Meleney's Stained Glass Window on the World: The difference between rich people and poor people...

Meleney's Stained Glass Window on the World: The difference between rich people and poor people...: I have noticed an interesting phenomenon in my work and life.  I work in an informal settlement, a so-called squatter camp.  We've been ...

The difference between rich people and poor people

I have noticed an interesting phenomenon in my work and life.  I work in an informal settlement, a so-called squatter camp.  We've been told it is politically incorrect to call it a squatter camp.  So tell that to the people who live there.  They don't call it an 'informal settlement'.  They call it a squatter camp.

I have noticed something in the children that come to our School Readiness Day Camp - these are kids from the community that are not in our ECD center "Viva Kids". I noticed they don't know how old they are.  When asked, they cannot show their age, with their fingers.  I started connecting some dots and here is my theory:  It is because they are not celebrated as individuals.  Nothing happens when they go from 2, to 3, for them to have marked the occasion.  There is no money for a party, when the whole family doesn't have enough food.   Furthermore, individuals and individuality are not celebrated.

Among poor people, the community identity comes before the individual identity.  They think as a community, they act as a community and they even vote as a community.  One individual will not stand on his own rights, until the frustration in the whole community boils over, at which point the whole community will use their only recourse and express their frustration in a tangible way.  They don't sue the pants of the municipality, they burn the assets of the municipality.  They don't write letters to their Councillor, (who lives in a golf estate and only shows up before elections), they turn his bakkie up-side down.  The collective identity comes before the individual identity.  The individual lacks volition and waits for a solution from without, not from within his/her own heart and mind.

For this reason, I also believe that individuals from within pressurized communities, rally behind those from their ranks who do know how to stand on their individual rights.  The Mandela's and alas, the Malemas.

Not so among rich people.  Rich people have learnt from the cradle, to stand on their rights and fight for what is theirs, strive for what they want.  They have a strongly developed individual identity.  If they are unhappy, they fight for their own rights.  They sue, they write letters, they shout and they threaten and take to social media and tell the world how every injustice, real or perceived, have personally inconvenienced them.  They judge themselves by their intentions and others by their actions.  For instance, if a rich man needs to take a gap in the traffic, he knows he is not doing it because he is evil, but because he is in a hurry.  His intentions are good.  However, if someone else cuts in front of him, he judges the action as evil.  He takes it personally.  He does not consider that the gap-taker is a person like him, who sometimes does something stupid, or selfish, in traffic.

Rich children know how old they are.  They know what they got for their last birthday and they can remember what happened when they went from age 5 to age 6.  They also know exactly what they want for their next birthday.  They are taught from birth to develop as individuals.

The problem is that rich people have no community identity.  They don't know who lives in their street, they don't hang around with their neighbours.  They live behind high walls and they watch other people through TV monitors, as opposed to standing on the street on a warm evening, laughing and chatting to friends who also wait for a taxi.  They will never go to a squatter camp, because they believe if you walk into a squatter camp, you die!  I don't know what they think you die from, but you are dead!!  You wont last 10 minutes in a squatter camp.  They think this, because they believe everybody's housekeeper, driver, delivery 'boy', builder, news-paper salesman, hair-salon shampoo lady, office block cleaner, somehow transforms when they are home and if they see a rich person on their turf, they zombie-kill them on the spot.  And then tomorrow morning they take the taxi to work in the city and become normal again.  This is why they don't go to squatter camps.  It's the only plausible explanation I can come up, for the phenomenon of people not going into squatter camps.

So while it is not good that poor people do not fully develop their own individual potential, it is equally bad that rich people do not develop a community identity.

What is the solution?  Rich people need to warm up to their neighbours and develop a respect and love for community.  And poor people need to develop their individuality and volition - their self-drive.

What we need is strong communities, comprising of strong individuals.  We don't need followers, we need leaders, because ultimately, it is not a rich/poor thing.  For poverty, as riches, is very relative. People whom we might perceive as 'rich', because they live in a big house and drive several expensive cars, can be poorer than poor.  They may be in debt, under severe strain and without meaningful relationships.  I've seen a quote:  "Some people are so poor, all they have is money".  I think what makes people poor is that they don't know who they are and they don't belong to a community.  And that, makes all of us paupers.

Why I have fallen out of love with the institution called Church

Let me begin by saying what I am NOT saying:  I am not saying that I have fallen out of love with Church.  I haven't.  I love Church.  Church is the Bride-to-be of Jesus.  Church is the living organism of people who believe, regardless of denomination, or doctrine or dogma.  Church is the coming together of people - the communion, the unity of community.  It is fellowship.  Two fellows in a ship.  I love Church.

I'm also not saying that I have fallen out of love with church buildings.  If you close your eyes when I say "Church" and you see a steeple... I'm not talking about that.  I love church buildings.

I have fallen way out of love with the Institution.  And here's why:  The Church was never meant to be an Institution.  And just as everything that becomes what it wasn't meant to be, the Institution of Church has become ugly and nasty.  The Church has drifted far, far away from the body of believers that it once was.  The Institution of Church is oppressive, arrogant and blind.  It thinks it knows everything,  It thinks it has exclusive rights to the Truth, to God's Presence, to Biblical Authority, to Christianity itself.

This institutionalization of Church is a rot that creeps.  It is a yeast that spreads.  It is subtle and pervasive until it is no longer subtle, but blatant and angry.  It is possible for a little bit of institutionalization to pervade good Churches.  When you see it, don't be quiet.  The institutionalization is devoid of common sense and Godly love.  It perverts even love and believes that love is justification for oppression.

The apostle Paul once spoke to a group of believers and said:  Who has bewitched you?  You started so well, how did you get from there to here?  If you think I am talking about the Super Institutions like the Vatican, think again.  I've seen the institutionalization crawling into all churches, even the modern ones, the 'free' ones, the 'faith' ones, the 'charismatic' and 'Pentecostal' ones.  The ones in the 'renewal'.  As soon as people begin to celebrate themselves, they begin to tell others how to live instead of showing them, they begin to judge and stop inviting.  They become harsh on everyone but themselves.  They stand even above their own word.  They may go back on promises, they may change their minds, they may demand instead of give.  Bewitched.  They started well and look where they are now.  Their leaders don't resemble Jesus.  Not even a bit.

And that brings me to the main reason why I have fallen out of love with this institution call Church.  People in the Institution of Church no longer feel it is a requirement to at least try and be like Jesus.  The Church started so well.  A band of followers of Jesus.  People who believed that being a Christian is all about imitating Christ.  In fact, it was not the Christians who first called themselves Christians.  Others began noticing that they were like the crucified Christ.  They heard them speak of Him and like Him.  They saw the works that He did, now performed by this ordinary band of followers, this community, this fellowship.

I meet people who hate Christians and Churches, but still revere Jesus.  People know what He stood for.  People respect God and they see that His Church does not resemble Him.  That is what they hate most and that is why I fell out of love.

I see beautiful things being done by beautiful people, in the name of this beautiful Jesus... but out there.  Outside in the world.  Not in the Institution, but outside of it.  Out there in the world that He so loved.

My Story

My involvement in Rape Response and activism against rape and gender-based violence is becoming a very big part of my dealings with people from day to day and I feel it is time that I tell my own story. 

When I was 5 years old, my parents got divorced and my late mother had to move with her 4 children from Venterstad (near Colesberg in the Northern Cape) to Bloemfontein.  She acquired a duplex flat from the municipality, for twenty two Rand a month, in a poor neighborhood and while she and my older siblings moved in, I was sent to my uncle and aunt in a small town, Jagersfontein, for the holiday, before I would be placed in school in January 1971 (a year too early).  

I used to like visiting them, because my uncle had a candy floss machine. They did not have daughters, so we were usually spoiled rotten there.  My uncle also had a monkey, Felix that lived on a pole in his backyard.  

I slept in a room across the hall from their room, on a double bed.  There was pornography in the cupboard in that room, which was a very big deal, as pornography was illegal in South Africa at the time and I had never seen anything like that.  In those days, you did not even see underwear in magazines and very definitely not in the magazines my mom used to read! My brothers had copies of the Scope magazine in their room, but these only showed women with large breasts in skimpy swim-suits.  My uncle had real pornography in this cupboard in my room. 

I somehow knew my uncle slept naked. And he drank a bottle of Tab every night.  I sometimes stole some of his Tab in the mornings. 

One night he came into my room, sat next to me on the bed and placed his hand in between my legs.  My heart was pounding and I knew he wasn't allowed to do this, but I was frozen.  For many years this was all I could remember of what happened.  However I suffered nightmares, I had fears and complexes and whenever I saw anyone being violent toward a woman on television, even as an adult, I couldn't breathe.  As a teenager, I was prone to depression and mood swings and attempted suicide at least twice.  Once I took 22 aspirins, which was all I could find and another time, I tried to cut my wrist with a small pocket knife, but it was too blunt. 

I was suppressing the memories of what happened very deeply and although later, when I was 17, the realization that he has molested me, came to me, I was emotionally and psychologically unwilling to face more of these memories. I knew that there was more and a few times I came close to this veil lifting over my mind, but my heart started palpitating and my breathing constricted so badly, that I drew back from it each time. 

Before I continue, I must tell about what happened when I was 17 and the first memory came to me, because this is a significant part of the story.  It was a secondary trauma, but it was also the beginning of my road to healing.  

I went to YWAM (Youth with a Mission) in Namibia, after matriculating, where we were divided into small 'flock-groups' with a 'flock-leader'.  My flock leader was a young woman, only a few years older than I.  During private sessions, one is encouraged to 'open up' and share details about one's life. In retrospect, what basically happened bordered on psycho-analysis, but with untrained therapists.  One afternoon, during one of these sessions, the memory of my abuse, utterly unannounced and without warning, came back to my mind.

It is hard for people to understand this phenomenon.  "How can you forget something like that and how do you all of a sudden remember it again?" They may ask.  I can only explain it this way:  When you lose your car keys, you don't know where you put them.  You search all over, but the memory of their placement, is completely blocked from your mind.  Then eventually, you may think of getting something from the fridge and all of a sudden you remember... "I put the keys on the fridge".  And there they are.  The memory is back as if it never was gone.  Sometimes you can’t remember what a band is called, or you forget the name of an acquaintance or even celebrity and later it simply 'comes back to you'.  

Now imagine, something terrible happens to a small child, something that he/she has no frame of reference for.  This incident sinks into the subconscious to a place deep enough for the child to feel safe again and where it can function without the burden of the knowledge of the event.  It is different for children that are reminded constantly, by repeated abuse, but even in such cases children sometimes 'hide' these events from themselves, or find coping mechanisms such as developing imaginary personalities or places.  When these coping mechanisms begin to over-function, the child may grow up to develop multiple personality disorder, or other psychological problems. 

When I disclosed the molestation to my flock-group leader, she said nothing at all.  I had a ringing in my ears and my heart was beating violently. And she did not respond.  I walked back to the YWAM base and felt as if I had an over-full suitcase that had been opened and couldn't be closed again. Everything in that suitcase was hanging out and one could hardly keep it all together. This was the onset of a very traumatic time.  I had horrific night-mares and also hallucinations.  I would walk around the base at night, woken up from the nightmares and saw a menacing, black dog following me around. I physically heard this imaginary dog!  

One night I was so desperately at the end of myself that I crawled into the pump-house of the swimming pool (it was about 1 meter high and 2 meters long - with the pump inside) and tried to bash open my wrists with a stone. Only when I went back home and got counselling from a trained social worker at our church in Bloemfontein, Brenda Bosch, did I gain the resemblance of a grip on my life again.  I began working at the Post Bank in Bloemfontein, but was depressed and quiet.  I went home to my bedroom, straight from work, never went out and never dated anyone.  Thinking back, I must have been at my prettiest at that time - an 18 year old, blonde girl with blue eyes and a figure to die for, but I hardly had a friend and spent my evenings with my mother.  All my school friends had gone off to study and my plans to become a missionary and train with YWAM, had ended.  

I wrote in at the Teachers Training College in Bloemfontein, had a bursary and would have started studying in January the following year.  However, God had another plan with my life and it began unfolding soon after I was first molested.  One day, in the new house, when I was still 5 years old, my mom found me looking at a picture of Jesus knocking at a door and pointed out to me that, that is the door to my heart and it has no handle on the outside.  "Jesus is a gentleman" she said "He does not come in until you open for Him."  This gripped my heart.  I could not believe that Someone as amazing as the Lord Jesus Himself, could be barred from my heart, save I let Him in. The fact that I had the choice, over His desire to be with me, was too much for me to bear.  I went to my bed and cried uncontrollably and asked Him to come into my heart.  And He did.  He's been resident-owner, ever since.  

Just before I had to go off to college, I saw an advert for the Mobile School of Evangelism from Reinhardt Bonnke's organisation, Christ for all Nations (CfaN).  My first thought was that I would never get in, because every young Christian would be applying, but I literally fell to my knees and told God, if He wanted me to go to CfaN and would get me into the school, I would drop my plans and follow Him there.  A few weeks later CfaN had an event in Bloemfontein, I went for an interview and was accepted, one of only 2 girls with 18 young men.  

In January, instead of starting to train as a school teacher, I joined what was probably the coolest and most dynamic mission organisation in South Africa at the time.  I fell in love with my husband Leon on day one.  At first sight.  My brother Graham dropped me off at Witfield, Johannesburg and the student body left for a camp in the Magaliesberg for a week of orientation.  Leon was driving the van and I sat in the middle in the second row.  When I looked up into the rear-view mirror, I saw that he was looking at me.  So right there, with our two pairs of blue eyes meeting, we fell in love and got married 3 hours after graduation.  

We started our life as a missionary couple and began travelling throughout Southern- and Central Africa.  Later Reinhard Bonnke donated a tent to us that could seat 10 000 people.  It was a challenge and a valued resource in one and not a slight size too big for us, but a lot!  Later as we moved further up into Africa, we were given the opportunity to do fund-raising in Germany for our work and were drawn to the need among young people in that country.  

This brings me close to the rest of the memory of the sexual abuse that my uncle perpetrated against me.  We were travelling in Germany and sometimes had as many as 65 speaking engagements in 2 months. (plus travelling time between towns.)  I spoke to many girls who were sexually abused and raped and somehow they were drawn to me at these meetings.  Leon used to preach and I used to sing.  At the end of each meeting, we used to have a time of individual prayer for anyone who needed it and it was at these occasions that God began to bring victims of sexual abuse my way.  

The first time it happened I stood in front of a young girl and her mother.  She had been raped by her own father and I had no idea what to say to her. When I began praying for her, I saw a vision of a very ugly, gnarly old root system growing inside of her.  It filled her whole being.  Then I saw those roots being pulled out of her until she was nothing but a empty space where the roots used to be.  Then I saw a beautiful pitcher, filled with a perfume that looked like liquid pearls, poured into her, seeping into every crevice. Even the little hair-fine spaces where the root reached into the deepest parts of her, were filled with the perfume, until it permeated her very being.  The fragrance followed her where-ever she went.  All I could do was share this vision with her and thereafter for many years, when-ever I had a young girl standing in front me for prayer, I used to see that pitcher of liquid pearls and I knew she had been abused.  It was always positively confirmed when I inquired. 

We eventually moved to Germany and began working there full-time.  I built up a very close group of wonderful friends and used to lead worship at a women's conference from an denomination, the BFP, at least once a year. On one of these occasions, surrounded by my friends and in a very good, strong place emotionally, I began singing an English song during a morning session. 

I used to lead worship in German, but at this occasion I sang:  "Jesus, Lover of my Soul" in English, although I knew the song in German.  I told the ladies that I believe the song is for someone specific and then I said:  "Jesus is the Lover of your soul, but He is a gentleman, He will never force Himself on you." My friend Gaby Wentland, (who combats Sex Slavery and Human Trafficking in Germany today) stood at the furthest end of the hall and realized, that I am the person for whom that message was meant.  

As soon as I said it, I broke down in tears and saw what my uncle did to me. I don't know if it was on the same night that I remembered him entering my room and putting his hand between my legs.  It could have been a different night.  But I knew then that he had undressed me and pressing my body down between his legs, had non-penetrative sex with me. He did not put his penis inside me, but ejaculated on my stomach. 

I was behind the piano in this room full of women, at the furthest corner from the exit.  There was no escaping with this knowledge, to a private spot.  I was in front of all these women, sobbing uncontrollably and what better place to be?  My friends Gaby, Roswitha Ehrenholz, the other leaders and a crowd of beautiful, wonderful women that I can’t even remember by name today, rallied around me and prayed for me. It was the safest place to be, for this horrific memory to be dealt with and for my mind to be set free from the effects of this abuse.  

After the session, I went with Gaby to our room and I told her about the memory.  She prayed with me for complete freedom from this burden and then I washed my face, put on new make-up and joined everyone for lunch.  I was utterly amazed at the supernatural 'lifting' that I experienced in my heart and my mind.  I did not have any after-affects as I did the first time I remembered the abuse, which was about 15 years before that day.  

Today I still remember the room in that house, off the kitchen, where my grandmother used to stay.  It had a particular smell of 'old-age' to it.  I remember the room where later, my aunt had placed a shot-gut in her mouth, bent down and blew the side of her face away in a botched suicide attempt. I remember the vineyard, where they later found her dead with a rope around her neck, the rope had not broken her neck, but strangled her.  People suspected she was under hypnosis, which my uncle said, he used as a method of 'treatment' on her, because her depression deepened after the shooting. Sometimes, when I read about a case of child sexual abuse, in my mind, it plays off in the house of my uncle.  

This is a bit of residue.  He died before he could be brought to justice, so I never will have the opportunity to face him in a court, nor do I know if I will have the strength, as we expect women and girls to stand up and do every day.  However, the most powerful thing I could do and did, on my road to healing, was to forgive him for his sick and depraved actions.  

I realized that bitterness was like tying a corpse onto one's body.  I did not want his decay to take hold of my soul.  I had to let him go. I thank God that I was able to look at this man and understand something of the depravity that had him in its grips.  I understood that this is what happens when a person allows rot into one's heart, in the form of pornography, sick lust and degeneracy.  It begins small and eventually it drives a man to get up from his bed at night, where his beautiful wife is lying sleeping next to him, walk toward an innocent child of 5 years old and use that child to fulfil this degenerate lust - except it cannot be fulfilled.  It will want more and it will need worse kinds - it is a thirst for sin that cannot be quenched.  

Jesus wasn't a Christian - The Full Shocking Story

I got a lot of likes for that status update.  I was actually hoping to press the red button for some people and I think I might have still.  But those people don't feel like engaging me in an argument and they probably just got a bit peeved at my poking attitude.  ("Poke" as in "Stop poking or I'll tell!" and not the "What the hell is Facebook poking all about?" kind of way) Because when they think a little bit about it, they know exactly what I mean.

I love it that when blogging I can start sentences with 'But' and 'Because'.  Proper grammar would have been "On the contrary..." and "However", or "For this reason..", because one shouldn't start proper sentences with But and Because.

So yes, Jesus was not a Christian.  He was not a follower of Christ.  He didn't give His life to the Lord.  He was definitely also not a Disciple.  He didn't go up at the end of a moving service and followed the head-usher to the room next door.  He didn't take His Bible and personal possessions with Him to prevent the other Christians and clever robbers of church-folk, from stealing His stuff.  He did not follow the 86 week Discipleship course and the 3 Steps to Heaven, the John 3:16 Course, the How to become a Fisher of Men workshop, the Leadership and Other Wannabe Leaders Summit, or the Now that You are Born Again Training Seminar.  He definitely did not complete the Strength Finder Assessment, the Colour Coding for Easy Human Categorization profile questionnaire, the Japanese Art of War Strategic Management for Christian Leaders Course, or the "If you can't walk on water, wait till it freezes over and other practical Messianic tricks" Seminar.*

*Most of these are not real courses offered.

No dear Friends, Jesus was the real deal!!  He is the Chief Cornerstone.  He is the Rosetta Stone.  (I don't know if that is technically correct.  The Rosetta Stone is probably a chip from the Chief Cornerstone.)  He it the beginning and the end, He makes cryptonite in His backyard, but not after school, because He doesn't go to school so that other people can teach Him what to believe.  He doesn't believe.  He knows.  I could say something about Chuck Norris now, but nothing funny comes to mind.

Did you play "Broken Telephone" as a child?  Did you also have the distinct feeling that some kids deliberately perverted the whispered word?  You knew they heard exactly what it was, but wanted to make sure that some nonsense comes out the other end.  Well that is too close to the truth about followers of followers of followers of followers of followers... today.  If you want to know the word that began... stand next to the one who whispers it first.  And whisper it exactly as you hear it and then tell all the other kids down the line to come and stand where you are standing and get the word from the ORIGINATOR!!  (If you can say any word that ends in 'tor' without thinking about Spongebob then you are not of this world.  Alien imposter!  IMPOSTOR!  Go clone a Facebook account!)

I guess what I am trying to say... ya I know, my thoughts are as random as that thick book "Don Coyote" ... what I'm trying to say is:  I dont really care how you give your life to Jesus.  It is beautiful to see people go forward after a moving service and give their lives to the Lord.  I cry every time.  But don't follow the followers.  Follow the Real Deal.  And Disciple Makers:  please make disciples of Jesus and not disciples of yourself, your mandate, or your demographic.

Some Christian churches advertise their desired demographic subtly, but most of them do it blatantly.  The clean-cut, friendly pastor and his gorgeous wife smile down from the billboard saying:  "You would LOVE it here by us".  Others put their desired demographic on their billboard.  If you are a happy, gorgeous family (black, white, Asian, Hispanic), preferably a heterosexual married couple with 2 or 3 children, if you are old and beautiful or young and beautiful and most importantly if you are in your right mind... "You would LOVE it here by us!"  (..and we would love you right back!)

Please imagine what Jesus' billboard would look like.  Just imagine driving past and you see a porn-star on the job, a kid shooting heroin into his veins, a pedophile, a politician, a gorgeous heterosexual married couple with 2 or 3 children, a hobo, a hillbilly, a lawyer, a hippie, a scientist, a wall-street banker, a G8 protester, a guerrilla fighter, a child soldier, a rhino poacher, an NGO volunteer, an untouchable, a rockstar, a secretary, a doctor, a gangster, an artist, an extremist, a witch, a Gospel singer, a tax cheater, a drunk driver, a pastor, and a whole lot of little children, on a billboard... then you might very well be at Jesus' church!  Because He says ALL who are weary and heavy laden COME TO ME!  Are you heavy laden with guilt, or heavy laden with wealth?  Are you just plain sick and tired, or are you just plain sick and tired of people who are sick and tired?  Are you freaking awesome, or are you as plain as low-fat, unflavored yogurt?  You are Jesus' demographic!

Don't follow the followers, follow Jesus.  It is really great to be in a great church.  But follow Jesus.  Take life with a pinch of salt.  And follow Jesus.  If you don't like Christians, it just may comfort you that Jesus wasn't one either.  If you want to know what the Word is... get it from the One who whispers it first!

This is a cool interview with Bono http://noapologizing.wordpress.com/2011/02/24/u2s-bono-interview-about-christ/

If God is your father, then who is your mother?

I recently had an interaction with an individual who so stereo-typically displayed in his notions, the philosophy and attributes of modern atheism, that I feel I should blog about it! 

There are two main elements entrenched in atheism and they are Arrogance and Ignorance.  I have always said that at the intersection were arrogance and ignorance collide, they cry “There is no God”.   However modern Atheism does not simply reject the traditional idea of God, they replace God with something else, firmly believing in their replacement and vigorously proselyting, making it a religion.   In this gentleman’s (actually he wasn't really a gentleman, he was simply crude and displayed very poor manners) case, his mind is the replacement.  When I pointed out to him that he is a devoted follower of the religion of Atheism, he flatly denied that he is an atheist and waxed philosophical about love and humanity et cetera and so forth.  

Arrogance and ignorance; we can start at either point, but they are both very present.  So much so that I want to coin a new phrase:  arrogo-ignorance.  The element of ignorance is unmistakable – it blatantly admits that it cannot see God, cannot fathom the ability of billions of people through the ages, to believe in God.  The element of ignorance admits “I don’t get it!”, but with an arrogant laugh!  The arrogance that says “I am so clever, so important, so central to my own existence, that if I don’t get it, it simply cannot be!”  Therefor the atheist assumes and strongly believes, that only stupid people believe in God, because they can’t seem to reason properly.  Classical arrogo-ignorance! 

Then arrogo-ignorance doesn't stop there.  Many atheists feel compelled and entitled to launch scathing attacks on the Bible, a collection of writings that began 3500 years ago, took 40 people 1600 years to write, has of the most beautiful poetry, is based on accurate historical facts, never contradicts itself (claims of contradiction come from those who take verses out of context and have poor understanding of the holistic, thematic basis), is the all-time best seller ever, is as relevant today as it was when it was written (just think Proverbs and Ecclesiastes)and was a forerunner of all texts in the area of science.  While other sources declared that the earth rode on the back of an elephant, or was upheld by Atlas, the Bible alone stated what is today common knowledge, that the earth floats in space (Job 26:7).  

While only in the 19^th century it was discovered that all visible matter consist of invisible (to the eye) particles, the Bible stated this fact before 100 AD (Hebrews 11:3) The Biblical explanation of the Firmament is the closest any of the historical writings ever came to describing accurate scientific facts about our world (The Spirit hovering over the deep – or in secular terms, Energy moving over water creating a magnetic field that literally keeps us and everything else ‘together’ – Job also says ‘If You remove Your Spirit, everything will perish and return to particles.”)  The very Big Bang theory (not the one with Sheldon in the lead role), has been ridiculed by scientists, because it implies that Something outside of our known world, caused the Bang!  As the cosmos cools down, that cooling down is measurable and traceable to a point where the cooling began.  That is:  the rate the kitchen cools down from the time the oven is opened up, implies that someone opened the oven!  The first three verses of Genesis accurately express all known aspects of the creation.  Science expresses the universe in terms of: time, space, matter, and energy. In Genesis 1 we read: "In the beginning (time) God created the heavens (space) and the earth (matter)...Then God said, "Let there be light (energy)." No other creation account agrees with the observable evidence.*

It is amazing to me that people who don’t know the Bible, feel confident in commenting on it.  They believe what is written in today’s newspaper, that has a life-span of 24 hours, written by journalists, people like you and me, some who might have scraped through university on the skin of their bum, people with their own agendas and their own, untried opinions.  Truth is, the only thing you cut and keep from a newspaper is stuff written about you or yours!  The Bible stood the test of time!  It has been studied and probed and has provided inspiration and guidance for thousands of years!  It is simple enough for a child to understand, yet mysterious enough to confound the wisest mind.

I don’t want to continue on the point of science, because my faith is not based on scientific fact and I don’t need to explain God in order to believe in Him.  In fact, I love the fact that I cannot explain Him.  If He fitted into my intellect, He could very well be a making of mine and not I, a making of His.

No, we are talking about the arrogo-ignorance of Atheism.   The fact that through the ages, very wise and intelligent people were fully capable of a relationship with a living and loving God, is overlooked by the modern atheist.  The assumption is that only stupid people, only those who are weak and afraid, need and believe God.   This interesting interaction with the person who sparked my desire to blog about atheism, began when a friend posted his re-write of Psalm 23, replacing “The Lord” with “My Mind”, on Facebook.  I pointed out that if your mind is your shepherd, all you need is a good bump to the head and all of a sudden your mind is no longer your shepherd, but a soft blob of drool on top of your neck and seeing that he somehow believes that if you are really clever, you won’t believe in a Lord who loves you, guides you, interacts with you and – heaven forbid – tells you what to do - I responded!  I pointed out to him that I am probably one of the cleverest people he will ever meet and still I am fully capable of enjoying a very fulfilling relationship with God and that life without faith is sadly lacking in dimension.   

Of course I told the story of my intelligence with a tongue-in-the-cheek and wink of the eye, that he was not privileged to as the discussion was not face to face and so he didn't seem to think it was very funny.   I don’t usually make a habit of explaining how clever I am, as I don’t believe that being clever is in itself much of an accomplishment.  When one uses one’s intellect and combine it with hard work and study and gets accolades, one might mistake it for accomplishments, but the fact is that all of that has been graced upon us (or not).  It is unmerited.  The grey matter that one starts out with, the ability to study, the ability to ‘hold’ knowledge and apply it… those are graces.  I certainly did not make myself clever and that I am able to study, remember what I studied and apply it to my life, those are things that God blessed with me.  It is nothing to be proud of.  It is not as if I obtained something by my own strength.  I arrived on earth with a brain.  I inherited it from a very clever, witty and beautiful woman and alas a very clever and hilariously unscrupulous man.  But it is not my brain that I take pride in, it is the other things that I inherited from my mother – the unwavering faith in God the Father, the beauty of being in love with Jesus and the joy of dependence on the Holy Spirit.  That is my story, not the fact that I happened to blow a couple of IQ tests out of the water!

I feel it is only fair that I answer some of the questions this man posed at me in his attempt to get me to doubt God.  I quote verbatim:

“Meleney Kriel:  I am happy to know that you are so intelligent.  I just have a few questions for your intelligent mind. {1} how do you know that god is a male, did you check to see for yourself and if you did how big was his private part?”

See why I don’t bestow the usual ‘gentleman’ title here? 

So first of all, lets quickly correct the grammar (seeing that this is man whose mind is his shepherd): The question should read “How do you know that God is male?” not “a male”.  (That one is for free.)

I believe in the God of the Bible and He introduced Himself as “Father”.  He says “I will be your father and you will be my sons and daughters”.  It is not the gender, but the role that He fulfills in the Godhead.  I understand fully how the image of a perfect father has been tainted by our own fathers and it is hard for most of us to relate to the beautiful father-heart of God.  My own father had little scruples and he was master at excuses when it came to providing for us, resulting in me finding it difficult to ask God for anything.  However, I have the coolest stories about how God provides for me in His process of proving to me that He is my provider.  No coincidences, just hilarious detail in the smallest and biggest ways.  For instance (and I have LOTS of these stories), when we were missionaries in Swaziland, we were in a mountain village called Hlatikulu.  One night I told my husband “I wish I had fillet steak!”  He laughed and said, “The people in this area only eat beef when they have a marriage or a funeral and then they are not going to cut T-bones and fillet.  They chop up the whole cow and cook it all.”  We know, because we were privileged to be invited to some of these feasts.  That night, there was a knock on our caravan door and a gentleman stood there with a brown paper packet and asked for me.  My husband told him that he can give it to me, but he insisted and said “No this is for Mama Baine”  (My son’s name).   He handed me the packet and said, “I am bringing this for you.”  Guess what?  He was a butcher from a nearby town and came home the weekend with a FULL beef fillet – just for me!!  Yes, so God set out to heal the wounds of a child whose father told her that the maintenance money flushed down the toilet with his whole wallet!! 

My answer:  No, I did not have to check if God is male, He chose to call himself my father and I gladly accept.

Next question:

“{2} why would a god need to have a gender shouldn’t an omnipotent being be beyond gender?”

You reason like a human, because you are human.  So I will explain in human terms:  The Bible says God made us in His image – male and female He made us.  This means that men are made in His image and women are also made in His image.  We have to deduct that He has all the attributes of the two genders in Him, for it to flow out of Him.  It is actually one of the beautiful mysteries of marriage.  He also says that in marriage, the two become one.  We can speculate why He wouldn't just make a being that is both male and female in one.  Personally I celebrate the differences and find it would be rather boring, but think about it:  it is an amazing thing to find that person who completes you (corny and cheesy I know), but in reality, those elusive and scarce souls who happen to have been married for decades and whose marriage have stood the test of time, would perhaps be able to explain how the two are one.  I have been married for only 28 years and already I can’t imagine being alone.  I could be reduced to tears in a minute if I imagine losing my husband and having to carry on as one half of a whole.  I know he feels the same as he was positively lost when I went to India with my son last year for 4 weeks!  

My answer:  God is indeed beyond gender, just because Jesus came in the form of a son and the Father calls Himself the Father, does not mean He is confined to gender as we know it. 

Next Question:

“{3} you said that god’s hand has been in your life, why would god need a hand, and how big are his hands, how do you know it was god’s hands and not his devil’s hand. How did he identify himself, and how would you know it was him if you have never seen or met him before?”

For someone whose mind is his shepherd, I am rather amazed that you cannot understand that I refer to the amazing things that happen in my life as “God’s hand”.  But if you are incapable of lateral thought, or common idiom, we can get literal and I can say: Big!! 

So that’s my answer:  God’s hands are very big.  Huge.  The Bible says He spans the universe between His fingers.  It is quite amazing that He does not squash us like a bug right?  The reason for that is that He is love.  God’s nature, His very being is LOVE.  His patience is unending, so is His kindness, His grace, His compassion and that, is why the infinite God takes the time with us finite people.

Secondly, how I know it is not the devil’s hand?  Please!  That is a stupid question.  Have you ever seen the Satanists?  They worship the devil who asks them to sacrifice blood, their pets, other people and mostly, themselves.  They jump off bridges in groups, in sacrifice to him.  No the devil asks more, more, more!  God gives!  The Bible says “For God so loved the world that He gave…”  I can be pretty sure that the many blessings in my life are not the results of the devil’s ‘hand’.  I have seen the devil’s hand though.  I see it all around me.   Those who hate God are his prey.  The Bible says he came to kill, steal and destroy.  Do you see death, robbery and destruction?  That, is the hand of the devil. 

You ask how I know it is His hand if I never seen or met Him before?  You assume that I have never seen or met Him before.  My life has a fourth dimension.  I see in the Spirit.  Do you know quantum physics?  Oracle Thinkquest says:  Quantum physics is a branch of science that deals with discrete, indivisible units of energy called quanta as described by the Quantum Theory. There are five main ideas represented in Quantum Theory: namely that Energy is not continuous, but comes in small but discrete units, that the elementary particles behave both like particles and like waves, that the movement of these particles is inherently random and that it is physically impossible to know both the position and the momentum of a particle at the same time. The more precisely one is known, the less precise the measurement of the other is.  The atomic world is nothing like the world we live in. While at a glance this may seem like just another strange theory, it contains many clues as to the fundamental nature of the universe and is more important than even relativity in the grand scheme of things (if any one thing at that level could be said to be more important than anything else). Furthermore, it describes the nature of the universe as being much different than the world we see. 

From this comes the notion of a ‘quantum leap’ – if you think it means ‘a very large leap’, you would be wrong.  It is a robust and essential shift from one mind-set, outlook or mentality, to another.   I have to explain things to you that you have no frame of reference for and if your mind is as shut tight as it seems from your questions and philosophy, it will be very hard for you to understand when I say, I see visions.  I have met God when I was a little girl.  My mother found me staring at one of those old-fashioned dimensional pictures, of Jesus knocking at a door.  She explained to me that the door depicts the door of my heart and there is no handle on the outside.  Jesus is a gentleman, she said and he knocks.  He doesn't barge in.  It is up to me to open up from the inside and let him in.  She referred to the scripture that says “Behold, I stand at the door and I knock.  If anyone opens up for me, I will enter and we will have communion”.  Not the wafer and the wine type of communion, but the companionship kind, the camaraderie, the attachment between friends.  If you can’t understand how amazing that must be, then you are the poorer for it. 

I went to my bedroom and there, this 5 year old child cried out to God and said: “I want you to come into my life.”  And He did.  I can’t explain it in any terms that you will understand.  You will have to make the quantum leap.  You will have to open your mind and your heart and believe.  Faith is the key.  It isn't something that you can explain.  But I do see Him.  I meet with Him.  I sit at my piano and begin to worship.  I sing and speak in tongues (nice shocker for you there!)  I am able to ascend into this higher dimension and it doesn't take hours, it doesn't require deep meditation and beating of my body.  I can move in and out of that place at will and if you have never experienced it, my heart bleeds for you.  It is the source of my inspiration, it is where I find peace and it is where I hear what God is saying to me. 

{4} How do you know it was not Allah or one of the hundreds of other god that is messing with your head.

No-one is messing with my head.  I am in my right mind.  I am a fully functional and contributing adult human, a citizen of the world, a South African by birth and I don’t discriminate against people who think differently than I, people who sin differently than me and who believe, or experience and comprehend differently than what I have come to believe, experience and comprehend. 

As for how I know it is not Allah, I have to say that I am not an expert on Islam, but the word Allah is derived from Al-ilah (The-deity).  Some people believe Allah is another name for the same God, but historically in pre-Islamic Arabia it is the name of one of many gods that were worshiped.   Some say  that the prophet Mohammed chose from other gods, Allah, the god of the desert.  But once again, I am not an expert on this topic.  I just know that I believe in the God of the Bible, who reveals Himself to me as a triune God, namely Father, Son and Spirit and as such I know it is not the hand of Allah per se, nor one of hundreds of gods.  It would be the One I ask and the One I trust.  If you want to worship science or knowledge you might say you see the ‘hand’ of science, or knowledge in your life.  But science evolves and knowledge is a very relative and changing concept.  What is knowledge today is foolishness tomorrow.  Hence my concern that ‘your mind is your shepherd’.  One good knock on the head and your world falls apart!

Question:  {5}How do you know that you don’t need to see a psychiatrist for your issues of seeing and believing in spirits & that an invisible man lives in the sky? And finally why can’t your god once and for all speak for himself for a change? Please use you profound intelligence and answer these basic question for me.

People believe that their ancestors guide them.  Are they in need of a psychiatrist?  You believe your mind is infallible.  Do you need a psychiatrist?  Will you ever be able to admit that you don’t understand everything?   You reason and inquire on a very linear basis.  A man living in the sky, would be unusual, unless you refer to the Mir and other manned space craft.  I do not believe in a man living in the sky and never said I do.  I believe in a God who is capable of holding the universe and in fact the cosmos, in His hand and yet makes my heart His home.   If you don’t understand it, don’t feel bad.  Neither do I.  Faith is not based on knowledge or understanding – it goes beyond human knowledge and understanding.  If it fits in your head, it isn't God.  Because like I said, one good knock to your skull and there it goes!! 

The truth is that mankind is capable of faith – it is what distinguishes us from apes.  It is what distinguishes me from apes anyway. 

*http://www.raptureforums.com/BibleProphecy/101science.cfm  

and http://www.whatchristianswanttoknow.com/10-amazing-bible-facts/ [cited 11 March 2013]

*http://library.thinkquest.org/3487/qp.html

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