My Dad

The man sits down next to me and opens his bag to pull-out a thick novel he is halfway through. His arms and face are a bright red colour – sunburn from the recent warm weather and his lack of sunscreen. There’s a little girl sitting opposite eating jellybeans with her mum.

“You can only have one,” the lady says to her daughter. The Jellybean Girl is dissatisfied with the offer and cheekily grabs a handful out of the packet.

Sunburn Man notices and tells how his youngest son does the same thing, instigating a conversation between the two about their children. The man talks passionately about his three children – even standing up at one point to describe the height of his seven year-old. Never does Sunburn Man portray his children as difficult or a burden. Nor does he express how they tire him with their misbehaviour or disobedience.

His unconditional love for them is potent in his speech.

It occurred to me that this is how God speaks about His children. About me. He doesn’t dwell on my disobedience or stubbornness, but rather talks about how proud I make Him, how strong I’m becoming with my arm-wrestles, how I ask for outrageous things.

And I know that when I make a mistake and approach my Dad with a downward face and guilt-laden shoulders and manage to muster the strength to look him in the eyes and say the words, “I’m sorry”, His arms open wide. He gives me a warm hug and He says,

“Jason, it’s OK. I love you.”

Dear God

The trip to Philippines was truly amazing. I won’t lie – it was very challenging and draining for me, but I labour with joy as I see peoples’ lives transformed by Your love. The humidity was a bit of a killer, but our bodies slowly adjusted. The food was somewhat repetitive – rice for breakfast, lunch and dinner – but it sustained us nonetheless. And the sleep – almost non-existent – but You still gave me the strength to get up in the morning. I’m grateful that You put up with my somewhat too frequent complaining to You. I realise that You were hoping to deplete my natural strength so I may be sustained by Your supernatural strength.

I loved the people of the area – the kids in particular. Their lives are so simple compared to that of western society. Have we overcomplicated life? I also cannot forget about the lady named Joy whom we encountered in one of the villages. Thank You for the opportunity to enter her home and share the Gospel. Thank You for touching her and allowing her to feel joy within her heart. You really did come to seek the lost, the sick, the oppressed, the widows, the orphans. I witnessed with my own eyes You doing such things. The queue for healing after the rallies was sometimes unbearably long, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

I’m also grateful for our fellow team mates. I believe we were handpicked by you to work together, and I really feel a great sense of family when I am with them. I see their passion and desire to be Your hands and feet, and am very much inspired by it.

This trip was so unique, and I believe that it will have a lasting impression on my mind.

Lots of love

Jason.

Until next time.

Crime and punishment

A mum and her son board the bus and take a seat in the priority seating area in front of me.

"Do you want a drink of juice?" inquires the mum.

"Yes please," replies the little boy. He has an olive complexion with short, dark curly hair. The mum is caucasian, but judging by the child's appearance, the father was probably african.

The boy sucks on the bottle for a few seconds. "Mmmmm orange juice - my favourite," he says. In a way I think he knows that he is slowly becoming the centre of attention - and generally that would be enough for me to lose interest in someone, but he is just so adorable that I allow myself to remain amused.

He pulls-out what appear to be his two favourite toys - Spiderman and Superman figurines. He starts playing, prompting his mum to take the role of Spiderman while he assumes the personality of Superman.

"Spidey, we've got to save Mary-Jane from Venom," yells Superman.

How cute. He's even gotten his superheroes mixed-up. It seems Lois Lane has been shafted for the time being.

"Spidey, let's go to Venom's house and rescue Mary-Jane," commands Superman.

* Ding dong *

"Oh hello, Viper. It's me - Superman. I haven't seen you in a long time," says Superman.

At this point, it seems poor Spidey is just an accessory - taking no formal role in the rescuing of Mary-Jane.

"Why are you such a bad man, Viper?" asks Superman.

"Well I just don't know, I try my best," he replies.

"Here, I'll take you out of prison - I want you to be a good person," says Superman.

I smile at the child's perception of right, wrong and redemption.

Can the act of freeing someone from unfavourable circumstances that are completely as a consequence of their own actions instigate change? Can it encourage reformation?

It can. But only if there is a price - such that there is some form of value associated with it. A sacrifice has to be made - a sacrifice that the reformed will be able to remember and be forever grateful for. A sacrifice that is so great, that the reformed cannot repay it, but can only say the words, "Thank you" over and over again.

The lyrics of a song from Kids Church come to mind:

Jesus you're my Superhero

You're my star

My best friend

He took me out of prison and gave me a brand new start. May I never forget that.

We approach uni and under instruction from his mum, the boy jumps back into his pram - ready to continue his adventure sometime later.

Whoever hates his life in this world will find it.