why the tree?

A question has turned up on several blogs that I visit and it sounds like this: "Why did God put that tree there?"

Why was there a tree that gave man a chance to choose to disobey God? Why did God not choose to avoid the fall of man?

I have a suspicion that part of the reason is that He wanted us to know the side of Him that is called Grace. Would we ever have known without that tree?

I'm planning to read Philip Yancey's book "What's so amazing about grace?" after "Where is God when it hurts?". I've had both books for a long, long time and I hope I won't get an overdose if I read them one after the other. An overdose of good stuff to ponder, that is. I'll let you know...

In the mean time, if anyone has an idea of why that tree had to be in the garden, do let me know!

soccer and soap

Sunday evening on my way home with a detour, I met some Brazilians who invited me to watch Brazil-Croatia in the World Cup, the match that was on last night. I ended up going there and taking GJ along and we had the time of our lives. Those Brazilians know how to celebrate soccer! They came with drums and dancing girls dressed in their flag. I’ll support them solely because their fans are that cool! So today we’re going to get ourselves some Brazilian shirts, so that next time we won’t feel like the odd ones out.

We went to my place afterwards and got into a slightly philosophic mood. My housemate had left her soap bubble gear in my room and so GJ was blowing through the plastic circle creating beautiful things and being captivated.

As we watched the soap bubbles he started pointing out how perfect they are: Perfectly round, because they take up the most convenient shape (ever seen a soap bubble turn out triangular or star-shaped?), thin and fragile, but floating, because they are that light.

We watched two of them interfere with each other and bounce off harmoniously, without breaking. “People should be like soap bubbles,” GJ concluded. “When they meet they don’t need to hurt each other.”

I reckon you could build sermons on this. Does anyone here want to have a go? I'm still thinking about the way they reflect the light that shines on them.

For further study on the phenomena of soap bubbles, I would direct you to the website “Floating Soap Bubbles”.

Moishe, Mouskovitz and heaven

Well, I wasn’t sure what to call him...I thought either one of those names would do. Turns out I can use both, since there’s been two of them instead of one. Perhaps this was an effort to “name my fear”. It’s bad. I think MK’s should be relatively fearless when it comes to little critters, but I am much afraid of mice. Quite terrified even.

I tell you this so that you take it seriously and don’t ever tease me about it, because if you do my faith in humanity will be severely damaged. Forgiveness yes, but my forgiveness as a person only reaches to a certain extend and I think putting a mouse near me is really crossing the boundary there.

Some guys have been very good to me by making it their expedition to catch Moishe and Mouskovitz. They’re gone now…heaven…I’m sure my friends are also grateful, because I haven’t talked about much else recently. (c;

Anyway, I’ve been making a fool of myself in a number of ways lately. Wolter mentioned the “hitchhike to heaven”. I went with a guy called Job to ask people at the train station whether they could show us the way. This led to some interesting conversations. One man even thought he didn’t need heaven because in his life-time scientists are bound to invent something to stop the ageing process and allow us to live forever!

It’s cool to go out and talk to people randomly about what they believe. It’s amazing how they take time to think about something that really isn’t very much on their minds (or maybe it is somehow, but it doesn’t show). Although I do find it frustrating that heaven isn’t real for them as it is for me. It helps to know where you’re going, if you want to get there.

Check out www.Breeze.be/hemel
(in Dutch)

questions i ask myself

Psalm 139

لأَنَّكَ أَنْتَ قَدْ كَوَّنْتَ كُلْيَتَيَّ. نَسَجْتَنِي دَاخِلَ بَطْنِ أُمِّي. 13

14 أَحْمَدُكَ لأَنَّكَ صَنَعْتَنِي بِإِعْجَازِكَ الْمُدْهِشِ. مَا أَعْجَبَ أَعْمَالَكَ وَنَفْسِي تَعْلَمُ ذَلِكَ يَقِيناً.

13 For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.

14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

Source: BibleGateway.com

The other day I witnessed the birth of a tiny Arab boy. It was just a few minutes after he was born, when his father took him in his arms and started whispering Quranic blessings in his ear. I was impressed.

I'm sure most baby's born into Christian families are blessed in prayer shortly after their birth, but I have not seen Christian's being so openly thankful to God in the delivery room. We dedicate our children, but in our own Christian environment and not with the gynaecologist still there to witness this.

I don't know...I suddenly wished that we would have more traditions like the Muslims do, that would make it so obvious to the world around us to see who we are. Perhaps it would motivate us to live our lives more in accordance with what we believe. Maybe it would make us more alien to people around us, which is not what I'd like to see happening. And I do wonder how much of what the Muslim father does, is culture and no longer true conviction?

How convicted are we of it being truly worth it to serve God? How do we let it show? Where is the balance between being adapted to the world we live in and being completely different as followers of Jesus? There are plenty of people who are "good people" for no reason. So how can we be a light in this world? How does our thankfulness to God shine out?

memories

Honestly, I'm quite disappointed with my photos of the wedding in Sweden. Not with this one though. It shows how some people don't change more than they're supposed to. (c;
Mirjam was a beautiful bride, but her shoes were...ehm, not there mostly (and when they were they were the simplest of flip flops). Her feet are the same as when I met her. They once inspired me to write a song about the feet that bring good news.

spring then

Yeah, the sun is finally shining again (it always comes after the rain, hey?), which makes me all the more ecstatic about life. No, I'm not always on a high, but there are times when I do think I'll burst if I get any happier than I am.

I was in Sweden the weekend before last and it was a perfect trip. Went there to see two friends get married while fearing it would all be too short. Mirjam is a good friend from Doulos, and she shares with Gustav this crazy love for the Arab world. I can understand that. They are a cool couple and it was so much fun to see them together. And since I will be seeing them again, I think the timing was perfect.

I stayed in a backstreet area of Stockholm with some Doulos girls. The morning after the wedding we had breakfast outside in the sun in our pyjama's. Scandinavia and warmth...and I was reminded of random things we used to do in Africa. This was an area where most Sweeds would not go for breakfast, but somehow I felt at home.

Met up with a bunch of people I haven't seen for about three years. So cool to see them happy and still on fire for God. So cool to see that we still have things in common and that we haven't forgotten the good times we've shared.

Then I returned to Belgium to a group of friends I won't be saying goodbye to for a while yet. That feels good.

new life

Hard to post something on real-life births and not sound all foggy and stuff. I should spare you the details of the mess it is!

Anyway, I’m doing my first internship at the delivery-room and I have to say: “I love the job that will be mine!” Well, that is an encouraging thing to find when you have been studying something for a while.

It’s obvious that I’m not yet a qualified midwife. There’s so many things I’m doing for the first time and with a bunch of experienced people watching it can be nerve-wrecking. Plus I’m supposed to guide people through an experience that is new for them, but sometimes even newer for me.

Well, I don’t always know what the gynaecologist is asking me to do even, so that adds to the mess in my head. All this will get better I guess…but I taste the rush of adrenaline and think I could get addicted.

It’s awesome to go with people through such a huge life-event. It’s a challenge to have them enjoy it as much as possible, while you learn to stay alert and make sure it’s a kind of smooth delivery.

After a lot of effort we welcome new life into a world that many aren’t very content with in the first place. At that moment things are somehow simplified and we are contented people. A child is born alive…and life is worth living.

Good Friday

Freaky picture. Reminds me of a ku klux clan ceremony. It’s not though. It’s a photograph that was taken at a Good Friday procession in Mosta, Malta in 2004. I still lived in Malta in that year and witnessed other processions. The Maltese love to dress up! If they were the inhabitants of Holland, I’d imagine them dressing up as Nazi’s to replay how their country was invaded during the Second World War every year. (c:

In a way, I suppose it is cool how many Maltese are involved yearly in remembering the death of Christ. Yet there is something about the way they do it that makes me so sad.
One of my first impressions of Malta was another one of these processions, shown on Dutch television, before I lived there. There were more of these white-robed guys in that procession. They walked bare-foot, with iron chains around their legs, dragging on iron balls like the ghosts that are stereotypical to old castles. This was their way of doing penance for their sins.

You know, Malta isn’t even so bad compared to some countries. People have had themselves crucified as a way of doing penance for their sins. In many religions, people torture themselves in an effort to somehow earn salvation.

Jesus died so that there would be no need for this. He died because there is nothing we can do to pay for our own sins. Our debt is too great before God. So He paid it all on the cross. If we refuse to except that gift and try to earn it, we make His sacrifice useless. How hurtful!

I remember being small and afraid of many things. Sometimes I think I was wiser then, than I am today. I remember crying because I kept thinking of what Jesus did for me. I remember trying to find shelter near Him when I got scared in the dark. He’s always been there. Good Friday reminds me of what He did for me. It is odd that I seem to need this reminder. My love for Him is small, my thankfulness insignificant. Yet He forgives me.


Isaiah 53:5
But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.

"bistermeisje"

Introducing to you: the art of Irene, my Belgian "cabin-mate".

freedom

Talking to Wolter about his post on "Hitchhike to heaven", I was reminded of what I've learnt about freedom.

Bob Dylan wrote: "It may be the devil or it may be the Lord, but you're gonna have to serve somebody."
"Gotta serve somebody" is not my personal favourite by Dylan, but he made a good point. You are never free to do whatever you want. But you can choose what you serve.

"Freedom is having the strength to do what you know you ought to do."

Josh McDowell in 'More than a carpenter'

You're in bondage if you know what you should do, but can't. You're in bondage if you think you're doing what you want to do, when you're only serving your own urges.

I was 19 when I learnt one of my major lessons on freedom and when I came face to face with grace in a way that I hadn't known before. I met Jesus at a much younger age, but I'll never forget the day when I realised anew what amazing gift He'd given me. It seemed like I was "born again, again".

It was at a conference and I was struggling to keep myself awake during the message, because every night was shorter and more social. The message was about Peter (Matthew 14: 25-33) and afterwards I was amazed at what had gotten through to my sleeping mind. It was like God decided to speak to me anyway, even if I wasn't listening very much.

It was like I suddenly saw just how free I was and it was awesome! See, what I learnt from Peter is this:
With faith like a child we are willing to be corrected and humbled in order to grow and we're free to be ourselves, because it's ok to fall, as long as we get up again.

Freedom isn't doing whatever I feel like at the moment. I know I hurt myself when I make the mistake to think that it is. True freedom is being free from me, from guilt, from fear of failing. It makes me free to serve God and others, and not my own sinful desires. There is satisfaction and joy in that.