Sadness and Laughter

The first time my grandmother took me to a circus was in Leeuwdoringstad, a small country town in the Western Transvaal, near Klerksdorp and Makwassie. She told me how much I would enjoy it.
The two of us went into the tent, and the smell of the animals and the dust made me wonder if I should be there at all. I was only 4 years old.
Then the circus master announced the first event and the band played out loud with trumpets and drum rolls and smashing cymbals as the lions came into the cage. The whip cracked and it frightened me.
The people woed and aahd and applauded and I sat rivetted next to my grandma. Then it was the horses with plumes on their heads like ladies in the Pentecostal church choirs that I was used to on Sundays.
And then they sent in the clowns to keep our attention as they changed the scenery and the set.
They had painted faces that looked sad. Their mouths were too large and sagging and their eyes drooped downwards. Their hats were too small and their trousers and boots were too big. Both of them had large red leather gloves on. Inside the gloves were crackers. When they slapped each other through the face the crackers went off. It shocked me and scared me and I started crying. It was too much for a little boy.
'Let's go home Ouma,' I pleaded, 'I don't like all this fighting!'
Ouma oblidged. It was the last time she ever asked me to go to the circus.
I thought about this moment and thought about watching Cirque du Soleil in Disneyland with my friend Brian and his wife.
The absolute artistry and agility of the performers astounded me and the timing of every moment to the music was mind boggling. The trampoline act took my breath away. I hurt my back on a trampoline when I was 14 and suffered back trouble for many years until the Lord healed me completely. I tried to do a backward somersault without any coaching. Dangerous.
But today I thought of that first visit to the circus and today is the last day of the year. Tomorrow will be the start of another year, a new year, a brand new year.
And I thought of the sad looking clowns.
Clowns make people laught, don't they? Why are their faces always sad?
Charlie Chaplin,Peter Sellers and all the other comedy stars, Gene Wilder, they all have a note of sadness to their lives. It is almost an integral part of a clown's armoury: his own sadness.
There is sadness in most lives, but the antedote is comedy and laughter. Thank God for someone who can make you laugh. Laughter is like good medicine. A merry heart has a continual feast.
Patch Adams made the terminally ill patients laugh in the hospital and got banned as a medical practitioner, but he did more good than the medical profession realised.
I once prayed for a lady called Priscilla who suffered from asthma attacks since she was a little girl. When I finished blowing into her mouth she was at first upset and then realised that she normally pumps air into her mouth with the asthma pump and then she started laughing until we all laughed with her. Dr. Sachs, a doctor in our church in Milnerton, came forward and explained how laughter is used for chronic asthmatic patients to bring relief.
So at the end of the year, let us lay aside the weight of sadness we might have experienced and let us remember the moments of sunshine and laughter. Let our spirits be revived and perked up again, because the Joy of the Lord is our strength, after all.

Walking on Water

While Jesus was busy praying in the fourth watch, early in the morning He saw the disciples in the storm and went to them walking on water. It is not humanly possible to walk on water. I once met a man on a plane who was an engineer that designed film stunts for his son who was a Hollywood stunt man. He was drawing a picture of a car bursting through the glass of a third storey in a building. The car travelled at a certain speed and carried on going horizontally to the ground for a while before nose diving. When I showed interest he explained to me that the speed of the vehicle breaks the force of gravity just like an aeroplane takes off, but when the car looses speed it begins to go down. So he positioned the cushions to catch the falling car quite a distance from the edge of the building. Then I realised that Jesus must have walked very fast to get to the disciples in the storm. The lake is 12 miles long and they were in the middle, which means they were about 6 miles from Jesus. He came to them suddenly. They thought it was a ghost and did not recognise Him. The solutions to our problems often come in a form we do not recognise because we are so full of fear. When we break our fears, we can believe! Then the very things that want to swallow us up and destroy us, have to serve us to get to the other side to reach our destination!
When the disciples willingly received Him into the boat they were at the other side of the lake, immediately! This miracle of transportation is often overlooked when we read the Bible. It was a supernatural event. The same speed and force with which Jesus approached them in the boat transported them to the other side.
Isaiah 1:19: if you are willing and obedient you will eat the good of the land. How long does it take to become willing? It only takes a moment. How long does it take to become obedient? It only takes another moment. Our stubbornness and disobedience is like idolatry and witchcraft that prevents us from ‘eating the good of the land’. Why don’t we repent of it and become willing and obedient to do the will of the Father in Heaven?

It is December

It is December. December in Cape Town is quite unlike December in any other place. It is summer and sometimes you have hot, sultry summer days, but mostly you have the Cape Doctor, the South Easter, sandblasting your legs and face with the coarse sea sand making it quite uncomfortable to stay on the beach for too long. Even the dainty little shelter canvasses they sell at all the out-and-about stores cannot withstand one gust of the South Easter. Beach umbrellas are the first to go rolling like tumble weed in the desert of Arizona.
But kitewurfers and windsurfers from Italy and France love the wind, of course. They cavort effortlessly above the waves and do stints in the air above the wreck at Dolphin Beach. When they hit a surfer or body boarder they refer to it as a blimp in the road. I've been hit by a windsurfer, once, on my back. The fin gaffed into my back and left a painful afterglow which lasted for weeks.
But today is one of those other kind of days...yesterday too, it started off with mist rolling in from the icy Atlantic on shore and it covers Milnerton first. The mist sneaks into the house like an old house friend and you smell the sea in your lounge. That is one reason why I live here: I love that smell, and I love the mists. Normally it turns out to be a warm day, a windless day if there is early morning mist. But you never can tell with Cape weather: like Sting sings: four seasons in a day!
And then of course one hears the blast of the fog horns from the ships lingering in the bay. Their souns is particularly eerie at night, of course. Like a foreign language being spoken by some prehistoric monsters calling out to each other without knowning where the other one is located.
A fog horn says so many things: hey, I'm over here! Hey, where are you? Mind you don't bump into me unnecessarily! Give me a wide berth! Let's play! Do you like my sound? Is anyone else out there?
Imagine a mist horn symphony!
But it also says, I'm alone out here...it has an attractive, lonesome, scary sound to it, and yet it is merely a mechanical device used to warn other ships of one's whereabouts.
But I love the sound of the fog horn...I lay awake at night to listen to it. It is so different from the hooter of a train or a car. It has depth to it. It is deep calling unto deep. Somewhere deep inside we respond to it without words and reply, i am here, it is ok.
The voice of God deep inside us is often like the old fog horn. It is comforting yet alarming; unexpected and yet desired; vitally necessary and still surprising; deep and yet so clear. It speaks to us when we most need it. It warns when temptation comes. It encourages when energy is low. It heals when there is hurt. It inspires when life overwhelms us.
Ah, the voice of God in the mists of the spirit realm! How we need it! How we long for it! How we ache without it.
May this December not merely be a time to remember, but may we hear the fog horn of the voice of God speaking to us in so many ways that we will enter the New Year with renewed energy, faith and hope. And the greatest of all is love...agape divine love, unconditional love, love so great that pen and poet cannot describe it. For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whoever believes in him should not perish but have ever lasting life. Hear that fog horn sound in your own spirit and pass it on to someone else in the mists of time.
It is December...

Star-crossed Lovers

Star-crossed lovers
I remember when I saw Franco Zeffirelli’s film about Romeo & Juliet. Leonard Whiting starred as Romeo and Olivia Hussy shone as Juliet. There was the grand opening sequence with the commanding voice of Verona’s Prince that boomed out the ‘On pain of death’ speech, if any of the Capulets or Montagues would ever be caught fighting in the streets again.
‘Two households both alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene, from ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean from forth the fatal loins of these two foe, a pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life, whose misadverntur’d piteous overthrows, do with their death bury their parents’ strife’.
I remember Michael York’s resonant metallic voice as Tybalt the nephew of Juliet’s mother, and the energetic, almost bouncy performance of David McEnery as Mercutio whose revelling and bogus bravery brings Romeo into a skirmish with Tybalt.
The many unforgettable scenes, the masked ball, when Romeo finally spots his love and the beautiful love-sick song accompanied with a lute: ‘caper, o caper play me a song’ the theme song of Romeo & Juliet, that became a hit at that time; the balcony scene, ‘O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?’ and the morning after when Romeo awakes, ‘T’is the Lark!’
The escape of Romeo and the intervention of Friar Lawrence trying his best to convene between the two lovers, but then the messenger misses Romeo, passing each other like ships in the night; and the tragic tomb scene, where Juliet awaits her Romeo, but he mistakenly assumes she is dead and not sleeping, and then the catastrophe…the romantic suicide, as predicted in the prologue right at the beginning, almost unavoidably poignant.
Images float through my head and tunes grow in volume as I reminisce. Then I remember the school play I wrote at Milnerton High incorporating all my cricket and soccer buddies into the play allowing Jerome and Dagmar to play the lead roles.
But I, being a bit of a clown, turned the tragedy into a comedy, with apologies to William Shakespeare, of course.
My ‘star-crossed’ lovers just couldn’t die! I turned their names to Romea and Julio, just to avoid confusion! When Romea arrives at the tomb and sees Juliet lying there, he drinks the last drops of the ‘poison’ she drank and dies. Then she wakes up and says:
‘T’was but a sleeping tablet!’
But, alas, she observes her Romea lying motionless by her side and takes his dagger and commits suicide. Then he wakes up and realises it was just a sleeping potion. But when he spots Juliet lying there with a dagger in her hand, he takes a pistol and shoots himself. She wakes up and says:
‘T’was but a switch-blade!’ But perceives the gun and is beyond her until our hero wakes up again and announces:
‘T’was but a blank!’
And in the end I had them both live happily ever after! The audience experienced much laughter and the newspaper reviews by Geoffrey Tansley of The Cape Times praised the ‘youthful’ and ‘original’ production sky high.
But I often wonder what happened to Leonard Whiting…he disappeared out of the movie business after that role. Olivia Hussey went on to play Mary, the Mother of Jesus, in Zefferelli’s, Jesus of Nazareth that starred the great British actor Robert Powell with his beautifully elocution-perfect voice and sad blue eyes (memorable especially on the cross with blood trickling down).
I think Leonard Whiting played his role too perfect and no-one could ever imagine him playing anything else than Romeo. So even if one saw him in another movie one would still think of him as Romeo. It’s a bit like Clint Eastwood, as the man with no name, in his Spaghetti Westerns. But he found a way to survive fame and became Dirty Harry and played many other roles until he discovered his penchant for directing films for which he eventually won an Oscar.
But Leonard Whiting became a shooting star…I think he made one more movie and disappeared off the scene. And yet, he was perfectly cast, his passion, his facial expressions, his stunning hair that looked gorgeous even when he sweated in the fighting sequences. And his athleticism and his voice: he became the legendary figure of Romeo – he wasn’t acting.
And then I think of a score of other actors and actresses that came and went…Christopher Jones who starred opposite Yvette Mimieux the French actress, Peter McEnnery (the more handsome brother of David who played Mercutio) who starred opposite the illustrious Catherine Deneuve (I still remember the rugby practice in France so well)…and many others.
Were they only star-crossed actors?
Then I think of sport stars who have come and gone – without much fame or fortune on their side…and preachers…and musicians…and just people I knew…
Here and there some survived. Star- crossed?
Peter Sellers believed he had to marry someone with the initials B.E. because his stars foretold him so. He married Brit Ekland. His marriages never succeeded. In the end he left nothing to Michael his son, but gave his entire estate to his last wife before he died.
I met Michael – when they shot the interview with him at Lords. I was sitting in the exact spot where Peter Sellers, who lived opposite the revered home of cricket. Apparently he came for a meal and sat in that seat every Thursday. And it was a Thursday that I was there (in the off-season) and listen to this: I ordered Bangers & Mash, the meal Peter Sellers used to order! How strange a co-incidence is that?
The TV crew actually asked me to move to another seat so that Michael could sit there where his father sat for the interview! (We watched it on TV many years later in South Africa and I shouted: I sat in that seat!)
What attracts two people: their stars? Or is it certain chemistry between them? Why are parents never satisfied with their children’s choices of marriage partners? Why do parents give their children so much grief? Why, o why, o why? What should be the most memorable day of their married life, the actually wedding day, often turns out into a nightmare that they want to forget!
Is every couple star-crossed?
I think it is much simpler than that – there is something supernatural behind the scenes that direct the pathways of people. It is the unseen hand of God. And it is hard to discern in the natural. But if there is a bit of faith the size of a mustard seed, it could grow into a great tree where the birds of the air could come and make their nests. Their marriage could become a blessing to many.

Gary Player's secret

Gary Player was probably one of South Africa's greatest golfers. He beat the likes of Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus in his time. One of his favourite sayings was, 'the harder you practice the luckier you get!'
I once read about him, somewhere, that he hit 1000 golf balls per day! And he jogged regularly and did push ups. But besides his physical discipline he had the habit of keeping his cupboard tidy. He learned that from his father who died when he was only a young boy. His father never saw him play golf. His father never saw how much he achieved. Sometimes he had nightmares about his father - watching him play golf! But his father taught him how to keep his cupboard neat.
His shoes were in the right place, his socks would be folded up and placed in the one corner and his belts in the other corner. His shirts would be folded up and packed on top of each other and his ties would hang in order. The trousers and jackets would all be hanging in a certain order.
Gary firmly believes that the little disciplines of ordinary life is what helped him when he had to sink the championship winning put on a golf course. When the mind is used to orderliness in normal circumstances it will be disciplined under severe pressure as well.
My father was like that - he was a lieutenant in the Air Force of South Africa during WWII and flew the Tiger Moth planes. His dream was to fly the Spitfire but he never went to England. The Air Force kept him at the home front and put him in charge of the Arsenal because he did such a good job of putting things in their place.

So you can imagine what his cupboard looked like: like a men's department store! It was never out of place. Even on the day he died, I opened his cupboard and it was extremely neat and orderly!

There is an obscure verse in the New Testament describing Jesus' tomb. The disciples went to the tomb and found it empty. But they found the grave clothes and the head cloths folded neatly at the head where Jesus lay. That is a sign of a slave telling his Master that his work is done and that he is waiting for His reward.

Jesus had completed his earthly mission to perfection. He folded up his graveclothes neatly and stacked it where he laid his head to show to His Heavenly Father that his work was done: it is finished!

In the army we only got weekend passes if our cupboards passed inspection.

I also know that artists need a bit of chaos around them to be creative! The earth was created out of chaos, remember? Even God requires some chaos to prove His creativity!

But there is a lesson to learn here, somewhere,that a disciplined mind is a certain asset under pressure. To think under pressure is not just a gift, but a practiced behaviour. What you cannot do under normal circumstances you cannot hope to do under pressure.

So, thanks, Mr. Player, for that bit of advice, we salute you.

Running down the stairs

Running down the stairs
The Cockney phrase, ‘up the apple and pears’, is slang for: ‘up stairs’. For instance, if one guy asks the other, ‘where’s ya missus?’ he could answer, ‘up the apple and pears’. When someone is looking for his glasses, but they are already on his nose, the conversation could go as follows: ‘where’s me binocs?’ and the other would answer, ‘on yer I suppose!’
The Greek language often has colourful descriptions behind the words.
For instance, there is a verse of scripture translated into English, do not bite and devour one another, or you might be consumed. The picture behind those words in Greek, are more revealing.
It shows someone running down the ‘apple and pears’ and out of the house!
Words have a powerful effect on us. If words are biting, they might become devouring. Once something has been devoured it is consumed!
By too much criticism, people feel like leaving a house. Children often are made to feel like that by the overbearing parents who forgot what they were like as kids. Their parents treated them harshly and spoke down at them; therefore they treat their children in the same manner. We just can’t help ourselves!
Paul warns us not to exasperate our children with too much correction. We have to create space for them to grow up. That means we need to allow some mistakes here and there and not police them all the time. It takes time for a child to change, yet parents demand immediate change. They must first want to change before they ever will. They must first see the need to change before they want to change.
Children sometimes feel like running down the stairs and out of the house and never coming back! Parents are often the cause. In Scotland children run away from home more than in any other country. I wonder why? Perhaps the parents in Scotland should take a long hard look at how they treat their children and what demands they make of them?
Husbands and wives sometimes treat each other with such harshness that the one or the other wants to run down stairs and out of the house! Unfortunately it can lead to divorce.
A friend of mine, in London, told me about his divorce: ‘One morning I just woke up and said to myself, I don’t want to live anymore!’ Then I asked myself, ‘why not?’ and I could answer it very easily: ‘I had a bully for a father, and I have had a bully for a wife, and I just don’t want to live under a bully any longer!’
I am sure his wife also had her reasons about his ‘emotional instability’. But she did not want to admit was that she was the cause of it in many ways!
Bosses often make their employees run down the stairs and out of the business – they resign and leave. Pastors often make church people run down the stairs and out of the church because of the way they bite and devour the people from the pulpit.
Governments make people leave the country because of their unfair treatment. More than 5 million white South Africans have left the country since the change of government. The pendulum has swung in the other direction after the Apartheid regime.
Sad to say, some desperate individuals who see no other way out, commit suicide because they have been bitten devoured and consumed by others…
Murders are committed because people have had enough.
Sometimes people die of heart failure because they have had it. A teacher at a private school, in his late forties told me a few weeks before he suddenly collapsed and died, ‘I’ve had it in this school!’ Sometimes principals and school systems are too hard on both teachers and scholars – they run down the stairs and out of the school.
And all of us can change the way we speak to each other.
Paul reminds us to let our speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt so that we may know how to answer anyone who asks us concerning the hope we have in life.
What I remember about people is the way they spoke to me. Some made me feel like a champion and gave me courage to carry on; some made me feel worthless and useless.
Think back about your teachers: which ones do you remember? You remember the ones who tried to speak kindly to you. The ones who ridiculed and humiliated you made you hate their subject.
The sound of the voice is sometimes more important than the message conveyed. The tone of voice carries the feelings behind the words. Let us learn to speak kindly to one another and hopefully make someone’s day memorable and worthwhile.

His bowtie is really a camera

His bowtie is really a camera
S & G or Simon & Garfunkel sang ‘We all come to look for America!’ One of the verses is about a man in a gabardine shirt that looks like a spy, and then the one line says in a comical way, ‘be careful his bowtie is really a camera!’
Clever dialogue and descriptions in their songs used to catch my attention. For instance the two old people who sit on park benches like Bookends (propping each other up). The Sounds of Silence and silence does have sound if you care to listen. The opening line is probably a description of the billions of city dwellers everywhere, not just in NY: ‘Hello silence my old friend, I’ve come to talk to you again’. And then the unforgettable ‘words of the prophets are written on the subway walls’.
Mrs Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you would know wow-wow-wow! And that is where I want to camp for today. Mike Nichols used the S & G songs in the sound track for his film, The Graduate, starring a youthful Dustin Hoffman and an ageing Anne Bancroft, who played Mrs. Robinson.
But I have another Mrs. Robinson in mind.
While I was a student at Miracle Valley Bible College in Arizona, it no longer exists anymore, Dr. Gray, our principal encouraged us to read, Radiant Glory, the biography about Mrs. Robinson, who dedicated her life to loving Jesus. Her house was the only one left standing in the great Chicago fire. They were praying inside and escaped the terror of the devastating fire.
She prayed over I Corinthians 13 for two years: until she felt that those verses were internalized in her life. Love is patient, love is kind. Just start with those two. Love is not always a feeling as we presume. We want to feel love because we want to feel loved. But let’s look at what we are patient with. What draws kindness from us? Those are the things we love.
People are sometimes more patient and kind to their dogs and cats than to one another. Why? The Bible says in the last days there will be perilous times, because people will be lovers of themselves more than lovers of God; they will love money more than God and they will love pleasure more than God.
These three things describe our modern, materialistic, selfish and utterly sinful society – these things also cause pain and wars among us.
The love of money for instance is the root of all kinds of evil – not money.
Unfortunately the first line in Napoleon Hill’s book, that everyone reads sooner or later, How to think and grow rich, is, if you want money you must love money. He tells you how to feel the money in your pocket and to always have money in your wallet, because if you love money it attracts money. It is diametrically opposed to the Gospel of the Kingdom where money is not a god but a means to serve the Kingdom of God.
God promises to be a God that will teach us how to create wealth so that we may establish His Covenant in the earth. There is a condition to wealth creation, God’s way. The blessing of the Lord makes rich and adds no sorrow to it.
Self-love is promoted on every scale in modern life and narcissism rules the youth of today. There is a right perspective to all of this. You should first love God and then you can love your neighbour as yourself. That is the law of love that fulfils all the other commandments. But unless you experience the love of God it is impossible to love others or yourself in the right way.
For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life (John 3:16 in the Bible).
I Corinthians 13 tells us about love. If we have great faith, or make great sacrifices or even become a martyr it is empty without love as the motivating force.
Mrs. Robinson realised this and began asking God to fill her with His love. The Holy Spirit pours out the love of God in our hearts if we ask God in faith to give us His kind of agape love. Agape love is unselfish and unconditional. Our human love tends to be conditional: if you do this I might love you.
Pleasures that the world offer draw us away from God, rather than to Him. The pleasures of this life that is sinful are like thorns that choke a growing plant. The desires for things other than the things of God take the place that God should have in our hearts and makes the Word of God fruitless in our lives.
Where a heart is thoroughly prepared to receive the seed of the Word of God it bears a great harvest – hundred fold!
Mrs. Robinson experienced this in her life. She became a vessel of honour, mightily used of God to bless her generation and to leave behind a Radiant Glory for those who knew her. People used to drive great distances just to speak to her for a few seconds. Their lives were sorted out in a few minutes and they got direction, courage and hope just by seeing her.
I hope S & G were referring to the Mrs. Robinson in Radiant Glory rather than the one in The Graduate! It makes more sense that way. Perhaps we can learn from her to love one another. Perhaps we can help to make the world a better place.
If we listen to S & G we could have a different perspective on Mrs. Robinson!

When I'm Sixty-Four

Just close to sixty now, I thought of the Beatle's song, 'When I'm sixty four'. Two of them are gone already - before that age. Lennon shot five times in the back in front of his New York apartment by a madman. George passed away after illness. Pretty boy Paul still lingering on holding concerts here and there, and Ringo hiding somewhere. The Fab four thrilled the world for a while and for 50 years we are living in the afterglow of their 100 number one tunes being played over and over again on all the radio stations of the world.
Was it all just a fad or a brilliant marketing campaign or did the Liverpool lads have some genius after all? Did it lay in the mix of McCartney & Lennon, or was it the foursome magic that worked on all of us? Did the spark die when Lennon disappeared? It's just not the same without him. Like Simon & Garfunkel, the one without the other just doesn't work as well, or like Crosby, Stills & Nash, or Dylan and The Band.
Were the Beatles really more popular than Jesus Christ, like Lennon claimed before he died. Just before Elvis and even Michael Jackson crossed over to the other side they were worshipped as gods of rock and roll.
The Old Covenant law looms up,'Thou shalt not have any other gods before me...'
So much we still need to understand.
But the point is, John never lived till 64.
'Will you still need me
Will you still feed me
When I'm sixty four'
I think of all my friends throughout life that didn't make that magic figure either. They're gone, deceased, out of here. And I am thinking hard today...
When I had my close shaves in life, I wondered why I made it? I don't deserve to be here, I have no special claim to life itself, it is a miracle that we are still all alive. Its not luck - its pure grace and mercy.
It is a humbling and sobering thought...64
So let me tie my shoe laces up, put on my belt, pull it tight, pull my hat over my eyes, to keep the bright sunlight out, grab my coat and hit the road again...till I'm 64 (DV)

Music to the soul

Bob Dylan's albums have to grow on you. He is almost 70 but still doing 169 concerts per year - on the road!Amazing rambler!Amazing energy!And he won an Oscar recently for a movie theme song.
They asked him once, how do you remember all the words to your songs?
'It's easy,'he replied in his non-chalant way,'a song is like a path in a field: once you find it you just walk on. A good song walks by itself. It's a memory and you just relive it.'
When you buy a Dylan album, you listen and think, this is nothing special. You put it away for a while. Then you listen again, and later on again. And then you find it grew on you. Some of the phrases, some of the tunes, some of the rhythms got stuck somewhere, inside, in your memory bank. It made a pathway in your sub-conscious. His songs all sound like, 'I've heard that somewhere before.'But they are new, they just have a ancient sound to them.
In one of his latest albums, Modern Times, he sings Workingman's Blues. There is a phrase that sort of stick out in the song:'sometimes no one wants what you've got, sometimes you can't give it away!'
at first it sounds like you have heard that phrase before, but you haven't, not quite like Dylan expresses it with his rusty aged voice.
Life has a way to creep into your heart unnoticed - like a Dylan song. You don't quite know if you chose to remember something, but when you search your heart, there it is, loud and clear, almost like a label. You don't always know why. But if you look back on your life certain things just stuck in your mind.
Looking back on my life as a commando in the South African army, I remember things I did not try to remember. I forgot some things I thought I would remember. The same with school, the same with distant family members and friends.
Songs have got a way to remind you of what is inside you, where you were when you first heard it, it triggers a memory that got stuck inside and you have to stop and consider it for a moment, it speaks, it echoes and it resounds in your soul, it haunts you, it revives you, it excites you, it gives you comfort and courage to carry on.
That is the power of music. We all need songs in our lives.
David praised God who gave him songs in the night. In the worst time of our lives God gives us songs to strengthen our resolve and to remind us of what He has buried deep inside of our spirits.
Let us keep on singing, humming tunes, whistling while we work (except the glass blower, like my brother-in-law Murray always jokes!)
Let us put some melody in our lives today and in someone else's life. Stop and sing. Listen to a good old tune. Don't worry if no one else likes it. It is meant for you. Only you. It is what your soul needs now. It is a vitamin tablet for your soul.
Shakespeare said, If music is the food of love, play on, play on!

That's not what ships were made for

I reached a forlorn Outback town in New South Wales called Gilgandra where I and my two unique band members performed Gospel songs in an AOG church and afterwards drove for miles and miles on dirt roads to get to the station (Aussie for farm) where we lodged for the night and I felt I was in the middle of nowhere.
The home was in a dishevelled state: especially the bathroom. There was no shower wall or curtain. Puddles of water were everywhere. The dirty clothes and towels were strewn all over the damp floor. The toothpaste tube was half squeezed out and the top was nowhere to be seen. The toothbrushes suited the scene: the brushes were pushed out from over-use. The basin was dirty with rings of dirt mounting one on the other.
For someone like me who came from a pristine Victorian albeit Afrikaner home where the table cloth and matching serviettes were starched and rows of cutlery were used for the four course meal, it was a bit nerve wracking to view the bathroom where no one seemed to mind the state it was in.
I remember looking at my watch. It was about midnight. I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of purposeless welling up in me.
‘What on earth am I doing in a place like this?’
I felt that our ‘call’ to be in Australia was suddenly so useless. I felt like a misfit, the proverbial square peg in a round hole. Australia didn’t receive us well. What on earth am I still doing here, in the Outback trying to preach and sing the Gospel? The offerings hardly get me from place to place. My wife and kids are hoping I bring something back from this exhausting mission’s tour, but alas, I can foresee nothing positive about my efforts any more.
A sense of sadness crept over me and I felt as dark inside as it was outside. An Emu was circling the house making unearthly noises, like a stone dropping into a water container.
I washed my face in the dirty washing bowl, avoiding the dirty toothbrushes. Then I looked for a towel. They were all damp and used before. Then I spotted some behind the door hoping they would at least be clean, but to my dismay they were dirty too. I took one to dry my face. The smell of the towel was so off-putting that it made me nauseas.
As I lifted the towel an old, torn poster collapsed towards the floor. The towel was propping it up behind the door. I pushed the poster back up and then stared at it for a while.
It was a picture of an old sailing boat in a storm: mast cracked, sails torn and waves bashing over the deck with seamen sprawling for cover and hanging onto the ropes.
‘That’s exactly how I feel inside,’ I thought.
As I straightened it out I noticed the inscription at the bottom.
‘A ship is safe in a harbour; but that is not what ships were made for!’ was all it said.
I took it in and started weeping, silently at first, but audibly after a while. I sank to my knees with the dirty towel in my hands. I understood the message so clearly.
I could have been safe and sound in my own country, South Africa, with a secure 9-5 job and loving parents and friends around me and my family: instead we chose to obey our call to Australia as missionaries. Here I am, in the middle of nowhere, feeling lost in all the storms of life, and at the moment nothing makes sense any more. But like the old ship I have precious cargo to convey to the other shore. I have something to give, even if it is just to minister to a few people in the Outback.
Fairdinkum!
The poster and its inscription inspired me and gave me new courage to carry on and do what I came to do! I learned an important lesson: Christians are safe in churches, but that is not what Christians were made for!
Jesus said, ‘Go into the whole world and make disciples of all nations!’
At least I have obeyed the great commission. At least I’ve given it my best shot!
Since then I have been to 66 nations now…as the great old hymn Amazing Grace says,
‘Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come
It’s grace that brought me safe thus far
And grace will lead me home.’
‘Amazing grace how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost but now I’m found
I was blind but now I see.’
Amazing Grace was written by Newton, a slave trader, who faced many a storm at sea, and survived to tell the tale. Perhaps that picture would have touched him deeply as well. It touched me for sure. It changed my life. It changed my attitude. It gave me a will to live and to do something meaningful with my life.

How quickly we forget

How quickly we forget!
My friend Victor Ferrer said, ‘I will never forget you!’ as we embraced saying goodbye at New York harbour when I boarded the HMS Mormac Bay to sail via Rio de Janeiro to Cape Town.
‘Don’t say that!’ I told him, ‘you never know what happens!’
‘No, I will never forget you, because you are my best friend! You are my brother!’
Vic and I were at Miracle Valley Bible College in Arizona. He is Puerto Rican and I am South African. (They were amazed that I was not black!) After College he invited me to stay with him and his Mom in 89th Street East, New York, close to Central Park. He taught me the ways of New York. You don’t stop to help someone who collapses on the side walk or you will be involved in court cases for years! You don’t jog alone in Central Park at any time of day or night – you might get clubbed! You set your alarm clock to wake you at 3 am to watch your favourite movie! You go to one movie after another or to Broadway – there is so much to do! And then he took me to The Bronx where he grew up and we ate rice and beans with his Aunty Carmelita. He greeted the gangs with their baseball bats, knuckle dusters and chains waving at us, because he knew them well.
‘Wave your bible at them – they have respect for a bible. They won’t do anything to us if they see you have a bible. Smile, don’t look so nervous!’ We went to an underground church where I preached.
We watched them cut down a metal fire hose connection on the side walk and watched how they created their own car wash for all the people living there! You don’t see any police in The Bronx. I felt like David Wilkerson and Nicky Cruz from ‘The Cross and the Switchblade’ fame!
His Mother thought she looked like Marilyn Munroe and used to look at herself in the mirror and ask me, ‘what do you think?’ I had to agree – I was living with them!
And when my time came to leave, he went with me to the quay and stood there with his dimpled smile and curly black hair and dark brown eyes staring at me, telling me he would never forget me. He gave me his leather bible cover, which I still use till this day – with his name on it.
We corresponded for a few years and then one day he stopped writing. I wondered what the matter was. Finally he wrote back: ‘Don’t ever write to me again! I have met this girl who is an atheist and I fell in love with her. She convinced me that all this Christian stuff is a waste of time that other people designed to make everyone feel guilty. You are part of that world and I have left it behind now. I am no longer your friend. Goodbye!’
What a shock it was! My friend Victor told me off! An Atheist girl swept him off his feet!
I never heard from him again. I often think of him, when I open my bible and see his name on the inside cover. I wonder how Victor is these days. I tried to find him on the internet, but to no avail. He has not surfaced again.
How quickly we forget…
Jesus introduced Communion so that His followers would not forget Him that quickly. 'Do this in my remembrance, whenever you get together,' he told them. They are still doing it today, 2000 years later. Eternal friendship lasts longer...

The Source

When I was in my late teens my uncle bombarded me with self-help books: how to win through intimidation, Al Koran's philosophy on psychic techniques to make money; metaphysical affirmations that spiritualists use, Christian Science and Positive Thinking of Norman Vincent Peale, and success recipes galore, Napoleon Hill's exhaustive hard cover volume of Laws of Success from which the popular paper back was taken, How to think and grow rich; naturalist health text books, and many other types of self advancement books which he gave me to read, sometimes ten at a time, because I am a fast reader, to change my way of thinking.
I did read all of them and then one day, I took them all back to him and said, 'I prefer to stick to what I read in the Bible for a foundation for the rest of my life.'
'Suit yourself,' he said and packed the books away, one by one, in his bookshelf.
He ended up being divorced several times and left the ministry for a while and got involved in all sorts of businesses. He sold all the churches which his father, my grandfather, had built up to start his own denomination and moved to America with his one son.
Then in Australia, when Nola and I worked as worship leaders in the largest Charismatic Church in Australia at that time, the pastor forced me to attend a self-motivational course which all his staff members had to go through. He listened to the motivational tapes all day long in his car. And he built a lot of that stuff into his sermons on Sundays.'I can run this church without the Holy Spirit and no one will ever notice it!' he boasted.
The CEO of the motivational company asked me a bit about myself and then when I saw his stiff leg protruding from behind his desk I inquired about it.
'This is what your God did to me. I was a Methodist minister and I struggled to make a living just like all of you do. And then I was in a car accident and they put a steel rod into my leg. Now I can't walk properly. I left the ministry and started this business. I can make you famous and rich. I have made your pastor famous and rich. I can make anyone famous and rich!' he boasted and mentioned the name of a famous hair dresser in Brisbane and a famous tennis player in Australia that epitomized his success theories.
Suddenly I got up and said, 'I do not need your course, thank you, I prefer not to get anything from you.' I walked out. He screamed after me and told me I would never make it without him. He called me some names which I prefer not to repeat. He was a bitter and a twisted man and I didn't want his influence in my life at all.
Outside, when I got to my car, I raised both my hands skywards and made a vow: 'If the Holy Spirit cannot make me successful in what I have to do, I want no other help!'
I stuck to my vow through the years. I have now preached and ministered in 61 nations in 27 years and we have helped to plant and establish scores of churches. We have produced many LP's, tapes, CD's, Video films and DVD's, books, manuals, bible school material, life skills courses and life coaching manuals which have been distributed through many countries. We have produced musicals, held great concerts and trained more than a thousand people in our bible school.
Perhaps it is not 'rich and famous' but it is a life well spent so far and I hope to continue doing so as long as I have breath. I made a vow when I was 19 years old, on a snow covered hillside outside Leimbach, near Zurich in Switzerland, that I would serve God and humanity as long as I was spared and kept healthy.
The Bible has been my main source of inspiration all these years and I have trained many, many people how to hear from God from an Open Bible.

Roger Federer's thinking process

Roger Federer was surprisingly knocked out of the clay court competition in the second round by a 40th seeded player. The post match interview had him scratching his head trying to explain this strange phenomenon.
'It becomes so easy to win that one forget just how hard it is to dominate this tennis circuit. But a loss is perhaps just what is needed to wake you up again. When you keep on winning you stop thinking about how you are going to play and take things for granted. You do not think of how to play agains the next opponent and then something like this happens. You have to check your thoughts and change your thinking in order to win again.'
Notice how many times he referred to 'think'. There is a key here. How man thinks; so is he. Every action has been pre-meditated, good or bad. If you can think through something and think strongly enough, it will bring the required result.
There are the uncontrollable issues that you just have to accept as they come your way, but having clear thoughts about what you do is very important, if you are the world's best tennis player or not.
The apostolic injunction is to continually renew your mind with the Word of God - to begin to think the thoughts of God. Jesus rebuked Peter for thinking the thoughts of the flesh instead of the thoughts of God. Later on Paul tells us to learn to think about things that are 'above' and not 'beneath'.
There is an elevated thought life that rises above the things that want to drag you down all the time. It is a controlled thought life that leads to a life of self-control.
Roger Federer clearly told us all that it is important how we think about things in our life. The mouth speaks out of the abundance of the heart. And the small rudder that determines the ship's course is like the tongue that controls our lives.
It is good to take some time off to just think through issues and determine which course to take or which thoughts to allow or disallow.
Clear conceptual thinking is something very valuable. We have to learn to excerice our minds, just as we excercise our bodies and learn to excercise our spirits as well. But that is another story all together...

Buzz Lightyear

I met Buzz Aldrin when he came to Johannesburg many years ago. I had to accompany Marli Kelly on the pinao. She was asked sing a song before Buzz spoke. I sat next to him on the platform. His wife and daughter was with him.
The first thing I noticed was his funny shoes. He explained that all the men who went to the moon returned with some physical defect. 'We're not made to walk on the moon,' he told me. The arches of his feet sank permanently and he had to wear specially built up shoes.
He wasn't a believer on the way to the moon but after that experience and on the way back he changed his mind. 'There has to be a God if you see how beautiful the earth is from space,' he told me.
My grandmother on my mother's side saw a vision in 1965 of a man in a cumbersome white suit walking on the moon. He was wearing a helmet. We laughed at her and sometimes even mocked her as we watched the full moon rising.
'There's Ouma's man on the moon!'
In 1968 my granny sat at the kitchen table of my Uncle in P.E. listening to the radio anouncing the first landing on the moon. Neil Armstrong's famous words came over the air from outer space,'one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind!'

They named Buzz Lightyear after Buzz Aldrin. The comic character always goes beyond existing borders: to infinity and beyond!

Buzz told me about the extreme tests they had to go through to eliminate all the hopefulls until they only had a handful men left over to select the first team to walk on the moon. They had to be made of the right stuff. They had to be able to handle extreme pressure. If you make the wrong decision up there you destroy the mission and the men who are with you.

J. F. Kennedy said, 'you ask, 'why go to the moon?', and I say, 'why not?' We choose to go to the moon!'

I remember those days. There were some old folks who refused to believe it was happening. They said,'it's a capitalist trick of the Americans!' Just like the guy they found in the jungle who was still fighting the war in Borneo 32 years after the war had ended!

Bob Dylan sang, 'The times they are a changin',
ccome gather round people wherever you roam,
and admit that the waters around your head has grown
And accept it that soon you'll be drenched to the bone
If your time to be here is worth saving
And you better start swimmming or you'll sink like stone
For the times they are a changin'

A prophet in song, Dylan, for surely times have changed, incredibly. And those who do not change with it, fall far behind...in business, education, electronics or church...especially church...they want to continue as if their rituals are everlasting...and the times have already changed!

Buzz is a comic character to today's kids - to me he was a real hero.

Every Generation

Every Generation
Mike & the Mechanics sang a song, ‘Every Generation blames the one before…’ and then tells how he tried to communicate with his own father but just wasn’t able to ‘ In the Living Years’.
I heard this song the first day after my own father died. It made me weep. I sat alone in a hotel room in Bloemfontein and sobbed. I missed my father. His death came suddenly. I had read a scripture an hour before he died: ‘go ahead without me, I am an old man and I will just make your journey cumbersome.’ An hour later my mother phoned me and said, ‘Boetie, don’t get a fright, but your dad passed away this morning.’
We were all going to East London as a family for a holiday to watch Aje, my first son, play cricket for Northern Transvaal Primary Schools in the Perm Week. My dad greeted him at the airport when he received his Provincial colours.
That is the last time we saw him here on earth. It was sad. I remember going to my parent’s house and he was already taken away to the mortuary. My mother showed me where he laid. She was busy in her bathroom and he was in his, shaving. Then he gasped for his breath, three times, and she heard him collapse. When she opened the bathroom door he was lying on the floor with his head on the ledge of the shower. It happened in three seconds. In three seconds he exchanged the earthly for the eternal realm. He stepped over from this life to the life hereafter. Death was the doorway for him into another world.
I drove back to our home in 57 Marais Street, Brooklyn, Pretoria (now Tswane) that we rented from an old farmer. I decided to go for a morning swim. As I dived into the cold pool on that warm summer’s day, 12th of the 12th 1989, I felt the coolness of the water release the heat in my body and as I came up out of the water I said goodbye to my father: ‘Goodbye Oupa!’ I released his spirit to leave the earth – that’s how I felt.
It was not difficult for me to bury him. I had to conduct the service in Alberton Apostolilc Faith Mission Church hall and in the graveyard I threw the last sand on his coffin. My sister cried a lot. For some reason she wanted my golden Cross Ballpoint Pen and I gave it to her, but she dropped it into the grave onto the coffin. I let it go. It was buried with him in his grave like the old Pharaoh’s took their golden wealth with them into the pyramids.
Before he died he told me, ‘I have no regrets, my son.’ Few people can say that. He also used to say, ‘if you want to die by faith, you have to live by faith.’ Something else he was known for was a saying, ‘born once, die twice; born twice, die once.’ This referred to the second death which is an eternal separation from God. If you are born again by spirit and water (John 3:3-5) you will once experience the physical death and not the spiritual death.
I miss my dad. We had our misunderstandings, but in the end we loved one another to overlook the differences and accept each other as we are. He was a militarist and a planner; I am an artist and a non-conformist.
Every generation has its differences. He grew up in the depression years and during two world wars. He knew what it was like to rebuild lives after devastating wars. Every penny counted. I grew up in the Hippie Revolution and went to university in the Woodstock year, ’69. Long hair and floral shirts, bell bottom jeans and high heel boots…wasn’t what he wanted to see in his son. And then I became an actor…the worst nightmare for a pastor in a Pentecostal Church!
But later on I became a missionary and he used to listen to me preach – differently – and even made some notes which I have with me today.
God bless his heart for all he did for me and for all he was: he was a simple man and kept a middle of the road existence, no fancy cars or clothes. He saved what he could and left some money for my mother to survive on. We inherited a small amount eventually that helped us along the way.
He gave up a lucrative business career and sold his brass and iron factory in Alrode to use the money in the full time ministry to subsidise us as a family for the salary was small and the pension hardly enough to buy bread and milk every day! He gave up his life for the Gospel’s sake, and for that I highly honour him. Few men of his calibre would have done the same. But because he was in the ministry, like both my grandparents and my uncle, I entered the mission field and my son Aje is now the 4th Generation preacher! We might not be wealthy factory owners, but we have a wealth hidden in the preaching of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. That is our riches!

Incredible India

I saw something I will never forget: a cow stepping up to the counter in a street shop and being fed rooties by the shop owner, one by one, chewing them like chewing gum!
The cows lie in the middle of the road: a black and white cow on the black tar and white markings of the road in the heavy late afternoon traffic in Chennai - and everyone drove around it!
Then I also saw cows rummaging for something to eat among the rubbish piled up on the side of the road together with some threadbare stray dogs.
And baboons playing on the steps of the hotel - completely unafraid of people.
I saw mountains high, covered with tea plantations on either side, as far as you can drive with the car. Who on earth drinks so much tea? The English?
And I saw shrines everywhere on the most unexpected places - with priests waiting for your offering.
I saw every man with a white smear on his forehead.
What is that? I asked.
Cow's dung. The priest mixes it with ash and puts it on the forehead as a sign that the man visited the temple. They wear it with pride.
I saw an old man pick up cow's dung to take to the temple. Compensation from the priest, perhaps.
I saw moustaches that belong to the old colonial age on doorkeepers: the more prestigious the hotel, the larger the sergeant-major handle bar moustache!
I saw Mahatma Ghandi everywhere, statues, busts, head and shoulders, paintings, T-shirts, book covers, restaurants.
I saw the motorised riksha's and travelled in one with Yve, my daughter, who accompanied me on the mission to India.
We travelled by train through the night from Tirupur to Chennai and back again after a few days. The age old Indian train: fuller than full, curtain and bed affair, dirty toilets, or actually no toilets, just a hole in the floor!
And they sell curry on the train - like everywhere else.
But the curry we tasted was delicious, it was delicate, it was exquisite, it was divine and the different breads, the rooties, the parata's and the wonderful spices and sauces, the freshly squeezed juices ranging from watermelon to coconut, mango to melon, berry to grape fruit, paw-paw to banana the never ending freshness of fruit to tantalize the palate of the weary traveller.
And the congested cities, the ancient villages, the narrow mountain passes, the risky crossing of a street with hundreds of 50 cc mopeds charging at you!
And all the hooting - every car has a sing on the back - honk please! And they do and they communicate that way: it means, I'm coming through, it means, I am through, it means, thanks for letting me through! It means watch out! It means hello! It means there is another car coming! It means I am turning off now! It means goodbye! Hooty is a national language, to say the least.
And everyone plays cricket everywhere on each and every available space.
And the people are really friendly, everywhere, without expecting a tip or anything else in return. It is genuine friendliness.
And the tilting rolling heads from side to side meaning I agree, I agree! The more they like what you are saying the more the head rols from side to side.
I saw pilgrims, barefoot, carrying heavy idols as punishment, travelling alone or in groups until they reach the temple where they will pay their vows.
I saw signs saying 'Bollywood movies are shot here'.
I saw sunsets sublime, sunrises like an artist's palate, I saw the sun reflect on a lake, I saw the moon from our window, I saw colourful sahri's, dohties, and I saw innocent children run free; I saw great poverty and I saw great wealth; I saw streetsweepers accepting their role in this life graciously and I saw proud businessment swaggering into hotel lobbies; I saw faces that will remained engraved on my memory stick forever, with wrinkles and lines and piercing eyes that burn into you telling you what has taken place for thousands of years in a moment's glance...
Ah, India, a land of mystery and a land of beauty, a land of contrasts and a land of deep sorrow, yet silent joy.
Will I go again? Who knows. I hope I will. India is Incredible.

The Script for the New Year

Here we go again!
The New Year has begun. It is 2010. Things have increased with a speed, as Nola says.

When you take a horse out of the stable it is sluggish and you have to spur it on to go on a trot. But when you have reached the end of your excursion and turns its nose around to go home it suddenly receives renewed energy to get back to the stable!

Amazing how the finishing tape spurs runners on to put in their best effort.
We tend to slow down at the end of a year and to pick up speed at the start, don't we. We need to learn how to pace ourselves. We need to know our own rhythms. We cannot keep track of other people and what they are doing.

We cannot run the race of faith without patience. Patience is the stabilizing force that keeps faith upright. Telephone poles used to have strong iron cables to keep them upright. Today they seem to stand on their own, but they do have some kind of re-inforcement.

Let us look on the bright side of life as we start out. There is someone up there watching over us.

I watched Paul Newman many years ago playing Rocky Marciano in a black and white movie that also had a cameo role for Steve McQueen. It is a kind of feel good movie. You feel a few feet taller when you walk out of the cinema. Then I saw Zabriskie Point and felt horrible when I walked out: there was something that made you feel like destroying property. Movies have a great effect on life. So does TV. But the most important visual imagery should be on the inside. The movie you have of yourself.

Each one of us has a movie. We play the starring role. We recollect things that happened to us and we tend to settle with the image projected about us by others. But deep thought and accurate words about ourselves can actually change the movie script. We have an amazing ability to write our own script. We can choose the scenes. It is a divine ability. We can help others to create a better movie for their lives by speaking encouraging words to them and by building them up rather than breaking them down.

We have to learn to ignore and spit out all the negative information we receive from those who mean us harm. Just like a computer security is set to remove all the spam mail and all the junk mail without any effort, so we have to build a positive stronghold of faith within ourselves to cope with all the curve balls life throws at us. We need to be able to handle all the unfair criticism, all the jealousy and envy, all the hatred and all the pain.

We overcome by faith and faith works by love. To love is to be patient and kind and show goodness and mercy to others. You are patient with the one you love. You speak kindly to those you love.

God is patient with us. He is longsuffering towards us. He waits for us to understand His lovingkindness. He does not reject us when we make mistakes. He does not treat us according to what we deserve. His goodness leads us to repentance. He could have been severe but instead he reveals his love to us. That amazes us. We sing 'Amazing grace how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me, I once was lost but now I'm found, I was blind but now I see' with the songwriter who was a slave trader and experienced God's mercy when they faced a storm on the high seas that threatened to destroy their vessel. When they made it safely to the shore, he wrote the song that describes all our experiences outside of God's love and care.

When we begin to rewrite our own movie script of how we see ourselves in the light of God's love we see the picture changing before our very eyes! And then we can love others because we have experienced God's love.

May the New Year bring the desired changes in all of us to the betterment of others and to the greater glory of God, as Mike Wood, my Aussie buddy likes to say.