Writing a blurb about yourself

Every now and again I have to write a brief blurb about myself. I find this a humourous but also sort of dangerous or somewhat arbitrary task. How do you go about doing it? Here’s my latest “effort”:

Andrew studies and teaches the Christian faith full time and also likes surfing, camping, good conversations, and being underwater.

Maybe the key is to not think too much about it.
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Can we trust what the Gospels say about Jesus?

I’m sorry to have been slack of late in my posts. But to begin a return to what I hope will be more regular blogging, I’d like to announce that my essay, “Can we trust what the Gospels say about Jesus?” (an earlier version of which was once available on this blog), has been published and is now available as a nice little booklet! You can have a look at it here (I’m assured by the publisher that it is now in stock).

This booklet is designed to be a brief and readable introduction to the questions that bear on the historical reliability of the Gospels. There are good books on this question out there already; but in my experience, not many people bother to read whole books on this topic — and giving a friend a book can be a bit daunting. I’ve been using this material for a couple of years now and think it can be really helpful for all kinds of people. And what I really hope is that God will use this to lead people to discover Jesus afresh in the Gospels.

So, please have a look,  buy it if you’d like, and maybe encourage your church to buy a bunch if you think it’s worth it (there’s a discount on bulk orders):). I’d also love to hear any feedback you might have. Please feel free to email me: andrewerrington[at]gmail[dot]com.

Ecuador — Some scenes

Bolivia — The Atacama Desert

My wife and I recently returned from a trip to South America. Without turning into a travel blog (fear not), I hope over the next few weeks to post a few sets of photos. Even though it’s a bit different to the normal fare of this blog, I hope you enjoy them. To begin, here are some photos of one of the world’s most beautiful deserts: the Atacama of Bolivia.

Coffee in Bolivia

South America is renowned for its coffee – the beans that is, not the making of the drink. Cafes here offer a “expresso pequeño” (small espresso), or an “expresso mediano” (medium espresso). The small espresso is ok, but too big, but it’s the medium one that really confuses me. An espresso should be around thirty mills, which is really not much. This is because if you keep pouring water through the  ground beans in the group head the coffee gets bitter and you lose the nice rich flavour of the start of the pour. So in a good cafe you should be able to get either an espresso (or ristretto), a double espresso, or a long black, which when done properly means a double espresso poured on about half a cup of hot water. What’s my point? Simply this: there is no in between. There is no medium. It´s not like you can just keep pouring the espresso to make it a bit bigger. So what on earth is an espresso mediano?

Having said this, I am aware I risk sounding ridiculous, so I must add that, despite my confusion, I have been enjoying coffee in South America very much. Technically, I fear I have regressed: I have occasionally added sugar to my black coffee, and have drunk with pleasure several of the mysterious medium espressos. Perhaps I am learning to appreciate coffee again as a drink as well as a technical challenge. Though in the continent that invented Arabica, I wish there was a little less instant.

Jacob — A poem

“Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak.” (Genesis 32:24)
“I walk before the Lord in the land of the living.” (Psalm 116:9)

Jabok. The name sends a chill through me
even now,
years later,
when my sons have grown and my flocks are fat,
and I walk with a stick. So carefully.

For I remember that night,
how I sent my wives and children across the ford,
and
inexplicably,
went back. Compelled by what?

My heart was full
—could I really have slept?—
of the day’s prayers blurted out in anxious faith’s bluster.
“Deliver me, please, from the hand of my brother.
I am afraid. He will kill us all.”
And it was cold sitting by the water,
looking at the stars,
thinking of stories my Grandfather told.

Sometimes I wonder if it was a dream.
If I only imagine I heard the footsteps,
and turned to see him come upon me,
and pushed back with all my might,
holding him off,
rolling down the bank,
kicking and biting,
and even when he broke my hip
did not let go,
until he blessed me:
“What is your name?” He said.
And I gave it; but never caught his,
and was left to work it all out for myself.
“Prevailed”?
Held on, survived, more like it.

Was it all the lies of fitful sleep,
and so with false hope
that I met Esau next day?
A strange sleep, though, that gives a man a limp;
and “Israel”
—I did not give myself that fame.

No, I did see him.
I held him, face to face
And won my fears and doubts.
And I’m still alive
to remember
Jabok.

Sneezes

Sneezes all have different sounds.
Some are quiet, some are loud.
Some are heavy, others light.
Some can wake you in the night.
Some sound like a cat exploding.
Others like a distant moaning.
Some require whole body movement.
Others sneak out like a truant.
(And some are not just sound, but solids;
Watch out for their stray deposits!)
Yes as surely as the world is round,
Sneezes all have different sounds.

Forgive me for this lapse from more "serious" content.
We've had a bit of hay-fever at my house lately and I was in a cheerful mood.

Merry Christmas!

I’ll be away for a little bit, so don’t be surprised if the posts are a bit thin. I’ll be back in the new year, and I hope you will join me again!

“Better is a dinner of vegetables where love is than a fatted ox and hatred with it.” (Proverbs 15:17)

The Joy of Children’s Ministry

This week brought to an end two great years of teaching scripture at Haberfield Public School. I have taught years 2, 5, and 6, and have taught some kids for two years.
At times, this has been tiring and slightly frustrating; but in general it has been a wonderful, and unexpected joy. I have learnt a lot about my own faith, been challenged deeply, and seen God work, slowly, but surely, in young lives. This week I organised and ran the Christmas assembly, which involved all sorts of things, from a funny slideshow to a call and response rap version of lots of Christmas songs. I am full of thanks to God for giving me this great privilege of teaching scripture, for answering many prayers, and for awakening in me an unexpected love for children’s ministry.

“Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”

(Luke 18:16)

 

Picture: Joseph and Mary on their way to Jerusalem, with Donkey, by my year 2 class.

MOVEMBER – THE END

Well, Movember has come to an end.

Can I say a BIG thankyou to all who have supported me. I think we raised about $500. It’s a good cause. Cheers.

And perhaps other could get on board next year:) To take us out, here’s a poem.

 

 

Movember: A Reflection
I began without reluctance,
made my commitment with no regret,
I was a mere child back then –
I had no idea what I would get.

At the beginning it was a novelty,
A laugh for all sorts of folks.
Some would call it “designer stubble”,
And I would smile and join in the jokes.

But it wasn’t long till I realised,
that I’d bitten perhaps more than I thought.
My wife began to seek affection,
rather less than I felt she ought.

After all, my effort was herculean!
I was enduring constant disdain!
Mothers began to hide their daughters.
Old women muttered, “such a shame.”

My dreams of exuding toughness
And charm, I began to despise as phantoms.
When I saw my face in passing cars
I recoiled! But could I my word abandon?

Somehow the middle weeks passed
Without too much more sorrow,
And I found myself in the dying days,
The owner of some kind of mo.

It wasn’t really a handle-bar,
I could hardly call it a “boony”.
To be sure, there was something of the porn-star to it,
But it would hardly have passed in a movie.

In the end, it’s lucky it’s for charity,
because it still receives strange stares.
The plain fact of the thing is that,
There simply aren’t enough hairs!