Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Great Controversy in my Space

From last week Monday, to date--and continuing on to this coming Saturday--a powerful series of evangelistic meetings are taking place at Gamalakhe, a local township with an informal settlement attached to it in the Port Shepstone area of KwaZulu-Natal's South Coast. Apart from my literally hating the series of so-called speed humps unstrategically placed around the township's major, roundabout road, I was intrigued to notice that it has a powerful sea view. It may be distant, but it is there. There is little evidence to show that it does anything to the local property values, but then, I digress. It isn't that bit of the Great Controversy that intrigues me right now.

Here is my source of intrigue. I am musical. The older I grow, the more that I am learning to appreciate the power and pathos of music. For one thing, while variety is the spice of life, it is interesting that life is just life. There is no variety to its own essence. The sun always rises in the east and sets in the west. We NEVER get a variety of the sun setting in the south and rising in the north. Each day is always 24 hours long, and every week seven days long. There is never a day that is an hour longer or shorter, or a week devoid of a day or two. Despite the significance of variety in life, the presence of certain key constants is part of what makes life worth living. Without these constants, we would not be alive, or if we were, we would not know that we were experiencing variety in life in its other aspects where we ought.

This is the reason for my preamble: with due respect to the pastors behind this evangelistic campaign, I had the shock of my life to hear them say that they intend to dispense with the use of our regular song book and songs during this campaign. To them, the prospect of proselytising some of the folk that they hope will visit  the meetings requires them to set the music to the tone of the songs and manner of singing in the other churches around us. They hope to draw the people's attention by singing their music. Apparently, some visitors to other Adventist campaigns of a similar sort have hailed the truthfulness and power of the Advent message, but shunned subsequent Adventist church fellowship because they apparently did not understand Adventist music. To a man whose whole life is devoted to ministering to the spiritual needs of a growing congregation, it is a blow to his keen sense of duty when some prospective members use such excuses to stay away from swelling the ranks of Adventist congregations. In a sense, the extent to which a particular congregation grows reflects positively or otherwise on a pastor's performance. This is so despite the pastors and the conference leaders who organise their labours knowing that it is the Holy Spirit's duty to convert human hearts--NOT the pastors'.

We have been treated, therefore, to a continual contradiction in terms. The singing, more often than not, contradicts the essence of Advent singing and songs. When the sermon comes onto the stage, it does the very inverse; it more than sticks to the true essence of the Advent message. Throughout the days of the campaign's duration, I feel this inconsistency deeply--but my pastors are as at home with it as ever.

To illustrate the irony of the situation, they hired the services of a young man from another congregation, but one who knows these alternative songs and plays them on piano/keyboard. Since he does not have a piano/keyboard of his own, he used mine. On the very first day that I did, I thanked the Almighty when I heard the young man asking for the functions to activate the automatic rhythms on the keyboard. I use a professional digital synthesiser. If one must use drums on it, they must programme them on a computer. I could just picture the cacophony of so-called religious sound that a keyboard with automatic rhythms would have created! Again, I thank God that such a facility was not available for the young man's use.

This past weekend, two days in a row, this young man failed to turn up for his playing appointment.  By the time that he decided to return, the local pastor had decided against using his services. Here is where I read some deep irony. For someone who had been consistently coming to the meetings as an instrumentalist, but belonging to a different denomination, one would have thought that the messages in the sermons during the time that he spent at the venue of the meetings would have created a positive impression on him. Now that he no longer had to play an instrument, one would have thought that he would have stayed the meetings, at least for that one, as testimony to the power of the spoken word. As soon as he heard that his musical services were no longer necessary, he politely turned around and walked away.

So much for using music that is predominantly foreign to the gospel of Jesus Christ to introduce the gospel of Jesus Christ. His music stood between his availability for musical reasons and his availability to tune into the spoken word. Most musical people are impervious to the power of the spoken word because the bewitching power of music makes it almost impossible for them to hear anything spoken. They are as good as drunk.

My own take of this situation is three-fold:

  1. Advent music, in its own right, is a mixture of hymns that the Adventist church has inherited from all sorts of different walks in the Christian experience, beginning with Methodism, down to Lutheranism. Even Baptists and a variety of other contemporary Christian musicians have contributed immensely to Advent hymnody. What makes the Adventist setting in music different from the same sources from which some of its music emanates is simply this: Adventism uses its biblically-driven theology to rigorously preselect its songs. Adventism also edits any theologically inept lyrics from any songs that it decides to borrow. This preselection, effectively, means that all Adventists who are conversant with the biblical tenets of their faith need to stand and remain unmoved by any attempt to veer away from the use of Advent songs in any Adventist evangelistic campaign or worship service. For as long as Adventist preachers do not see the need to merge their theology with that of other professed Christian persuasions--and rightly so, Adventist songs, likewise, do not need the same compromise.
  2. By the time that any converts stream into the fellowship of the Adventist faith, an adjustment shock of sorts awaits them in the churches to which they will belong. The borderline, compromised music that sounded so familiar to the one that they were used to in their churches is NOT standard fare within most mainstream Adventist churches. A question of truth-telling and honesty then raises its ugly head at this point. Was it REALLY honest to be so unrepresentative of Adventism at the point of musically advertising it (so to speak) that Adventists would deceptively use the musical advertising strains of a competing brand to garner the support of unsuspecting customers (as we would call them IF this were a business venture), only to peel off their fake, outer veneer as soon as the customers have filed into the shop for the falsely-advertised product? Would the God who categorically stated in His commandments that it is immoral to bear false witness against our neighbours be charmed with our attempts to win converts through a breach of this specific commandment?
  3. Music, itself, has a power on the human psyche that eclipses that of the spoken word. Most preachers do not know this, and even upon being reliably informed that such is the case, they still find solace in their routine and retinue of theological expertise garnered from their alma mater theological seminaries. I repeat: the power of music has a greater hold on the human psyche than does the art of the finest preaching. To excite the sensibilities of people with a strain of music that is an antithesis to one's spoken word is to effectively work against one's own objective. Most of the Christian music that is popular in today's predominantly pentecostal religious world is extremely exciting, sensuous and titillating. Having lowered the mind's guard to the basest of extents, it is little wonder that there isn't much concerted effort from attendees at these powerful preaching services, where the compromising music preceded the preaching, to convert the "amens" throughout the sermons to actual, conscientious conduct.
As this part of the Great Controversy between the forces of darkness and light continues, my call is simple: we need to choose to create an atmosphere of perfect, mind-clarity in a service dedicated to the worship of God. God's word ought to appeal to the intellect--not to base sensuality and excited emotions.

Wasn't that a simple task?

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Renewal

After months of absence from this blog, the time to renew postings has come.  After all, there is a time for everything.

My son has not taken a nap in ages (or so it seems), and today--of all days--he slept on my lap.  He has been at it for the past three hours. I expect him to be as hungry as a lion upon his awakening.

I am busy editing the content of my second book. I find it ironic that the blog post that I posted on January 29 last year is now part of the content of my first book, "Euangelion on Facebook" (http://stores.lulu.com/nxumalo). Some of the folk who bought this volume are already inquiring about a sequel. Well, there is some content that is gathering dust on my Facebook notes as we speak, so I guess there will be a sequel. I am too surprised to even think that there will not be one.

My daughter is the only other person in the house, for now. I expect my sister-in-law to breeze in a little while later. If she were not family, I would have preferred that this stage of hormonal expression should occur outside my space. I have two cases on my hands, including this daughter of mine who is in the house right now. While she has not yet come of age, I have begun to sense the tremors caused by the molten lava of hormonal pressure, building up from the inside out. Lord, have mercy!

As for my wife, I just wished she did not work. It is not that I am some sexist, chauvinistic pig. No; that is not the case. It is just that the health of a marital union is not as dependent on monetary means as it is on an investment of time, Time and more TIME. When the pursuit of income factors itself into this picture, including the odd situation in which we find ourselves: she works a good 110 kilometres from home and there is hardly a thing we can do about it until we miraculously find a place to stay that is closer to where she works, there is less and less of that time on the marital side of the equation. Lord, have mercy once more.

I have now steeped my energies into writing books, keeping up with friends online, sipping from their encouragement and also offering them mine. Once in a while, I also dabble in debate, offering solicited advice (and every now and then, unsolicited--eish!) plus trying to follow this link and that link offering prospects in creating an income stream from the comfort of my home, online. I am still devoid of that income since my initial quests a little more than 10 years ago.

I can finally say, without regret, I would be glad to see Jesus break the eastern skies and put this world out of its misery. It is one thing to long for relief from this world when I am most probably unprepared for the next. While Jesus empathises, I am wont to think that He is also as interested in my making it into the new dispensation that I believe His topmost priority is just that: how many can He get ready for the new dispensation?

Your guess is as good as mine. However, this one thing I know: Jesus NEVER performs below par.

Monday, February 9, 2009

What a hectic day!

A friend of mine asked about my hectic day yesterday, and it was my pleasure to confirm to him that I did have a hectic day indeed! However, it was my pleasure to have the hectic day.

You see, that one wife that I have, thanks to God's grace, spent the weekend with us, together with my 10-month old son. We therefore squeezed quite a bit of family time and fun into the weekend as we could. We even went so far as to accompany my wife and son to her temporary abode in Port Edward. That was my two daughters, Cwebile and Nomsa, my sister-in-law, Asive, my wife and the little chap. We had such a grand time in Port Edward that Nomsa didn't want to return; she felt like staying over in Port Edward. The only cost to that fun trip was my sleep. Asive hadn't completed her homework (Physical Science, of all the subjects!). I ended up sleeping WAY past midnight, and had to be up before 7:00 AM to make sure that Cwebile was ready for school. Well, Asive also slept late, but while I slept, she had to be up to prepare to go to school herself. I owe her that round, I guess, but I could argue that the assistance with her homework makes up for that inconvenience, aye?

Of course, that would have some serious logistical nightmares as Nomsa is only five, stays home with me when Cwebile is in school, and my wife has her sister-in-law helping her mind our son at her place of work. To add Nomsa to that fray would be too much.

I must confess this myself: I didn't WANT to leave either...

Well, today, it turned out that there were some critical items that my wife forgot to pack into her pilgrim belongings in Port Edward. We liaised by phone and agreed that I would trek back to Port Edward to deliver this. We all trekked there, in fact, but, fortunately for us, as I type this, Asive's homework is done; she has gone off to sleep, and it is only just past 10PM as I draft this entry.

Again, I didn't want to return from Port Edward today. Each time I look at my wife, now that she stays away from here, she is sexier than ever, and that little chap seems to sense that life just isn't all right unless we are all together, and he has the grandest of times when his sisters are around. I really miss them, but I miss my wife the more, I must confess.

I was telling her that we need to relocate the house from Port Shepstone to Port Edward, somehow. I've never been sure which one of the two maxims particularly applies to our relationship: "absence makes the heart grow fonder" and "familiarity breeds contempt." I've had episodes where I was certain that I am experiencing the one OR the other. In fact, this momentary separation is taking place at a time when there was more turmoil associated with our living together in Port Shepstone than it was by enjoying the experience of living in each others' company. Well, that company is now limited to weekends only, and I am NOT liking the separation at all.

My ideal situation?

I wished I could relocate this house from Port Shepstone to Port Edward, just so that my wife has someone to come to while this phase of our lives lasts. However, if this separation is necessary to foster a spirit of rekindled joy and family links, then I welcome this stressor, for it comes for a reason. I hope to outlast its hefty weight on my spirit so that I can appreciate the lessons and grooming that it has to bring to my life.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Where it all began

I've been on the face of this planet for a little over 30 years now. Born and bred on a Christian mission station in the southern part of Zimbabwe, I especially appreciate the background that I have and the place that I could call home on that mission field now that I have left. Thanks to the political exploits of Robert Mugabe, I find no pleasure in watching the world around me wither in another man's hands.

My earliest memories of my life are from as far back as the years when I was two, turning three, and I was conscious of the fact that I had a family, two brothers and a sister. I particularly remember this one memory that I will detail here.

My father is a pastor who later trained to be a high school teacher. His area of expertise was Zulu and History. From my earliest memories, he has spoken English in an accent that I can't quite place, but you would have to look twice to confirm that, indeed, this is an African man speaking in English! Despite that high polish in his English, he is as Zulu as they come. He is now retired from active duty. In his early years as a full-time pastor, he was once stationed in Fort Victoria (now called Masvingo, in Zimbabwe). I have a faint, but lingering memory, of playing with one Tobaiwa Masarira. From my mother's recollections of those times, I used to have a fondness for this chap that I can hardly remember because I was SO young!

If I try to get any more specific than that, I am likely to get a concentration headache, so I will leave that aspect of my telling to a time yet future when something might just prod my memory to remember in more detail.

After Masvingo, my father was stationed in Plumtree, and that is where my younger (of the two brothers that I have) was born.

I will take the story up from there tomorrow.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Drained...

As for today's events, this idealist is TIRED--dog tired.

When my wife and I decided on opening up that health shop, we had the idea of relocating to a place that we thought was ideal: Port Shepstone. I have already expressed my sentiments about the "ideal" place that Port Shepstone is, so I will make do with what I have. If anything, let the place serve to be a stepping stone to actual ideals.

When we acted on the idea, we separated for some months by a distance of over 450 kilometres. Neither one of us liked that separation, but we deemed it temporary and necessary. In the meantime, my wife prepared to relocate HER business interests to where I was so that we could be together.

Today marks the close of that chapter of togetherness. In a bid to contain the economic losses sustained in last year's foiled attempt to launch the health shop successfully in Port Shepstone, my wife will begin cooping up in a little cottage midway between where we stay and her place of work. The stretch is some odd 110 kilometres. My wife has been driving this stretch every weekday and some Sundays from August 2008 to date. From the halfway point about which I speak, the road is crosses a provincial boundary. From a fairly well-maintained road, it narrows down considerably in width, winds through the most hazardous and haranguing of landscapes, meandering through hilly, forbidding terrain, with many a pothole plus lots of cattle and other domestic animals on the public thoroughfare. Some of the cattle appear to be two-legged as they walk right along the pathway created for vehicles, and walk in such a fashion as to seem oblivious to the vehicles that whizz by, unmindful of the highly likely possibility of being hit by one.

Cattle on the road! That's another story (if not several) for another day.

Suffice it to say that we have come full circle. We will be living separately AGAIN, indefinitely, until my less-than-ideal situation as the husband and father in this house is sorted out along economic lines. I would LOVE to contribute meaningfully to the family budget, and that is just not happening in these circumstances. Lord in heaven, hear our plea!

It could be the very thought of this impending separation, or it could be other factors, or a combination of all of these, but I am just drained. Even as I type this, I am overdue to be in bed, and here I go: off to bed.

One day, I should be able to sleep at 9:00 PM, consistently. In my ideal world.... In my ideal world.

O, well!

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Full Earth Cycle Round the Sun... (excerpt from my Facebook Notes)

I shared the following note with my Facebook friends, and it is pertinent that I share it here as well. Here goes:

===============================================

It was my birthday yesterday, declared a holiday by a quasi-Briton who shares the same birthday (not date: day!). Today, another three people that I know also had their birthdays.

The other day, I tried to picture God in the heavens, looking down at us earthlings, throwing parties and sending messages of goodwill whenever one of us completes a full earth cycle around the sun. For some reason, I couldn't picture Him finding reason to have a party. After all, He is the One who set time rolling. Before time began, He is. I find that AWESOME, don't you?

It is a similar kind of awe that I feel when I meet someone who has lived long enough to call my dad "son." Now, THAT is seniority, and my dad is not young, by any means.

Back to that image of God looking down on us, celebrating the fact that we have lived long enough to see the beginning of yet another cycle around the sun. Every day on this planet is someone's birthday somewhere, and, boy, do humans party! Any excuse to indulge the appetite, and I will call for a party.

On the FIRST day of the week, the day popularly known as Sunday (we will not be fooled by the quasi-calendars that mark the day popularly known as Monday as the first day of the week), God, after setting time in motion on this planet, said there should be light. There WAS light.

Now, to appreciate the significance of that FIRST creative act on this planet, I know, for a fact, that, for light to exist, there ought to be a source. In this account, light existed with no named source for the light.

AWESOME! :-O

As I type this, the sun has slipped over the African horizon, ushering in a night of rest for me and my spiritual friends who share the same ideal that I will describe just now. In the night, darkness (the ABSENCE--NOT the inverse, but the ABSENCE--of light) reigns. In my world, therefore, I associate light with it's source: the sun, the same golden, gleaming orb that peeps over the eastern horizon, hours before the telltale signs of a brightening day have marked its imminent appearance.

However, and I am deliberately stressing this point, the very FIRST Sunday on this planet was marked by the presence of light WITHOUT THE SUN!

AWESOME!! :-O

Two, three, and four days later, only then did God speak the sun, and other celestial bodies (I wouldn't know if these were the ones that are observable by the naked human eye only, or the ones in the solar system only, or the whole lot in the whole universe) into existence.

I therefore put it to you, as you read this short excerpt, that light, the progression of night and day, existed for a FULL three days before the sun EVER existed. On that note, whatever the age of the earth is, we must add three days to it, for we count years by the number of full cycles that this earth makes around the sun, and the sun, in the beginning, wasn't there for a full three days of this planet's existence as we know it before the sun came into being. Three days out of seven, counted by 24-hour cycles that were NOT regulated by the earth's orbit around the sun.

OUCH!

Here's the point: for the Roman pagans who contrived the idea that the golden blob in the sky, the same one that reliably rises every morning to herald the start of a new day, is some god, and then named the FIRST day of the week after this god, isn't it ironic that this sun god NEVER existed on the very FIRST Sunday on earth?

As I type this, the Sabbath has begun in my area. I am at rest (halellujah!). Some other people will be marching off to "rest" in obedience to the edict of his papal supremacy 24-hours late, on the venerable day of the sun.

I'm suddenly reminded of the account of Elijah on Mount Carmel (1 Kings 18). When you go off to worship the sun god on Sunday, lo and behold, God has NOT created him yet! You may scream and kick, cut yourself and yell yourself hoarse, but the only God who answers by fire said to rest on the LAST day of the week, and that day is NOW.

I rest my case (no pun intended). :-)

===============================================

My ideal world would involve this WHOLE planet coming to a halt, literally, every seventh-day of the week, to commemorate a full cycle around the Son. The record of Scripture according to the Gospel of John, the first chapter, reveals that the Divine Being who brought this planet into existence, plus these paltry creatures called man, is none other than God, the Son.

My Birthday

Of all the days to start a regular post of my memoirs online, it had to be on my birthday. " Hip! Hip! Hooray!!"

As a believer in the Almighty God, I am blessed to have lived to see the completion of yet another earth-cycle around the sun.

To those who do not believe in God, think about your lack of belief in this way: IF God exists, you will have something to lose when He decides that He is calling a stop to all the New World Order nonsense that we see going on in this world. IF He doesn't exist, you will have had NOTHING to lose by believing that He does. The statistical odds that He exists against the odds that He doesn't are 50:50. Those odds are too great to stake on the equal chance that He doesn't exist.

Fortunately, God HAS left more than enough footprints in the sands of time for humanity to establish, by faith, that He does exist. Whenever I see a shadow on the ground as I approach a corner, cast by some object around the corner, beyond the reach of my eyesight, I cannot prove through sight that the object around the corner DOES exist, but I can extrapolate, from the existence of its shadow, the one fact that, for certain, the object that cast the shadow exists. The presence of a shadow presupposes the object that casts the shadow.

As I look back at the full extent of my years of existence, I can say, now that the answer to the question on God is firmly established beyond dispute, that I owe it all to Him, to God.

I sit at home today, with my younger daughter watching a National Geographic nature special on the story of a young, male leopard named Chilolo, I could be anywhere but here. I could be a piece of humanity reduced to living my life off the streets, or in a mental asylum, save for the grace of God. As my story unfolds, the reason for my saying so will become apparent. Even then, I dare not minimise the experiences of those who have seen worse by pitting mine against theirs. However, this is just my story and not theirs. Therefore, I look at my life purely in its own context.

My older daughter is off to school already (she is in Grade 5 and has brains that would rival most politicians that I know). My only begotten son went off to work with his mom. I have a wife who makes my world go round. However, she is so bashful when I say things like that, so be kind and not tell her I said these things about her online..., but then I can't help it, so there!

Didn't something sound odd in what I just said? Maybe not, depending on one's personal views, but I feel odd. Here's why.

My wife and I opened a health shop a while ago. I'm a health nut, you see. However, I'm only nutty in the most reasonable of ways (smile). For one thing, I believe that being healthy doesn't mean eating insipid food. If that is what it meant, judging from some of the health food products that I've come across on this planet, then could these health freaks who make such deplorable products explain to me why the Lord of Heaven endowed us with sensitive taste buds, only to deny them their full taste sensations for so-called health reasons? I literally get red under my collar when some people misrepresent health interests in annoying and insulting ways like that.

By no means do I want to convey the image that I am above reproach. However, there is a fine line between promoting a rarely appreciated stance like healthful living and totally losing it, and going all cuckoo in the process. I am, by no means, cuckoo. For the same reason that God gave people taste buds for their full use, so also did He give them fine brains for their use too. I choose to use my brain, thank you.

Back to the health shop story, I ran the health shop, for my wife has her own business interests. I opened shop in November 2007, in a small south coastal town called Port Shepstone in the KwaZulu-Natal province of South Africa. For one thing, I failed to factor into the business plan the interesting socio-economic setup in Port Shepstone.

Being close to Durban (Durban is a mere hour's drive from Port Shepstone), there is a large Muslim Indian population in Port Shepstone. Most of the businesses and buildings in the central business district are run and/or owned by our Indian Muslim business brothers. In my short existence, I have never seen a need (if we can call it that) to exact so much money for the use of one's services. For a shop space of close to 100 square metres, I was paying close to R13,000.00 per month, from the word "go."

One could argue that I had a choice to seek rental services elsewhere.

Hmm. I had been looking for shop space to rent for almost a year before I settled on the shop space in question. Not only was it strategically placed next to a major road, facing the road, it was also placed next to a pizzeria, a video shop, and a major bank around the corner. Did I mention that it was also positioned on the upper part of a mini-mall, with a Super Spar Hypermarket on the lower floor?

When I initially approached the estate agent for its availability, when the shop was still under construction, he told me that the landlord actually wanted R20,000.00 per month in rent! Now, before I make this landlord sound outrageously exploitative, another landlord who owns a shopping complex next to the one that I eventually rented also rents out shops of similar, or slightly smaller, size for R20,000.00 per month or more. O, yes, he is Muslim too, so I have concluded that it must be an Islamic arrangement between these Port Shepstone businessmen. Yet another Muslim businessman was renting shop space slightly bigger than the one that I rented for about R26,000.oo per month.

Why do I mention all this? Just to highlight a simple fact: between January and March of the following year (2008), South Africa had a series of electrical power blackouts called loadshedding. For the rough winter that the country had had in 2007, and most people relying heavily on electricity to keep warm, there was not a shred of load shedding for the WHOLE winter. Come the HEIGHT of summer, and all of a sudden, South Africa had insufficient electrical power to dispense to the whole country when the needs for electrical energy were most minimal. That, plus a dire budget speech made by the Minister of Finance in March of 2008, brought many a business to its knees.

My knees buckled in July 2008 after my sales figures literally plummeted from March until I closed shop. Before then, I had had a steady, upward climb in sales, peaking in February. I moved our shop equipment and stock to our garage, and have been trying to peddle some of the stock from there. It has been most difficult without the natural advantage of shop space in the public thoroughfares in Port Shepstone.

So, I sit here at home, sorely wishing I had a means of reversing this story that I have just told, and rebounding from the financial hiccups that this venture into the unknown has caused. Until I redefine what I do, or find something else to do, I am a happy but rather unsatisfied house-husband. If there is a housewife, then I am her counterpart.

While it is fortunate for our family that my wife can still work, I would rather that she was the one who was at home, taking care of our 10-month old son at home, rather than fending for him at work. The last time I checked my mammary glands, they were totally dysfunctional when it came to feeding an infant, so I do not blame my wife for going off to work with the son; no, I don't. Her mammary glands DO work, and, yes, I checked! They work. However, I cannot stop wishing for the IDEAL: I wish I were the one working and my wife taking a more than deserved maternity break.

Is that too ideal a wish?

As I close off this birthday blog, I have tabled this issue with God in prayer. In His wisdom, He will attend to my needs and those of my family, as He sees best, in His time. It is ONLY in that light that I can truly say: I am happy though there is a vacuum of purpose in my desire to be employed in a project that can generate income for my family.

This is the Idealist, signing off... ;-)