After reading something interesting I decide to facebook about it. I make a joke which I* think is funny. Later I notice a friend’s status is the same as mine. It takes a while, but the ‘he’s just copied my status’ penny finally drops. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. Someone else finds my jokes funny. Not in the obligatory ‘I laugh because I have to’ kind of way but the actual, ‘that was funny enough for me to palm it off as my own’ kind of way. I declare myself a comedy genius and begin to wonder what other updates I can persuade him to copy….

*I should add that mostly I am the only person who finds my jokes funny

I am open to this new world of update and retweet. I sign up to the discover, muse and blog way of life and I am ready to link, like and locate. The world of social media is a great one, filled with the most eclectic spectrum of creativity shared at a breathtaking rate. There is however amongst this feast of inspirational, hilarious and downright weird fodder, a question that continues to crop up. I’ve heard it mused on at conferences; creatives, clients and users have asked it in their own ways and behind it lies a whole host of reasons for asking it in the first place. So in a nutshell, who owns this creative stuff, who’s meant to get the credit and does it actually really matter?

No idea is a new idea, right? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery is it not? Surely credit can be loose, the more important goal is that videos are watched, ideas are developed and thoughts are shared. Social media is a place for discovery and distribution not references and bibliographies, so copy and paste… quick or someone else will get in there first. First is kudos, sources not so much. But what is it that fuels us to claim ownership over that which we didn’t create or discover, which we received from another and which we will shortly share as our own? Is this a competition and if so is the prize anything to do with the Maldives? Genuinely what is the point of Klout? Does it encourage worthwhile conversation or digital diarrhoea?

The bigger picture is that a creative commons, open sourced way of life operates on giving credit not looking for it. The onus is on the user not the creator, those who share the discoveries of others, those who imitate, renovate or reclothe the original. You can’t ask for credit, it’s just awkward and at worst ugly, but instead we give it to encourage the momentum of innovation and imagination. I will continue to pinch the work of others and expect others to pinch mine (especially the jokes) but will it be mine or yours and does it really matter?

Post Written by Juls Hollidge Image by Flickr user Stewf

In the past week the UK has seen examples of both civil unrest and community response, many people have lost their homes and their livelihoods, some people have lost their lives.  We found four people who experienced the riots and/or cleanup, asked for their story and their thoughts on the events of this week.

Phil Stokes: An inner city church planter and social entrepreneur who received a call from God to Brixton and Peckham following the Brixton riots in 1985. (PS)

Hayley Matthews: Chaplain to MediaCityUK at Salford Quays since September 2010. (HM)

Dan Thompson: Writer, artist and photographer who set up Empty Shops Network, ArtistsandMakers and launched the #riotcleanup on Twitter in response to the riots. (DT)

Chris Stone: Filmmaker based in SW London, near Clapham Junction from where he runs SmallSeedFilms. (CS)

What was your experience of the riots and clean up?

CS: I had been working in Bristol earlier in the week, hearing a few snippets of news about the riots in Tottenham and Hackney while I was away. To be honest I gave it very little attention – just a regional disturbance, so I thought – until I set off to return home and a last-minute check of facebook was full of shocked comments from my friends across London. I stayed up most of the night keeping track of events online, tracking the news and prayer requests from friends living more locally to the riots via twitter and facebook. I did this with some concern as the riots seemed to spread further and further south towards us.

HM: My experience of the riot in Salford was that it seemed to begin with a small group of young lads finding an ‘excuse’ to behave aggressively towards the police, yet the community itself not feeling remotely at risk, hence the massive amount of bystanders compared to a dozen stone throwers.  Sadly, as things escalated and the word on the street spread, heavier elements of criminality arrived and the situation became quite threatening over a period of four hours or so and the situation did become a lot more violent with intent to loot, as could be seen by the BBC van being upturned and burned out.  I never felt at risk personally, as the clear intent was for goods and towards the police – in fact as a member of clergy wearing my collar I was protected, talked to at length by lots of the men there about what was going on and why (in their opinion). Lots of residents wanted to tell me about what had been happening and how they felt, and the next day the huge clean-up, finished by 9am so that everything would be ‘business as usual’, showed just how much the community wanted to be back on track, resisting the temptation to be victimised or retaliate.  They simply got on with it.

CS: I was woken early in the morning with an unusual request. Pete Greig (24-7 Prayer) wanted to do an immediate video response from one of the riot sites, so I headed into Clapham with Pete and my fiancee (24-7′s UK prayer co-ordinator). The scene when we arrived was extraordinary. Hundreds of people had turned up with brooms, bin bags and gloves to help clear up. Most had been mobilised via the twitter hashtag #riotcleanup, which I’d also noticed the previous night. Some had come on their own, some in groups. Many were wearing T-shirts bearing hand-written slogans: “we love London”; “Riot Clean Up”; and my favourite: “Power to the Peaceful”. Where rioters had wrought havoc and destruction during the night, the community came together in a great groundswell of love the next morning. As one woman put it: “the only way to combat hate is with love” and that is certainly my impression of what was happening in Clapham the morning after the London riots.

DT: My experience was all through a screen; first watching the news footage, then launching the #riotcleanup campaign on Twitter. I spent from Monday night, right through Tuesday, at the laptop; sorting Tweets, organising people, arranging for supplies and donations to get to the right place at the right time. And talking to lots of media, all around the world – spreading the message that we were cleaning up and getting ready for business. Now, at the end of the week, I’m catching up with the TV footage; it’s amazing to see so many people on the streets helping other people.

PS: Caught up in a real mix of venues and atmospheres: Quite a few prayer meetings; Out on the street with the #riotcleanup crew (found myself alongside a BBC presenter who lives in Peckham); In Emergency Meetings of the council, police and community leaders at the Town Hall; Planning with local leaders for a Southwark Service of Peace; On a telephone conference call with network leaders from across London; Interviewed on a BBC London radio show. Wondering when the large plate glass window of our High Street café would attract a random brick. Encouraged by the unity, genuine prayer and soul searching among leaders that I’ve not seen in quite awhile. Frustrated that I couldn’t get hold of many colleagues due to the summer evacuation of Christians to camps and (it must be said, largely well earned) breaks. Deeply saddened by the deep harm to both perpetrators and victims of the riots.

What questions and challenges do the events of this week raise for the church?

PS: All the big questions are now rattling around in the wider community. We need to speak thoughtfully and with authority right now – to the nation, to local communities, and to the Lord. This is the role of the Church – to bring hope and issue a prophetic challenge; to us as the church as well as the wider community.  The urgent action of practical help… followed by the urgent debate and mature discussion with community leaders…alongside the urgent prayer for all who influence the culture of our times.

CS: At times like this people seem incredibly open to receiving love and prayer. People seem to understand that there is more to this than just disaffected youth or failing political systems, and people want to pray. The church has had quite a lot of practice at prayer over the years(!) so we are very well-placed to meet this need.

HM: How do we as a Church reconnect with young people with attitude whose sole aim it to ‘get what they want’ or to ‘be famous’?  Have we become culturally disconnected? How do we begin to address the deep psychological issues of young people brought up in desperate circumstances (whatever they might be) and acting out both in behaviour, criminal acts and profoundly damaged self-esteem/worth? Why have we become an ‘elite club’ for those who behave well, live a perfect life and say the right prayers/sing the right songs?  On a panel this week, another Christian panel member remarked to me – on finding out I was an Anglican priest – rude words that in summary said, ‘well we’re all proper Christians unlike you’.  When did we lose our gentle, persistent, graceful patience?

CS: Another challenge for the church comes from the Turkish community in East London who turned out en masse to protect their homes and their shops from looters. As a community they stood against the disorder that was happening. Elsewhere in London this didn’t happen. People stayed in their homes, watching on the TV as rioters destroyed their streets, hoping that the police would eventually step in and bring order (admittedly, this is exactly what I was doing that very night). I asked a friend of mine why he thought the Turks had been able to do this where other communities hadn’t. He said, “it’s because they have a strong community – they all know each other”. The church is uniquely well-placed to help foster a sense of community. If we set an example of service, if we love the poor and disaffected, if we face outwards and practice hospitality, if we do, in short, the things that Jesus has taught us to do, we can play a significant part in helping build a community where events like those of last week need not be repeated.

HM: It’s easy to love when the going is good, but tough love, and I don’t just mean firm boundaries, tough love means sticking with it through thick and thin, laying down your life for it/them even when there isn’t a fairy-tale ending, not turning our backs and saying that we tried, so that’s our conscience clear. Finally, how do we, stretched as we are, generate the volunteers we need to carry out the social justice programmes we could if everyone wasn’t already working all the hours God sends?  Our numbers are limited, we all have to earn a  living and yet need presses in on every side, particularly as our economy remains in decline.  We might need to learn to collaborate with people of other faiths and with public and statutory bodies.  I sometimes wonder if that’s exactly want Jesus wants us to be doing, and we’re having our desire to be insular and singular deeply challenged.

DT: I’m agnostic, but the church has played a part in my life for some years. I’ve been lucky to meet two vicars, first at the Church of the Good Shepherd in Shoreham and then the Rev John Chitham at St Matthew’s in Worthing, who understood that their building wasn’t silent and sacred, but should be a space at the heart of the community. I’ve since read about Andrew Mawson’s work in Bromley By Bow, and he advocates a similar approach. The opportunity is one these three reverends already embrace; churches need to throw out the rule book, and say yes to anyone in the community that wants a space. They should be open as often as possible, welcoming and well presented. They should invest in quality furniture, fixtures and fittings so they feel special and that people using them feel special. It’s what the church has done historically – time to do it again.

Finally, an alternative look at young people in the UK from three, formerly homeless people who were asked what their ‘personal vision’ was by their local YMCA.

Post Curated By WorthTheAsk Image by Flickr user churchofpunk Video by J&E Higham

I’m not sure how I came to be outside

I’m not sure how I came to be outside
distressed by ululating car alarms;
remembering the smell of Pledge buffed pews,
and the fragrant incantation of the Psalms.

I’m not sure how I came to be outside
whilst humming Ira Sankey’s melodies,
wounded tunes of yearning consolation
against the plague of your hypocrisies

I’m not sure how I came to be outside
reciting the Beatitudes by rote,
as you process in celibate’s high collar
disguising tell tale love-bites round your throat

I’m not sure how I came to be outside,
as I tabulate the mysteries that I miss,
that pallid green of ghastly crockery
and the rainbow bounty of the Eucharist

I’m not sure how I came to be outside
lamenting over how we were betrothed
it’s not that now I’m naked and in exile….
….more humdrum desolate and thinly clothed

I’m not sure how I came to be outside
as the faithful congregate for Morning Prayer
I sing to you my torch song for the jilted -
me and Barbara belting out ‘The Way We Were’

I’m not sure how I came to be outside
still shocked by your sly infidelity
yet I try to practice lasting things you taught
like the need for sweet and constant charity…….

© Stewart Henderson

We asked poet Stewart Henderson to write an ‘ode to the church’ for Worth The Ask, above is his response.

Post Written by Stewart Henderson Image by Flickr user Crossett Library Bennington College

In his latest book ‘The Sacredness of Questioning Everything‘, David Dark reflects on a scene from the film version of Katherine Paterson’s Bridge to Terabithia…

Throughout the film, ten-year-old Jess Aarons has his sense of competitiveness, propriety, and what’s fair questioned by a creative, free-spirited ten-year-old girl named Leslie Burke.  In the woods adjoining their homes, they journey out on a daily basis to adventure in an imaginary realm they created.  Their play, centred around an old dilapidated tree house they reassembled regularly calls into existence the magical kingdom of Terabithia.

One Friday, when they’ve been rained out, Jess laments that Saturday’s chores will take precedence over Terabithia and that he’s got church the next day.  When Leslie asks if she can come, Jess feels certain she will hate church (females are expected to wear dresses), but Leslie insists, suspecting she’ll find it all incredibly cool.

“I’m really glad I came,” she observes on the ride home with Jess and his little sister May Belle, in the back of a truck.  ”That whole Jesus thing is really interesting, isn’t it?…It’s really kind of a beautiful story.”

Reared to believe that Christianity is never to be talked about in such casual tones, May Belle protests with an exasperated lisp, “It ain’t beautiful.  It’s scary!  Nailing holes right through somebody’s hand.”

Then Jess chimes in, “May Belle’s right.  It’s because we’re all vile sinners that God made Jesus die.”

“You really think that’s true?” Leslie asks.

“It’s in the bible Leslie,” Jess interjects with a tone of resigned finality, as if such grim consent to the bleak ways of the divine is where all rightly informed people eventually arrive.

“You have to believe it, but you hate it,” Leslie notes with a puzzled smile.  ”I don’t have to believe it, and I think it’s beautiful.”

“You gotta believe the Bible, Leslie,” May Belle asserts, interrupting Leslie’s meditation.

“Why?” Leslie asks.

“Cause if you don’t believe in the Bible, God’ll damn you to he’ll when you die.”

Taken aback by the image of God as an angry judge who would consign those who fail to believe rightly to eternal agony and by the difficulties of reconciling this image of a God known most fully in Jesus, Leslie asks for her source.  May Belle can’t quote chapter and verse, but she can turn to Jess, who reluctantly agrees that somewhere in the Bible it can be plainly discerned that failure to comply with it’s contents will result in a fate worse than death.

“Well,” Leslie said, “I don’t think so.  I seriously do not think God goes around damning people to hell.  He’s too busy running all this.”

And Leslie raises her arms (it seems to me in praise) to signal an awareness of the wind, the sky, the trees, and the entire bright and beautiful landscape through which they’re driving.

“But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?” – Mark 8 v 29

Post Written by Juls Hollidge Image by KOREphotos More info on David Dark

I guess I am now brave enough to admit that I was never pro this revolution. I thought it was unfair to compare ourselves to Tunisia, no two revolutions are the same. Besides, their education rate is the same as ours, multiplied! They are a small country of 10 million, we are 80 million. How will we organise ourselves? How will we make our demands heard? Besides we are a nation that has learned submission before even learning to walk, how will ALL of us walk to our freedom?

Before January 25th, if you had taken a walk down any street in Cairo, you would have seen herds of people with the same expression, disappointment, manifested in many forms.  From the angry faces of the two cab drivers fighting, to the mother yelling at her child to not let go of her hand, each had the same body posture, they walked with their heads down, shoulders dropped and everyone looked like they had just lost a battle. How could you motivate all of these people that have been drenched in disinterest their whole lives to go down and march for their freedom?

Then January 25th came, and what started out as a march initiated by a Facebook group and organized by Twitter enthusiasts, ended up being a march of millions. I, like everyone else became intrigued, so I went down to Tahrir square, and I was in tears.

The first time I went was on Tuesday, the 25th, I couldn’t get in because it was too crowded. Then I went again on the 28th, ‘bloody Friday’. I met a group of friends in a coffee shop next to Mostapha Mahmood mosque and we waited for people to finish their Friday prayers so that we could start the march to Tahrir Square. As we waited, we saw one police truck after the other standing in front of the Mosque, then a friend of mine told me “..there was a rumor last night that Christians will form a cordon around every mosque to allow people to pray in peace”. We all smiled, some of us even teared up, then the rest is history.

We marched that day. I will not go through the horror of that day, but would rather share with you the incredible unity and how organised that march was. People were walking around distributing tear gas masks, then many others followed them with vinegar bottles spraying its contents on our masks to minimize the gas’ effects.  The highlight of those was a girl who used a Victoria’s Secret plastic perfume bottle filled with vinegar. Then when the tear gas bombs erupted, many were walking around screaming “don’t rub your eyes with your hands”, followed by several others carrying tissue rolls to help us dry the tears coming off our eyes, followed by others with Pepsi cans to spray on our faces to help minimize the gas effects. At some point, people would shift positions with those in the first line because it is their turn now ‘to take the first blow of gas bombs’. As for the girls, the men were heavily surveying them, every time the march would start running, the men would surround us, and guide us to the safest side of the march for protection.

This attitude is what embarrassed me from having this previous anti revolution mentality. I was too busy focusing on how defeated we have always been that I forgot how caring and peaceful we, the Egyptians, have always been. You would want these beautiful people to win because they deserved it, it made you feel that it is not just a fight for freedom, but rather a fight to flourish the good heart that everyone has in this country, and was screaming to prove its existence. It was a wake up call to a human side in us that we never thought was that big. As for the love of Egypt, I wish I could share it with you, but my emotional sentiments will override my writing capabilities and this article will never be concluded!

When the Alexandria bombings of Christians happened on the 1st of January 2011, we were all dumbfounded. We all watched the news and couldn’t believe this was happening in our country. We never realised that there is such a thing as ‘Christian’ and ‘Muslim’ until this bombing happened. We started looking up the word ‘sectarian’ in the dictionary because we honestly had no clue what it meant. Everyone was terrified that it would split us up, because all of a sudden we became accused of an issue that we never understood because it simply never existed in our heads, and this is coming from me: a Muslim who went to a Christian school for ten years. None of us foresaw these bombings, if the news here had announced that the Loch Ness monster has been found and has been hiding all this time in the Nile river, people would have believed it more than the Alex bombings. So when the Coptic Christmas came up on January the 7th, several Muslims decided to go to church, some attended the ceremonies and some stood outside to protect the Christians inside.

And when the January 25th revolution happened, it did confirm to us that these sectarian issues have nothing to do with us, because by the time I took that picture and I shared it on Twitter, I thought I was simply sharing a nice sight, as this was perhaps the tenth time Egyptians had seen Christians and Muslims protecting each other during their prayers. I never expected it to be such a worldwide sensation as it was communicating a gesture that we were all used to seeing here. Funnily enough, my Egyptian friends on Facebook didn’t share it because they never felt it was newsworthy.

You may choose to believe me or not, I am of no profession to preach about what is and what is not Sectarian in my country. I am simply one of the 80 million people who loves their country, who believes in the good in it, in the kindness of its people, in their immense ability to believe, to build and to smile for a better tomorrow. And that it is an amazing privilege to be Egyptian, and we are all grateful for January the 25th for re-igniting this pride in all of us.

Post Written by Nevine Zaki Yfrog Photo by Nevine Zaki

It is a hard road, but it leads to a better future

George Osbourne, Chancellor

This is not a spending review – it’s a massacre

Derek Simpson, joint leader of the Unite union

We all know we are living in an age of austerity and that these cuts will affect us all, but our members understand that to reduce the public sector deficit, these cuts had to be made

John Walker, Chairman of the Federation of Small Businesses

Today’s reckless gamble with people’s livelihoods runs the risk of stifling the fragile recovery

Alan Johnson, Shadow Chancellor

The spending cuts, though painful, are essential to balance the UK’s books and build its future prosperity

Richard Lambert, CBI director general

I’ve already called it the greatest macro-economic mistake in years.  There’s no example in history where such a thing as this has ever worked. The only examples in history is where you’ve done this and it’s failed

David Blanchflower, Economist

Business has been clear, the deficit must be tackled, no matter what

David Frost, director general, British Chambers of Commerce

As the dust settles on the Chancellor’s Spending Review, many still face the uncertainty of how they will be affected, whilst others settled into their bunkers long ago expecting a rough ride.  It’s fair to say that reaching a consensus on the current economic policy is simply out of the question and the best we can hope for is to make it back with as many men as possible.  The review is unsettling, not just because things are changing but because we’re not sure if it’s for the better. As we’re faced with the consequences of a succession of bad decisions, a sense of uncertainty asks if we’re making any better ones.

So how do we choose how to spend?  What criteria is there in order for us to determine whether we need to invest more or cut back?  Should a similar question be asked of us personally?

How do we ‘spend’ as individuals within our relationships, our finances or even our time?  What criteria determines what we invest in and what we cut back on?  Are we motivated by what we get in return, by what’s expected of us or by a desire for a better future?  How do we prevent ourselves or our churches from becoming spent or worse still….tight?

Post Written by Juls Hollidge

In a recent interview with Derek Lomas, a founding member of the Playpower Foundation, we asked what he thought the capacity or role of social media is, both in his context and a wider context.  For Playpower this question is not just one of theory but a key factor in how they bring about social change and innovation.   Playpower was created to foster development of affordable, effective and fun learning games for underprivileged children around the world.  They harness the collective input of an open sourced community that collaborate together via social media.  In answer to our question, Derek suggested that social media is a valuable tool or catalyst, however it is not an end in itself.  In a creative stroke of insight he paints the picture of a party.  A good space to throw it in is essential but it doesn’t make a good party.  The people make the party.  The host makes the party.

*Note that this is very different to the less authentic ‘Come Dine With Me’ version!

Often with technology we tend to forget that it doesn’t make the party, it’s how we use it and who uses it (please see ‘church sound systems’ for more information).  Social media conjures much deliberation from all sides, those who love it and those who loathe it.  However in our rush to embrace it have we fully understood it’s capacity or role both in our own context and in the wider context of society?  In harnessing it’s potential as a tool and a catalyst have we also considered the other variables at play?  What part does the offline, the environment, the culture and the purpose play?  In the context of the church should we continue to teach everyone how to use Facebook or should we examine what we want to catalyse?  When considering the analogy of the hosts should we be investing in those whose hospitality online comes naturally or is it simply a case of he who tweets more wins?

Post Written by Juls Hollidge

I cannot understand something until I know its definition.  My reasoning for this is the increasing amount of times I have used a word in conversation only to find the context is whole-heartedly wrong and I am indeed wedged in an embarrassing situation…again (for reference ilk is ‘of the same kind’, elk is ‘a large North American deer’).  Finding a good definition though is not easy.

There are many definitions of the same word and in different contexts it can mean something else entirely.  However definition brings understanding, even if it can’t be as fenced off as we’d like.  It enables us to dig to the very root, the starting place, to find the original components and intention. From here we begin the journey of translating it into the many contexts we choose to use it in.  What happens though when our definition leads us to the wrong starting place or when we accept the fenced off version rather than digging down to the raw beginnings?  What if we’re seeking to define much more than just the colour blue?

As we develop our definition so too does our expectation grow.  Whether we’re defining life, love or God we develop expectations of what they should be. When our start is skewed however, we end up with unrealistic expectations, when our definition is fenced we find our expectations limited.  Sometimes it’s a combination of both.  How then do we translate these words into the many contexts we find ourselves in?  What definition and expectations of love do we bring to marriage?  What definition and expectations of life do we bring to work?  What definitions and expectations of God do we bring to our world?

Is it time for all of us to grab a shovel and dig again?

Post Written by Juls Hollidge Image by Flickr user: Roadsidepictures