Another reason why I'm part of Riverton Baptist Church's Catalyst group:
What do you do when carers don't care? What do you do when government agencies no longer work out of love and respect, but instead treat people as an inconvenience, a burden to which the barest minimum of care is to be given, so that a box can be ticked and a pay-packet collected? How do you seek, and actually get, justice for the poor, the widow, the orphan and the immigrant? What do you do when people suffer injustice, not just at the global level, but also at the national, and community levels? How can issues of unfair treatment be addressed in a way that is appropriate but also effective?
I went to the Catalyst training because I was interested in the global issues. But I also went because I wanted to find out if Catalyst's methods could also be used to make a difference at the community level. I have found that the methods work across the board.
Do you want to make a difference now, and for eternity? Consider Catalyst.
© Copyright Bruce M. Axtens, 2007
Monday, June 18, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Thinx 56: Catalyst
One reason why I'm part of Riverton Baptist Church's Catalyst group:
Seven years ago last Sunday, my father died. His passing was noted in a number of places, including the front page of The Sydney Morning Herald, in Column 8, and Wesley Mission's Sharkwatch.
My father was a dangerous man -- dangerous because he acted on his beliefs. He believed in Jesus (and that's often enough danger for most.) However, he also believed that the government, though in its place by the behest of God, is nevertheless a human organisation. Government, at all levels, is staffed by men and women, all subject to the foibles, fears and failings that are part and parcel of being sons and daughters of Adam.
Dad also knew, better than most it seems, that the government is neither all powerful, all present nor all knowing. In fact, quite the opposite: it needs the help and efforts of others in order to get anything done; it often can't see past the end of its own nose; and it is totally incapable of reading people's minds.
So my father set about improving things for the government of his day: he wrote letters -- sometimes 10 or more per week. He sent them to the government, and to the media, by mail, by documents exchange, and later, by email. He wrote on a wide range of subjects: from Starr-Bowkett Societies through to pointed debunkings of whatever the government's "spin of the day" may have been. He wrote tight, dense prose, fortified with legalese, squeezing into a sentence what others often take a paragraph to achieve.
And he did this consistently from the mid 1950s through to the end of the 1990s.
I am the eldest of his children. I am the son of a catalyst. My methods are not his, but his passion is in my blood.
I am also a son of God, and his love compels me to confess his gospel, and also to act upon it.
© Copyright Bruce M. Axtens, 2007
Seven years ago last Sunday, my father died. His passing was noted in a number of places, including the front page of The Sydney Morning Herald, in Column 8, and Wesley Mission's Sharkwatch.
My father was a dangerous man -- dangerous because he acted on his beliefs. He believed in Jesus (and that's often enough danger for most.) However, he also believed that the government, though in its place by the behest of God, is nevertheless a human organisation. Government, at all levels, is staffed by men and women, all subject to the foibles, fears and failings that are part and parcel of being sons and daughters of Adam.
Dad also knew, better than most it seems, that the government is neither all powerful, all present nor all knowing. In fact, quite the opposite: it needs the help and efforts of others in order to get anything done; it often can't see past the end of its own nose; and it is totally incapable of reading people's minds.
So my father set about improving things for the government of his day: he wrote letters -- sometimes 10 or more per week. He sent them to the government, and to the media, by mail, by documents exchange, and later, by email. He wrote on a wide range of subjects: from Starr-Bowkett Societies through to pointed debunkings of whatever the government's "spin of the day" may have been. He wrote tight, dense prose, fortified with legalese, squeezing into a sentence what others often take a paragraph to achieve.
And he did this consistently from the mid 1950s through to the end of the 1990s.
I am the eldest of his children. I am the son of a catalyst. My methods are not his, but his passion is in my blood.
I am also a son of God, and his love compels me to confess his gospel, and also to act upon it.
© Copyright Bruce M. Axtens, 2007
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