Grumpy me.

The side effects of the last lot of Chemotherapy -Immunotherapy were not as bad as the first two. Next week I go for my fourth lot of treatment. They do exhaust me though.

When I get to Church these days I am sitting in the pew and not taking any leadership role. We have different preachers leading and I am finding it a bit difficult.

Confession...

I find that I get annoyed when shortly after the first hymn a prayer of confession is called for, then the speaker declares, in different words depending on the preacher for the day, that I am forgiven and should be thankful for the mercy of God. It grates with me. It sort of pictures God sitting upon a throne, basically angry at me, awaiting me to grovel for forgiveness. Once I have done that he has given this servant of his the right to declare that I am forgiven. 

It is the wrong picture of God for me. My mum was a bit like that. She demanded I come to her and apologise, even after she had hit me for what she thought I had done wrong. If I didn't say I was sorry I might get hit again. Even if I did apologise it was an admission of guilt, so I got given some task I had to do as further punishment for my wrong. Either way I was made to feel really bad.  

My Dad was different. Mum would sometimes send me to my room and say, "Wait till you father gets home." I would hear Dad arrive home and hear mum telling him the terrible wrong things I had done. Eventually Dad would come into the room. He would sit on my bed and simply say, "What's up Mick? What has happened?" and he would listen.   God is love - that is what love does, seeks to understand. 

These preachers have been taught to lead in a confession. I can hear the lecturer telling them. "Worship involves A.C.T.S. Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving and Supplication." But as I follow Jesus' interactions with people in the Gospels I cannot think of anywhere he asked people to confess at the start of a conversation? In the story of the "Prodigal son" or perhaps more correctly "The Waiting father", the son has not even begun to speak before the father throws his arm around him in a loving welcome. He does not get a chance to finish his carefully prepared confession before party preparations are underway! That is not the way it feels in Church. 

Church ... this is not me!

Last Sunday I attended Church. It was what has become a normal service at Church these days. The leader was bright and did her best to communicate her message. It was orthodox theology. I disagreed with how she unpacked the reading, but that was because I see John's Gospel a bit differently.  Indeed  I have found that I now agree with John Dominic Crossan, that the Gospels contain parables about Jesus, which involve fact and fiction. But her sermon was in a way, my first draft. It did not hit earth for me anywhere. The whole service was insular and felt like we were part of an in-group and our job was to get more people into the in-group. I thought that if I had one of my fire fighters at Church they would have felt like they did not belong. It was orthodox, inward looking with a very "old" fifties perspective on Church. The hymns and songs tended to see salvation as getting to heaven when we die. I stopped singing several times. That is not where I am at. I noticed my wife having a little weep during one verse where I had stopped.  

All in all I felt like "I do not belong here. This does not express my faith."  These preachers are younger people so I ache for the church of the future.  A blogger friend gave me a book recently. "The Christian Agnostic" by Leslie D. Weatherhead. Written in 1965 it has these lines.  "Many wonder how the elaborate ritual and ceremony of some services can possibly have developed from the teaching of a young man in a boat on the sea of Galilee who talked so simply and yet so profoundly and relevantly to very simple people. Others find so much meaningless drivel preached in sermons that they feel it is a waste of time to listen to them and a crime to encourage them." 

Cancer treatment...

On Monday I get a CT scan. This will tell the oncologist and us if the Chemotherapy and Immunotherapy is making any difference to the cancer in my lungs. As soon as the scan is done we will travel to Christchurch where I will get another dose of chemotherapy and Immunotherapy. This will be my fourth dose and initially that was all the chemotherapy I would have. But in his notes from last session I notice the oncologist is thinking of the possibility of two more sessions. That will be six more weeks of "no life" or greatly disrupted life. What will be the gain? I am wondering how I will respond? I am leaving my options open so that I can be open to all the possibilities, but I would be happy if next week's chemotherapy is my last. We will see what happens. A lot will depend on the result of the scan. 

Meanwhile... at the fire station...

I was pleased to be able to return to St John Ambulance and the fire stations to do chaplaincy yesterday. Last Wednesday I was invited for coffee with some fire fighters, and I have had a few phone calls so I have not been completely out of touch. At St John I learned of changes there and simply caught up with people. They expressed pleasure at having me come in and I enjoyed the conversations as staff passed through the lunch room. At the fire station I was warmed by the reception I received. It was good to do normal stuff, introduce myself to four new firefighters, ask about the calls responded to and to give and receive cheek in the normal fire station banter. Good too to hear about people's lives. There was interest but welcome and warmth. There is restructuring happening so I asked one man up in the management circles how he was going and where he fitted in now. We talked about that for awhile and he asked about my cancer treatments.  I shared my adventures with treatments and mentioned that at some stage I would have to pull the pin on chaplaincy. He is Maori and he smiled... "Yeah but... you know that we Maori have a saying... It says that once you are whanau (family) you are always whanau. And you are whanau Dave and around here you always will be." I told him that is how it feels like returning, that I found support and aroha (love) at the fire station and that it was special.

Dunedin Central Fire Station... a unique photo in that the building opposite had been demolished and the concrete pad covered with rain water.