I dunno if we still use that phrase a lot but it kinda sums up my mate, Mase – he was a ‘top bloke’. (Imagine Darrell Kerrigan from The Castle saying it) The kinda man you love to hang out with, you’d want in your corner in a fight and the kinda bloke you can have a real, honest conversation with. 

I remember standing in Lesmurdie Baptist Church back in 1996 and speaking to a group of people who were checking me out to see if I would be the new youth pastor in the church. And I remember vividly seeing Graeme and Sharon’s faces and I thought ‘I am gonna like these people.’ They look like fun people to be around! I met them after the service briefly and I thought I do like these people. I got the job and I ended up with working with Graeme & Sharon in youth work for 5 or 6 years and they were some of the best years of our lives. It’s probably partly why his funeral is being held in that church. It was formative and significant for both of us.

What I remember most strongly about both Graeme and Sharon was that when we hung out we laughed – a lot – and not just chuckles… Deep belly laughs – roaring guffaws and splutters – often at things to do with bodily functions or anything polite society would consider totally inappropriate. I remember watching the first ‘Jackass’ with Mase – and I don’t know if I have ever laughed as much – two men totally unhinged watching other men do ridiculous things. (That should probably be filed under ‘confessions’…. )

And I loved that Mase could laugh at himself too. He was no prima donna. At one point in our youth work we had an issue with the young people leaving the church in a bit of a mess at the end of the night and we were getting sick of being cleaners as well as youth leaders. At one of our team meetings we began talking about ‘the cleaning fairy’ – who is this magical person who turns up every night and puts everything back where it belongs again? And then the idea came… let’s send in the ‘cleaning fairy’ to put the hard word on the young people about he mess. So Mase became that fairy, complete with tutu, alfoil wand, tiara and high heeled shoes. The ugliest fairy in the history of fairydom, but it did get the message across with a lot of laughs!

One of the things Mase and I shared deeply was a real desire to connect faith with ordinary Australian people who maybe found the church culture foreign, or who just worried that they didn’t/couldn’t fit in. We were both fans of a bloke called John Smith who started a Christian mission to outlaw biker gangs  – he was the kinda guy we gelled with because of his earthy approach to mission, grounded in well thought out theology. Smithy used to say if you want to have Australian people understand faith then we need to communicate in the language of the vernacular. Mase was good at speaking the language of the street – because he cared about the people on the street.  He was concerned to make a big deal about the things that were a big deal to Jesus. A few expletives here and there weren’t the focus of Jesus’ attention – but orienting your life towards the people who life seemed to have left behind was his sweet spot. 

I remember chatting with him after he had experienced a profound moment of revelation from reading Isaiah 58 – these verses particularly: 

The Lord will guide you always;

He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land

And will strengthen your frame.

You will be like a well-watered garden,

Like a spring whose waters never fail.

12 

Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins

And will raise up the age-old foundations;

You will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,

Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.

I remember him saying to me – this is who I am – a repairer of broken walls – translation = I come alongside people whose lives are in tatters and I help put them back together. Mase had a lot of love and a lot of patience for those whose lives were messy and broken and he wasn’t one for standing in judgement at any time. It’s ironic and tragic that knocking out a literal ‘broken wall’ was what killed him.

Working with the Dept of Justice in Carnarvon he was on the front line of the challenges faced by young people in the system and I remember many conversations with him about the people he was trying to help and his love for them. It was hard, draining work, but he was in his sweet spot.

And he could hold his own in conversations with university academics, or with bogans at the drags. We came at life from opposite ends – him a tradie turned professional (and then back into a tradie again) while I started off a professional and finished up a tradie. I still remember Mase coming round to help me put up a garden shed… I can’t believe I was once that DIY useless! To his credit he didn’t make me feel like a numpty for being so incompetent.

The youth ministry days have some wonderful memories – too many to write in detail, but here are a few:

The youth camp at Busselton where we spent the afternoon at Yallingup on a gnarly, stormy day with a big chaotic swell… and the kids asked if they could go into the water and ‘just walk on the reef.’ I said ‘yes’ (and I knew I should have said ‘NO!’) and then not even 10 minutes later T & R are washed off the back of the reef and drifting into the bay. It was dangerous that day – not water I would choose to enter voluntarily, but with 2 kids drifting towards South Africa making a rescue attempt seemed the only option open to me. With no lifesavers on hand, and no-one else even in sight, I grabbed a kid’s bodyboard and started paddling out, hoping one bodyboard between 3 of us would do the trick. I was genuinely scared and not even sure we would make it back in. 

I got to the kids and turned for shore – only to see Graeme coming towards us… I wasn’t a great swimmer and without being unkind, he wasn’t looking like the lifesaver I was hoping would come out. I was more than a little worried that his 120kgs might be more than the bodyboard could handle. In the end we were really fortunate. We sidestroked our way to safety and back to shore. Bu the sight of him paddling out had me thinking ‘crikey now I’ve got 3 to save!’ You had to love his willingness to jump in and put his own safety on the line.

Another memorable (for all the wrong reasons) youth event was the prayer and fasting camp at Gooralong in Serpentine. Graeme and I were leaders and we were joined by 6 teenagers. Unfortunately we didn’t get the memo that a tribe of about 40 bikies had also planned a night of drinking and partying at the same campsite. So there were 8 of us and a gang of bikies… In hindsight we should have just packed up and gone somewhere else, but early in the evening they were just getting warmed up and seemed fairly docile. However by the time we were in our tents they were in full swing, loud and menacing and they kept partying until about 3am. I was awake the whole time and I know both of us were scared silly… 

There were the specific people Graeme influenced, one of them being ‘little Al’. Al was a fully fledged Midland bogan complete with standard issue black DB’s, who for some reason ended up at LBC one evening and then hung around for a bit. Graeme saw Al and asked him if he’d like to join the music team and play guitar. To be fair (and I spoke with Al about this today) it was a bit of a roll of the dice… We didn’t know Al and he wasn’t a Christian at this point so who knows where it could have gone.

When we spoke today Al said that someone saw him and gave him a chance – and as a result Al became one of our most valued leaders. He later went on to complete a youth ministry diploma, led a local church youth ministry in Chidlow before meeting a girl and moving to Port Lincoln. In our conversation today he told me that at the age of 51 he has just put his hand up to move back into the youth scene at his local church because they need a hand. Al would say Graeme is a huge part of the reason he is where he is today. Someone saw him, spoke his language and invited him in…

Random – I heard a quote this week about farts. ‘People who don’t laugh at farts are missing out. Because you end up with the same number of farts in your life, but a lot less fun.’ Let’s just Graeme was a lot of fun.

When we moved into Butler to plant a church and experiment with mission in new ways, Graeme and Sharon came and joined us. Mase and I had been doing the reading and thinking around incarnation mission and understanding the context in which we were living. To put it simply, I got the theory but not the practice – I was always on the prowl looking for someone to convert. (Sounds crass when I say it now… but that was where I was at). By contrast Mase simply became friends with people but without an agenda and I know he was much loved by his neighbours. He ‘got it’ and I didn’t in that time. Coming alongside people as a mate was simply his MO every day so he showed up as ‘himself’ rather than as an evangelist. Thanks for the lesson Mase.

There was a time when Graeme and I had some significant relational biffo. As the time in Butler ended for the Masons we were at odds for various reasons and the relationship was in danger of being deposited in the ‘too hard basket’. I can’t remember all of the issues now and I really don’t care… What did happen was we caught up one Saturday afternoon in our lounge room and we put it on the table – do we both want this relationship to continue in our lives from this point on? We both said we did – albeit a little thru gritted teeth. We knew we had something good that had gone bad – but it could be good again – if we made the effort – if we wanted it bad enough.

It was after this the Mason tribe moved to Narrogin and staying in touch became harder. We had dropped the baggage that had come between, us but proximity was an issue – us in Yanchep them in Narrogin – it’s a fair old hike for either of us. In 2019 Danelle and I set off on a 4 week rambling caravan trip to the south west, starting with a couple of days in York. As we looked at the map I said to her ‘hey Narrogin isn’t that far from us here – why don’t we call and see if the Masons are free for a night?’ It’d be fair to say we had all but lost touch at that point, but not the recognition that we both loved each other. Fortunately they had space and time and so we went and hung out for a couple of days and the laughter returned. From that time on we have taken the time to be in one another’s lives and the thought of dropping in to see the Mason tribe is something that always fills me with joy.

A few weeks back with a quiet weekend ahead I said to Danelle, ‘why don’t shoot down to Narrogin for a night?! It will be fun.’ We didn’t end up doing it… One of the hardest parts of Graeme’s death is knowing that we won’t have those moments again – not in this life…

So – if you have read to the end I hope you have a picture of this man who I loved so very much and who I will miss deeply. If you’re one of those people who loved him and you have a story then feel free to drop it in the comments so we can share it.

And pray for his family – you don’t lose a bloke like this and not get battered around…

There is barely a sound to be heard in bone-dry, outback Wilcannia. The piercing heat of the day has finally eased and we have drifted off to sleep. But the buzz of my phone vibrating in the bedside cabinet at 11.37 was enough to wake us both.

‘Probably my dad’ I thought. Lately he has been accidentally calling at odd times… But when I picked it up I saw the name – the wife of one of my close mates. I assumed (but more hoped) it was a pocket call and hung up, not wanting to rouse from sleepiness – maybe just not wanting to believe that anything could be wrong. I figured if it was important she would ring back

Immediately it rang again and even in my half awake state my heart skipped a beat. This is important… I knew something was about to go down.

She never calls me. It’s always him. This can’t be good news. All those thoughts ran across my mind in a split second.

So I answered with a question. ‘Sharon?’ She was sobbing. ‘Andrew I have some terrible news.’

I felt myself brace.’No… What’s happened?’ I asked.

She struggled to speak – just tears.

‘Go on Sharon – tell me…’ I urged her, at the same time wondering what bombshell had dropped on their life that she would feel the need to call me. And I realised that my brain had somehow already reached the conclusion that something had happened to Graeme – otherwise he would have called…

‘Graeme was working today when a roof collapsed on him and…’ she paused, ‘he has passed away.’ She got the sentence out then was again overwhelmed with tears.

‘No… No… Sharon… I am so sorry…’ That was all I had.

I groaned and writhed as I struggled to absorb this news. Graeme was mid 50s and a very skilled jack of all trades running his own building / handyman gig in a small country town. He was loving life and had found a niche that gave him a lot of joy. With three adult children all out of home and living their own lives, things couldn’t have been much better for this family.

Beside me Danelle is also groggy, but trying to listen in, trying to piece the story together. Sharon can’t speak any more, so her son takes over and I open the phone towards Danelle. Thru his own tears he let’s us know that ‘dad was found at the site he was working on. The roof just collapsed on him.’

I see the shock form on her face…

I’m utterly lost for words. I know these calls to friends and family who need to know. I remember those moments. There is nothing you can say to help and the pain just burns in you. 

This is that kind of call…

When I turned 60 I intentionally had a very small gathering of 5 of my close friends – men (and their wives) with whom I had developed significant friendships over many years. I wanted to gather these people and thank them for their presence in my life, but I also wanted to say to them that as we enter the ‘home straight’ I want you in my corner. I want us to be friends to the end. Graeme was one of those men.

I pass the phone to Danelle so she can speak to Sharon. They are long term friends too – sisters – our families have grown up together – worked in youth ministry together, planted churches together, gone on holidays together. They walked with us through our pain in the loss of Sam – a loss they also suffered. And now we must share in their loss. It’s not something we would ever ‘want’ to do – but this is the inevitable cost of friendship and love. Sooner or later grief comes to us all. Cancer, divorce, kids in trouble, all bring deep pain – but sheer, sudden loss is devastation of a different kind. This one has no ‘bright side’, no hope of a better resolution. It’s a sharp, violent and permanent hack that can never be prepared for.

Danelle ends the call and we lie together, hand in hand, bewildered that another life of someone we love has ended way too early.

A restless night ensues as we struggle to get back to sleep. Somehow we now have to imagine a world without Graeme in it. We can’t grasp this. How can his family? We think of his parents who lost their other son in a motorcycle accident around 20 years ago. How do you lose two kids and keep your shit together?

Another person in our life has died too young… 

As we enjoyed Christmas in Newcastle with Danelle’s family I counted 3 who were missing due to early checkouts. One was just 6 weeks old, another a victim of motor neuron disease and then Sam…

Is that normal in a group of 30-40 people? Maybe it is. Maybe death is more common than we realise because we tend to look away when it happens – until it happens to us. I’m told by others that we have had more than our share of misfortune.

I know it sounds a tad morbid to say ‘there are no guarantees of a long life – that we will all get to retire and exit gracefully ‘, but that is the reality. I’m writing this as we drive home across the Nullarbor – conscious that simply a drive of this type, with caravan in tow, being overtaken by idiots desperate to save 3 or 4 minutes, carries an element of risk (as does most of life…)

Either that or we refuse to fully live ‘just in case.’

Who could have forseen a roof collapsing on Graeme as he worked?

As we drive home I pray for our friends Andrew and Simone, who for a second time are the ‘first responders’ to dreadful grief. They met us at the Mandurah Harbour when Sam died. They have dropped everything once again to go and be with this family. If you have to have anyone with you in this time then these two are the people you want. Somehow they are able to just ‘be there’, to listen and to care. But no matter how gifted you are, you are never hoping for these types of events to happen.

I have some other thoughts I’d like to write about Graeme, but they are more of the fond memories kind – not the sort that belong in a lament. And I will save them for another time.

For ever those 5 minutes in Wilcannia will be etched in my mind. Another good man whose life has ended way too soon – and another family navigating the treacherous waters of grief.

Ok – here is my snapshot summary of the books I have either read or listened to since leaving home on Dec 5. These are intentionally short.

Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides – a moderately interesting ’thriller’ with a couple of twists however the writing itself is dull. I stuck with it only because it was reasonably short. 5/10

Demon Copperhead – by Barbara Kingsolver – another audio book, although I did have the advantage of having read it a few years back. Kingsolver is a brilliant writer and every sentence seems to carry meaning and energy. But the real winner in this was the narration. It is cast as a modern day David Copperfield, and set in the Oxy epidemic of rural USA. It’s a hard gritty read – and it’s looong- but so worth it! After the drab prose of the Silent Patient this was like a long cold drink. 10/10

Eden by Mark Brandi – Audio via Spotify – a relatively short story of a man released from prison who is trying to find his way and ends up being recruited for some nefarious activities by his new workmates. He has to choose which way he will jump. The narration is very flat which possibly made this harder going than it needed to be. We gave up on it at the 50% mark and only came back because we were out of mobile signal range and had it downloaded . 5/10

The Hiding Place -by Kate Mildenhall – This one I actually read… the story of 5 families who together purchase an old village complete with pub. The whole story is about their first weekend there where these wholesome, politically correct middle class Australian people discover they are much darker than they are willing to admit. I found the actual events of the weekend a bit difficult to believe – but the point was made that the distinction between ‘good’ people like us and those ‘other nasty’ people may not be as wide as we think. The wrap up to the weekend is punchy and the story has a good ‘message’ if you could call it that. An easy read 7/10

Die with Zero by Bill Perkins – I started this, got half way thru and gave up. I didn’t like his assumption that we should ‘die with zero’ as it seemed to be implying that our goal ought to be that of using all of our earthly wealth to purchase experiences and things that will satisfy us now. It may have a redmptive arc, but it felt a bit like simple hedonism to me. ‘You can’t take it with you so spend it now (on you)’ 4/10

I’ve done a little bit of speaking at Riverview church over the last year and recently I was invited to come in January and share some thoughts as a part of a series called ‘In Every Moment – God is With Us’ – my section being the way in which God is with us in the darkness and the valleys.

Of course it’s a space to speak of how we have encountered and experienced God in the chaos and madness that is deep grief. I’m actually really happy to do this – as hard as it may be – because our experience ‘in the dark’ has been one of God’s presence and comfort as well as of hope. I won’t be doing it alone as I’ve asked Danelle to come and share some of her perspective as well as my old friend Morro with the song he wrote for us when Sam died.

I’ve pulled Danelle in because we have both approached this in very different ways – she is a feeler, and I am thinker so as you can imagine we have needed different means for processing.

As i pondered how to approach this I felt like I’d start with my first step in processing – which I’d call simply ‘being prepared’. Sooner or later life is gonna smack you in the face and if you don’t have an adequate worldview for processing disaster and calamity then you may get brought undone. When I wrote this blog on March 21st 2024, I had no idea Sam was going to die 3 days later. It came out of a conversation I had been having with Sam’s partner, Cosi, about what were the essentials / not negotiables of our faith.

Top of my list was ‘God is good’ and my sixth and final ‘not neg’ stated; ‘my hope is in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.‘ This wasn’t an academic exercise. It was more a reflection on the shape my faith has taken over the years and distillation of my deeply held convictions.

God is good. If you have been part of a church I have led, or been around me for a significant length of time then you’d know that this is absolutely foundational for me. If God isn’t good then we really are screwed… I won’t go into each aspect of my faith, except to say that having stuff nailed down before a storm of this magnitude hits is really valuable. I remember being up in the Pilbara region of WA at a caravan park and seeing these steel tie down points set in the concrete slab on which the caravan sat. The idea simply is that when a storm comes you tie yourself to the anchor points band you will not get destroyed.

1,500 × 1,125

In a context of a life gone awry, having anchor points in place means you aren’t forming up your theology and worldview while under fire and from a place of pain and disorientation. As a ‘thinker’, this framework was valuable for helping me not get lost in depression and disillusionment.

Over the last 21 months I have watched Danelle process all of this in a different way to me. At times she has sat in our bedroom for hours each morning writing, praying, listening and wrestling with God. And she has had a couple of profound experiences which come to those guided more by intuition. I don’t sense I have had to experience the utter rage and gut level wrestle she has endured but when so much of your identity is consumed with being ‘mum’ – and when one of the 2 kids you fought so hard to get (we had a long period of infertility followed by 2 x IVF babies) is gone you must lament. I’m pretty sure what Danelle will share will be some of the very gut level wrestle she has had just to survive this whole experience.

Finally I will share some of my learning around hope. I very rarely gave any thought to the world beyond this one and to the shape it may take. I love life and I love so much of the way our lives have taken shape over the years that it’s been difficult to imagine anything else that could be better. But Sam’s death has taken me into reflecting on our hope of the resurrection and the new creation to come – even to a place of anticipation. Interestingly I looked back on my Spotify top 5 songs for 2025 and 4 of them were reflective of what I have been experiencing. For some reason Passenger’s Sword from the Stone was my no 1 hit in the last year – not related at all to life… but after that there were ‘It is Well (with my soul)’, ‘Goodness of God‘, Some Great Day (by Perth guy Paul Goia) and no 5 was Take it In, by the Waifs.

I find it hard to articulate the almost ‘concreteness’ of the hope I now feel for the next life. It’s as if something that for a long time has been ethereal and indeterminate has come into view – like one of those magic eye pics where you feel like you’re looking at something fairly random – until it all comes into focus then you are able to see a dimension you knew was there but was beyond your view. So now when I contemplate the eternal and the new creation it’s as if those random shapes instantly shift back into position to create a beautiful picture. And yes – it’s hopeful – beautifully, wonderfully hopeful!

So yes – we will speak of these things – these gut wrenching, heart crushing experiences that in some way seem to have helped shape and formed who we are now as we have walked the path with our father God. Not bitter – not angry – always deeply sad – but moreso hopeful and anticipating the kingdom to come

‘I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.’

Sounds kinda dark…

But also kinda hopeful if you listen in a different way…

Jesus’ words speak of the wine being shared at Passover that he won’t get to share again with his disciples in this current life. He is acknowledging that his death will put an end to some things, but contained in that statement is also a focus on the future when they will once again share in a joyful celebration.

Hope is a curious phenomenon and one I have spent a fair bit of time reflecting on lately. Over the last year or so I have been conscious of hope rising in me – not in a wishful thinking ‘What Dreams May Come’ (movie) kind of way, but more in a ‘wow… this is beautiful’ way.

Only last week I was surfing in the little southern NSW town of Pambula and enjoying some fun waves on my own, when I thought – such a shame I can’t do this with Sam, and then, snap – like a reflex I had a second thought ‘but I will surf these waves with Sam again one day in the future kingdom.’ It changed the tone of the moment completely.

And I sense that will be reality. Not that the new creation will be an endless summer of perfect waves, but rather that the things we loved and valued from this life will carry over. It only makes sense that in the resurrection we will eat, drink and surf…

Some days life without Sam is brutal and confronting, while other days I can meet it with the knowledge that this life is not forever and one day there will be a reconnection – one that I don’t understand – but also one that forms and shapes hope in me. Maybe my imagination is getting the better of me, and I am creating reality as I would like it to be, or maybe (I am choosing to believe) as this journey goes on I’m having an ongoing experience of revelation that would never have been possible had Sam been present. 

And while I’d take his presence any day over his absence, I’m also enjoying the musing and reflecting on what the resurrection life might be like.

If I were gonna finish with an Aramaic phrase the obvious one is ‘maranatha’, (even so come Lord Jesus) but preferring our own Aussie idioms, I will simply say ‘bring it on!’

Until it doesn’t…

A second trend I observe is a whole lot of people wanting to know for sure that their theology is right on point or that their tribe has the bottom line on the truth. So… if you want to grow a church preach & cultivate certainty.

Whether it is your commitment to a specific brand of theology, or a passionate conviction that your causer / expression of worship/faith is the right way, most people during their life are looking for clarity and certainty – at least for a time.

Certainty is attractive in that it eliminates the fear of being wrong. “My pastor knows the Bible like no one else and teaches it faithfully!” That’s great… kind of… It’s good while he or she is keeping to the core stuff, but simple, dogmatic certainty on contentious or complicated issues is sooner or later going to come undone.

Perhaps a good example of this is eschatology. There are people out there who are absolutely convinced that they have the read on Revelation like no one else does. While I believe we can hold opinions on this stuff and possibly even convictions, I worry about those who simply can’t humbly acknowledge that many, many well educated people disagree with them. I have never preached thru the book of Revelation in 35 years of pastoring. I began to open it up a few years back, but realised that I was going to have to explain the various positions people had arrived at and then let them know that I didn’t have a hard theology on this stuff. It got messy real fast. I remember watching a Youtube video of 3 academics debating their opposing positions and simply thinking, ‘if these guys all disagree – and they are smarter than me – then what makes me think I make better sense of this text?’ I left it for another time…

As a year 12 school student studying poetry and observing the many ways a poem could be interpreted, I went to my pastor at the time and asked if the Bible was like that. Can we all read the same text, arrive at different conclusions and then all be ‘right’. He told me clearly that the Bible was not like that and there was one correct way of interpreting everything. I liked his confidence so I decided to throw my hand in with him and it formed me into something of a zealot for a time – that’s what happens when you are young and convinced you have a corner on truth. By the time I was 20 I had nailed down every scrappy corner of theology and I was your man if you wanted answers to difficult theological questions because I had asked them and got the answers from my omniscient pastor.

However I think he fed some bad advice that day. Maybe it was after church, he was hungry and just wanted to go home, but I wish he had said something like ‘well Andrew – that’s a good question – and its a little more complex than simple ‘right’ and ‘wrong.’ Why don’t we explore that idea another time – and let me know what you think…’

Had he pushed me to think and had he sent me away curious, I sense I would benefited far more, but I was young and willing to take him at his word. For every verse there is a correct (and therefore incorrect) way of reading it. Nice. That works at 17. It works less at 27, much less at 37 and at 61 it feels absurd.

Unfortunately, a lot of faith is not crystal clear and is not certain. A lot of what it means to be a follower of Jesus is at times ambiguous and contextual. Dogmatic faith statements are wonderful for giving people confidence, but they don’t give room for the inevitable mystery and complexity. My hunch is that in times such as we are in at the moment which are tense and difficult, the churches that appeal to certainty and that offer clarity will be more popular with the masses than those who walk a middle ground and embrace complexity.

I heard recently of a fundamentalist church in our region that is growing rapidly. And it made me wonder… WHY?… When the King James Bible is your sword of choice and there is no room in the Christian gospel for social action, it already tells a tale. I grew up in one of these and much of my adult life has been a conscious decision to try and form churches that welcome thinking and disagreement. In this church you can disagree – but you’d be wrong…

I see people gravitating more readily to either the large, inspiring and often politically right leaning pentecostal churches as well as the articulate and well thought out reformed type churches where the Sunday diet can at times feel like a class in systematic theology. There is tribal energy in the former and intellectual cred in the latter. While I am not in the reformed camp I take time to tune in to some of their podcasts from time to time and there are a few speakers who do an excellent job of unfolding scripture and theology in a way that appeals to more rational thinking types. For some folks, having their theological ducks in a row is very comforting so this kind of church will warm their cockles.

However my observation is that churches that choose the middle line or that choose to even allow for ambiguities do not seem to grow at the same rate. When churches consciously allow for ambiguity and mystery they are appealing to a smaller segment of the church going population. To use Fowler’s stages of faith as a guide, the more rapidly growing churches appeal to levels 2-3 where there is conformity and aquiescence to the church line on theology, politics or behaviour. Whereas the less defined churches invite those who have entered deconstruction, or have recovered from deconstruction to come and be welcome – to not know the answers, to challenge the party line on what constitutes Christian behaviour, and to express reservations that any political group could possibly embrace all of what Jesus is on about.

I don’t think I could ever pastor in a church that was too sure of itself. Part of my own make-up is questioning the status quo, so I imagine I would be a stone in the shoe of those who just want to get on with the next big thing, or with nailing atonement theory, or some other complicated aspect of doctrine.

I have also been interested in the journey of some older leaders and theologians into the higher more liturgical expressions of worship. I am aware of some folks who grew up Baptist, Charismatic etc, but who now find themselves committed to their local Anglican church where the focus is the weekly eucharist and the worship & teaching are of lesser importance.

So that’s an observation – but again – it comes from the distant sideline. I’d be interested to know if anyone else sees similar patterns taking shape.

I was in conversation with a mate this morning who asked me about trends in the church in WA, his old stomping ground. He used to be a pastor, but found the demands overwhelming mentally and emotionally.

I observe two trends (admittedly from my fairly sideline position these days) so this will be a two post reflection.

My first observation is the absence of younger pastors coming through who are excited and enthused to either lead or plant churches. Maybe it’s just my tribe – the conservative evangelicals – who are waning, but I genuinely lament the lack of up and coming men and women who are going to lead the church into the future. When I say younger I mean under 35 – people who have not yet ‘peaked’ and who are bristling with the optimism of youth.

Unfortunately – that optimism inevitably gets pulled down a peg or two once they encounter the realities of ministry. And yes – sure – there is also a naivety that accompanies young pastors and church planters – a belief that they have the answers and will ‘sort things out’. But that’s ok – really it is. Those of us who are older can roll with that and help channel that energy into good things. As someone once said ‘you can’t teach passion’, but you can channel it. And while a healthy dose of reality is always valuable, too many younger leaders are observing the toll ministry takes on pastors as well as the demands of compliance and administration and they are baulking – questioning whether that is a path they would ever want to walk down. It’s a lot of weight to carry for at best around $100K…( Hey you could drive a truck on a mine for half a year and make $180K…If that’s what teachers, nurses and police are hearing what makes us think pastors aren’t also ‘considering their options?’)

Interestingly I have also very recently spoken to 3 ex pastors recently who have told me there is no way they’d go back to pastoring and I know plenty of others who feel the same. Maybe that is a trend too. Pastors exiting as soon as is practicable – or financially sustainable – with no intention of returning.

Personally, I have been asked if my days of leading a church are over and my simple, honest response is firstly, ‘I don’t know’ and secondly that is not just my decision. Choices of that magnitude are always a two person decision because whatever I do impacts Danelle. Pastoring isn’t a job you do then go home. It’s a life you lead amongst a community of people – and you can’t do that solo. I can’t imagine how you would lead and live among a group of people apart from your spouse.

And – to be fair most of my experience of pastoring has been positive. There were difficult times in each role I operated in. In the early days some of it was down to my enneagram 8 directness creating tension in relationships, but there was also plenty of conflict resolution( or lack of) that took it’s toll, as well as the emergence of red tape and risk management stuff. It was this bureaucracy that led me to the brink many times. But the joy of leading a community and sharing in the work God was doing was always more compelling than work that wasn’t as directly connected to spiritual formation.

Perhaps it was just the era I grew up in, where if you heard (or thought you heard) the call of God you simply dropped everything and moved towards that calling. There was an element of sacrifice being normal and for ministry to ‘cost’ and frankly I think that is ok.

I do fear the pendulum has swung too far in the opposite direction now where potential pastors don’t want to take on anything that will potentially put a strain on marriage or family, or would disadvantage them financially. Again, there is some wisdom in that as I mentioned earlier – we never make solo decisions – but I also see that hese issues will happen in any job and… if Jesus calls the answer is always ‘yes’ and we can figure out the details later.

So is that a trend – a disinclination towards working in pastoral leadership both among up and coming potential leaders and a reticence in those who are older to re-enter the fray?

Ok this is purely a PSA for anyone else who happens to back into things and smash their tail-lights!

I smashed the first one two years ago – not badly – just a small piece of the glass missing. I could live with it and barely noticed it. Then a year ago I jack-knifed the caravan and did the other one – a bigger piece missing, but all still functional.

With 75k on the clock I was feeling it is getting close to trade in time, so I figured I’d fix the lights up. I already knew a genuine light assembly was around $1350/side so I wasn’t keen to go that route. To claim insurance was gonna be $700 excess per claim (separate incidents) so I figured I’d hunt until i found some online – which I did at eBay for around $150 each.

So I removed the old ones, installed the new ones and felt like I’d had a real win! $300 instead of $2700. But… then the blind spot radar, cross traffic indicator and rear camera all started flicking up fault codes.

With it due to go in for a service I just figured I’d ask the guys at Ford to check it out and clear them.

So I dropped it in, picked it up and it was still flashing like a Christmas tree – the apprentice doing the $400 oil change on my car didn’t think to attend to the codes… So I had to come back, but with the promise it would be attended to immediately and while I wait.

I dropped the car, took off for an hour and then came back – to see the car still sitting where I’d left it… Hmmm not good… I ‘expressed my disappointment’ at the time wasted and got it looked at straight away.

The verdict was that both rear radar sensors were gone and they would need replacing – but the guys at Ford didn’t want to do the job as they old replace whole assemblies. Really?… And then the radar units were $400 each…

So this is starting to become less of a win and more of a pain in the arse!

With a fairly open day I cruised down to Osborne Park to a mob called Adas who specialise in the recalibration of these units. (Up until now I hadn’t realised they needed recalibration.) They spent a couple of hours on the car but couldn’t get the left radar to function. The conclusion was that it had probably got water in it because of how long I had left it exposed. Oh and the wiring harness also needed replacing due to corrosion. I left there and drove home thru traffic frustrated at a day spent ‘waiting’ and then to no avail.

Today I was to pick up the radar and the harness return to Os Park and let them fit and calibrate. So I picked up the radar ($400 – but then Ford had told me I needed both…) and the harness which I was guessing would be a ridiculous $70 or $80 turned out to be $200… ouch!

I dropped the car back at Adas and took off as they felt they may need it overnight. No worries – what’s another trip to Ossie Park from Yanchep! Turns out they got it fixed the same day, all for the sum of $1137 – which covered scan. fault finding, and a couple of calibrations. It was about twice as much as i was expecting, but to be fair, these guys were brilliant. Fast service, squeezed me in and knew what they were doing. I’d recommend them to anyone – but they aren’t cheap. (Lucrative business opp for someone I am thinking…)

I drove home realising the whole exercise had cost me about $2000… and a couple of days of wasted time.

In hindsight an insurance claim should have been the way to go, but then i wasn’t aware of the need for recalibrations and the dodgy parts.

While the $2k end result wasn’t what I expected a little bit of research, pulled up another owner who had spent $1300 on the light and then needed 3 hours of labour by Ford at their workshop rates to calibrate and fit… Makes your butt cheeks clench just contemplating it!

So if you have backed into your caravan or a lamp-post and damaged your rear tail light my tip is claim it on insurance and do it quickly so the internals don’t corrode, otherwise they may not be covered under the claim.

As you were.

Best thing we have ever done as a family?

It would have to be the big lap of Oz back in 2009 when the kids were 6 & 8 and we were in between church gigs. I hear lots of people thinking about doing something like this, others putting it on their retirement list (which of course, assumes you live that long) while others feel its just too complicated to pull off. No doubt that is true for some.

Every time I hear the Waifs song, ‘Take it In’, it takes me back to Cable Beach where we strolled, enjoyed amazing sunsets and played in warm water. One line in the song says ‘this is a time that will not come again…’ and I remember back then actually thinking savour this time because it is precious, so very precious. It will never come again. Your kids will never be that age. You will never be able to do the things you can do today. It will not get cheaper and easier…

If you’re a family pondering whether you can pull it off then chances are you can… if you arrange your life in such a way as to make it a possibility. Yeah it would probably mean long service leave, or even just resigning and taking a leap into the unknown.

Perhaps you wonder why bother with something like this? What’s the big attraction? Well, part of it is simply doing something that is a little risky and against the grain – although it’s becoming much more common as influencers try to make money along the way (not as easy as it looks by the way!) Most of it is the memories you get to create as a family – as well as the way it can shape and form a family. And then there’s the raw experience itself of seeing a place like Oz. We have a fantastic country and there is so much to be amazed by.

My original plan was to buy a big bus / motorhome and drive that around – but along the way common sense (Danelle) prevailed and we settled on a 1996 Nissan Patrol (with an intermittent air con issue that we never were able to fix) and a 2003 Jayco Eagle. Yeah – the 4 of us spent 6 months in a pop up camper van! I think about it now and it seems ridiculous. Our Jayco Silverline ‘mum and dad’ van is like a hotel room on wheels, while the Eagle was more like an overcrowded cubby house with canvas for walls.

While I would encourage every family to do something of this ilk, I’m less a fan of being ‘full time on the road’ as people say. It sounds exciting and fun, but I would fear for the lack of substantial relationships we would all have, for the impact of living what may be seen as a completely self indulgent and selfish life and of the lack of purpose that would accompany this type of life. I’m a firm believer in the importance of significant relationships – and these don’t happen when we are flitting from town to town. I’m also a believer in being ‘rooted’ somewhere and the lack of roots could potentially lead to a sense of isolation and un-belonging – anywhere. Some may argue that the traveller life means you belong everywhere, but I’m not convinced.

And while the laughs we had and the memories we shared were invaluable, I hope (and believe) that it also taught our children that you don’t have to fit in and do what everyone else is doing. You can drop everything for a time and hit the road. When Ellie took off to NZ on her own at 19 I was proud – and I wonder if the earlier experience of our family travelling may have helped her take that risk. Before he died, Sam had made a couple of Troopie trips to the North West with Cosi and I could easily have imagined them ‘on the road’ with their kids for a good slab of time. Sadly, not to be.

When I think of ‘before and after’ (sliding door) type moments then our decision to travel was definitely one for our family. For ever after the very first thing that got slotted into the year ahead were holidays – we had even negotiated 6 weeks annual leave with Quinns Baptist rather than the usual 4 – because we just didn’t think 4 was enough…

That trip was a fabulous time and it sits in my memory as my favourite experience the 4 of us had together – closely followed by our time in Ireland, but it wasn’t all roses. The church had been in a time of difficult conflict before we left and there was a vote in July to either keep us as pastors or vote us out. In a church of 32 members it only took 8 to see us sent packing. I clearly remember getting the message while we were walking the Strand in Townsville. On one hand we felt disappointed and even moreso for the people trying to bring some freshness to the church. On the other hand it had been so ugly that I wasn’t sad to be free of the burden.

It was also around that time that we had joined the dots on our ‘investment’ that we had hoped was going to fund the trip. We had put $250K into a joint venture project with an expected return of 40% – it was just before the GFC and very doable. However then came the GFC… Our project manager illegally borrowed money from our project to prop up his other failing projects, however when they fell over the whole thing came down in a heap and we kissed $250k goodbye. We had never been big money earners so that was a massive hit Having paid off the mortgage with a fluke investment, we were now back in that space with a loan bigger than we had ever had and with only a fledgling retic business to pay the bills. I would lie awake at night wondering how I would ever pay that loan off… I would tell myself ‘No one has died. No one is going to die. It’s just money.‘ We discussed packing up and heading home to get stuck into work and clear the debt, but we made a firm decision to stay the course, enjoy the time we had and figure the rest out when we landed back in Perth That was a good decision. There would have been nothing gained by coming home – and 2-3 months of wonderful memories would have been lost.

So if you’re pondering and even hankering to take off and do something like this, then just do it… Just make a plan, hit the road and live life in a whole different way for a period. It will enrich your family life and it may set a culture in your family – a love for adventure and exploration. It won’t all go to plan but you will come home changed and your family life will be richer for it!

A blood test… two actually – and at different pathology labs… ugh…

But it was Friday and my workload was light, so I figured I might as well go sit in line and stare at my phone for a while until the nurse could stick a needle in my arm.

I arrived with 25 minutes left on the clock – they were closing at 1pm – and there was one person in front of me. That person was in and out in less than 3 minutes, but I wasn’t sure the phlebotomist had seen me there, so I went up to stick my head in.

‘Just checking if you have time for one more?…’ I said gently.

Without looking up she told me to go and wait and I’d be called shortly.

‘Ok – sorry…’ I said, ‘wasn’t sure if you had seen me.’

Not a warm reception at all I mused. I felt like a spanked child. Wonder what’s got into her today?

A minute later she called me in. We brusquely moved thru the paperwork while I confirmed that I really was who I said I was. She didn’t look at me once and it felt like a heavily strained interaction. Sometimes you can tell when someone is on the edge and I surmised that for some reason this woman was holding it together with string and duct tape – and the string was almost worn thru…

I didn’t want to pry into her day so I just smiled and answered her questions. Once the paperwork was done she went to gather her needles and collection tubes into the little grey, kidney shaped dish they all seem to have.

The she looked at me, took a breath and said ‘It’s been hell today.’

The needle penetrated my arm. But her words also penetrated. She certainly looked like someone who had been thru hell and now she had told me about it. So the choice now is to ask further or just smile and nod (none of my business really).

‘Oh really?’ It seemed the best ‘ambiguous’ response. I wasn’t sure whether to ask exactly what ‘hell’ looked like.

‘I called my boss in tears and resigned’, she said. That took me back. I had never met Jenny before but it was obvious she was no beginner at this stuff. She was mid 50’s looked and sounded like she was a strong, no nonsense kind of woman. But she was now telling me she was on the phone resigning – in tears.

‘Can I swear?’ she asks. Then before I can consent she simply speaks the words ‘F–k, f–k, f–k…!’

‘That good hey?… So what did happen today then?’ I asked. She didn’t look someone who would easily drop her guard with a complete stranger. She had that professional nurse air about her that wanted to keep to the job at hand, but she was clearly reeling and she had opened the door and invited me in.

So she began to tell me the story of being in a very busy centre as the only person on deck, meaning people have to wait in line – and some people don’t like to wait and instead get nasty and angry and abusive. And some people think blood tests are always a 5 minute thing, but sometimes she has to make phone calls, complete forms, check information and the slots get longer and the waiting customers get gnarlier and gnarlier… She took a breath. All this while blood is draining from my left arm.

‘It was actually only one person who was terrible,’ she clarifies.

‘One’s enough sometimes.’ I said.

It was about here that I had ‘a moment’ where I realised I could get her to ‘wind up the whinging and just take my blood‘, or I could pause, lean in a little and allow her to talk. It actually became a conscious moment of decision – because I too had other things to do too – like lunch. I was on the verge of ‘hangry’.Not pretty.

It literally was only a few minutes of listening and asking a few more questions as Jenny unwound her day and her frustrations with the lack of staff. She was angry at being mistreated – and fairly so. Those ‘please treat our staff with courtesy and respect’ signs we now see in various offices are there for a reason. She felt taken advantage of, being slotted into a very busy room with only her on deck. Andshe didn’t really want to resign – but had just had enough that day.

As she talked she was completing the forms, and trying to get a little piece of cotton wool back on the needle hole in my arm. And as she did I was conscious too that the room was feeling lighter – that her countenance had shifted and that we were both smiling.

I’m not always attuned to these moments – in fact I’d imagine more go thru to the keeper than I will ever know – but it was just a reminder today of how easy it is to simply be a decent human being to someone who has been on the rough end of the stick all day.

People sometimes ask how we ‘sense God’ in our everyday lives and I imagine moments like these are there often, if we are able to live at a pace where the call to interact can get past the busy thoughts, or hangry feelings that so often occupy our brains.

I hesitate to share this as I don’t want to make myself sound more attuned to God than I really am – because truth be told it’s not my sweet spot. But this was just one of those moments where the Spirit got my attention and I was able to take a breath and listen – just for a few minutes. It was quite beautiful.