Appreciation

I have just retired after 36 years of teaching apprentices the trade of automotive refinishing. I have learned many things during that time with young people, but one of the most powerful is that of the art of appreciation. I realised early in my career that many of the boys who came my way were never given recognition for their good work. I heard time and time again from employers the same statement: "If I tell them they've done a good job, they'll just get a big head." I decided to give credit where credit was due, telling them when they'd done well. How much of an effect that had on them, I probably will never know. However, as I've visited workshops through the years, past students have come to say hello and talk positively about their time at college. In Philippians 1:3 it says, "I thank my God upon every remembrance of you." I was reading the Bible in a Year devotion and on Thursday, August 26 (I have no idea what year), I recorded the following related to appreciation. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did at the time.

Helen Mrosla, a teaching nun, tells of the day her kids were fighting in class. So she made them each take a piece of paper, list the names of all the other students - and write something they liked about each of them. Then she wrote the name of each student at the top of a fresh sheet of paper, listed all the nice things the other students had said about them, and gave it to them. As they read them in amazement, they each said, "I never knew they felt that way!"

Helen moved away, but years later when she came home on vacation, her dad said to her, "The Ecklands called last night to say their son Mark was killed in Vietnam, and they'd like you to come to the funeral." After the service, Mark's former classmates gathered in the family home, including Helen, their old teacher. Suddenly Mark's dad said to her, "I'd like to show you something. I found it in my son's wallet." Opening a billfold, he removed a familiar sheet of paper that was now yellow and worn - listing all the good things each of his classmates had said about him. Then one by one smiling sheepishly, all the others opened their purses and billfolds too, and produced theirs. Helen said, "All I could do was just sit down and cry."

What would make a boy carry a fifteen-year-old piece of paper everywhere he went; even to his death in a rice paddy halfway around the world? The answer is, appreciation! There are people all around you today who are hungy and hurting for it. Make sure you give it to them.

The other day I was on the internet and inadvertently came across a website asking, "Is there life after death?" I was looking to find a certain part for my motorcycle, but I found this subject too interesting to pass up. There was a plethora of information available, but one site caught my interest. It was an article from The Guardian newspaper (Sunday, 15 May 2011) on an interview with Britain's most eminent scientist, Stephen Hawking. The headline read There Is No Heaven, It's a Fairy Story. When Mr Hawking was asked if there was anything that he feared about death, his response in part was "I regard the brain as a computer which will stop working when its components fail. There is no heaven or afterlife for broken down computers; that is a fairy story for people afraid of the dark."

It often strikes me how people will bet their life on a certain belief. As a Christian, I am a man of faith and obviously disagree with Hawking's point of view. I have been reading a book by John Ortberg called Faith & Doubt. In one section he brought into view the opposing beliefs about the existence of life after death. He said,

We may not like the silence; we may not have chosen to have unanswered questions, but we must choose how we will understand them, what we will bet our lives on. I invite you to consider two alternatives and their consequences. One of them, to paraphrase atheist Bertrand Russell, is “you are the product of causes that have no purpose or meaning. Your origin, your growth, your hopes, fears, loves, beliefs are the outcome of accidental collections of atoms. No fire, heroism or intensity of thought or feeling can preserve your life from beyond the grave. All the devotion, all the inspiration, all the labour of all the ages are destined to extinction in the vast death of the solar system. The whole temple of human achievement must inevitably be buried in the debris of a universe in ruins. That's what we're headed for.”

Or you can choose this: “You are the uniquely designed creation of a thoroughly good and unspeakably creative God. You are made in His image, with a capacity to reason, choose, and love that sets you above all other life forms. You will not only survive death, but you yourself were made to bear an eternal weight of glory you cannot now even fathom and you will one day know.” . . .

. . . “What do we want to believe?” is one of the most important questions we can ask when it comes to the search for faith. The reason this question is important for us is that if we want to, we can find ways that explain away every reason for faith: The existence of creation; stories of answered prayer; evidence of the resurrection; testimonies of changed lives; the unmatched wisdom of Jesus; and the tugging and longing of your own heart for grace, forgiveness, meaning, wholeness, transcendence , and heaven. If you want badly enough not to believe, you will find a way not to believe. I often find myself wishing, given the damage that doubt can do, that God would just remove it. But He generally doesn’t. Maybe He has a reason not to.

–John Ortberg, Faith & Doubt

Information has no power to persuade or transform until it is given ART.
–Tim Downs, Finding Common Ground

When Christians attempt to communicate to non-Christians, we must first think through their assumptions and imagine how they will likely receive the message we are conveying. That process will affect the words we choose, the form and, most importantly, the content we can get across. If we err on the side of too much content as Christians often do, the nett effect is the same as if we had included no content.
–Philip Yancey, Open Windows

When the Scriptures are unwrapped and the gift of meaning is lying exposed, the Christian thinks his task is done. Now he makes the greatest mistake of all: He takes his naked, artless set of propositions and precepts out into the world to show others, and to his astonishment they could not be less interested. At this point the Christian has accomplished something truly remarkable, something that may have required a seminary degree. He has taken the most fascinating, life-transforming communication in the world and made it boring.

–Tim Downs, Finding Common Ground

It's been quite awhile since my last blog. I realise it's been a long time between drinks. It was never my intention for it to be so long, but the last couple of months have presented challenges that have required much of my attention. I do apologise and hope that I will be able to communicate more regularly in the future.

When I became a Christian, I wondered how I could effectively share my faith with other people. It wasn't long before I learnt that there was a right way to do it. That confused and bewildered me as I felt that the right way wasn't my style. When I asked questions about other ways, it often came across as "if it ain't broke, don't fix it". The following is an example of how change was rewarded with a far better outcome. I'll let you read on and hopefully you'll see what I mean.

The Horse Whisperer

During a 60 Minutes program, Monty Roberts taught the world his method of horse whispering. It involves him getting into the corral with the untamed mustang and staying as far from the animal as possible, without leaving the enclosure. He also refuses to allow eye contact between himself and the horse. By moving slowly, but surely, away from the horse and by keeping his head averted from the animal's gaze, Monty slowly draws the horse to himself. Even though the beast is pounding the earth with his hoof and snorting and circling the corral with great speed, Monty keeps circling slowly away from the horse. He won't look at it. He won't approach it. As astounding as it sounds, within an hour Monty can have a wild mustang saddled and carrying a rider quite happily. When asked his secret, he says, "These animals need contact with others so much, they would rather befriend their enemy than be left alone." When he discovered his method of "whispering" into the horse's deepest longing, he told his weather-beaten father, uncles and brothers that there was no longer the need to crush the mustang's spirit. To this day, in spite of the evidence that it works, Montana ranchmen still use the traditional approach. Monty's story reminds us of the church. Even though he has discovered an effective way of listening to horses (his own term), the old Montana horsemen won't budge. They've been breaking horses their way for generations. Why should they change now? The church might say, we've been "breaking" sinners like them for generations. Why should we change now?

Recently Jason Elsmore challenged us to go deeper with God–listen to what He says and do it. This week I was reading Exodus 36 that describes the building of the Tabernacle. I've read the story many times and have always seen it as an interesting account, but not personally relevant. I’ve also been reading a book by John Ortberg (one that I would recommend every person to read) called The Me I Want to Be: Becoming God's Best Version of You. On the same day I read Exodus 36, I read the chapter titled "Try Going Off the Deep End With God."

Researchers once surveyed people about their favourite room in the house. The top answer was the kitchen. People love that one. Most husbands’ top answer was the bedroom. Want to guess what the top answer was for mothers of young children?

The bathroom.

Why? You lock the door. You keep those little rugrats out of there for at least a couple of minutes. You keep your husband out of there for at least a couple of minutes. The idea is that you find some place where you know you are alone. You are free of stress. You find a sanctuary–a holy place.

God wants to give us sanctuary. There is another kind of presence when we are gather together, but there is a unique way in which we experience the presence of God when we are alone. . . .

. . . Dutch theologian Abraham Kuyper wrote that there is a similarity between the structure of each individual life and the structure of the tabernacle in the Old Testament, which was divided into three compartments.

There was the outer court, where everyone had access. Likewise, there is a
public you. You too have an outer court, which is you when you go to work,
shop, or play. This is your appearance or your image, and everyone sees
this part of you.

In the tabernacle there was also an inner chamber called the Holy Place. Not everyone had access to this area, and most were not allowed in. You too have a holy place, the place where you only allow certain people to enter, such as your friends or family. You decide who comes in and who doesn't, and no one can force their way in. Someone may hold power over you vocationally or financially, but that does not allow them entrance. Maybe someone wormed their way in, and you have to see a therapist to get them out. But ultimately everyone gets to decide who they allow in that inner chamber.

Then there was one more chamber–a very small, carefully guarded place, deep inside. It was the most sacred, and they had a beautiful name for this: the Holy of Holies. It was entered only by the chief priest and there was room there for only one person and God.

This is the mystery and depth and amazing truth about you, because whether you are young or old, high or low on the totem pole, you have one of these places inside you too. Only God is allowed in there. No other human being can come into your Holy of Holies.

. . . You carry your soul around with you all the time. It may be filled with joy and peace; it may be empty and neglected. People who just look at the outer you–sometimes even people who are in the inner court–do not see your soul. No one knows about this but you and God.

We are drawing close to what is probably the most important time in the Christian calendar, the time when believers recognise and celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus. Over the years, a lot of people have questioned the validity of this event. I found the following account regarding the Watergate crisis very interesting in relation to this issue.

History reveals that after the criminal investigation of the White House began—as it did with Dean’s April 8 meeting with the prosecutors—the end of Mr. Nixon’s presidency was only a matter of time. The cover-up was discovered—and doomed—and this is why the dates are so important. For though the cover-up technically dated back to the June 1972 break-in, the serious cover-up, the part everyone knew or should have known was criminal—really began March 21, 1973. And it ended April 8, 1973.

With the most powerful office in the world at stake, a small band of handpicked loyalists could not hold a conspiracy together for more than two weeks.

Think of what was at stake: Each of us involved—Ehrlichman, Haldeman, Mitchell, and the rest—believed passionately in President Nixon. To enter government service for him we had sacrificed very lucrative private law practices and other endeavours; we had sacrificed our family lives and privacy; we had invested our whole lives in the work, twenty-four hours a day, if necessary. Only a few months earlier the President had been re-elected in an historic landslide victory; the ugly Asian war was finally over; we were riding the crest in every way.

Think of the power at our fingertips: a mere command from one of us could mobilize generals and cabinet officers, even armies; we could hire or fire personnel and manage billions in agency budgets.

Think of the privileges, a call to the military aide’s office would produce a limousine or jet airplane; The National Gallery delivered classic paintings to adorn our office walls; red-jacketed stewards stood in waiting to serve food and drink twenty-four hours a day; private phones appeared wherever we travelled; secret service men were always in sight - as many as we wanted.

Yet even the prospect of jeopardizing the President we had worked so hard to elect, of losing the prestige, power, and the personal luxury of our offices was not enough incentive to make this group of men contain a lie. Nor, as I reflect today, was the pressure really all that great; at that point there had certainly been moral failures, criminal violations, even perjury by some. There was certain to be keen embarrassment; at the worst some might go to prison, though that possibility was by no means certain. But no one was in grave danger; no one’s life was at stake.

Yet after just a few weeks the natural human instinct for self-preservation was so overwhelming that the conspirators, one by one, deserted their leader, walked away from their cause, turned their backs on the power, prestige, and privileges.

So what does this have to do with the resurrection of Jesus Christ? Simply this: Modern criticism of the historic truth of Christianity boils down to three propositions: first, that the disciples were mistaken; or second, that the disciples knowingly perpetrated a myth, intended as a symbol; or third, the eleven disciples conceived a “Passover plot”—spirited the body of Christ out of the tomb and disposed of it neatly—and to their dying breaths maintained conspiratorial silence. . . .

. . . That is why the Watergate experience is so instructive for me. If John Dean and the rest of us were so panic stricken, not by the prospect of beatings and execution, but by political disgrace and a possible prison term, one can only speculate about the emotions of the disciples.

The Watergate cover-up reveals, I think, the true nature of humanity. None of the memoirs suggest that anyone went to the prosecutor’s office out of such noble notions as putting the Constitution above the President . . . Even political zealots . . . will save their own necks in the crunch, though it be at the expense of the one they profess to serve so zealously.

Is it really likely, then, that a deliberate cover-up, a plot to perpetuate a lie about the Resurrection, could have survived the violent persecution of the apostles, the scrutiny of early church councils, the horrendous purge of the first-century believers who were cast by thousands to the lions for refusing to renounce the Lordship of Christ. Is it not possible that at least one of the apostles would have renounced Christ before being beheaded or stoned? Is it not likely that some “smoking gun” document might have been produced exposing the “Passover plot”?

Blaise Pascal, the extraordinary mathematician, scientist, inventor, and logician of the seventeenth century, was convinced of the truth of Christ by examination of the historical record. . . . As Pascal correctly observes, man in his normal state will renounce his beliefs just as readily as Peter renounced Jesus before the Resurrection. But the same Peter discovered after the Resurrection, there is a power beyond man that causes him to forsake all. It is the power of the God who revealed Himself in the person of Jesus Christ.

Take it from one who was inside the Watergate web looking out, who saw firsthand how vulnerable a cover-up is: Nothing less than a witness as awesome as the resurrected Christ could have caused those men to maintain their dying whispers that Jesus is alive and Lord.

This weight of evidence tells me the apostles were indeed telling the truth: Jesus did rise bodily from the grave; He is who He says He is. Thus, He speaks with the absolute authority of the all-powerful God.

- Charles Coulson, Loving God

William never let anyone forget that their main purpose was to reach people with the Gospel. All other activities of the Army were focused on this. William and Catherine knew that real help and permanent change only came when the Spirit of God would touch these people’s lives. —William & Catherine Booth, Salvation Army

The cross is God’s truth to us, and therefore it is the only power which can make us truthful. When we know the cross, we are no longer afraid of the truth. We need no more oaths to confirm the truth of our utterance, for we live the perfect truth of God. There is no truth towards Jesus without truth towards man. Untruthfulness destroys fellowship, but truth cuts false fellowship to pieces and establishes genuine brotherhood. We cannot follow Christ unless we live in revealed truth before God and man. —Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Some years ago, I was having a conversation with a friend about the downturn in popularity of trades as a career option for young people. In the thirty-odd years that I've taught as a technical teacher, I've noticed the gradual thinning of ranks in the apprenticeship system. There have been a number of causes for this, but when I went to high school, if you were practically minded, you chose subjects that would complement your strengths as well as the 3 Rs. In recent years it has sometimes seemed that to pursue a trade is only an option where nothing else is available. The friend I was speaking to was involved in an academic field. He agreed on where I was coming from and some time later passed on the following story.

I Must Have a Degree

Before we start let us make one point clear about the statement and the title of this talk; the words "I must have a degree" do not refer to myself. Nor did I utter them. Also, I have not the slightest intention, nor the temerity or impudence to offer any views publicly on the question of education. I become far too indignant when I read in the press or listen radio-wise to people offering opinions on subjects of which I feel I have some practical knowledge and they have none, and I have no practical knowledge of education and how it should be pursued by the young. Certainly we have all read so much in the press that we are apt to be a bit confused as to what is really needed: Overcrowded universities - we are in need of so many more we are told - Wyndham Report in New South Wales, Martin Report in Victoria - all a bit confusing to many of us for sure.

It happened this way. Recently I gave a lift to three very nice country High School boys - they had missed their school bus through playing cricket. We talked cricket, we talked football out of season, and we had a word about tennis, until I brought the conversation round to the boys' future, when they left school - always an interesting subject if you like young people.

They were all going on to the Uni if they got their Matric, one to do an Arts Course, another to do Science; the third admitted he was not as bright as the other two, he'd take whatever course was the easiest, because as he put it - "I must have a degree". From then on the conversation went something like this. Me - "Why a degree?" "To get a good job." "Who said so?" "Only have to look at the ads in Saturday's paper - all the jobs state academic qualifications. If you haven't got one, you're on the outer." "What sort of firms or institutions demand these qualifications?" "Private firms, the Government - even the ABC offers a bonus if you've got a couple of letters after your name."

This was most interesting to me. My next question - "What happens when we reach a stage when there are more degrees than degree jobs?" That was a funny one - They'd worry about that one when it happened. Did the self-dubbed dull one really want to go on to the Uni? Not really, it would be fun, and then after all, as he said before "I must have a degree".

By this time we'd arrived at the boys' destination. I reached for my briefcase from the back seat of the car, took out a very old and faded script with a quote read some 10 or 12 yars ago in a Countryman's Session, but to my knowledge in Victoria only. One of the boys read it aloud. Feeling a bit out of character myself as I loathe being preached to, and trust I don't do any myself, I suggested that they give some thought to the message. This was it.

Some years ago at a University Dinner, given to mark the end of University life for the students, an astounding speech was made by a man who claimed never to have a made a speech before in his life. He was one of a company of 150 students who had just closed their University life, some with Honours and not a few without.

This speech was published in a periodical "Teachers World" by a Mr. A. Irvine very many years ago, and this was the speech:

"Gentlemen, I have never made a speech in my life before and I don't intend to begin now. I have something to say, and in saying it I will follow Luther's three-fold rule, Stand up straight, speak out boldly, and sit down quickly.

"We are in one of the famous banquetting halls of the world. Belshazzar's Hall compared to this was a lodging on the third floor back. No such Art existed in those days as we see around this room. What was there was elegant for that day, but we live in another age, an age of art, craftsmanship and luxury. From the four corners of the earth came the things on this table. From the lowest forms of day labour to the highest forms of art we have around us samples of at least a hundred forms of human work.

"Take this tablecloth to begin with. It is of the most exquisite workmanship. It involves - to go no further back, bleaching, smoothing, designing. It is a damask linen, and most pleasing to the eye. I want to ask you a question: Is there anyone here who knows from personal experience anything about the labour involved? Have any of you ever contributed any labour to the manufacture of table linen? I'm serious, gentlemen. If any of you have, I should like him to say so."

There was absolute silence. I understand then he continued:

"That the making of such things is beyond your ken. Let me draw your attention to the samples of pottery here. Surely the men and women who produce such things are artists. What a joy it must be for a man to hold such a thing in his hand, complete, and say "I made it". Many forms of labour are involved here, also the digging of the clay, the carting, fashioning, painting, burning, baking and finishing. If there is a man here who has ever touched this form of labour, let him answer."

No one.

"There are samples of the most exquisite, and I know costly, cut glass. That also involves much labour and great art. It is a unique industry in itself; I would be rather surprised to find a man among you who had ever touched this industry at any angle."

He drew attention to the carpet and rugs on the floor, to the beautiful curtains and the drapery ofthe great windows, to the mural decorations executed bythe greatest mural painter. When he had gone over most of the things in the room he called attention to the table.

"These cut flowers here," he said, "Most of you spent some years in the study of botany, but I don't think any of you would undertake to give the complete classification of what we see on the table."

There was a disposition to laugh, but he wiped the smile from every face around the table by quietly saying:

"Perhaps you are to be congratulated when a sense of humour covers a multitude of sins, but personally I cannot enjoy that which gives me pain. I am a respresentative university man, seriously asking myself - and you - whether the system we call education - educates."

The silence was oppressive, the men were thinking.

"Perhaps," he continued, "I should have put you more at your ease by telling at the beginning that I have never experienced the joy of fashioning articles with my own hands. Nor anything useful for that matter. Here we are then, a group of men on whom the University has set its stamp. We produce nothing we eat. We could not lend a hand in making anything we see around us. Truth compels me to venture the suggestion that in 99 cases out of 100, the chief motive of a College education is to escape actual participation in just such work as gives, or should give, joy to the worker.

"A time keeper performs a useful function, but the function of education is not to turn out time keepers or cash registers. It has been truly said that if ten Bachelors of Arts were wrecked in mid-ocean they could not build a pontoon to save their lives. They would be equally helpless in any criticial emergency where practical knowledge of the ordinary things around us was imperatively necessary. A statement of the problem is not a solution, and we do not gain much by stating that the system is to blame and we are not. You are certainly not to blame. You are the victims of whatever system we have. I cannot say that I'm blameless. I do not believe that a smattering of languages or mathematics or history is education. I believe that the cramming of these things to pass an examination is pernicious. So having been asked for the first time in my life to deliver an address, I made it an opportunity to enter my protest. Education is to prepare and to equip for the responsibilities and duties of life, not to turn out industrial and commercial bosses, gaffers, time keepers, and cash registers. I would be hardly justified in taking up your time with these observations alone. So, in addition, most of you are destined to be masters of men. You will organise and mobilise their labour; you will oversee it. When you see men around you actually creating beautiful things with their hands, I want you to remember that it was my opinion that actual labour in the arts and crafts and industries is an infinitely nobler contribution to the happiness of mankind than clipping coupons and living in the sweat of other men's brows. It will not come in our day but the world will ultimately come to understand that the training of the mind is as necessary as the training of the body. Why should it be considered an unthinkable thing that a blacksmith, a carpenter or a farmer should need education?

"Why should College men think it degrading to handle tools, and make useful and beautiful things.

"I want to point out to you that the highest forms of culture and refinement known to mankind was ultimately associated with tools and labour.

"In order to do that I must present a picture, imaginative, but in accord with the facts of history and experience."

He pushed back his chair and stood a few feet from the table. His face betrayed deep emotion, his voice became wonderfully soft and irresistibly appealing. The audience had been interested; they were now spellbound. He raised his hand and went through the motion of drawing aside a curtain.

"Gentlemen, may I introduce a young Galilean who was a Master Builder - Jesus of Nazareth."

It was a weird act and the silence was oppressive. As if addressing an actual person of flesh and blood, he continued,

"Master, may I ask You as I asked these young men, whether there is anything in this room You could make with Your hands as other men do?"

There was a pause for a brief moment or two, then with a slow measured tread of an Oriental, he went to the end of the table, took the tablecloth in his hand and made bare the corner and carved leg of the great oak table. In that position he looked into the faces of the men and said:

"The Master says, 'Yes, I could make this table - I am a Carpenter.'"

-Fraser Parkes, broadcast on 2FC & Regs, 8.45 a.m., 6 February 1966