Wazzapedia.

I’ve been doing a lot of reading recently. I’ve got two books on the go (The Reason for God and 11), and I’ve subscribed to a few different blogs.

Most of the blogs I added to my feed reader are “emergent”-ish. Honestly, I tried to find a few evangelical/reformed-ish blogs, because I like to have my thinking challenged. Unfortunately, almost all the ones I saw seemed to have become spruikers for the Republican party and/or determined to convince the reader that a vote for Barack Obama was a vote for Satan himself. Admittedly, most of the blogs I’ve started following also touched on the election to some degree or another (how could they ignore it), but the difference in tone between the two sides was… scary.

The thing is, the difference in tone doesn’t seem to be restricted to Election 2008.

I’m both fascinated and repulsed by Christian bloggers whose mission in writing seems to be to tear down other Christians for “wrong doctrine”. At the extreme edge, you find the “Online Discernment Ministries” whose SOLE meaning in life seems to be found in tearing at the ministries and beliefs of other Christians. Did I mention that invariably they appear to be self-appointed “watchmen”.

This post is an expansion on my response to a post on the Internet Monk’s blog.

I have an extremely mixed church background - far less mixed over the past few years than when I was growing up, but there’s been one constant. I never felt like I belong. I’ve always had questions, and when I’ve gotten up the gumption to ask pastors and leaders, it almost invariably doesn’t seem to go well. I’ve been accused of being “too intellectual”, “thinking too much” and “overly cynical” (actually, that last one’s probably right).

My spiritual life seems to have been a combination of bitter disappointments and constant questions. Thus, I seem to find myself most at home with the “emergents”. Although wary of labels, I’m leaning towards “post-charismatic”.

Unfortunately, this leaves me in somewhat of a predicament.

I’ve been involved in three churches since we moved to Melbourne. I grew up in a series of Pentecostal/charismatic churches and groups; the first church we went to when we got to Melbourne was a Toronto-style/associated church.

The church family showed us a lot of love and care, but I eventually found it too much of a struggle to deal with the “experience-chasers” who seemed to move from church to church looking for a “Holy Spirit buzz”. They talk some really big talk, but their entire walk seems to revolve around getting their fix. I also had difficulties with some of the guest speakers who would visit and who seemed to be living examples of some of the worst things I experienced growing up.  Over time, I eventually stopped going.

The second is Cafe Church, a self-described “emerging church”. It’s a wonderful group of people, who I really enjoy spending time with. I think many of the questions the “emerging” church are asking and are willing to struggle with are important. Some of them are exactly the same questions that I’ve been asking for much of my life. I’m tired of hearing glib “easy” answers to difficult questions that only satisfy the one answering, and not the one asking. I feel at home asking difficult questions, and discussing the answers, and how it all ties into living my faith practically. 

But… it’s 40kms from home, on a Tuesday night. It makes it difficult to be a part of the community when there’s no simple or economical ways to be involved in the other events that are part of the life of the community. I’m still on the mailing list, and the Facebook group, and go along when I can.

When petrol got really expensive, and I was tired of not attending church anywhere, I tried CityLife. It’s not far from home, most of the theology seems pretty straight down the line, and I got a lot out of the sermons.

Eventually though, I came to an impasse. CityLife was working for me, wasn’t working for “us”.

See, my wife had stayed in our old church. She’s happy there. However, this created tension at home - I was looking for a home church we could all attend, and she didn’t want to leave our old church. She wanted me to attend with her.

I’m also friends with one of the members of the church leadership team. In him, I’ve seen a Christlikeness that inspires me to want to be more like Christ. He knows what I’m like better than most people. He knows how much I struggle with just attending. He’s seen me roll my eyes when something really tweaks me. He knows the questions I ask, and how I feel most comfortable with the “emergent” conversation, rather than the “charismatic” one.

So… I’ve gone back to a church that, in all honesty, I want to run away from. Again.

See, I don’t even know if it’s possible to have the “emergent” conversation in the midst of a group of people who seem to value mystical/spiritual experience far above practical faith.

However, maybe there is stuff I’m meant to learn. Like how to persevere. Maybe there’s something to be learned about how to worship God in a situation that I’d really rather not be in. Maybe I need to be asking my questions in the middle of this group out in the suburbs, instead of with a group of people who are asking the same questions. Perhaps God wants me to learn, as much as I need to ask questions. Perhaps it’s time I stopped running away, and confront my issues with my theological past. 

But I’m not sure how I’ll take the next person who walks up to me and wants to give me “a word from God”.

Perhaps a headlock.

I was going to write another post about depression for Blue Day, but in the end I seemed to be rehashing my post from last month, and I have no intention of turning this into a “depression” blog.

However, October is Anxiety and Depression Awareness Month, and today, October 10th is World Mental Health Day.

Blue Day 2008 is a site put together by a number of people in the Australian social media and tech communities in support of World Mental Health day. Some of us have experienced it, and most have known someone who has. According to Beyond Blue, one in five people will experience depression at some stage of their lives.

A group of Twitterers (including myself) have turned our twitter icons blue in support, and have tagged our related posts with #blueday2008.

The reality is depression will touch you or someone in your life. Most of us who experience it don’t want to stay there, living in it - no matter how it seems from the outside.

Sometimes we just need someone to listen and point us in the right direction, sometimes we need more help. Like any other illness, healing takes time, and some of us will never be “100%”. Some will require medication permanently, just like a diabetic. For others, it will be like a broken leg, and the medication and counselling are the cast and crutch to get back on our feet.

There is still a stigma around mental illness, but with knowledge and understanding, together we can make that a thing of the past.

If you want to get involved in Blue Day 2008, I suggest the following:

• If you don’t have a blog or a podcast, register on this site and submit a post that will appear on the Submitted Posts page.
• Change your avatars on your favourite social networking site Twitter/Facebook/FriendFeed/etc to something blue, download one of our pre-built ones
• Follow us on Twitter
• Modify your blog theme to be mainly blue
• Run a Second Life event, or attend the jokaydia event
• Wear blue for the day
• Organising a meet ups on the day, currently organised:
  • Melbourne - Oct 10 from 5.30pm at Fad Gallery (more details - http://tinyurl.com/blueday)
  • Sydney - Oct 10 from around 5pm, will be a STUB event and part of Official Friday Drinks at Grace77Bar on the Mezzanine level, cnr King and York
  • Adelaide - details TBD
  • Brisbane - details TBD
  • Perth - Oct 10 from 7pm at Queens Hotel - 520 Beaufort Street, Highgate
  • Canberra - details TBD
• Tag your photos/posts/tweets with BlueDay2008
• Become a fan on FaceBook

Wow. I didn’t expect anything like the responses I had to my last post. I want to explain some things.

I was diagnosed with clinical depression in late 2000-early 2001. I didn’t go to the doctor looking for a diagnosis, the doctor just started asking questions. I’d had a breakdown a couple of years earlier, and never “dealt” with it. I was put on anti-depressants, and went off them six months later, against doctor’s orders.

I had another breakdown in the middle of 2006. I was in a high-stress job, and eventually came apart at the seams. I was put on anti-depressants again, which I ceased taking on Good Friday this year. While they helped me get sorted out again, for me the side effects were ultimately worse than the cure.

One of the comments claimed that depression is a ‘modern invention’. There’s an element of truth to what he’s saying, but it’s wrapped in a attitude that’s the kind of response (in my experience) that causes many mentally ill people keep their mouths shut and “deal with it” in silence. 

I don’t shirk my responsibilities. I’ve been employed since I left high school. I’m raising a family, mindful that my attitudes and response to this illness have had an effect, and will have an effect on my children. Mindful of a family history of depression.

My grandfather drank himself to death. My grandmother was on lithium for part of her life. My cousin blew his brains out. My paternal grandfather was an alcoholic who dried out in his seventies. I had a shrink once describe it to me as “you lost the genetic lotto”.

Please understand why I wrote that post. I’m don’t want your pity, and I’m not a hero. I’m just a guy, trying to live my life and raise my family. My younger brother is extremely visually impaired; to me he’s a hero for just living through what he’s had to live through, and still keeping a cheesy grin on his face.

I wrote that post because I was finally able to put into words what has been rolling around inside my head for ages, trying to come out. I wanted something to be able to point people to if they ask what it’s like to live with depression, to explain what it’s like from the inside.

I’m not sitting on my couch waiting to die, crying into my cornflakes “woe is me”. I’m trying to live. To appreciate my life, and the blessings I have. I have an illness that won’t go away through wishful thinking, or just “deciding to stop”. However, there are things I can do to deal with the blackest days and that is what I choose to do. Some days I succeed, some days I fail.

But please, please, PLEASE - don’t use my post as an excuse to sit on your couch, crying into YOUR cornflakes. If you’re in a situation to read these posts, you’re likely to be financially in the top 20% of the world population. You ARE blessed. Live life. Don’t let it just wash over you.

It’s hard; I understand just how hard it can be. Maybe you’re like me and “lost the genetic lotto”. Maybe you suffered through experiences that have caused your brain to break. Maybe you’ve been pushed (or pushed yourself) to the edge, and then went over.

In 2008, you don’t have an excuse to suffer in silence, or feel sorry for yourself over your illness. Get help. Talk to people. Look after yourself, and take responsibility for dealing with your illness. In my experience, people are a lot more likely to be willing to look out for you if you’re being proactive about dealing with it.

Be gentle with yourself, allow for the fact that you’ll have black days. But remember, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and however briefly you pass into that light, and you may enter a tunnel again, that light is unlikely to be an oncoming train.

pps. 23rd Sept.

One more thing. Get out there and start creating. Write, paint, sing, just start something. I can only speak from my experience, but of the people I’ve met who suffer depression, there seems to be a much higher percentage of them that have incredible creative talents. Almost like the other side of the coin. I don’t know, I only have circumstantial evidence, and it might even warrant another post.

It seems to me that creating stuff (particularly stuff that’s not focussed on depression) seems to provide an outlet for something buried inside. Maybe I do need to write another post

You can’t explain to someone who hasn’t been there what it’s like to wake up, and the black curtain of storm clouds have suddenly dropped around you. How do you face the people around you, silently mouthing to each other “again?”. How can you explain that the objectively irrational impulses seem subjectively rational? That you understand that you’re not OK, but there’s nothing you can do to change it, while the world goes on making demands as if you still felt “normal”.

Your partner still wants you to be able to be there for her. The kids still want to get hugs from you - and they still need to eat. The boss still wants you to output widgets. The bank still wants you to make payments on the credit cards you used to survive when things went pear-shaped last time. The landlord still wants his rent. 

There are two ways things can go from here. Sometimes with a good night’s sleep (or two, or more), and some looking after yourself, things will be OK again, and you’ll pick up your stuff, and keep moving forwards.

Sometimes, things don’t get better. The wiring isn’t just on the fritz, it’s burnt out. If you ask for help, they’ll insist on chemical assistance. They don’t really understand quite why or how the chemicals work, but “they should help”. They might (will) have side effects. The cure might end up being worse than the disease. If that one doesn’t work, they have others. Or a cocktail of medications, each one to deal with the side effects of another. That way lies its own unique madness.

With the meds, they might prescribe talking. Lots of talking, in the vain hope that like the infinite monkeys with their infinite typewriters might turn out some Shakespeare, if you say enough words for long enough, everything might fall into place. Sometimes they’re good at listening, sometimes they’re not. With the right person, it helps.

Some sift your words carefully, picking out the little nuggets of truth that help you understand a little better who you are. Others nod, grunt, and write you another prescription. I’ve known both. And it’s expensive to sit in a little room and talk. When you’re in a situation where you need to sit in a little room and talk, there’s a good chance that you’re not in a position to be able to afford it.

Fortunately, for me, most days now resemble ordinary. I wake up. I stare at the face in the mirror worn with lines I don’t remember collecting, and stubble that feels like it belongs on someone older than me. I go to work, and try to fit into “normal” like a cheap suit that I bought in a hurry and can’t take back.

But occasionally, there are those days. Days where the mask is tissue-paper thin. Surviving the day is an act of will that leaves a lingering exhaustion that seeps into your bones. Like a drowning man in a flash flood, you wrap yourself around the hope that the waters will recede soon, and you’ll be safe and dry again.

At least until the next deluge.

Postscript, 21/09/08

“Try for a moment to imagine a personal world drained of emotion, a world where perspective disappears. Where strangers, friends, family, and lovers are all held in similar affection, where the events of the day have no obvious priority. There is no guide to deciding which task is most important, which dress to wear, what food to eat. Life is without meaning and with meaning has gone motivation. This colorless state of being—the very antithesis of the emotional outpouring experienced in grief—is exactly what happens to some victims of severe melancholic depression. Emotion drains away to be replaced by a visceral void.” — A Mood Apart — Peter C. Whybrow, MD

…actually, I’m still sorting through my feelings.

I’ve been playing MMORPGs for about five years, and the last three years of that was playing WoW. A few weeks ago, I cancelled my account, but missed the renewal date by three days, which left me with a month of playtime. It’s not the first time I’ve cancelled my account, but it’s going to be the last.

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Massive storms swept through Melbourne this afternoon.

I work in Nunawading. Thought the roof was going to lift off. Could be worse though.
You could work for Origin Energy a few doors up from our office.

That’s my car. I tried to check it for damage, but was waved off from moving it because it was ‘unsafe’.

A friend of mine, Alister Cameron, got Dugg. This is something he appears to be very happy about, and in a couple of days I’ll ask him about the details to unpack the post-digg results.

The post in question was regarding Alister’s unintentional uncovering of a list of credit card numbers through Google. While I’m not terribly concerned about someone uncovering my credit card number (let’s face it, it’s hard to buy stuff on a card with no available credit), I did think about the advice he gave about searching Google for your own credit card number.

I think his suggestions are reasonable, if a little misguided. As several people have since commented (and I swear I thought of this before they left the comments!) punching your entire credit card number into Google might not be the wisest move. Apart from being transmitted in plain text, the search can be stored in your search history, and thus is stored in Google’s enormous database. Also, advising that the number is useless without a CVV2/CVC2 number is incorrect. You can still make a card-absent transaction without these numbers in many cases, but (as I understand it) it just means that if the card-holder disputes the transaction, there is a much better chance of the dispute going the card-holder’s way.

In addition, in my experience with dealing with client credit card information (I’ve had some interesting jobs), most credit cards have a two or three year expiry date. It brings the potential range of expiry dates down to 24-36 months at the outside. It’s just information I wouldn’t want to risk.

However, Alister’s advice is good, with some modifications. If you want to Google your credit card number, drop off the first four, and last four digits, enclosing the middle eight digits in quotation marks. The first four digits give away the card type (eg, 4564 is a Visa card). Removal of the last four digits renders the card number useless, even if some nefarious individual was able to guess your card type.

Thus, if your Visa card number was 4564 1234 5678 9012, you would search for “12345678″ and also “1234 5678″ (including the space). This logic would also hold for Alister’s advice about searching for your password - if it’s something unusual, but I don’t think I’ll be doing any password searches all the same.

I was working away yesterday when a Twitter from Andrew Sayer popped up noting that John Ilhan (aka “Crazy John”) had died. John Ilhan was the founder of Crazy John’s Mobile Phones. He was 42, married with four kids, and a self-made multi-millionaire. I was vaguely aware of him until Monday night, when Today Tonight did a story on him, where he had “allowed them into his private life”. The last question he was asked was “Where to from here?” He wanted to become Australia’s largest telco (or something along those lines).

The first thing that popped into my head when I saw that twitter was “check The Age“. The second was the parable spoken by Jesus in Luke 12:13-21. Not as a judgement of John Ilhan (I didn’t know him personally; by all accounts I’ve read he was a good & compassionate man), but as a reflection of the things that I sought to achieve for so long. John Ilhan seemed to have had all the good things most would aspire to; a wife and four kids, he reportedly had a personal fortune of $310 million dollars, a mansion in Brighton, was fit and healthy, exercised regularly. He had a heart attack while out walking in the early morning.

I’ve spent much of my life thus far reaching for more than I have. Caught up in the collective consumerist nightmare that most of us share. John Ilhan had already achieved that through determination and hard work. I wonder if he was happy? He seemed to be during his interview on Monday night. He spoke of spending nights sleeping on the floor of his shop while he was building his business; I didn’t sleep on the floor of either of my shops, but I came close. He succeeded where I chose to walk away. His hard work paid off for him, quite handsomely.

Now he’s gone, in the prime of his life (as they say). I guess that like any bereaved partner, his wife would give anything for just a few more minutes with him. If my life were suddenly over tomorrow, what would my legacy be? Could I look back and say that I lived a life worth living? Would my family be overjoyed at the time I spent with them, or regretful at the time I didn’t?

Sadly, I think that at this point in my life the answers would not be positive. Yesterday, I read an article in Newsweek that indicated that money “bought happiness” when moving some-one from “abject poverty” to “middle-class” but beyond that, there were diminishing returns on increasing wealth vs. happiness. Society is geared towards consumerism; making us unhappy with what we have and wanting something better. At this time in my life, I want for very little. I’m trying to learn to be thankful for, and satisfied with, the things I have; and to invest my time in the relationships I have with the people around me, for they are far more valuable than mere “stuff”.

The untimely death of John Ilhan reinforces this for me. At the end, whether you believe in an afterlife or not, the only things left behind for those who we love is the time and love we have given them. The stuff we had will rust and decay, but the time we invest in others can pay dividends far beyond our lifetime.

A precursor to my next post, I guess. I read Psalm 1 this morning during my … not-sure-what-to-call-it time; quiet time seems too trite, devotional time seems too clichéd. Verse 2 “but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night.” left me a bit thoughtful. I’m currently wrestling with how I feel about the Old Testament, the “law” if you will.

David was making a point, but if I’m no longer under law, but justified by faith (Gal 3:23-25), what use is it to me to meditate on the law? 

Fast forward a few hours, and I’m cleaning the bathroom, a little frustrated with a member of my family for the state it was left in (no names). As I cleaned, I was thinking about how best to deal with this person. This lead to me considering what the most Christ-like response would be, and whether that response should just be an attitude of servanthood. After all, I’ve left plenty of mess behind for others to clean up.

And then it hit me. I was meditating on the best way to be Christlike, and in that process found my attitude changed. So, I hope that makes sense.

However, I still need to carry through with it instead of just thinking about it. That’s just a little bit harder