The song with the (frankly) odd line that “you say it best when you say nothing at all” could be open to all sorts of misinterpretation, but it’s good advice for preachers – an occupation where talking is one of the necessities of the job. But sometimes, maybe, silence is best, as I suggest in this blog written for the Kiwimade Preaching website.
Since 1997 the Asia New Zealand Foundation has surveyed New Zealanders’ attitudes to Asia and Asian peoples. Analysing those surveys, my colleagues Professors Paul Spoonley, Phil Gendall and I look at how these attitudes have changed over time, what has influenced that change, and what it might mean going forward, in this report.
Psalm 121 is one of the best known biblical passages, beginning with the question “I look unto the hills, from whence cometh my help?” (to use the KJV translation.) It’s a Psalm, though, that goes on to wonderfully and helpfully answer that question, and provided the text for a sermon I recently gave, which you can listen to here.
Martin Jacques, the author of When China Rules the World, recently visited New Zealand as a guest of Massey University and Westpac Bank. What he raised during his visit, and through his book, provoked me to write this piece on New Zealand, China and the new world order.
Why am I Christian? I explain, in this sermon (mp3) at The Anchor Church on September 15th.
Here is my latest devotional for The Anchor Church newsletter, called “Your Choice“
Last year I was invited by the Wellington Theological Consortium to participate in a forum on Unity and Diversity. My prepared remarks on the topic of “Welcome one another: A Christian response to sojourners in Aotearoa New Zealand” are now online.
In addition, Lisa Beech gave a deeply moving and compelling presentation on The Poverty of the Many, also online
Here is my latest devotional, written for The Anchor Church: “It’s the thought that counts“.
After years of providing cuts, bones, and bespoke meals of meat, the local Tawa butchery recently closed its doors.
No more shall we see the Butcher’s apron flecked with the blood of recently departed cows.
No more shall we hear the piercing sound of knives being sharpened, one against the other.
No more shall the lamb lie down next to the lion, or at least the fowl.
No more shall Christmas hams be prepared, pecked and packaged for consumption on hot summer days.
No more shall lard or offal, brisket or joint be found by the discerning chef.
No more shall a walk down the Main Road be paused by a sign offering a special on sausages.
No more shall the local Butcher remember my name, which, given my name, is a moment of deep sadness.
No more shall the little David, with his slingshot full of cold cuts, face victoriously the great Goliath of supermarket chains with their rows upon rows of cheap mince.
For all we, like sheep, have gone astray.
The cowbells have fallen silent.
And we, bereft, like a lamb to the slaughter, faced now with inferior meat in our kitchens and on our barbecues, recall that great poet: ours is not to question why, ours is just to do and fry.