Community + care = shock

A man holds the door open and we’re pleasantly surprised. A young woman offers her seat to someone older and were perplexed. A toddler, not yet waist high, wants to help … I’m shocked.

In a community that’s become increasingly closed, these acts of kindness have become so rare, they’re labelled ‘random’.

Random: odd, unusual, or unexpected

Let that sit in for a second. Those kind words, offer of support or gesture of generosity was so odd. When’s the last time you wanted to get up and do something that was odd?

Before you answer, I want to come back to the man holding the door. I’ve been that man and seen that man, I’ve also been turned down being that man. I want to make it clear – holding the door doesn’t insinuate either party is better, bigger, stronger or worthwhile in any way. It shows you care.

In this tiny moment, you no longer have to exert yourself to hold that door. Stride on, smile and enjoy your day!

To the woman giving up her seat: well played sister. Don’t sit around waiting for someone else to show love when we’ve each been gifted with the same ability to love one another.

And to the people who want to cast judgement on the males of similar age who happen to be sitting around this young woman: stop wasting your time. Put your feelings into action (like a blog for example).

Finally to that waist high, three-and-a-half year old community warrior: I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I reacted the way I did wen you wanted nothing more than to hit the street and pick up rubbish, I’m sorry I responded with naawww when you prayed for people who don’t have homes and I’m sorry I cannot turn back the clock and do it again.

Recent research from IPSOS confirms that we are getting older and that we’re worried about ourselves and our own. It also indicates the next generation cares!

Whether because they haven’t been burnt by the world or they’re desperately want glorification through community impact, let’s celebrate their desire and be inspired.

Next time the door is held open, a seat is offered or, in my case, your child wants to do voluntary work, say thanks and be inspired.

If it takes a village to raise a child what will it take to save the world?

Hope without Him

As I sit down to write this post, I’m trying to remember the last time I wrote. What was I feeling? Where was I? What did I write?

Without knowing, I’ll push on.

Today’s post has been prompted by a message from my Church’s senior pastor. During a sermon which if I was honest, was not all that inspiring, Pastor Paul paused and said:

“Imagine life without Jesus. Life would seem pretty meaningless am I right?”

He didn’t pause for an answer, in fact I don’t know if he gave it another thought as he continued with his sermon and references to the sand slowly passing through the hour glass to his right. I, however, failed to concentrate on anything else.

How would my life be different without Jesus?

Sure, I love him, I think he died for me on the cross and his love can conquer all but in my day to day life … what’s his role beside a quiet word at night? The reality both shocked and saddened me.

Fast forward 24 hours and I’m sitting in a living room with a group of friends so close, their family. What better audience to ask the question of – maybe I shouldn’t be upset with myself … What if Jesus didn’t exist?

There faces read confusion before love poured out. I would miss the holy spirit, joy and peace … without Him, I couldn’t find hope.

What’s life without hope? Nothing

So I pause, as the long hand moves passed 11 pm and thank the Lord for Jesus and a reason to move past the fear and suffering in our world. To live in hope hope that He will come again and all will be made good.

Seeing past me

Why did they have to ask me? This isn’t my role? Isn’t there other people that could help?

These are all questions I found myself along myself over the past week. Outwardly I joke about being ‘the fixer’ while inside, I’m a ball of anger. The best kind too … Justified.

While off-putting, I know I’m not alone. We are all combating selfishness on a daily basis.

Where we know it or not, the over powering message played out in our community is YOU deserve more. Not that we want more (even though we do) but that you deserve it.

Worse still, the messages are accompanied by an offer of more and how YOU can get YOURS.

So as I battle selfishness in my own life, I reflect on these great words…

Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness.

Which path will you choose?

Stand or fall

It’s been three weeks months (and a few edits) since I heard the words. The fact I’m still mulling over them in my mind is evidence of they’re impact.

If you don’t stand for something you’ll fall for anything

It got me thinking – what do I stand for in life? Sure, this blog is all about finding my way through life, discovering truth along the way but I’ve come to believe that isn’t enough. I have no idea where this leaves me but standing at the kitchen bench hearing the wind rummage quickly through branches outside like a young boy desperately searching for his favourite matchbox car…I’m excited.

This particular matchbox isn’t the flashiest of his vast collection or the the most expensive model. It’s a beat up Chevrolet with a slightly loose front left wheel and scratches across the roof. It’s the car I found at the park, half buried under the bark.

It’s the car I gave a second chance.

Like you, I’ve made mistakes in my life. It is likely that scholars (or people who can write at an ‘above average’ level) will tell you I’ve made mistakes in this post. Who knows, making these thoughts public could be a fault in it’s own. But I know I’ll get a second chance in the form of grace.

Second chances; when push comes to shove, I pray I’m willing to fall.

Until then; at home, in public and in my chosen field of work, I’ll always give second chances.

Bloody biscuits

They’re walking the streets, they’re all over the TV and littered throughout my social feeds. With needles hanging from their arms like a badges of honour and biscuit crumbs spread across their proud smile … I’m sick of blood donors.

I can’t put my finger on it exactly but I know it has a lot to do with the whole I gave blood, I’m a hero mentality. If not this it’s the you should give too, they give you a biscuit statement.

Celebrating an anniversary, my wife and I saw The Martian last night and the pre movie advertising was dominated by a Red Cross ad overflowing with celebrity chefs raving excessively about the biscuit given post blood donation. The audience ate it up, people turned and commented whispering to each other the time and date if their next donation. Me, on the other hand, I clutched gently at my forearm and asked why?

Why discriminate? Why don’t you want me? Why must you rub it in my face? Why won’t you accept my blood?

This distaste hasn’t mustered overnight though has been a slow burning fire. It began with a letter.

Dear Luke,
Thank you for your donation … We regret to inform you that your blood is useless, you wasted your time and ours*.
*an exaggerated version of the original

I’d lived in England for twelve months in 1989/90, that was enough to discount the blood, that seems to be doing an OK  job of keeping me alive, from being donated. This is really why I’m sick of those needle and crumb decorated hero’s.

I’m jealous. I’m hurt. I have blood.

I’ve read the t&c’s and researched the reasons but I’d really like a mad cows screening test. If you can’t do that Red Cross, at least acknowledge it in your advertising – as sad as it is, we can’t all be heroes.

If you’ve been told your blood isn’t worthy join the conversation on Twitter with #TakeMyBlood

She painted over the blessings

The sun was hot, not unbearably though, just enough to feel uncomfortable. The concrete I was kneeling on was hard against my knees and the end of her weapon dragged slowly across my face.

If was four year old daughter wasn’t smiling while painting my face, I would have said I had it pretty tough.

I often tell my children to look around and to be thankful for what they have (this advice usually follows biscuit rejection tears or the like) but how often so I do this myself? Yes, there are moments like seeing my daughter smile while covering my face in glittered purple paint but that thought pattern was dominated by grumblings.

We’re blind to all that’s been given to us. By human nature we recall a negative experience seven times more than a positive one but surely we can do better. I’m nothing short of impressed when I kind blind myself to such blessing.

If you’re breathing while you read this, you have cause to be thankful. If you’re not breathing, get yourself to a hospital as soon as you can.

Miranda that wasn’t Devine

More than 24 hours have passed, I accept this is old news in the blogosphere but realise that Sense in the Senseless is about journeying so I’ll continue.

When I read the words “He’s drunk the feminist kool-aid”, I should have known to stop. It was a public platform, unfortunately one with a significant audience, The Daily Telegraph. Miranda Devine clearly wasn’t a fan of PM Malcolm Turnbull’s first big decision as leader – a $100m package into domestic violence.

Insert scratching of heads. Along with the PM, I thought investing in the marginalised was popular across an demographics. I was wrong. People have unique, silly and down right offensive views on social topics.

Read the article here for yourself but take a pinch of salt with you. Something tells me she’s grabbing at attention.

The writer clearly articulated that domestic violence is caused by poverty, that somehow these terrible situations are directly related to a lack of dollars and cents. That statement alone lacks sense.

I’m the first one to say, having not experienced it, I don’t understand the issue but I’m not going to try and speak on behalf of those who have. I will say, however, Miranda’s words were a pot choice but she does have one thing right. People who experience domestic violence are poor.

Lacking love, support and the means to deal with issues in life in an appropriate manner. If we, as a community, refuse to help the poorest (not just financial) amongst us, we’ve failed.

Choose your words carefully and love first without hesitation.

Leadership spill lacks obvious element

So the liberals voted and Australia has it’s fifth prime minister in as many years. Introducing Malcolm Turnbull, the output of the latest leadership spill.

Like all spills behind it, with more drama than an episode of Home and Away, the Australian public weren’t left disappointed. Last ditch phone calls assuring votes and media beat ups, the stage was set for fireworks (albeit dulled by statements of committment and “lets get to work”).

This all leaves me asking, was this the perfect leadership spill?

The short answer is no. It was a great spill but when dealing with inefficient leaders, I refuse to call it a leadership spill.

Will this Prime Minister unite at least one party? Only time will tell.

Bali bullet holes

Bali, the long time holiday destination of choice for many Australians, is now being considered as public enemy number one by the same number.

It’s been well documented, so I don’t want to run through the details but it is situations like this that urged me to begin to write here.

Over a decade ago 9 young Australians unsuccessfully attempted to smuggle drugs into Indonesia. They knew the penalty and this morning, 2 of them received the maximum.

Andrew Chan  and Myuran Sukumaran now have Bali bullet holes in their chest.

Their lives lost, their families crushed and  international politics are mess. Despite this damage, I find the largest holes in my own community. It’s displayed ‘proudly’ on social media and justified by archaic law. “They knew the consequences” they say.

They did and more do now but at what cost is such a lack of compassion to our community?

Prison should never be about punishment but reform. If we are drawn into a heartless ‘do the crime pay the time’ system we are no better than the long lost operators of POW camps. And we know the horror they bring.

Yes, you may have guessed, #istandformercy but more steadfast, I stand for love. Let’s not be drawn into spiteful arguments but discuss the problem at it’s roots instead of face value.

Let’s find sense is the senseless together.

Life, and a prison system, without compassion is one of prejudice, hate and fear. Is this community?

Christmas is here … where are you?

Christmas lights have been on the horizon for a few months now; increasing in brightness as they edge slowly towards us. Their multi coloured brilliance filled us with hope and joy that many would now consider false.

Christmas is upon us. The world is in pain. Where are you?

From Sydney’s Martin Place to Ferguson and the Bronx, violence is flashing at each turn. From Pakistan to Cairns the lights of evil and pain shine brightly. And here we are, just a few days from Christmas.

Let’s celebrate love this Christmas.