Dorian Gray

I meet up occasionally with the assistant minister at the local Presbyterian church.

Last time we had a really nice chat. Good to talk about church, about life and about things that energise.

He sand the praises of Oscar Wilde’s “A Picture of Dorian Gray.” I hadn’t read it.
In one of those delightful little coincidences (call them fate, call them divine providence) my wife actually gave me a copy for Christmas & I started to read it yesterday.

I don’t know why I haven’t read any Wilde before! He’s a cynic & reads like he must be pretty immoral, but the man knows how to string words together! I think I’m inspired!

Don’t think for a second that I have any false illusions. I’ll never be a Wilde. He has reminded me, however, of that great joy that comes from flexing your imaginative muscles. The death of this blog has been a reflection of me letting my muscles atrophy. Once you’re out of the habit it’s easier to let things go.

That’s it. Next year, I might avoid the ever-popular “365” concept, but go for 5 posts a week!

A chance to ensure that those memorable moments that are found throughout the day are frozen somewhere for me to enjoy, and maybe spread a bit of the joy around too.

So, my thought for the day revolves around Christmas.

Sometime’s [Mark Driscoll’s]( “muscular Christianity” really bugs me, like he wont be happy until every man can chug a beer (but not too many), know the names of a dozen mixed martial artists and simultaneously drive an 18-wheeler truck and a 4X4 motorbike.

That said, I really appreciate a lot of what he says. I enjoyed, in particular, thoughts leading up to Christmas about things that dads could be doing, including “creating memories” for their kids.

Do we think often enough about where & how we create memories?

What are your memories about Christmas as a child?

In particular I remember fighting (light heartedly) with my Aunt over a particular chocolate that was in the centerpiece of the table every year. I can close my eyes & almost smell the pine as my brother & I laid out our sleeping bags & camped down under the tree for a week before Christmas. The look of the presents under the blinking lights and that sweet waft bringing Christmas dreams as we slowly lost the battle to stay awake.

I’m thankful for so many memories. I’m really thankful to my parents, that Christmas was such a priority to my family & that to this day my extended family still really enjoys getting together (even if it has migrated to boxing day now). But I want to build on it. I want to be intentional in my memory building.

Driscoll has his view of what dads need to do, but now I appeal to you, the three people who still occasionally read my blog (and hopefully those you can convince to come & say “hi”) What’s the memory you have & what’s the idea you can give. How can I create real memories for my kid?

Note: As a minister, I hope people can assume that my No.1 priority is for my kid to see this as an opportunity to worship the birth of Jesus, “God become Man.” At the same time, I think that the clear statement that God makes through His son is His welcoming us to be a part of His family if we trust in Him. That aspect of family is something that it is healthy to mirror in our own family relationships. I think maybe sometimes Christians can be precious about Christmas traditions that don’t mention Jesus every sentence. I think it can be good to let go of this sometimes & worship God through love and action & not just words…


2 thoughts on “Dorian Gray

  1. Hi Tim, this is a post I wrote about Mark Driscoll’s ultra masculine view of church life – he says (of Jesus) that he could never worship someone he could beat up!
    Creating positive memories for our children

  2. allow me to finish before you make me post….
    Creating positive memories for our children has to be up there as one of the most important tasks of parents.
    In his book “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years” Don miller describes visiting a friend who had just delivered her 2nd daughter:

    And when my friends Paul and Danielle had their second daughter, I went to the hospital and held her in my arms. She was tiny and warm like a hairless cat, and she was dependant. When I looked over at her mother, Danielle’s eyes told me that there was more to life than sunsets and romance. It was as though having a baby had made all the fairy tales come true for her, as though she were a painter who discovered a color all new to the world.
    I can imagine what kind of conversation God and Danielle will have, how she’ll sit and tell God the favorite parts of the story he gave her. You get a feeling when you look back on life that that’s all God really wants from us, to live inside a body he made and enjoy the story and bond with us through the experience

    Sounds an awful lot like being a parent!

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