Place | Botanic Gardens | Peek Whurrong country

They went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone. They were afraid, because … (Mark 16:8)

Easter morning 2020. Pre-dawn, Peek Whurrong country. A group of women appears, walking; one carries a bag with liturgical supplies. One by one, cars roll up, park, and turn off their lights. Figures emerge, hard to see in the shadows. Voices are hushed as people pick their way towards the nature play area, flitting between shadows and trees. Continue reading “Place | Botanic Gardens | Peek Whurrong country” →

Place | Industrial estate | Peek Whurrong country

We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labour pains until now … (Romans 8:22) + And straightaway the spirit drove him out into the wilderness. (Mark 1:12) 

We often think of the wilderness like a modern day national park, that is, somewhere without people. But this is a colonial view. Whether it’s the Amorites, the Jebusites, the Perizzites or the many peoples of the Eastern Maar nation, saying any land is empty erases the Indigenous peoples who have always walked and tended the earth; it is an act of genocide; it forgets that even national parks have been violently emptied. Continue reading “Place | Industrial estate | Peek Whurrong country” →

Matthew | Walking with fabulous friends and strangers against the forces of death

Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem resembles a pride parade, and our guy is a clown. (Listen.)

I know I’m not the only person here who finds the palm parade a little awkward, a little cringe-worthy. We look ridiculous, waving jackets and branches as we sing our way into the building. But compared to Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, it’s very tame indeed. Because in that story, you have a bloke on a wacky ride surrounded by a bunch of shirtless guys waving stuff and singing in public. It’s joyful, vulnerable, disruptive; and the modern equivalent which comes to mind is a pride parade. Continue reading “Matthew | Walking with fabulous friends and strangers against the forces of death” →

Place | Mount Noorat | Kirrae Whurrung country

Those who trust in the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall soar on wings like eagles. (Isaiah 40:31)

I took myself up Mt Noorat, one of the many sleeping volcanoes dotted around the landscape. Perhaps you know this walk: the stroll past eucalyptus trees; the short stiff climb to the first lookout for a quick breather. Then the scramble up the next slope and over the stile, and a longer pause at the top to catch your breath and look to Terang, Mt Leura, the plains stretched out like a vast undulating blanket. Then the rolling walk around the rim, as peeping birds flit around the grassy slopes and the wind whistles and sings. Continue reading “Place | Mount Noorat | Kirrae Whurrung country” →

Ezekiel | Dem dry colonial bones

A reflection for white settlers living on stolen land. (Listen.)

It’s tempting to reflect on the bones. The massacre site that is now a fast food restaurant just a couple of blocks from Sanctuary. The bones which still wash up from time to time on the beach near Peterborough. The babies’ bones buried six feet under at the missions. The bones which were scattered throughout the landscape, left to rot in every lake, valley and hollow, left lying in the paddocks to dry out in the sun. It’s tempting to focus on the bones: because our history and geography are studded with other people’s bones. Continue reading “Ezekiel | Dem dry colonial bones” →

Friends of the cross

For many live as enemies of the cross of Christ … (Phil. 3:18)

Saturday saw an appalling spectacle as British campaigner Kellie-Jane Keen, sitting member of Parliament Moira Deeming, and masked neo-Nazis performing the Nazi salute held an anti-trans rally on the steps of Parliament House. And so it was timely and perhaps spirit-led that Sunday’s reflection was a queered up reading of a well-known biblical text (here). Continue reading “Friends of the cross” →

Place | Scar tree | Djab Wurrung country

We are always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies. For while we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus may be made visible in our mortal flesh. (2 Corinthians 4:10-11)

When my mum was disabled by MS, I lost count of the number of good Christian folk who demanded to know whether we had ‘tried prayer’ to cure her. Now that I have my own health wobbles, I sometimes find it hard not to blame myself. The pernicious thoughts sneak in: ‘Is this the result of unhealthy choices? Too much stress? A lack of prayer?’ Never for anyone else, mind; just for myself. Continue reading “Place | Scar tree | Djab Wurrung country” →

John | Trans/forming

To encounter Jesus is to invite change. (Listen.)

The crowd was in uproar. ‘It’s him,’ some said. ‘Don’t be stupid!’ said others, ‘It’s just someone like him.’ ‘I’m still me,’ she said, ‘and this is what happened.’ But nobody was listening. Instead, the religious leaders weighed in. ‘He changed at church, but it’s totally against the Bible,’ said some. But others wondered; and so they were divided. Continue reading “John | Trans/forming” →

Place | Kelly’s Swamp | Peek Whurrong country

The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food in due season; you open your hand, satisfying the desire of every living thing. (Psalm 145:15-16)

When I drop my daughter at the stables, I look across the wetlands to the dunes. Between the weathered, flattened dunes are two perky dunes side by side. For all the world, they look like a young woman’s breasts. I prayer-dream a woman lying across the landscape. Her hair streams like kelp into the sea; her breasts rise among the dunes; her womb encompasses the fertility of the wetlands. Continue reading “Place | Kelly’s Swamp | Peek Whurrong country” →

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