WHAT IS IT about Christians that they think they can treat other believers with contempt, but not be held responsible for their own bad behaviour? Are we really meant to be all sweetness and angelic niceness towards those who abuse us?

Recently I lost my temper. It was not pretty. I was very angry with a guy, a Christian, who had, for the past twelve months, promised to do a job for me but who had no intention of doing it. When I decided to do the task myself, and was thoroughly enjoying myself, he was not happy. And I reacted, badly. His response was to tell me I was not a good Christian and that I was just having a bad day. I was not amused.

I wasn’t happy with my reaction to this guy. Although I wanted to respond appropriately – nicely – I also want to be real in how I relate to others. As I talked with God about the incident and how it was the authenticity of Jesus in his humanity that drew me to himself, I told him how my reality was not like his, my reality is not pretty. It is not neat or attractive, not like his. It is ugly. I was surprised and encouraged by his response:

“Not so, Irene. Do you think it was pretty when I raged against the tax collectors, the money changers in the temple, the Pharisees—those white sepulchred beings who destroyed my people with their religious lies and false teachings? There was nothing pretty about that.  Being real is often not pretty.”

That is so true. I baulk at being with church people who are all niceness, but who are not genuine. I long to be with fellow believers who are not afraid to acknowledge they’re finding life tough and who, by conceding that, are authentic in their walk with God.

God’s call to me is to be real, that I must be real so that those around me can see Christ in me—despite my failings. Jesus related to those around him with love and compassion, kindness and care and, at times, very assertively and forthrightly.  I have much to learn about living authentically for him.Jesus in the temple


This journey I’m on

GOD HAS ME on a fascinating journey, deconstructing my bigoted view of him and challenging me in a host of ways. I am deeply ashamed of the judgemental views I had absorbed over the years from fundamental churches.

Cloned sheepWhen Jesus spoke about having other sheep in another fold, I was sure they were those who did not believe as my church believed and that in time he would bring them into the one fold that I was in (John 10:14-18). I shake my head at that belief.

A verse that was a part of my early teachings was about all our righteousness and any good in us being as filthy rags. I learned that anything that was not done in the name of Christ was worthless (Isaiah 64:6). Despite the verse being taken out of context, it led to harshly judging people and dismissing any good they may have done as of no value.

As I reflected on these cruel teachings, I was in tears. What have we in the church done to the name of Jesus? What have I done, because, not overtly but in my heart, I have judged others for not being of my fold and believed the “good works” they were doing were, in the eyes of the church, worthless.

Over the decades I have balked at many teachings of the church, but when I tried raising issues with ministers I ended up being reprimanded and made to feel that I was critical and rebellious. They need to reread Ezekiel 34 and Matthew 23.

Once again I am reminded of the words of Jesus that he spoke to me so long ago:

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light (Matthew 11:28-30).




I SOMETIMES BECOME overwhelmed with the grandeur of my God, his awesomeness, majesty, might and power, and how, though Creator King, Maker of the Universe, he still has time for us mere mortals.

Shortly after the 2001 terrorist attacks in America, I began my morning community radio program with two songs: Bette Midler’s From a Distance, and The Bachelors’ I Believe. The first describes how God watches over us from a distance, the second that in the storms of life he hears our smallest prayers.

Psalm 8’s anthem of adoration to Almighty God captures the paradox that, while launching the sun, moon and stars into space, his thoughts were upon his people, making them a little lower than angels and crowning them with glory and honour (Psalm 8:5)

So many people have such a limited view of God, created according to their church’s creeds, their brand of biblical exegesis, according to their status in life or because of the unacceptable behaviour of those who claim to know him, but who fail miserably to demonstrate his reality. These restrictive images, the idols we make, leave little room for us to know God in all his glory or to experience the life and liberty he has for us.

On one of the many occasions when my life had fallen apart, I realised that the image I had of God, formed by restrictive church teachings, was far too small for the enormity of what I was going through. At my lowest point I decided to go back to the Gospels and learn for myself who Jesus is and what he really taught. It was a revelation like no other. Through him I experienced the reality of his love, grace and mercy and came to know his Father as my own. The words of an old hymn came to mind:Jesus

I stand amazed in the presence
Of Jesus the Nazarene,
And wonder how he could love me 
A sinner condemned, unclean
How marvellous! How wonderful!
And my song shall ever be:
How marvellous! How wonderful!
Is my Saviour’s love for me.



Embracing retirement

AFTER MUCH resistance I have finally accepted my need to embrace retirement and adjust to the changes it brings. This move has not been easy, made even more difficult because of the many complex challenges I have experienced throughout the seven decades of my life. However, I am at peace with this phase of my life and with the older woman I am, notwithstanding the profound sadness embedded in my soul that remains unresolved despite my many feeble attempts to address it. Whether that will ever be settled depends on others, and ultimately upon God.

As I reflect upon my life and the incredible journey I have been on, the places where I’ve lived – Darwin, Papua New Guinea, Israel, Outback Queensland – and the experiences I have encountered along the way as a writer, and social worker in a variety of settings including mental health services, palliative care and in the Outback, it would be so easy to dismiss the decades of intense psychological distress and resultant psychiatric care I went through for me to become the person I am.

Despite increased media attention in recent years, mental illness remains a taboo topic, shunted away in society’s psyche, its stigma preventing those experiencing it from accessing the support they need as they confront one of life’s greatest challenges. Regrettably, many people with mental health issues choose not to speak of them preferring instead to pretend all is well when it is not.

For me to “forget” my dreadful difficulties would be to present a picture of an idyllic, hassle free life, which would be a lie. To remember is fraught with its own challenges, not the least of which is to be misunderstood and judged by those whose lives have been relatively simple and problem free.I simply am2

Throughout my life my heart’s cry has been that I want to be real. And to be that I must accept my whole being, warts and all. Not perfect, by any means, but at the very least a person of worth and value – just like everyone else.


AS I HAVE continued to mull over what authentic Christian living means, my thoughts turned to the words of the apostle Peter:

    To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example,             that you should follow in his steps (1 Peter 2:21, New International Version).

Those words reminded me of the Christian classic, In His Steps, written by Charles Sheldon in the late nineteenth century. In it he relates the story of Reverend Henry Maxwell who challenges his upper middle class congregants to live as Jesus would live, asking themselves before they did anything, “What would Jesus do?”

Over the following twelve months the impact upon those who accepted the call, upon the church and community was outstandingly revolutionary. The impact of such a challenge illustrated vividly what authentic Christian living really means. There would be a similar response today if all church people accepted such a call.

Several issues struck me about this story. Individuals were encouraged to respond to this call for themselves in their unique situations without basing their decisions on what others thought and without judging others for how they may or may not have responded.   Christians were challenged to consider Jesus in every aspect of their lives: their work ethic, relationships, finances, community and church involvement. The issue delved deep into the core of one’s faith, just as it would for us today.

It is no secret that I struggle with today’s institutionalised church. So much of what I have experienced has been detrimental to my mental, emotional and spiritual well being—it is impossible to share the full extent of what all but destroyed me, so disturbing was its enormity. And yet, despite all I have been through, my faith in God has remained strong. I value significant interaction with fellow believers; I crave meaningful Christian conversation, and I thrive on solid godly teaching.

Since picking up In His Steps, and as I seek to live each day for him, I have begun to ask myself the question—“What would Jesus do?”  This is just the beginning of a fresh phase in my life; one I trust will become life enriching for myself and for those around me.

                       To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you,                                                        leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.

Burned out on religion?

MANY YEARS AGO I came across a print of Jesus, a painting by Twentieth Century artist, Richard Hook. What captured my attention was how the eyes of Jesus followed me around the room, gazing upon me regardless of where I sat. I saw in that image the love of God, the gentleness of Jesus and his invitation for us to “Come, follow me.”

Somebody once told me my faith in God is too simplistic, that there is more to him than simply accepting Jesus as Saviour and seeking to live for him. In a sense that is very true, but in another way it is not.

I am deeply concerned at how the Church makes it so difficult for the average person to understand anything about God. While some churches preach the simple gospel message, others add a mish-mash of rules and regulations that people must obey in order to become members of a particular congregation. That is not God.

As much as I try, I cannot escape the simple – yet profound – message of our Saviour. Once we grasp his invitation and begin to learn about him and the life he led here on earth, a whole new world opens up – we begin to experience a profound peace and freedom and can enjoy life to the full, as God intends:

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life” (Matthew 11:28, The Message).






To be like Jesus

One of the attributes that attracted me to Jesus was his love of people on the edge of society, those who others regarded as untouchable and unlovable. He willingly reached out and touched the leper, the woman who had been haemorrhaging for years and who was considered unclean by Jewish law, the lame, the blind and those possessed by evil spirits. He embraced everyone in their uniqueness, regardless of their situation, with compassion, kindness and care.

Many years ago when my life disintegrated into utter chaos, I believed myself to be something akin to a leper. So great was the devastation of my soul that I regarded myself as nothing but excreta fit only to be flushed down life’s sewers.

At the time the church I attended was opening its grand new premises on the outskirts of Brisbane. Such was my despair that I pictured myself as a leper dressed in filthy rags squatting outside the gates of that magnificent complex crying out, “Unclean! Unclean!”

Nobody in that place knew what I was going through.  I have come a long way since then.  However, I have never forgotten what it feels like to be a leper.

It is time for those of us who call ourselves followers of Jesus—whether we go to church or not—to reach out to those around us who feel vulnerable, alone and lonely.

We are all called to be like Jesus and to follow in his steps (1 Peter 2:21).