Toowoomba and a "Cheers" Theology

September 19th, 2006 Bridgewater Apartments, Brisbane, Australia
Saturday night (the 16th) there was a music festival across the Story Bridge. Quite a few people wanted to go. I decided to check it out, partly out of curiosity, and partly because I didn’t really like the idea of a bunch of girls going to this sort of thing by themselves. I’m not implying girls cannot take care of themselves, but why not be safe? Besides, the guys had been asked by the professors to accompany girls in this sort of situation. We climbed up the steps of the bridge and walked across to the Valley, which was a collection of plazas and clubs, where hundreds of people were gathered. My previous thoughts concerning the early-evening drunkenness are relevant here as well. It was an interesting place, but I’m not always gung-ho about these ridiculously-loud-for-no-apparent-reason places with people acting ridiculous. I enjoy it for a time, but I prefer different types of music festivals. I stayed for most of one group’s performance. They were good. It was a Simon and Garfunkel kind of style: two guys playing guitars and singing. One guy looked like a cross between Sean Penn and Bob Dylan and the other guy looked like Jim Morrison and Braveheart. After awhile, I got tired of standing there. Some of the other guys had recently come over, so I left and headed back towards the Bridgewater Apartments. I love the city at night. Walking across that bridge with the city lit up on all sides is an unusually peaceful feeling. I broke into a run and raced across the bridge.

Church the next morning (the 17th) was at Toowoomba…..two hours away. We climbed on the bus at 7 o’clock, which is not usually my preferred time to be anyway except between a blanket and a mattress. Needless to say (but, of course, I’ll say it anyways) I slept the whole way there.
It was a friendly church, larger in member size than the Cleveland congregation. I enjoyed the setting of the place. A young man named Richie from the Philippines, who had become a member of the Church of Christ two years ago, spoke. I can’t say I was overly impressed with the content of his message, but I appreciated his effort and the energy he possessed. It was an enjoyable place.
Lunch was at Picnic Point. I could’ve have punched myself (I think I actually did) for not bringing my camera. I just didn’t think to bring it when we’re going to an absolutely gorgeous location. There was a sort of lodge set up there where we had a variety of sandwiches and fruit with an impressive view of the vista. As soon as I finished eating, I broke away and found my way down beneath the fenced walkway to a path which ran around the side of the immense embankment which led down to the valley below. In the valley rose hills not too dissimilar to the Glasshouse Mountains. After awhile, I couldn’t take it anyway: I ditched the path and jumped into the woods. I felt reenergized and rejuvenated and revived and all those words with the suffix –re. I love forests. I feel such a sense of peace and contentment among trees and hills and basically all forms of nature. I crawled all over the steep and vast bank, which was possibly dangerous, but I had my boots on and I’m from Tennessee…….don’t know exactly what that means, but it means something. By the time I emerged from the depths of the woods I was a dirty, tired, very satisfied person. Many of the trees were covered in black ash (presumably from a fire of some sort, which I thought was an admirable deduction). Streaks of it covered my jeans and some of it had rubbed off on my jacket. I considered leaving it on the jacket, because having ash stains from trees in Australia is just really cool. But I was informed by a lot of people it would be trashy, so I was once again handed over for washing that evening. Sigh.
That evening was spent researching some for a presentation in International Studies and studying for Psychology and Sociology. We might have watched Star Wars: Episode II, but everything’s a blur. I think I had Fruit Loops for dinner, and maybe a peanut butter and honey sandwich.

Yesterday (the 18th) we only attended Dr. Byram’s classes. And we had tests. I’m not particularly an advocate of having tests in those classes on the same day. That’s a lot of material we’re covering. I think we even have the next tests later this week on the following three chapters.
After chapel I went for a run, which was followed by a little more research and reading the next chapter in both of Dr. Byram’s classes. I went for a walk that night and showed a few people a video entitled Hunted 3 my friends and I made back home two-and-a-half years ago. Genius, if I may say so. I stayed up late talking with Derek. We talked for around two hours. I very much enjoyed that time. He’s a very thoughtful person. He said he was in Chemistry with Caleb Meeks, which I thought was a neat coincidence. We talked about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness (perhaps not the middle on necessarily). He’s quite a guy. He has a way of thinking to which I can relate. Although we didn’t completely agree on everything, we have similar thoughts to an extent. I found that encouraging.

Dr. Byram’s classes were once again first this morning. I enjoy the class sessions, it’s just the tests and constant reading and papers I’m not so avid about. Rich’s classes were once again good. Missionary Anthropology is shaping up to be the best Bible class I’ve had. Today was about the idea of church. Most people, when asked about their church, tend to respond in terms of its beliefs and practices and programs. Church, he said, is one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread. Church is family. He described a “Cheers-theology.” He wrote out the theme song to the classic sitcom “Cheers” and said, “This is what church should be. Where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came.” In many ways, we’ve lost that. We don’t have the openness and accountability and closeness in churches that should be there. This is why I loved Covenant Fellowship in Searcy so much. It wasn’t because I agreed with everything taught, but it was because it was a family and people were incredibly open with everyone! BOA was that to me. The Wednesday night meetings back home, where we had people from very diverse backgrounds (Methodist, Mennonite, Calvinist, Christian Church, Church of Christ) and everyone knew everybody’s name. I’m thankful I have had those church experiences, because I’m not sure many people have. There is such a need for accountability and real, sincere family-like relationships in churches now. The rifts between denominations are sickening. And I’m wearing a hole in my soapbox, so I’ll step down for now.
I ran after class and then played football with some of the group beneath Story Bridge. Thankfully we only played two-hand-touch this time, because I was tired after running four miles. I showered and then went down to visit with Rich for awhile. We talked about the class and about a few conversations with people I’ve had recently. Anytime I feel confused about traditional beliefs and doctrinal issues, I feel comfort in knowing I can find Jesus with “the least of these”: with the poor and the sick and the helpless. Rich pointed out that instead of trying so hard to work theology out, we should let theology work us out. And a good theology is “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind; and love your neighbor as yourself.” I agreed. As St. Augustine said, “Preach the Gospel, and if necessary use words.” I think this statement eliminates some of the dearly held doctrine we as humans think are so important and essential. I get the feeling Jesus was/is more concerned with whether or not we are doing what he would have done (helping those in need) than whether or not we have everything right. But I could be wrong. I’m not perfect.
We had a showing of Rabbit-Proof Fence in the Common Room tonight. I had seen it before, and it’s just as depressing and moving the second time. It deals with the taking of Australian Aboriginal children from their homes and putting them in camps where they are taught to be like Europeans, to make them “educated” and “civilized.” It is the story of three girls who escape and make their way home, traveling for nine weeks. I highly recommend this movie. One of the saddest parts of the movie is that the Chief Protector of the Aborigines was not really a bad person: he actually believed what he was doing was right and helpful for these people. His problem was he was an idiot. It’s one of those movies (like one of Steven Spielberg’s masterpieces Amistad) that make you feel ashamed to be white. And this is appropriate at times.
I’m getting tired and I was told there was some cheesecake somewhere with my name on it.

PS I unfortunately have no pictures to post for this entry. However, I will be taking more pictures of the city and the like very soon.