When he dies messages of condolence and sympathy will flood in. Wreaths will be laid, memorial services will be held and millions, maybe billions of people around the world will mourn one of the greatest men who ever lived. His life – and more specifically the actions that shaped his life – have earned such a send-off.

Last week Friday I was called to Benoni after my gran passed away in the company of the people she loved most. She was 89, and had lived a most remarkable life. This was no more evident than in her funeral on Wednesday – an event that was not clouded by regret, but illuminated by celebration. Her life was such that she had no unfinished business.

She was gracious beyond reason. She faced every challenge that life threw at her – two bouts of cancer, a World War, the loss of her husband after only 7 years of marriage – with admirable strength and resolve, and an unshakeable faith that anchored it all in place.

I see so many parallels in the grace she showed others, and the gratitude she expressed for every moment she had on this earth, to the life of Nelson Mandela. It’s not for their achievements that we hold these special people in such high esteem – it’s for their actions. Actions that fly in the face of what the world tells us is right, or normal. Actions that defy logic. Actions that change the fabric of society.

When Madiba dies… wait, screw that… BEFORE Madiba dies, seek to honour him and those that are like him in this world by not just sending out a compassionate tweet, or updating your Facebook status to “RIP Tata”. Seek to honour him by ACTING abnormally. ACT with grace, compassion and forgiveness:

Write that letter to that person who you need to make peace with.

Smile at strangers.

Give something away – something that is of value to you.

Stop collecting things and start collecting memories.

Love without fear.

I figure if I can do these things, if I can change the way I act and be just a little more like the kind of person Nelson Mandela is, and my gran was, then I am truly honouring them. The minister who officiated my gran’s funeral said, “people only die when we stop talking about them”. The lives of my gran and Nelson Mandela will best be honoured when we try and act like them.

The interesting thing is that we’ve built our friendship, and I dare say common respect for each other, despite the fact that there is a glaring difference between us; I am a Christian – a follower of Jesus – and he’s a “militant atheist” (to quote Rich himself). Rich is not shy to express his opinion(s) either – and he always makes a compelling argument. This post is a response to a recent debate that started on Twitter after I retweeted the following Phillip Yancey (I have no explanation for his hairstyle) quote: “I left the church because I found so little grace there. I came back because I found grace nowhere else.”

I retweeted it specifically because I identified with Yancey’s experience of the church, and also because having read some of his literature, I understand the definition of grace in the context that Yancey uses it. Rich took exception to the quote, saying “how sad for you (and Yancey). I find grace all over the place. Open your eyes/mind”. And so a debate ensued.

In the interest of not clouding Twitter with our argument, I decided to explain what I meant here. Rich felt that I was making a sweeping statement about the “un-churched” (by which I presume he means people that don’t go to a church), implying that if you don’t go to church you’re unable to display grace. This was certainly not my intention at all.

There are three things about the quote I want to pick up on that will hopefully paint a clearer picture of what I was saying. Firstly, the quote does not state that “people find grace nowhere else”, it spoke specifically of Yancey’s personal experience. I shared his sentiments, having worked in the church and belonged to churches for many years and being surprised at just how ungracious a place the ‘body of Christ’ can be in reality. This was not an attempt at educating anyone, pointing fingers at anyone or even making a general statement about anyone – it was simply a quote that stood out to me as representative of my journey. That’s my first point, Rich – this was not at all meant to be a statement in general, and I apologise if it was taken as so.

Secondly I want to talk about the definitions of ‘grace’ and ‘church’. How you react to this particular quote revolves primarily around how you understand these terms. Rich was unimpressed when I said that our definitions may be different, as he believes that “Grace is grace… good will, caring, compassion. All those things exist everywhere.” I couldn’t agree more on that point Rich – I’ve experienced goodwill, caring and compassion everywhere and on a daily basis. But I said GRACE for a reason – because although grace incorporates things like goodwill, caring and compassion on one layer, for me it has a far deeper meaning and implication. Without wanting to get too theological, my very simple explanation for my definition of grace is something like unconditional love. Or, to use one of the definitions in the list that Rich provided, “the freely given, unmerited favor and love of god.” That’s my definition of grace, and I don’t expect it to be Rich’s, I simply expect him to understand that that is the context I used the word in.

On a personal note my entire Christian journey has been characterised by a struggle (and now I’m really sharing) to understand the concept of grace. For some reason it is very difficult to understand why God would love me without me earning that love. This struggle plays out in my relationship with God and with others – I always feel that I need to do something, or be someone, to be loved outright. In my relationship with God and in community with people who share my beliefs I have at times tasted just a small sample of that grace, and it is the reason I still believe what I do. It has been asked of me more than once, “why does someone as smart as you believe in God?”… My response is, because I have experienced his gracious love in an undeniably tangible way. That is my reality, and I cannot escape it.

Then, I mentioned that I wanted to explain my understanding of the word ‘church’ too. Church, as I understand it, is not a building. It’s not a set of rules, dogma and legalism arranged into various denominations either. I could care less for religion – its laws, its institutions, its rules. I believe that ‘church’ is a community of people who believe what you believe and want to share, learn, grow and worship with you in that belief. And ideally in a state of grace. So church can be me and two mates at Tashas over a cup of coffee, if need be. It can also be Rhema. And everything in between. But I make a big distinction between Church and Religion. Religion is fraught with powerful individuals trying to prove they are right and everyone else is wrong. I don’t subscribe to that, not one bit. I’d like to believe that my friends have never experienced me as the kind of Christian who forces his beliefs on others, but at the same time as someone that is not afraid to call himself Christian.

I simply meant to say, by retweeting Yancey’s quote, that the church still has relevance in my faith journey because I experience some of God’s unconditional love through the community of believers I worship with. I haven’t experienced that unconditional love outside of that environment. Maybe I have been blind or naive, and I apologise if I come across short-sighted, but I have not. I have no doubt Rich and I will agree to disagree on this one, and I’m ok with that, what I am not ok with is him thinking that I am implying there is nothing good outside of the church. Rich, dude, that is just not true, and that is just not me.

Let the flaming commence… ;)

Update:

John van de Laar (@sacredise), who originally tweeted the Yancey quote I mentioned above, posted his response to the debate / conversation here – you may find it interesting.

Let me preface an introduction to it first by that I can’t remember the last time I washed my own car. I feel guilty about that fact because of my upbringing – my dad is one of those men’s men who believes that a man washes his car and is proud of doing so. He’ll get up at 7 on a Saturday and wash his car until it’s spotless. And I appreciate that – he is valuing the possessions he has worked very hard to obtain. I’m different. I could care less for washing my car. I like a clean car and feel good when it is so, but would far rather pay someone to do it for me. I use ‘job creation’ as an excuse…

You might have guessed that the business I am talking about is a humble car wash. Situated on South Rd by the Shell garage (near the Rivers church complex), Morning View car wash is a simple company with a winning formula. It’s not one of those machine washers, it’s a human-only, pressure-washer-powered experience followed by intensive drying and interior cleaning that leaves your car – forgive the cliche but it’s true – good as new.

The owners of the car wash know full well it’s not the easiest business to differentiate from competitors. We have our cars washed largely based on location and convenience. I don’t know many people who are loyal to a car wash! So in order to create loyalty and a repeat customer base they’ve come up with simple ideas that make the experience painless and professional. These were some of my observations:

1. Happy staff. It’s not rocket science… Happy staff mean great service. The supervisors don’t sit back barking orders to their underlings – they get involved, give advice, participate, clean the cars themselves. The most senior people are willing to do the crappiest jobs. It means their staff are interested and motivated. Perhaps they have a scheme in place that rewards staff based on the amount of vehicles they process, I’m not sure, but whatever they’re doing works. The staff I met were professional, smart and friendly. I went upstairs for lunch at Europa and the staff there could learn a lesson from the car washers in the basement…

2. It’s freakishly clean. Car washes are supposed to be littered with manky rags, cranky old vacuums, rubbish from cars, etc. But the whole area is kept clean and tidy, probably by the staff who actually care about where they work.

3. Above and beyond. I paid R 130 – R 70 for wash, dry, interior and tyre polish and R 60 for a leather treatment. Then after the clean, which was great, I asked one of the supervisors to look at an oily stain on the door panel leather, which he then proceeded to fix for me, no extra charge. Before I climbed back in my car someone had put a little carpet outside it to prevent me treading soapy water into the car. How’s that!? Just excellent service all round. Customers don’t remember businesses who do what they expect, they remember those that exceed their expectations.

The parking area underground was packed with at least 30 freshly washed cars, with many lined up to get washed outside. The valet area (R 400 whole day clean on every part of the car) was packed too. It’s simple – do great work and business will come, regardless of how ‘ordinary’ your occupation is.

Before you watch The Social Network, you must understand that it is not a documentary – it’s a Hollywood movie. Hollywood knows full well that the promise of the ‘true’ story behind the creation of Facebook has enough gravitas to put bums in cinema seats. Screenwriter Aaron Sorkin is quoted as saying, “I don’t want my fidelity to be to the truth; I want it to be to storytelling…”, and Dustin Moskovitz (played by Joseph Mazzello) described it as a “dramatisation of history”.

The story as told by the movie is simple – a brilliant and slightly awkward Harvard student creates a website that reinvents social networking on the Web, but the remarkable success of his creation impacts the relationships dearest to him, and not always for the better.

The movie is remarkable as a blockbuster in the sense that it relies heavily on character development with little to no sex, violence, effects or profanity as a drawcard. It’s not terribly funny, although the cleverly constructed script does squeeze in a few laughs here and there. And that’s where the quality is – a compelling story, weaved artfully with a fantastic script and some pretty solid performances from the young cast to boot.

Jesse Eisenberg is impressive as Mark Zuckerburg without being brilliant – it’s a role that shows potential for greater things than the awkward teenager disposition we saw in Adventureland and Zombieland (no relation). Other notables include Rooney Mara and Andrew Garfield (who is rumoured to be in line to play Peter Parker in an upcoming Spider-man reboot. Yes, another one…).

I was intrigued upon hearing that Nine Inch Nails frontman Trent Reznor would be behind the soundtrack but disappointed when the credits rolled and I couldn’t remember hearing it at all. Perhaps this is a good thing? Maybe it blended in so well that I was oblivious to it’s awesomeness.

This is a difficult movie to rate because I’m well aware the story of Facebook is probably more intriguing to me than the average viewer, but regardless of who you are there is no denying it is a well-written, skillfully constructed film atypical to it’s generation. I’m looking forward to your opinions though!

Rating: 6.5/10

Since then Shyamalan has attempted time and again to recreate the mystique and intrigue of The Sixth Sense, and with the exception of maybe one or two features (in my opinion The Village was very entertaining), has never come close.

When I noticed a tweet by Riccardo Webb stating his rather candid assessment of Shyamalan’s most recent fantasy foray, The Last Airbender, I got to thinking again about Shyamalan’s career. I knew that the young director had not enjoyed the critical acclaim of his breakout film for at least a decade, but what I didn’t realise was just how mathematical the decline was. A quick glance at IMDb (again, I love this site), revealed a startling statistic:

Since The Sixth Sense, every movie that Shyamalan spouts forth declines steadily in rating, as decided by the users of IMDb (movies require thousands of votes before even qualifying for a rating, so it’s a pretty solid indication of a movie’s quality), with The Last Airbender managing only 4.4! Will Ferrell’s, um, seminal masterpiece Land of the Lost pips The Last Airbender with a rating of 5.3. I have seen Land of the Lost. I would rather lick the bum of a dead donkey than sit through that diabolical excuse of a movie again.

Needless to say, I will not be forking out cash to see The Last Airbender. Let’s pray this is as low as Shyamalan can possibly go, and that the undoubtedly talented director starts making some decent movies.

Technical crap aside, it’s all fair and well having a faster, more expensive car but if you don’t have the after sales service to go with it you may as well not bother. I did not buy the Merc new, but it was recently due for it’s second service and so my first experience with Merc Sandton came to pass.

What a breath of fresh air. There’s not much between Audi and Merc, car-wise. I mean, there’s not much between an A4 2.0T and a C200. But there certainly is a big gap in service ethic between Audi Sandton and Merc Sandton (I can’t speak for other branches). From the moment I pulled up this morning, I was surprised – friendly staff, freshly-brewed coffee, orderly processing of vehicles, and a swiftly organised lift from the dealership to my breakfast appointment – all done and dusted in about 10 minutes.

When I picked up my vehicle the seats and steering wheel had been covered in plastic to prevent dirt or scuffing, and the car was spotless. It took another 10 minutes to pick up my keys, sign the paperwork and leave.

And then my heart sank.

I realised my CD changer was empty. All my CD’s were gone. A Leatherman I keep in the middle console was missing. So was the loose change, and, I kid you not, my gum and tissues were gone too.

I was livid. So much excitement, followed by such devastating (and all to familiar) disappointment. In fact I lost a wedding ring to an Audi dealership the same way.

In a state I phoned the service advisor Martin Fortuin to ask if he knew anything about it. He asked me to hold for a second, returned to the phone and broke the news…

My stuff, all of which had been carelessly left in the car by me (I’m bad that way), was all tucked away neatly and safely in a Ziploc bag back at the dealership, ready for my collection. Wow. If only all brands understood service and honesty like Mercedes-Benz do.

I might never own another brand of car. I mean, who needs more than the sound of that V8?

Recent events in South Africa have, to borrow Jenny Crwys-Williams of Talk Radio 702′s phrase, “lanced a boil” filled with putrid racist muck, and the contents are spilling out over everyone.

While listening to one of the many debates raging over extremists Malema, Terre’Blanche and everyone inbetween, I started thinking about racism. What it means, what it is and just how big a role prejudice plays in my own life. It’s at times like this that I cannot avoid asking of myself, “what example do you set, where do you stand and how can you contribute positively to this situation”.

In discussion with a good friend over lunch the other day, he challenged me when our conversation drifted to examining what roles we would have played if we had been born 25 years earlier, and found ourselves responsible, mature white South African adults faced with the reality of Apartheid at it’s ugliest. Would I have been a vocal activist against the atrocities or would I have chosen to pretty much ignore the situation, like so many good South Africans did. As the saying goes, all that needs to happen for evil to succeed is for good men to do nothing.

I have some strong opinions about racism, opinions I want to share with you and hear your thoughts about. Some of them might not be easy to hear but I trust you’ll hear my heart and understand my intentions.

I think racism is a disease, and a hereditary one at that. My son, at 5 years of age, does not make any distinction between himself and his good friend Tsepelo. He does not see colour. He doesn’t know (yet) that black people are supposed to be worse at keeping to appointments (“Africa Time”) – and I’m using the most harmless example of prejudice I can think of – because he hasn’t been told yet. Every single negative thing I’ve ever ‘known’ about black people has been injected in my mind by some joke, jibe or sideways comment, and choosing to listen or repeat that means I am electively racist. I used to think all black people drove badly because all taxi drivers are black and they all drive badly, right? That was until I took a cab in New York… It turns out cab drivers are bad drivers, not black drivers.

Sometimes I’ve heard racism in the fears and deepest concerns of those closest to me, and how can I blame my father when he himself inherited this disgusting disease from his ancestors and propagandist breeding grounds like the army? I know for a fact the exposure my dad has had to black people and black culture at work, and the fact that my mom teaches at a government school where 99% of the kids are black, has changed both their perspectives on black people remarkably. But still traces remain – the same traces that are buried deep down in my heart, as much as I have tried very consciously to dispel them.

Despite the tectonic shift in our country’s reality in 1994, racism can not be obliterated in a day, or a month, or even a year. Deep-seated racism and racist prejudices, be they white against black or vice versa, will take generations to eliminate, and even then you’ll still likely have extremists on either end of the spectrum. Racism is a rusty blade that was thrust deep into the heart of our country through years of slavery, discrimination and Apartheid, and even though many of us – the majority of us – try to heal the wound every day a small minority on either side insists on picking the scab, agitating the infection – the infection that diseases all of us.

How then do we overcome? I want to believe that my children will grow up in a South Africa, in a world, where racism is a memory and not a reality, but I know in my heart of hearts that is not a possibility. Maybe their children, and even more likely their grand-children, will hopefully get a taste of a world like that. A good practical example of this is the contentious issue of transformation in SA sports. Honestly – until we allow one or two generations of young black sportsmen and women to rise up the ranks through equal opportunity and recognition of their natural talents, teams will continue to be chosen on colour and not on merit (which is the issue people have with transformation). When we’ve achieved that, 90% of players in teams (rugby, cricket or soccer) will be black. Not because of their skin, because of their ability and the ratio of black to white people in our country. This is pure logic. The point I’m making is that transformation happens in 2, 3 or maybe 4 generations. Not in one team selection meeting, for crying out loud.

I believe the key to overcoming racism is admitting that we can’t do it in one day, or with one TRC, or with one vote. The first step to dealing with our own prejudices will be admitting they exist, which brings me back to the title of this post. I am a racist – I admit it. I bear the scars, the disease, the infection of our past. All my friends inherited it. My children will too. The clincher is what we choose to do with the disease – whether we let it overrun us, or whether we take ARV’s (Anti-Racist Virals :)) to combat it daily. I don’t wan’t to be a racist. Nor do you. So do something about it with me.

Do an exercise for me – take the Implicit Association Test (or IAT) for racism. I discovered the IAT while reading Malcolm Gladwell’s fascinating book Blink. The test seeks to examine our racist prejudices, even the sub-conscious ones. See how you do. Then tell me if you, like me, are in fact a racist in recovery.

I believe the cure to the disease is exposure, connection and relationship. Like Edward Norton’s character in the powerful movie Amrican History X, so often our fears and misconceptions about each other are dispelled when we seek to spend time with each other. Soon our differences become things to celebrate, not mock.

I’m writing this because I don’t think the way to fight racism is by ignoring it. I think we need to face our fears head on, confess our own short-comings, and get our hands dirty in fixing it. I’d like you to hold me accountable in my journey to health, and I trust you’ll share your opinions and thoughts in this regard as you do.

Let me explain my logic.

The average car’s fuel tank has a capacity of about 60 litres or so. Last night fuel went up by 49c – a drastic increase – but normally increases are somewhat less than that. This particular increase took 93-octane fuel up to R8.40 a litre. So let’s take the most extreme possible example an say that in an attempt to save money you ran your tank practically dry in anticipation of the increase. If you filled up that tank yesterday evening, you could claim a saving of 60 x 49c = R29.40. Wow.

But wait, there’s more. Consider that on average most people in the ‘burbs travel about 4 or 5 km’s to get to their nearest garage, some more. If there’s no traffic (unlikely considering everyone is rushing to fill up), that equates to about a litre of petrol spent in the pursuit of saving. R29.40 – R7.91 = R21.49.

Now consider the time spent on the road, out of the office or away from home when you could have actually been busy with something productive. It would take me a half hour to fill up – a half hour I could be spending on a proposal or a significant email, making thousands of Rands in the process. Or let’s say you were only planning to relax and watch TV – YOU’RE STILL ONLY SAVING R21!!!

Am I the only person who sees how crazy this is? We all scramble to save R21 on petrol, sitting in queues and getting stressed, but happily spend R7 on bottled water?

Like I say, ridonkulous.