Avril at Romsey

… and Lancefield and Riddells Creek and Mount Macedon

Micheal Gurr’s Days Like These

I haven’t written anything for a while because in the past three weeks I’ve had three funerals and a wedding. Anytime I haven’t been doing anything I’ve been slumped on the couch staring into space, because this ministry thing is hard work. It feels incredibly worthwhile and my sense of vocation has been confirmed one hundredfold, but these services have also confirmed just how exhausting ministry can be.

Yesterday was the third funeral, and for the first time I wasn’t finishing one funeral knowing that there was another one to prepare. So I’m hoping that I can now take a short break from burying people.

The wedding was amazing. I think I had a stupid, goofy grin on my face all the way through the service because I was so happy to be marrying these people to each other. They did pre-marital counselling with me, so I got to know them before marrying them, and their relationship is beautiful.

(And the groom started crying as he watched the bride walk down the aisle towards him.)

I’ve been reading Michael Gurr’s memoir, Days Like These, partly because it is a collection of vignettes and I could pick it up, read a page or so, and then put it down. There’s been no time to engage in serious narrative arcs recently. But I’ve also been reading it because it’s a great book and I strongly recommend it. And it’s always nice to have my prejudices confirmed:

I’m quite happy around old-fashioned Christians. I like the dagginess, the interest in the world – in small doses I can even take the holy stuff. What I like the most, though, is their lack of embarrassment about wanting to do good in the world. Christ seems to make them unashamed. New Testament parables are pretty straight-forward. Big nude ideas like justice and relief from suffering don’t seem to freeze on their lips like they freeze on the lips of the secular Left.

The new Christians, though, scare me with their smiling certainty. The Prosperity Gospel of the mall churches – that God wants you to have a bigger television – is just the latest import, of course, and it’s interesting how rarely you hear them talking about the poor, the downtrodden, the foolish and the ugly: all the people their prophet worried about.

Michael Gurr, Days Like These, Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2006, p. 281.


September 20, 2007 - Posted by | Ministry, Slightly Higher Culture


  1. No time for narrative arcs?? I’ve read several novels lately, one paragraph at a time, in the loo. I used to restrict loo-reading to newsletters, newspapers and the like, as it seemed somehow disrespectful to take a proper book into the smallest room in the house. But now it’s the only time and space I have alone, and very often, I’m dismayed to say, I am not alone even there, as there’s no *#%!~ lock on the door and there’s a short person who can now reach the handle. (I remember being secretly appalled when a friend confided that she had breastfed on the toilet … she’s not the only one!)
    But to return to matters literary (‘slightly higher culture’), I’ve just finished 44 Scotland Street and am about to start, at a friend’s recommendation, something I never expected to read: A Bed by the Window, a novel by M. Scott Peck.

    Comment by Olivia | September 20, 2007 | Reply

  2. hmm… despite being a little behind in my proper reading and ‘work’ (damn those essays!) I have found myself getting sucked right into the Tomorrow series by John Marsden.

    (It all started when I happened to be in KMArt on a “morning off” I gave myself a little while ago, looking for something light to read over coffee. I found the first of the Ellie Chronicles, not realising it was part of a series, and that the series itself was a sequel to the Tomorrow series. After reading that, and enjoying it, I figured I should start at the beginning and work my way back to this one before continuing)

    So now I have just finished “Tomorrow when the War Began” and am determined not to start the next one till my next two essays are finished. (Trooly… honest 🙂

    Comment by Caro | September 21, 2007 | Reply

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