Showing posts with label Australia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Australia. Show all posts

Monday, 15 August 2016

Rahab of Jericho - Faithful & Righteous (Part 1)



 
Remains of the Canaanite town of Jericho near Tell es-Sultan ~ June 2012
Joshua secretly sent two of his men as spies to Jericho on a reconnaissance mission (Joshua 2:1). So they went and came to the house of a woman named Rahab, a prostitute, and stayed there (2:1). When the king of Jericho learned about the two Israelite spies, he sent word to Rahab ordering her to surrender them (2:2-3). However, Rahab had taken the two men up to the roof and under stalks of flax (2:4, 6), and although she admitted that the men had come to her, she told the king’s messengers that she didn’t know where the men were from and said the spies had already left the city before the gate was shut for the night (2:4–5). In return for the kindness that Rahab had shown them (2:12), and her promise to keep what they were doing confidential (2:14, 20), the spies took an oath that she and her entire family would be saved from death when Joshua conquered the land (2:12–14; cf. 2:17-20). They further stipulated that when the Israelites entered the land and the conquest began, she was to gather her all family members into her house and tie a scarlet cord in the window, which would serve to identify her house (2:17–21). Rahab acted in accordance with the agreement and tied the scarlet cord in the window, and so when the Israelites conquered the city, she and her entire family were spared (6:17, 22–23, 25). After the total destruction of Jericho, Rahab and her family were brought to live among the Israelites, who accepted her into their camp (6:23, 25).

Introduction:
Today there are numerous advantages to being accepted as an immigrant to Australia – obviously, otherwise there wouldn’t be so many people wanting to come and live here! Some of you know that I, my husband, and our then two-year-old son, emigrated from South Africa just over 16 years ago – our daughter was born here in Brisbane... she’s the true blue Aussie of the family. Anyway, as an outsider coming in you tend to notice things about Australian culture and national identity that insiders, born-and-bred Aussies, simply take for granted.

One of the things we were intrigued by when we first arrived was the fact that, by and large, Australians consider it a matter of pride to have a convict ancestor. Coming from South Africa - a country with a turbulent history and its own shameful record of apartheid - we found it strange that Australia’s convict past did not seem to be viewed as a source of shame.

Records show that at least 14% of Australians that delve into their family tree find they are related to a convict deported from Britain during the 18th and 19th centuries.  In 2014, Ancestry.com commissioned a report which examined Australians’ knowledge of their ancestors and their attitudes to them and found that Australians were more likely to be proud of an ancestor who was a thief, criminal, or drunkard, than any other nation represented in the study. A few decades ago many Australians were ashamed to admit blood links to the First Fleet. Now, it's become fashionable!

However, although attitudes towards Australia’s convict heritage have become considerably more positive over the last 30 to 40 years, so much so that having a convict ancestor is worn as a badge of honour, in the last decade especially, Australian attitudes toward immigrants have increasingly become more cautious. The reality is that immigrating to Australia nowadays is extremely difficult. In the past, being a criminal meant you were guaranteed entry to Australia, and while many Australians are now proud to be related to these criminals, today we don’t want criminals coming to live here! In a complete reversal of fortune, people with any kind of criminal background arriving in Australia today are guaranteed of being shipped straight back to where they came from. Ironic, isn’t it?

For Christians, being confronted by Rahab of Jericho is a bit like an Australian who discovers they have a convict ancestry. We admire Rahab at arm’s length, but are somewhat uneasy about being urged to imitate her, which is exactly what a couple of New Testament writers want us to do! Hebrews and James both mention Rahab:

Hebrews 11:31 says:

By faith Rahab the prostitute did not perish along with those who were disobedient, after she had welcomed the spies in peace.
πίστει Ῥαὰβ ἡ πόρνη οὐ συναπώλετο τοῖς ἀπειθήσασιν, δεξαμένη τοὺς κατασκόπους μετ’ εἰρήνης.


And James 2:25 says:

And in the same way, was not even Rahab the prostitute considered righteous by what she did when she received the messengers and sent them out by a different road?
ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ Ῥαὰβ ἡ πόρνη οὐκ ἐξ ἔργων ἐδικαιώθη, ὑποδεξαμένη τοὺς ἀγγέλους καὶ ἑτέρᾳ ὁδῷ ἐκβαλοῦσα




Well, it’s fortunate for Rahab that the rules of baseball don’t apply to being nominated for a place in the Hall of Faith in Hebrews 11. In the game of baseball, you get three strikes and then you’re out. Rahab had at least three strikes against her: 


She is a woman - first strike!

She is a Canaanite, i.e. a Gentile - second strike!

And she is called a prostitute - third strike!



No wonder we are uneasy about imitating her! At first blush, she seems like a person of questionable background who exhibits the sort of lifestyle of which we would firmly disapprove. But let’s take a closer look at the person behind the story in Joshua 2, and I suspect that we will discover that being related by faith to Rahab can indeed be a badge of honour.

(Read Part 2 here.)

Sunday, 1 December 2013

The Christmas tree that was waiting to be discovered


In most living rooms across Australia, December 1 heralds the appearance of a rather fake-looking evergreen tree, gaudily decorated with various assortments of even more fake-looking glittery baubles, haphazardly strung with (mostly) flashing lights, and lavishly adorned with boa constrictors of tinsel... all topped off with a plastic golden star (of course). And so the Festive Season begins... with the annual tradition of putting up the Christmas tree, and without which, no Australian family Christmas would be considered complete.

Now admittedly, I confess to having a bit of a love-hate relationship with the concept of the Christmas tree. It's not as if I'm totally against this universally accepted symbol of the Festive Season. And yes, our family enjoys following the 'Christmas tree tradition' each year, although our K-Mart special is now 14 years old, shedding artificial pine needles like changes of clothes, and at 1.5m tall is considered rather vertically challenged when compared with the latest floor-to-ceiling specimens pictured in the 2013 Christmas catalogues.

But, I hate how the Christmas tree seems to have stolen the show. While every self-respecting self-promoting shopping mall proudly offers customers the opportunity to meet their 'one and only' Santa Claus, more numerous by far are the stylishly decorated Christmas trees prominently displayed at regular intervals on each level (perhaps over-exposure to heavily ornamented fake fir trees lulls shoppers into spending a little bit more than they otherwise would have on those gimmicky Christmas gifts that nobody ever uses anyway). The popularity of the Christmas tree is enough to rival and almost eclipse that of the jolly old man in the red suit, so much so that the commercial world has adopted this symbol as its own and is on a mission to rebrand the religiously offensive Christmas tree as the more socially acceptable 'Holiday Tree'.

In Christian homes and churches also, we have often allowed the not-so-humble fake Christmas tree to replace the all-too-humble, yet real symbol of Christmas - the Nativity of Christ. Each Christmas we seem to be unaware that the Fake and Secular is getting bigger, brighter, bolder... It's crowding out the Living Nativity which is considered too simple, too small, too outdated.

Therefore, I have been harbouring a growing resentment toward the Christmas tree in the living room. I've tried to compensate, to balance out the fake, to smother the secular, by decorating the shedding K-Mart special with Christmas ornaments in the shapes of angels, shepherds, wise men... even a baby in a manger. I'm fooling no one though. The artificial evergreen may have dominated my lounge room each December, but it has failed to meet my expectations... it did not capture my heart. In the end, it is not real or living, only a poor facsimile that disappoints.

So, I was about to reject Christmas trees once and for all. I didn't want to bow to the commercialism or worship the false anymore.

Then
       I discovered something
                                          that had been right there
all along...
               and it completely changed my perception of Christmas trees...

...something glorious caught my eye as I gazed out my window the other day - the Poinciana tree in the front garden... it seemed to be on fire! It was resplendent in brilliant burnt-orange flowers. Of course, the Poinciana tree is always dressed in fiery orange at this time of year... this and every year towards Christmas time.

Why had I never realised this before? Standing right there in the front garden is our very own Christmas tree! It's been there all along, but I never recognised that it was a Christmas tree until now. No matter, it just waited. And every year allowed itself to be decorated in beautiful bright orange petals transforming it into a real live Christmas tree, the likes of which cannot be bought at any store or made in any factory.

For the Christmas tree that was waiting to be discovered is provided each year by the One who is Real and Living. It is He who created the Poinciana tree in my front garden and appoints it to become a stunning Christmas tree every Advent season. I have no hand in putting it up. I do not need to hang baubles or tinsel. I contribute nothing.

Nothing except my admiration and adoration of a great God who always gives the best gifts, if only I would open my eyes to see them, because the extraordinary and the truly real is often discovered in the places that the world considers ordinary and unworthy. How marvellous it is that I need search no farther than the fiery Poinciana in my front garden to find a real Christmas tree which testifies to a Living God who has already given us the ultimate gift - His Son. That is something truly worth celebrating!


Friday, 29 November 2013

A paralysis tick called Perfectionism



Australia is home to a rather insidious parasite, Ixodes holocyclus, more commonly known as the paralysis tick. It occurs in a 20 kilometre wide strip all the way down Australia's east coast and is particularly prevalent from August through to February when it is hot and humid. An adult female of this species can cause paralysis by injecting neurotoxins into its host as it feeds, and every year many pet dogs and cats succumb to its poison - left undetected, the results are often fatal.

It's surprising isn't it? That such a small creature can affect a much larger and seemingly more powerful host like a cat, dog, or even a human being, in such a devastating way. Because the paralysis tick starts off so small it frequently goes unnoticed, even as an owner carefully searches through the fur of the family pet each day.

But each day it remains, it feeds off its victim and grows stronger.

Each day it remains, it injects its poison and its larger and more powerful victim becomes weaker. The poison works through the host's body and silently yet stealthily saps its strength.

The paralysis tick sucks up lifeblood. The paralysis tick replaces that which gives life with that which ultimately has the potential to bring death...

...but before it kills its victim it immobilises it. It paralyses. The host is conscious, but gripped in a state of powerlessness. Weakness. Unable to move.

And that, in many ways, describes me. I too have a paralysis tick. My paralysis tick is not called Ixodes holocyclus - one of its names is Perfectionism. And it fills me with fear.

I have a desire to write. But I am afraid.

I have a desire to use words to say Something. I am just not sure what. And I am afraid.

What if I have nothing worthwhile to write?

What if nobody likes what I write?

What if somebody disagrees with me?

What if it's not Perfect?

And that's what has been paralysing me. The fear of not being perfect, and knowing that I never can be. Now I must ask One more powerful than I to pluck off the paralysis tick called Perfectionism, because I know I can't do it myself. I think it's going to be a rather long and drawn out process, because I find myself fighting against the One who has the power to remove the parasite. Yet I know I can trust him. He knows I am not perfect, but he chooses to treat my deepest need...

I need a cure. Jesus is the doctor. He cures my paralysis by washing me with his lifeblood.

He's the complete opposite to the paralysis tick. He is the great Saviour. More powerful than my greatest fear.