Christmas Number 1 2010...

It has been a long time since I last blogged - I'm sure you coped.

One of my friends, though perhaps the following will put question to that label, recently brought my attention to something that is currently becoming viral; namely, 3 minutes and 50 seconds of pure 'genius' provided courtesy of a certain Maxine Swaby. Written by Patrick McNeill, "Pardon Me" is a song and music video that will change your life - if for no other reason than you will find yourself whistling it almost every time there is nothing else to do - and even sometimes when there is...

This comes with what may seem an attempted comedic warning. However, let me assure you, this is gravely serious. Please, only listen to this if you think you can cope. Furthermore, I hereby take absolutely no responsibility for this decision of yours. If you click, be it on your head - please do not hate me for it. Okay...



And for those of you who are reading this on facebook, or whatever, where the embedded video may not work, here is the link: Pardon Me

Now, where can we possibly begin? Cruelty is certainly an option, but I think a terribly cheap one. However, neither is a sensible critique or review an option - that would cost too much... Should I mention that it looks like she went into a hairdressers and asked for "everything"? I won't, as that is unnecessarily cruel. I also, shouldn't spend too much time questioning the directing techniques, or the sudden appearance of deer at the end. Instead I'm going to invoke "Poe's Law".

Poe's Law points out that it is hard to tell parodies of fundamentalism (or, more generally, any crackpot theory) from the real thing, since they both seem equally insane. Conversely, real fundamentalism can easily be mistaken for a parody of fundamentalism. Of course, Pardon Me hardly falls under the label of fundamentalism, nor a crackpot theory. Yet, I think the law still applies. There are so many poor, and downright bizarre things that can be found on the internet, that I find it plausible (even hopeful!!) that this is some sort of parody. I know deep inside (however impossible that actually is) that Pardon Me is as genuine as they come. And I am reminded of that every 20 minutes when I find myself humming it through. Again. Someone help me for goodness sake.

I suppose, the point of this little rant is that people are weird. I don't understand people. However, it is that strangeness that gives me some little bit of hope. That actually, I'm quite normal - because I'm weird. To misquote The Incredibles "If everyone is weird, then no-one is." The potential for anarchy is terrifyingly wonderful, however. To truly get one over on the X-Factor crowd, this should be campaigned for a Christmas number 1... besides, it seems fitting that a follow up to "F### you I won't do what you tell me" should be, "Pardon Me".

This video is really getting viral now (in every meaning of the word). I've just been made aware of many "Re:Pardon Me" videos (even a Re:Re:Re:Pardon Me...). It's generating a fair amount of talk too. One person asking, and seemingly not seeing the ironic side of his suggestion, that due to her pronunciation of certain words, she may be deaf. Yes. Well done. A deaf person singing a song called "Pardon Me"... the weirdness continues...

Canon Andrew White

The Times Online recently published a story about Canon Andrew White's ministry out in Baghdad. He truly is an amazing person - and not just because he looks ever-so-slightly like Morpheus from the Matrix. I had the privilege of meeting and "working" with him a few years ago at a conference in Solihull (of all places!). Not quite the Black Country (where I was living at the time) and certainly not quite Baghdad! Either way, we both ended up there. Him, because he is an inspiring person and had an amazing message to bring; me, because the drummer in my band was playing in the worship band and I was stepping in last minute for a bass player who couldn't make it!!

At that particular time, he was regularly meeting up with Yasser Arafat. For some reason that he could not quite understand, Andrew's son had taken a particular liking for Arafat and always would ask that his best wishes be passed on whenever Andrew was going to speak with him! In return, Arafat gave Andrew's son one of his turbans for his birthday! That may seem bizarre, but it did a world of good for me. It highlighted how we completely vilify people who are evil, and turn them into less-than-humans. Andrew's son, though, knew the truth: these people are exactly human, and as such are no more in need of God's grace than me, or you, or Canon Andrew White! And are no less deserving of love from those who claim to follow Christ. Remember, as Shane Claiborne has popularly pointed out, even St. Paul began as a terrorist... (of sorts...)

Please pray for the work that Andrew is doing out in Baghdad. It must be so difficult. His family live back in England, and he is also suffering with Multiple Sclerosis. Yet he carries on. His church is attended by over 2000 people, from all denominations, and indeed some are even from other faiths!! As he continues to be involved in negotiating peace and the release of victims of kidnapping, it is glaringly obvious (at least to me) that the world is a better place for this amazing guy.

Finally, on a more positive note, I think this story completely sums up both sides of Andrew's life (i.e. his approachable, everyday-man side and his extremely important global ministry side!). During one of the breaks of the Solihull conference, we were sat in the back room eating from a few bags of greasy chips bought from the local chippie (if Solihull has such a thing...!). Eating, laughing and telling jokes, we were all getting on very well. Midway through Andrew telling us a joke about "an Englishman, Irishman and Scotsman" his mobile phone rang. He paused from his joke to look at the caller-ID. "Oh" he said. "I'd better take this; it's the Whitehouse". And off he went into a back room! Classic.

Honour and privilege

Well, it's 03:32 and I am yet again unable to sleep due to horrific back pain. I shall go and see how the doctor is doing soon. However, my problems have been put into perspective with the very sad news of hearing that a good friend passed away on Thursday morning.

I suppose I am using this blog as a bit of an outlet regarding the whole situation, so please forgive the almost inevitable lack of cohesive writing that will follow.

Rosaleen was a wonderful and much loved member of the church I attend, and although I have not had chance to gauge the reaction of the church to her passing, I assume it was fairly similar across the board to my wife's: speechlessness and tears. Having been on holiday, we only found out yesterday when we returned; and the sudden nature of it all seems a little overwhelming.

I wish to respect her dignity (as well as her husband's) by not going into any real details of what happened. The point of this blog is to reflect theologically on the situations that life (or should I say God?) throws my way. So, in that light, let me briefly mention what I have been thinking.

During our holiday in Cornwall (specifically, Bude - lovely place) me and my wife wrote a song together for the first time. (I shall be leading worship at a church's conference in a few weeks and I usually try to write a couple of songs for that.) Anyway, the theme of the week, and that of the song, is the Power of the Resurrection. So, having brushed up on 1 Corinthians 15 we set to work on writing the song. The main idea was that since Christ has risen from the dead already, and therefore death has been defeated, we really have no fear in death. All in all we were quite happy with it.

So - we really have no fear in death. So why are we generally so afraid of it? I am sure that I have met few people who are genuinely not fearful of death. Sometimes I try to qualify and relativise my fear of death by stating that it is not death itself that I fear, but what will happen to those I will leave behind - as if God is perfectly capable of dealing with my passing away, but not necessarily capable of looking after those still alive (this kind of links with my thoughts that it is easier to die for Jesus than to live for Him - but that's for another time perhaps).

Rosaleen spent many years living a radical life for Jesus. She was such a great person to know, and just as great to have on board with anything the church was doing: usually the first to be bold enough to disagree with a decision and throw the proverbial, but always necessary, spanner in the works! Yet always so warm and gentle to provide the greatest of encouragement. She will be sorely missed.

The story doesn't end there though, and it really doesn't. Rosaleen has finally met her Lord. The lifetime goal of every Christian, and she is now living in it. The theology of the afterlife is a fun, but complicated study - which I shall certainly not go into here - however, whether Rosaleen is with Christ right now or not (my understanding is that she is), she will certainly be raised on the day Jesus returns, she will be made like Him, and inherit her place in the New Heaven and the New Earth. Tom Wright's book Surprised by Hope speaks of the afterlife happening in stages (kind of) and death is merely a level of this. Of course, my theology here could be wrong - like I said, the afterlife is a strange but wonderful study - but what I am absolutely certain about is that Rosaleen is in the hands of the God who is powerful beyond limit, and loving beyond comprehension; and so is her husband; and so are we.

It was an honour and a privilege to have shared a place in space and time with such a great person.