Voiced Thoughts

My exams are finished! Woohoo! It is such a good feeling to know that I have completed my university career. I don't have a lot of time to relax, though - as I relish in the completion of one career, at 10am tomorrow I embark on the beginning of a new one. I am starting with Liberty IT (heretofore, "LIT") in Belfast city centre as a software developer. I'm really looking forward to it. Two years ago I took a year out from study to do a year of professional experience with LIT and I enjoyed it immensely. Saying that, though, I met a friend on Friday who is working for LIT and she said that for the first six months of her employment her entire team was working ~60 hour weeks. Hmmm...

I used my book tokens to buy two more books on the history of the Christian church. I love reading about this sort of stuff - it is incredibly humbling, challenging, emboldening and encouraging. Something I notice about the Saints of Old is how almost all of them chased silence - not necessarily the monastic life, but definitely silence. From the Bible I know that God's voice is still and small, and that He speaks amidst the storm. The trick is silencing the storm to hear the voice.

It's not too hard for me to find quietness in my house. For example, when mum and dad are at work and my sisters are at school and university. But that's not where my storm is. These past few weeks have been stressful, straining and packed for me due to everything that was happening with QUB. For me, the noisest place in the world is my own mind.

Every time I sit still and try to wait... my mind refuses to obey. It is my most undisciplined faculty. I hope I can discipline it because I want to hear God.

I haven't forgotten or given up on this blog. The reason I haven't been posting is that my finals begin tomorrow afternoon at 2:30pm and I've been revising like a crazy man. I only have to sit two exams but I want to average over 65% in each to be assured of a good degree classification. The final exam, "Algorithms: Analysis and Applications," is on Thursday 26th May at 2:30pm... so on that same day at 5:30pm I will be a happy man. No more exams. No more lectures. No more uni. No more being skint!

But until them... my entries here are on hiatus.

Urgh...

Okay, perhaps that wasn't the most inviting way to start an entry but I couldn't think of anything else - I am just so tired. I have been working tirelessly on my group's business plans and they are all now submitted - my last piece of coursework, ever! Not so long ago I was working hard on my dissertation.

More recently I have been reading. I have four books plus the module notes to read through for my "Innovation and Entrepreneurship" exam. I have finished one book and worked through a couple of summary presentations already... still three more to do. I'm stopping now until the Thursday before my exam because I need to focus on my Algorithms: Analysis and Applications exam (heretofore, CSC403). I checked out some past papers and they have actually turned my hair grey. (N.B. That was just a figure of speech - my hair is still the lovely shade of brown it's always been... and always going to be!)

Due to all this flippin' revision and reading and past papers and assignments and dissertation and coursework I am officially exhausted! This entry is a digression from the usual smart-aleck and touching on existential entries that precede and no doubt will follow, which is a symptom of my exhaustion. I can barely think anything through properly. I have to read and re-read sentences to work out what an author is trying to say!

Because of this exhaustion I decided to take it a little easier today. I didn't do as much as I normally would but I still did some. Hopefully a good night's sleep and a run about at footy tomorrow afternoon will get me back to my old self.

I went to the PCI/OMF prayer meeting at 1st Antrim on Tuesday past. It was my first time at the meeting and I really enjoyed it. I have to admit that my motive for going was 50% selfish, though. I'm reading D. A. Carson's exposition of Philippians in his book "Basics For Believers" and have been greatly challenged by what I am learning. These challenges are what led me to the prayer meeting.

Spiritual mentors have, in the past, seemed like a fad to me. Something brought in by program-centric and "production-line-centric" evangelists who are only interested in converting rather than discipling. Imagine my surprise when I read (as I've read before but never taken in) that Paul urges the Philippians to "imitate" him and others like him. In order to imitate one must first observe. Furthermore, one must only observe and imitate worthy Christian leaders: those who have stood the tests of time, hardship and attack; those whose faith is still growing and hasn't stagnated; those whose boast is in Christ and not on past accomplishments; those who hold not to power, fame or glory but who cling to the cross and to the instructions left to us. It is people like this who would take ninety minutes out of their Tuesday evening to pray for people throughout the world, most of whom they will never have met. It is these people who I want to observe and so imitate.

Another reason for my presence at the prayer meeting was that I want to learn how to prayerfully intercede. My thoughts have recently been dwelling on my ineptitude to pray, as I have mentioned in recent entries. As you have observed my thoughts progress over these last days, you have noticed that I have also been thinking about the virtues of the Knights of old and, in particular, how I can be a Knight - a metaphor I understand - of Christ. Prayerfulness was one of those virtues - and is something that I must work on. An ineptitude is merely an unskillfulness in something resulting from a lack of training. And so it is training I need. This latter reason is somewhat related to the former but has subtleties I thought worthy of note.

Even though half my motive for being at the prayer meeting was selfish - that is, to observe mature Christians and to learn how to prayerfully intercede - the other half of my motive was pure: I wanted, after observation, to practice prayerful interceding... and I did. Furthermore, it is something I hope that I will continue to do diligently and passionately and not just during a church meeting or during the ninety minute prayer meeting on a Tuesday evening.

I pray that I will persevere.

I never remember my dreams. It's like some innate disability. Well, that is true except in three distinct instances, one of which you can read about here. The first dream that I can remember still freaks me out such that I have only been able to tell one other person about it. The third instance has just began - that is, I have just awoke from the dream.

Like the previous two, I am pretty shocked-up about it. Similar to the first one, I am very definitely freaked out by it. The substance of the dream I can only describe as pure evil.

The earliest point of the dream is driving out of Tesco and heading to Ormo's house with some food - it was nighttime and dark. I arrived at the house, which didn't actually look anything like Ormo's house, only to remember that Ormo was no longer there - he'd already headed in. Regardless, Ormo's mum had noticed me in the driveway and invited me in. She sat me down in the front room and started asking me about my diet of all things. Then, all of a sudden, in came my cousin holding a bread knife. (This is the cousin that lives in England, on my dad's side.) He had a great smile on his face. With knife in hand, he headed over to the nearest table, picked up a small roll of bread, and proceeded back into the kitchen. I heard laughter and concluded that he was cooking for people. Then two random Oriental girls walked and sat down to talk to one another on the couch opposite us.

Then things got strangely dark and I awoke to the street being flooded and dead bodies lying everywhere with arrows through them. Sharks were swimming around. I focussed in on one boat of four people. They were saying to one another that they had to shoot themselves with an arrow and play dead to avoid capture, which they proceeded to do.

My dream then jumped to the same group climbing in to the kitchen of a house I didn't recognise - but this time there was five of them. They argued about which one was the imposter. I couldn't tell even though I was watching what was happening from afar. The group's argument culminated in one of them holding another by the scruff of the neck and shouting while holding a knife to their throat.

The dream jumped once again. In the same house but without the water and the sharks. I was now "part of" the dream. The group included Jenna, Steffi, Carrie, myself and the two from the previous group who had been arguing.

We were just about to leave the house when, over my left shoulder, I noticed a man sitting in a far away room smoking a pipe. His skin was discoloured but I couldn't make out his face.

The dream then jumped to us, as a group, in the same room as the smoking man. We'd lost the two faceless members of the group - now it was just Jenna, Steffi, Carrie and me... but I had the distinct feeling there was someone else.

The man just stared at us as he smoked. He looked dead. There was blood on the walls. On the right-hand side of the room was a large parchment in a glass case. I could only make out the words "do not" at the very top of it... I moved closer to read the rest...

The dream jumped to a meeting in a restaurant with our new student minister, two faceless girls, who I think were from Derryvolgie, and another guy, I think it was Piece. Alastair apologised for being late and proceeded to ask us questions - it seemed like an accountability group. He then turned and asked Piece and me a question. He put his arms around our shoulders and pulled so that our foreheads were touching. We each answered along the lines that the problems we'd been having were no longer an issue. Alastair smiled.

The dream switched back to the room with the parchment. The smoking man was wiping down the glass cabinet with a cloth not wanting me to read what the parchment said. It was then I noticed the symbols written in blood both above and below the parchment. I didn't know what they meant. I looked at the smoking man and he looked at me. I then looked over my shoulder - Jenna was missing. I looked back to find the smoking man but he had gone. Steffi was lying on the sofa in that room in a sleeping bag and was quite groggy - like she had just woken up. Carrie was in the other room unaware of anything; she was just looking around.

I ran out into the hallway shouting with all my strength for Jenna but to no avail. I rushed to Steffi and told her to get up and protect Carrie. I then ran to Carrie and brought her through the hallway to the door to the street - it was still dark and I was still shouting. I opened the door and shouted. I knew it would be dangerous to leave the girls by themselves and I knew it would be even more dangerous for me to venture out into the street... but I looked round at Carrie, told her not to open the door again and to run to Steffi, and I made my way out to look for Jenna.

At this point I awoke... in a cold sweat, with my heart pounding and with tears in my eyes. I debated blogging this dream because of how I was feeling about it. Even as I typed it out in Blogger, I was getting shivers and my eyes were welling up for no reason. I've only had a few hours sleep but I'm no longer sleepy.

I don't know if I want to know what this dream means...

I was at New Vision last night and Roy Walker of Crown Jesus Ministries was preaching. Roy used to manage Crusaders Football Club. I am very much looking forward (Deo volente) to seeing the new film "Kingdom of Heaven."

Now that I've explained my thought pattern over the last twenty-four hours, I can continue...

What does it mean for me, a Christian, to crusade in the 21st Century? Some may wonder why I even pose such a question because of the thoughts it provokes. "The Crusades were a dark period of Christian history." "To crusade is to be actively violent and absolutely dogmatic." "Mark, in the 21st Century we are to be tolerant of others and their religion." But I'm not talking about waging a holy war sanctioned by the papacy or the jihad that is currently being waged by some Moslems; I'm talking about "a vigorous concerted movement for a cause or against an abuse," as Dictionary.com offers as a definition of crusade. Is this not how Christian mission in general, and Jesus' Great Commission in particular, can be viewed?

Heresy? I don't know... I mean, I don't think so. I'm no theologian or preacher - far from it - but should I not be as passionate about the spread of the gospel as the Crusaders were about reclaiming the Holy Land, and Jerusalem in particular, from the quickly advancing Moslems? Or, at least as passionate as I am about winning the regular Monday night football game?

I have always admired the Knights of old that I have read about. Perhaps it is a fantastical and surreal notion I have of them, but I still long to have met one. These nobel men of integrity and faith. Who stood up for the rights of the poor and venerated the clergy. Men whose very presence commanded respect and quiet awe. Men who fought for Christendom. hehe... I sound like I am seven years old.

What would a Knight of Christ look like today? What would be his defining attributes? Faith, integrity, humility, respectfulness, strength, selflessness, determination, prayerfulness, perseverence, holiness, knowledgeable, wise, stoic to a degree but filled with love. Is it fantastical and surreal to want to be like that? I've always wanted to be a Knight. Do I still sound like I am seven years old?

In a separate line of thought I have been thinking more about the Mormons that came to visit Ormo and also about the Mormon church located in Antrim. To be incredibly blunt, when I think about how Mormonism perverts and twists what the Bible says I am filled with rage. Yes, I do mean rage. It is the same feeling I get when I think about Islam, Satanism and devil worship - I feel utter rage. Is that right? I don't know. Is it wrong? I don't know that either.

I don't hate the people - no, far from it; rather, I hate what they have their faith in. I hate the fact that they have been blinded and that they have been lied to, and that they can't see it. Is it wrong to hate Satan?

Is it dangerous to hate Satan?

Is it wrong to want to, as a Knight, raise my sword and bring it down upon him? Jesus said that vengence is his and that he is the only One who is able to pronounce judgment. That is true - God alone is just. Without Christ, I am not justified. But with Christ I am justified. With Christ I know what is Right and I know what is Wrong. Even so, within the scope of God's word, do I have any authority or any right to point the finger?

Hmm... my thoughts seem disjointed, stilted and messed up. I think this is something that warrants further thought.

Give me the love that leads the way,
The faith that nothing can dismay,
The hope no disappointments tire,
The passion that will burn like fire.
Let me not sink to be a clod:
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God.

Amy Carmichael

Some of you may be aware that prayer is something with which I struggle immensely. The thought of a transcendent God who is utterly immanent blows my mind. I fail to comprehend it. I wonder why God, in all His glory, splendor and majesty, would consciously preoccupy Himself with me. Why would He care if I call Him "Father" or not? Why would it matter to Him how I respond to Him?

Does that make me a deist? No.

I have no trouble at all acknowledging the facts of the One True God's transcendence and immanence. Furthermore, I find it easy to accept His transcendence. However, I find it terribly difficult to accept His immanence: that He knows more than my name and how many hairs I have on my head. That He is preoccupied with me - that I occupy His "time".

It is for that reason that I struggle to pray and why I feel so cheap when I do pray. I feel so much like Isaiah in the temple: rather than shouting, "Wow, look at God," I shout, "Woe, look at me." Rather than, in prayer, focussing on what I'm saying and having confidence that God will hear me, I focus on the valid reasons why God should not listen to me.

But just there now I read some words of D. A. Carson in his book "Basics For Believers".

The promise of deliverance, the assurance that we are accepted by almighty God, is not tied to the intensity of our faith, or to the consistency of our faith, or to the purity of our faith, but to the object of our faith. When we approach God in prayer, our plea is not that we have been good that day, or that we have just come from a Christian meeting full of praise, or that we try harder, but that Christ has died for us. And against that plea, Satan has no riposte.

How encouraging is that! The promises given to me are not tied to the intensity of my faith, which I struggle with, or the consistency or purity of my faith, both of which I struggle with. Instead, the promises are given to me because my faith - my hope, my belief, my joy - is in the work of God in the person of the Christ, which has already been accomplished.

It is because of the cross that I can come near to God and it is because of the cross that God can come near to me, and it is because of the cross that The Accuser (Satan) is defeated. (Revelation 12:11)

Yes, it is easy to acknowledge that... but I still struggle to accept it... I feel like the man Jesus met who said: I believe, Lord, but help me with my unbelief! (Paraphrased.)

So, the results of the election are out and the population in Northern Ireland have shown how dogmatic and uncompromising they can be.

Perhaps that is unfair but just look at the results. The hardline Sinn Fein and the absolutist "Democratic" Unionist Party have come out winning in most constituencies, whereas those who could actually do something constructive with Northern Ireland have come out bottom in their constituencies - for example, David Ford of the Alliance Party or Dr Kieran Deeny, an independent candidate. Argh, it is so infuriating and tiring. The only thing I expect from the winning candidates in the furture is more slandering of one another, more jibes, more non-progress and more walls being built up.

Half those in Northern Ireland's voting population were their apathetic selves, thumbing their nose at the right given them to choose who runs their country. In my constituency of South Antrim turnout was a disappointing - no pathetic - 56.7%!

Argh, I think I'd better stop now before I say something I might later regret.

If nothing else, at least the TV will return to it's usual self with crappy daytime programmes. Why is that a good thing? Well, because I have exams in a couple of weeks and need to revise... and I hate daytime TV. (Doesn't everyone?)

[rant]

It's utterly disgraceful the amount of junk mail we have been receiving from the political parties running in the election. It's a whole stack of glossy coloured paper with a load of subjective propaganda on it. I mean, seriously: do the parties really think that I (an arguably intelligent and young voter) am going to take to heart what they say about themselves? I hope not or Northern Ireland is in a worse state than I thought. A better option would be to have an objective body create one FAQ/manifesto sheet that contained all the information in an easy-to-understand and without-bias way. The newspapers who try this are not entirely free of subjectivity or bias, and the TV shows quote too many statistics and don't really communicate any useful information.

Another thing that really bugs me are the billboards tied around lamp posts all around my town. "Vote for #1 Burnside!" "Decent People Vote Ulster Unionist" are two among a plethora of demeaning statements, insulting the educated voter's intelligence. Also included on these billboards are portraits of the person we're "supposed" to vote for. As if seeing their latest hair cut is supposed to sway me. Get real!

Nothern Ireland politics is up the left. Until fresh blood comes in and people who aren't so prideful that they refuse to let go of grudges, Northern Ireland will remain as it is: in political stalemate.

[/rant]

On a separate note: Ben Preston has been elected as the new president of QUB Student's Union. I don't know him personally but one of my good friends knows him well. Ben is a Christian and a vocal one at that. He ran as an independent in this election - that is, neither unionist nor nationalist - and won by a landslide majority. For the record QUB Christian Union didn't (and don't) vote in big numbers. Let's hope this is a positive change for the university as a whole.

I did a stupid thing and was found out. My sister had taken some digital photographs of the kids in her class during her teaching placement and I had moved the photos from my camera to my hard disk because her boyfriend wanted to borrow the camera. This was ages ago - at least a month ago. But a few days ago I came across the photos again and, without thinking, deleted them forever. Just this morning my sister was working on the write-up in which she wanted to include these photos and she asked me where they where. You can imagine what happened next...

As a result of that incident and because I had loads of work to do, I spent the day in my room. When I went downstairs to get an occassional drink and to get lunch the tension was high. It felt like everyone was against me.

Don't get me wrong, I knew that I was in the wrong. I should have consulted with my sister to ensure she had a copy of the photos or confirm that she no longer needed them. But I also knew that I didn't delete them maliciously; I didn't mean for her to lose them. Furthermore, I kept telling myself that she had ample time to use the photos and she should have made a backup. "It wasn't fair that I was being held wholly responsible for a mistake that we were both a part of," said my mind.

It took me a Bible study, a football game and most of the day to resolve to apologise. I'd never thought of myself as a prideful person but I guess my actions have proved me wrong, eh? I am sorry that it happened and I do wish there was something that I could do. I have told my sister that in the presence of my dad. I feel so bad and I really do hope she doesn't produce work of an inferior standard because of my thoughtless action.

I can't believe it took me most of the day to even think about apologising.

Blessed be Your name in the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name
And blessed be Your name when I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed be Your name

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
And when the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

Blessed be Your name when the sun's shining down on me
When the world's "all as it should be"
Blessed be Your name
And blessed be Your name on the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name

© 2002 Kingsway's Thankyou Music
Written by Beth Redman & Matt Redman

Alastair was preaching this morning on Psalm 63. He was saying that despite my trials in life that God's love for me remains constant. Unlike my devotion to Him, His love is permanently on the highest setting. He has evidenced His love for me in history: the Exodus; the giving of the Law; the end of exile; and, most prominently, Jesus.

The song printed above is one that I have often sang and played... and it highlights precisely how I have been selfish recently. Not just should I bless God when life is going as planned and everything is hunky dory; I should bless His name equally "...when I'm found in the desert place / Though I walk through the wilderness," and even "...on the road marked with suffering / Though there's pain in the offering."

I was beginning to get bored with my Christian walk. Everything was coming to a head at university: dissertation, deadlines, exams, reading, etc. I was becoming more and more secularised. God and my faith were being pushed to the "suburbs of my life" and I was falling into the rut of listening to the gospel but not doing what it says. I no longer considered the gospel important enough to compel me to act.

I started to slip. When I did I no longer felt as close to God... did I begin to resent Him for not being as close? I don't know. I hope not because it wasn't His fault.

Today, Alastair preached and God spoke to me. I was reminded that no matter how difficult life gets I should always seek God. When things are going well, I should praise God. When things are difficult, I should praise God. Just like David in Psalm 63, I should always seek God and not allow myself to be satisfied with anything else.

At the time of writing this Psalm, David was guilty of adultery, deception and murder. One of his daughters had been raped by one of his sons. Another son then killed his rapist brother. This son then tried to depose David from the throne. This was why David was on the run and in the desert: hiding from his own son.

It couldn't have been easy for David to construct this Psalm... but he did. With the drama in his life that I've already mentioned and even with the harsh surroundings of the desert, David still praised God's name and seeked God's face.

Likewise, regardless of how dry and weary the desert of life can get I need to continually rely on God, praise God, seek God. Not just in a habitual, half-hearted, I'm-going-to-get-something-in-the-end (say the anthropologists) way; but in a manner of true devotion, true love, true passion and desire. The word translated "seek" is derived from the word "dawn". It carries with it a sense of urgency. As the sun rises, the first thing in the day will be ___ . That's why some translations write "earnestly seek" and others "early I will seek".

I want to seek God in that manner and despite how the surroundings of my life look. God, my God, will be in the centre of my life and everything else will be pushed to the suburbs. My face will turn towards Him. My eyes will lift upwards towards Him.

Blessed be Your name, God!