Do you sit face-to-face or side-by-side with God? Does your gender help you choose?

How do you like to communicate?

If you’re sitting with someone, especially a friend, how do you sit?

Generally, women will sit opposite each other - face-to-face.

Men, alternately, tend to sit side-by-side.

As a result, women have and can discern stronger emotional connections while men have a more casual connection.

But, are these conversational dynamics reflected in our relationship with God?

Are they mirrored in the way we pray?

I recall an incident which reflected this when I was in senior high.

Back then, perfectly matching most church dynamics, I was the only male in a group mainly made up of females (I was outnumbered around 6:1).

For some reason we were discussing prayer and the mental images we get when we pray.

For most of the other members present, they pictured a majestic, transcendent, picture of throne rooms and grander.

I pictured sitting next to Jesus, on a balcony, having a beer. Far more incarnational.

My response was not appreciated.

Apparently, I wasn’t showing enough respect.

I was being too casual.

But, this image perfectly encapsulates male connection.

And, it baffled the ladies.

Why? Because I was valuing communication with God like a bloke.

They valued a more feminine communication style when it came to God.

So, does the way you prefer to communicate shape the way you also pray?

If you prefer action or problem solving - which tend to be more masculine traits - then your prayers will tend to be more detailed-oriented.

If you communicate in a more empathetic or nurturing manner, then your prayers will tend towards something more pastoral.

I wonder if churches take this into account when they consider who lead prayer in church.

You need to both relax in and fight for God’s sovereignty

R.G.I.C.

Relax, God’s in Charge.

This is something which I recited often as a young adult.

Jobs? R.G.I.C.

Dating? R.G.I.C.

Ministry? R.G.I.C.

But, I’ll admit now that I’m more grizzled, it can be tough to relax in God’s sovereignty.

Sometimes, you need to fight.

Trusting in God’s decision making and timing can be a wrestle.

It’s something which, over time, you learn is a part of discipleship.

But, you need to do both. 

Relax and fight.

Relax that God is in control. Not you.

Fight that you’ll continue to trust God. Not yourself.

This is the tension of God’s sovereignty.

A tension, like all of them, which needs to be continually balanced and recalibrated.

What are the dynamics of a small town church selection or transition?

Last week my wife and I were away on holidays and our accomodation was located near some local churches.

Catholic.

Uniting.

Independent.

All within a few blocks of one another.

Considering the size of the town, with around 4000 people, there were a surprising number of church choices.

Which got me wondering… What are the dynamic of choosing or changing churches in a small town?

When you first arrive, do you check out all the options over a month?

Do you freely announce that there’s a selection underway?

Does the church which “gets you” feel a sense of pride?

If you’re looking at transitioning to another church, is it a bigger deal?

If you have some kind of significant presence within your previous church - say you were a youth group leader, worship leader or a member of the church council - is you’re moving a significant ecclesiastical shift?

When you arrive at a new church, are you already somewhat known?

Does this add more pressure to a perspective church to “woo you”?

Do the reasons for you moving take on more weight, especially if it was an interpersonal issue?

If you’ve left under a cloud of (non-illegal) controversy, will your first Sunday in a new church come with public baggage?

In a large city, these issues just don’t really arise.

You can start with a clean slate.

You’re anonymous.

You get the freedom to drift in and “check the place out” without causing much of a stir.

In a small town, this may not be possible, especially if - like it always is - there’s a lot of cross-denominational networks.

Why I WANT my kids to go to church during January

6 weeks.

As a teacher, I often hear that I get to delight in 6 weeks of holidays over the Summer.

Of course, Summer still involves a stack of work during January (and there’s only five-and-a-half weeks this year!) and there are markers of a successful holiday.

Almost universally, churches will mirror the timelines of the school year.

Thus, there’s usually no youth ministry or dedicated ministry for young people on a Sunday morning during January.

Nonetheless, as my kids get older, I WANT them attending church during January.

Now, I realise that just over a year ago I wrote that parents shouldn’t feel too bad about skipping church over the Summer.

My reasoning, more or less, still stands. Parents should primarily disciple their kids. This is true in January. And June. And every other month.

But… the reasons to attend church over the Summer are powerful. Arguably, even more so over January than during the school term.

Over January, the adult relationships which are vital for young people to be connected and cared for are cultivated.

Over January, my kids get a greater experience of the church community.

Over January, my kids get a glimpse of “big church” so it’s not so foreign.

Over January, my kids get to see how I act in church.

Over January, my kids get to be closer to the community of faith - where faith, more often than not - is caught and not taught.

I’ll admit… I’m definitely thinking about my kids attending church during the school holidays more than they are.

In fact, I allow my offspring to be on electronic devices once the sermon kicks off (sue me!).

But, if church is as much about the community and support provided as it is about learning or academia, then putting my kids in the room of Christians is a good use of my time.

Could I teach at the same school as my own children?

As a teacher on school holidays I’m not thinking too much about school in 2026.

That can still wait a few more weeks since I’m not preparing any new content to deliver over the year ahead of me (at least not yet anyway!).

But, my mind has wandered to teaching my children.

Often, I’ll pass on little tidbits about my classes and, sometimes, they say that they’d enjoy having a teacher like me.

For example, I mentioned over dinner today a fun distraction tip for my eldest to make her English teacher’s head spin (the question you should pose is “Why is the sound that a dog makes different in a lot of languages? Shouldn’t they be all the same because they are describing the same sound?”).

But, it raises a good question… Could I teach in the same school as my kids?

Of course, unless I decide, it won’t happen.

The only realistic scenarios which would land me in that situation would be if I successfully applied for a job at their high school or they transferred into a school I was already working at.

And, outside of these, I’m not it a rural or specialist setting where it would be impossible to not teach my offspring.

Nonetheless, I pretty sure I wouldn’t benefit from the situation.

For, I admit, I’m weak.

As great as others may be able to handle sharing the same school as their kids, I don’t think it would do me (never mind my kids) any good.

I’d be too protective.

I’d be too nosy.

I’d be… if the situation warranted it… too harsh.

Despite any overriding sense of professionalism, my desire to parent would be too easily triggered.

Father would trump teacher.

Of course, I’d like to think that I’d be able to easily mark an essay from my child impartially, but the personal interactions of my child would be something which I’d have trouble containing.

If she was bullied, I’d want to go all protective Papa-bear.

If she was a bully, I’d be crushed.

If she was rude to a teacher, I’d be personally offended.

If she did a stupid-teen-action, which most teens inevitability do, I’d be overwhelmingly apologetic.

Have a mentioned that I’m a weird, popular, but oddball teacher? It may be better that parts of the student body don’t share my surname.

So, these - along with a bunch of other reasons that I’m probably unaware of - shouldn’t result in me sharing a workplace with one of my offspring.

Forgetting the details of my greatest miracle

I was blind. Then I wasn’t.

I’ve mentioned it a few times - when I got an eye injury and lost my vision for a few days in 2014 and now that my eyes are getting middle-aged in 2023.

In short, I had a degenerative corneal disease which, through a medical quirk/miracle, I was cured of once I was prevented from putting in the hard-contact lens which was managing my condition.

The irony, as I was young and overwhelmed in my first ministry position, was that I was desperately asking God for vision.

I wanted guidance for the ministry.

Instead, I got physical sight.

God must have a sense of humour.

So, since then, a sign of the working of God has never been further away than a clear view of the horizon.

Of course, now that my eyes are in their forties, this reminder is getting periodically more fuzzy.

But, you’d think I can remember all the details of the original event.

I was blind.

Legally.

Medically.

And then I could see.

Unexpectedly.

Unexplainably.

And remember… almost nothing.

Frankly, I’m not sure my story would hold up in court.

I would crumble under cross-examination.

For, there’s soo many things that I don’t remember.

How did I know I could see again?

Originally, I knew that my contact lens was effective because I could see the horizon. Did I have a similar experience?

Did I try and put in my contact lens once I was physically able again?

Did I even consider it?

When did I go to my local eye doctor?

When did I go to my cornea specialist?

What did I tell them?

What did they tell me?

How long did I keep my now-no-longer-needed contact lens?

Was I hesitant to toss it away?

Why didn’t I keep it as a reminder?

I wish I knew these answers.

I wish I knew how I felt when I first worked out I could see.

I wish I could recall telling people for the first time.

YOU’D THINK I’D REMEMBER!

But, alas, I don’t.

Over the last 18 years I’ve forgotten.

I’ve forgotten the details of the best thing God has ever done for me.

I’ve forgotten the details of the reason I believe prayer works.

I’ve forgotten the details of the reason why I think God blesses us in ways we don’t expect.

I’ve forgotten the details of the reason why I think God is faithful.

Which in kinda sad.

But, it very much reflects the closest human relationships I have with my spiritual one - my marriage and fatherhood.

I don’t really recall many of the specific details of my wedding day.

Or either of my kids births.

Obviously, I was there.

Obviously, they were significant.

Obviously, I can tell you what happened.

Obviously, I retain detailed snippets.

But, the thing I hold onto is the ongoing result.

I hold onto the feelings.

I hold onto the lessons.

As time goes on, this is what stays with you, not necessarily the chronological order of events.