Monthly Archives: May 2012

I want to be a clone …pt 4 Its harder to believe than not to

It’s harder to believe than not to.

I have total respect for those who stand up for their faith under almost constant attack.

There is a young lady I know who gets bombarded with insults by her Facebook “friends” any time she mentions church and in this digital age there is no getting away from it, with tweets, Facebook posts, email and SMS coming straight to your phone, where ever you are. Yet time and time again she calmly responds in a respectful and sincere way. I would just tell them to “go away” using less than Biblical language, the sort that rhymes with “Cough” and “Truck”, but hey, that’s me. For her, and people like her, who go to school and uni and face abuse, it’s far harder to believe than not to.

I work in an environment where faith in Jesus is accepted, if not expected. I don’t go to work everyday and get called “Jesus Freak” or “Bible Basher” but I know plenty who do. Who dread Monday mornings because of the questions they will get about their weekend, and the ridicule they will receive from the answers. For them it is definitely harder to believe than not to.

I played a sport where, if someone didn’t like my Christianity it was very easy to ‘remind’ them of the love God has for them during training. I can honestly say I never did anything I am ashamed of but I may have put in a few harder tackles after people ‘questioned’ (and I use that word in its broadest possible sense) my faith. After a few weeks my views where tolerated and the my nickname, ‘Padre’  was used out of friendship and not as a joke.

I am one of the lucky ones, taught by my father to stand up and fight for what I believed, many find it more difficult. Religious tolerance usually came quite quickly to any team I played for, others are not so lucky.  Many people do not have understanding team mates, and find camaraderie lacking when it comes to Christian faith. They are ones who find it harder to believe than not to.

If you will allow me a quick digression (actually I don’t care if you will allow me to or not, I’m going to digress I’m writing this Blog). One of the first teams I played for in Australia was made up mainly of Samoans. Lovely people, great team mates, brilliant friends. Now if you know any Samoans I’m sure you’ll agree when I say they are not known for being small. Anoké, the second smallest man on the team, after me, was 6ft 1inch. They are BIG boys. Samoa is a very Christian country, 95% of people go to church. The boys found out that I was a minister and asked if I would lead a prayer group before each game. I didn’t feel like saying no and it was not because of the nine 6ft plus mountains of Islander muscle towering over me when the question was asked. So that’s what we did.

Before every game the ten of us would go off to one side of the ground and have a little prayer. Occasionally, if they knew the other team, some other Samoans would join us. We never prayed for victory  (God doesn’t take sides in rugby games) only for a safe game and for anyone one we knew who needed our prayers. It was a lovely little ritual that drew us closer together and made us greater friends. I miss it.

Anyway, being a mouthy little scrum half, I used to get into a few scuffles on the pitch. One of the worst times was a fight, (it was a real, fists up fight) with a scrum half from another team (which shall remain nameless). It was me who started it, I admit, with just reason though, he was cheating. Just to be clear, it was me who turned round and smacked him, rather squarely, in the jaw. (I was testing his Christianity, I wanted to see if he would turn the other cheek, he didn’t.) He hit me back, we went to ground and a few other blows were struck, on both sides. We stood up about to go at it again when he dropped his hands and stopped. Wondering why I went in for another go but was pulled back by a big arm on my shoulder. I turned to see 10 big, muscle bound, man mountains called Samoans behind me, backing me up, ready to step in and ‘save’ the Padre! (One of them was from the other team!) I was touched – it was a really nice gesture from my team-mates and their friend. I got sent off for my troubles but it was nice to know that I was not going to be fighting the good fight alone!

I am not one who finds it harder to believe than not to. I am one of the fortunate ones. Most Christians face the truth of their faith day by day because they get questioned about it, and even though I do it comes with my job. For most other people, those who aren’t ministers or bishops, their living of the faith is a daily calling to take up the cross and face their tormentors, in school, in Uni, in work even at play.

This song is for them. Here is what Steve Taylor says about this song –

“A personal favorite. I travelled to London for the chamber orchestra session conducted by very legendary orchestral arranger Del Newman (think Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” among a myriad of others). The classical setting seemed appropriate, especially since the haunting melody in the introduction was lifted from Sergei Rachmaninoff’s now-public domain.

The song takes its title from a line found in the collected letters of Flannery O’Connor, acclaimed short-story writer and novelist from Georgia. Her literary friends in New York had a hard time believing that a writer of her caliber could profess to be something as common and unfashionable as a Christian. She reacts in her letter to the criticism that Christianity’s primary function is as a crutch for the weak-spirited, writing how they don’t understand the cost involved in following Jesus, that “it’s much harder to believe than not to believe.”

The quote stuck. The cost of discipleship–the ideal of taking up your cross everyday and following Jesus–makes it hard to believe, because Christianity demands things from us that we don’t naturally want to give. In the words of playwrite Dennis Potter, “There is, in the end, no such thing as a simple faith.””

Here are the lyrics and the song itself…

Nothing is colder than the winds of change

Where the chill numbs the dreamer till a shadow remains

Among the ruins lies your tortured soul

Was it lost there

Or did your will surrender control?

Shivering with doubts that were left unattended

So you toss away the cloak that you should have mended

Don’t you know by now why the chosen are few?

It’s harder to believe than not to

Harder to believe than not to

It was a confidence that got you by

When you know you believed it, but you didn’t know why

No one imagines it will come to this

But it gets so hard when people don’t want to listen

Shivering with doubts that you left unattended

So you toss away the cloak that you should have mended

Don’t you know by now why the chosen are few?

It’s harder to believe than not to

Some stay paralyzed until they succumb

Others do what they feel, but their senses are numb

Some get trampled by the pious throng

Still they limp along

Are you sturdy enough to move to the front?

Is it nods of approval or the truth that you want?

And if they call it a crutch, then you walk with pride

Your accusers have always been afraid to go outside

They shiver with doubts that were left unattended

Then they toss away the cloak that they should have mended

You know by now why the chosen are few

It’s harder to believe than not to

I believe.

http://youtu.be/-l42chS9glw

It IS harder to believe than not to. I know it can be hard to carry our cross.

Are you ready to believe?

I want to be a clone …pt 4 Its harder to believe than not to

It’s harder to believe than not to.

I have total respect for those who stand up for their faith under almost constant attack.

There is a young lady I know who gets bombarded with insults by her Facebook “friends” any time she mentions church and in this digital age there is no getting away from it, with tweets, Facebook posts, email and SMS coming straight to your phone, where ever you are. Yet time and time again she calmly responds in a respectful and sincere way. I would just tell them to “go away” using less than Biblical language, the sort that rhymes with “Cough” and “Truck”, but hey, that’s me. For her, and people like her, who go to school and uni and face abuse, it’s far harder to believe than not to.

I work in an environment where faith in Jesus is accepted, if not expected. I don’t go to work everyday and get called “Jesus Freak” or “Bible Basher” but I know plenty who do. Who dread Monday mornings because of the questions they will get about their weekend, and the ridicule they will receive from the answers. For them it is definitely harder to believe than not to.

I played a sport where, if someone didn’t like my Christianity it was very easy to ‘remind’ them of the love God has for them during training. I can honestly say I never did anything I am ashamed of but I may have put in a few harder tackles after people ‘questioned’ (and I use that word in its broadest possible sense) my faith. After a few weeks my views where tolerated and the my nickname, ‘Padre’  was used out of friendship and not as a joke.

I am one of the lucky ones, taught by my father to stand up and fight for what I believed, many find it more difficult. Religious tolerance usually came quite quickly to any team I played for, others are not so lucky.  Many people do not have understanding team mates, and find camaraderie lacking when it comes to Christian faith. They are ones who find it harder to believe than not to.

If you will allow me a quick digression (actually I don’t care if you will allow me to or not, I’m going to digress I’m writing this Blog). One of the first teams I played for in Australia was made up mainly of Samoans. Lovely people, great team mates, brilliant friends. Now if you know any Samoans I’m sure you’ll agree when I say they are not known for being small. Anoké, the second smallest man on the team, after me, was 6ft 1inch. They are BIG boys. Samoa is a very Christian country, 95% of people go to church. The boys found out that I was a minister and asked if I would lead a prayer group before each game. I didn’t feel like saying no and it was not because of the nine 6ft plus mountains of Islander muscle towering over me when the question was asked. So that’s what we did.

Before every game the ten of us would go off to one side of the ground and have a little prayer. Occasionally, if they knew the other team, some other Samoans would join us. We never prayed for victory  (God doesn’t take sides in rugby games) only for a safe game and for anyone one we knew who needed our prayers. It was a lovely little ritual that drew us closer together and made us greater friends. I miss it.

Anyway, being a mouthy little scrum half, I used to get into a few scuffles on the pitch. One of the worst times was a fight, (it was a real, fists up fight) with a scrum half from another team (which shall remain nameless). It was me who started it, I admit, with just reason though, he was cheating. Just to be clear, it was me who turned round and smacked him, rather squarely, in the jaw. (I was testing his Christianity, I wanted to see if he would turn the other cheek, he didn’t.) He hit me back, we went to ground and a few other blows were struck, on both sides. We stood up about to go at it again when he dropped his hands and stopped. Wondering why I went in for another go but was pulled back by a big arm on my shoulder. I turned to see 10 big, muscle bound, man mountains called Samoans behind me, backing me up, ready to step in and ‘save’ the Padre! (One of them was from the other team!) I was touched – it was a really nice gesture from my team-mates and their friend. I got sent off for my troubles but it was nice to know that I was not going to be fighting the good fight alone!

I am not one who finds it harder to believe than not to. I am one of the fortunate ones. Most Christians face the truth of their faith day by day because they get questioned about it, and even though I do it comes with my job. For most other people, those who aren’t ministers or bishops, their living of the faith is a daily calling to take up the cross and face their tormentors, in school, in Uni, in work even at play.

This song is for them. Here is what Steve Taylor says about this song –

“A personal favorite. I travelled to London for the chamber orchestra session conducted by very legendary orchestral arranger Del Newman (think Elton John’s “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” among a myriad of others). The classical setting seemed appropriate, especially since the haunting melody in the introduction was lifted from Sergei Rachmaninoff’s now-public domain.

The song takes its title from a line found in the collected letters of Flannery O’Connor, acclaimed short-story writer and novelist from Georgia. Her literary friends in New York had a hard time believing that a writer of her caliber could profess to be something as common and unfashionable as a Christian. She reacts in her letter to the criticism that Christianity’s primary function is as a crutch for the weak-spirited, writing how they don’t understand the cost involved in following Jesus, that “it’s much harder to believe than not to believe.”

The quote stuck. The cost of discipleship–the ideal of taking up your cross everyday and following Jesus–makes it hard to believe, because Christianity demands things from us that we don’t naturally want to give. In the words of playwrite Dennis Potter, “There is, in the end, no such thing as a simple faith.””

Here are the lyrics and the song itself…

Nothing is colder than the winds of change

Where the chill numbs the dreamer till a shadow remains

Among the ruins lies your tortured soul

Was it lost there

Or did your will surrender control?

Shivering with doubts that were left unattended

So you toss away the cloak that you should have mended

Don’t you know by now why the chosen are few?

It’s harder to believe than not to

Harder to believe than not to

It was a confidence that got you by

When you know you believed it, but you didn’t know why

No one imagines it will come to this

But it gets so hard when people don’t want to listen

Shivering with doubts that you left unattended

So you toss away the cloak that you should have mended

Don’t you know by now why the chosen are few?

It’s harder to believe than not to

Some stay paralyzed until they succumb

Others do what they feel, but their senses are numb

Some get trampled by the pious throng

Still they limp along

Are you sturdy enough to move to the front?

Is it nods of approval or the truth that you want?

And if they call it a crutch, then you walk with pride

Your accusers have always been afraid to go outside

They shiver with doubts that were left unattended

Then they toss away the cloak that they should have mended

You know by now why the chosen are few

It’s harder to believe than not to

I believe.

It IS harder to believe than not to. I know it can be hard to carry our cross.

Are you ready to believe?