How to Sell books

Good deeds and noble lives sell books, it is almost as if God gifts people with the ability to write books once they lay down there lives for the true teachings of Jesus and go out full hearted for him and make a difference and get people saved. What happens to those of us that are stuck trying to do the best we can for Jesus but all it seems to add up too is heartache and day light robbery. There was this guy, I could tell you his name but I forget it. Not an uncommon thing for me, I know remembering someone’s name is meant to give them more worth and allow them to feel at ease and more sociable accepted, but I really suck at remember names. I can tell you what Vicky had a fanta orange and nachos on our first date but not the name of the restaurant. So here is this guy, he kept coming to our house to look for work or money. I would also chat with him and listen to his long stories about nothing, ironically it would always be during a meal or when Vicky and I settled in for a movie. So I landed up giving this guy some work, chatting with him. Giving him some of my clothes and really being what I felt was Jesus to the guy. Let me just make this statement though, if as Christians our giving does not actually cost us anything it is not really giving. It cost me nothing to give away the old clothes at the back of my wardrobe that I never wear, actually it gains more wardrobe space so I have more place to put my new clothes I can now buy. We are called to share all we have, so when someone asked you for your shirt, give him or her the one you are wearing. That will cost you something. I have a friend that is a missionary and has been for 15 years. The other day we where talking about money and how we survive. He said that we (missionaries) live off other people’s exposable income. That is true, but a sad truth. If we call ourselves Christians we should be sharing all we have, this is hard when you have a family and between you and God you need to come to terms with that. So this guy kept coming back week after week and I really didn’t have any more money for him but I would make him a sandwich and we would chat, or he would tell me more stories. This went on for months until the one day we had friends visiting and Vicky worked half day so we could go to the Dutch Cheese factory just down the road. This guy saw us leaving and decided to break in, and steal my computer and camera and a whole bunch of my clothes. He tired to steal our cheese but thought it more appropriate to just leave it out on the counter to defrost. The friends all staying with us had all their laptops and ipods in the lounge but the guy left everyone else’s things and stole just mine. Does this mean that we stop being Jesus because of one bad experience? Or does is mean we judge everyone one that needs help? To fear everyone stops us from being Jesus to anyone. We cannot fear based on stereotypes or even previous experiences. Each individual is an individual regardless of colour or social standing.

God has a unique plan and purpose for you life. If you act outside that will it will suck, the same as have you ever used something for a purpose other than it was intended? A skateboard is made to land on its wheels. What happens when it lands upside down and you are on top of it? You eat it and it sucks and it hurts. Is the skateboard mean? Or did you not use it properly?

Once there was a bunch of us on a skating trip; we were having fun and messing around. We went down to the beach to have some time with God as a group and on the way (where? there, back?) we found some trolleys. So we threw some groms in them and started pushing them into each other and playing bumper cars. It was all fun and games until myself and Chad decided to climb into them and got our older stronger friends to stand 50 meters apart and run full speed into each other. Needless to say it was not a pretty sight; an old lady watching starting crying as Chad and I lay motionless on the floor. When we did move I spat out 3 broken teeth and Chad later went to hospital to get his head glued close. Needless to say trolleys are made for shopping not bumper bashing, unless it's to get to the front of the queue.

Fear Drives US...

I went through to PE to watch my friend's band play. There is something about musicians that can make the rest of us feel somewhat inadequate; they are these larger than life personalities that just attract the girls and fame. We are just drawn to stand in awe of them. As if something inside us was made to worship things that are bigger than us. We are almost genetically made with a worship hole inside each of us; we can fill it with whatever we want as long as we fill it, but most of the time those worship items only keep us entertained as long as we are giving of ourselves to the cause. Skating gives me great acceptance and makes me feel sweet cool as long as I am skating, but the stoke of a trick only last so long. If I want to feel that rush, indulge in making something worthy of praise, I need to give it its worth by making the effort and putting into it. God does not need me to give Him his worth, He is God regardless of what I put in or not and he remains worthy of praise regardless of if I put something in or not. He offers acceptance regardless of if I am making the effort.

I have never wanted to be a musician really; I suppose I knew from before I could walk that I was tone deaf and musically challenged. I love singing though, and when I was much younger than today I would sometimes find myself attending worship services on Friday nights at our church. There would also be this “cool” youth band that would play and we would sing along. I remember one night when the vibe was getting to be the slow emotional tug at our hearts deal. But all I wanted to do was sing, so I was standing there singing at the top of my voice expressing all I had to God. Before I could get swept away in the Spirit I got shouted at for making noise; the noise referring to my singing that did not quite fit into the ‘church etiquette’ of the eve. I felt betrayed and heartbroken that I got in trouble for wanting to shout my love for God out. Persecuted for my faith; a bit dramatic now but that’s how I felt as a young lad. It was more my stubbornness and bad attitude that kept me coming back to change ‘church etiquette’ by water bombing the Valentine's dinner eve or having a fist fight in front of the pastor's wife’s car, with her headlights acting like spot lights. I would like to think I won that fight, but don’t even think I got in one punch and I ended up with a bloody and swollen lip. The guy also had a broken finger. The finger was broken before the fight even started, so I can't take the credit for that even, so technically I lost a fight to a one-armed bandit.

I think song writing is one of the few professions that you actually get paid to bare your heart and soul, and maybe that’s what draws us to singers so magnetically; they seem to live what we feel. They seem to have this identity about themselves that actually they can sleep at night with who they are. They leave us feeling rather numb in our own skins, longing for more.

Who we are always seems so important to all we ask. How we see ourselves affects how we interact with each other. We see ourselves as greater than others, or perhaps less than others. Very seldom do we see ourselves as equals to each other. Equals in how we are created, and more importantly who created us. If we are all created in the image of God, then surely we share a commonality inside each of us. If God is the ultimate of beings, a Chuck Norris meets supernatural meets superhero meets Rambo, that would be the dominant gene with in us. That our selfish nature that causes others and ourselves pain is not what should be characterising us and others. Or impacting how we see each other, but we should follow in Mother Theresa’s words that everyone is Jesus and we ought to love them as that.

At the bands evening me and my lovely wife were walking in the street, when we saw four guys walking towards us; in the nicest way, they looked like trouble. My wife got a bit anxious and grabbed her bag a little bit tighter and asked if we could go back. I, the ever caring husband, reassured her that she was being silly and everything was okay, already having assessed the situation that there were only four of them and they were much smaller than me and if I hit the biggest guy first we might be okay. After they walked by and nothing happened and the tension drifted away because of the beautiful surroundings we found ourselves in, I could not help but wonder why we as individuals are so instinctively inclined to think the worst of people. To live in fear of everyone, a fear that stops us from loving people like they were Jesus. Fair enough, some of our fears are real, and living in South Africa in today’s times there are definitely things we need to take into account, especially having a wife. However, I think we are sold lies about the people around us by the evilness inside us and the devil sells us these fears.

Why am I Evil

I remember being around 19; I was a leader for a holiday bible club that was going on at our church. In the evenings we had sessions for all the leaders. There was this guest speaker who spoke on something. I'm not really sure what it was but it had something to do with Jesus and us as individuals; that no matter who is on this earth, if I was the only person on this whole planet Jesus would still have given his life for me. Up until this point I had been a Christian for a while. Fair enough, I didn’t burn my non-Christian music like all the other kids but I kept trying to win God's love though, kept trying to do things, be someone I was not just so God would be happy with me. I had all these images of myself from growing up; I didn’t even want to be with me, why would this God want to take me as I am?

Growing up I was not the smartest kid; I was kept back in pre-primary because I could not speak properly, well its wrong for me too say I could not speak properly, more I could not speak English properly or any other of the 11 official languages of South Africa. I had somehow along life’s path developed my own language that only my twin sister could understand. Unfortunately for her she was kept back too in order to help me out. The plus side was I never had to do my own homework for most of primary school I just copied my sisters. It might explain the A’s I was getting or I was just really good at maths. A friend of the family used to cut our hair for cheap. Basically my hair looked like the lady stuck a pot on my head and cut it. My dad after working for the man as a health inspector wearing suit and tie for 24 years semi-retired as a landscaper, who sold plants on weekends outside the local shopping centre. My brother and I used to help out. Needless to say I was a prime target to get picked on and made fun of at school. I started to believe what the world was telling me, rather than listening to my heart that was crying out, "There must be something more!"

The night of the holiday bible club, I realized something amazing: that God loves me for me, that I am good enough for Him; that in fact I did not need to do anything for that love, it was just there. And because of that love I wanted to do as much as I could for God. The same love that makes me not want to cheat on my wife is the same love that keeps me wanting to do the best for my relationship with God.

The fullness of a relationship with God can only be enjoyed when we start to act out of love and do things God wants us to do out of love. Just as I can enjoy a safe and love-filled marriage because I am faithful, the same applies to God and me. I can enjoy a full relationship with God. That does not mean I don’t mess up; it would be a lie to say that I don’t think other girls are hot. (Hot or not, another thing I don’t understand but will look at later; totally not the way God sees it). In the same way I don’t always do what God wants me to do. Does that mean I throw in the towel and go chasing after girls and forget God and my wife? Never. I refocus my eyes on the prize; the prize is coming home to my wife everyday, the prize is being who God wants me to be. I realize how I am made, where I was born are all part of God’s plan for my life. My parents might not have planned me, but God knew exactly when and where I was coming. He also knows where he wants me to be going. The question is: am I going to listen? I don’t have a problem understanding who Jesus was and is, the problem comes in asking who am I meant to be in response to this knowledge of Jesus. How is this supposed to impact my life? If I believe He is who He claimed to be, then I hold that as a belief. If my actions are not aligning themselves with what I believe, I am going to be a very sad individual. Chesterton once wrote that he feels pity for a man that thinks he is his own God, simply because what a miserable small god that is; it cannot even fix one life let alone a world.

Jesus came to restore our lives but the problem is some of us have good lives and don’t need Jesus; he will just mess up our lives, ask too much or something lame. Chesterton wrote “the ideals of Christianity have not been tried and found wanting, but rather found difficult and left untried”. We seem to live in a world where people are more spiritual than ever, but their spirituality is based more on what they want it too be than anything of any real substance.

If I think negatively then negative things will happen, so basically the church is not to be blamed for doing nothing during apartheid then; it is the peoples fault for thinking it into reality. Give me a break. Surely there has to be depth to spirituality that has an impact on our life’s. Is there not something inside us that pushes us towards doing good? A moral law embedded within us?

When I was younger, I had a friend called Peter; he is a really good guy who had a big heart for people and really wants to make a difference in this world. He is one of the most gifted people at serving others I know and really extends all he is towards others, a lot of time too the detriment of his petrol. Anyway, one day before we became good friends my brother and I walked down to his house to see the door slightly open. We then without hesitation ran through the door, looked around and decided to steal his Christmas tree. We got all the way to the top of the street before he even realized what was happening. We knew straight away we were wrong in our actions. No one had to tell us. He didn’t have to come running up the street screaming ‘STOP’ you are being “EVIL’ for us to realize that.

When kids are growing up, no one teaches them to steal cookies or to lie either though; we are born with this desire to do wrong according to these laws we find within us. Our spirits are literally torn inside us; doing wrong we know is wrong and we do it even if we don’t want to do it. When we do it, then this thing inside us makes us feel bad for doing it. It really feels like a lame deal if there is not something more in all of this. Spirituality has to impact our lives. If God is real he has to impact our lives. If not, let's rather figure out how to switch off this thing inside us that makes us feel guilty for doing wrong things and enjoy a selfish life.

Who are we

“I can live for two months on a good compliment”

I must have been about 12 years old when I got my first compliment, or at least the first one I can remember. Where else should it come from but my mom? I grew up in a family with 3 other siblings. It was fun most days; we could play teenage mutant ninja turtles and not be short any turtles. With so many mouths to feed, clothing was more a "wear what’s going" option, rather than a label option. I remember two clothes shopping trips; the first one was to MR PRICE (it has since become much more acceptable to wear clothes from there now, perhaps after our modelling of it). Anyway, they had a range of cloths called Powerhouse, which was basically an overgrown bulldog with arms and legs doing gym stuff. Of course, with such a great idea for clothing came the great price; we landed up getting matching green and grey tracksuits. Funny, though, the place I got most mocked for my sleek gym attire was youth group and namely from the leaders who had this rock star persona that everyone who was deemed worthy aspired too; this just added to my inner turmoil about being good enough for people, especially the holier-than-thou church folk.

The second shopping excursion was purely a gift from above. We were all out grocery shopping one day when we came across this table in the middle of the shop sky high with t-shirts. The cost was literally a few rands. My dad is the type of guy who loves to find deals and bargains; I am very much my father’s child. So he went mad and bought about 30 shirts for us. The problem was they were all white, with American football teams on the front and fitted the exact opposite of Egyptian cotton. Needless to say, I wore what looked to be the same top for the next 5 years of my life. Due to it being such a great deal, my parents even bought them going up in sizes so we would be okay for the next while. Looking back I am thankful for the deal and the love of my parents. I don’t wish the clothes where different but rather that people would have responded differently too them. Maybe I am just too idealistic in my approach to humanity, but hope is all we have sometimes. My hope and dream is that we will one day have a world in which appearance doesn’t matter, especially in the church. I have a friend who is on a year of your life program through this church. The church is doing such an amazing job in the community and really such a Christian witness and presence. However, my friend was told that in order for people to take him seriously he would need to look the part. Some random in the church actually booked him a hair appointment and said if he cuts his hair they would buy him some clothes too. While this makes me laugh out loud it also breaks my heart. We live in a world with all types of people, who cares what we look like? Its fine to dress nice and have a neat hair cut if that is what you want to do. But don’t enforce that on someone and don’t link appearance with acceptance; especially not in church.

Back to my compliment: I found a pair of my dad’s old jeans, they were a light, almost white blue, with a high waist and tight around my buttocks area! They felt very uncomfortable, but when I showed my mom she said these exact words: “It makes your bum look nice.” They instantly became my favourite pants, even if nobody else liked them.

People love compliments, but mostly superficial compliments. "You look nice today", or "I love that dress!" Boys don’t really like to be complimented on their dresses, but you get the point!

It’s the compliments that reflect on our character that we find hard to accept; it almost makes us feel uneasy! I have sat in many a team building exercise where people go around and encourage and say positive stuff about the other people in the room. To me, this always seems to take forever; more because of the awkwardness of everyone. When we hear positive things about us we struggle to accept them because we know the real us, we know the true us that tries to sleep at night, rather than this great person everyone is talking about. Character compliments reflect how people see us, not how we see ourselves. Perhaps that is the problem.

Self-image is a big thing to most people; we inherently don’t feel good enough about who we are, we wish we could change things about us, where we were born, and even sometimes our parents. Society has a unique way of putting people down in order to elevate themselves. The only way we can feel better is to rip off our friends, but truthfully they feel the same as we do inside, so it’s a vicious circle that never seems to end. If we are honest we seem to have a desire in us that wants us to be better than others. Our parents push us to be the best we can be in sports and academics, teaches reward the smarter kids with treats, it seems all of society push to separate us into classes. The thing is though there is nothing wrong with someone being better than you at something or smarter. That is part of being an individual and how God made you for his plan and purpose on earth. However because our abilities are different does not make us any less or any more important. We are all equals at heart. God is calling us to equality. This creates a type of battle within us that makes us develop a head strong Christianity that is apart form our hearts and what God is requiring of us.

ASKING QUESTIONS

When I think of growing up, we where told like any children what to do by our parents, whenever questioned they would respond with one of the following, and I am sure you can relate, either from hearing it or even putting it in your very own parents quick response handbook. The phrases being “because I said so” or “as long as you live under my roof you will do as I say” or some other variation of that. While that is all part of growing up it almost instills within us a fear of asking questions, or challenging the status quo. I think back to math’s class and it was not a very welcomed thing to ask questions if you did not understand, either you where ridiculed by your peers or the teacher. If you didn’t get it the first time you had to just pretend like you knew what you where doing.

From growing up and heading into church, we tend to take that mentality with us, that it is wrong to ask questions, if you don’t understand, then the problem is with you, not the preachers or the bible. As like in math’s class you land up failing. Failing to fulfill the purpose God has for you, this is just one of the reasons I am putting forward and by no means am I shifting the blame to someone else, but rather helping you understand perhaps why we are so afraid to come to God with questions. Sometimes we fail at school because we are just plain old lazy.

The church has grown up in an era where children are seen and not heard, they are not meant to ask questions. We have taken that attitude with our relationship with God the father and have just taken everything at face value instead of asking questions for the fear it is not allowed.

In the bible Jesus gets asked lots of questions, in the book of Mark Jesus speaks of his death for the third time. But his close followers called the disciples do nothing. Makes me wonder exactly what the disciples did with these insights to the future? I mean if I told you the winning number of the lotto would you go and get the ticket? But in Luke we get a special insight that they did not understand any of these things; the meaning of the words where hidden, like if I just went 7 21 36 87 and walked out you would not know those are the winning lotto numbers. The words where hidden from them. Perhaps because they would have tied Jesus up and stopped him from going to Jerusalem? Or maybe Jesus wanted the disciples to start to take ownership of things and ask him more questions, instead they start worrying and arguing about who is going to be the most. Who is going to be the greatest after Jesus, totally missing the point of what Jesus was trying to teach them. If we look at the majority of Jesus stories he told, they didn’t make sense out right. A lot of times the disciples had to come to Jesus and seek him and ask more questions about what it is he meant or to get a deeper understanding. It also says in Mark 9: 33 that they where afraid to ask him? How many times do our fears stop us from coming closer to God? From asking questions?

If we are all honest we all have questions for God, and I think a lot of the time we are told its wrong to questions God. That we must just believe everything hook line and sinker without actually taking ownership of it. If we stand for nothing we will fall for anything. That means if I don’t know why I believe something, it I haven’t wrestled with it I am properly not going to risk anything for it. In the Old Testament there is a story about a guy called Jacob, in short one night he has a wresting match with an angel, some people say it could have actually been God he wrested with. Either way Jacob has questions for God and wrestled all through the night. As a result from seeking God his hip was thrown out of joint and he was left with a limp. This is not too say that it was wrong of Jacob to ask thinks of God, but rather when we start to ask God questions it will start to have an impact on how we live. Martin Luther once said that there is nothing worth killing for but plenty worth dying for. That statement can only come out of knowing what you believe. I can tell people why I think drinking coke is bad, but when it comes down to it and there is choice is coke or water they will go with the coke. Not because they hate me, least I hope not, but rather because they don’t believe what I believe. They have not asked the questions that I have asked to bring about my dislike for coke.

There is another story in the Old Testament of a guy called Job, he basically looses everything and has warts and boils and is not a happy guy at all. He calls out to God with questions but his friends tell him too shut up, as if asking God questions are wrong. God goes on not really to answer Job’s questions but rather to ask Job a few questions. Do we realize that if God is a personal God and if we can ask Him questions, then he can ask us questions? When we ask questions and get an answer, regardless of what that answer is we then become accountable for the answer, in the same way as if I get study and go for lessons to get my drivers license I then become accountable by law for how I drive. We become accountable for the answers we receive to act them out, and we are also accountable for the answers we give back to God.

Asking questions is cool if its asked for the right reasons, but if we can ask God stuff, he can ask us stuff…

The story begins - A piece of semi fiction

I remember the first time I ever noticed a girl… I thought I was going to die, I felt all shy and stupid and literally thought I was going to die… did I mention I thought I was going to die… every time this girl walked past me or said hi my stomach would do back flips and I couldn’t figure out why… I hardly slept and all that my thoughts consisted of was this girl… her name was Mandy… she was a little blonde girl with green eyes and a beautiful smile… she was the first time I thought there might actually be a God in this world, she was an angel… at least to me she was an angel! Until I saw that she had a boyfriend she quickly turned into the devil! I remember I couldn’t eat, all I could think of was her kissing some other guy… I swore never to fall in love again… what did I know I was 12… and I thought love meant bring your mom her slippers when she asked for them, and if you didn’t the result was a wooden spoon across you bottom… I did break many a wooden spoon in my younger years and developed a rather unrealistic view and understanding of relationship.

The joys of writing to myself is that there is no patterns to be followed, I can write my stories as they come and as they go… some with depth others without even a clue to where I was or how old I was or am… I have always felt as if no one fully understands me… perhaps this is the case even within my self, my heart and brain often don’t match up with what is going on around me… my heart knows what it wants and what it cannot tolerate yet my brain allows it all around me due to a fear of being even more rejected by a society that has a inbred dislike for me…

I have grown up in the same house my whole life, with the same two parents up until now! I have often day dreamed about what it must have been like to be able to say I have moved constantly, I have seen so many movies that glorify the kids that always move, and they face so much trials and issues they overcome, plus it gives them an excuse to be rebels because they just blame it on their parents! I don’t know if I am the only one, but I often thought what if my parents got divorced? Am I a bad person for thinking that if they get divorced I would get more attention from people! I would actually get some attention… Do I crave more attention that most people or is this normal, am I the only one that day dreams of heart ache just because I know it is always followed by attention. I mean am I happy with who I am?

When I was about 12 I would guess, I am going to blame the girl for this one, the girl remember I told you about Mandy the devil girl with a boyfriend! I like this blame shifting… maybe I can even blame my parents for never moving and creating a safe haven, that never allowed me to see more of what houses have to offer… anyway when I was twelve there was a party at my house… I remember as if it was yesterday I was allowed one beer, allowed or stole is just semantics, it was along time ago, I felt as if I was the king of the world, while all the other kids where in the room watching cartoons (I have never had a love for cartoons really, maybe from a childhood experience, who knows). So there I was this 12 year old man hidden in the drive way behind my moms beaten up old car, I know you thinking white trash but give me a break I was only 12! And yes it was a black label, the irony is quite thick. Well there I was in all my glory sipping on this beer thinking to myself this is the worst tasting rubbish in the world (young and naive, I would come to treasure the sweet taste of said drink in my later teens), I never want to be able to drink more than one. So as I carried on drinking (I am only 12 and very impressionable and I felt like I am sure you all feel, drinking mean you are mature and all grown up and all we ever want is to grow up for some unnatural reason, looking back I wish I stayed younger for longer, that I watched more cartoons with the other kids. Back to hiding in the dark with my beer, as I was sipping away my uncle walked past and said something that I have never been able to forget, he said that “I was trouble and would never amount to anything”… I remember feeling as if my whole world was crashing down around me, my heart felt shattered, as if someone shot it out with a shotgun, something died inside me that night. I lost love and belief in myself. I wonder if people understand the power of words, the power they carry over people! Yes its funny sometimes when you say the things you do, but do you realize every actions has a reaction and how sever those actions can be.

To be continued…