On messiness and incarnation

The first Christmas was really quite messy. I’ve been thinking a lot about that this week.

The incarnation – God showing up in flesh – is a messy way to kick off a saving mission. Surely he could have just done it with a trumpet and an angel or somesuch. 

But there he was – showing up in flesh. As a baby. In a barn. Messy!

One of the names the prophet Isaiah gives Jesus is exactly this – “Emmanuel”, “God with us”. 

Because true love is incarnational – it involves showing up in the flesh.

 That God-showing-up-with-us-on-the-first-Christmas was messy. But showing up in flesh often is! 

And in the same way he showed up in flesh for us, so we are called to do the same for others… In all of its glorious messiness.

All of that to say: My prayer for you this year is that your Christmas is messy.

On Decades…

Ten years ago today, Mrs Hills and I left Australia. It was the kind of move you can only really make once, given the recklessness of it – quit your jobs, sell your stuff, buy one way ticket, and jump, unemployed, into the great unknown.

And what a ride it’s been. We’ve lived in the UK, UAE, and even Jordan for a bit. We managed to bring two happy boys into the world! One with a confused hybrid accent and one who is still testing out syllables. Both are true delights.

We kept moving forward, even when the map was blank, and even when it warned us that “here be dragons” (there were, indeed, sometimes dragons. Most were slain; we reached an uneasy truce with others).

The seasons change and so have we – a desire for flexibility has given way to the joy of domestic rhythms; the joy of the quick-turn problem-solve has given way to longer horizons. We’ve learned the value of showing up – and being showed up for.

There have been good years and objectively rubbish years, along with years of plenty and years of scarce, supplemented by times of mourning and times of dancing (the dancing was not me).

In all, there has been “a time for everything”, as ancient wisdom puts it.

What of the next ten? Who knows! Lots of love, books, hugs and hopefully marginally less dancing (or, at the very least, less Chicken Banana)

On years…

There are years of your life, and there are years of your life.

There are years of just living, and there are years of consequence. Of growth, of pain, of stretching, and jubilation.

…years of your life, and years of your life.

I’ve been thinking about this lately – 2025 being a year of incredible consequence, joy and stretch for us.

There is something meaningful in the rhythm of “big times” and “small times”.

And this is also ancient truth. Ecclesiastes puts it this way: “For everything there is a season…”

In modern life, we’ve become divorced from the seasons and rhythms of existence.

You want a tropical mango in a freezing blizzard in London? You’ve got it!

You want all of the world’s knowledge on a little black rectangle in your pocket? Voila!

…and that’s not healthy.

There are years and there are years… And accepting that is freeing.

It lets you mourn when you should mourn…
It lets you celebrate when you should celebrate…
It lets you stretch when you should stretch…
It lets you harvest when it’s time, or accept when the harvest has failed…

…and it lets you live in the days that you are given.

It enables you to not worry about tomorrow (a wise man once said that tomorrow had enough worries of its own), but rather to let the day unfold as it unfolds.

And sometimes that unfolds in years of consequence.

…sometimes in months of sadness.
…and, often, in days of mere, but blissful, mundanity.

There are years, and there are years. And that’s a good thing.

On one’s early 20s…

I had a surreal moment driving down the highway the other day. 

A song from 2008 came on, and I was suddenly struck with the vivid, tangible, memory of being in my early 20s… 

You might remember it. That desire for a future you can’t quite put into words yet… A feeling of dissatisfaction and listlessness… a sense that the world doesn’t take you seriously quite as you are… 

…an odd, persistent, feeling of life being a bit incomplete.

Of course, I wasn’t incomplete, and, in fact, life was pretty good… I just didn’t know it yet.

And as quick as that, the sensation passed, and I was filled with gratitude. For the love of my wife, for the joy of my two healthy sons, for a meaningful career, for “ride or die” friends, and for the graciousness of God.

This post doesn’t really have a point, but I wish that I could give 2008 me a hug and tell me that it all turns out ok…

…that I wasn’t really incomplete; I was just impatient and should enjoy the ride.

PS: what music does to your brain is wild.

On the gap between disappointment and fulfilment…

I wrote the below on Holy Saturday during the first year of the pandemic. I’ve thought about “the gap between disappointment and fulfilment” a lot since. Reproducing my original post here in full.

—————-

Each year I am struck by what a sense of isolation and helplessness the disciples must have felt on the first Good Friday and Holy Saturday.


All they had known for years came crashing down around them. Their messiah and deliverer died an ignominious death on a Roman cross.
The disciples had in their hearts a vision of political revolution; the establishment of an earthly kingdom. But what they had before their eyes was a crucified leader.


It is easy for us now, on Good Friday and Holy Saturday, to know that we are about to celebrate the resurrection. We know that we can celebrate His death on Friday because his resurrection on Sunday is on the way.


But in that moment, the disciples knew nothing of what was to come. 


They hadn’t read to the end of the book – of the victory to come. And even if they had, it was a different victory than the one they had anticipated, and they could not have comprehended, with their religious-political mindset.


But Jesus did know the end of the story. He knew of the victory to come. He knew Sunday was on the way.


Despite our strange isolation this year, we cannot really fully understand what the disciples went through on that first Easter. But we can empathise with the isolation and a sense of helplessness.


More importantly – we can remind ourselves that Jesus knows the end of the story. Isolation is not the end.

Victory – in some form or another – is on the way.


Sunday is on the way.

Remembering My Grandad

My grandad would have been 86 today. He was truly a great man. Here is a little message I wrote to be read at his funeral back in 2021.

Personal Reflection – James – February 2021

Because he was such a magical man to all who met him, it is difficult to put into words the many ways in which Grandad was special to me. 

We grandkids used to say that grandad was a Very. Busy. Man. Even after retirement, he was always up to something… whether he was working with other seniors to help them learn computers, building something in the garage, or caring for Nana… he was always BUSY… but all that ‘busy-ness’ belied something very meaningful. 

And it is in that ‘busy-ness’ that Grandad showed his amazing example of what it meant to be a good man. And he showed it to everyone. He was always teaching, even if it wasn’t in words – whether that “all work is honourable”, that you cannot comment on other people’s toilet noises, that you should work hard, or what the true meaning of the “for better or worse” vow means.

He was an amazing example to all, but to me, grandad was so much more. And the five grandchildren were extremely lucky to have had him. Every day in our lives, we knew that grandad loved us all unconditionally. Some of my earliest memories are sitting around the dining table at Orchard St for Sunday lunch, him throwing off his Britishness to be goofy and make us laugh. As I got older, he imparted his love for technology, for gardening and for JRR Tolkien.

He was also incredibly kind and thoughtful. The last time we saw grandad, he made a show of taking Bec by the hands and giving a short speech about how he loved her, welcomed her to the family and considered her a daughter. I know he would have done the same for our little boy in a few weeks. 

There really aren’t any words that can truly explain what Grandad meant to me.

I miss you, Grandad. You leave an unfillable, eccentric-man-sized-hole in my life. 

We will see you again, and we will talk about the madness of life once more. 

Until then, in the words of our friend Mr Tolkien: “I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.”

On valuing fatherhood

As life trundles on, fewer things irritate me. Life’s too short to sweat the small stuff.

But there are two words that absolutely make my blood boil: “Daddy daycare”.

My gosh.

I shouldn’t need to say it, but me spending time with my kid is not daycare. It’s parenting.

The 90s sitcom stereotype of the hapless, only-vaguely present father did a lot of damage to fatherhood. The narrative undermines the critical role each of us plays.

Bec and I might be better at different parts of this weird and wonderful parenting journey, but… spending time with my son is literally the least I can do to be a decent parent!

Doesn’t matter if I’m his Dad or his Mum… It’s not daycare. It’s parenting.

Some of the great dads I know, like my friend Pete, or the inimitable Bandit Heeler (iykyk) are good dads because they’re simply present. They go to the park (when they’d rather be sleeping), play a stupid made up game (when Netflix is preferable) an they’re there to listen (even when wrung out).

My son needs me to play with him, cook for him, clean up his stuff. And I’ll happily do it.

But lets not call it daycare. It’s parenting.

Furthermore, #CocomelonDelendaEst

Capitalism ain’t broke but it might need fixing

Bernie Sanders is angry about capitalism. He has told us in the title of his latest book that “It’s OK to Be Angry About Capitalism”. But is socialism the answer? Probably not – but…

What can capitalists with an interest in a social impact do short of transitioning to socialism?

Firstly, philanthropy remains a compelling option. There are increasingly impactful ways to donate money to worthy causes – donor-advised funds, outcomes-based contracts, establishing foundations and bequests.

Secondly, ESG approaches. There is an increasing understanding that pursuit of pure short-term profit at any cost is not sustainable for anyone. Investors, institutions and family offices can apply ESG (environmental/social/governance) approaches to their operations and investments. In essence, these are risk mitigation tools to examine the ESG implications of a company’s investments and activities. Does it harm the earth? Does it harm our suppliers? Does it harm people? All questions with long-term impacts on the company and society.

The reputation of ESG has taken a small battering in certain markets lately (partially due to inconsistent application of standards, and partially due to culture wars). However, it is hard to see how this kind of basic due diligence on matters other than the bottom line is “wokery”, and there is increasing evidence of a correlation between good ESG practices and positive financial and business outcomes (see my earlier post from May!). In the coming years, ESG considerations will not just be a ‘nice to have’ but a key part of any organisation’s standard operating procedure.

Thirdly, socially responsible (or ‘conscious’) investing (SRI). SRI is, in essence, a form of negative screening. It sets out the types of activities or investments the organisation is not willing to give capital to. For some organisations, this might be tobacco, fossil fuels, extractives, or areas with high risk of illicit labour. The actual parameters vary from organisation to organisation but the ‘negative screening’ (i.e. screening out opportunities) is its hallmark.

Lastly, impact investing. A touch further than the others, because it flips the coin. Rather than risk-mitigating or screening out, impact investing actively seeks catalytic change with its capital. The peak body for impact investing, the Global Impact Investing Network, differentiates it by describing the activity as “investments made with the intention to generate positive, measurable social and environmental impact alongside a financial return”. Namely, intentionally seeking a financial return and an impact return. Impact investing involves intentionally seeking impactful opportunities. So there is an opportunity to do well while doing good. No need to give it away when you can catalyse change and recycle the capital for re-investing.

Can we fix the perception of capitalism’s heart being avarice-driven through risk mitigation? Negative screening? Impact investing? Perhaps. Perhaps not. But in the meantime it’s not okay to just be angry. We can do something about it.