Fighting For the Other Side

Written by Anthony Douglas on Saturday, 05 August 2017.

We’ve heard it all before, of course.

“It’s time to settle this issue.” “It’s going to happen eventually, so let’s just get on with it.” “You were elected to make these kind of decisions.”

The translation: “You must be tired of hearing the same demands.” “We will keep on agitating until we get our way, so you might as well give up.” “...That is, to make the decision that I want.” This has been the strategy for decades, to keep pushing and pushing for the next inch of legislative gain, and to label each step as progress.

Press OnAnd so the same-sex marriage issue is back in the headlines once more, and once again we’re tired of hearing about it. Why is it allowed to displace domestic violence and entrenched homelessness? The continued plight of refugees denied refuge?

I’m tired of talking about it. The strategy is sound; we’re tempted to just give up. But we cannot. Someone has to fight for the other side. Someone has to fight to protect them from greater delusion, greater complacency. It is always right to seek the good of others. “If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles,” Jesus told us.

The Liberal Party meets to discuss the question again tomorrow. If you’d like to express your opinion, the Australian Christian Lobby has set up a tool to email it to our local MP and state senators at

Fifty Years is a Long Time

Written by Anthony Douglas on Friday, 28 July 2017.

StaceA half-century ago, an old man named Arthur died of a stroke in a nursing home in Hammondville, aged 83. For the last 35 years of his life, he had written a single word, ‘eternity’, in chalk on pavements all over Sydney. And at last, it had come to claim him.

Arthur Stace was born in a slum and soon joined the family business: alcoholism. He’d been in prison on and off since he was 15 and his life was a mess. And then someone offered him a free meal - tea and rock cake, it turned out to be. Stace stumbled upon a men’s meeting at St Barnabas Broadway, heard the gospel, and knew that at last he’d found someone with the power to rescue him. He gave himself to Jesus and found himself made new. “That night, I realised that Christ was stronger than drink,” he later said.

Two years later, he heard an evangelist talk about how everyone needed to work out where they would spend eternity, shouting, “I wish I could shout ETERNITY through the streets of Sydney.” With the words ringing in his ears, Stace pulled a stick of chalk from his pocket, bent over, and wrote that single word on the footpath. His copperplate script was immaculate: not bad for a man who’d never been to school and was largely illiterate, with handwriting that was illegible.

Half a million words later, his time ran out - or did it? Half a century later, he lies forgotten by Sydney in Botany cemetery - or does he? Half his life spent on a one-word sermon that washed away overnight - or has it?

Time will tell.

Deeply Tragic

Written by Anthony Douglas on Sunday, 23 July 2017.

JustineThe story that absorbed our media this week was the horrifying and absurd death of Justine Damond in Minneapolis. It’s easy to understand why. She sounds like she was a lovely woman to know at any level, and she was only a matter of days away from marrying the love of her life. She is an easy victim for us to sympathise with, and the fact that she was shot by the very police she had called for, while seeking to look after a stranger, only added to the pathos.

It is without doubt a terrible tragedy, but I fear that the scale of the tragedy has been missed, many times.

For a start, I think we should be grieved that Justine’s death has become a ‘story’ - a media event, a topic for making conversation, a political football in the making. Any death deserves more respect and compassion than that. Many people are genuine in their grief, but there are also many who are just curious about the latest story.

Then we should ask why Justine’s death garners so much attention, when there have been 540 people shot dead by police in the US this year before Justine. Is it the novelty of her Australian nationality? Is it because she is a white woman who was just trying to do the right thing?

But the deeper tragedy in this is that Justine’s life has been cut short. By rights, she could have expected many more years. And the question that we’ll never hear in the press is the most vital one: did she hear the gospel? To rob someone of their life is criminal; to rob them of their chance at eternal life is infinitely worse.

Our society fears and abhors death, but tragically chooses to forget the peril of the second death - and this may be the deepest tragedy of all.

The State of Origin

Written by Anthony Douglas on Saturday, 15 July 2017.

OriginOnce again, three games of footy have come and gone. For some there is still a warm glow from the results; for others, the bleak hope that next year will be different. Even the disinterested can rejoice that they have a chance to hear about other sports for a while.

It’s an unusual thing, if you haven’t noticed, among sporting codes. Somehow, the most important games of the year in rugby league are not the finals, not even the international matches. Instead, that place is taken by what in any other sport would be called exhibition matches. The Americans love their Superbowls to death, but have very nearly killed off the Pro Bowl. The Davis Cup is well-loved, but people remember who wins at Wimbledon. You get the idea.

So why do the leaguies love their Origin? Partly, it’s down to the fact that the two teams fielded are genuinely of high quality, making it likely that the games will be competitive. But I suspect even more significant is that joy in the rivalry. Queensland used to lose all their talented players to Sydney clubs, and State of Origin was their chance to thumb their noses at the thieves.

And that matters because we really do care about where we come from. We take pride in our roots, whether we’re a city girl or a country boy, whether we were born in Australia or some other land. Where I come from says something about who I am.

Ah, but there’s the rub. Where do I come from? Fundamentally, I come from the God who made humanity – and like those he first made, I’ve made a hash of my life too. And unless God redeems me, that’s nothing to be proud of...

Living Through History

Written by Anthony Douglas on Saturday, 08 July 2017.

As we keep exploring the history of the Reformation, you’ll have noticed that the stories we uncover aren’t dull. Men and women keep taking incredible risks, keep making incisive discoveries, never forsaking the gospel that had blazed to life in their generation.

What would it have been like to live through the Reformation? It’s hard not to wonder... Would we have had the same courage, the same initiative, the same dedication? If I had been Luther, would I have tried to be more politic? If I had been Zwingli, would I have taken up arms?

It’s not a new question, of course. We often take a similar approach as we read the Bible. Would I have done any better than Jesus’ disciples when listening to all his teaching? Would I have followed Moses through the Red Sea?

The thing is, we live in such ordinary times, so we mull over these adventures from our armchairs. It’ll never happen to us...

Apple TreeMartin Luther was once reputedly asked, as he worked in his veggie patch, what he would do if he knew for certain that Jesus’ return was the following day. His reply? He’d plant an apple tree. His point was that living the godly life is an everyday activity.

Luther didn’t know the firestorm that he would light, when he hammered his list to the door. He just knew it was the right thing for him to do, to be faithful to God and to his neighbours. No more do we know whether the choices we make might prove to change the world, or even just our part of it. But so what? Jesus called on his servants to be ready for the master’s return - and being ready meant being about their daily work. Let’s live our lives as if each day were our last...and be faithfully ordinary.

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