Softening your introduction questions

Tell me about yourself?

Married.

2 kids.

Teacher.

This is my BBQ bio.

Marital status.

Job.

This is the default information you serve up when introducing yourself.

When we meet someone for the first time we may prompt them to divulge a part of their BBQ bio.

What do you do for a job?

Who are you here with?

One reason we - and read the grunting Aussie male - may ask these questions is to determine the others status.

We will judge their answer.

We will rank ourselves against their bio.

But, with maturity, these things matter less.

We become less insecure.

We work out that the comparison game sucks.

So, you soften your introduction questions.

As you grow in wisdom, you ask wiser questions.

How do you spend your day?

Who’s in your family?

These questions are far more open and, therefore, less threatening.

They allow the responder to direct the narrative.

Frankly, these questions allow for better conversation.

The sneaky church creeper

The obvious disclaimer to attach to this headline is that this post has nothing to do with guys in trench-coats, windowless vans or anything which may result in you being interviewed by the police.

But, every Sunday… in all churches… there’s a church creeper.

Maybe it’s the person doing the notices.

Or about to deliver the bible reading.

Or saying a prayer.

All church services have creepers.

People who are, as inconspicuously as possible, slithering from their chair towards the front of the church.

Waiting.

Often crouching.

Ready to pounce once their element in the service is due.

I’ve been a creeper.

With good intentions I’ve crept towards the front of church in preparation for a seamless transition.

But, viewing a church creeper is ecclesiastical gold.

And, these creepers exist beyond those with upfront roles.

If you’re late? 

You creep in.

If you’re setting up morning tea?

You creep out.

The church service can be a hive of congregational creepers, scurrying amongst the pews.

Chances are, you’ll notice one out of the corner of your eye the next time you’re in church.

When do healing prayers transition?

I used to work for the denomination with, on average, the oldest church members anywhere in Australia.

Needless to say, some died.

Others got sick.

Old age, sickness and death are a chain of events all of us will encounter. It may be personally. It may be a family member. It may engulf acquaintances.

Nonetheless, as those around us creep into old age - if they are believers - should our prayers for them be adjusted?

Should we, if someone is advanced in age, always pray for healing?

Would that be the best thing for a centurion?

Should we, instead, pray for comfort?

Or peace?

Or preparedness?

For, inevitably, death will find all of us (unless Jesus returns earlier!).

Should our prayer for the elderly be different than, say, our prayers for a 40-year-old?

Of course, irrespective of age, everyone could use a prayer for comfort, peace and preparedness. But, in general, we desire to see the 40-year-old restored to health.

But what of someone who is 105 years old?

Maybe we should be as much - if not more - concerned with their preparedness to face Jesus. 

Hopefully, this will be one thing they are looking forward to.

Like meeting a friend.

For, at this moment, they will be healed. Fully restored. Without pain or discomfort.

The trouble is, I’m comfortable with the bedside prayer agenda being a balance of preparedness as it is healing for someone in old age.

100.

90.

80…

70?

Fewer years than that???

This is where the petition gets tricky.

Unless the prognosis is terminal, where is the balance between our thoughts being primarily about this life or more concerned about the afterlife?

When is it appropriate for the driving question of our pray to transition from “Are they getting better?” to “Are they dying well?”

The pain reaction which stays with a man

There’s a distinct moment in the life of a young lad that, in my mind, determines where he is on the path to manhood.

It has nothing to do with your birthday or a date on any calendar.

It’s not shaving for the first time.

It’s not getting your first job.

It’s not picking up a lady and getting laid.

It has to do with the way you respond to getting hurt.

When you’re a child and you get hurt you respond in two ways.

You cry.

You look for your mum.

These are the responses of a child. Accepted responses.

But, as you mature, the way you react to physical pain changes.

Hurt equals anger.

Every man knows this it be true.

They have all undergone the same metamorphosis.

As a bloke gets older, if he stubs his toe, he’ll swear, not cry.

If a bloke falls over, he’ll make noises like Peter Griffin, but he’ll no longer shed a tear.

This is the subtle change that you see on the rugby field around the ages of 12-13.

As injuries happen, some weep. Others yell. The new accepted response.

No matter, everyone fell for the old “magic sponge” trick to make you feel better

(I said it was a sign on maturity, not intelligence).

Nonetheless, this transformation for the way we react to pain stays with us.

Hurt = anger.

And, what starts as a reaction to physical pain, can bleed over to other forms of pain.

Relational pain.

Emotional pain.

Disappointment.

Dissatisfaction.

Grief.

We are conditioned to avoid tears and release our hurt through anger.

Ditto for fear.

Same for a lack of control.

This is why men, most often, are angry.

They are manifesting their pain.

And, what worked throughout puberty - and what was accepted by their peers - is still their go-to response.

The worst sound to hear in the middle of a bible reading

Pages turning.

If you hear a lot of pages turning in the middle of a bible reading then it is a sign that you’ve made a mistake.

The problem isn’t that people are still using traditional paperback scriptures. In fact, this is tremendous.

The problem isn’t that people are opening up to the bible passages being read in church. In fact, this is fantastic.

The problem is that the bible reader didn’t wait long enough.

The people weren’t given enough of an opportunity to locate the passage before the congregational leader launched into their public reading.

So, while people bringing their bibles, opening their bibles and using their bibles is the precise opposite of a problem, you need to ensure that those who have arrived to church with a analogue bible have the chance to crack open God’s word and follow along in their bibles.

Are the increasing physical demands of traditional testing still fair?

I currently have a lot of marking to do.

A LOT.

Dozens of hours.

All to be done outside of school hours.

Of course, this means that I’ve watched nine classes of examinations over the last week.

Anguished expressions.

Confused faces.

Boredom as the final moments tick away and the student finished their paper 15 minutes ago.

But, one physical trait kept emerging.

Discomfort.

Fingers.

Hands.

Wrists.

Arms.

Backs.

Necks.

Twisted.

Shaken.

Stretched.

All because the essays and exams had been hand-written. Old-school. Pen & paper. Analogue.

And the result was painful to watch.

But, as the distress unfolded before my eyes, I wondered about the stain that traditional exams put a modern student under.

Are students in 2026 at a greater disadvantage compared to a generation ago?

Due to their lack of practice in writing, are we progressively hindering students ability to accurately convey their knowledge due to the medium we ask them to communicate in?

Now, I’m not advocating for the abolition of written exams.

Writing matters.

The ability to communicate through writing matters.

It always will.

Or at least should.

But, as I witnessed the twitching and twiddling during the exams - actions costing the students examination time - I recalled that I went through a similar thing.

Due to the increased use of technology - be it laptops, iPads or phones - and the increasing physical toll that prolonged exposure to these activities has, is traditional testing methods setting up our students to preform their best?

How do you instigate the 25th Amendment for a church minister?

With the current... somewhat erratic... bloke in the White House, there's regular discussion about instigating the 25th Amendment.

In fact, there was regular chatter about the 25th concerning his predecessor (perhaps the USA should select someone NOT IN THEIR LATE 70's!).

Of course, the 25th Amendment outlines the scenarios which unfold to unseat and replace the President due to unfitness - be they physical or mental. 

But, do churches have similar guardrails?

With the advancing age of many ministers? Should they?

For the highest position within Catholicism, there is no real ability to remove him forcibly. He's, in the vast majority of cases, in the job for life - for better or worse.

Outside of that, it gets far messier.

If your church has a hierarchical system, then there may be some ability for a regional overseer to remove a minister who is unfit.

But, surely this is like sending the fire brigade once the house to well alight.

And, what of those who worship within independent or less-structured denominations?

Who's responsibility is it to tap the minister on the shoulder then?

As well-meaning as a minister agent may be, who will put them (and the congregation) our of their misery? 

While the Anglican church has a policy in place for the minimum requirements which a minister must meet, this only works effectively if someone is travelling about to evaluate if standards are being met or a concern is raised.

So, does the duty just defer back to the local leadership of a church?

Do they, having watched the physical or cognitive regression of their minister, have an understood and stated ability to eventually institute an ecclesiastical 25th Amendment?

Would a lot of lay-leadership within the church be aware - or comfortable - with the power (and responsibility) that they wield? 

The 11 markers of a good teacher

One of my aims this year is to oversee a university prac student for the first time. By now, I feel competent enough to be able to pass on my “vast knowledge.”

After teaching for half-a-decade, I’ve now got a grasp - through both experience and observation - on what makes for a good teacher.

Presence - A good teacher has authority. They are a presence in the classroom. Kids  change their posture when you approach. Personally, it’s my voice which projects this presence. It’s strong. It’s confident. 

Calm - This presence should be soothing. A calm presence. A calming presence. An adult amongst children. Fair. Predictable.

Passionate - Although you’re calm, you’re not boring. Students should be able to see your enthusiasm for your subject and profession. Your joy for your job and students should be evident.

Knowledgeable - But, your passion must be fuelled by competence. You know your content. You know what you’re teaching and what you’re going to teach next. You also know why you’re teaching it.

A learner - You’re not stagnant in your knowledge. Your keep studying. Keep reading. Keep going to conferences. Keep gleaning snippets from everything to strengthen your knowledge.

Reflective - With the passing of time, you continually seek to improve. To improve your teaching practices. To improve your content delivery. To improve your connection with your students. This only happens if you teach, experiment, reflect, tweak and then repeat.

Knows the systems - You don’t only know your content, but the systems and structures used to apply that information in a manner in which the education department desires. You’ve taught enough, marked enough and heard enough to know the best methods, short-cuts and work-arounds that your students need to hear.

Has perspective - You’re not just the adult because you’re older. You’re also wiser. And you share your wisdom. Wisdom about subject selection. Wisdom about higher education. Wisdom about the workforce. Wisdom about… adulting. Wisdom about the next term, next year and next five years in the life of a student.

Professional - Your look. Your speech. Your actions. 

Prepared - You know what you’re doing. Where you’re going. What you and your students need. You have it with you. In advance.

Collegial - You work well with others. You share resources. You help others. You step up when needed. You’re friendly. You make your workspace welcoming.

The important ministry of the third person

Inviting someone to church can cause a fair degree of angst.

One of the sources must be… will your guest feel welcome?

Will anyone speak to them?

Will your visitor find others friendly?

This is where the vital ministry of the third person emerges.

For, if someone is going to be made welcome and begin to feel included in a church, then they need to converse with new people.

No matter if a newbie is alongside a friend or riding solo, this visitor needs two other people alongside them.

Just one other person speaking with them can be overwhelming.

Two people is the sweet spot.

And, this is where the ministry of the third person comes in.

Even if you’re an introvert, you can be the third person. Someone else has broken the ice, you’re just expanding the network for the guest.

Adding another friendly face.

Bringing another avenue to strike up a conversation.

Widening the net of people who can make the visitor welcome, included and - in time - belong.

Does your readiness to pray look more like a 40-year-old woman or a 17-year-old boy?

You need to be in the right mood…

With the temperature correct…

Without any distractions…

In comfy clothing…

With a pressing need…

Having just gone to the bathroom…

With your entire daily checklist complete…

In order to pray.

It can be amazing how many hoops we set up for ourselves in order to have “a good prayer session.”

Why, in short, do we think that our prayers need adequate foreplay?

In some ways our prayers can mirror the stereotypical middle-aged housewife’s sex life. Everything must be perfectly aligned or… it doesn’t happen.

But, what if they reflected the stereotypical 17-year-old boy’s sex drive?

What if our attitude to prayer was hair-triggered? 

What if we were good-to-go at the drop of a hat?

What if our prayers were spontaneous?

Always at the ready?

Of course, the analogy is crass, but the idea behind it - I think - accurately depicts they reality of Western Christianity.

We need to GET ready to pray.

We don’t start ready.

Living up to my own unspoken expectations

Everyday I have a lot to do.

Well… a lot I’d like to do.

A lot… I’ve planned to do.

German or maths lessons twice a day on Duolingo.

Complete a chapter or more of bible or commentary reading every day.

Write a Tiny Bible Bit every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

Complete the household chores on our to-do list.

Create lesson plans for every lesson I teach.

Write and complete an annotated outline of my teaching day every workday.

Write a blog post per week.

Finish all the daily notes I leave for myself.

Stay on top of the ever-expanding gardening renovation and upkeep around our house.

There’s a lot on my plate.

And no one knows.

No one keeps track of my Duolingo streak aside from myself (it’s currently 2393 FYI)

No one really knows that I’m the author of an online devotional or a blog.

No one knows where I’m up to in my five-year bible reading plan (it should be complete at the end of 2027) or what I’m currently reading/studying (it’s Isaiah 50-66).

No one knows some of the visions I have outlined for the garden (I’m hoping to have completed by 18 month plan by the end of winter).

I’m the only teacher in existence who plans his days as meticulous as I do. I don’t really need detailed and I’m the only one who sees them.

I get mocked for my start-of-the-day routine of handwriting my teaching day (even though it’s caught on to a few others in my faculty).

It annoys my wife that I have a parallel calendar of what I want to get done every day, week and year in my phone that she doesn’t get access to.

But, the majority of these tasks don’t really exist.

They are made up.

They are on a timeline only I’m aware of.

They fuel anxiety that I’m the only one feeding.

And, I get a sense of satisfaction or annoyance depending on my completion of my mind-tasks.

So, really, they are universally meaningless.

No one usually suffers if they don’t get done.

No one would notice if I forgot any task.

No one would judge me if I didn’t complete my lists.

But…

I would know.

For, when it comes to many of the lists which a make - be they over the next six-hours, day, week, year or decades - they help to organise my thoughts and help block the sleeve of my memory.

They, in many ways, provide a safety-net and a reference point for me to turn to.

But, they also hang over me like a chronological sword of Damocles.

This is burden of having to life up to my own unspoken expectations.

13 Reasons Why Reflections

I’m currently watching the final episode from the first series of 13 Reasons Why. It was one of my tasks to watch the series over the last week of the school holidays.

Obviously, if you know anything about the series, you’ll be aware of the subject matter and why I won’t be watching beyond season 2. I hear that the show drops off a cliff after the second season.

On a positive, the show was really cleaver in how it used the injuries of the main character to time jump back and forward, as was the way it used warm and cold colours to reflect the mood of the characters.

But, as I’ve watched the show, the usual annoyances emerged whenever I delve into US teen dramas.

The low hanging fruit is that the actors, as usual, were far too old to be playing high school students.

Second, the settings of North American schools - circling around proms, football and the large school cafeteria - don’t reflect Australian schools. They’re totally foreign to where I teach or where I went to school. It was because of this that I almost stopped watching after the first two episodes. 

But, the show then dragged me in.

Drama unfolded.

And, this lead to the largest disconnect I had. The drama.

All the drama.

Obviously, this should be expected.

A tv drama. Has. Drama.

It just doesn’t resonate with me. Or most people I grew up with. Or most kids a see.

My teen years were, relatively, drama free.

Of course, there were issues.

Teenage - vastly overblown - issues.

But not reflecting the continual drama from the show.

I, frankly, would be a background character.

Someone who walked the halls namelessly.

Quiet.

Undramatic.

Living a life unworthy of a tv show.

I’m guessing, like most teens.

The show has made me consider how I’ve mentioned suicide on this blog over the years.

And how we all hold our own secrets.

And how we interpret our own truth.

I assume that season two will unwrap more of these themes with the trail portion of the events.

If nothing else, I’m impressed that so many people had the ability in the 21st Century to listen to cassette tapes.

Tiny Bible Bits Stats

Back in 2021 I completed my first Tiny Bible Bit audit. Chronicling thousands of posts took a looong time...

If you've been living under a rock, Tiny Bible Bits is a Facebook devotional that I've been writing three times per week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday) almost unbroken since September 25 2011.

So, over the last week I've been updating the database and crunching more data (or actively avoiding the starting my pile of marking).

As of the end of last month, here's the updated details...

Total posts across 5312 days - 2354

All 66 books of the bible have now been used.

Most popular books - 

Matthew x198, Psalms x172, Luke x165, John x159, Acts x122, Hebrews x100, Romans x99, Genesis x95

Least used books -

Song of Songs x2, Nahum x2, Zephaniah x2, Joel x3, Obadiah x3, Zechariah x3, 2 Thessalonians x4, 3 John x4

Total chapters used - 617 (51.9% of the entire bible)

Old Testament chapters - 378 (40.7% of the OT)

Oddly, all seven articles from the book of Esther have been from Esther 4.

Most used OT chapters - 

Genesis 3 x30

Genesis 1 x14

Exodus 20 x12

Psalm 119 x11

75 passages from separate individual Psalms.  

New Testament chapters - 239 (91.9% of the NT)

Most popular NT chapters - 

Luke 2 x35

Matthew 6 x28

John 1 x25

Romans 12 x23

Ephesians 4 x22

Romans 8 x21

Matthew 5 x 19

Hebrews 12 x19

Luke 15 x18

Acts 17 x17

Philippians 4 x17

Ephesians 2 x16

1 Corinthians 15 x15

Matthew 1 x14

1 Corinthians 13 x14

1 John 3 x14

From the Sermon on the Mount - Matthew 5-7 x57

The only chapters I haven't used from the New Testament are Matthew 19, Mark 3, John 7, Acts 6, Acts 24-25, Romans 4, 2 Corinthians 6, 2 Thessalonians 2, 1 Timothy 3, 1 John 2, Revelation 4, Revelation 8-11 and Revelation 13-18.

Total bible passages - 2081 

Old Testament passages - 843 

Most popular OT passages -

Genesis 1:1 x8

Genesis 3:6 x7

Esther 4:14-16 x7

Psalm 46:10 x6

Psalm 127:1 x6

New Testament passages - 1511

Most popular NT passages - 

Hebrews 12:1-2 x16

Matthew 6:9 x10

John 3:16 x8

1 Corinthians 15:58 x8

Ephesians 1:17 x7

Matthew 11:28 x6

Luke 15:20 x6

John 1:5 x6

John 1:14 x6

Acts 26:29 x6

Revelation 21:4 x6

Number of Christmas posts x48

Number of Easter posts x32

Number of posts on the Lord's Prayer x19

Number of New Year's posts x14

Number of posts referencing COVID x14

Number of Mother's Day posts x6

Number of posts referencing Trump x3

Number of reposted "most misunderstood" posts x3 - 

Jeremiah 29:11, Matthew 18:20 & Romans 8:28-29

1 Video post on 1 Kings 19:1-13

Missed/delayed posts in Nov 2013, Sep 2015, March 2016 & March 2017. 

I took a three month break between Nov 2015-Feb 2016 - the passages I left was Psalm 119:105, returning with Isaiah 41:13.

What I learnt from attending a lot of funerals

I’ve been to lots of funerals.

When you’ve worked for multiple churches over 13 years, this is unsurprising.

When that denomination was the one with the - on average - eldest attendees, this is even less surprising.

When one of your churches was the chapel for the local private school, this increases the amount of funerals dramatically.

Add all these contingencies together, along with being one of the few members of your church who could run the technical elements of a funeral in the middle of a workday, then my amount of funeral lurking is entirely predictable.

For, most of the time, I was just a funeral lurker.

I often didn’t know the deceased.

I usually didn’t know many people in attendance.

But, I learnt a lot from attending so many funerals.

First, they reminded me of what matters. What really matters. Funerals are a time for the essentials. The plain gospel. Family. Fond memories.

Second, they reminded me that life is finite. Mine, like all others, will end. I will one day have a funeral.

Third, they reminded me that death is unpredictable. I could be snuffed out at any age. More than once I attended a funeral of someone who I shared the same age as. The day of my funeral is out of my control.

Fourth, they taught me how to write a good eulogy.

Finally, it they placed the voice of the grave periodically in front of me.

Collectively, these funerals placed a regular reminder that my life and ministry mattered. 

They impacted others.

They impact beyond my days.

For some, they help impact their eternity.

The voices from the graveyard that we need to hear

I’ve just finished listening to The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill podcast.

As I heard about the ups and downs of the Seattle monolithic, my mind wandered to the churches I’ve worked in, the ministries I’ve led, the people I’ve worked alongside and the undulations of all their fates.

Of course, I also pondered my time in ministry and the triumphs and tragedies which unfolded.

On many occasions, things sounded familiar.

But, one thing which struck me was a short point that someone made in the final episode.

Churches have lost the ministry of graveyards.

With the majority of churches now disassociated with tombs on their church grounds, the somber reminder of death has now been silenced.

And, as a modern church, we are weaker for it.

We are weaker because we don’t have a regular reminder of our destination.

We are weaker because we don’t have an intimate connect with funerals and death.

We are weaker because we don’t have the silent witness of the bygone saints.

For, these give us perspective.

These give us a reminder that we will be in the graves ourselves all too soon. And, then, we will be accountable. For how we live. For how we minister. For how we lead. For how we treat others.

The point was made that, with a louder voice from the graveyard, some of the mistakes churches and ministers make could be - at worst - reconsidered and - at best - avoided outright.

For, we need to be reminded periodically of our own mortality.

We need to be reminded that our days, ultimately, are short.

We need to be reminded that we will give an account for the way we have lived out those days.

We need to be reminded that what we do in ministry is only a link in a very long chain. It was there before us. It will be there after us.

This is true for the church.

This is true for your ministry.

This is undeniably true for the gospel.

Missing the rhythm of the liturgical calendar

I now go to a fairly low church.

I also grew up and worked in numerous low churches.

But, ironically, every church previous to my current one revolved around the liturgical calendar.

And, I think this link with tradition and the liturgical seasons is important.

Frankly, it’s something I miss about my current church.

For, while it passed with a mention, very little was made of Palm Sunday last week.

No palm branches.

No palm crosses.

No reading of the passage.

In fact, no ministry of the church - adults, teens or youth - focused on the events of Palm Sunday.

So… I missed Palm Sunday last week.

As I did last year.

And the year before that.

It’s only now that I’m out of the liturgical cycle that I see the true value of the repetition.

Palm Sunday. Christ the King Sunday. Trinity Sunday. Advent. Lent. Epiphany. Pentecost. 

The repetition of traditions.

The repetition of the core stories.

The repetition of the central truths.

The significance of communion

I’ve written a lot about communion over the years.

Last week I took some of the older youngsters through the significance of communion.

We spoke about how we did communion - the explanation, invitation, collection, consideration and united consumption.

But, more importantly, we spoke about the significance of the sacrament.

It reminds us of what Jesus did.

It reminds us of who Jesus is.

It reminds us of our connection with Jesus.

It reminds us of our connection with each other.

The tension a pillar must feel in a new church

Every church has pillars. Even in as far back as the New Testament.

Every church I’ve worked at had a few.

My home church had some.

My current church has some.

A pillar will be a member of the congregation who maintains the values, selflessly serves and - in short - holds the unspoken wisdom of the church.

But, what happens when they make a jump to another church?

How do they feel?

What do they see?

I suspect, being in a new congregation comes with a sense of freedom.

You’re not a pillar. 

You’re anonymous.

You’re not relied upon.

You’re not the first to arrive nor expected to be the last to leave.

You’re free to worship without a checklist of duties.

You’re able to observe a fresh context for faith.

You’re able to meet new people.

But, there must also be a sense of loss.

Loss of importance.

Loss of involvement.

Loss of familiarity.

When a pillar jumps - no matter what the circumstances - it must be a temptation to slot into your familiar roles in the new church.

Get on a roster.

Share your experiences.

Recycling some of your previous wins.

When a pillar jumps, it must be a strange mix of release and a desire to dive into a new congregation.

The challenge for those within the new worshipping community is to balance this tension in such a way that a long-term-valuable-congregant is accepted for who they are on day-one, not the potential to be a pillar in their new church.

Why reading the gospels in chronological order is an AWFUL idea

In my post entitled Random Graham Revisited, I concluded by mentioning that I’m planning to read through the entire Bible in 2029, 2033, 2037, 2041, 2044 and 2049.

Across the decades I’ll vary the methods I’ll use to read the Bible, with one of the ways to read through a chronological Bible (but not until 2049). 

In short, if you aren’t familiar, this method rearranges the text of the scripture in - as the name suggests - chronological order.

Which, for the Old Testament historical passages, is a brilliant idea.

Which, for the Old Testament prophecy passages, is a brilliant idea.

Which, for the New Testament epistles and early church narrative passages, is a brilliant idea.

But… for the gospels is a HORRIBLE idea.

For, the gospel aren’t designed to be mashed together chronologically.

This would be dishonest to the authors intentions and the entire genre that they are writing in.

The gospel authors are not writing biographies as we think of them in the modern world. These aren’t interested in chronological events.

Biographies in the ancient world, like those written about Jesus or the parallel lives recorded by Plutarch, are far more invested in the kairos moments, not the chronological ones.

These biographies of antiquity are more concerned about how the significant events in a life shape the person, their lasting impact and the ultimate message being conveyed.

If you force them into a chronological framework, then you fundamentally lose a vital part of their composition.

You lose their purpose.

You obscure their audience.

You soften the individual decisions that the author has made.

You cloud the literary context.

You quieten the voice of the author.

All because you missed the importance of the genre.

But, manipulating the gospels into a chronological timeframe places you in an unfair position of judgement over the gospel authors.

For, you then question why some things are omitted or place in the “wrong” place.

Of course, you do so without engaging in the entire conversation that the gospel writer is having.

You don’t see the thematic collection of teachings.

You don’t see the intentional groupings of miracles.

You don’t sense the decisions about sheer length of the gospel which influenced the any omissions.

It is clear that the gospel of John was selective in the events it included, with Jesus “performing many other signs… which are not recorded” (John 20:30). Every gospel is selective.

I read something during the week which mentioned that the gospel accounts are like a portrait, not a photograph.

They are accurate, but artistic.

They are accurate, but influenced by the artist.

They are accurate, but come from different perspectives.

They are accurate, but also present a message.

Smashing four paintings of a person together would make a horrible Frankenstein of the subject being depicted.

While I’ll read a lot of the bible in chronological order, the gospels - as they are - deserve to stand on their own.

Is the pinnacle spiritual metacognition?

The highest educational aim is nurturing metacognition in your students.

Form you don’t just want your students to absorb what you’re teaching them, but to be able to think about the process of their learning.

In short, you want them to be able to think about their thinking.

This is usually shown through their ability to critically reflect on the processes and effectiveness of learning and the capacity to accurately assess their understanding and obstacles to further growth.

But, is there a spiritual equivalent?

Is there a similar summit of spiritual metacognition?

Of course, I think it is possible to develop your understanding of theology and the way you connect with God.

But, I suspect this is not the height of discipleship.

While there is incredible value in familiarising yourself with the scriptures, studying theology and church history and nurturing the tools of spiritual disciplines, this isn’t the chief aim of Christianity.

The chief aim is a relationship reflected in obedience.

These must be the markers of spiritual development.

The summit is not metacognition - understanding the structures of discipleship - but a deepened relationship, observant spirit and swifter obedience.

Instead of spiritual metacognition, we require Spirit metacognition.

What we need to understand is the Spirit of God, not the spirit of spirituality.

This is true maturity and development in the faith.