Clam the way and the truth and the life

I'm sure it's not deliberate, but the electronic version of Rick Warren's "Purpose Driven Life" that I read on my phone has a thought provoking typo.  This morning I read that

Jesus said 'clam the way and the truth and the life."

...which makes an interesting mental image anyway you open it.

I first read this as "Claim the way".

Now, in a society (indeed, a continent) where various flavours of miracle focused prosperity teachings are endemic, the thought of whether Jesus could have meant us to "claim the way and the truth and the life" caused me to stop and think. 
What if this wasn't a typo? 
What if it was a paraphrase or even an alternative translation? 
Could there be another light here on man's (minuscule) part in the great salvation plan? 
What if God has provided the way, and like Nemo's seagulls, we just had to call "Mine!"?

The thought of naming and claiming not just material goods and "blessings" but the ultimate blessing of Salvation was disturbing but intriguing
But it was not a thought that came to a conclusion - mainly because I started writing it up for this blog and saw that in fact the word was "clam", not "claim".

'clam the way and the truth and the life".

How do I clam something?
Take the truth of who Jesus is. 
Crack it open, dig it out, savour it, remember it, never be satisfied, keep going back for more.

Rejoice for a comrade deceased

I have done quite a bit of thinking in the last few hours.
One thought that has kept coming to mind is from the pen of Charles Wesley:

Rejoice for a comrade deceased;
Our loss is his infinite gain;
A soul out of prison released.
And freed from his bodily chain:
With songs let us follow his flight,
And mount with his spirit above:
Escaped to the mansions of light,
And lodged in the Eden of love.

(My Salvationist roots are showing again! Wesley rejoiced for a
"brother". "Comrade" sings better!)

We don't think like that any more!
Since the word went around that one of the leaders in our church had
died, there have been a number of comments to the effect that we cannot
be sad because he is in a better place. But we don't in this 21st
century, seem to grasp the fullness of our Heavenly Hope as our
predecessors in the faith did.

Maybe we don't see heaven in all its glory because we don't see earth in
all its horror.
Maybe we see heaven as "a better place", but not as an "infinite gain".
Maybe we need to stop stumbling to keep up with a post-modern world
where right and wrong are relative lifestyle choices and stand again on
the Truth that this life is not good.
- to recognise again that we live in bodily chains.
- to stop paying lip service to Paul's pained exclamation: "What a
wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to
death?" (Rom 7:24)
- to stop thinking of life as fixable and acknowledge that death is
indeed "escape to the mansions of light" from the real murk of this life.

This world is not our home. And it's not a nice place. At our peril we
have come to be content with this fallen world and everything that comes
with it.

This world is not fixable. No greening of the environment or giving of
rights to the marginalised, however worthy, will in and of themselves
make the difference.
But that is not to say that we have no hope.
Exactly the opposite.
Seeing the stark horror of the world and the infinite glory of Heaven
reveals the immensity of the hope we do possess.

With Paul again, "we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about
those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no
hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so,
through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep." (1
Thes 4:13-14)

There is a glorious hope! (There is too an abhorrent horror for those
who have no hope, but that, beyond a call to intercede for them, is
another topic)
There is a heaven to gain and an earth to shun

'Tis Jesus, the First and the Last,
Whose Spirit shall guide us safe home,
We'll praise Him for all that is past!
And trust Him for all that's to come".
(Joseph Hart)

Mental Arithmetic is not dead

So I went to buy my lunch today and the change came to some odd amount of cents.
"Bother", I thought, "A credit note".

Let me explain.
For the past few years, Zimbabwe has been a "multicurrency economy". What this means is that you can officially use US$, sterling, South Africa rand, Botswana Pula, Euro or even Zim$.  Officially.  In practice, in Harare, you use US$.
But we have notes only, not coins.  What coins are in circulation are rand or occasionally pula.
So if I hand over US$5 for a $4.32 burger and chips, the normal 68c change is not going to happen.  The normal is that the store will issue a credit note for 68c and the next time I am in that particular store (and remember), I cash it in.

Not this time.

I was handed, without so much as a pause, R2.05 and one pula.
Mental arithmetic is not dead!  Who in a normal world can calculate that USc 68 = R2.05 + P1 and calculate it in less time than that?

I might spend my days working in the Payment Industry and helping people do clever things with electronic money.  This helps the coin dilemma.
But it comes no where near close to the cleverness of the Mental Arithmetic at the shop.

The light of truth; the lunacy of reason

Symbols alone are of even a cloudy value in speaking of this deep
matter; and another symbol from physical nature will express
sufficiently well the real place of mysticism before mankind. The one
created thing which we cannot look at is the one thing in the light of
which we look at everything—Like the sun at noonday, mysticism explains
everything else by the blaze of its own victorious invisibility—Detached
intellectualism is (in the exact sense of a popular phrase) all
moonshine; for it is light without heat, and it is secondary light,
reflected from a dead world. But the Greeks were right when they made
Apollo the god both of imagination and of sanity; for he was both the
patron of poetry and the patron of healing. Of necessary dogmas and a
special creed I shall speak later. But that transcendentalism by which
all men live has primarily much the position of the sun in the sky. We
are conscious of it as of a kind of splendid confusion; it is something
both shining and shapeless, at once a blaze and a blur. But the circle
of the moon is as clear and unmistakable, as recurrent and inevitable,
as the circle of Euclid on a blackboard. For the moon is utterly
reasonable; and the moon is the mother of lunatics and has given to them
all her name.
G.K Chesterton - Orthodoxy

From which C.S Lewis presumably drew his own and better known
extrapolation:
I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen. Not only
because I see it, but because by it I see everything else
"Is Theology Poetry?" (1945)

Apathy or irony

At Saturday night's NAMA Ceremony, Dr. Tony Mhonda was awarded "Outstanding Arts Reporter"
Unfortunately, the nation's Outstanding Arts Reporter didn't attend the ceremony. 
Maybe he had a crisis, I don't know. 
Or maybe the National Arts Merit Awards are not of interest to an Outstanding Arts Reporter.

No matter.  At least his home paper publishes his picture on their report of the evening!

Honoured!

It's more than a question of being recognised. 
It's more than realising that there are many great performances that have not been recognised. 
It's more than the rosy glow that comes with other people being prouder of you than you are of yourself.
It's more than an opportunity to stop and remember that I am nothing in my own strength.
It's more than a trophy, a certificate, a program (and some cash).
It's more than the tantalising allure of things to come.
It's more than I can understand.
But I am honoured, and grateful.

From Changi to Bogota

So, my phone now knows where it is.
Or not.

As with the rest of us, its guidance mechanisms are only as good as its experience and its source - but not necessarily in that order.
The phone knows to ask the nearest GPRS tower for coordinates.
That's experience. That's a learned (programmed) response.

But the tower does not always give valid coordinates. The Source is fallible.

So...
I woke up this morning in my own bed in Harare, but to be told that I was in the Changi aea of Singapore.
And I am now sitting in Harare International Airport being told that I am in Bogota, Columbia.

Well done Econet Wireless!
Changi to Bogota in one morning with no jet lag.
I believe that setting the correct coordinates on the base stations is relatively simple. It just has to be done right. Someone has to be told. And they have to do it.

Thanks be to G-d this Christmas!
Not only did Him tell his engineers, the prophets, what to say, but He made sure they got it right.
And above that, just in case we didn't hear them correctly and still were unable to navigate correctly, He sent His Son to show the way; to BE the Way

Latitude is restored

In an earlier post I bemoaned that my mobile phone had revolted and refused to communicate with the interwebs. Sort of a UDI - Unilateral Declaration of Interuption.

The first nice lady I spoke to at Econet Avondale told me everything was fine and suggest "some men by Herbert Chitepo Ave who do these things". Guess not.

Now I wouldn't take "yes" for an answer when the phone still says "no".
A nice man at Econet Borrowdale said "O/S corruption". Makes sense. How else could one get a POP3 connection for mail and no internet connection?
Solution: Reinstall O/S
Which practically means Hard Reboot.
So backup / sync everything in sight...
And it's worked.


Getting back what apps I want will take time. But any I don't want, I have "reclaimed" their space!

I have just got Google Maps and Latitude up, and the "Where's Mike?" feature on the righthand column of this blog is thus back online!

So...
Does your HTC P3400 have a pathological fear of the internet?
A workable solution a hard reboot.
At least, it worked for me.

Do your backups!

Unrest anyone?

No thanks, We'll just go drink my Schweppes Lemon.  We'll meet you there.  Shuuwa!

(via Cynic Harare  who also points out that "Detractor is a farm vehicle!")

Silver Spur, Holiday Inn, Harare

The "spoil myself" day which has brought me to the Woodlands began with a juicy monkey gland steak at the Spur.
Quality is as good as ever. (although I still prefer my olives pitted)
And it was peaceful.
Maybe five tables in use in the whole place.
Just what I needed. Don't disturb me. Just let me settle down and unwind.
The apple pie was not too bad either. Not perfect, but plenty good enough.
Anyone know where Monkey Gland steak gets its name from?
What do they do with the rest of the monkey?

Lunch time!

There are a number of feeding sites like the one on the right of this picture. Vegetables lie strewn around.
I guess 2011 is not just a lean year for the people of Zimbabwe. Even the animals need food assistance.
Soon after this picture was taken, the group of eleven impala gathered tightly and got stuck in... before a giraffe wandered down to displace them.
Even the guinea fowl realised that the top of the tower might not have been meant for them.

Deep knee bends

Mukuvisi Woodlands

Ok, so it's not Ngezi.
That was the plan for today. But plans have changed such that I scratch Ngezi and the first night of the national One Act Play Festival at Campbell Theatre in Kadoma.

But, God willing, I'll get to the Festival tomorrow.

Meantime, sunny skies, baked veldt, ostriches, zebra, impala,ibis, assorted water fowl...
It's not all bad!

Current Location Unavailable

Nice idea.
Put a Google Latitude widget on your blog page.
Until your phone thinks that the internet is a bad place and refuses to go there. As you currently see, my widget says "Current Location Unavailable".

I'm leaving it there because one day (maybe soon) I will be back online.

BTW - anyone have any ideas on how a HTC P3400 can send and receive emails to a variety or email systems, but not want to play nicely with internet or related apps?
The nice lady at Econet says everything is fine.
It's not.
It's just weird.

(If you want to know, at time of writing, I'm in Harare.  At time or reading, who knows?)

He's back!

Well, Harold Camping may have got it wrong when he told us that it was all over on May 21.  But I'm not sure that he has learnt much from the experience.


Driving home last night, I flicked my radio to the AM band, and along with the amazing plethora of stations from Gabarone to Zanzibar (and a few others like VoA which is relayed through Selebi-Phikwe), there was Family Radio again.


Not an exact quote but "if we study the Scriptures hard enough we will be able to determine exactly when the Lord will return" doesn't yet tell me that Mr Camping has learned to interpret "no one knows the day or the hour" the way I do.
He still believes that the Generation of the End began in 1948 and that the Church ended then.  To get around the obvious problem with this, he says that a "generation" is nothing to do with human lifespans, but rather a period in the history of the chosen People.  Nice footwork, but it therefore follows that, so long as Israel exists as a nation-state, we are in Camping's Last Days.


He's wrong about the Church, but you know, so far as the End coming while Israel is here, I think he may be right.
We do not know when.  We cannot know when.  It is not given for us to know when.
But soon and very soon....

Like +1

So I can +1 a blog post for someone who  is not on G+. 
So far so good. 
A Google integration moment. 
But? 

I had thought +1 was the equivalent of the FB "like" meaning "Mr Writer, I agree with you".
However, it appears +1 is "Dear World, I agree with him"
Which I guess is what the FB like was too.

Interesting how I assume that fame is about "they like me" and not about "you will like him".
I guess that's the difference between "I love you because of what you do" and "Because I love you, I will tell others about you"
Greed vs Evangelism

(Seed thought from a combination of the blog in question  from @matthewhosier (http://bit.ly/qLNSns) and a sermon from @AndyStanley ("Staying in Love: Re-Modeling" Jun 01, 2011))

Winter's afternoon

The sky is a bleached blue, the air has a bight, but the doors are open again, and I'm back in short-sleeves.

Winter is not over yet, but the "nice" part of winter is upon us.  

And I like it!

22:10 from Paddington

I think that one of the things that makes London so special is it's transport. Even in the first few days when a Southern Hemisphere sense of direction is so dangerous, the trains, tubes and buses run with astounding regularity.
It's 10:30 at night. My head is full of astounding voices, and I can sit in a train and be taken to Slough.
As easy as that.
By default, I took an all zone Day TravelCard today. Maybe a simple Day Return would have been better today.
But really, it's not as cheap as it was in '91, but it works, and works well.
Next stop when we get to Slough - 24hr Tescos.
Which incidentally closes at 4 on Sundays.
I know.
I found out
The hard way.

The Albany, Deptford

They use stage lighting in the Café that we could happily use at Reps!
Note to self - frosted gel on an intelli. Nice effect.

The whole atmosphere speaks "Performing Arts Centre". The Café is more than just a Members' Bar. Mothers sit here while their teenagers are in violin, drum or whatever lessons.
And Theatre Staff walk through with their hammers and plastering hods.
It's a living Theatre, with the Café and Garden forming the central space around and through which it all happens.

People begin to gather for the Masterclass. Young, fit, self assured, self contained. Any of them could be destined for greatness. Probably few are. But it's the Dream that drives.

Hammers down, a workman wheels a piano to the Purple Room. It's going to happen. No sign of Paul Spicer yet, but still 10 minutes to go. He'll be here.

Down the corridor, glass fronted offices contain Set Designers with CAD PCs and walls full of designs. Publishers composing the community newspapers.

The function rooms are coloured - Red Room, Purple Room, etc. I'm guessing there's even a Green Room - but in the part of the building I can't get to.

This will be good.
The bigger world.

English humour

..or is just a small rebellion against the collapsed culture?