sustain:if:able kiwi

21st Century Theological training – vision radio interview

My radio interview on 20twenty – Life, culture & current events from a Biblical perspective is available here.

Adelaide College of Divinity have introduced some innovative 21st century concepts including study tours and Blended Learning.

Host: Neil Johnson
Guest: Steve Taylor – Principal Uniting College (part of ACD)

I talk about the value of ecumenism in education in a pluralist world and about 3 waves of distance as it impacts upon theological education

• distance as written
• distance by broadcast
• distance by blended learning

I also talk about flipped learning and the rationale for beyond the classroom study tour experiences – those who learn by watching. I finish by reflecting on the imperative of mission in theological education, including the places we go and the books we read if our God is a global God.

“Steve Taylor, you are an inspiration” concludes the radio announcer, Neil Johnson.

sustainable Sundays

Today we built a solar oven. A few hours at a local community centre, with some cardboard, aluminium foil and glue.

It’s meant to be able to cook pretty much anything, simply using the heat of the sun – casseroles, corn on the cob, potatoes, cup cakes, bread, eggs. It takes a few hours to cook. Which was part of the pleasure and promise, the hint of a different pace of life, a more sustainable Sunday.

It was too wet outside to try but here’s a video of how it’s meant to work. (Although being a vegetarian I’ll be trying something different)

offspring has sprung

My time with the Presbyterian church at Offspring is over. Very rich. But very intense.

Lots of personal encouragements – seeing former students and Christchurch pastoral colleagues – realising my Out of Bounds Church? book has born fruit – some fascinating interaction on mission, fresh expressions, pioneering, leadership and sustainability.

My input sessions seemed to go well – it was great to be telling NZ mission history stories alongside some Australian mission history stories I’ve picked up in my travels – to be able to bring indigenous gifts from Australia across the Tasman.

The highlight was hearing the stories of four Kiwi pioneer ventures, and realising afresh that God is still up to lots, albiet in fresh ways, in New Zealand. I’d love to write up some of these reflections and missiology I see emerging.

But not now.

First a precious 24 hours to pop back to Christchurch and see Mum, and together continue to process the loss of Dad. Nothing like Mum’s mock white-bait fritters.

praying our goodbyes: a book soaked in memories

Some books are soaked in memories. I pulled Joyce Rupp’s Praying Our Goodbyes off the book shelf yesterday. It offers a range of ways to grieve. This includes a selection of rituals for different situations that life deals us – terminating a relationship, feeling betrayed, farewell, living with constant pain. And for each, some Scripture, some prayer, some action.

The book has been so well used that as I opened it the pages fell out. I held them, remembering the times I’d used it – our struggles with infertility, twice in 9 months being turned down for a job I thought would be ideal, the pastoral transition away from a loved church family, some difficult work situations. And how different those situations seem now, 5 and 10 years later. Felt the pain, still. Yet realised, almost laughed in delight, at the different trajectories now in play.

And reflecting on the truthfulness of these words from Joyce

for the Christian, hello always follows goodbye in some form if we allow it. There is, or can be, new life, although it will be different from the life we knew before. The resurrection of Jesus and the promises of God are too strong to have it any other way. (Joyce Rupp Praying Our Goodbyes, 15)

Dad’s death and Christian approaches to suffering

Thursday was my first time back leading the Uniting College team meeting since Dad’s funeral. I decided to share some of what I’ve been thinking and feeling and reading since his death. This had a number of potential dangers. First, the risk of being simply self-therapy. Second, that others in the team have also recently suffered loss, so an uncertainty how my story might connect with their story. At the same time, this is the team that have supported me in prayer and love (cards and calls and care, including gathering to lit a candle as prayer on the day I flew to New Zealand) and a team what is seeking to grow deeper with each other in all of life.

I began by sharing a number of photos that might help capture for the team some of my experience of the funeral. It is wierd when you bury your Dad in a different country, and so I live between two worlds, one of which does not know my dad, nor was able to be with me as the funeral happened.

First, my mums fingers around dad’s ring has he died. That sense of faithful love over so many years.

Second, building our own coffin for Dad, some building, some drilling, some decorating.

Third, the invitation at the funeral to sign the coffin, allowing individual engagement with the reality of Dad’s death.

And then some theological reflection. A few words from a poem, on the importance of pain in the forming of faith

“We must feel
The pulse in the wound
To believe.” Denise Levertov, On belief in the Physical Resurrection of Jesus.

And some words from Justin of Norwich, in which pain and suffering are asked for, as a way of loving God. It is a spirituality so counter to so much of contemporary Western culture, in which we are so keen to live young endlessly.

“And it suddenly occurred to me that I should entreat our Lord graciously to give me the second wound [ ], so that he would fill my whole body with remembrance of the feeling of his blessed Passion, as I had prayed before; for I wanted his pains to be my pains, with compassion, and then longing for God … I want to suffer with him, while living in my mortal body, as God would give me grace.” (Julian of Norwich, RDL, 3)

It led to a rich discussion, a story about the richness for a community when suffering was faced, tears for those we love who continue to suffer, a reminder of the positive impact of suffering on our character formation.

(Both readings from the chapter on Julian Norwich in Disability in the Christian Tradition: A Reader)

Eulogy for John Cuthbert Taylor

My task, my privilege, on behalf of the family is to reflect on John Cuthbert Taylor – as husband, dad, father-in-law, granddad.

For the three Taylor sons, our childhood is defined by Dad and our Dad is defined by PNG.

Holidays using coconut palm leaves as a toboggan to fly into Lake Murray,
the family fondue and games nights – playing Careers,
the three hour church services in Gogodala,
the standards of behaviour expected at the three hour church services from the three sons of the foreign missionary.

All of us as sons were raised in PNG and it’s only in hindsight that one can begin to appreciate the way it shaped us. The values it instilled across cultures. And the costs, for Dad and for us.

For the grandchildren, Grandad meant Wethers Original lollies from his special tin. His smile of welcome. His genuine interest in their lives. And wheel chair rides.

For Mum, Cuth Taylor meant 53 years of companionship. A shared sense of call. Mutual support. In health, and more recently, in sickness

I still remember the phone call from Dad with the news that he’d been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I remember him struggling emotionally to share the news of this disease that was attacking his nervous system. For which there is no known cure. (As yet)

Dad was in his late 50s when he was diagnosed. It would’ve been easy to respond with anger, self-absorbed bitterness. Instead I watched as Dad used those years to grow. To find new ways to contribute – through prayer, in care. I’ve watched him go through the Opawa Baptist church phone directory, person by person. Realising that he was keeping better track of newcomers than most people in the church.

Not that dad was perfect. He could withdraw from conflict. He could hide his emotions. He could work too hard. Not that anyone’s perfect.

Last year for Fathers Day I gave dad a memory book. A series of questions – favourite childhood holiday, his first job – that might help capture his memories before they became lost in the confusion that is Alzheimers.

One question asks – What are the proudest moments of your life. Dad wrote of his first century in cricket. Getting married – to you Mum. Birth of his sons – Chris, Dave and even me. And how he coped with MS.

At first glance it’s an unusual thing to be proud of. But this is what he wrote:

“God’s goodness to me and my growth in Him since my MS was diagnosed. I used to .. ask God why he allowed old people to get sick. But I now know the answer – are we still prepared to trust God even when we are sick. Yes I am!!”

John Cuthbert Taylor – husband, dad, father-in-law, granddad. Remembered by us, admired by us, loved by us – for his character.

tomorrow we’ll build a coffin

My Dad died yesterday, peacefully, surrounded by some close family. After many years of battling debilitating illness, it was a relief to have a passing so swift and peaceful.

Today we met with the funeral director and after a fairly intense planning suggestion, a slightly light-hearted question was asked.

Do we have to purchase a brought coffin?

No came the answer.

And with increasing energy, we began to explore the possibilities of building, then decorating, our own. It would be a group project while we wait for the funeral. It would be an act of love. It would help us process our emotions. It would connect us, personally, with what is happening. It would allow different family groups – some builders, some decorators, some cup of tea makers, to be at work.

We each do our little bit.

Saturday update: Friday night the plan was made, with a bit of help from the internet. Saturday morning we confirmed the plan and brought the pine. Saturday afternoon we built the base, sides, handles and lid. The grandkids did lots of the drilling, while the adults supervised and guided. A really rich time of participation and learning.

Saturday evening update: And now, in the evening, after dinner, a blonde wood stain. It has brought out the pine wood, offered some sense of a proper finish, and laid the foundation for the decorator crew on Sunday. A different group of participants were involved in this painting phase, folk who felt they could contribute via paint, more than hammer and drill.

Sunday evening: With the coffin built, today became a day of decoration. Each person found a spot around the sides – a panel for each family. Some used words, others song lyrics, others stencils, beads or lolly wrappers. Across the generations words of love and memory were inscribed. The coffin is now individualised, made with love, decorated with care. The lid has been kept free and before the funeral, participants will be invited to add their words of memory. It has been a rich, full weekend. The activity has created memories and given us something to storytell together, as we seek to find new ways to relate and connect as a family.

Monday morning: So the funeral director returned to take away the coffin. She seemed genuinely impressed, moved by the heartfelt decorations on the side and the extensive number of screws used to hold down the lid.

It felt good to help her load the coffin into the hearse.

And then to close the boot and realise that I’d personally been able to be part of making what would carry Dad for his final physical journey, first to the church tomorrow and finally into cremation.

We built that. For Dad

(The problems were to emerge later that day. Our coffin handles were great for multiple hands to hold, but not good for sliding into the crematorium chamber. Thankfully, the funeral directors took the initiative and added some sheeting on the bottom, to allow for a smoother roll.)

Tuesday at the funeral: As hoped, a handmade coffin, already decorated, proved a big of a magnet. The service was from 3:30pm, with refreshments and fellowship from 2 pm. This included the invitation for folk to sign the coffin and/or leave a message. It was wonderful seeing folk gathered around the coffin, reading, talking, interacting, messaging. It allowed another layer of storytelling and helped people connect with the reality of Dad’s death.

We made a backup plan. If we’re not successful by Monday, we can go back to the catalogue. Which gives us two days to see what we can produce.

5 cities in 4 climes

It was a bit of a major headturner trying to pack last night – packing for the frost of Christchurch, followed by the showers of Auckland, then the tropics of Cairns; thinking about what to wear to visit my parents, speak at a conference, lounge on a beach, attend national Uniting Church meetings.

Here’s the upcoming schedule.

• Friday 28 June – fly today from Adelaide to Christchurch. While in Sydney, I catch up with my supervisor, who will put me through me leadership paces and find some area we agree I need to grow in
• Saturday 29 June – morning with my parents in Christchurch, catching up after being away for too long!
• Sunday 30 June – presenting an academic paper – Ecclesiology and ethnography downunder – at ANZATS (Australia New Zealand Association of Theological Studies), being held this year at Laidlaw College, Auckland
• Wednesday 3 July – with the conference over, and after a Tuesday catching up with good friends, flying to Cairns for a week of family holiday
• Wednesday 10 July – fly to Brisbane, first do the theme parks on Gold Coast, then to enjoy more family time, including with extended family, on the Sunshine Coast
• Sunday 15 July – fly to Sydney, first for a one day consultation on the impact of multi-cultural identities on leadership formation, followed by annual national Ministry Education Meetings
• Wednesday 18 July – return to Adelaide

All in all, a major exercise in moving between various contexts. It also means I’m not at all sure how much blogging there will be in the next few weeks.

a three-peat publication day

Three things I’ve written, for three totally different sources, all arrived today, all in final published form.

• “Starting Old: A re-resurrection,” an article in Australian Leadership 5, 5 (February/March 2013), 15-17. (Subscription to e-version of available here)

• “U2,” Don’t Stop Believin’: Pop Culture and Religion from Ben-hur to Zombies, a short entry in a publication edited by Craig Detweiler, Robert K. Johnston and Barry Taylor, Westminster John Knox Press, 2012, 125-127.

• “Baptist Worship and Contemporary Culture: A New Zealand Case Study,” a chapter in Interfaces: Baptists and Others, edited by David Bebbington and Martin Sutherland, Paternoster, 2013, 292-307. (Available here)

I will try and blog more on each over the next week. But in brief “Starting Old: A re-resurrection,” was a commissioned piece on what I’d learned about change and leadership after 6 years spent in renewing an established church. “Baptist Worship and Contemporary Culture: A New Zealand Case Study,” offers a theology of gospel and culture for the emerging church. “U2” is a short piece for a dictionary of popular culture.

When you’re in the midst of writing, having something arrive all finished is a great motivation. But having three things is, well, almost intoxicating.

But also sobering. It makes real the length and detours of the writing process. One of the pieces began life as part of a chapter in my PhD in 2004, was delivered at a conference in 2009 and submitted that same year. That’s a long incubation.

Enough distraction. Back to the writing Steve Taylor.

Home 11 years ago

This was home 11 and a half years ago. For three months we lived here. Being in Aberdeen today brought back lots of really, really good memories. I was working on my Phd, we were planting Graceway in Auckland, the kids had not yet started school.

From here we welcomed our parents, we visited Ireland, we explored Aberdeen and parts of the UK, we visited lots of UK alt.worship groups. Our youngest learnt to walk in this three month period. The Kiwi dollar was at an all time low against the pound and we ate lots of 9 pence tins of tomatoes from Lidl supermarket.

It’s a strange, yet rich blessing, to revisit a place that was home on the other side of a world.

euro-bound

Tomorrow, 26th December, we Eurostar across the Channel. Time for our Euro experience. Tee hee.

It’s been a busy first two weeks of sabbatical. I’ve had two cracks at writing a publisher proposal. One got the thumbs down, “needs more effort” from a helpful colleague. The second, shaped by the helpful conversation emerging from the first, got a much more encouraging response. So with a greater sense of clarity, of both the big picture and some stepping stones, I’ve now started to work on a couple of sample chapters. It’s been a profitable beginning to the sabbatical.

A surprise is to realise how quickly and completely I’ve forgotten about the Principal pressures. Being sucked into a book proposal in my largest study ever in another country, in another hemisphere, has been a very good way to find some space, mental and spiritual.

But now it’s time to pause, to holiday. Not this year in a Southern Hemisphere of beaches, baches, barbeques and books. Rather a Northern Hemisphere of art galleries, museums and cathedrals.Three weeks to absorb, across Belgium, Germany and France. Looking forward to stepping away, not just from being Principal, but from being sabbatical writer.

homeward bound

I’m back home, Aotearoa New Zealand home, for a few days.

It’s my mum’s 70th birthday and I’m looking forward to that and to family time.

It’s just on 3 months since I became Principal and I’m looking forward to a break from that, to reflect, as my supervisor suggested, on the first lap, and how sustainable (not) the pace of life is.

It’s “home, land and sea”

– and I’m really looking forward to that.

the writing hut project

Father and daughter have been working in recent months on the writing hut project. A spot, outside, for daughter to create and re-create. A space, inward, in which two humans can tend to relationship through a shared a task. Yesterday it took a highly colourful step forward.

Amazing what a difference, in mood and tone, colour can make.

the melbourne mission

I’m in Melbourne for the weekend, speaking on mission to a church camp for Manningham Uniting. The family are flying with me and when I’m not speaking, we’ll be enjoying the sights, sounds and shops of Melbourne.

I’ve been asked to engage with their governance group on Friday evening, do 3 interactive sessions with the whole church on Saturday, then preach on Sunday. It’s something I find myself doing more and more here in Australia – speaking at church camps about mission – I’ve got another two before the years out. A camp about mission. Is this a trend? Or something more Australian than Kiwi?