansted for her flight back to Sweden. It was a long trip that started like a roadtrip and ended with a goodbye (I hate goodbyes). When I arrived back in Bristol Mark fed me curry, we chatted, ate salty licquorice and exchanged cosmetics (more accurately he gave me some things Sofia had left behind (due to luggage restrictions) asking "would your sister use these?" to which I responded "I don't know, but I will!") So thank you Sofia, that facewash and hair stuff was just what I needed!

Today I moved my stuff out of the Pink House and drove back to Cardiff.

Some people tell me my blog's interesting. I say "no." But I did drink root beer yesterday.

There are some things I should have posted a while ago, like the fact that Sarcasmo.co.uk exists, and that Banksy has been on a Middle Eastern adventure.

Tuesday was pretty painful on the aural faculties as our listening in the shop consisted of Justin Timberlake's 'Justified' twice, Alisha Keys three times, and some equally as bad extracts from the Forest Gump soundtrack a couple of times over. Needless to say this mental torture wasn't self inflicted.

I'm in Bristol again following a brief but pleasant jaunt to Cardiff and am here until Tuesday...

While I'm here, does anyone have any tips on how to embed pesky fonts that won't embed in pdfs?

Peace out.

The M-Store
I'm in Cardiff working a couple of shifts at the M-Store before returning to Bristol Wednesday night or Thursday morning. It's been real good hooking up with some Cardiff peeps.

Check this out!
Ben's put up some nice pics of peeps in Bristol.

I'm still alive, though have been out of wireless connection for a few days. My email address is changing, so if you haven't received an email from me updating you on my 'new' address please leave a comment and I'll get back to you.

On Saturday we had planned to head to Bristol Academy to hear (and dance to) some Drum'n'Bass, but instead found ourselves on Severn Beach. Sunday was Kubb on the Downs which got rained off (and were thus 'forced' to retire to the pub). Last night Mark and I went ice skating with some new friends.

The future may be blurry, but I'm sure it'll be exciting.

All That Matters
You are all that matters
All that satisfies
All that gives me life
And stands the test of time
You are my portion
My only passion
You mean everything to me
by Eoghan Heaslip

Who is Ben Lee?
This is an odd post because I'm not usually quick to admit to musical ignorance. For the past three years I've been listening to a few tracks that I found somewhere, somehow by a guy called Ben Lee. I assumed discovering his music was the kind of freak incident that happens when you use the internet too much and love finding new music, but it appears not. I arrived home the other night and notice a piece of paper on my Dad's desk which read:

Ben Lee "Awake Is The New Sleep"

And today discovered that he heard this guys music while walking around Cribbs Causeway (shopping mall in Bristol). Maybe I'm the only person who finds this weird...

Sat in the jacuzzi at my Mum's health club and these two older ladies get in and we're chatting away (mostly about pets dying, but chatting none the less). Anyways my Mum is on my right and the lady on my left asks: "is that your girlfriend?"

So I'm in Cardiff spending time with family and friends and trying to figure out what the immediate future holds. It's a crazy journey trying to figure out where God is taking you, but it's exciting.

Monday saw the return of the Form people from their trip to Anaheim and it was great catching up with Emma and Emelie, hearing some of their stories. On Tuesday I took Emelie to New Wine and ended up in Venue, which is being run by the guys from Trent Vineyard and replaces the Em Church venue I was working in last year. This time around it was full to bursting and they opened up the sides of the tent so that people could sit outside.

I'm participating in a slightly less than common occupation right now - utilising wireless internet outdoors. And in an area where theives are operating...maybe I should put the ole ibook away before it gets swiped. Does this count as an adventure sport?

Domestic god(ess)
Mark 'Adonis' Evans has (finally) decided to enlighten the world with his brand of culinary excellence! click here

Last Day
Today is my last day in the Bristol Vineyard office. I always find the prospect of leaving somewhere that I've had sustained proximity with brings out an odd sentimentality. In reality it will be people that I'll miss more than the office space.

Doppelganger
I'm stood in the bank and one of the ladies comes up to me...
"Hi, Steve?"
And for a second I wonder if I'm one of Bristol's most wanted or something.
I frown back, looking confused.
"Oh, sorry, you look just like this guy I was in uni with.."
"Oh, where were you at uni?" I reply, for no obvious reason (I mean it wasn't like I was about to recall that yes when I lived in that particular town I was called Steve)
"Bath Spa"
"Ah, I was at Cardiff..." (apologetic tone in voice)
"Well, you've got a double out there!"

For some nice party hip hop mixes check out Roy's site. I can't believe it was 4 and a half years ago he played at my 18th birthday party - time flies.

Reckless Abandon
Some people find it difficult letting go of their inhibitions and acting like a child. I’m not one of those people. One example of this is when I went to Cardiff with Emma and Dave and managed to talk them into running up a steep muddy slope with only sandals on their feet and then running down barefoot. It was kind of painful because of the tree roots, but was a lot of fun. We drove home muddy and satisfied that we had adventured.

Another of these occasions happened yesterday. We were all set to head to Ashton Court festival, which I’m told, is a forum for local Bristol talent with a few crowd pullers headlining. I was in the car with Dave and Lois and we were queueing in the diverted traffic and we noticed the sign to Weston Super Mare and decided the beach rocks far more than the prospect of seeing a bunch of bands we’d never heard of. It would also give us an affinity with our friends who are currently sunning themselves over in Southern California (grrr). When we arrived we headed straight for the water and noticed that the closer we got the deeper our feet sank into the mud. So I suggested we sprint across the mud until we reach the sea. We did it, got completely filthy, and wandered back towards the sand. Strangely between our arrival and our walk back from the water someone had put some signs up which announced “Danger, Sinking Mud,” or perhaps we just didn’t notice them… Things we also did: ate chips and Ben & Jerry’s (Cookie Dough flavour), buried Dave with sand, drove Dave’s mini around the beach (I like driving over sandcastles!) and watched the sun set.

Very topical
(thanks to Mark)

It's strange to think that I only have another two weeks living in the Pink House. This year has been crazy, I've learned a lot, often unexpected things, and I'm that little bit closer to doing what I'm made for!

The next fortnight is about intensive soul searching and prayer working out the next step and maybe even the one after that should God so oblige. There are a number of options which have arisen and which I'm sure would be formative, but right now it's a case of asking, among all the nice ideas, "Lord, what do you want?"

What is it with British people?
When it's raining, it's too wet.
When it's hot, it's too hot.

The weirdest thing happened on Saturday...
The Form people were on their way to the airport and I was hanging out with Dave and Mark (a welshman and two africans). We went to this park overlooking the suspension bridge to play frisbee, and as we approached our destination Mark (who was ahead of us) shouts, "you're not going to believe this guys..." There were some people playing Kubb! We thought we were the only people in Bristol who had heard of this crazy game, but it appears it's spreading.

We joined their game and actually won two in a row (The Dream Team strikes again!)

The sun is shining, the weather is sweet (though usually, whenever I mention the sunny weather on my blog clouds and rain appear). Ian (web guru and general nice guy) rocks - yesterday he helped me fix some of the coding on my blog (not without some disciplinary words at my laziness).

Rowland and the Formettes head to Anaheim tomorrow for their final ministry trip (working with the compassion teams at Anaheim Vineyard), so I guess this is goodbye. I'm praying God completely rocks their worlds.

Gluttony
This week I've been laying low on the ice cream eating front. Last week saw me participating in the consumption of five tubs of Ben and Jerry's (for those of you who are interested: 3 Chocolate Fudge Brownie, 2 Phish Food). Surely that's not right?

As has Sofia...

Emelie has (finally) joined the blogging world.

We watched Garden State yesterday, a movie I would 100% recommend. The charm of the film is its honesty, it's willingness to explore a broad range of real issues from the complications of family life to the systematised and legal 'drugging' of our western societies. It seems to mimic the span of emotions that your average human experiences from day to day.

An interesting concept that arises gravitates around the issue of Home as aspiration, or figment of memory, rather than reality. Andrew (Zach Braff) hypothesizes that maybe family are just people who long for "the same imaginary place." This line of thought is brought to a satisfying conclusion at the end, but I won't spoil it for you...
(Disclaimer: I didn't re-read this post before publishing it the first time round, so there was unforgivable repitition. Sorry!)

Tonight will be an interesting experience - a goodbye party for some of my closest friends of 2005 - the form team. They're off to Anaheim Vineyard next weekend to spend a fortnight helping out with their compassion ministries before returning to their respective countries (at least within 36 hours of returning to the UK).

I hate goodbyes. Is it the Purpose Driven Life that talks about us being created for eternity, hence why it is odd living with a series of close but short-term relationships? I guess it's only been in the last 200 years that people would relocate so easily. Before that we were pretty content with a life of friendships in a community of relatively modest size.

I see planting a church as a long term, if not permanent commitment to a particular place (ala Peterson). The question is: is it possible to minister effectively to a society in which your way of life is so different to those around you? Are we called to model healthy, long term community, or to simply buy into the continent hopping lifestyles of our peers?

Ok, that was two questions...

Check out this little movie courtesy of Mosaic.

The worship leaders' retreat at the weekend was in Lee Abbey, in Devon, right by the sea. It's always nice waking up and hearing the sea rather than the motorway. We were only there for about 30 hours, and the weather had broken on Thursday night, but it didn't stop us making the most of walks to the sea, or nearby cliffs.

On Saturday we hooked up with Pete Beaumont and visited the local pub at nearby Lynmouth where they were airing Wimbledon to the soundtrack of Ace of Spades by Motorhead - a unique combination.

The Banquet in the Bearpit was great fun. I took a bunch of people into Broadmead Shopping Centre and we wandered around offering prayer. Whereas last time we went out giving cards which offered prayer for healing and waited for people to come to us, this time we went to people and explained who we are and what we were doing and had quite a few good opportunities to pray with people. I love that stuff.

Well, another week of being pretty slack on the blogging front - apologies to all. It's been another whirling dervish of a week, from 'running' down the steep slopes at Castell Coch with Dave and Emma on Saturday to the coming weekend which will include both a Worship Leaders' Retreat and the Banquet in the Bearpit.

The weather is awesome and made playing of more Kubb and Ultimate Frisbee possible on Sunday afternoon at the Downs (none of that 'touch rugby' for me).

Monday night we had a Point Break night at Emma's place which included the use of the in-house 'Swayze' (a scruffy blonde mullet wig reminiscent of Patrick Swayze's hair in the film). Check out the gallery for more on this one.

Last week I had a dream that Jack Johnson turned up at one of our Sunday meetings. The funny thing was that it was Zoë who pointed him out to me and said "hey, look, it's Jack Johnson." I went over to him while he was getting a coffee and doughnut and introduced myself. He was like, "cool man," and decided to hang out with us in the afternoon when we were playing frisbee in the sun.

I didn't tell him that I knew who he was because I didn't want to look like I was putting him up on a pedestal.

This week has been strange and I haven't felt much like blogging. There have been some great moments and I know God has been completely at work, but at the same time some confusing times.

For example last night Chris called me to let me know that one of the guys we were in college with died in his sleep at some point last week. I was by no means one of his closest friends. We had had some great conversations while at college and I would certainly consider him more than just an aquaintance. The thing that really hit me about his death was that life is so fragile and that the people we know and love are so precious and deserve to know that.

I was left feeling pretty confused as I cycled home - what right do I have to piggy-back my emotional journey on the back of this young man's death? How should this inform the way that I live? Am I just a hopeless melancholic?

Friend's photos:
Mark Churchill
Emma Nordeborn
Mark Evans

I seem to have been learning tons about myself in the past fortnight. At times it's been painful, and at times liberating, but I think the overall effect will be good. A lot of it involves relinquishing control, letting God direct my life, instead of holding things tightly like some spoiled child.

It's interesting being surrounded by people who are on a similar journey, of quesitioning, listening and trying to quiet the voice which says, "take control, it's your life." It's time to quiet my hectic inner life.

No more cake
When I said I was trying to give up control I didn't mean self control, but with the amount of cake flying around the office the last few days it's been difficult to resist.

This weekend I learned another new game. On Saturday we went to a field overlooking Clifton Suspension Bridge and played the Swedish game of Kubb, which involves throwing pieces of wood at pieces of wood in an attempt to knock them down.

I was stoked because I was reasonably good at it and my team kept winning (which never happens the first time you play a game like say [the cursed] Settlers of Catan).

We got asked to move pitches because the five of us were making too much noise for the 80 or so people who were watching an open air production of Shakespeare's As You Like It, and soon noticed that as people were walking by they were rubber-necking at this unknown game.

Eventually Emelie invited some guys who were walking by to join us (hi Jamie, David and Richard) for some increasingly multinational play (African, Scottish, Welsh, Swedish, Danish (natch), and English). After many hours of Kubb and the obligatory exchange of national songs, dances and swear words we retired to the pub for drinks with our new friends.

You spin me right round baby, right round
About a month ago I sat down with Andrew and told him of my plans to move back to Cardiff, to do some web-design and to find some cheap accommodation. I figured it was time to make some decisions so that's what I did.

Today all I can say it that God has messed things up. I don't know what I'm going to be doing next year, let alone where. And for now that's all I can say. It's exciting and scary (when isn't following Jesus exciting and scary?) and I feel my sense of adventure coming back!

Going to love You through the pain
I'm trying to be like You
You're the truth I can't deny
Gonna find my peace in You
Gonna love You when it hurts
(and) Put my trust in You
You're everything to me
I give it all to You
(Falling in love with You - Sam Lane)

The houseparty was a lot of fun. Team USA (Steve's ministry team) taught us Ultimate Frisbee, which I managed to corrupt fairly quickly into Ultimate Frisbee Extreme - a full contact version of the original (think Rugby meets Frisbee). No Risk playing took place as it was 11pm before a game could potentially begin and no one was up for 5 hours of world domination.

Steve had some great things to talk about, including how fear-based-thinking holds us back from kingdom risk-taking. As an example he used The Spartans, who trained themselves against fear and had success beyond their numbers when fighting the Persian army.

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good!
His faithful love endures for ever.
(Psalm 118, The Bible)

This is probably my last post before the weekend. Tomorrow we have a training day with Steve Nicholson, which should be a lot of fun. After that we head to Yeovil en mass for the Bristol Vineyard houseparty.

As you can see I decided to go with a bit of a redesign, which I'm dedicating to a summer of fun...

I initially made the mistake of working on the site while in a fairly melancholic mood and ended up with the title "Being and Nothingness, a guide to pragmatic existentialism."

The design is by no means perfect, but I needed a change, had limited time and couldn't bare to use a McBlogger© template.

The Muffin Man

I'm working on Cutting Edge UK today with Sim of Edge Creative. His regular muffin missions to Maks, the cafe three doors down, has earned him the nickname 'Muffin Man.'

We went to Teohs for a meal last night and for the first time this year caught a taxi. We arrived, alighted from the cab, watched it drive off and I suddenly realised that I had left my coat (inc. house and office keys) in the car.

I called the taxi company on arriving home and the driver happened to be right there next to the phone. "No, no coat left in my car," said the voice at the other end of the line.

I called back this morning and was told that I would need to talk to the night receptionist who works after 7pm.

Doesn't it just make you sick?

To my friends: do any of you use Skype? If so, email me your username.

We're working through a series on Isaiah on Sunday mornings at Bristol Vineyard which is accompanied by these daily readings. Some of the questions which have come up have been very challenging. For example how does the fact that God uses the Assyrians as an axe against Israel and then punishes them for the privilege affect the way in which we understand his character? Is divine justice somehow different to our western liberal brand? How is it possible for wrath and mercy to be accurate characteristics of one being? Why would a God of mercy choose to prevent people from receiving his healing as he does here (and echoed here)?

Tea set politics
Helping out at the mums group on Thursday mornings has given me an interesting insight into how toddlers interact. You can take a group of children who on their own are lovely and, by placing them in the context toy sharing, unleash utter chaos.

Last week there was a dispute over spoons. Megan owns a plastic tea set in which there are four cups, four spoons, four saucers, a sugar bowl and milk jug. Each of the duplicate items are identical. Nevertheless this small group of toddlers was somehow drawn to one of the four spoons over and above all others.

It seems that the fact that someone else wants something gives it value beyond all identical somethings. Could this be one of the principles that we've built an entire economic model on?

Jon Matthias recommends

On Wednesday afternoon I announced to the group that the following Friday the plan was to head for the city centre, give out chocolate and offer prayer for healing. Reactions were varied, but the feeling of nervous excitement and curiosity was shared.

Friday morning came and we had a time of worshipping God, asking Him to equip us for whatever might be ahead. There was a deep sense of his presence, that he was bringing us together as a group, uniting us and preparing us.

The setup involved two chairs with a sign saying "prayer for healing" draped across. We passed out chocolate and flyers in groups of two. The flyers expressed that we believe in a generous God who can heal (etc.)

Curiosity levels were high - people asking what we were doing, gratefully receiving their chocolate. One of the highlights of the afternoon was seeing one man really moved by God as Rowland and Sofia prayed for him right there on the street.

Ian is a complete star and has built an RSS Parser for all the Cardiff Vineyard blogs. For those of you asking "what's one of those?" visit it here.

I'm so glad it's a bank holiday and that the weather is nice. Yesterday was a crazy day - with band in the morning and then a ministry trip with Andrew and the Formettes to St Barnabas Church in Finchley.

On Friday night we watched The Motorcycle Diaries, the story of two friends traveling South America on the back of an old motorbike. The youngest of the duo, Ernesto Guevara (later Che Guevara), is transformed by his experiences as he rubs shoulders with the poor, from leprosy patients to those unjustly ousted from their land. The film draws its viewers to see life through the eyes of young Ernesto and as a result bypasses some of the more 'political' directions that a narrative of this nature could take. The focus is life and its value, rather than the promotion of political ideals.

Now I must get back to the sun...

Yesterday we handed out chocolate on Gloucester Road. On each bar was a sticker which read: "This is our simple way of saying that God loves you."

My favourite quote came from Emma:
"They may not believe in God, but everyone believes in free chocolate."

I've been running around like a bit of a headless chicken today. Nic is ill, so I'm looking after Rowland and the Formettes for the next two weeks, which should be a lot of fun.

Garageband has become my new favourite piece of software. I love the fact that you can take a basic demo and turn it into something resembling a professional recording.

BTW Ben has an interesting blog on the go, which is guaranteed to satisfy fans of the frequently updated website.

Saturday was all about chilling. As the weather wasn't great we visited the mummies in Bristol Museum, drank coffee, and ascended the Cabot Tower.

Speaking of coffee, when we arrived at The Boston Teaparty, one of the best coffee houses in Bristol, it was completely rammed. We went for a stroll, came back and it was still standing room only, so, consumed by thirst, we decided to visit the monstrosity that is Starbucks. Stood in the queue I decided that I would have a fairtrade latte. At the counter I was quickly informed that, unfortunately the only fairtrade coffee available was filter coffee. I succumbed.

How can it be that an independent coffee company like 'Boston' can offer all varieties of coffee made with their 'Revolution' (fairtrade) beans and yet the superpower that is Starbucks only offer fairly traded filter coffee?

It seems that Megan is getting more and more animated the closer she gets to her 2nd birthday. Steve taught her that when you place your clenched fist in front of her and say "respect" she clenches her fist and taps it against yours.

Yesterday I was trying to teach her to say "dude." The exchange went something like this:
"Megan, can you say dude?"
She points at me, a big smile on her face.
"Megan, can you say dude?"
She points at me again...

Yesterday I stumbled across one of the many mysteries of the blogging world. I was reading Eddie's blog for the first time in months and noticed this post, in which he announces that he's bo be married in a matter of months. The last time I read Eddie's blog he was talking about the struggles of being single, so you can imagine how surprised I was to learn not only is he going out with someone, but he is to be wed. Judging from comments he received I wasn't the only one.

Anyhow this got me thinking about the public nature of blogging and the fact that, particularly if you are embarking on a relationship, you will be reluctant to divulge details until you are sure of where you stand with the other person - after all you don't want the world knowing your feelings and assumptions when they do not, and you don't want to find yourself communicating with them via the medium of blog.

As a result we find these shocking marriage announcements from people who, as far as we knew, were grappling with what it means to be content and single!

On Saturday I went to Cardiff with Bill for a Myers Briggs day with the cv leadership team. It was great fun learning some more about myself and how I think, and why other people think the way they do. Here are my results:

ENFJ
Extravert I get energy from being with people.
iNtuitive I'm more inclined towards the big picture than fine detail.
Feeling When a problem arises involving people I like to dive in and solve it rather than to stand back and look at it dispassionately.
Judging I value order above spontaneity.

Ethics vs. Customer Service
While I was at home over Easter I visited a H&M store with Zoë. Ever since I heard about H&M, and the low prices of their clothing, I believed that at some stage in the production chain individuals must be suffering. I mean you just can't offer t-shirts for £3 and guarantee that producers in the third world aren't receiving a raw deal. Right?

So while Zoë was trying on some garments I decided to make some enquiries.
"Hi there, I was wondering if you have any information on the origins of your clothes?" I asked the girl at the counter.
As she looked at me, processing my question, I caught a glimpse of what was going on behind her eyes: 'ok, ok, question I don't understand, pretend you have some idea of what's just been asked' (smiles, pretends to make a phonecall, wanders around the store appearing to make enquiries of her co-workers, comes back, whispers in the ear of the guy at the till next to her)
So the guy leans over and asks, "what do you want?"
"I was just wondering if you have any information on the conditions under which your clothes are produced?"
(In broad Cardiff accent) "Mate, do you really need to know?"
"Well, yeah, I'd like to know..."
(Wanders around for a few minutes in similar fashion to his colleague, then comes back shaking his head)
I decide to throw him some rope..."Do you have an email address for someone who would know?"
(Wanders around for a few minutes before returning) "Yeah mate, www.h&m."

On checking out the website I discovered this - clear information on their ethical concerns. Finally!

"Strange things are afoot at the Circle K..." (Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure)

I've been in the office the past two days and each day a strange thing has happened:

Tuesday
A guy comes in who visits at least once a week for a cup of tea and a chat. Anyhow this time he's telling me all kinds of bad things that are going on in his life. I'm listening and listening and he's getting more and more worked up, then goes into a lull of emotion, then carries on. So I'm listening and I'm praying: "Lord, what should I do? Should I offer to pray for him?" I felt that the answer was "yes" so I waited for a lull and asked, "hey, can I pray for you?" To which he replied, "no...in fact I'm offended at that" and walks straight out slamming the door behind him.

Wednesday
Three kids with Irish accents come into the office asking "what do you do here?" so Grace explains that it is the office of a church. The smallest of the boys is wandering around and one of the others is calling "Pete, come back here..." I notice that he's heading back towards my desk and decide to follow him, arriving just in time to see him turn around quickly and walk back out towards the front door. I scower my (rather untidy) desk to see what is missing and twig just in time that my phone isn't there. I make my way towards the front door, but I'm not completely certain that my phone was even on my desk and am wary of grabbing an eight year old boy and demanding my phone off him for all the legal implications. So I literally watch them leave and inform Grace, "I'm sure that kid just stole my phone." In the back of my mind I'm trying to look on the bright side - 'at least my life will be more simple...'

Five minutes pass and the little boy returns, two phones in hand. He tells Grace, "I'm sorry I took these phones, I thought they were toys."

Ingredients for a Risk night:
- Doritos
- Salsa dip
- Dr. Pepper
- Joosters

Job prospects?
Apparently it is possible to earn a living by blogging. (via)

Heroes
One of the pioneers of just treatment in the mills of England was a welshman called Robert Owen. Unlike his counterparts Owen was concerned not only with making money, but with establishing a community in which people could realise their full potential. He fought against young children being allowed to work in the mills and treated those in his employment well. As he did this he discovered that the response that these people had to being treated in this way was working harder!

GOD enters the courtroom.
He takes his place at the bench to judge his people.
GOD calls for order in the court,
hauls the leaders of his people into the dock:

"You've played havoc with this country.
Your houses are stuffed with what you've stolen from the poor.
What is this anyway?
Stomping on my people, grinding the faces of the poor into the dirt?"

That's what the Master,
GOD-of-the-Angel-Armies, says.
(Isaiah 3:13-15 in The Message)

I'm back in the office today, finishing some work on the next edition of cutting edge. It was really nice to be at home last week, although in the pause, where there was more space to think, my mind kind of went into overdrive thinking about the future.

I've finally started reading The Contemplative Pastor by Eugene Peterson. I love the way that he defines the role of pastor not as 'someone who runs a church,' but as someone whose task it is to call people into the life of another Kingdom, and to unravel what that means in the midst of day to day life.

Currently listening to...

Easter
I'm enjoying hanging out in Cardiff this week. The easter weekend was fun - spending time with Rob and Mark over the weekend, chilling out with the family, walking in the park.

On Monday Emelie came over with Mia, her friend from Sweden and we did the tourist thang - we visited Cardiff Castle (see photos). It's always fun seeing Cardiff through the eyes of a visitor - the surprise at finding a castle and acres and acres of grassland bang in the middle of the city.

Tomorrow I'm hanging out with my little sis - something I don't get to do as much as I'd like.

My Sister

courtesy of Mark

Sometimes it's hard being true to yourself. This morning I received an application form and job description from a Christian organisation who are looking for a lobbyist. For a moment I was tempted - a good salary, a variety of political responsibilities and the opportunity to stretch myself.

The problem is that in recent years I've become less and less convinced that the Church's role is to pursuade politicians to formulate policies which force those who aren't followers of Jesus to act as though they are. That just oozes a Christendom mindset, the need to assert power on a political level.

I believe we are called to be a voice for the voiceless and to be actively involved in addressing justice, but I'm not too worried about us 'followers of The Way' getting marginalised in society. We might even rediscover the radical way of life that Jesus calls us to!

The B-movies that are shown on channel five (UK) have three main plots...

Plot 1
A plane flight crash, survivors left in a remote and icy location, two of them survive but not without the need for amputative surgery on their toes to deal with the frostbite they have suffered. Happily ever after (they generally leave the story of their recovery sans-toes to the imagination).

Plot 2
When she hears that her daughter is unable to have children, X offers to carry the child on her behalf. The tale of love, joy and tension that this incurrs.

Plot 3
A 'cop' whose partner was killed in action goes in search of revenge.

Have I missed any out?

Drinking Beer with Vikings
We had a great weekend hanging out at Copenhagen Vineyard. They are a great bunch of people, mostly around my age and lots of whom are fairly new to following Jesus. God showed up in power on both Saturday and Sunday and it was a great privilege to bless what He was doing.

Things I liked about Denmark:
- Big, powerful showers.
- Wood burning stoves that heat the houses.
- Architecture.
- Comprehensive bike lanes.
- Snow (that actually sticks).
- Copenhagen Vineyard.
- Candles.
- etc.

We're sat in the business departure lounge for our flight to Copenhagen and I've been contemplating the transience of these places. They're like a no-where zone between life in one country and life in another. Existence hangs, on hold, as we sit savouring our free drinks.

Whenever I read a good book I have an internal dialogue that goes on. Half of me is eager to drink it up, to absorb every moment of it as quickly as possible. The other half is pleasantly contented that I have found a book which I love and want to savour. For this half, the thought of reaching the end is sad.

Eugene speaks
"I think relevance is a crock. I don't think people care a whole lot about what kind of music you have or how you shape the service. They want a place where God is taken seriously, where they're taken seriously, where there is no manipulation of their emotions or their consumer needs." [read more]

A whole week later...

News: I've uncovered the student subculture of Risk Players, which led to a four-and-a-half hour session on Sunday afternoon. I had a lot of fun despite being the first loser.

On Friday we head to Denmark on a ministry trip, which will no doubt stretch me some more. I've never visited any Nordic countries, so it will be an experience.

I'm reading, and loving, How to be Good by Nick Hornby. He's one of my favourite writers, the way he composes a scene and at times sheds light on the mysteries (and monotonies) of human life. Reading his books are a breath of fresh air, easier and more relaxing than watching TV.

One morning last week, I can't remember which day, I was in the shower and found myself thinking of a story that I've heard a million times before. Years ago, before I was even a twinkle in my fathers eye, my Grandpa was asked to pray for a lady who was completely blind. He recalls having absolutely no expectation of anything happening and remembers being astounded when the lady informed him that she could now see.

Cut to me thinking about this one morning last week. I suddenly felt really challenged as I heard God whisper in my ear, "ok, it might be a nice story, but it's someone else's. I want you to have your own." This is what I long for. I don't want to find myself recounting 30 year old stories of how God used my Grandfather. I want to join God in his kingdom work here and now and to have stories of my own that reflect that.

"An honest answer
is like a warm hug"
(Proverbs 24:26)

Last night at Fusion we looked at the Spiritual Disciplines. I was trying to work out why I love this subject so much and a few ideas came to mind...

1. The first is that it is so counter cultural - our society is marked by the disposable and the instant. Even things that once had the air of permanence, such as marriage, are throwaway. A life of discipline is the antithesis of this culture. It values life change above the quick fix. Our lives become more focussed on the eternal.

2. Our feelings towards the word 'discipline' are often negative, other words like 'punishment' come to mind. In contrast to this response - that they are somehow constrictive - the spiritual disciplines can function as tools towards a life of greater peace and freedom.

I could ramble further, but I won't...

This morning I visited Form, who had a visit from Jon the Freelance Theologian. His challenge was to teach the broad sweep of Church history in the space of two and a half hours. He did a great job considering the time constraints.

For a few days back there I slipped off google's radar. I'm not sure what it was, but both my pornstar and politician namesakes overtook me in the top spot when searching my name. It's nice to be back.

I visited Cardiff this weekend, which was great fun. It was a swift visit (just over 24 hours) which included Shot in the Dark and Inncognito on Friday night, a trip to the Bay, a fringe trim, a roast dinner and a little sleep on Saturday.

I always think of the best things to blog when I'm riding my bike between home and the office. Last night, when I reached a junction between Downend and Muller Roads, I noticed that there are two distinct varieties of those who cycle on road. For one it is permissible to cross a junction when the pedestrian signal is sounding, for the other this is a cardinal sin. Interesting? Maybe not. But true...

The housegroup leaders' weekend at Glenfall House was great. It was good to be in a different context with people who don't always get to hang out, to minister to one another and to ask questions of our journeys in leadership.

On the Sunday morning we had a ministry time in which I really felt God addressing the issue of the 'fear of man' in my life. I know that I'm called to 'live before an audience of one,' to care more about what God thinks of me than I do about what others think of me, and it seems that God is consistently chipping away at how, where and from whom I find affirmation.

Go On Loving You
This is my prayer
This is my cry
I want to go on loving You
All through the joy
All through the fire
I want to go on loving You
I want to go on loving You

Seasons will change
People depart
I want to go on loving You
In times of pain when life is hard
And when the journey seems so long
I want to go on loving You

Your love for me, new as the dawn
older than time
Stronger than death, greater than life
This love is mine

In everything, through all my life
I want to go on loving You
This is my prayer, this is my cry
I want to go on loving You
I want to go on loving You

After one night of throwing up my stomach (not just its contents) and two days of disorientated aching, I'm back in the office. I'm just grateful that the experience was swift and that I can think about orange juice without finding my head in a bucket.

This weekend is the housegroup leaders retreat at Glenfall House, which should be fun.

Why is it that even when you have an early and full night of sleep you still wake up tired? That was the story this morning, the lids seemed heavier than usual, but I managed to get up without a single snooze.

It was the central prayer meeting last night, which was a really good time. Last week at the NLC Lance Pittluck brought us the challenge of embracing the life of prayer, in our solitary lives and in the lives of our communities. While it is good to have a motivated community of doers, or activists, that activism has to come from a place of deep intimacy with the father otherwise our works are empty.

cuttingedge:uk is now out.

Well, back from a crazy week in Bournemouth. It was a great time hanging out with old friends, meeting new ones, hearing some great teaching, walking by the sea and lots of fruit.

I'm leaving for the leaders conference in a few hours, but thought I'd post quickly before I leave...

The weekend was fun. Had a fairly mellow one on Saturday, then Sunday was crazy. We went into the prison on Sunday morning to lead a service in the chapel. God was there and moved despite the usual rowdiness of the guys there. It's a great place to grow in confidence in playing guitar and singing in front of people - you're guaranteed hecklers etc!

I've had this song going through my head all weekend. I'm not a big fan of the melody, but the words are great. In fact I can't even remember how the chorus goes, but here are words to the verse...

You are beautiful beyond description
Too marvelous for words
Too wonderful of comprehension
Like nothing ever seen or heard
Who can grasp you infinite wisdom?
Who can fathom the depth of your love?

Yesterday I gave Emma a birthday card with a picture on the front of two apes dancing and a caption underneath that says, "I'm afraid you misunderstood, I said would you like a mango?"

This was especially funny for 2 reasons:
1) That it's a little known fact that Emma loves mangos, and
2) That the card Emelie gave her also had two apes on...

Last week I was thinking about the concept of eternal life starting now. It dawned on me that the scenario where people say, regarding tattoos, "you might like it now, but what about when you're 80," is altogether less frightening when you view this life as transient. Life is short, and in light of that fact, perhaps the attitude that is more natural to take is "why wouldn't I want to get that tattoo now? I only have a short time, why not try this stuff out now, while I can?"

I know it's a silly example, but my (rather convoluted) point is that perspective really does make a big difference.

This week is the run up to the National Leaders' Conference in Bournemouth.

On Saturday night we went to Po Na Na to hear Sim DJ and celebrate Emelie's birthday. It was a good night - Sim played some great US house, with everything from gospel vocals to the walking bass lines of funk records. Emma and I were the most hardcore, dancing from 10.30pm-1.50am.

By Sunday night my voice was well on its way out and I'm now full of cold...thank goodness for lemsip!

Wow, it's been almost a whole week since I last posted. Things in Bristol are going pretty well and are very busy. This week I've been sorting out the finishing touches to the latest edition of cuttingedge:uk, working on which has been great fun.

This morning I was doing some teaching on Form, the discipleship programme at BV. The subject was Acts, and was based on How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth by Fee and Stuart (a great book which I'm sure I didn't do justice!) Complications arose from the fact that the swedes (3/5 of the group) aren't back up to full translating strength, but we got through it and finished with some great Rissotto from Rachael and Emma.

On Monday I was talking to Andrew about my future career. As mentioned in my last post, I often find it difficult to find the 'one thing' that I'm to focus on amid all my varied interests. He's pretty good with quips, and this weeks one was "over analysis leads to paralysis" - one that I'm certain is true (often in my own life!)

The Poverty of Finiteness
One of the highlights of this week was a meal with Tim and Julie. We talked for hours about things like church planting, justice, and deciding what to do with the rest of your life. The latter was something that has been on my mind for a while - knowing that there are probably a number of different avenues I could go down and trying to work out where God is actually leading me.

Tim used the phrase 'the poverty of finiteness' to express this dilemma - the idea that while there are any number of things we might do with our lives, we are limited by the span of our lives. My Grandpa once told me that one of his only regrets was doing too much, rather than focussing on a few things and doing them well.

I want to learn from my Grandpa's experience, I want to find what it is that I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life and do it well.

I was about to clock-off when I realised that it's been too long since I last blogged. Things here at BV are slowly picking up after the Christmas lull, people arriving back in dribs and drabs (especially when it comes to the students).

I'm really praying that this will be a year when I learn to trust God in a way that I haven't experienced up until now. Over Christmas I spent some time thinking and praying through an area in my life that I find it particularly hard to trust Him in: money!

This (academic) year has really seen the ante upped in this area, living without a fixed wage and without that immediate connection between what I do and what I receive. What an interesting adventure.

I arrived back in Bristol last night. As I sat in the big, quiet house I was struck by the fact that the last ten days had passed so quickly.

This morning the alarm sounded at 7.30pm and I snoozed until 7.45. After a Christmas of 9am starts waking this early was painful.

Happy New Year everyone!