More Greenpeace lies

Amongst all the spin and lies amongst the environmental movement at the moment, there are none so shameless as Greenpeace and WWF.

Here is the latest Greenpeace con job.

From Andrew Bolt:

Andrew Bolt



The Greenpeace ad, claiming our Great Barrier Reef is being destroyed:


But wait. That picture of dead coral is actually of coral in the Philippines, and was lifted from another Greenpeace publication:


Even more amazing, Greenpeace had actually used that picture to demonstrate how coral killed by a cyclone could actually grow back. Don’t panic!

Apo Island’s community-managed marine sanctuary is considered one of the best of its kind in the world. Established in the mid1980s, the sanctuary became a beacon of hope that damaged reefs can, with proper protection, management, and community buy-in, be restored back to health. ..

Strong storm surges decimated the corals and washed them ashore. The sanctuary, once known to be teeming with marine life was left devastated and now resembles a coral graveyard. Fortunately the reefs on the other sides of the island were spared. But while the damage to the sanctuary was significant not all was lost because marine life around the island was already healthy…

Apo Island’s success story has always been a model of hope for the Philippine seas. 

What a con. Here’s Greenpeace using a dodgy picture to push a dodgy scare about a dodgy warming theory – with the result that it’s likely to drive away tourists.

It’s also pretending nothing is being doing to “save” the Reef, when in fact more than $2 billion of taxpayers’ money is being spent over the next decade to protect it.

Has Greenpeace no shame?


Shear Madness

I took a step towards insanity today. 

First I read this article by Tim Blair, which was harmless:

Be polite to sheep – or face investigation: 

A case of alleged animal abuse in the far west of New South Wales has led to debate about whether sheep can comprehend human speech …

It was alleged sheep were abused verbally during shearing.

Brilliant response from the farmer whose station was accused of the sheep rudeness:

For Ken Turner, who operates Boorungie Station, the obvious answer to the quandary was to ask the sheep themselves to corroborate the evidence.


Then I clicked on one of the links which took me here, and that is where the madness really took hold:

A case of alleged animal abuse in the far west of New South Wales has led to debate about whether sheep can comprehend human speech.

It began in September last year, when the New South Wales branch of the RSPCA received a tip-off about the alleged mistreatment of sheep, including verbal abuse, that were being shorn at Boorungie Station, 130 kilometres from Broken Hill.

The complaint was lodged by People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA), which had apparently obtained footage and testimony from an undercover operative working at the station.

For Ken Turner, who operates Boorungie Station, the complaint itself suggests the sheep could at least understand English.

“The basis for the concerns was the rights of the animals, that they might have been harassed by viewing things they shouldn’t have seen or verbal abuse by people using bad language,” he said.

“To my knowledge, there was no actual cruelty on the job.

“The allegation was that bad language was used by an employee on the property in front of the sheep, and that they could have been offended by the use of bad language.”

Steve Coleman, CEO of NSW RSPCA, said the war over the words began when it was decided, for reasons that remain unclear, that the video footage was not legally usable.

“We felt the footage was inadmissible and therefore we relied on what oral evidence came from both parties,” he said.

“It was conflicting, and on that basis we were unable to continue.

“The evidence that was available basically came down to one person’s word against another.”

While Mr Coleman did not deny that verbal abuse was a factor, he insisted the complaint contained more concerning issues than just bad language.

“Certainly there were other concerns well beyond yelling at sheep,” he said.

While describing claims about verbal abuse of animals as “rare”, Mr Coleman said the RSPCA took such allegations seriously.

The allegation was that bad language was used by an employee on the property in front of the sheep.

Ken Turner, Boorungie Station

“If there is an allegation that puts at risk an animal that would cause it unnecessary suffering and distress, we would investigate it,” he said.

“I don’t know if it matters what language is used. An animal is not going to understand it.”

But Nicolah Donovan, president of Lawyers for Animals, said animals did understand.

“I think it is conceivable that verbal abuse of an extreme nature against an animal, whether it be human, sheep or otherwise, could constitute an act of violence,” she said.

“We have accepted that domestic violence can certainly be constituted by acts of extreme verbal abuse, particularly when the victim of the abuse is especially vulnerable – if they have a low fear threshold or they lack understanding that the verbal abuse isn’t going to proceed to a physical threat against them.

“This might be the case with children or farm animals, and the level of abuse needn’t be that extreme to cause that kind of fear in an animal.”


Click on the link to read the full article if you dare.

Any article quoting any member of PETA or Animal Liberation or, good grief, Lawyers For Animals should come with a trigger warning for extreme stupidity.

Get a grip people. Animals are not humans. They cannot understand human speech. They do not have a sense of morality. Do not equate children and farm animals that is just insulting.

Reflection on Romans 8:22-27



And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words.


All of creation is groaning, awaiting the new creation- the new heavens and the new earth.

Believers also groan, looking for an end to sin and suffering. We look forward to receiving our full inheritance as children of God.

In the meantime, we have the Holy Spirit to help us in our weakness. When we don’t know how to pray, the Holy Spirit intercedes with groans that cannot be expressed in words.


Part of the ministry of the Holy Spirit is to direct our praying.

The world is such a broken place, people are so caught in sin, that it is hard to know how to pray for people, situations or nations. But the Holy Spirit can show us exactly how to pray. Listening to the Spirit is essential to effective prayer.

This ministry of intercession is part of the gift of tongues. When we pray in the Spirit, we are allowing the Spirit of God to direct and form the words we use. Our words, incomprehensible to us, become a part of the groaning of the Spirit.


Holy Spirit, teach me how to listen to you in my prayer times and to let you direct the words I use. Amen.

Reflection on Acts 2:1-21



No, what you see was predicted long ago by the prophet Joel.”


It is the Jewish feast of Pentecost and all the believers are together. Suddenly there is a sound like a mighty wind-storm, and something that looks like tongues of fire appears ad settles on each one.

Everyone is filled with the Holy Spirit and they begin peaking in tongues. Onlookers from around the world are amazed at the noise and the fact that they can hear the believers praising God in their own native languages.

Some mock them as being drunk, but Peter refutes this . This is the fulfilment of Joel’s prophecy that the Holy Spirit would be poured out on all people.


The Holy Spirit is the birth right of all born again believers. The gifts of the Holy Spirit are the power that makes evangelism, and all ministry, possible.

We all need a regular infilling, a “top up” of Holy Spirit power because it is so easy to take our attention away from the presence of God and focus on the things we can see.

The gift of tongues is the gateway gift to the other gifts. If we let Holy Spirit control our tongue, He has control of every part of us.

All flesh”, every true follower of Jesus, has access to the power and grace of the Holy Spirit. Call on Him today.


Holy Spirit come. Come and fill me in the same way you filled those early disciples. Empower me, equip me, overflow in me. Amen.

Holy Spirit Holes

I hadn’t heard of this before, but it sounds quite wonderful.

From St John’s Lutheran Church in Lewistown, USA “Serving Christ and the Community since 1796”:

The Dark Ages, from about the fifth century to the beginning of the eleventh century, was a time of cultural bleakness, after Rome had been sacked and its empire destroyed. It was essentially a six hundred year Great Depression, when food was scarce, people lived hand-to-mouth, and Western Civilization barely hung by a thread. The one bright spot in the culture was the local cathedral, which was like a church-sponsored works project, reminiscent of those of FDR during our own Great Depression. The work gave thousands of people jobs, and the cathedrals, which were built even in small towns, became the cultural, social and spiritual centers of life. Ironically, it was these Dark Ages that produced some of the most beautiful murals, sculpture, stained-glass windows, and pageantry, which, in a time of great illiteracy, helped to teach the stories of the faith.

The cathedrals were centers of community life, the court-house for local lawmakers, a place where travelers could find a meal and safe lodging. On the outside, booths selling everything from flowers to sausage surrounded the cathedral, as they do in most European cities even today. The presence of a large, busy cathedral in the center of a village guaranteed a relatively stable economic base, and was the center of life for most people.

Pentecost was one of the great holidays celebrated in these cathedrals. In fact, many of them were built with special consideration for this great festival. The great domed and vaulted ceilings, so richly painted, disguised a number of trap doors that were used expressly for Pentecost celebrations. During worship, some hapless parishioners would be drafted to climb up on the roof. At the appropriate moment during the liturgy, they would release live doves through the trap doors, through the painted skies and clouds of the cathedral ceiling. These doves would come swooping down on the congregation as living symbols of the presence of the Holy Spirit. At the same moment, the choirboys were encouraged to make whooshing and drumming sounds, like a holy windstorm. Then, finally, as the doves swooped and the winds rose, the trap doors were again opened, and bushels of rose petals were showered upon the congregation, symbolizing tongues of flame falling upon the faithful below.

The holes through which this was done were called, “Holy Spirit holes.” You can image the wonder and delight that an event like that would bring into the hard, drab lives of those medieval Christians!

Today, we don’t have any holes in the ceiling like that. I suppose if we did something like that today, we’d have to use a laser display and some special audio-visual effects – a little “smoke and mirrors.” It still would not create the same kind of impression – people are so used to having exciting entertainment experiences. Yet today, I think we need “Holy Spirit holes” more than ever. Not the kind that serve as props for a medieval worship experience, but openings and conduits through which God’s Spirit can enter, permeate and revitalize people who are caught up in this violent, narcissistic, hedonistic, materialistic-oriented culture. We need Christians to serve as “Holy Spirit holes” – witnessing to the power of God’s love in this world. We need Christians who are willing to be conduits of God’s grace in a graceless world.

Read the full article here

Sarah Bessey: Happy-clappy


When I was a child, I sat in the front row of the church. I danced while the guitar played three-chord songs, kicking my feet in front of me, hopping from side to side, skinny arms outstretched. I learned to worship at the community centre, surrounded by misfit disciples who were on a first-name basis with resurrection. I sang the old songs about the blood of Jesus making me white as snow.

The church ladies would bring swaths of airy fabric, about two metres long apiece. I held onto one end and swung my flag. This was no banner for a war; this was a a homemade flag for a kid in a homemade church to wave. Sometimes, sure, I spun that flag around, hoping for people to notice me, to think that I was spiritual and holy, to think that I was beautiful and devoted. It was prideful at times, self-centred, but then there were those moments that broke through my own childish yearning to be noticed, to please the grown-ups, the moments when I felt the Spirit rush through my body and out through the fabric, like we were one, and I would spin like a star in the heavens, and I swear to you now that I felt the smile of God on me like wind, like water, like chains were falling off before they were even forged. I learned to pray with my body, relentless and free.

Then slowly, it seemed as if no one really danced in church anymore. Dancing with flags became something we made fun of, like duelling tambourines and long services and “falling out” in the Spirit and daring to pray for healing. We made fun of it to domesticate it, perhaps, or to heal ourselves from the abuse of it, but something in my thumbs still pricked, the Spirit isn’t afraid of being ridiculous, after all.

I wandered through other church traditions, traditional, contemporary, liturgical, meditative, mystic, seeker-sensitive, emerging, ancient-future, denominational, mega-church, old church, new church, basement church, no church for a while there: you name it, I found my way there and I found the people of God in each place, I did.

But my roots belong where I was first planted, I’ve reconciled myself to that now. I used to think I could travel far from where I began, but instead, I travelled only to find myself home again, like Richard Rohr says, as if I am only now seeing it for the first time.

We are so beautiful.

We sit in folding chairs in a school gym, one of the great cathedrals of my life. The pine benches line the walls, electrical tape holds the wires for the mics down, the stage can be broken down and set back up again every Sunday morning and Saturday night. This is my familiar place to encounter God.


Read the full article here