More than conquerors

Week 13 (at least) of the State mandated lockdown in South Africa.

I barely remember what things were like before. Life resembles a movie…several spring to mind: ‘1984’, ‘Contagion’.

I’m more worried about what other people might be going through than I am personally, people losing jobs and livelihoods, people hungry, people who’s suffering doesn’t serve a narrative favourable to the politically powerful or politically correct – or both, suffering out of the public consciousness.

There is the promise in Scripture that nothing, however distasteful or painful, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ.

More than conquerors in a war that’s bigger than us

Having to attend the local traffic department, wait 4 hours in a queue, be processed like meat was my lowest point this week. And yet, Romans 8 reveals that this experience did not separate me from God’s love.

Four and a half hours interacting with a government department, I left feeling like a part of my soul was sucked dry

Four and a half hours interacting with a government department, I left feeling like a part of my soul was sucked dry
I was walking this week, thinking about that part of the Sermon on the Mount where Jesus tells the audience to look at how the Father provides for birds, comparing this to the greater care he has for people.

Birds seem to be making a better fist of it than people. Birds don’t put other birds in prison, or cancel them for holding different opinions, or make them stand in queues and tax them, or judge them by their different feathers.

Compositionally and aesthetically pleasing, this created work begs a picture

I was struggling to understand what it is about people that is worth saving. Suffice it to say that the Father views human beings with an incomprehensible grace. And having set his love on us, that love trumps any situation that we can’t understand and that causes us the most profound pain.

Lemon tree growing towards the sun

I don’t feel it, but I know it to be true. There is beauty in the humble back yard, there is His grace every morning. There is family and faith. And a conquering church that keeps on going.

Shoofly pie, or Future glory

For a taste of Pennsylvania – and because baking is fun – my wife made a Shoofly pie for the first time ever.

Pennsylvania’s finest

It was as good as I remember it, with generous dollops of whipped cream. It’s just a pity that we ate it in the midst of what some reckon is the longest continuous lockdown in the world.


I’m still ruminating on Paul’s letter to the Romans, the eighth chapter now. Paul’s subject matter is vast and epic. All the way from the first chapter where he describes what the gospel is, that we can’t be right with God except in faith, where he describes the hopeless natural and moral condition of man, to the constant moral battle that is fought in the mind to choose what is right and reject what is wrong.


And now from the part where Paul has told us what’s happened, to describing how to practically live now that we know what’s happened. The latter part of Romans gets into more practicalities.


Living by the Spirit is as practical as the examination of the subject in theory. The Holy Spirit works in the world and more particularly works in the Christian’s life to transform theology into practice. I can think of no more practical thing He does.


He tells us that we are the Father’s children. We are loved, taken care of.


We are heirs and co-heirs, with a stupendous inheritance. John Piper lists our inheritance. We:


  • Will inherit the earth
  • Know God himself, and will be in his presence and will see his glory
  • Can look forward to new bodies


We are heirs and co-heirs, with a stupendous inheritance. But we have to go through suffering in order to get to the ultimate good stuff.


Like having Shoofly pie to look forward to but you can’t enjoy it yet because you have a tooth-ache, or you’re too full of afternoon tea and can’t have another bite. Or any one of a number of reasons that you can’t enjoy it yet.


Paul writes that he considers the sufferings we go through are not worthy to be compared with the glory that awaits us. This is one of those times where I think I understand what Paul is saying, but I’m unsure how to get my heart over the line.


Its a package deal. Suffering preceding glory.

John Piper explains that “the reason the calamities and conflicts of the world exist is because God subjected the natural world to futility. God put the natural world under a curse, so that the physical horrors of that curse, of that futility, of that corruption, the physical horrors, disease and death, would become a vivid picture — parable — of the horrors of moral evil, sin. In other words, natural evil exists in the world as a signpost, a parable of the horrors of moral evil.”


So, to get to the Shoofly pie, I have to first eat a big old mud pie with gristle and twigs. The stomach heaves.


So, I can’t get my heart over the line, and my stomach is green and tender and won’t come with. All I’ve got is a package deal and a mind that vacillates. And the imperative that I can’t just lie down, but have to put one more foot forward today.


And another one tomorrow.


And another foot the next. Such is the nature of faith and because we follow him.

Living in the Spirit

No matter how weary I become, how empty the tank, the dichotomy between the flesh and the spirit is apparent.


None more so than during an extended, mandated lockdown.


Citizen Sean has a tank where freedom, rights and civic duties slosh around, and at the moment is in danger of bottoming out.


Physical Sean has a tank for fitness levels and general effervescence and that level is trending in the wrong direction.


Sean’s brain has endured an intellectual devolution, snacking on mind junk-food and being exposed to propaganda and copious amounts of fear-mongering from the mainstream media.


Levels are low across the board. But not my flesh, the sinful nature that snipes from a place of spite and rebellion. Nope, levels are still high there. Memes and mockery are swirling in a creative storm.


No matter how weary I become, I notice that my flesh (sinful nature) is self-fueling and in inexhaustible supply.


I’m still in Romans chapter 8: Paul has explained how we’re no longer living the old way of flesh and condemnation, but in the Spirit.


There is a dichotomy between the flesh and the Spirit and my mind is where the tension is resolved. Paul uses the previous chapter of Romans to paint a picture of the tension.


This Sunday just past was Pentecost. It’s not merely a stop on the calendar between Easter and Christmas. Without the Holy Spirit falling on the disciples in the upper room, would there be a church? Not one full of power. How would any of us be able to spread the gospel without the Holy Spirit?


This is central to what Paul is saying in this part of Romans. We cannot live the Christian life in the flesh, which is to say in our natural abilities. The Holy Spirit is central to the Christian life. Without living in the Spirit, we’d be no better than self-righteous and sin-destined Pharisees.

Sounds simple. So, how exactly do you tell the flesh where to get off? The flesh is sneakier than a criminal springing a surprise attack with a knife fight in a dark alley. Paul writes: “by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body…” (8:13, NIV)


The Holy Spirit doesn’t get into knife fights. The commentary I consulted seems to be dove-tail with my experience that He works by consistent, daily subtle influence in our lives.


Living in the Spirit requires us making time and space for the Holy Spirit to work in us…


  • Coming back to the foot of the cross
  • Confessing our sins
  • Engaging in prayer
  • Renewing our mind
  • Praising
  • Seeking to be filled with the Spirit…


In a later verse Paul reminds us that those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God (8:14, NIV).


As children, we are filled with the Holy Spirit, and he leads us. The Holy Spirit doesn’t manipulate, or coerce, or push, He leads. Since we are connected so fundamentally to God by His Spirit, and are made aware by the Spirit that we are His children, it is natural (or should I say supernatural) for Him to lead us.


I can’t conceive of a time when He is not leading us.


My experience is that when the flesh (sinful nature) knifes me in the back, my inner ear starts resonating with what He is saying, reminding me of my sonship, calling me back.


I can’t do it. I really can’t.


But He can.


Since we are not allowed to go anywhere for fun upon pain of being confronted by zealous inquisitors, and since the thought of an inquisition evokes the country of Spain, I’m reminded of this past week in Lock-down, day #40-something:

I had gathered some clips from the internet of people having recorded their tour of various places: Central Park, the Eiffel tower, the Bronx Zoo, Madame Tussauds in London. We did in a mini world tour over the weekend, transported thousands of miles by the wonders of television.

I saw the inside of the Vatican for the first time, and sat back to watch some Kiwi take the audience on a tour of Madrid. The tour of Madrid was actually the most interesting part of our travels. Old architecture, Moorish battles, Christian castles, restaurants that are hundreds of years old, authors being beheaded, and a visit to the presumed last resting place of Miguel de Cervantes. Presumed, because as the Kiwi guide mentioned many times, ‘we lose bodies in Madrid’.

I’d never read Cervantes’ most famous work: ‘Don Qixote de la Mancha’. According to a summary I read online, Don Qixote reads a surfeit of romantic books and gets the incredibly idealistic notion that he is a knight involved in a great quest.

The novel could have been called The Great Pretender. Except that the conceit is precisely that Don Qixote actually believes that he is a knight. His knightly exploits result in essentially nothing. The world isn’t changed, people aren’t rescued from situations, real or imagined. And Don Qixote is the recipient of regular beating as a result of sticking his nose in other peoples’ business.

In this lockdown, I have been far from my best. I imagine most of us are extremely uncomfortable. As my formative study years were involved with the idea that the press is the 4th estate, holding those in political power to account, I cannot help but enter the fray, with a few ideas and comments to counteract the banality of those who accept things as the way they are because they cannot be changed.

Like a pathetic Don Qixote, my knightly forays into social media and the Twitterverse stand at odds with the world the way it is, unmoved by my mountain of words. I have this idealistic notion that whether my words change a single thing or not, some things need to be said.

For the record.

My devotions have been infrequent. Prayer, which Scripture says changes things far more effectively than my words, has been a stranger to my cracked lips. Dry and underutilized in supplication.

I have not looked to Him to establish the proper order on His earth and hold the powerfully corrupt to account. He moves slower than I would like.

And then I hear the news that the great apologist Ravi Zacharias has succumbed to cancer. Snapped back to reality. I have not seen His hand for many days in this place. And then I see His hand in the life of Ravi.

Fire in the sky

I think of Moses with the flocks of Jethro that he led at the foot of Horeb, doing his regular work as a shepherd:


Doing his thing, tending to the sheep of his father-in-law, probably taking them on a grazing circuit that was quite familiar, to the mountain and back, maybe in a loop, maybe in a figure-8 if the mood struck him.


In open terrain, flame is very apparent, so Moses investigated, and found that the signs of fire were there but the bush was not being consumed. The Lord got Moses’ attention:


When the Lord saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, “Moses! Moses!”

And Moses said, “Here I am.”

“Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” (Exodus 3, NIV)

In this desert of a lockdown, personally and constitutionally grieved at the God-given natural law that is being curtailed by temporal authorities, I looked at the life of Ravi, and the passing of Ravi, and I approached and found that God is even there in the place I was looking.


Holy ground. Because God is in this place.


His presence is in Lockdown Day #54. I hadn’t even noticed before.

God had called his servant Ravi home and was still on His throne.


Misty morning in May

Reading a Bible study recently (YouVersion: Christ > Corona by Mike Novotny), the author pointed to Psalms 90 and 91.


If you read Psalm 90 and then read Psalm 91 directly afterwards, the juxtaposition is very interesting and worth consideration in the times we are going through.


In Psalm 90, the writer advises us to consider our mortality and realise that we have to return to dust, that God is fully aware of our moral debt and that we should ‘number our days’. The Psalmist asks God to have compassion.


In Psalm 91, the writer seeks God’s protection during a time of danger. The Psalmist mentions poisonous snakes, presumably hungry and angry lions and plague with ten thousand falling into death’s sigh. Basically a pandemic.


“9 If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,”
and you make the Most High your dwelling,
10 no harm will overtake you,
no disaster will come near your tent.” (Psalm 91, NIV)


It would be superficial to suggest that God will never let His people suffer from snakes, lions, pandemics or any other danger.


Psalm 90 is as true as Psalm 91. We should number our days and seek His protection.


The promise that no harm will befall the Believer is not a blanket promise of no death from pandemic, however that the child of God is habitually delivered from such dangers.


This is inspired poetry and when the Psalmist writes that no disaster will come near the tent of the Believer, I think of Paul the apostle.


Paul, a tent-maker by profession, using what he knows – his day job – to illustrate the frailty of flesh, and in the midst of that the hope of the Christian.


Our bodies are temporary dwellings. The older we get the more we realise this. There’s only so much you can patch a tent, but what I do take from Psalm 91 is that God is intimately concerned with our welfare and the best thing we can do, in danger or not, is to seek Him.

The year that was April

I’ve stopped counting the days in the lockdown. It was fun for 3 weeks but then it just got ridiculous. The novelty wore off.

Another numberless morning

Anecdotally, I’ve seen more South African flags on display: on a table in a living room when driving past, on a flag pole three doors down from us. Presumably, people are seeing themselves as part of something bigger, a national effort to pull in one direction and be good citizens.

Braai without fresh rugby is sad

Personally, I think the national honeymoon is about at an end. It was never going to last longer than a month. As someone who has a libertarian orientation when it comes to civil rights, it’s been difficult to read about some of the things going on.

‘Tjop’ with no ‘dop’

There’s been a basic struggle going on in the street that has nothing to do with us human beings. Crows versus squirrels. The collective noun for squirrels is apparently a dray or a colony, or alternatively a scurry.

Scrat on the lookout for yet more pecan nuts

I like that. It’s been a scurry of squirrels versus a murder of crows. Moves and countermoves. The squirrels have been thorough in  collecting the pecan nuts from the tree next door and avoiding the crows. The crows got one of them this past fortnight (or week; I’m not sure as I’ve totally lost track of the accurate passage of time). They ate up the kill really fast.


At least two are left that we’ve been able to count: one with a truncated tail we call ‘Stumpy’ and another I call ‘Scrat’.


Social media (Twitter) is a dumpster fire of emotion and vitriol and you can see where people’s heads are at. It’s not pretty but at times perversely entertaining. We are not in our right minds.

Something something electrons

It feels strange not to get in the vehicle and go to work or church. I actually started a Bible study on YouVersion one morning recently, and it actually felt like an occasion. My normal day is work, leisure screen time, eating and sleeping; doing things to pass the time but without real enjoyment.

Lekker slaai


Daily bread

I need to get stuck into that Bible study again. I’ll tell you about it sometime. I have the time but the motivation is still in first gear.


Days of lockdown: 24

Days until lockdown ends (theoretically): 12


That means that we’re 66.67% of the way there.


Tests conducted: 108,021

Positive cases: 3,034

Deaths: 52


That’s a mortality rate of 0.017%.


There’s a calculus to this pandemic and the way the authorities are handling it. It’s a numbers game.


Random numbers, random patterns, fun and games


The data plotted on a graph with ‘x’ and ‘y’ axes amounts to a curve. The curve must be flattened by social distancing. Not necessarily to save lives, but to save available hospital beds and medical care.


We all know these things.


The great Albert Einstein was credited with saying that ‘not everything that can be counted, counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.’


Craving fresh fruit


People are caring for one another. But equally, people are snitching on one another and using the pandemic as a pretext to settle social justice scores. That’s something you can’t plot on a graph or quantify with numbers.


Frequent coffee


Too many people killed by over-officious and zealous police and soldiers.


Human beings excluded from financial help because of their race.


The psychological cost of social isolation creeping unawares on ordinary people locked in their homes with the threat of fines and arrest.


The anxiety of people facing an abrupt halt to their ability to provide for their families.


The sun going down on Day 20, wishing it would go down on the lock-down


The virus is a numbers game but what the human condition means is that we bring to it the same ingredients that were there before, the stuff that is already baked into the cake. And the human condition (including my own) means that there are glimpses of things to be positive about, but truck loads of things to be negative about.


The family kettle getting a work-out


Only God’s working causes the equation to balance for the good.

A very different Easter

Hulk Hogan, former wrestling personality, cheesy ‘actor’ and handlebar moustache aficionado.


Yeah, that guy.


He wrote (in part) the following, about the whole pandemic:


“God has taken away everything we worship. God said, “you want to worship athletes, I will shut down the stadiums. You want to worship musicians, I will shut down Civic Centers. You want to worship actors, I will shut down theaters. You want to worship money, I will shut down the economy and collapse the stock market. ”


While referencing the plagues of Egypt out of context, Hogan is correct that this Corona virus pandemic is depriving us of things we’ve taken for granted, and possibly even things we worship in place of God. He writes that with our distractions removed from us that we should put our focus on Christ.


Profound for a lowly wrestler. His salient point is that in the midst of all that is going on, and all that isn’t going on, that we should fix our eyes on Christ and our relationship to Him.


I can’t even think about two weeks from now.

A reminder of the sacrifice

It’s Good Friday and Sunday’s on the way.

The suffering servant

Made for each other

Lockdown week 2

Literally counting the days
I’ve not been as reflective of the lockdown as this swimming pool is of the moon, just counting days.
Night falls
Communion with cyber-church
Sometimes, it’s really good to be a South African
Two days of rain, reflective of His common grace…he sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous
Serene morning…coffee and a view
Evening, then morning. The circadian rhythm persists as He established and His creation experiences it


Braai time
Castle by the casa
Raak vir my rustig
Seeing more of the garden than usual
Foxes have holes and birds have nests…
A bug’s life
No reason change out of PJ’s
Essential equipment for dealing with the lock-down
Birthday cake
A strange juxtaposition…what would it taste like? And would the wine be rendered rainbow-coloured?
Never fails to get a laugh
Did you also see the toilet rolls in the shot? Topical in the time of Covid-19