Category: Consciousness

#Benspiration a new craze sweeping the internet

Faux-spiritual fauxtivation is the new black on Instagram. I’ve always fancied myself a hallmarkesque writer of vaguely convincing half truths – and lets face it, that’s what passes for truth these days. So I’ve launched an experiment that is part seeing how gullible the internet is, part fun, part outlet for my cynicism.

benspiration

Will you join me? Will you be #benspired?

You can get your regular dose of #benspiration, or contribute, at the Facebook page, the instagram hashtag #benspiration, or you can follow @benspiration on instagram.

benspiration 2

When I get sick of it I’ll do a bit of a breakdown on what sort of pictures and quotes were the most popular and what that says about the instagram generation. Maybe. Or maybe I’ll be so benspired I’ll start believing the hype.

You heard it here third…

I’m not a big fan of putting too much personal stuff on this blog – it’s bad enough for my family (extended and nuclear), and especially my lovely and patient wife, that I am constantly putting my thoughts and stuff out there, let alone posting about the boring and mundane things I’m eating. I’m not really all that interested in talking about me when there are whole other social networks that exist for exactly that purpose, and for photos of my food (or coffee).

And I struggle with sharing good news on this particular front, and figuring out how to do it in a sensitive way, because we know what it’s like to hear other people’s news while you’re struggling in this area. But I love sharing in other people’s joys, and praying for safe arrivals of new babies… and I expect others are the same… so I guess there’s this.

Soph2.0

We are actually pretty excited about this, even if it’s still in that stage where it hasn’t quite sunk in just what double the responsibility will feel like.

If you’re the praying type – we’d love, and crave, your prayers. Especially for Robyn as she tries to knock over the last three subjects in her Masters between now and mid-year.

If you’re not the praying type, then please send financial gifts or other donations to us (not really).

More sunflowers

Normal services will resume shortly when I hit the books, and the desk, after a nice little break.

Maybe even tonight…

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Sunflowers

We’re on my in-laws farm at the moment. The current crop rotation is a lot of fun. Not only are the sunflowers really nice to look at, they attract birds that need shooting…

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2012 in review

It’s been a big year for our family this year, a big year for me, and a big year for this little corner of the internet.

Think of this post as part Christmas Letter (where I brag about how wonderful my wife and daughter are, and you cringe), and part reflection on another year blogging).

Mostly reviews like this are an opportunity for me to think about how much I’ve got to be thankful for. Life is good. 2012 was a good year.

So in case you want to skip this post – thanks for reading, sharing, commenting, or ignoring St. Eutychus this year, and if you’ve been a part of our life in bigger and different ways in 2012, thanks for that too.

We welcomed our little girl into the world in December 2011, and I was pretty sure that parenting was going to take a toll on my blogging – my capacity and desire to write things.

This was true – my output, by post, is less than half what it was. This year’s 414 posts is a big drop from the 1,007 posts in 2011. But by any other metric this has been an exciting year to blog.

We also changed churches, moved house, saw siblings get married, and kept plowing through life at theological college. It’s been a pretty big year in the real world, and in terms of where the college/future trajectory is at – the rubber is starting to get closer to the road in terms of having to figure out what 2014 and beyond holds.

Hopefully a hoverboard.

Parenting has been an amazing joy – both watching Robyn grow as a wife and mother, and watching Soph get bigger and cuter, and more animated. I’m so blessed to have such wonderful girls in my life. I’m constantly blown away by Robyn’s gifts and love for me and others, and her patience is a big reason I’m still posting stuff here.

Robyn and Soph

Creek Road has been exciting – I really love being part of a big team of people who are passionate about Jesus, and who have been given amazing gifts that they’re willing to use to see people meet him.

College has been pretty rewarding – I’m really excited about what I’ve learned this year, the faculty and other students at QTC have been a big part of giving me a richer understanding of the Bible and the world behind the text – and hopefully that’s informed, more than most other things, some of the content here this year.

I keep reflecting, year on year, about why I blog – and who it benefits. This has been an especially big question for me to answer this year. It certainly benefits me – I love having the opportunity to get my thoughts out of my head, and also watch them develop. I hope that when things click, and my posts are appropriately free of ego, arrogance, and my own chipped shoulders – that they are useful for others, and worthy of sharing – and I especially hope that my time at college, and whatever gifts I might have will be useful for helping people think more clearly about who Jesus is. I’m also trying to find a balance between generating content that is useful to other people – but may not be all that interesting to regular readers – and stuff that excites me and hopefully entertains.

I love blogging. I love the doors it opens. The relationships it creates. The way its helped my ability to express things. And most of all when it does serve people.

It’s hard to find the right balance of writing for an audience of two (God, and me), and writing for an audience of you… but I’m trying to get there, and after 7 years of pretty concerted blogging, and 5,728 posts, I’m feeling like I’ve got a bit of a grip on my voice, the medium, and what I’m on about. Maybe I’m losing it – there’s certainly been a bit of a change in mood, content, and length in these parts this year, and in some way that must represent a change going on in my head, and heart – because I’ve always hoped that the content here in some way reflects who I am.

I’m mindful of some of the limitations of this medium – it’s black and white, it’s impersonal but personal, and the nature of the internet means some people aren’t here for the whole ride but get a hold of a post that’s been shared because it’s part of something controversial – and I’m mindful of some of my own limitations – my desire to argue, my arrogance and desire to be right, my inability to cope well with criticism, and my pride and tendency to spend too much time measuring myself by stupid standards (which is similar to arrogance, but slightly different), so this year I made my “about” page a little more robust, updated my disclaimer and added a comment policy.

So again, thanks heaps for reading, for commenting, and for sharing in 2012. Here are some numbers and stuff for people who like that sort of thing.

St. Eutychus by the Numbers

  • Posts: 414
  • Unique Visitors: 81,979
  • Visits: 111,601
  • Pageviews: 151,093

Some things people liked… (in order)

Where people came from

This table makes for some interesting viewing – special thanks to Simone, David, and Gary for sending people my way – and for all of you who like and share stuff from here on Facebook.

facebook.com

15,119

m.facebook.com

5,003

google.com

4,613

t.co

1,510

google.com.au

1,091

simone1975.blogspot.com.au

653

google.co.uk

464

davidould.net

403

google.ca

277

garyware.me

212

The prodigal turtle…

I was all set to end my blogging hiatus on Friday night, and then our world changed. Briefly. Let me tell you the story…

We have pet turtles (you can read a little about keeping pet turtles here). There names are Franklin (Frankie) and Roosevelt (Rosie). You can’t tell what gender turtles are until they’re a few years old – and, like Swedish parents, we didn’t want to impose gender identities on them – so although they’re female, I sometimes accidentally call them “he,” and that’s pretty interchangeable.

We feed our turtles in a bucket – because their food stinks, and it dramatically cuts down on the amount of time one needs to spend cleaning their tank.

On Friday night, at 2000 (these stories are best recounted in 24 hour time), I put Frankie in the bucket for a feed. I forgot about her. A bit. And at 23:00 I went downstairs. I noticed that our garage door was open… there was a breeze blowing. It was a still night. The moon was full. The scene is now set.

I walked into the man cave – the home of the turtle tank – and the bucket – and reached in to the murky brown bucket to grab Frankie – she’s the bitiest of our turtles – so I was cautious. And the water was stinky. So I didn’t want to keep my hand in the water for too long. But I couldn’t find her.

She had escaped.

Vanished. Like a ninja.

I spent 20 minutes frantically checking every nook, cranny, and sock (a favourite hiding place when they were younger, and free range… It became pretty clear she wasn’t in the house.

These turtles are Robyn’s – they were a birthday present four years ago. She likes them. She was asleep. I had to break the bad news… Frankie was gone. She was outside.

I’d read that if you don’t recover a kidnap victim, or find a missing person, in the first few hours – the prospects aren’t good. I think that was in a Jack Reacher novel. Frankie’s prospects weren’t good.

I grabbed a torch. I spent 2 hours walking around outside checking garden beds, drains, under cars – looking like a creepy prowler. I gave up. I went to bed at 0200.

We had friends coming round for breakfast. I was a little dejected. Frantic. I woke up at 0600. And spent another hour combing the yard looking for our little amphibious friend. A water main had busted up the street – I wondered if we’d find Frankie causing a blockage in the pipe.

But of our turtle there was no sign. I pulled downstairs apart. Turned every stone – and piece of furniture. I spent the day peering out the window, looking for any sign of our turtle – or circling vultures (metaphorically speaking – they were more likely to be myna birds). But alas. There was no sign.

At 1600 I was ready to give up the search. We resolved ourselves to the idea that our little turtle friend was gone. And not coming back.

But still. I stared into the middle distance.

I considered making a lost poster. Maybe a neighbourhood kid had picked her up. It would have looked something like this…

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I was doing anything to cling on to hope. We were picturing Frankie eating food, and frolicking in a local creek. Happy. Consoling ourselves with anything we could hang on to.

But we kept staring off into space. Unfocused eyes glancing at the road – in the hope that we’d see our turtle wandering the street. Adventure over. Coming home to comfort.

At about 1700 – the photographer’s golden hour – the sun hovering above the horizon, casting a radiant glow over our suburban street, I looked again.

I shouted. I jumped. A car swerved. Birds swooped – a flock of them. And there. Wandering casually towards a drain, head tucked under her shell to avoid the dive bombing sky-rats, was Frankie. Covered in bark chips after a day spent hiding in a neighbourhood garden. Making her move. For freedom.

Bravely – I ran through the swarm of aerial cane toads – risking neck and eyes (where I imagine myna birds targetting – they are evil) – to save our little turtle.

Frankie is home. The lost is found. She’s now happily hanging out with her turtle buddy. Home. Safe.

We are happy. Elated. Having traversed the kind of emotional roller coaster you might find in the world’s smallest and lamest emotional theme park. We develop all sorts of emotional attachments to pets – and that’s probably healthy. They bring joy, and they are delightful lives created by God. But this gave me a little bit of a taste of the emotions the father in the famous story of the Prodigal Son was feeling as he looked down the road to see his son returning. The lost found.

And that, dear friends, is why there hasn’t been much action here these last few days.

Turducken 2012 (part 2): The proof is in the eating…

So we left part one with the turbaconucken (a turducken wrapped in bacon) sitting in the fridge ready for cooking and eating. And I don’t want to leave you hanging – it was tasty. And we’re all still alive. So it must have been cooked to bacteria killing perfection.

It started off in our oven at home – glazed with the butter/maple glaze. Uncovered for the first 20 minutes or so, and then under a foil tent – to be honest, I probably blackened it a little more than I would’ve liked. I wanted to be able to see the cooking thermometer.

We moved it to mum and dad’s, and their Weber, where it was introduced to dad’s smart probe – a bluetooth probe that sends an updated temperature to your iPhone in real time. The target number was 180 degrees Fahrenheit  And we got there. Sliced the turbaconucken, and served it up. To some acclaim. It’s fantastic as leftovers too.

 

The Christmas Turbaconucken 2012: Part One

I’ve always wanted to cook a turducken. Or, wrapped in bacon, a Turbaconucken. It’s a chicken, stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey. So this is one to tick off the bucket list.

I don’t have the mad deboning skillz to produce a fully-fledged bird shaped delight. So this year I settled for a Turbaconucken Roll.

I’m cooking it tomorrow, with a maple glaze for our family Christmas. So I’ll post some photos, and if required, a post-mortem, tomorrow.

Special thanks to my sister Susie, her boyfriend Rohan, and my patient wife for bringing this all together.

But here’s our ingredients:

Meat

  • Turkey breast x 4
  • Duck breast (de-skinned – I’m attempting to turn the skin into some duck salt) x 4
  • Chicken breast x 4
  • 500gm Bacon Rashers

Stuffing

  • Breadcrumbs (we just cooked some white bread in the oven for a while and then food processed them).
  • Egg x 3
  • Butter (soft or melted)
  • Garlic
  • Pistachio Dukkah

We didn’t have any onions. So I put quite a bit of garlic in.

Split stuffing into three bowls…

  • 1st bowl – add 1 Jar Cranberry Sauce
  • 2nd bowl – add 3/4 Jar Plum Sauce
  • 3rd bowl – add nothing.

Glaze

  • Equal parts Maple Syrup and Butter.

I also picked up some cooking string to bring this all together.

Method.

  • Mix the ingredients of the stuffing together in a big bowl.
  • Bash the life out of the meat until it is as flat as you can get it.
  • Lay out a grid of string.
  • Lay Bacon rashers in a square.
  • Lay out the Turkey fillets – inside the bacon rashers (ie with some bacon overhanging on all sides).
  • Apply layer of Cranberry stuffing.
  • Lay out Duck fillets.
  • Apply layer of Plum stuffing.
  • Lay out Chicken breasts
  • Apply a pile of plain stuffing “on the fold” of the square you’ve made.
  • Fold like a taco.
  • Tie strings together until you’ve got a nice package.

We wrapped ours in glad wrap. Like a sausage. And I’ll be cooking it in the oven tomorrow. I have a meat thermometer.

I found this post particularly useful.

My 2012 Guide to Christmas for Coffee Snobs

I made an infographic thing yesterday. It took longer than I anticipated, so I feel like I should post it here as well as on thebeanstalker.com.

There’s a bigger version here.

Vale Chappo

People often ask me what it’s like growing up as a preacher’s kid, whether it’s positive or negative.

One of the great benefits for me, that I often recall (either in my head or out loud), when I’m asked these questions, was the chance to see how the gospel spurred on John “Chappo” Chapman, even as an elderly man.

And how he loved people. Even a little kid whose bedroom he was sharing while he was on a preaching gig in a small and relatively inconsequential town in northern New South Wales. Or the same little kid who accosted him at another preaching gig, in another inconsequential country town (while visiting my grandparents). These towns, and this little kid (and his sisters), didn’t seem inconsequential to Chappo. Because they weren’t.

Chappo

Image Credit: Matthias Media

I’ll remember his stories. The ones so familiar to him he could rattle them off with a one word prompt. His made up words. His constant interest in other people. Other people are remembering the lasting impact he had on their ministry, their preaching, their ability to communicate the gospel with passion and verve. He touched lives. Many lives.

It’s a great testimony to the quality of this man, and his ministry, that the outpourings of emotion at his passing on Facebook are mostly expressing joy at the thought of him arriving home. With Jesus. Tonight.

Paul says it best in 2 Timothy 4.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.”

What a lifeWhat a servant… What a hope.

51 Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed— 52 in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. 53 For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. 54 When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.”

55 “Where, O death, is your victory?
    Where, O death, is your sting?”

56 The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. 57 But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Instagram launches web profiles… they’re pretty

Here’s mine. What’s yours?

Instagram Profile

An invitation to share your mad skillz for Mad Skillz week(s)

Long time readers might remember Mad Skillz weeks. They’re an annual movable feast of reader generated goodness, and a great tool for me to pay attention to such trivial matters as exams and the like.

I know you might be reading this in a feed reader and about to move on – but don’t. Not yet. Sharing is caring. Do you care about kittens and babies and stuff? Yes. Great. Do you have something you’re skilled at that you wish other people were skilled at too? Yes. Great.

Also – if I know you read here from time to time, don’t be surprised if I email you asking for your help. Or hit you up on Facebook.

Mad skillz can be serious. They can be light hearted. They can be a professional trade secret, or a hobby that you’ve honed with years or hours, of practice.

If you have a mad skill… then…

mad skillz

It’s like show and tell. Only you’re sharing some sort of incredible, or obscure, talent or skill that you have, that you wish others had – or that is unique and interesting.

Previous years have included:

Do you have a mad skill you want to share that isn’t covered in that eclectic mix?

Do you want to promote your blog, or something you’re up to, via this medium?

I’d love you to. Especially if it is interesting and truly a “mad skill” that I might want to learn. It’s easy.

Just send me a list, or a short post, or a long post, on how to do your mad skill. Pictures are fun too.

How to do Movember

As someone who can’t grow a moustache, no matter how hard I try, I think Movember is follicism, or whatever the hair version of an ism is.

But. It’s for a good cause. So I’m willing to suck it up.

Here are some tips for those of you going the mo.

If there’s anybody out there who wants a cheap plug for your sponsorship page – share it in the comments.

Unhappy day: Coffee and Computers don’t mix after all…

My computer is at death’s door. It’s a sad time. I learned a hard lesson about coffee, computers, and electricity on Tuesday. I was trying to carry a wriggling baby, and some books – and I dropped the books onto a desk. The laws of physics and fluid dynamics took over – and coffee splashed over my laptop.

a sad equation

It died.

I took it to the Apple Store. They temporarily resurrected it, but gave me a bit of paper that declares “not economical to repair” – and a prognosis of “not very long” before the corrosion from the spill renders poor compy inoperable. It is insured to some degree – just how much is yet to become clear. But it looks like I’m in the market for a new computer…

Basically this situation reminds me of the end of this Strongbad’s Email 78.

This one also seems germain to the situation at hand.

I’ve also had this song in my head since.

Why you must read Macarisms (if you don’t already)

Dave McDonald has been blogging his way through a battle with cancer – he’s apparently up to 80,000 words worth of reflecting on the fight, and his faith in Jesus as it goes on (hopefully for many years to come).

Dave has been faithfully serving Jesus in Canberra for many years. He’s a good, long term, family friend, a contemporary of my dad’s, and his blog is poignant, candid, and an incredible reminder of what this medium can be – it’s gospel centred and encouraging, it’s a must read for everybody, but of particular value for those who need to be reminded to pray for, and think of, those suffering from terminal or chronic illness, and thinking about how to care for, or experience, suffering when life goes in a different direction.

I’ve tried to write a post telling you to read his blog a couple of times – but words failed me. Which is, given the abundance of words stored in the archives of this blog, a surprise, for you and me both. The richness of Dave’s reflections, and the generosity of sharing them publicly, is something pretty special and encouraging.

His latest post – on the legacy of words that its increasingly possible for any modern person, especially a preacher, to build – is a fantastic example of the kind of things you’ll read at Macarisms

“I’m keen to leave my children, and my children’s children, a legacy with my words. It’s kind of nice that each of them currently follow the blog and they’ll be able to read back over things once I’m gone. It’s pretty special that they’ll even be able to listen to my voice if they download talks. But it’s the content of what I say that’s important. My prayer is that I’ll leave a legacy that flows from my words and is supported by my life. I desire to point beyond myself to the one and only God who loves each one of them. I want to share the good news of Jesus, his life, his words, his death, and his resurrection, and show them why I believe it. I want to speak about the goodness of God in the face of suffering and evil, and show the true joy that comes from confidence and contentment in God.”

I hope that what I write on my blog, and elsewhere, gives people a pretty good picture of who I am, but ultimately I hope that it’ll achieve the purposes Dave articulates in that quote. I want people to know Jesus.

He ends with a powerful reminder that God has left us a living legacy in the personification of his word – Jesus, and the good news of the gospel.

“I know that even if I were to write books and archive my talks in the safest of places, there will come a time when my words are no longer remembered. That’s just the way things go. But there are also some words that will never be wasted, words that will always achieve their purpose, words that will endure and live forever. The Apostle Peter wrote to Christians in the first century…

23 For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable,through the living and enduring word of God24 For,

“All people are like grass,
and all their glory is like the flowers of the field;
the grass withers and the flowers fall,
25     but the word of the Lord endures forever.”

And this is the word that was preached to you.
(1Peter 1:23-25, my emphasis.)