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Jesus Christ

ericliddle My Dad’s a preacher. He’s been a minister of the Presy Church since around the time I was born. He’s a strong man, meek and humble, preaching the Word of God in and out of season, faithfully toiling in a parish as an under-shepherd, pointing people to Jesus.

He doesn’t take the name of the Lord in vain, either out of hand or when something horrific happens. He’s not a fool given to asking awkward questions. He’s faithful to his wife. And he doesn’t go through “crises” of MY FAITH, because he knows the truth of the matter, that his faith is not his own, but a gift from the Lord Almighty.

To me, because I grew up knowing him, grew up under his teaching and instruction, THAT is the character of the Christian.

I have rarely, if ever, seen this accurately represented in today’s story-telling. None of my favourite tv shows, books, movies, have someone like Dad.

We love Bones. It’s a great show, full of surprising gentleness and love. But last Sunday night’s episode really got me thinking. The show centered around the writer’s understanding of faith, demons, God .. And it all came to a crux at the end, when the two leads are talking about faith, and how MY FAITH has taken a beating, but it will grow back.

Mine. My. I.

This is the problem.

The majority of today’s story-tellers just don’t understand Christianity. It’s not Roman Catholicism. As my good friend Dave said just now, it’s far easier to convince people of Roman Catholicism because it’s all about what we can do. We can go to the priest, said to be the intercessor to God. We can grab our beads and pray to God or Mary or a Saint. We We We WE WE ME I …

This is not Christianity.

Where is Jesus? Where is His death and resurrection? Where is salvation? Sanctification? Where is Repentance and Belief? Jesus, the Christ, the one and only Son of God .. He is our mediator, our intercessor. He is the way. The truth. The life. You might know those words off-hand, but they are the absolute reality.

I get it. This is much harder for our broken selves to take on board. We have to come to Jesus as we are, knowing that there is nothing we can do to gain salvation. Nothing. Knowing that everything we are is broken and deserving of hell and all that stuff which noone really likes to talk about, or they like to talk about it too much.

I’m not ranting about this. Not much. For the writers, the story-tellers, of the world to really draw the true character of a Christian, they would have to understanding the Gospel. And well, it doesn’t seem like most folks do. Or if they do, they don’t like it and don’t want to write characters like that.

Please don’t hear me wrong. I’m not talking about how awesome Christians are, how “better than thou” and all that. If you think that, then it’s another error. The Christian has full awareness of their broken state before the Almighty, their utter UTTER dependence on the Mercy and Grace of God Almighty.

What I am saying is,

I wish there were a few more stories written today that had a proper understanding of what it means to be saved by Grace, Jesus as King and Lord.

Just a wish. Nothing more.

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Grandpa & Grandma Of mortal folk, only my Dad influenced me more as a young man than my Grandpa.

Grandpa was a big man. In stature, but also in presence. He was commanding, even as he grew older. The only time I remember him different was at his deathbed.

Grandpa was a soldier. He fought as a Captain in the Royal British Army, his command being with the Gurkha’s in Burma.

Grandpa was one of the most humble men I’ve ever known. Like my Dad. Sure, on the outside they might have been different. But both men meekly walk(ed) under the mighty hand of God, seeking out His glory rather than their own.

Grandpa was awarded an MBE for his actions in the war. He never received it. He was a member of the British army, but he was born and bred here in Australia. After he returned with Grandma and Mum the MBE didn’t find him.

Grandpa & MumBefore and after his time in the military Grandpa worked in China as a Missionary. It was in China that he met Grandma. It was in China that my Mum was born.

Mum has written a blog called “My China Mystery”. It’s her telling of Grandpa and Grandma’s story from the many letters, photos and memories throughout her life.

I cannot read it without a deep emotion welling up in my heart.

Here is history that should be treasured. Here is a story of courage, of humility, of love both romantic and eternal.

Read the prologue, and you will see a child’s experience of a father who went to war and came back changed. It hurts my heart to read this passage. That a child would know these things at such an early age. That Grandpa was a man broken by the war and (I would surmise) the seeming failure of Christian witness in China. Grandpa, Grandma and Mum had to flee China in 1949.

My Grandpa sent me a letter many years ago. I was at the beginning of University, and had begun “preaching on the lawns”. It was an intense time of passion and facing the fear of rebuke and mockery.

His letter told me of how he had stood on soapboxes in Melbourne, preaching the Word of God. It was a handwritten letter that I kept close for many years. Reading it was a window into the world of my Grandpa.

Grandpa was a man. But he was my Grandpa.

I miss him now, and look forward to singing the praise of the King together with him in the fullness of time.

My Mum was invited to Buckingham Palace to posthumously receive Grandpa’s MBE. Mum invited me, as well as Dad and my next Sis,  along. So come mid-November I’ll be sitting in the presence of the Queen of England, thinking about Grandpa who’s no longer broken, but sanctified fully and in the presence of the King of all Creation.

Sadness. But joy entwines it, and brings us through.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

Hebrews 12:1-2

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IMG_0362 When you’re writing software you’re most often working with data. Sticking data on the screen in a way that benefits the user.

Mostly, data is made up of records. There are six people in my family. So if “Family” is the TABLE, then it has six RECORDS.

One of the most important elements of creating and manipulating data is the Unique Identifier. More simply, you want every record in the table to have a Unique ID field.

Keep going. This post isn’t really about programming. At least, not software programming :)

A Unique ID field says:

“I am unique. There is no other record in this table like me.”

Going further, if you have a bunch of tables within the software, it’s sometimes good to add a Globally Unique Identifier. This is a field that has a value which is unique across the ENTIRE DATABASE.

“I am unique. There is no other record in the entire program like me.”

Uniqueness is a concept that is found in everything. We make standards and rules so that experiments and environments will remain “the same” to a given degree, but in reality, every single thing is unique. Whether that is an experiment in first year Chem, or running the same five miles day in and out, every single experience you have will be unique for yourself and compared to others.

However, as pointed out, we round out our experiences. It’s a good thing to have similar experiences.

I went through a hard time at school. Does that make me unique?

Of course not. My GUID is definitely not the “hard time at school” field.

I did have an experience at school that noone else has ever had, or will ever had. And this is the same for every other person who’s been to school. Ever. In the entire history of the human race. And maybe the Martians too, if they have school.

If the Parent is not unique (I had a hard time at school), then is it relevant to go deeper until we do have uniqueness? Of the fifth of March in that year I stepped out of this door and tripped on that rock and cut myself here. Sure, that’s unique, but does it make me unique?

Are we unique at birth? If so, then Experience is moo(t). And also, out of our control (you could argue that we have some control over our experiences).

For the purposes of this discussion, we’re going to say that, YES, we are unique from birth. There is something about our makeup, about us, that is globally (or universe-ally) unique.

Do you care about your GUID?

Some people are quite secure in their uniqueness within a small sphere. It could be a Family circle. Immediate. Perhaps further out into the depths of Extended Family.

Others find that they are comfortably unique within the sphere of their close Friends. This is enough.

There are people who are driven to be recognisably unique on a larger scale. Perhaps it’s becoming President or Prime Minister.

And we’ve switched from what IS (born unique) to what is WANTED (being unique).

Everyone (past and present) has a GUID. From birth, we are unique amongst creation. Both as a segment, a race, of that creation, and as individuals.

Should you care about having a GUID?

I guess it’s a matter of scale.

Your GUID only matters within the sphere of what, or who, you care about.

Circle of friends. Family. Adoring fans. World of Warcraft Guild Buddies.

What’s the point of caring about your uniqueness in all of creation?

For me, the answer to that question is easy. My friends and family, my legions of adoring fans (oh, now i made myself cry a little on the inside), they can’t help me out with that little bump at the end of life.

I want to have a personal, a unique relationship, with whoever is going to help me out.

God is the biggest of scale. He gives the GUID a proper sphere of understanding. And He offers a relationship with each individual GUID, through Christ.

Get yourself a unique relationship with the Developer of Creation.

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